#It’s only been sort of small pieces so I assume she got a large nest and is cutting it up?

[thedickcavettshow]

One of my enemies has been leaving parts of a wasps nest on my front step, presumably to try to intimidate me, but I don’t think she realizes that I study entomology so I just think it’s cool.

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter Four

The noise in the tavern was loud, but even with all the rampant rodgaring and laughing Adva was very sure of what she heard.

‘Dwarven Spit?’ She blinked down at him, confused.

‘You are Adva, aren’t you?’ Geralt eyes piercing through her as she nodded dumbly. ‘Well, then I require Dwarven Spit to make the Thunderbolt potion.’ The Witcher spoke clearly, tilting his head as he observed her.

‘Of course, I do, I have some Thunderbolt already prepared, Lord Fagen wanted it for his men when they first tried to kill the beast.’

‘Hmmm,’ Geralt observed her once again. It was the first clear view he had got off the being that’s scent overwhelm him.

The women would barely come up to his chest; perhaps 5ft5, making him over a foot shorter than him, his mind couldn’t help but wonder about how his large body would cage hers as he moved over her, how easy he could manipulate her body with his massive form, consume her, possess her. But also how pretty she would look over him, riding him, his hands guiding her as she did, lush, full lips parted as she screamed and moaned, eyes wild. Adva had sparkling blue eyes, dark like the ocean in a storm, with flecks of silver waived through them, emotion breaming, that gave everything but revealed nothing. Her face was soft and pale, a healthy cream with a natural flush that travelled around her cheeks and down her neck, that peeked out over her flimsy blouse. Even under the ill-fitted garments that wrapped her, he could see a pear-shaped body, broad hips and narrow waist leading up to pert breasts. Easily a handful to play with as she rode him or to fondle as he pounded her from behind. Then there was her hair, dark brown hair in loose ringlets that faded into a dark gold, which would look attractive wrapped around his fingers as he was buried inside her or sprawled across his pillow or bounces side to side as she rode on the back of Rouche. Even in his fogged haze, there was a brief moment of comparison between Adva and Yennefer, Yennefer with her purples eyes and sweet scent, slim body, full breast and quick wit against the plump body of innocent Adva, flower of a merchant trading town with her shy glances and tender smile.

‘A healer, alchemist and a tavern maid… not something I would expect in a trading town. But not all trading towns have rampant Griffins wondering about.’ Geralt pondered, taking a hearty gulp of strong-smelling mead.

‘Griffian…why would it be a Griffin?’ Adva questioned. The half-bird, half-cat creature did not have toxic claws or attack random towns, hell the town was not even near any mountains, she supposed that the nest could have been attacked or robbed but why it was terrifying this town, why now?

‘Sit down… eat with me.’ Geralt ordered, cutting into the lamb in front of him.

Adva hesitated, she didn’t want to sit down the Witcher, that dull throb was back between her eyes and her body ached, all over, but the glare that Vivian sent across the room to her forced her to sit across from him. Vivian was kind mistress but a harsh businesswoman, she took care of her own, but business was business and gods help anyone who stopped her getting coin. Geralt hacked off several thick bits of meat and tossed then to a side plate that he pushed towards her. Blood oozed from the meat, the buttery smell mixed with the lemon and rosemary causing her mouth to salivate. When had she last eaten? Honestly she couldn’t remember. Edgerly, she took a slice in her hand and started to devour it, the flavour burst in her mouth and she gave a satisfied moan, she felt like a beggar who had been given her first meal in months. Poking her plush pink tongue from between her lips Adva licked greedily at every drop of the salty meat juices, only to find the White Wolf staring darkly at her causing a tingle of some unknown feeling to surge through her. An embarrassed flush rose from her neck and turned her a rich shade scarlet.

Geralt watched as the blushed travelled across her chest with a vast degree of pleasure, the hum of magic throbbed intensely in the air, he had never been on for tales of romance especial those of soul mates, but he made been a Witcher for many years and seen the power of them between the humans but for Witchers were just tales romanticised by people like Jaskier. There was an attraction, something he had never felt before not even with Yennefer. This woman was not even his type, too virginal and shy, bookish even. She was eye-catching for sure, could make a fair bit of coin in a place like this, or at least marry well; instead, she hid in the kitchen. Geralt was sure she could even persuade Lord Fagan to send her to train with the best mages in the world, yet here she stood cooking his meal, looking dead on her feet. Why?

For a while, Geralt busied himself with devouring his meal, he had too stopped himself from moaning with every bite he took, while his companion sat fidgeting in her seat. It couldn’t be helped that his mind filtered back to his naughty daydreams, how she would squirm under him as he slowly.

‘How do you know it was a Griffin? I thought they only lived high on the mountains?’ the healer asked quietly.

‘Because I am a Witcher, its what I do.’

There were several more moments of silence as Geralt demolished the leg of lamb, the girl staying almost perfectly still, like a poor little mouse who had caught the eyes of a passing snake and froze to the spot praying that the reptile would continue passing by.

‘Know much about Griffins? Doesn’t seem the sort of thing that a small-town girl would know. I don’t think parents would approve of a sweetling flower knowing that.’ Geralt questioned as he pushed the plate away, leaning back against the cool stone wall.

Adva observed him for a moment in silent contemplation; she had nothing to hide but her questions made her uneasy. Did the Witcher believe that she was hiding something? Adva had not even considered that the Witcher might want to investigate her, perhaps what was what the strange feeling that overcomes her, some Witcher power to make suspect reveal the truth. That was it, no other explanation for it. If she told him what he wanted this feeling would lift, and the man would move on with his hunt and leave her alone.

‘I was abandoned as a toddler, so I really don’t think they would care. I apprenticed with Tradi for a brief time and now I help the Lady Cersi if she requires. I have learnt a lot from both.’ Adva softly spoke, trying not to twitch under the intense, unblinking gaze of the man.

‘Apprentice to the Great Tradi of Browdon such an honour.’ Geralt replied in a dry tone, Adva did not know to take it for sarcasm or not. ‘Hard to see why a hard-working maid would no longer be in his service?’ he uttered leaning forward in his seat, his face close enough to fell it hot puffs against his skin.

‘Lord Fagen didn’t like his treatment of those in his care and saw fit to move me, I end up here. Vivian housed me from the orphanage.’ Adva stated in a matter of fact, pushing her back against the chair in a bid to create enough space as possible between them.

‘Why not sent you to train you at the Guild of Sorcerers.‘

‘I assumed he isn't want to waste their time with someone with weak magic.’ Adva bit out, not going to the guild had never bothered her, she saw herself as nothing special, and she didn’t have a desire for power or gilded palaces being waited on hand and foot, it was tone in which he spoke, cold and with hidden meaning.

‘I find that hard to believe; someone could use nettles and rosemary to fight off a vicious toxin seems like a powerful individual to me.’ Geralt raised an eyebrow, noting the hum around her had become agitated as it fizzled and popped nervously.

Adva shrugged and remained silent, trying to avoid the scrutiny of his eyes. Whatever spell the gold eyes where wielding she wanted to end, it was consuming her, gnawing at her bones. Her skin was beginning to itch and prickle like from some fevered heat.

‘Or perhaps the noble Lord of Brightwater wanted you to himself, Madam Vivian seems to the intent of selling your virginity to the highest bidder, that if you even still have it. I can't imagine anyone staying pure in a place like this ’ Geralt prodded.

It had all become too much, the look, the magic, the feeling creeping through her bones, fizzled and popped and it took all her control not to surge her power and pin him to wall and kick him square in the pants or kiss him, but she just enough grip on her sanity to raise elegantly from her seat and smiled ‘I will retrieve your Thunderbolt potion Sir; I’m sure you will want to get on with your hunt so you can collect your gold.’ Adva puffed out and marched her way back to the safety of the kitchen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt stalked through the streets, silver shield in hand, Jaskier cowering behind him, his only weapon a quill held in shaky hands. All the townspeople were barricaded in their homes — no sign of the creature. Geralt cursed under his breath as he made his way down a darkened alley, the scent of Adva still clung to his clothes, lingered on his skin, it was the faintest of traces but still enough to get him harder than steel, battling a monster was hard enough, but with a cock as hard as steel was enough to make him want to kill every man in sight. In the tavern, he had received several offers after Adva left, but the smell of her made it impossible too even consider the offers. It was like trying to persuade some to have a piece of bread after tempting them with a juicy roast. A hushed voice broke Geralt path of though. Elvish if he was not mistaken.

‘Is that Elvish?’ Jaskier asked scribbling frantically on his parchment.

‘Hmm,’ Geralt frowned.

The Witcher inched closer to a yard that seemed to be the source of the voice. The building was a little way off the main street, at the back of a large building. The Whitchers golden eye found a significant gap in the wooden fence and eyed the yard. It seemed to be a builders yard, field with scraps of metal and wood, large crates lay scattered around a cellar door. A figure stood behind a box as he mumbled obscure words, producing an ominous grey cloud. The medallion around his neck began to vibrate fiercely against his chest. Dark magic hmmm, would explain the toxic claws of the creature. Jaskier leaned against Geralt sword arm as he perched to look through the gap as well, earning a dark look from his friend. The man continued his spell for several moments till with a flourish he stepped forward and released a catch on the celler door.

‘Isn't that Tradi… what's he doing with that book?’ Jaskier whispers as a deafening crash broke through the yard. A magnificent Griffin broke through the doors, hovering silently above the man's head staring deadly ahead at the man, a grey cloud absorbed itself into the creature whose eyes turned a murderous red but remained still hovering in the air. Waiting.

‘We have waste to much time; the Witcher has arrived. Kill Adva; I don’t care if you have to drag her out the whorehouse. Take her far from here and dispose of her. I will follow and take her book. Kill any person you see. This is my command.’ Tradi spat, snapping the book closed before disappearing into the night as the creature screeched into the air.

‘Fuck’ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The night was quiet; the tavern had long fallen into silence apart from the odd giggling woman or the occasional thud of someone moving in the rooms above. The moon hung high in the inky black of the sky, illuminating the workshop. Adva worked tirelessly in the silvery light, even in the near darkness her eyes could make out every mark she penned in the large book in front of her, the young woman eyes only leaving the stiff pages of the old book to carefully eye the brewing potion on the hearth. The concoctions needed careful and constant attention which was enough to keep the women from her rest, though her eyes were heavy with the want of sleep. Honestly, she couldn’t remember when she had slept last but she couldn’t, that itch clunge to her skin, it gave her restless energy. Damn that Witcher and his strange magic.

Resting the quill in ink, she stretched, feeling the soft clicked of her tired joints. Standing she tended to the cauldron and checked the various herbs that were drying and added more of her secret elixir to the leathers soaking in the trough she had cared away in the stone floor. Her room was a converted scullery, a crooked room, far away from everything, drafty and damp but it allowed her privacy to study, the room held a small selection of books, mostly one she had managed to buy cheaply from passing booksellers, some gifts from Cersi and Lord Fagen. The Lord of Brightwater had been very generous in her education. It would not be dawn for a good few hours, and the potion was coming along nicely but slowly, she could make use of the next few hours and start replenishing the various wares she sold or organising her ingredients but instead, she pours herself a glass of weak tea and sat herself back in the worn chair, it squeaking and squalling in protest as she did so as she picked up her quill and began to frantically glide her nib against the yellowed pages. Adva had written no more than a half-page when a muffled cry broke through the silent night air. She could feel every hair stand to attention and the impending dread fill her body. Standing shakily, Adva moved to the small window in her room; it was only a couple of inches high and just peaked across the ground in front of the tavern. The only thing to be seen as the gentle grass dancing in the soft breeze and the shining eyes of two rabbits that had broken cover in the night to hunt for food.

Tentatively, she pulled open the squeaky door, cursing as its sound cut through the night's air. Casting her eyes about, the landscape looked calm and tranquil only the gentle breeze was felt. Then another cry caught her attention. It was faint but in the silences of the night sounded as if it had been screamed. ‘Hello?’ Adva called out into the night, nothing or no one answered.

The bush in front of her shivered in the night, rustling as if something thrashed gentle from within. Adva advanced carefully; her eyes wandered the landscape. Peering over the dark fern leaf to see a large pair of red eyes glaring back of her. Time was still, she wasn’t sure how long she stood looking at these glowing eyes, she wanted to scream but her voice caught in her throat. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind; she could run, hide, scream or shout, throw a blast of magic or a rock. All of the thoughts faded into black as the creature growled and slowly slid forward. A glistened claw snapped out and clamped down on her waist; the tip of the claws pierced her skin.

The bird-like creature launched into the air, jerking her arm as it lurched into the air, her legs flailed helplessly in the air, and the ground disappeared from underneath her, eyes struggling to focus on something, anything. Pure evil seeped from the bird and fizzled against her skin; it felt wrong and dark. Her other hand clawed at its talons, her fingertips stinging as the sharp edge sliced into them, as she tried blindly to free herself in the face of the burning wind that attacked her face. After what felt like an eternity, the creatures movements halted as it let out a mournful cry releasing her from its steely grip. A soundless cry left her lips as she plummeted to the ground, her body jolted as it made contact with something solid. Opening her eyes, she came face to face with Geralt of Rivia, or at least that looked like him; deep black veins covered his face that was now a sickly white.

Adva didn’t have time to react before she was dropped onto her feet and the Witcher removed his blade from behind his back swinging it a deadly swish as it cut through the air. The beast was ensnared by a thick silver chain, that it struggled and strained against, she could hear the chain groaning with every pull. Reality began seeping in; the Griffin had tried to kill her and still might. The creature burst free, shards of silver ricocheted across the field, the feathered cat wiggled its wings as it launched for the Witcher. The fight was a ballet, elegant forces as he twirled and darted across the grass, the roar of the bird and the swish of the sword-singing as it slashed against the talons. The travelling bard appeared from nowhere shouting encouragement as he rushed over her side. ‘Yes, Geralt! Saving the damsel in distress. This will make a brilliant Ballard.’ The young man gushed at her.

Adva felt her grip loosening on what was happening; it felt like a nightmare. One minute she was caring for a young child in the healer's hut than being interrogated by a Witcher who was now suddenly defending her with his life, his own personal bard shouting his praise from the sidelines. When her brain was finally able to catch up she found Geralt being throw again a tree. A wave of angry surged through her as his body splintered through the young tree, and the breast roared around as it charged around at the two petrified companions. In her angry Adva body reacted in a way it had never done before, she forced her hand to waved over the ground and summoned a ball of water that gurgled and thrashed as it ranged in the air, without a second thought she threw the ball toward the cat-like creature. The creature flew back with a terrible screech.

Geralt readied himself its time to see the monster being pushed back with a bone crashing force of a ball of water. Adva stood in front of Jaskier or Jaskier coward behind her as the women eyes glowed a bright blue. The creature choked back water as its great talons scraped along the stones as in a deadly threat. Without a though, Geralt brought sword up above his head and sliced into the beast's wing, causing it to collapse on the floor then with lightning speed thrust his sword true to pierce the heart of the possessed creature, watching it sink to the ground.

With a grunt Geralt moved slowly he watched as her eyes returned back to normal, the aura around her was clear and bright, throbbing with energy and vigour, she smiled wearily at him which Geralt couldn’t help but smile back. There was a nervousness that took over her aura as her hand rung out in front of her. As he approached her mouth opened several times but no voice spoke out. ‘You have got to teach me that…’ Jaskier panted out. ‘…Will come in useful when Geralt runs off.’

‘Water Manipulation is a rare talent among Mages…unheard of in healer.’ Geralt grunted.

Before Adva had time to reply a smash caught her attention, turning her head to observed her house in the distance, a bright yellow glow shone through the thin window of her room. Even in the pain that stung her side she was well aware she had not left any candles burning, she never did, her eyes were well adapted to the dark. Another hideous clattered sounded out and she flung herself up the verge the beast had carried her down and back into her room.

Standing at her desk the Mage Tradi stood gripping a book from her shelves, starring angry at its pages. His hair was damp from sweat that glued his wavey mane to his forehead and neck. His green obs were wild and murderous as they turn to look up.

‘Is this it? Is this your book? Where are the notes? The spells?’ he spat, hand flailing wildly with the book. ‘I possessed a Griffin, murdered those pathetic fools for this? A bunched of scribbled gibberish? What does it all mean? Tell me or ill have that Griffin pull you whore friends bodies apart slowly and make you watch!’

‘Tradi….’ Adva pleaded stepping into the room entirely.

The man lunged aggressively; a sharp searing pain tore through her already exposed side. Where the Griffin had torn open her dress leaving weeping scratches, now were open in deep gouge. In Tradi’s other hand was her paring knife, a curved blade she used to prepare her potions, it glistened in the darkness, smeared with her blood. Geralt was suddenly there, his silver sword pushed under the Mages throat, the Witcher white teeth bared angrily.

‘You possessed a Griffin that is very dark magic. Any last words.’ Geralt spat against the man's face, pushing him harder into the wall as the weaker man kicked and struggled against him.

‘You cannot kill me! I now possess the book of ultimate power. I am invinsa….’ The man crumpled to the floor as the Withers blade cut through his throat, almost severing his head from the body. Blood viciously spurted out across the room, coating Geralt with a healthy spray and he sheathed his sword and picked up the book in clasped tightly in the deadman's hand. Jaskier was now helping the young girl to her feet as she stared in horror at the deadmans body as its entire contest of blood flooded onto the floor. Her dark blue eyes rose to meet Geralt’s in a silent plea. It was only now that Geralt though of how young she looked and how small, something so innocent and tiny that in one brief moment it could disappear at the snap of someone fingers. The fact that someone as close as Tradi, someone she worked with could be a threat and not even realised the danger she was in. Or the fact she possessed something that made her a target, that was a deep worry at the core of his soul.

‘He wanted one of your books, why? What is so important that is would cause a Mage to possess a Griffin?’ Geralt eyed her suspiciously. The woman appeared shocked and confused, her heartbeat pounding at the breast, the magic that surrounded her hummed softly calling to him, demanding his submission. ‘I don’t…’ Her doe-like eyes pleaded with him for help understanding.

‘You don’t expect me to believe that.’ Geralt spat, he temper flaring violently in him, whatever spell she had cast was driving him insane; he didn't know if he wanted to choke the life out of her with his bare hands or push her skirt off and fuck her against the wall, the emotions that he felt surging within him were conflicting and overwhelming. Not since a child had he felt such an abundance of feelings, not since that night, his mother gave him away.

A whimper broke from her lips as she cast her eyes down to her side, her hand pulled away from the dark material of her dress to reveal the thick layer of blood coating her hand. Geralt looked down confused, frozen in surprise. There was so much blood in the room the coppery smells had mulled together he hadn’t even noticed the potent smell of apples and ocean intertwined with it. The rage he felt at her had clouded his vision, blinded him to the blood pool into her skirts. emotions pounded in his chest as he watched the woman crumpling into Jaskier arms.

All your reviews made my week! Please leave a comment!

[libermachinae]

Drops in a Bucket, Splashes on the Ground

Also available on AO3! Tags: Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Gen, Whirl (Transformers), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Whirl is Primus AU, Angst, would you believe me if i said i didnt set out to write another angst fic, whirl's just like that Wordcount: 4202 Notes: I would highly recommend you read "Bullets" or at least be familiar with Whirl's abuse of Rotorstorm before reading this fic. The scene containing graphic violence begins with "Tacticians always struggle..." and the scene referencing abuse begins "He shoves his way..." Please feel free to reach out if you need any further information.

~*~

“And I guess old Primus makes five.”

“Hah! No, no, no. That’s not Primus… you’re Primus.”

~*~

 Whirl has never been intimidated before. Not so intentionally, not by bots whose forged bodies have been piled on with armor and weaponry, no expenses spared by the ganglords. The Heavies rolled up on treads that left gouges in the streets, painful marks that tomorrow’s taxes will go to fixing, and their transformations took a full five seconds as excess plating moved out of the way while their protoforms tried to bend per their original configurations. They wear identical red visors and dark gray masks: faces, certainly, but only in the barest sense of the word, enough to separate them from lowlifes without affording them identity. It is impossible to tell one from the other and Whirl knows, intrinsically, that it will not matter.

 ~*~

 Rung is the only one who doesn’t flinch. Whirl stands over Adaptus’ body, freshly relieved of what they can all agree was a spectacularly ugly head, and puts away his gun.

“Right,” he says, with a meaningful glance out the window. “Want to agree none of us heard that?”

“Whirl!” Rodimus shouts. “You can’t just kill a god!”

The body explodes into a pile of dust.

“Sure I can,” Whirl says, shaking it off his foot even as he leans down to inspect the scrapple. “Hey Ratch, can you rig me to explode next time I get shot?”

“Is it true?” Nautica asks, doing her intellect a massive disservice by stepping in front of the unhinged bot with a blaster.

“Obviously not,” Ratchet says. “He was lying.”

Whirl nods.

“Yeah. You think I would keep it a secret from any of you if I was a god? You think Cyclonus would ever hear the end of it? Nah.” He stands, kicking pile and sending a spray of metallic dust into the air. “Awesome way to go, though, can’t say I’m not jealous.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to kill him for it.”

“So, you’re not Primus?” Nautica asks. She hasn’t moved, her arms crossed in front of her. If Whirl had been her creator (and he isn’t, he already has his claws full with a nest of scraplets), he would have been pretty proud of her right now.

“Nope!” he says. “I’ve never vouched for the universe before, but that kind of joke would take on an extra level of cruel, don’t you think?”

“Got to agree with Whirl, here,” Rodimus says, a hand on Nautica’s shoulder drawing her back. “I could buy pretty much anyone else. Maybe not Rung, but, say, Velocity? She could be Primus. Or Roller. I guess not Megatron, since we saw him come online, but—”

“The point, Rodimus,” Ratchet deadpans.

“The point is, not Whirl,” Rodimus said, sweeping his hands up to gesture at him. “I get Primus is disappointed in us. We are a textbook example of why a race of sentient war machines should never be left to their own devices, combined with a case study on how to avoid learning from every mistake you’ve ever made. But I really don’t think that disappointment would translate to actively hunting us for sport. Isn’t Primus supposed to be all about forgiveness and loving your cellmate?”

“Right,” Whirl says, clacking his pincers together in his approximation of a snap. “An angry god is so cliché.”

“I don’t think anyone knows what Primus believed,” Rung says. Oh no. He’s taken off his glasses. “I don’t see any reason he couldn’t be Whirl.”

“How about we start where the part where gods don’t exist, and Whirl does?” Ratchet suggests.

“I… I am Solomus, though.”

The whole group turns to the offending voice. Whirl goes for his gun and Rodimus knocks it out of his hand, a stern finger silently telling him not to kill any more gods. As if being an ex-Matrix bearer gives him some sort of say.

Tyrest has not stopped touching his gaudy mantelpiece, poking at the holes. It wouldn’t be so disturbing, except he’s staring at Whirl while he does it.

“Primus, don’t you remember?” he asks.

“Hey, let’s watch the fragging language.”

“Adaptus wanted to send our creations to pointless war,” Tyrest goes on. “Violence for the sake of violence, conquests built on the backs of others. We fought him.” He steps forward and reaches for Whirl. “Together, we—”

Whirl jerks back with his claws extended out.

“I will cut your hand off, I swear to—I swear.”

He is saved from any more interrogation by the ground violently rumbling underneath them.

“Okay, so regardless of whatever’s Whirl’s deal is, we do still have at least one Primus to worry about,” Rodimus says, looking out the window at the approximation of what Whirl, personally, had always assumed god would look like. “Solomus, you still got your teleporting rigged up?”

 ~*~

 No one ever considered giving The Institute a waiting room, so Whirl stands to one side of the hallway while the butchers discuss his case. He knows his proposal intrigues them: they have never had an opportunity to shadowplay a willing subject before. What is there to learn from a brain that does not fight them every step of the way? What backdoors exist that every other victim kept hidden? Whirl does not care about the potential scientific advancements his offer provides. He just wants to stop dreaming of gears, lose the phantom aches of his fingers. He wants to look in a mirror and see nothing: not himself, not a monster. Just an object, fulfilling its purpose.

The scientists who walk by him in the halls stare. Everyone stares, but the look they give him is different. They do not find him exceptional, nor do they feel for him pity or contempt. He is no marvel. He is a creation, perfectly engineered to suit its purpose, every detail minded with care to ensure it all works together as an ideal mechanism. He wishes he could see himself through their eyes.

The door beside him slides open and a bot he has never seen before steps out. His helm comes up no higher than Whirl’s waist and his large yellow optics do not look up from his datapad.

“Whirl of Polyhex, the panel has elected to reject your petition,” he says. “I am to remind—”

“What?” Whirl startles; his new head shoots upward, forcing him into an angle that is both unnatural and instinctual. “Why? Ice Pick said he could—”

“I am to remind you that you have signed a nondisclosure agreement; failure to comply will result in penalty of death.” The little bot flares his plating, the click of a motor lock setting it in place. “You will now submit to full stasis and be escorted back to your home.”

The jack comes from behind.

 ~*~

 “This is my hab suite.”

Whirl knows the tonal difference between a bullet hitting living metal and a wall. He scowls and gives up, waving Cyclonus inside.

“My room’s a mess,” he says. “Think I’m gonna crash here for a while.”

Cyclonus comes in and sits beside Whirl on the berth. When the door slides shut, they are visible only by their biolights: Whirl closed the shutters when he came in, the stars too much like blinking numbers. Cyclonus is a surprisingly quiet machine. His presence comes with none of the usual hisses and clicks one would normally get with their kind, like each component was designed specifically to work with those around it. Compared to Whirl, whose body is a wreck of pieces that almost fit together, clinking and scraping through their standard functions, he practically doesn’t exist.

“This is slagged, huh?” Whirl asks.

Cyclonus thinks on it a moment, then there is a shift of plating as he nods. Is it an admission, a confession? Pri—frag, Whirl doesn’t want to have to start thinking about that.

“Sorry,” he says.

“You don’t need to—”

“Scrap, you’re right. What am I doing?” Whirl laughs. “I’m infallible now, right? It’s all been part of my grand plan for Cybertron. I should be saying you’re welcome; you should be thanking me.”

Cyclonus sighs, a rush of air out his vents.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks.

Whirl pokes and pinches at his own plating, trying to make sense of it.

“Yeah,” he says. “Start praying, and keep Megatron far away from me.”

 ~*~

 He’s spent two days in the holding cell before he realizes no one else is coming for him.

That Orion Pax… he’s good, and Whirl’s not sure whether it’s the kind that gets people hired or gets people killed. Not that it matters, not that he cares. The Senate’s going to crush all of them one by one, like little cans of oil under a rolling tank. He thought being a tread would come with some measure of relief; instead, it just landed him in a hole.

He digs a claw tip into the wall, another score among a small collection. He has been trying to reconstruct the miner’s face, what it looked like in the split second between recognizing he had been struck and realizing there was more to come. He can’t relish a memory if he can’t keep it, and he’s already struggling well enough to accomplish the former. This assignment was supposed to be a release. Look down at the big thinker and imagine in his place Senator Proteus, Sentinel Prime, the faceless Functionist Council. Tell himself that this is what it would feel like to rip their plating open until their priceless energon spilled onto a dirty floor.

The face, though, it’s escaping him. How can he fell anything about a person with no face? What relief is there to be found in beating the slag out of a nobody? He is trying so hard to adapt, but it’s like his processor is working against him, reminding him how far he got before he was reeled back in. The silhouette of his sketch is familiar.

His claws hurt where he has worn the tip blunt, and the portrait is still incomplete.

 ~*~

 “I don’t make Matrixes,” he insists. The group was polite enough to knock once they found him, but they’re failing to pick up the hint that he wants all of them to go away, right now, and leave him alone forever.

“Well, Epistemus says you can,” Rodimus says, dentae blocked together. “Why do all the other gods have their memories back, but not you?”

“I dunno, maybe Needles can stick me and figure it out.”

It’s almost cute, the way Rewind steps protectively in front of Chromedome.

“Rodimus,” Rung says, trying to get between them, “this isn’t helping.”

“Thank you,” Whirl says. “Now can we get to the part where we storm the planet, guns a-blazin’?”

“That won’t help either.” Rung turns to look at him. “Your memories haven’t been deleted, Whirl. Somehow, there should still be some part of you that remembers creating the Matrix.”

“The Functionists probably took it out,” Whirl says.

“That’s not how mnemosurgery works.”

“Says the dropout.”

“You told me once about your earliest memory,” Rung says. Whirl should be furious that he’s doing this here, in front of people who have no business knowing what’s in his head, but he’s more interested in the way Rung has taken off his glasses and is squinting up at him. “What happened just before it?”

They did not bring Ratchet, a testament to the fact that they will not leave before he gives them answers. He could start lying again, or find another way to forgo the question, but something about Cyclonus’ presence at his back helps him settle down the compulsion. Everybody lies about their forging. Everybody wants to say it was overseen by the Prime, or that they settled into their form like resin poured into a mold, instant and perfect. Whirl has a set of seven stories he deploys on rotation, ranging from heroic to beautifully tragic, and he spends a moment picking through them, trying to remember which was the real one.

“I showed up at the Functionsts’ place to get my docs in order,” he says. “I was… I was trying to get Polyhexian citizenship.” Awful city, but he had always sworn the energon tasted better there than anywhere else.

“But you said you were forged in Polyhex,” Rung says.

“Yeah. It was easier that way.” Whirl puts a claw to his head. “I… augh, nope. No, this is stupid.”

“Whirl—”

“No, I’m done,” he says, pushing Rung away. “Fully done, Rung. That’s right. You were god’s therapist, and he fired you. I’m gonna go take out a planet.”

 ~*~

 Tacticians always struggle with where to put Whirl on a battlefield. On the one hand, he’s an attack helicopter, equipped with long-range cannons and advanced aiming modules. Keeping him in the sky is the perfect way to set up a terrible surprise for Cons on the ground. On the other, he’s Whirl, and facing him head-on can be just as chilling and or fatal.

In the end it rarely matters which call they make because, as stated before, he’s Whirl. He will do whatever he damn well feels like. Right now, that means skimming over the top of the battlefield, sights trained on the odd dot who tries to disgorge themselves from the fighting mass. He is supposed to be providing support to the ground troops, peppering the Decepticon line so they can break through, but no one is going to complain about a few more dead soldiers.

A truck breaks free and he pitches down, giving chase, machine guns firing before he’s got a lock on. The ground explodes in shrapnel as they try to serpentine out of the way, but he keeps firing and soon enough their paths cross.

He riddles them. Their roof is already a puckered, punctured mass of warped metal before their back tires blow and they go skidding and flip onto their side. Their plating shuffles, uncoordinated, as they try to transform, and Whirl goes for the underbelly, shattering the exposed protoform in a burst of pink energon. They slump with their legs disengaged. There is a buzzing, crunching noise as the dying t-cog tries to settle into either mode, then a jet of smoke erupts from the body. The engine has seized, locking it in a permanent limbo.

Whirl spins around to track down his next prey. He loves his job. The Autobots have a need, and he fills it with a gusto that only occasionally gets him in trouble. He’s no hitmech: he lacks the finesse, the style. But he can rain irreverent murder down from the sky, send Cons fleeing just long enough to make them think they had a chance, and he can do it without questioning an order. The war needs people like him.

Two soldiers are trying to escape together, one with their arm over the other’s shoulder, a sparkling stump of a leg between them. Whirl gets low, following them until the roar of his rotors is unmistakable, until they cannot help but turn and he sees their optics. Then he fires.

The wounded one falls first, knocked onto their front and grasping uselessly until their hand is blown off and they go still. The other gets their legs knocked off and goes spinning, landing on their head with a crunch. Whirl keeps advancing, keeps firing, tearing open their plating and reducing their inner working to molten slag, spattering the ground with used energon. They flop, over and over, until Whirl gets bored of the show and hauls off, leaving them almost indistinguishable from the carnage of the land itself.

Whirl hovers over the fighting and looks down while he scans for a target. This high up, visuals are useless for determining Bots from Cons. Little Cybertronians run around, whacking and shooting at each other, falling down, down, down. The metal under their pedes is slippery pink with energon. It splashes against their plating, over their insignias, until they are all just little wandering targets.

Whirl has his job, and he loves it, and he does it well.

 ~*~

 He should feel something, but his spark is a void as he tosses the rest of the guns into the shuttle, all the stuff he held off using because he wasn’t ready to get kicked off the ship. He is not coming back from this. He knows it, so better to take it all.

He’s just fastened the locker when he hears the footsteps on the hatch and looks up. It’s Tailgate, of course. Tailgate, who has a pack hanging from one shoulder and a gun holstered at his side. It’s a shrimpy thing, something Cyclonus taught him to shoot in case they ever got separated, more useful for making noise than taking down an aggressor. It has room for one round of ammo and Whirl doubts he brought a bullet more.

He comes aboard without saying anything and stops beside world, continuing to say nothing. The hand on his pack is clenching: he’s being brave. He’s also waiting for some grand speech, some sacred insight to the nature of their quest and their places in the universe. Well, tough. He should know Whirl better than Primus.

He lifts a claw to shove Tailgate backward and down the hatch, but it stops an inch before Tailgate’s plating. What does it matter? Cyclonus can’t kill him where he’s going and Tailgate himself is just a drop in the bucket. Standing there with his chest puffed out, optic band steely and focused, he looks like any other Cybertronian, never mind a few years left behind.

Whirl retracts his claw. Tailgate nods at him.

Another drop in the bucket.

 ~*~

 He shoves his way to the front row, slamming himself into his chosen seat just ahead of a little spy plane who had been angling for the same spot.

“Buzz off,” he says. Never mind the spy plane outranks him. This is his big day! He got here early so he could get this seat, right in front, though he can barely hold it as the audience fills in around him, so many Bots he does not know and who do not matter. The only one he cares about it up on the stage, smiling with an air of detached cooperation, off in his own head again like he always was. Whirl thought they had made progress on that, but some habits were just too hard to break.

The opening speech is long and predictably boring, lots of talk about this base he has never been on before. Whirl’s engine clicks in agitation. When bots give him dirty looks, he sneers.

“Chronic fanbelt lockup, ever heard of it?” he hisses at them, adding in a few extra ticks for good measure. They go back to minding their own business, but Whirl still catches the optics glancing at him, and his engine goes from annoyed click to angry hum. He knows what they see.

Luckily, the speaker eventually gets over himself and moves on.

“Rotorstorm, will you please step forward?”

Whirl is on his feet before the other copter has a chance to rise, his cheering rising well above the swell of the crowd. He shouts, he stomps his feet, and he bangs his claws together until the bots on either side of him wince, and he gets even louder when he knows Rotorstorm has noticed him.

“Go on, get up there!” he shouts. “You earned this, didn’t you?” The rest of the crowd has calmed down, but he stays standing, arms dropped to his sides. He stares at Rotorstorm as he crosses the stage, shoulders pressed back, each step placed so precisely in front of the last that it must be calculated. He waits until Rotorstorm has reached the edge to sit back down, and then still his optic is pointed, refusing to let Rotorstorm look anywhere else. Rotorstorm’s own optics are wide, though the rest of his expression is slack. His biolights are steady, his ventilations manual and even. He’s perfect.

“Rotorstorm,” the presenter says, “I hope you will forgive us; this is an honor that is long overdue. During the Simanzi Massacre, you singlehandedly scouted a pass through Mount Helix that allowed for the rapid evacuation of the 9th Battalion. Your commanding officers estimate that your decisive actions saved upwards of one thousand Autobot lives.” Whirl’s engine is silent. He’s drinking in every word. “Today, we present you with the Novic Medal for Outstanding Honor. ‘Til all are one.” Rotorstorm ducks his helm as the award is magnetized to the right of his cockpit, finally breaking his optic contact with Whirl.

“’Til all are one,” he repeats, though most of the crowd does not hear him over Whirl’s cheers.

Rotorstorm turns without looking up and returns to his seat. The next recipient is called forward and Whirl walks out.

 ~*~

 He can’t do it. He’ll blame it on the way Tailgate’s plating quietly rattles or Cyclonus’ entire personality as he starts to board, but he shuts off the shuttle’s engine and disembarks with them trailing behind. He retreats to his hab suite, and though he does not invite them he’s glad when they make it inside before the door closes.

“Nobody in the mutiny is allowed to have any of my stuff. I don’t care if Thunderclash is dying again and my innermost energon is the only compatible fuel in the galactic sector, he can’t have it.”

Tailgate nods along, his fingers in a death grip around Whirl’s pincer.

“And when you guys are talking about me later, no one call me anything but Whirl. I’m serious. I don’t know about anything I did before that, so what could it matter?” He looks up at the ceiling. “In fact, don’t tell anyone about the Primus thing. No point.”

Cyclonus is a solid, immobile presence on his other side.

“Am I forgetting anything? Oh, tell Roadbuster I’ll be waiting for him in the pit.”

“Do gods go to the Afterspark?” It’s not clear who Tailgate is asking.

“I definitely don’t plan to stick around and watch over you or whatever. Think I’ve had enough of this universe.” He chuckles, a strained sound. “Yeah. So, that’s it. Better get this show on the road, huh?”

“We’ll be with you the entire time,” Tailgate promises.

“For as long as you want us,” Cyclonus amends.

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugs, laughs again. “I’m not even really scared of the whole dying thing. I’d made peace with that. Whenever there was something I needed to do, I took care of it, so I wouldn’t have to worry about it if the right bullet finally found its mark.” He glances between them. “Now, though… you two better behave, I swear. I’m making it your Primus-sworn duty to take care of and listen to each other, okay?”

Cyclonus nods, and the way he takes it so seriously makes Whirl almost glad he’s on his way out. He couldn’t handle being looked at like that all the time, and especially it’s the way they reach across his lap and entwine their hands that really does him in. He hates them dearly.

“Okay,” he says, winding up his t-cog for the big spin. “Okay, twelve Matrixes. No problem.”

 ~*~

 Whirl times the blinking numbers to the rotations of his spark. 1,600 exactly. He’s done it.

He leans back in his chair but cannot stop staring at the little device in his hands. It is perfect. After years of researching, studying, trying, and failing, the pieces have come together to allow him to create this one perfect thing. He loves it, and a dangerous feeling of pride fills his spark, the kind that has so long been missing from his work in the Aerial Corps. If there is a Primus (and he’s still not sure, whatever the Functionists insist), this is what he built Whirl to do.

He gets up from his desk and walks across his small living space to a shelf. Nearing capacity, it has just enough room for him to push a few previous attempts aside to make room for the latest version. Surrounded by its brethren, it becomes lost almost immediately amid the sea of blinking lights, indistinguishable even from those he considers lesser. Some defects are more obvious than others: one has sat at the same time since the moment he brought it online, while another counts one klik backward for every two forward. But most are just slightly imperfect, necessary steps to get to this point, and he loves them all dearly.

He stands back. It feels like the work of a lifetime, these clocks, though he knows he took up the pursuit relatively recently. It’s just hard to remember how he filled his time before he had this project to work on, and he is again grateful he discovered it at all.

It is a gift to be able to create, he thinks, to cast a broad eye over his creations. The numbers blink at him, all out of tune, and he lets himself imagine being content doing just this for the rest of his life.

[peachyteabuck]

eating a heart in a marketplace

summary: "[C]ommunion doesn’t need to be holy. Or even decent." -  THOMAS C. FOSTER 

After one of Tony’s men injures one of yours, he must present a peace offering in order to keep his black market distributor business afloat. 

Good news: you accept the gift. 

Bad news: the gift is Thor.

pairing: Thor Odinson x Reader

words: 5,863

trigger warnings: dubcon ig, humiliation, heavy d/s dynamics, mentions of canon-level violence, use of gags, collars, basically kidnapping, dehumanization (sexual and nonsexual)

notes/other: this fic is entirely self-indulgent and i am anticipating sequels bc i .... love it.  enjoy!

sk box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The obnoxiously long, dark oak table lays mostly bare, the only places set are the ones at each end of the exquisitely made piece of furniture.

The pink, sheer robe you’re wearing does nothing to hide the matching baby pink lace lingerie, just as the equally feminine heels donned with a strip of pink puff across the base of the toes would do nothing to protect your perfectly manicured feet from the harm of the eerie storm raging outside. Still, the garments and accessories are not meant to be something that cover you up, keep you warm, help you run from danger; they’re tools, tools you’ll hopefully use to get your way as the final meal of the evening approaches.

The entire event is set up just the way you want, with your makeup setting just as expected; the pig roasted to perfection, the pasta firm to the touch, the carrots and broccoli steamed until palatable, the champagne chilled. Most important, though, was the arrival of your guest. At exactly 6:05, your head butler comes in to notify you of the car pulling in front of your expansive home. With the wave of your hand she’s instructed to let the man come in, allow your rival to step into the palace you’d constructed for yourself when you’d risen to the top of your organization.

Well, maybe “rival” is the wrong word. “Rival” implies an active dislike or struggle, when in reality you two operate in separate spheres of influence.

“Companion,” though, seems too friendly.

As the distinct sounds of footsteps filter through the grand hall and into your study, the man you’ve decided to call “fellow leader” steps into sight. His fine pressed suit, dry as the Sahara desert, smiles as you come into his view.

“Ah, my favorite mob woman.” His eyes seems more sinister than you expected. You attribute it more to the dark tones of the evening rather than actual malice.

“Stark,” you say with a curt nod. You go up to exchange a kiss on each cheek, heart racing with the anticipation of what’s to come, excitement increasing with each step. “Come, we have a wonderful meal prepared for you.”

Anthony doesn’t protest, simply accepts a glass of Scotch a maid hands to him and follows you into the dining room. He chuckles a bit at the display you’ve put on, but doesn’t say anything outright. You two have enough respect for the other not deny their counterpart the joy of a dramatic display. He simply sits, the pig placed in the middle of the table large enough to be an obvious sign of wealth but not too big as to deny the two of you eye contact.

Small talk is exchanged as the meal is served, biscuits placed, and pork cut into thick slabs. Vegetables placed delicately on plates and napkins placed on laps. You ask how Pepper is doing, he asks if the dress you had handmade from some extravagant designer turned out how you wanted. Half your plates are clear before either of you truly start to converse.

You’re the first to break the silence as Anthony begins on his mashed potatoes. “I appreciate your understanding of the deal. I’m not a fan of bloodshed, and the demonstration at the club that night are something I wish to forgive and forget as soon as possible.”

Anthony nods, speaking around a bite of the creamy starch. “I agree. Odinson’s actions were inappropriate, wildly and unpredictably so. In truth, I’ve thought he was a liability since he joined, but I never thought he’d lash out like that.”

As you slice through a particularly thick cut of meat, your fork slips and scraps against the china. Both of your winkles your noses at the grating sound.

“Yes,” You pause to chew. “cutting off Barnes’ arm during a bar fight does seem a little…” The bite of biscuit you had gotten was just perfect, the equal amount of butter and brown sugary, apple flavor from the pork together. God, you really do love a good meal. “Rash.”

Your guest hums in agreement. He then clears his throat, preparing to talk. “To symbolize my apologies, I have brought you the gift we spoke of earlier,” he pauses, raising his left hand just above his elbow and bending his first two fingers forward. You sit up, intrigued.

As the large French doors behind him open, from the dark depths of your hallway comes the man who scarred your oldest friend for life, cost you hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills, and has put your best hitman out of commission. He’s tall, fills the doorway like a key in a lock. His scruff thick and dark, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Something deep in you stirs, and squeezing your thighs together does nothing to stop it.

Thor Odinson is clad in a suit, as most of Stark’s enforcers are. Though, the handcuffs keeping his hands behind his back are new.

“Interesting addition,” you note, staring at his straining arms in the expensive fabric.

Anthony doesn’t give any indication that he hears, let alone cares, about your sarcastic comment. “I’m assuming this” he gestures to the man. “Will put me back in good spirits with you and the rest of your crew?”

Odinson walks to your side, head hung in shame and hair tied in a tight bun as his former employer speaks. He knows what he’s in for now, has been told in so many words he is now something less of a person – and it’s obvious this has put him to shame.

You consider it – think about letting all that happened go with a simple olive branch. Before you can do that, though, you must make sure that the merchandise lives up to the promises on the box.

“Down,” you command. Immediately, he drops to his knees. You smirk, dragging your baby pink nails down his stubbled jaw.

“Oh, yes. This will do just fine, Stark. Just…fine.” The last two words are long, almost forgetting to finish them as your mind travels to all the things you could do with him.

Anthony smirks. “Perfect. I’m assuming business with resume as usual?”

Your fingers stroke at the sides of Thor’s face and trace around the shell of his ear. “Of course. I’ll call the appropriate people later. Everything should be up and running by midnight.”

Suddenly Anthony tenses, his fingers moving to fidget with his tie. “If I may-”

“You may,” you tell him, not meeting his eyes.

Anthony audibly gulps, fidgeting in his seat and with his tie. “That’s quite late, that’s hundreds of millions of dollars that we’ll miss out on if we-”

You hold up your hand flat while your gaze remains locked on your new toy. “That’s the earliest I can assure you. Whether or not it happens before that is,” you stop to try and feed Thor a small bite of carrot from your hand. He hesitates but accepts after a few moments, plucking the orange vegetable with beautiful teeth and a gentle bite. He doesn’t make eye contact like you originally wanted, but this is a good start.  “Not guaranteed.”

Anthony knows that you’re stubborn, much too stubborn to be moved away from your current stance. He’s done all that he can do to sway you, and now whatever income he hopes to make between now and the end of the day depends on Thor.

In short, Anthony Stark Junior (and his bank account) are royally, utterly fucked.

As he leaves your home he can hear you call to your head servant to tell Customs and Border Patrol to let his packages in (an assured start to him not losing a fortune), but he still wrings his hands as he slides into the backseat of his solid black Escalade. As the partition opens to reveal the man at the wheel, the thought of angry text messages from smugglers trying to get their goods into the States flash in front of Stark’s bloodshot eyes.

His driver, Happy, notices the fellow man’s anxiety as he looks at his boss through the rearview mirror.

“You think Odinson is gonna be okay, boss?” He asks, sort-of worried but mostly focused on filling the deafening silence in the expensive car. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t fill the awkward spaces in conversation that always come post-transaction.

Tony just laughs, typing something into his watch. “Of course not. That woman is going to chew him up and spit him out by the end of the fiscal year.”

Happy chews at his bottom lip. That’s two weeks from now. “You really think it’s gonna be that quick?”

“Probably,” Tony shrugs. “She’s never been known for mercy.”

The other man nods, quiet as he makes his way to the Stark residence. The quiet, cold night air strikes the mobster as he steps out of the car; the sharp grass smells fills his sense and bloodstream, calming him as he steps into his home. Pepper’s at the counter, stirring something in a pot. She doesn’t turn around when she hears his footsteps, but knows he’s somber nonetheless.

“Hard day at the office?” She asks, giving him a small taste of the homemade alfredo sauce.

Tony snorts, moving to lick at the wooden spoon. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around her waist. She’s in one of his t-shirts and sleep shorts, the soft material comforting him. “You could say that.”

You only make good decisions when you’re in a good mood, and right now said mood depends on Thor Odinson - a man so insecure he once got himself tortured just because his captors told him he couldn’t take it. The man is a stubborn, uncontrollable mess with an anger issue to rival that of Lyssa, or a lighting on a field of dried grass.

He was feared within the Nest and by the lower Excidium members, but he didn’t make palms sweat and hands shake and hearts beat faster quite like you do.

No one fucks with you because you’ve very appropriately placed yourself on a pedestal based on madness, control, and desire for power. Thor’s just feared because he’s a dumbass with a short fuse. It’s the difference between a forest fire and a crazy, drunken uncle holding a lighter; one you can try and prevent, coax it into submission and run away if necessary. The other? More unstable than Francium.

(At least you know that thing’s only going to last twenty-two minutes, though. At least it’s predictable in its instability.)

Back inside, you’re more than ecstatic to have a new plaything. You were fully prepared to let the kid’s behavior slide, especially since the Nest brings in a hefty amount of revenue. But if Tony wants to give up a weak link, you’ll gratefully treasure the broken piece of steel you picked up from the gravel.

Thor stays like that, on his knees and eating out of your hand, for so long his legs fall asleep. You spend the rest of the night chatting at nobody, talk to him like he’s an old, deaf cat who just remains in your favor because he’s soft to pet and is cute. You sign some deals, check the language of some proposed treaties, write your to-do list for the next day all at the dinner table. Thor only dares to look at you when you’re too busy conversing with maids or chastising someone who works under you or any time your head is turned enough that he can make out the scar that runs from behind your left ear to the back of your neck.  

Your form, the way you speak, he’s obsessed with his chance finally take it all in.

He hasn’t seen you in person before, just heard rumors and conspiracy theories and whatever else people spend their time making up about you. Thor always passed it off as fiction, simply inflating the higher-ups to pass the time. Everything about you, though, seems exceptionally true. Maybe even underestimations. It’s true you walk around your house in matching lingerie sets, possibly a robe if it’s breezy. The East Coast heat can be unexpectedly warm, but as the sun sets on the July day he can see goosebumps rise across your soft skin and the shivers that sometimes shake your spine. Your house fits all the descriptions he’s heard, too. The decor seems almost welcoming, faded oranges and pastel pinks and dull whites and baby blues and mustard yellows. Plush, velvet furniture the same deep magenta, mirrors trimmed in what Thor can assume is real gold.

It’s like a scene from Mean Chicks or whatever those 2000s teen movies are. If one of those movies took place in the home of an incredibly powerful mobster, it’d look like this.

“What do you think, pet?”

Oh shit. Thor was supposed to be listening, wasn’t he? When he looks up, Bucky Barnes (the man who called him a pussy and “Stark’s whore,” prompting him to grab one of the decorative - but still fully functional - swords from the wall of the bar they were in and just...slice away at his tormentor), Steve Rogers (who looks like the human version of a sugar cookie while specializing in torture) , and Sam Wilson (a sarcastic little shit who knows exactly how to get anything past the feds) are all staring down at him. Barnes’ left arm (stub? It’s mostly just stub now) is still bandaged, but he’s at least walking now. Thor was told he might die from blood loss, but no. Thor Odinson would never be that lucky.

“They never listen, do they?” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you shift to face them. None of the men sit, knowing they won’t be there long. Plus, they get a much better angle of Thor’s tortuous position while standing.

“You don’t think that deserves punishment?” Steve asks, a smile curling at the sides of his mouth that speaks volumes.

You shrug, not looking at him. “Later. Now I want you to donate fifty thousand to the Vermont special elections. I need that entry point into Canada or else there’s no way we can get out shipments into that garbage country in a timely manner. Also,” you turn to Sam, whose eyes are caught staring between Thor’s left upper ribs. “Call CBP. Stark held up his end of the deal, I have to hold up mine.”

All three of them huff, both at the large sum of cash you’re about to give to a twenty-something know-nothing frat guy who knows nothing about politics but everything about being open to bribes and about them not being able to watch the man they hate become the most embarrassed version of himself in front of the man he tried to kill and his two best friends.

Whatever. The trio’s time for revenge will come, you promised them that - promised Bucky when he was in the ICU that you would find the man that did this and would make them pay.

Bucky has never known you to break a promise.

When the three leave you and Thor, you raise your left arm high flick your wrist towards the large doors. Understanding the cue, your maids wordlessly close them to seclude you from whatever responsibilities you were intending on dealing with tonight. Whatever it is, was, can wait until tomorrow, can wait until you’ve begun Thor’s assimilation into your home.

There’s a moment of quiet, of stillness in the house before Thor hears the sounds of several pairs of footsteps – maybe four, he counts – that enter the large dining room with haste. He’s quickly escorted down a long hallway and up a winding set of stairs. Thor can’t see much as he’s rushed away, and the little he can make out is a baby blue wallpaper with gold patterns etched into it, and fine paintings that appear sporadically on the walls. Some are black and white with abstract patterns, others depictions of angels, a few featuring intricate designs that resemble the sky and sea.

It feels like a forever before Thor is slammed down onto the floor of your bedroom, his knees hitting the wood with a painful smack. Despite the earsplitting sound, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t even flinch as his hair is pulled back by one of the maids so he’s forced to look at you. As you gaze upon him he bares his teeth; you can see fire behind his eyes. What a cutie, you muse to yourself.

“Wrists,” you instruct. Another maid moves behind him with dusty pink rope, securing his wrists together behind his back. “Legs,” you tell them next. Thor is easily flipped onto his back, arched at an uncomfortable angle because of his arms. Just as quickly as before, his legs are tied so that his calves and the backs of his thighs meet. When he’s flipped back up, all he can see is you smiling devilishly. “I’ll do the rest myself ladies. Go ahead and take the night off, I want him all to myself.”

“Yes ma’am” they respond in unison, Thor unable to see their hurried steps but understanding that when he hears the door closing behind them, he’s completely and utterly alone.

For a moment you two just stare at each in silence, his nostrils flaring and chest rising from anger and adrenaline. He heaves as you calmly gaze upon him, pissing off your captive even more. All Thor can do is react while you stand there, stationary and speechless.

Within a few moments, he’s lashing out to break the painful quiet. “This fucking sucks,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “That Barnes fucking deserved that shit, you know? He’s a whiny bitch that gets into shit he doesn’t belong in. I bet he’s fucking compensating for something, ya know? He’s not even a big enough man to come at me himself, needs his master to do his bidding ‘n shit. Why the fuck am I ever here anyway, do you go through boytoys so fucking often you just steal them so that you don’t have to pa-“

You roll your eyes, shoving three fingers into his mouth. Thor looks more confused than anything else, but he does immediately stop talking. Good, exactly what you wanted.

You two stay like that, your jaw tightened with one eyebrow raised – daring him to defy you - and him looking up at you like a puppy who’s just pissed on the carpet in defiance. “Listen, you little brat. I used to babysit for twenty dollars an hour. I put myself through grad school twice on money from too-rich white-ass parents who couldn’t control their kids so they pawned them off to underpaid college kids. I got here because I worked for it, dealing with men much more powerful than you acting like children. If you think for a fucking second that I will tolerate this behavior in my house, under my roof, then you are wrong. Very wrong. Do you understand me?”

Thor’s eyes narrow, and though he doesn’t bite, he does press his teeth into the skin of your first knuckle. It’s enough to keep your attention entirely on him, eyes locked on his as you throw your phone onto the bed next to you. You know this game, and you know breaking first would mean he has some sort of holding over you. Unblinking, you stay silent as he swallows around your fingers.

The tension in the air is thick; it’s nothing you can’t handle, nothing you aren’t used to. Thor is the first one to surrender, looking down at your baby pink stilettos. “Good boy,” you huff, moving to open a drawer that conveniently sits just within arm’s reach. You withdraw you hand from his mouth but don’t move to wipe his spit from your fingers. Thor can’t see anything you’re doing, but does hear a smaller (and less used, judging by the squeaking noise it makes as you open it) drawer open, the sound of a little bell, and then the loud scraping of both drawers closing on top of each other and hitting the back of the structure that holds it.

“Head up,” you command. “Look at me.” Thor’s hesitant but ultimately obeys. His eyes widen as he sees the items in your hand. The first is a simple, black ball gag and the other a frilly, pink collar with a small bow and equally tiny bell at the front center. In the back, an adjustable metal clip.

The gag is slipped on first, the uncomfortably large sphere blocking any searing remarks from leaving his lips. As spit pools below his tongue and from the corners of his mouth, all he can do is growl low in his throat.

Despite your long, pointed nails you open the clasp of the collar with ease, flashing it close to your captive’s face like an owner showing a dog his new restraint. Thor may be your pet, and you may be his rightful owner, but the move isn’t one that builds trust. It’s one that makes his insides curl, because it’s a demonstration of how much power you have over him. Look at this thing, the gesture conveys. Do you understand now? You’re mine. Everyone will know that. Everyone will know what you did. This is your retribution.

“Are you gonna shut up now?” Thor doesn’t move, but he also doesn’t make any disgruntled noises. “Good. Now, let me make myself clear, since it appears you do not know the terms of Stark’s and my agreement; Stark settled to give me the man who permanently injured one of my best men in exchange for my forgiveness of the entire event. That means two things. First, Stark gets the money he needs from my business in order to remain powerful. Second, I get to do whatever I want to you. Understand?”

Thor’s eyebrows furrow. What do you want to do to him?

“For now, though, I am going to untie you and go to bed, because I am tired, and it has been an exhausting day. Got it?”

Thor nods.

“Good.”

He flinches as you kneel down to his level and begin to untie him from the complicated binds. Your fingers move with purpose, your nails occasionally scraping across his electrified skin. With his body uninhibited, he flexes his fingers as to examine the indents in his flesh.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “Those will go away by morning.”

Somehow, he doesn’t believe you.

He spends the night on the cold wooden floor, occasionally making a desperate attempt to fit himself on the tiny plush pink carpet that the dresser rests on. Thor doesn’t get much shut-eye, time either spent shivering or trying to plan for survival. He can’t escape, it’s been made very clear that both Excidium and the Nest will both be hunting him down if he so much as pisses where he’s not supposed to. It seems keeping his mouth shut, following orders, and taking whatever it is you want to put him through with whatever tiny amount of dignity he has left.

(As the night progresses, he realizes the last part will be the hardest).

When the world comes alive again, Thor remains mostly ignored. As the sun comes up and you awaken with your alarm, he barely gets so much as a brush of fabric as you pull off your white nightgown and slip into a pale-yellow sundress with a long, white cardigan. It’s much different than what you were wearing last night, but as you readjust the strap of your lacey white bra from its improper place on your shoulder, he guesses that was more show(wo)manship and a reiteration of hierarchies than an honest exchange between business partners.

As the first full day under your whim progresses, he’s left behind as you move to your office. You feel some time apart may be good for his insolence, even if his fierceness amuses you so.

You like a challenge, especially one you know you can win; a little tussle didn’t hurt anybody, has it?

You instruct one of the new recruits to buy you a dog bed – the largest one they can find – and you have it placed on the floor next to your bed so you can keep an easy eye on him throughout the day. Thor’s kept on a leash attached to the collar on his neck; the piece of leather is flimsy at best, but the man still refuses to break out of it for fear of punishment.  

There, on a large, baby pink pet meant for some Doberman or Pitbull or other bigass dog, he waits, ears perking up whenever someone, anyone steps into the room. But, while he craves human contact, the hushed voices of the maids that clean up the dirty clothes and make your bed make the hairs on the back of Thor’s neck stand in fear.

Natasha, lover, retribution.

Bucky, money, revenge.

Loki, trip, return.

He can’t tell which name fills him more with dread. Barnes is barely healed and full of rage at his injury, desperate for vengeance against the man that hurt him so. Natasha Romanoff is a woman that Thor has never truly met, only seen when Stark and you have business that requires some back up. Even so, the stories of her apathy and brutality need no introduction; once, she cut a dude’s dick off, made a wallet from the foreskin, and sent it to him while he was recovering in the hospital. She carries a switchblade in the inside of her bra. She only has red hair because the blood crusted onto it permanently stains the follicles.

And Loki…

Well, Loki and him have been estranged since they were both late teens. They’ve both had daddy issues since birth, and Loki’s so happened to manifest in a weird mix of picking up mercenary work, becoming a serial sugar baby, and wearing a lot of black. The last thing Thor would expect is for Loki to settle down for someone like you, a woman who requires loyalty of heart, mind, soul.

His thumping heart and terrifying internal monologue are interrupted by a maid, one he hadn’t yet seen, whose face scrunches up when she notices your absence from the room. She then sighs, and beckons two other maids – one pushing a cart filled with a small buffet of food, one carrying a cart with cutlery and dinnerware – through the threshold. The three of them stop at a bone-white desk, fretting about as they set up what Thor can only assume is a late lunch.

As you step into the bedroom – pushed through the doorway by the maid from before – Thor can tell you are less than happy.

You’re annoyed, to say the least. Can’t even tell why, really, can’t find an even barely comprehendible reason for you to be tearing through financial documents as if they were important family heirlooms that were on fire. No reason for you to snap at a recent recruit for misspelling the code name of a spy you had placed in the Nevada Supreme Court three courts back. Some madness bites at your skin as you nibble on small sandwiches and drink a large glass of cold sun tea, and Thor can tell it’s tearing you apart.

Thor can’t see much from the floor, but he can feel the electricity in the air as you scribble in a notebook that he guesses is where you plan all of your mob’s heinous activities. He wonders what your handwriting looks like, how you keep all the people you’re blackmailing straight, what kind of code you use. Stark keeps everything on paper as well, in a locked room inside of a secret room inside of his basement (well, maybe. Thor’s never been there, he’d never gotten high enough in the Nest to warrant being given access to such a space, but he’s heard the rumors).

It's about an hour later when the head butler from before, the one who led him, his (former) boss, and his (former) bosses men through your maze of a home, steps just into view of your tired eyes.

“Miss, you need a break,” she says simply.

You sigh, rubbing at the bridge of your nose and then your temples. Resting your head in one hand, you use the other to grant her permission to grab your paperwork. It’s only when she’s gather your things and left the room that you speak.

“She’s right,” you let out a small chuckle before sauntering over to the white dresser in the far corner of the room. “I do need a stress reliever.”

The man on your floor can’t see what you’re doing, his eyes only widening when you place the thickest, blackest dildo he’s ever seen into his view.

“Wh-“he starts to speak, trying but failing to push himself away from you. “What are you doing to do with that?”

You shrug, eyeing it up and down. “I don’t know. Could fuck myself with it…could fuck you with it…”

Thor’s stubbled face is beet red from embarrassment, even more so than when you made him kneel in the dining room or gagged him with your fingers.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little slut,” you hiss. When he doesn’t look up at you, you grab his chin and force his head back. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it wouldn’t be fun if he just gave in the second you put the tiniest bit of pressure on his overly-tough facade. “Tell me you love sucking my cock.”

But all Thor does is open his mouth wide as it can go and pushes his flattened tongue as far out of his mouth as it’ll go. He’s got this glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips that tells you Thor knows what he’s doing, he knows he’s pushing every button he can think to push.

You’ve danced this routine before, though this time Thor’s much more confident, willing to push further, push harder.

“You want to be a brat?” You ask, begging him to give you a smartass response. “Then take it like one.”

With swift movements of your right leg he’s pushed flat on the ground, his back hitting the hardwood with a low thud. “Flip over,” you tell him. With an unfortunate lack of protest, he does, toned stomach settling onto the floor barely warmed by his back.

You climb over him, leg on each side and core pressed into him as you gather his hair in your first. “You’re such a fucking tease,” you hiss through grit teeth. Thor makes a similar – but more pained noise – as you wretch his head back. “Such a little tease, begging me to put him in his fucking place. If you wanted me to fuck you like you deserve, you should fucking ask for it next time.”

Smack, the deep sound of your callous hand hitting the soft flesh of his ass almost makes him flinch more than the pain. Smacksmack, two more, quicker this time.

“I’ve met little fucking brats before, but never like you,” you pull the rest of his clothes off with minimal protest. “Gotta get you cock drunk before you’ll figure out how arrangement of ours works, don’t I?”

Thor, with his eyes scrunched shut and mouth lax, says nothing in return.

Your hand reaches under him, hips lifting to provide a small space between him and the floor. He’s already hard, aching, leaking, and he moans brokenly when you wrap your hand around him.      

It’s rough, hurts more than it pleasures, but it still feels so, so good all the same. Thor almost wants to say so, too, but can’t make himself push the words from his throat.

“So easy to get you all fucked out isn’t it?” You whisper low in his ear. “So easy to break brats like you, makes me wanna make you cum and then leave you here for the rest of the night…”

The subsequent whine from Thor makes you laugh and push him harder into the floor. “But I won’t do that, can’t leave little things like you all alone, would be like leaving a baby bunny to a bunch of wolves.”

Thor doesn’t disagree, doesn’t try to build his demolished ego back up.

“Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?” you purr, hand keeping a slow, torturous pace. “Doesn’t it feel good to be good?”

All Thor can do is squeak and push his face into the floor, trying to hide the deep redness in his cheeks.

For once, you don’t punish him. You want to, want to stop and make him beg for forgiveness for his nonanswer. Maybe tie him up and fuck him with your fingers until he’s ready for your biggest strap, pounding into him.

Oh, Babyboy, you’re being so good taking this whole cock inside of you, aren’t you? So good for your owner. I bet nobody’s ever fucked you this good.

Maybe you’ll tie him up, edge him until he’s sobbing. Wait until he’s just about to cum and pull a vibrator or your hand away – make him whine and tease him as his whole body twitches.

Are you not enjoying yourself, baby? Because it looks to me like you are. Look at those glassy eyes, do I need to slap you to make you pay attention?

Thor screams as he cums all over your floor, whole body tense then completely lax within the span of seconds. His breathing is loud enough to be heard across nations, each exhale laced with a small moan.

He cries, deep and low, when you climb off of him, tries to arch his spine into the nothingness that once held you.

“Shh,” you tell him. “Mommy’ll be back in a second.”

Thor seems to calm with that, heart still racing but head and body slumped.

When you come back, you hold a bit of salmon - small grains of buttery jasmine rice and cranberry sauce stuck to the pink meat. You’ve grasped it with three fingers – thumb, middle, point – and have it nearly pressed to Thor’s plush, pink lips. It’s still warm, dinner having  been served by the maids despite your absence from the dining room.

“C’mon baby,” you tell him. “You gotta eat sometime.”

Thor glares at you but knows you’re right – his already flat stomach howling in pain from lack of sustenance. Reluctantly, meekly, he pulls your fingers between his lips and swallows the soft food.

“Good boy,” you tell him. “See? Following directions isn’t that bad.”

Thor, for the first time in days, says nothing to the contrary.

 //

[spartanguard]

something in the water, part 6

Emma is sent to investigate a mysterious sea monster appearance in her hometown. Thankfully, her family there knows her secret: that at night, she transforms into a swan. And she knows that whoever the universe thinks her soulmate is, as dictated by the tattoo on her side, won’t be there. Though maybe she was wrong to assume that. And when did a merman start hanging out in the ocean near Storybrooke?

rated M | 6.5k | part 1 (art) | part 2 (art) | part 3 (art) | part 4 (art) | part 5 (art) | AO3

A/N: Getting closer to the end! There will be two chapters after this, and hopefully they’ll post in the next few weeks. Thank you so much for continuing to read and still to the people behind @cssns for putting it all together! Art to come!

By that night, Emma could find a few things to complain about being a swan—mostly food-related—but it was better than properly dealing with people and whatever fallout there was from Killian’s revelation.

(A small, guilty voice told her she should hear him out, or at least give an explanation for the way she was ghosting—swanning?—him, but her wounded heart loudly told it to shut up.)

Snow had come down to check on her that morning and was visibly upset when Emma told her things hadn’t gone well at Killian’s (but assured her it was nothing that bad; as bitter as she was toward him at the moment, everything they did had been completely consensual.)

Snow did also ask if she planned on transforming back soon; Emma just told her she wasn’t sure.

The pair of ducks who were nesting nearby were definitely a bit confused by her presence during the day, but no one else seemed to pay her much mind—until now, of course.

Heavy footsteps made their way down the dock that could only belong to David; she turned and there he was, slightly illuminated by the quarter moon.

“Did you bring me food?” she called out as a greeting.

“Yeah, but you won’t like it,” he answered, then took a seat on the end of the dock and dumped a bowl of stuff onto the water.

She swam up and took a bite, then gagged. “Ugh, kale? Are you trying to kill me? Where are the onion rings?”

“Fried food is terrible for birds. And so is cheese,” he added quickly before she could protest further.

“Fine,” she muttered, while begrudgingly eating; hunger was winning out and swan instincts went for the greens and corn he’d brought down.

“So you stayed a swan all day?” he asked, sounding curious but also like he was getting at something.

“Yeah,” she answered between bites. “Why?”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“Nope.”

“Can I ask why you did today?”

“Can I eat without a damn interrogation?” she barked.

“No.”

“Ugh!” He was such a brother. “I just...wanted to see if I could,” she told him. It wasn’t the whole truth but it was certainly a tiny part of it—she’d never tried to hold it off indefinitely.

“You know I don’t buy that,” David scolded. “Does this have anything to do with the panicked phone call I just got from Killian?”

She nearly choked on a corn kernel. “What?”

“He just called me, freaking out, because you didn’t come over and he didn’t have a way to get in touch.”

“Oh. Guess I lost track of time.” She promptly found the biggest piece of kale there to start eating.

“I told him you got caught up with some work stuff, but Emma, what’s going on? I thought things had been going good with him, but now this, and you’re here, and Snow told me what you told her this morning. What happened?”

She chewed over her food and her words. As much of a sap as David was when it came to love, it was at least possible to have a rational conversation with him about it (well, more than it was with Snow).

Finally, she swallowed and said, “I don’t think Killian is who I thought he was.”

David tilted his head in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

She sighed and told him what had happened last night—not delving into all of what went down on their date, obviously (she didn’t want to scar her brother), but what Killian had unwittingly told her later. “I can’t…I can’t go through that again, David. I can’t take the chance I’m wrong about him.”

Depressingly, he had no response; he just stared at the surface, face scrunched in thought. His silence was disconcerting to say the least.

“What, no offers to go kick his ass? No brotherly tidbits of advice?” He was usually so quick to jump into action with stuff like this; she’d been pretty positive she was going to have to bail him out of jail after Neal broke up with her.

“Emma,” he started with a sigh; oh no—he was using his dad voice. “I get why you’re worried, but I don’t think that whatever Killian isn’t telling you is anywhere near on the level of Neal. He’s just not like that.”

“Do...do you know?”

“No, I don’t; but I know Killian. He’s a good one, Em.”

That little guilty voice just got a bit louder; maybe she had overreacted—but could anyone actually blame her, given her past?

“And Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not like you don’t have some secrets of your own, too,” he lectured, nodding at her—or, more specifically, her present form.

And now the guilty voice was screaming at her, because he was right. (And she always hated when he was; at least he wouldn’t be able to see her pouting.)

Sensing that the conversation was over, David said goodnight and left her with her thoughts, of which she had many. On the one hand, she knew her reasons for keeping her feathered side hidden were completely understandable, given her personal experience and society at large.

So wasn’t it fair to assume that whatever he was hiding, he had an equally good reason for it?

What could be so big that he had to hide it, though? A kid? Addiction? Was he Superman or something? If it was the first two, he had to know she’d be understanding; if the last, well, okay, she could see the need for secrecy there.

And it wasn’t like she had never planned on fanning her feathers for him; she just didn’t know when would be the right time, if ever.

But by the time dawn rolled around, she knew: she had definitely jumped to conclusions, and owed him the chance to explain.

She perched on the dock for her transformation, which thankfully happened normally—she’d been kind of worried that because she held it off once, she might not change back. It was a bit more painful than usual, but she was pretty sure her shaking afterwards had more to do with being naked in near-freezing temperatures than that.

So she made a mad dash into the house—and the hot bath she knew would be waiting for her, bless Snow—while starting to plan her next move: how did she apologize and give him a second chance without letting him know that she knew something was up?

Not for the first time, she thought to herself: what the hell is my life?

Cautiously, and armed with fancy coffee from the little cafe in town, she entered the library later that day.

She’d used her bath earlier to help her decide on a plan of action. In addition to being her designated swim spot in the colder months, it was also a really good way to unwind and let her mind sort things out. Usually, it involved one of her cases; almost counterintuitively, the steam from the water could sometimes help her see things a bit clearer, or at least from a different angle. She’d never have caught that runaway mini-giant otherwise. (Yeah, it was an oxymoron, but apparently he was the runt of his family and only appeared to be taller than average. Nice guy, though, and his brothers were happy to be reunited.)

Anyways, it also helped her realize that, when it came down to it, nothing between them had really changed. Physically, it had, yeah, which she had absolutely no complaints about; but there were already a lot of things that they didn’t know about each other. Whatever this unsaid thing was was simply part of that. And rather than being upset about it now, she just wanted to get to the point that he felt comfortable enough to share it—and she really wanted to get there herself, too.

As usual, he was behind the circulation desk when she walked in. At the sound of the bell, he looked up over his glasses, which, like always, were adorably slipping down his nose. But there wasn’t the usual face-splitting grin that accompanied her visits.

“Hi, Emma,” he said, slowly and guardedly. Which, of course, just made her feel worse, but that was why she was here.

“Hi. I, uh, brought you coffee, again,” she stammered as she approached the desk. (She clearly wasn’t off to a good start.)

“Uh, thanks,” he said, and scratched behind his ear before taking the proffered beverage. But he didn’t take a sip; he just held onto it, staring at it for a moment, before starting, “Look, about the other night—”

“No, it’s—”

“I apologize if—”

“I’m the one who needs to apologize,” she blurted, making him pause. “I’m sorry I bailed on you last night with no explanation. The truth is…” She had to take a deep breath before she launched into the apology she’d decided on earlier. “I got a little freaked out. It’s been a long time since I did...that...and it actually meant something, and was with a guy I liked. And I’ve already told you how that ended, so I kind of got inside my own head about things, even though I know you’re so much better than him. So I know what it probably looked like, and for that, I apologize; it wasn’t anything on your end—it was all on mine. I shouldn’t have doubted you like that, and I’m really sorry.”

She had to take another breath there because she’d basically blurted it all out. She wasn’t sure how he would react, and to her dismay, he didn’t at first—he seemed uncharacteristically speechless, actually.

“I...uh...you like me?” he finally stammered.

Immediately, she blushed. “I figured that was pretty obvious,” she said as the heat rose on her cheeks. They’d had sex, for crying out loud—amazing, soul-satisfying sex—and here she was, feeling like she was back in fifth grade.

“It’s nice to get confirmation,” he replied, smirking, before turning serious. “I appreciate your apology, though I certainly wasn’t expecting it; I know how things can get in the heat of the moment and was worried we’d moved too fast. So, thank you for telling me all that,” he effused, placing his hand over hers where it rested on the counter. “This may be a bold proclamation,” he said, swallowing, “but I hope I can rebuild your trust enough that you can forget all about that arse and never have reason to doubt intentions again.”

He was telling the truth. She gave him a tiny smile, and told him, “I hope so, too.” Which was possibly an even more daring idea, coming from her.

It wasn’t a declaration of love or undying devotion, or anything sappy like that. But for both of them, it meant they were looking ahead, and that was something she knew neither of them had done in ages.

The air between them grew heavy, but not with passion—just with a deep sense of understanding and affection. To make the moment perfect, she rose up on her toes, leaned onto the desk to grab his open collar, gently brought him close, and kissed him softly but solidly. The edge of the counter cut into her stomach but she really didn’t care, and hardly noticed when she was kissing such a fantastic man.

(Who was also an amazing kisser, by the way, so it’s not like she would have noticed anything short of the building catching on fire—which, if they didn’t let up, might happen as the heat rose between them.)

Reluctantly, they broke apart for air and she fell back on her heels, licking her lips. His eyes were closed, those long lashes lying against his cheekbones, as an almost silly little smirk took over his mouth. He was so damn cute she couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

He made a production of blinking and coming back to reality at the sound. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just adorable.”

She expected a protest, but he just replied, “Damn right, I am.” And then they both giggled, since that was apparently their mood; damn, now they were both acting like school kids. (But she couldn’t help it if this mini-make-up had her feeling as excited as one.)

“So, to make up to you for last night, can I take you out tonight? There’s a little place across town that isn’t Granny’s,” she offered.

He smiled, but it faltered. “I’d love to, but today...well, it’s Liam’s birthday.” His expression sat on the border of apologetic and mournful. “So I always go for a sail, in his memory. You’re more than welcome to join me, of course.”

She quickly berated herself for assuming he’d be free; how self-centered was that? Especially when he had something like that going on. She’d definitely been spoiled by his attentions the past few days. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose like that, especially with my weird curfew and everything,” she answered, trying to cover up her disappointment. “How about tomorrow night, then?”

“Are you sure? I can postpone.”

“No; go. That’s important. Just be safe; Maine weather blows.” Literally—the forecast called for a storm tonight, with potential for freezing. In May. What the hell?

“I’ve noticed,” he chuckled. “And I will. But then: definitely tomorrow.”

“Good. I can’t wait.” She didn’t normally admit stuff like that but she was on a roll with it today; may as well continue.

“Me either, love.” Without another word, he strode around the counter to pull her into his arms for another deep kiss.

(And maybe a few more.)

Until he pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. “As much as I’d love to carry this on, Snow’s class will be here sooner than I’d like—”

“—And we’d never hear the end of it,” she finished.

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines that I’m supposed to be giving a literature lesson rather than a biology one,” he quipped.

She snorted; what a nerd. “Yeah, that too. Okay, until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow,” he echoed, then gave her another soft kiss.

“Oh, wait!” she nearly shouted, just remembering something. “Give me your phone!”

He tilted his head to the side in curiosity as he did as asked, pulling his phone from his back pocket and handing it over. She tried not to think about the fact that it had been in such close proximity to his perfect rear end as she plugged her number into it and hit the dial button. “So you don’t have to go through David again.”

“That’s helpful,” he commented. “We probably should have done that a while ago.”

She shrugged. “Better late than never?” They’d been seeing each other so often that they didn’t really need it.

“Definitely.” He glanced at the time when she handed the device back. “But now we really might be cutting it close with Snow.”

“Okay; I’ll run. Have fun, be safe, et cetera. Bye!” she blurted, placing one last kiss on his lips before making a dash for the door.

And it was just in time, because she heard a gaggle of voices, including Snow’s, approaching as soon as she got outside and went to hide in the alley next to the building. Obviously, she wasn’t ashamed of anything; she just didn’t need that pressure hanging over her. So she waited there until she heard the door shut after the last student went in, while she programmed Killian’s number into her phone (and added a blue heart after his name, just to make this morning full-on preteen girl).

Once the coast was clear, she pocketed her phone and headed back down the street, on her way to Granny’s for some actual food; she was still starving after the last day or so in swan mode, despite the entire box of Pop-Tarts she ate that morning.

She hadn’t made it a block when her phone started buzzing, so she pulled it back out; Regina was calling. That wasn’t really surprising; they’d only exchanged a couple brief texts over the last couple days, and she was due back in a few. She answered with a cheery “Hello!”

“Emma? Is that you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure no one had stolen your phone.”

“Why?”

“You’re so...cheery.”

Ugh, this was exactly why she had avoided talking to her on the phone last week, wasn’t it? “Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?”

“Oh, no, you are; it’s just...a change. I told you you needed a vacation!”

She chuckled. “Yeah, you were right. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Just wanted to check in on the assignment. Did you find anything?”

“Yeah, actually; turns out there’s a merman here.”

“Wow, really? In Storybrooke?”

“Apparently. I haven’t talked to him, but anytime I saw him, it matched the description. Not sure what else it could be.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Let Cruella know and then enjoy the rest of your trip, then.”

“Will do. How are things there? Anything more on your case?”

“Eh, nothing good. Actually, maybe you should get in touch with that merman—we had a mermaid go missing the other day.”

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah. She’s married to a human and he came in to report it. And guess who he works for.”

“Gold.” It made her stomach turn; why couldn’t they nab this guy? “When I come back, I’m helping you on that.”

“We’ll see. Only if we can do it safely; I’m not risking you, or anyone else.”

Ugh, she hated when Regina was rational about these things. “Gotcha. Anything else?”

“Nope, unless you want to bring me back some Granny’s lasagna.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Alright. See you Monday.”

“Bye.”

She wasn’t going to think about how few days she had left here as she traipsed across Granny’s patio and into the diner; she was just gonna get some food, run by Cruella’s, wrap up this assignment, and then enjoy the rest of the time here with Killian, and they’d figure out what came next when they needed to.

That’s what she was assuring herself as she went through the door when she collided with someone—someone covered in fur.

“Emma, darling! So sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

Speaking of the devil, there she was. Emma seriously wondered how many small, adorable creatures had to die to make the black-and-white jacket Cruella was wearing right now. (Though, given how well it matched her hair...ew, no, not finishing that thought.)

“It’s okay; I wasn’t—looking,” Emma tried to apologize, but Cruella wrapped her up in a bear (or some other furred animal) hug.

“Nonsense! Now tell me, dear, how goes the research? Have you had any luck out there?” Thankfully, she let go so Emma could talk.

“Uh, yeah—there’s a merman out there,” she said quietly, almost whispering to avoid being overheard.

“Oh, really?” Cruella clapped her hands and Emma was pretty sure they’re were stars in her eyes, she was so excited. “Oh, that’s so exotic! Oh, my friends will be pleased indeed! Thank you so much, darling!” And she promptly took Emma’s face in her hands and placed a way-too-wet peck on her cheek.

“Uh, my pleasure,” Emma answered, semi-stunned by what just happened.

“Well, I must be off, but thank you ever so much, pet! Ta-ta!” And she sashayed out the door, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume and a bit of shedded fur behind her.

Emma just gaped for a moment, staring into space at that turbulent conversation, before forcing herself to move. She was still baffled as she slid onto a stool, but shook her head to bring herself back to the present. God, Cruella was weird; but at least that was over.

It must have been that kind of day, because Ruby practically stumbled out from the back looking just as bewildered. She stopped in front of Emma, focused on some unseen thing below the counter, before looking up at Emma and blinking. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Emma answered slowly.

“I wasn’t just awkwardly staring at nothing for, like, 5 minutes, was I?”

“No; you just came out from the back.” It wasn’t like her to be so out of it—even hungover Ruby was more alert than this. “Rubes, are you okay?”

“I...maybe? I honestly don’t know.” It almost looked like Ruby was shaking, and it had nothing to do with her platform high-heels—though they probably didn’t help.

Emma was getting seriously worried. “Did something happen? Is Granny okay? Dorothy?”

At the mention of her girlfriend, Ruby immediately perked up and bit back a grin. “Just—come here.” And immediately, she took off through the dining room for the secluded back part of the restaurant, beckoning Emma to follow.

Emma almost had to run through, nearly knocking over a waitress as she went, but it was quiet in the back near the stairs to the bed & breakfast upstairs. So whatever this was, it was big, and likely supernatural.

“Okay, what is it?” she asked. “Did you shift in front of Dorothy?”

“Yeah, but it’s the part that comes before it that’s a bit more important.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “How can anything be bigger than that? That’s making yourself so vulnerable!” It may have been personal experience talking, but she didn’t want to see Ruby’s heart pummeled like hers had been, even if it was well on its way to letting someone in again.

“Well, it’s because...it’s a...soulmate...thing,” she stammered, looking down at the tile floor and appearing somehow small, despite the way she towered over almost everyone.

Wow—soulmates? Emma knew Ruby had a mark—a cyclone-like swirl low on her hip—but she’d never expressed any desire to find them. There had been a few serious relationships since her first boyfriend, but they all fizzled out after a few intense months. Her werewolf status definitely had something to do with that, same as Emma’s stuff, but it was still a little surprising.

“Are-are you sure?”

“Completely. You know how my mark looks like a tornado?” Emma nodded. “Well, we were starting to get down to business when she saw it, and told me how she survived one when she was a kid. And she’s a meteorologist now; honestly, I should have seen it.”

“What’s hers?” Emma had to ask.

“That’s the other freaky part,” Ruby said, and leaned in. “It’s a wolf.”

Emma’s breath hitched.

“I kind of had to transform after that.”

“Yeah...wow. How did she take it?”

“She was surprised a bit, at first, which I expected, but then she was totally fine. Just pet and cuddled me. And then I shifted back, and reminded her how I’ve always been a wolf in bed,” she concluded with a wink and a grin.

Emma snorted and relaxed a bit. The weight of the revelation was still settling on her, so a moment of levity was much-needed. But it was kind of a huge deal. She was thrilled for her best friend, obviously, but there were also other implications—personal ones that she didn’t really want to address, but knew she should. “So...for people like us…”

“The marks are us, I think.”

That’s what she was afraid of. Something in her stilled, or started taking up a solid presence in her stomach, or maybe that ice cream from the other night had a freezing spell in it—whatever it was, it was stopping her in place as that epiphany washed over her.

Somewhere out there was a person for her with a swan-shaped mark somewhere on their body.

And, more than likely, it was a merman.

(Quite possibly the one that was here in Storybrooke right now.)

Shit. She needed to think about this. And probably a stiff drink.

“Hey—you okay, Ems?” Ruby’s voice jolted her from her haze; she blinked comically and saw her friend watching her with concern in the set of her brow but understanding in her eyes. She knew just how much she’d rocked Emma’s world.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m—I’m alright,” she tried to assure her, but it was hard to be convincing when she didn’t believe it herself. “I’m just...so happy for you!” she redirected; at least that was true. And she promptly wrapped Ruby in a hug, hiding the conflict on her face as she buried it in Ruby’s shoulder.

Ruby returned the embrace, giggling, but then Emma heard her start sniffing. Uh oh.

“Emma, why do you…?” She sniffed again. “What’s that…?” She practically inhaled Emma’s hair. “Oh my God! You and Killian had sex!” she whisper-yelled.

“Holy crap, quiet down!” Emma replied as she stepped back. “How the hell could you tell that?”

“I told you—I can smell him on you. It’s faint, but it’s there. I’m guessing...two nights ago?”

“Jeez, seriously?”

“Is that a yes?”

Emma let out a long sigh. “Yes.”

Ruby squealed. “Get it, girl!”

“You did not just say that.”

“I did and I have no shame. You banged Killian Jones! Be proud!”

Emma rolled her eyes, but could feel the blush rise in her cheeks; okay, she was a little proud that she nabbed the hottest guy in Storybrooke. (And the sweetest, and the most sensitive, and the most caring...she could go on.) But she was a little too emotionally unsteady right now to boast.

With impeccable timing, Granny called for Ruby from the kitchen; there was no doubt she heard their entire conversation and knew Emma needed some alone time. Ruby made her promise to give details later before dashing back to work, leaving Emma to wander back to her seat.

She was in a kind of daze through her meal—she knew she ate, but couldn’t remember what. And at some point, she realized she was driving the Bug up the Nolan’s long driveway, but had no idea how she got there from Granny’s—which was actually really worrying, but thankfully, she hadn’t gotten into an accident.

The rest of the afternoon, she spent either seated on the dock, staring at the slowly rippling water, or in her room, gazing at the cloudy gray sky. Her thoughts just kept running on the same monotonous loop:

She now knew more about her soulmate than she ever had before. For most people, that realization would be thrilling, but for Emma, it somehow felt like a letdown.

Because if her soulmate was a merman, then that meant it wasn’t Killian.

She knew, she knew that she shouldn’t even have hoped he was. They’d barely known each other for more than a week, for fuck’s sake. And normally, she didn’t even have any soulmate-related thoughts, let alone entertain them, despite their first date conversation.

No—it was hitting her now because now, it was out of reach. How effing cliche of her.

But on the other hand, she didn’t want some higher power deciding her life anymore than it already had. Yeah, the whole soulmates thing worked out for Snow and Dave, and was looking like it would for Ruby, but—she wasn’t them. If she was going to find her true love or whatever, she wanted to find it on her terms, like she might be doing with Killian.

Of course, there was no guarantee things would last with him; he still had that secret, and she’d been burned enough in life to get too terribly optimistic. And there was also no saying that she couldn’t find something equally great with this mystery merman. She could be denying herself further happiness by avoiding him. And she’d always felt drawn to merpeople, even before she knew they were real; maybe that was the reason for it.

But if he wasn’t the one here in Storybrooke, then who knew how long it could take to find him? And she couldn’t bear to hurt Killian like that, even if it freed him to find his soulmate. And the thought of Killian being with someone else made her stomach turn, so she was kind of back to square one.

The buts and what ifs and fuck nos just kept repeating until she was tired of hearing them over and over again. But she couldn’t seem to shut it off. She knew she should probably talk to David or Snow, but it wasn’t like they’d say anything that she wasn’t already thinking.

She faked her way through dinner, participating enough in the conversation that they wouldn’t notice she was mentally preoccupied, and then took a shower, hoping it might clear her head. It didn’t.

Once she had dressed, she flopped on her bed and grabbed the first book off the stack on the nightstand, hoping to get lost in a story. But of course, it was the merman romance novel. Still, she gave it a try, and there was something weirdly hot about it, but it really wasn’t helping her at the moment.

So instead, she tossed it back aside and dug out her old copy of Order of the Phoenix to read; if Hogwarts couldn’t distract her, then nothing could; thankfully, it did.

It was dark outside—eerily so due to a brewing storm—when she got to one particular line from Dumbledore.

“We can’t choose our fate, but we can choose others. Be careful in knowing that.”

She was well aware of the first part, but the second stood out to her: we can choose others.

Choose.

She had a choice. Sure, there was some higher being that had a plan for her; but there was nothing saying she had to buy into it. She could choose to be with whoever she wanted, and really, she’d already made that decision.

And right now, that choice was living on dry land, on two legs, on the other side of town, and had managed to slip into her heart easier than anyone ever had.

She set the book down and looked at the time; she had about an hour and a half until transformation time. She had no idea when he was supposed to get back from his sailing trip, but she didn’t care; she just wanted to see him, even if she’d have to wait a while and change forms.

(And she was well aware that she might be tempting some soulmate-related things, but now that she’d made a decision, she wasn’t going to question it.)

Hastily, she barrelled down the stairs while shooting off a quick text to Killian. Are you home? Can I come over? She slipped down the last couple steps but somehow stayed on her feet, so she grabbed her jacket off the coatrack by the door after regaining her balance, shouted a quick ‘bye!’ to Dave and Snow, and threw open the door to dash out to her car through the rain.

A rumble of thunder accompanied the similar sound of her engine coming to life, and she flipped on the headlights and wipers, shifted into drive, and peeled out (as much as anyone could peel out of a wet gravel driveway).

Lightning streaked overhead and she felt like she was driving almost as fast, making near-record time to his house. No lights were on when she pulled up, though, and he hadn’t replied to her text yet.

She grabbed her umbrella off of where it lived on the floor by the passenger’s seat and headed out, running around the house to his dock—his currently empty dock. Damn. No wonder he hadn’t answered her.

Now what? She wasn’t sure what to do, and shifted her weight side to side as she stared out at the horizon—what she could see of it, at least. The rain was coming down harder than when she’d left home and the wind was picking up, making the sea choppy. She stood there for a few more minutes, hoping to catch any sight of his ship out in the open water, but he must have been beyond the view of the cove.

Another strike of lightning flashed, reminding Emma that she probably shouldn’t be standing out in the open with an umbrella during a thunderstorm. She gave one last scan for the ship, but resigned her search and headed back to the car.

She waited there another twenty minutes or so, but no signs of life returned to his house and it was getting close to transformation time. She fully planned on staying out here until he got back—she didn’t like how rough the waves looked and wanted to make sure he got in okay—but didn’t want to risk him coming home to her empty car in his driveway and a swan hanging out near his dock. So she relocated to her hiding place, sent a text to Dave to let him know where she was, and settled in to wait.

Dave, true to paternalistic form, told her to be careful. But he was right: this storm was intense. She really didn’t want to go out in it, but now was at the point where she didn’t have enough time to drive home, and her swan form couldn’t see over the steering wheel if she stayed in here.

There was no fighting it, so she just bucked up and stripped, and managed to slip out her door just as the transformation took hold. She was just strong enough as a swan to get the door shut again, thankfully, so at least she’d have dry clothes at the end of the night.

Her attempt at flying to Killian’s dock didn’t go so well—the wind tossed her around like she was a seagull. So she swam to it as quick as she was able and took up her watch underneath. The waves were surprisingly violent even here, so close to shore; more than once, they tossed her up against the underside of the dock, no doubt leaving bruises that she’d find in the morning. (The one downside to changing forms: what happened in one still affected the other; her broken arm in 12th grade also had left her with a broken wing.)

It seemed like hours passed as she waited there in the surf, but finally, she caught the sound of a motor through the constant crash of waves and roll of thunder. She peered out and there it was: the Jolly Roger, fighting against the stormy sea to safe haven. Her sails were folded away but she still looked pretty damn epic as she crested the waves, illuminated by the sporadic bolts of lightning. When it got closer, she could see Killian at the wheel, underneath a protective awning that had been drawn over the helm and adorably wrapped up in what was possibly the baggiest raincoat she’d ever seen. She still didn’t understand his aversion to being wet but admired his ability to stay dry.

Docking seemed to take forever as he urged the ship against waves that were determined to take him back out to sea, but eventually, he was able to get close enough to toss a line out or whatever—she couldn’t exactly see everything from under the dock, but was aware that the ship’s engine had been shut off and the whole thing was slowly drifting closer.

She heard a long sigh from Killian, and then his footsteps were on the wood above her. If she looked at the right angle, she could see him through the slats; it looked like he was bracing against the wind and trying to hold his hood on.

It didn’t last, though; a gust blew it off his head and he froze where he was, glancing around and down at himself. She could just make out the rain plastering his hair to his forehead and the almost panicked look on his face that slowly melted to a smile. What was that about?

But her wondering quickly became terror when a huge wave came up, smashing her against the dock and knocking the wind out of her. Then it dragged her under the surface until she became disoriented—it was deeper than she realized here, and with no moonlight to help her discern which way was up, she could feel the hysteria setting in.

Somehow, she managed to hold her breath and calm down, letting herself float to the surface. She gasped for air when she broke through, as much as a swan could gasp, at least. Once she regained her bearings, she looked toward Killian’s cottage, hoping for some sign of him, but it was still dark.

Frantically, she scanned the dock and his ship, but he wasn’t there. The wave must have knocked him off, so she started to look around for him in the water but...nothing. Did he not know how to swim?

“Killian!” she called out, even though he wouldn’t understand her. “Killian!” She honestly didn’t know what she sounded like to the untrained ear, but if it was anything like how she felt, it sounded pretty terrifying.

Thankfully, the rain was tapering off and the clouds were just starting to break up, letting a bit of moonlight free as she swam around and searched and screamed. Finally, she found something floating on the surface, but it didn’t give her much hope—it looked like his rain coat.

She desperately started diving under to look for any sign of him, but she could only dive so far, and the storm had left the water a murky mess. But still she tried, until her lungs burned; she might be an aquatic bird but that didn’t mean she was a fish. She refused to give up, though.

Movement finally caught her eye, but it was the last thing she wanted to see: the familiar blue tail of the resident merman. What the hell was he doing?

Wait—maybe he could help? Was there some way she could get his attention and communicate that Killian was down there somewhere? Do merpeople speak swan?

There was only one way to find out. She started splashing and diving, making a scene, hoping to catch his notice.

His tail fanned out a few more times, getting closer each time. Oh, thank goodness; it seemed to be working.

At last, he broke through the surface—and she immediately froze upon seeing him.

“So that’s you causing all that racket?” Killian said, brushing the hair out of his face and grinning.

Killian. Floating in the water. Where the merman had just been.

“I’m fine, love; but perhaps it’s best you seek shelter for the rest of the night, aye? I’d hate to see my favorite feathered friend hurt in a storm like this.”

Killian—he was—what? Her brain wasn’t computing.

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think you can keep this secret between us?” She had no answer; she didn’t even blink. “Thought so,” he continued on, smirking. “Take care, love.”

And then he was gone, with another flip of his stunning fin.

That was his secret: he was a merman. He was the merman. Emma’s brain was short circuiting with a million questions and answers all at once. But two things quickly reached the forefront of her thoughts:

1. If he was a merman, then that meant there was a chance they were soulmates.

2. HOLY SHIT.

thanks, friends!! I’ll be back soon; promise! tagging: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @initiala @fairytalesandtimetravel @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @flipperbrain @sherlockianwhovian @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich​ @killian-whump​ @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @jackieorioncat @bmbbcs4evr @branlovesouat @jennjenn615 @jaiabean @therooksshiningknight @a-faekindagirl @technicallysizzlingcloud @deathbycaptainswan @superadam54 @unworried-corsair

[razmahdaz-art]

Thunder Rolls Over The Rockys Chapter 1

       Hanzo Shimada’s family was relentless and merciless. Raising him from birth to be nothing but a cold blooded business man with a way of weeding out the weak that didn’t fit his family’s standards. But what truly forced Hanzo’s hand was when his father passed and the council of elders demanded that he eradicate his own brother. He’d finally had enough and the pair ran, going in separate directions. And Hanzo’s direction lead him to the most desolate place where the clan would never look, Midwestern America to a town called Gibralter, Montana. He doesn’t expect much at first, but with a more than welcoming community and bright eyed, wide smiled Cowboy may make this more enjoyable than he once determined.

Words: 3,084

The night was quiet. A rare quiet that settled in all the right ways, the feeling that as if the Earth itself was asleep. The night air whispering to the trees through every breath of wind that rolled through a forgotten canyon that stretched till the visable horizon. The road that rested high up on one edge was ragged and rarely traversed, the asphalt losing all paint while plants sprouted through the cracks on the borders where a year of man-made work meets mother nature’s centuries of carving. Pine trees both stood tall and fallen, bushes grew in wild patches, and rocks lay resting and marked by moss and scratch marks made from fauna that passed through time to time. The sky was decorated with stars that glistened like crystals, the milky way visible clearly against the soot black sky. No clouds dared to obscure the view, all being swept away from the expanse to make room for the piece of art millennia in the making.

It was such an odd sight, Hanzo mused. Growing up in the nest of bright city lights where every star was muffled by the gleaming blaze of artificial light, that seeing even one constellation was to be considered lucky. But looking up from where he stood, pulled over on the side of a high roadway, leaned up against a Jeep that had seen far better days, just done relieving himself after hours of travel with only occasional breaks, Hanzo has a moment to muse the idea of that he may enjoy living out in here.

Driving through the golden California and Nevada deserts, the rich and untouched forests of Idaho, the foreign wildlife he got the pleasure of glimpsing while traversing Yellowstone National Park, all of it mixed into a picture that he had long misinterpreted for years. He was always taught that the Midwest of America was a festering mess of “Hicks” and nothing but either flat plains or forests holding dangerous animals and people. He was pleasantly surprised to see it was more than just that. Even if he held quite a few hints of doubt, in this moment he felt a small tinge of optimism start to expose itself for this new venture.

He took one last deep inhale of the fresh air, savoring it as if it is the last breathe he might take before he wondered back around to the drivers side of the filthy dark blue Jeep and reclaiming his seat behind a well familiarized drivers wheel. The small clock on the radio displayed 10:48 pm as a song that had been long paused scrolled across the bottom of the screen. He pulled his seat belt over his torso and then pulled back onto the abandoned road to make the last miles of his journey. The trees blurred into a smear of green as he drove through the vast canyon. His headlights illuminated the long path in front of him, his window down to keep the cool air ventilating through the cabin, and tired eyes all work to help him find his way to his new home.

The digital clock read 1:32 am in obnoxiously green letters as Hanzo pulled his car into the long, non existent muddied driveway that branched from a secluded dirt road. As the vehicle shuts down and the lights dim, Hanzo overlooks the small wooden cottage that almost blends into the foliage around it, vines of Ivy grafting up the left side of the building that held a brick chimney. He yawned as he grabbed the duffel bag that sat in the front seat next to him for the entire length of his journey, deciding to get the remainder of his things tomorrow afternoon when he wakes up. His feet carried his numb body and sore back to the porch while his hand rummaged through his parsel for the house keys that accompanied the bungalow. The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he reached the leaf and pine needle covered porch and he unlocked the front door to finally see the inside of his new living space.

It held only the bare essentials, but it was still somewhat cared for. A plain, black sofa with a few matching chairs seated around a dust covered mahogany coffee table and all sat in front of a long neglected fireplace with a mantle that only held one small potted succulent. A large bay window was just off to the left, the same wall as the door, and curtains drawn over them that fail to block out the moonlight that shone in. A kitchen towards the back that held only the essentials with nothing more than a fridge, sink and gas oven where a small island acted as the barrier to a dining table that only held two chairs.

Hanzo closed the door behind him as he headed through the living area, dropping his bag on the couch as he marched by. He trudged up the short staircase and into a large open room that held a queen sized bed whose frame was made of logs, two wooden nightstands, and a small dresser that sat at the foot of the bed. Hanzo didn’t have to direct his body to do what it did next. He rapidly kicked off his shoes and jeans, before pulling back the surprisingly comfy bed sheets and his body exhaustively crashing into the mattress, his hands barely managing to drag the blankets over him before he passed out, sleep engrossing him for the first time in his new environment.

The night passed by and faded to day, and as quickly sleep grips Hanzo, he’s pulled back into consciousness seemingly just as quick.

He groaned as he’s jostled awake, daylight streaming in through the one large window that was framed by half drawn, cyan curtains. But the sun wasn’t the only thing that awoke him. The faint sound of knocking on the door downstairs had somehow penetrated Hanzo’s deep slumber. It was occasional and without much rhythm, but still an obnoxious constant. He sat up in the bed, his back stiff and tense from the constant driving, cracking when he twists his torso to help relieve the aches in his bones. His hands messed with the tangled mass of black hair that needed to be washed into a tight but ragged bun as he slowly crept towards the window to catch a glimpse of any life.

Sure enough, there was a small white truck parked outside along his Jeep, but it’s owner couldn’t be seen from this angle. He attempted to wipe the last remnants of exhaustion from his face as he threw on the pants he had worn last night so that he was decent when he finally met this mysterious welcoming party. His feet almost stumbled down the stairs as he came to finally answer the door.

Facing him was a blonde haired woman who wore comfy looking outside wear, a maroon V-neck, open collar shirt and a pair of shorts, her hand hovering in the air as if she was about to knock once more. For a moment she looks surprised, caught off guard assuming that she wouldn’t get an answer. She gives Hanzo one quick glance before offering a sweet smile to the new comer.

“Good Afternoon!” she greeted in a chipper tone. Hanzo was caught off guard for a moment by his own sleeping in. He’d never once in his life slept past nine am.

“Sorry for disturbing you, truly. I just saw you come in last night and i had to see who bought this old cottage,” She said in a thick Swiss accent, her hand running over the wood frame of the door. “My name is Angela Ziegler, I run the clinic in town. It’s always a pleasure to see a new face in town,” she greeted, her other hand extending to shake the muscular man in front of her.

“Shimada, Hanzo. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Ziegler,” Hanzo replied as he shook the other’s hand out of courtesy. Her grip is like a bear trap, strong and surprisingly so. He hadn’t expected it from a woman with such a small frame. She almost sneered at him, but a smile still adorned her lips.

“Now, Mr. Shimada, I did not go to six years of Med school to simply be a ‘Miss’,” She said with a small chortle. “I’ll let it slide this once, but I hope to be called Doctor in the future, alright?” Hanzo smiles a small bit before nodding and retracting his hand that now made its home in his jean pocket. “Of course, Doctor Ziegler. It won’t happen again,” he apologizes.

The Doctor looked over the expanse of the house, taking a few steps back on the porch to view it all, Hanzo even stepping out to see if she had found something he hadn’t. She looked over the cottage with a gentle fondness, as if happy that it was being inhabited now.

“You better thank Satya for getting this house ready for you, i haven’t seen her work that hard since the new residential street went up in town,” she said, her hands on her hips. Hanzo had remembered that the house was going to be cleaned up for his arrival, after all, this residence hadn’t been lived in since the early part of the decade. Ms. Vaswani was the one that had sent him the keys in the first place. And beside the lack of decorations and the use of minimal furniture, Hanzo can’t deny that it was all neat and comfy in it’s own way. He made a mental note to send a thank you note or walk in to personally thank her when he was settled.

Hanzo’s shoulders sank for a moment at the thought of unpacking even the few things he had brought with him. He looked back at the Jeep that held his belongings, and almost shuddered at having to drag all his belongings inside and sorting through them seemed somehow worse. Angela’s gaze joined Hanzo’s, examining the Jeep and knowing exactly what he was dreading. Her hand’s clapped together to knock them both out the shared gaze, before she started to make her way off the porch.

“Well, Mr. Shimada, as much as i’d love to stay and help, I should really get back to my clinic. Have to be there in case someone gets mauled by a bear or something,” she chuckled out in a charming excuse to get herself out of helping him unpack. Hanzo rolled his eyes at her jokes as she made her way back to her truck. Her hand already pulling the door open and her foot lifting her on the step. But over the hood she could peer a hint of red just past the tree line that connected to the dirt road, and the sound of a roaring engine echoed through the small patch of forest.

Hanzo had to take a few more steps off his porch, but never stepping onto the jagged ground without shoes, cautious to not get anything caught in the joints in his prosthetic. He stands on the balls of his feet to try and catch a glimpse of this mysterious vehicle that carried with it a monstrous roar. Angela’s hand waved at something that was just out of his site, and almost in an instant, a red blur flashed just past his driveway. His eyes were too slow to comprehend any detail about what had just passed them, but the noise didn’t dissipate. In fact, it seemed to be coming back, and from the way Angela’s head turned to see where it went as well as her hand still waving, it was all evident that he may get a chance to fully see what had just flashed by.

The roaring finally revealed itself, belonging to a bright cardinal red motorcycle that gleamed in the bright afternoon sun. It had a logo that had been jaded by time painted in white on the side of the tank, but from where he stood, Hanzo couldn’t make out exactly what it said. But the bike wasn’t alone. Atop it was a tall, built man with dark skin and an obnoxiously red serepe around his shoulders. As the bike shut down he swung his leg over the bike so that he may stand at full stature. This man was full cowboy, chaps, jeans, boots with a dusty hat placed atop his head with brunette, neck length hair that was wind swept and tangled with a wild beard to miss.

“Jesse, you aren't supposed to make U-turns on these roads,” Angela scolds while hopping off the step of her truck. She walks over to him with her hands on her hips, but gets repaid with a warm chuckle.

“Couldn't help myself, Doc. I just had to see who bought this little ol’ cabin,” this curious visitor said with a voice laced with the most stereotypical country drawl that Hanzo had ever heard.

Angela’s hand motioned towards the porch where Hanzo was standing, and Jesse’s gaze met his in an instant. Even from yards away, he could see that the cowboys eyes were a dark, charmingly warm brown that seemed to introduce Jesse for him. The spurs on the heels of his boots jingled as he waltz forwards to formally meet Hanzo face to face.

“Jesse McCree, nice to meet ya,” He said with an extended steel hand. Hanzo responded by shaking it in a firm grip similar to Angela’s before him.

“Hanzo Shimada. A pleasure,” the stoic man greeted. His eyes shifted to the bike once more, just for a glimpse before they joined back with Jesse’s. “I hope you are courteous when you go about riding that,” He says in a deadpan tone. As rude as it may have come off, the taller man’s smile turned to a smirk.

“No need to worry, I only ride it when I want to piss people off,” he retorted, his metallic forearm tipping the brim of his hat up just a tad. Hanzo’s arms crossed and his weight shifted to one leg, making his shorter than he already was, a small shit eating grin on his face. Jesse let out a low chuckle that came from deep in his chest before looking back at the bike.

“Don’t fret, I only ride during the day, if that’s what you’re worried about,” He answered sincerely. “Won’t ever have to worry about me wakin’ you up from your beauty sleep,” he teased with a small chuckle.

The small doctor stepped in for a moment, her hands on her hips, and giving a reassuring smile to Hanzo.

“Mr. Shimada, I can guarantee if you need anything, Jesse is always happy to help,” she said in an almost suggestive tone. Hanzo knew what she was doing, hoping to force McCree to help unpack as she make her escape. Jesse side eyed her with one of his bushy eyebrows raised before peeking into the barren house through the door that was left open behind Hanzo. Angela nudged McCree’s arm with her own before speaking once more. “I’m sure he’d be glad to help you settle in, if you need it,” she coyly said as she took slow steps back.

They watched her as she made a poor attempt of being subtle before Hanzo finally asked formally. “Jesse, would you mind helping me unpack?” Jesse took off his hat and bowed in an exaggerated fashion just for Angela to see.

“Hanzo, it would be my unforced and own willed pleasure,” He answered a tone of regality and boisterousness. The pair shared a laugh as Angela quickly returned to her truck and fly the coop before she was put to work. Jesse stood straight and placed his hat back over the mess of hair on his head and looked back at Hanzo. “Love Angela, great gal. But good lord does she hate heavy lifting,” Jesse gossips a bit with his thumbs looping in the belt loops of his pants.

Hanzo rushes in for a few short moments to grab his shoes before he joins the cowboy again, who’s serepe was folded over the leather seat of the motorcycle so that he may work without having to fiddle with it. Hanzo opens the door to the back seat so that they may get to removing the surprising amount of parcels and boxes that had made the trek with Hanzo all the way here. Jesse stacked some boxes high and began to carry them towards the abode while Hanzo carried a few bags. It took multiple trips before everything was placed in or near the living room ready to be reopened and assorted.

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo said appreciatively. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and fixed his hair from where it had fallen out of its tight ponytail. Jesse rested his hands on his hips as he overlooked their work. “You’re welcome, it’s what a neighbors for,” he reassured.

Hanzo turned his head back to look at the cowboy. “Neighbor?” he inquired.

“Well, sorta. Live quite a few miles down but yeah, neighbor,” McCree replied, his hand gesturing back towards the road and back from once he came almost an hour before. “I own the small ranch at the end of the road. You ever wanna come up, you’re more than welcome,” Jesse invited.

“I may once I’m comfortable,” Hanzo says, dreading the second half of this process. He lets a small groan of disdain leave his lips as he turns to Jesse to thank him one more time. Jesse tips his hat in a polite manner. “Godspeed, Hanzo Shimada. Godspeed,” he says as McCree finally takes his leave. Hanzo replaces his position in the door frame and waves the other off, the engine erupting to life once more and then following the dirt trail that he intended to travel earlier.

Hanzo closes the door once he could no longer see his neighbor or his incredibly loud coloured bike. His eyes dragged over the work that awaited him and he felt his muscles physically tense. He kicked off his shoes once more, walking towards a small room besides the staircase while taking off his shirt and pants.

Before he started, he desperately needed to do one thing he hadn’t done for far too many days.

Shower.

[nutslovesdolts]

Qrowin week day 3 (give it up for day three)

so yeah I wrote this now, it’s almost 2am and I gotta wake up early, who even reads this part anyways haha, enjoy

Scarf

It had been an hour since Tai and the entirety of team RWBY and… JNR(?) had left Winter and Qrows small festive home in the woods, the small cabin was built by the pair only 3 months previous. Winter had been completely turned off at the idea of any kind of shows of wealth or grandeur by her father, and Qrow never had much to begin with and liked this kind of small cozy nest like home.

2 years ago Winter had confessed to Qrow her true feelings, feelings that she was always taught to suppress through her life, but that was just it. When she was around Qrow she could let it all out, and she knew he could take it and wanted more.

Qrow had planned on confessing to her on that exact same day, and after a heated but regulated duel overseen by Ironwood who labeled it as a “training exercise” (both Qrow and Winter had spoken to him about their true intentions previously but unknown from one another)

The entire second floor was their bedroom completed by its own fireplace to match the one downstairs, a extremely re-enforced bed which its supports already showed signs of wear and tear, and a few end tables with lamps and the like, there was one closet where they both kept around 37 copies of the exact same every day clothing and about 3 extra clothing items for special occasions, with one dresser at the far end of the room next to the stairs.

The ground floor was wider and was made up of three rooms, the living room, which had chairs and a small couch surrounding the fireplace where a hearty fire was softly crackling, leftover wrapping paper from the guests earlier were glistening in the flickering light.

The other room was the small kitchen that smelled strongly of hazelnut and gingerbread

And of course a workroom filled with all sorts of odds and ends for the two to repair and tinker with their weapons.

Winter sat on the couch resting her head on Qrows shoulder, the firelight dancing on her face, she had never been happier in her entire life, right now she had no worries, no responsibilities, and could simply be at peace.

She snuggled closer to Qrow and let out a content hum

Qrow was more relaxed then he had thought humanly (or avianly) possible, It would almost be concerning for him if it weren't for the love of his life cuddling close by his side. He had always assumed because of his semblance that he would live alone somewhere, but as luck would have it, Winter didn’t mind a slip up here or there, as she put it It kept life interesting.

I wonder if she'll like it, he thought to himself. Winter wasn't exactly the easiest person to buy for, she hated anything overly extravagant or intricate except when it came to weapons. She also somehow knew exactly what to buy for Qrow, not once had she failed to deliver something he didn’t cherish to this day. For her, nothing in the world was good enough. That's why he decided not to simply buy anything, but to attempt to make it. He already knew how to sew as his cape managed to get torn to shreds every time a grimm got near him, not to mention back in the tribe it was how they kept themselves together, in just about every sense.

Winter stirred next to him, lifting her loving beautiful face so that they locked eyes

I never knew this was all I wanted Qrow, she sighed in peace. Just you and me, some peace and quiet, and all the time in the world just for us.

Qrow leaned in and gently pressed on her lips with his so they were eye to eye. Everything I ever dreamed about is currently two inches from my face and aaalllll mine, I agree, this is the life he said with his playful smirk.

That look was something that drove Winter wild, after their duel at Atlas when she confessed to him her feelings, he had used that same look before laughing, but not a cold cruel laugh like she was expecting at the time, but a warm loving laugh that told her everything she needed to know.

She leaned in and kissed him gently, slowly getting more aggressive with each passing second.

Qrow pulled back gasping for air, dang Ice Queen, your gonna suck the life outa me before the fun begins haha

Winter Blushed a deep scarlet red and pulled back off of him, You know I can't help it she giggled, Oh! Qrow I almost forgot. She said reaching behind the couch, Please open mine first, og but open the small one first! She said obviously trying to hide her excitement

Two of em Ice Queen? Must be a pretty special occasi… Qrow had been gingerly unwrapping the smaller gift to find a stuffed crow wearing a small cable knit sweater with a snowflake on it.

Qrow just stared at it for a moment taking in the idea of wearing this around the kingdoms when in bird form… yeah maybe around the house for Winters sake, but no one else could know

Qrow sighed and quickly turned into bird form noseing his way into the snugly fitting sweater

Winter covered her mouth with both hands to keep her explosion of laughter contained, she went red faced from the pressure and burst out in the most beautiful laughter Qrow had ever heard.

As he turned back to human form she gave Winter a playful sideways look, Only for you Ice Queen hehe, only for you

Winter finally gasped for air from her laughter and threw her arms around Qrow, I knew you’d look cute in it haha, she stated triumphantly, OOO now open the other one she said practically jumping up and down in her seat.

Qrow started unwrapping the small box carefully. He hadn't seen her that happy since they finished the house hehe

Under the paper the box was black with a red bow, as Qrow moved the bow out of the way and opened the box, he found a single bronze gear at the bottom, Last month in a battle with an extremely oversized Grimm that looked like a nevermore but with bladed wings, Qrow’s Scythe Harbinger had taken a hard blow shattering one near irreplaceable gear (the craftsman who had made the gears had died during a horrible grimm attack on his remote village, no other craftsman had yet been able to replicate this delicate piece) vital to its transformation, just his luck eh? Qrow would have been utterly emotionally defeated if it weren't for Winter,he spent a vast majority of his time searching for a replacement but found he was now stuck with only one form, at least until after the holidays.

For the first time in a long time Qrow felt his eyes water up a little bit. Winter noticed this and wiped them away and looked him dead in the eyes. Now you better not have gotten rusty over this last month, she cooed, We can’t have a under practiced bird prot… OOF… before she could finish Qrow had rushed in and given her a long deep kiss.

How did you even, he started but was cut off by Winter placing a finger to his lips, It’s my secret, she said with a devilish smirk, and you'll have to try MUCH harder to get that out of me tonight, she said in a slow seductive tone.

Qrow felt his mouth water a bit at the thought but quickly brushed away the thought as he reached behind the couch and pulled out his seamingly meger gift for her, he knew it would pale in comparison to the lengths she had gone to, but he hoped with all his heart she would at least like it.

Winter slowly examined the long flat rectangular box, it almost seemed weightless.

Qrow watched nervously as she started pulling the lid off the box, her eyes widened as she looked inside.

Winter pulled out a long obviously handsewed Light and dark blue scarf with snowflake inlays almost identical to her glyphs, at the center of each glyph was a small image of a black crow, inlaid in the background of the scarf were beautiful depictions of small villages and at the opposite end of the scarf was a picture of the arena where she had confessed to him, At the center was a note.

You are all I am, my beautiful snowflake

The other side of the scarf was bland and seemed to fit the military dress code matching her uniform, It was carefully tailored to blend in with her Jacket without detracting from the uniformity of the military

Winter felt a large mass of tears well up in her eyes before she started full on crying, all manner of grace and order lost

Qrow gave her a huge hug, regret building up in his chest, He knew it was too much, he knew it would remind her of her childhood, all this dark thoughts building up in his mind caused him to start to shake, until winter placed her hands on his cheeks and looked at him through teary eyes,

Did you make this? She asked through tears

Yeah… Qrow said roughly, he couldn’t meet her eyes

Winter pulled him into a passionate kiss completely upending Qrow causing them to both fall over into the couch.

Qrow, Winter said, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…. When did you learn to.. She was stopped by Qrow with that same playful look in his eye, all negative feelings gone in a flash, he placed one finger on her lips and seductively said, Well I guess you’ll have to try MUCH harder to get that out of me Ice Quee...nn… he trailed off, he was met with the most longing and starving look Winter eyes had ever betrayed, like a cat about to pounce

He was instantly tackled tackled by Winter

It would be a great night after all

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

OOF IT’S 1:45 NOW AND I HAVE TO WAKE UP EARLY

Hope you all enjoy, I just keep writing so I guess we'll see if it lets me post it all

This is my third ever fic, Just figured Id write it now just in case I lose motivation again

HAPPY QROWIN WEEK

[kilojulietsierra]

Better The Devil You Know - Chapter Three (Ulysses Klaue/OC)

Read Chapter One Here - Read Chapter Two Here

Chapter Three - July 17, 2014 Outside Manguzi, South Africa

“Who was that boss?”

Ulysses Klaue smiled like the madman he was, ”An old girlfriend.” Still with the smile plastered on his face he turned back to the two men on their knees. “Yes, she wants to get together tomorrow, when she gets into town. Which is good news for you two.” He pointed his own pistol at the men who each had AK-47s pointed at the backs of their heads.

The terrified pair shared a truly lost look, faces sweaty and hands still bound behind their backs.

“Yes! I’m in a very much better mood now and so, I will let you go. This one time with a warning.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“He questions me? I spare your life and you question me? Yes really, go now, get in your car and leave!” He waves to the mercenaries behind them, “Cut them loose, let them go.”

After a moments pause the two, previously doomed, men scrambled to their feet and fled to their car parked across the dirt lot. The car spun its tires and threw gravel as they sped away.

Klaue gave the order to his men to load up and as they headed back to their own vehicles Ulysses holstered his weapon and pulled out a small transmitter, the button of which detonated the fleeing vehicle, killing its two occupants in a fiery explosion. He could not keep the smile off his face if he tried, “I am having such a great day! Let’s go!”

~~~~~~~

July 18, 2014 Johannesburg, South Africa

It was early when the town car arrived for him, before seven. His eyes were still blurry from lack of sleep but Marcel could not help but stare, wide eyed, at the mansions they passed on their way to meet this Miss Thorne. Nearly half an hour later the driver pulled up to a large estate with a gated entrance and the knots started to form in his stomach.

He had assumed Miss Thorne had money, anyone that made a living in the oil business generally lived a social class or two above himself, but her property seemed like something out of a Hollywood movie.

The gate was set off the road, in a white stone wall that blocked the view of the estate from passers by. What the wall didn’t conceal the vast and varying trees and gardens did. The car drove down a long, paved driveway and up to the front door of the first, real mansion he had ever seen up close. The driver opened his door for him and he was immediately greeted by a young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen years old.

She was bright and cheery with a slim face and a close cropped sort of hair cut. She bobbed her head once, “Good morning Mr. Eler. Missy Savannah asks you wait on the veranda. This way.” She smiled and nodded several more times before leading him through the front door.

The first thing he saw upon entering the house was the very large and stoic man that held the door open for them. The second was a baby grand piano set on a zebra skin rug with a wall of windows as a backdrop. He didn’t have time to look around much, though he tried. The walls were covered in paintings and tapestries, with hides and trophy mounts scattered among them.  The aroma of incense and oils filled his nose as the house girl shuttled him through the foyer, past a formal dining room, then the casual dining area off the kitchen where the incense were overpowered by a dark and bitter smelling coffee, then a large sitting room furnished in grays, whites and jewel tones, all before finally coming to an outdoor dining area.

When the girl pulled out a chair for him he had to force his eyes away from the expansive backyard. Surrounded on three sides by more trees and gardens of flowers and vegetables. Grassy, amphitheater steps to his left led to a lower part of the yard, which held a narrow lap pool with precisely placed fountains all along the waters edge to create a mesmerizing pattern in the ripples on the pools surface. He barely got out a, “Thank you.” before the girl had disappeared back into the house. So engrossed he had become in taking in the immaculate landscaping and architecture of the home, he nearly jumped when another woman came to the patio with a tray.

“Coffee and sweet tea.” This woman was older, her skin dark and her hair a seemingly impossible nest of braids. “Which would you like?”

“Oh, uh coffee is fine. Thank you.” He smiled graciously as he accepted the cup and nearly choked at the bitterness of his first sip.

The woman laughed and set two small jars on the table in front of him, “Sugar. Cream.” She pointed to each one in turn and then picked up her tray to leave.

Marcel took a spoonful of sugar and then a second. He tried another sip and still made a face.

“Sorry, I take it a little strong. Even by local standards.”

He jumped to his feet at the sound of another woman behind him, this one with a heavy southern accent.  Marcel turned, coffee cup still in hand, to find a beautiful, young woman chuckling at him and taking a cup of coffee for herself.  

She said something to the woman, in a language Marcus didn’t understand, with a smile and a wink before she turned to face him. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Savannah Thorne.” She stepped forward and extended a hand, “Thank you so much for coming, I know it was… inconvenient.”

“No, no.” He set his coffee cup down and shook her hand in both of his. “I’m thrilled at the opportunity, really, truly I am. No, inconvenience at all. Honestly, it’s worth it enough just to see this.” He released her hand to gesture to the estate.”You have a remarkable home, Miss Thorne.”

Miss Thorne rewarded him with a brilliant smile, “Happy to hear it, and thank you. I am quite proud of it myself.” She took a sip of the coffee and hummed in appreciation. “It belonged to my mothers family, but I’ve added and updated here and there. If you’d like we could walk and discuss our business rather than sit? They’re working some of the polo ponies down by the barn, if you’d like to see.”

Why he was surprised there was a stable he didn’t know, but he nodded. “Sounds like a great idea.”

“Perfect.” She stepped back into the wide open sitting room and called into the kitchen, “Isisa!” She said something else in the language and then waved as she joined him back on the patio. “Come on, let’s talk about these great ideas of yours that I’ve heard so much about.”

~~~~~~~

Klaue glanced around him as he and his men exited their two vehicles. Before they could knock, the heavy wooden door swung open to reveal a tall, heavyset fellow that seemed to be a part of Savannahs security team. He said nothing, only led them into the foyer and to the sitting room immediately to their right. Here another guard stood with his back to the patio doors, “You will wait here.”

The guard that had opened the door left them to make themselves comfortable. The cook brought in a tray of the southern style sweet tea Savannah was so fond of and the men helped themselves. Ulysses pulled his sunglasses off to hang in the front of his shirt and wandered the sitting room looking at the decor, poking and prodding pieces as he went. He stopped in a front of a Cape Buffalo trophy mounted to the wall, “Oh, I remember this one.”

He only had to wait a few more minutes before the guard returned. “You come. The rest of you stay.” The guard jerked his head down the hall as a signal for klaue to follow.

They passed through the relatively empty house and out to the back patio. His eyes had been focused on picking out guards from regular staff and locating security cameras. Which is why he missed a beat when he first saw her walking towards them. He only wasted five seconds determining the man walking with her was not a threat in any way and then focused all his attention on Annah.

Her hair was lighter, sun bleached, not dyed. She had it french braided back into a high ponytail that bounced and swayed as she walked. Her clothes were simple; a plain white tank top that fit her perfectly and a bright, printed skirt that just barely brushed the ground with each stride. The morning sun glinted off the necklaces that bounced against her chest as well as the rings on her fingers and her toes.

Ulysses couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sight of her strolling her estate barefoot and adorned like some sort of gypsy goddess.

When she noticed him she did not smile. Instead she placed a hand on her walking companions shoulder and seemed to tell him to wait there. Savannah through a sideways glance towards Klaue as she ducked into the house only to return quickly with one of the young house girls. The girl took the man into the house and then Savannah approached them, “Pat him down.”

Klaue chuckled as he spread his arms out wide and stood still to be searched.

The guard pulled the pistol from his back and held it up for her to see, “That’s it.”

Savannah nodded, but before she could speak Ulysses took the opportunity, “I’d just like to point out that the last time you and I were together you were the one that pulled a gun on me.”

She scowled and sarcastically hiked her skirt up high. High enough to show the spandex shorts she wore underneath. No thigh holster. Then she dropped the hem back to the ground before she lifted the bottom of her shirt and turned a circle to show she had nothing in her waistband. “Feel better?”

“Much.” Ulysses grinned as he watched the guard walk off with his handgun and leave the two of them alone in the backyard.

For a moment they simply stared, sized each other up after a few years of absence. “Rollin’ a little deep for a meeting with an old friend?” She gestured to the lower yard and started in that direction.

He assumed to avoid the ears of her saff and both of the security as much as possible. “Like I said, last time…” He let the rest of the sentence fall off as they started down the grass covered steps. “So what’s the matter? Can’t find anyone that can satisfy you needs like I can?” Klaue smiled and stopped three steps from the bottom, forcing her to look up at him.

It only worked for a second as she turned and continued down the stairs. She shook the bead bracelets on her left wrist back into place, “Sure, let's go with that.” Savannah spared him a second glance before moving to sit in one of the adirondack chairs beside the pool.

The smile on his face grew the second he saw that familiar tell, an unconscious fidget, barely a tick, but it told him plenty. After he joined her by the pool he slouched back in his own chair and crossed his outstretched legs at the ankles. “Tell me what you need Love.”

It seemed to be physically painful for her but she looked his way and started right into the business at hand, “A dozen cases of M4s, four Barrett 50 cals, all with thermal scopes, a case of SAWs…”She trailed off, took a breath before she continued, “Two dozen extra men, body armor, NVD goggles and sights. Ammo for everything, of course, and I want a Predator. Fully loaded.”

What started as a cheeky smile nearly doubled in size as Ulysses sat up a little straighter in his chair, elbows braced on his knees. “Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.” He shifted his seat slightly to face her better, “But, here’s what I am wondering. Any arms dealer can get you this stuff. Why call me? Not that i’m not happy you did!”

Savannah sat on the edge of her chair, knees crossed, the bridge of her nose pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “There’s one more thing I need.”

His interest peaked Klaue ducked his head, trying to catch her gaze, “Yes?”

After another deep breath she released the pressure point on her nose and faced him, “Vibranium… and someone that knows how to work with it.”

~~~~~~~

Savannah regretted everything as soon as she saw that stupid look on his face. This was a huge mistake, but it was her only choice and far too late to back out now. “Go ahead, hit me with it. What’s this gonna cost me?”

He would not quit smiling and he began rubbing his palms together. He didn’t answer right away, seemed to enjoy her dread and discomfort. “The guns,  I have on hand, the men and the gear, I’ll give you for.. Ten percent off street value.” He ignored the shock that crossed her face and continued, “The drone will take some time and it’ll be pricey but I can get it.”

“And the vibranium?” Her eyes were dark and skeptical as she squinted at him, trying to get a read on what game he was playing.

It only made him smile more, “A favor for a favor.”

That had her up and out of her chair, “Oh no, not a chance in hell. Name a price, give me a number and I’ll send you home with it in cash. But, no favors.”

Klaue stayed seated, “No favor? No vibranium. Which is worse? Losing half of your oil wells or doing a favor for, like you said, an old friend.”

Savannah started to pace, her teeth gritted together and she began to regret her poor choice of words earlier. Fuck him and that look on his face. She ignored how he knew the specifics of her predicament and focused on why it pleased him so much. “What’s the favor?”

He stood up, “Do we have a deal?” He took a step towards her, smiled when she stood taller rather than retreat even an inch, extended his hand to shake.

She ignored his hand, choosing instead to stare him down eye to eye, “What’s the favor?”

With a chuckle he let his hand drop but he kept a hold of her gaze. “I have a potential… associate, in town this weekend. He’s skittish, I need help to warm him up and calm his nerves. Something you used to be very good at.”

When he winked Savannah fought the urge to shove him in the pool and hold his head under. But, as loathe as she was to admit it, she needed him and his stupid vibranium. “I want my guns and my men on a plane to Libya by Friday. Drone included.” She was not going to cave in so easy.

Not that that mattered. He had already won and they both knew it. His face said as much. He held his hand out again, closer to her this time, “Deal.”

“Lord give me strength.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, Harder than necessary, the way her Daddy had taught her. “Deal.”

Ulysses kept her hand and raised it to his lips so he could drop a kiss on her knuckles, “Beautiful.” When she scowled and jerked her hand away he could only laugh.

~~~~~~

Read Chapter Four Here

[airanke]

FIESCHADA

“A strong, instantaneous attraction to someone upon first meeting each other; ‘love at first sight’.”

And the second story. I hope things aren’t too confusing, but I’m... doing my best. I had to alter the way I did the chapter texts AGAIN because... well, this chapter’s title was too long to translate nicely. I’ll be doing them like this from now on.

I might post it on FF.net and A03 as well, but I’m... tentative about that. We’ll see!

This chapter includes mentions of both @druidickats​‘ characters , and a rather hefty cameo by @tricksterthief‘s Luxanai! Hope you guys enjoy it.

CHAPTER 2 But I haven’t met you yet

Her first year alone passed rather quickly. With Jashik at her side, Drepani quickly learned the ins and outs of how to fend for herself - and of course, she kept her raptor pendant close. Sometimes, she questioned the intentions of the Loa Gonk, but from what her mother had told her… the Loa were selective in their benevolence.

Since I be interesting to Gonk, Gonk be offering me his guidance, Drepani frowned, brushing hair out of her face. She needed to cut it somehow. It was all dry and gross at the ends, and she hated touching it. Maybe she could use her dagger?

Drepani huffed. Of course she could use her dagger.

The cuts were haphazard, and left her hair more unruly and uneven than ever before. She tossed the hairs to the birds; they could use it for their nests, at least. She spent the next ten minutes clawing through the various tangles and knots that was scattered throughout her hair. Jashik tried to help - but all he really succeeded in doing was making her hair more of a mess with all the feathers he tried to stick into the thick locks.

Drepani sighed, affectionately running her nails along Jashik’s snout, “okay, okay… I guess I be havin’ no choice bu’ to let it be, eh?”

Jashik churred.

The young girl made her way back into her cave, hands brushing over the various bags her mother had made before disappearing. She selected a woven one - the best kind for carrying crabs and shells and rocks and fish, if she happened to catch any.

Having selected her pack, she grabbed a spear she’d made - about as haphazard as her hair, decorated with the same paints that she used to decorate Jashik’s hide - and without a word she scrambled onto Jashik’s back. The raptor took off the second she was situated, leaving her to grasp the ropes that hung loose around his neck.

Nearly an hour passed once she reached the beach. Her bag was full of oysters, clams, a couple of fish, various shells, and a lively crab that kept trying to pinch her whenever she got too close. She wrinkled her nose at it, tapping its pinchers with her dagger.

Then, she turned her suspicious gaze to the wellmade crate that had been left under an outcropping of rocks she always hid the shells she found before she was ready to go.

There was a piece of folded parchment on it too. When she had arrived at the beach, it hadn’t been there, but when she had come prancing back over to the overhang the outcropping formed, she discovered the crate.

Now that she was ready to go back home, she gazed at it. Tilted her head to the left and the right; squinted her eyes - then she exhaled.

“Jashik… can you be goin’ to smell it?”

The raptor chortled, and she blushed, pouting, “don’t you be laughin’ at me!! Muuka always taught me to be cautious…”

Jashik made no complaints after that. He managed to hunker down enough to get his nose close enough to the crate.

The next thing Drepani knew, he was yanking the crate out from under the rock, making various sounds of what Drepani could only interpret as excitement.

“Jashik! Hey!” she had to laugh a little, as the raptor had clawed the folded parchment delicately out from under the ropes that held the wooden lid on. He was flailing it in her face moments later.

“Okay okay! I be gettin’ it. What you be so excited about anyway…?” she muttered, carefully unfolding the parchment.

‘Dearest Drepani--’

She clapped the pages together after reading the first word. Her heart was pounding. Jashik was poking his nose around the crate, oblivious to the turmoil that Drepani suddenly found herself in.

Heart still pounding, she slowly opened the letter again - then abruptly clapped it shut. She couldn’t let herself forget that the beach was not a safe place for her to get distracted by a letter.

She did her best to attach the crate to Jashik’s side after deducing that the items inside were of the non-breakable variety. Once it was secure enough, Drepani crawled onto Jashik’s back. The letter was clutched close to her chest the whole ride back to the cave.

And even when she was back safely at her cave, Drepani put her focus on making sure her catches for the day were properly prepared.

Work first, play later, she chanted to herself. It was what Alba’vida had drilled into her, after all.

The sun was just beginning to kiss the horizon when she finally sat down with the crate and the letter. Her eyes danced with excitement as she peeled it open.

She read the opening phrase again:

Dearest Drepani,

That it was someone who knew her, set Drepani’s heart racing - and in it’s wake left an empty ache. She continued to read despite the way her hands began to shake:

You were not to know me. I was not to know you - and while I am hard-pressed to ignore your mother’s wishes, I can’t stand to know that you are alone. How long have you been by yourself, I wonder, with no one but the ever faithful Jashik at your side? I wish I could come stay with you - but I will spare you my excuses. They are weak and feeble much like my resolve.

Drepani didn’t fully understand everything she read, but she could grasp at interpretations. This person knew her mother, but specifically said ‘your mother’.

The young troll looked up at Jashik - who had laid down across from her - with hope in her big eyes, “chaako?”

Jashik was of no help. He merely snorted, lying his head on the ground. Drepani pouted at him, and quickly resumed her reading:

Loa I wish I knew how big you were. I’ve hardly been allowed to see you. I’ve only caught glimpses here and there, but you have hair like the sea--

The ink was smudged where “like the sea” was written, and Drepani squinted. She raised the page, looking at it from every which angle, trying to decipher what had been written before. Jashik chortled at her, and she groaned, “you be no help, you big lizard!!”

Jashik merely chortled again, kicking one of his hind legs.

-- and your skin is minty, much like your mother’s. I wonder if your eyes are still as green as they were the first time I held you. There are some things for you in the crate. You are ever growing, and I did my best to place clothes in the crate that I think you might like.

But I don’t know you, and you don’t me. I hope this letter is enough.

Drepani had dropped the letter on the ground before she even finished reading the last sentence. Her fingers clawed at the crate, and after breaking one nail, she reached for her dagger. She pried off the top.

There was more than some articles of clothing inside.

A few wrapped goodies, which were sweet when Drepani stuck one in her mouth, and Jashik attempted to take the whole bag from her. He relented when she tossed him a couple after squealing at him to stop. There was more jewellery - mostly earrings, of course, so Drepani assumed that at some point, her mother had let it slip that the young girl had gotten her ears pierced. A couple of wooden, beautiful painted bangles.

Drepani slipped one on, and pouted when it nearly slipped right back off. Too big for her small wrists, it seemed.

“Oh well,” she muttered, pushing the bangle up her arm till it rested snuggly around her bicep, “I can just be wearin’ it higher!”

The dress, too, was a little too big for her - but she supposed she could grow into it. She could use the many colorful belts and sashes that had been stuffed into the box to cinch it more tightly around her small frame.

Her eyes drifted back to the letter. It laid on the ground, crisp parchment with crisp writing.

Drepani’s mother had taught her how to write; had taught her how to grind the blackberries into a sort of pigment.

She walked into the cave, plucking one of the feathers from her hair. She rooted around the firewood pile for a loose piece of bark - it was the best she could do, after all, her mother had only ever taught her to write on bark and not on parchment, and there was no parchment just lying around either.

There was some mostly dried ink in a pot near her mother’s abandoned things. Drepani added some water to it.

Of course, it wound up being gooey and sticky, but the little girl made due with what she had. She chewed on her lower lip as she did her best to write a response - the end result was a mess of scribbles, multiple crossed out words, followed by an apology for her sloppy writing. She had never gotten a real chance to practice.

I wonder if he’ll be finding it if I be puttin’ it in the same spot, she frowned. The sun had already disappeared below the horizon, even if the rays continued to light up the sky.

Sleep seemed like the wiser choice.

Her next gift crate had proper inkwells, proper parchment, and proper feather pens. There were even pages upon pages of letters she could copy as practice. Full sentences too. She did her best to practice her writing alongside everything else she was trying to do to take care of herself.

This went on for several weeks. Every now and then she would get a new letter, most often praising her for the improvements in her writing. Sometimes he asked questions after answering the ones she’d left for him, but he always ignored her question on his name.

It frustrated her to no end.

So much so, that she took out her frustration by sneaking up on Jashik.

The large raptor had no love for these antics of hers.

“Uuugh!” Drepani writhed on the ground, flicking her tongue and tail in a tantrum, “you’re not gonna’ be hurtin’ me, Jashik! I gotta’ be practicin’ my sneakin’ somehow…”

Jashik clicked his tongue. Drepani shifted back into a troll, pouting at him, “well… okay, fine. I guess you still be havin’ those wild instincts, but it be better to be tryna’ sneak up on you than… than a tiger!”

The raptor stamped his feet, and Drepani sighed in exasperation, “well if you don’t be wantin’ that, then you gotta’ be lettin’ me practice on you!!”

With a huff, Jashik stalked into the cave. Drepani scrambled to her feet to follow him. He had opted to curl up in a far corner, looking over his back at her with slitted eyes.

“Ooooh!! Fine! You be that way then!!” Drepani exclaimed. Jashik huffed; she stomped over to her pile of pillows. She fiddled with the pendant around her neck.

It had been a while since her last dream of Gonk.

Maybe I should be tryin’ that thing that chaako wrote me about the other day, she wondered, grasping the pendant fully in one hand, or well… maybe I should call him teacher. I still don’t be knowin’ if he be my chaako for real…

She crossed her legs and draped her arms over her knees. From the times she had quietly observed the other trolls, she had noticed that a group of them would often sit like this, eyes closed. Her ‘teacher’ had referred to it as meditation.

Raucous laughter met her when she opened her eyes.

“Oh look at her! She can meditate now! Good, good,” Gonk grinned broadly at her, “I was wondering when you were going to figure it out, little one.”

Drepani pursed her lips. She appraised the Loa for a moment, then got to her feet, “well… here I be! Teach me somethin’!”

He grinned toothily at her, “she sure is demanding, isn’t she?”

The little girl’s face fell, “muuka be sayin’ that to me once…”

“Hm,” Gonk prodded Drepani with his nose, “you’ve certainly grown.”

“It don’t be like I was gonna’ stay a baby forever, silly Loa!” Drepani chirped, giggling when Gonk nudged her more roughly.

“Silly Loa! That’s a new one. Come, I want you to meet someone. The two of you have some things in common, and it took me some time to permeate his thoughts,” and the Loa’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Drepani recalled again that the Loa were fickle beings, and while often inclined to be benefactors, they were no strangers to malice.

Regardless, Drepani shifted into a cobra and followed Gonk to an entirely different looking forest. It was… so different. The trees were large and elegant, stretching toward the sky - and their leaves were full. They covered the sky completely.

Drepani wasn’t sure how much she liked it.

Gonk led her further through the brush until finally, several minutes later, they came to a clearing.

Immediately the cobra darted into a bush. There was someone else in the clearing, and Gonk’s boisterous laugh startled the other being as much as it startled Drepani.

“You mortals amuse me! That being said, Naralex,” and Drepani found herself being pulled out of the bushes by Gonk’s tail, “I have brought this small one. Teach her druidic magic.”

The man stared at her, “I�� what manner of creature is she? Is… is she a troll?”

Drepani shifted out of her cobra form and snapped, “is dat gonna’ be a problem!? Because you be lookin’ real funneh dere yaself, you weird, tuskless purple troll!”

Once again Gonk howled with laughter and this Naralex fellow stared at her with a gaping jaw. He turned his yellow eyes back to Gonk, “this is who you’ve been pestering me about? And how can she speak common so easily?”

“This is a dream,” Gonk purred, “and I am a Loa. Do you really think my power is not on par with the moon goddess? You would be wise not to question the capabilities of a wild god, elf.”

Drepani had no real clue what any of them were saying. Wasn’t she speaking the same language she always spoke?

“I don’ be knowin’ ‘bout you, bu’ I be knowin’ ‘bout me, an’ Gonk hasn’ been teachin’ me anyting fah a while!” she jabbed a finger at Naralex, “‘cuz he be tryna’ git you ta -- ta-- ta get along wit’ me!!”

Naralex appeared both miffed and intrigued, “I do believe the word you’re looking for is cooperate, little one.”

“Yeah dat!”

“Alright, well, if you come sit here… maybe I should teach you entangling roots first,” he tapped his chin as Drepani cautiously drew closer, “oh, by the way. I’m a night elf.”

“A night elf?” Drepani repeated, confused, “bu’ you be lookin’ like a troll… wit’ no tusks, an’ purple skin, an’ too many fingahs and toes.”

Naralex laughed, “I suppose you have a point there - then that makes you a night elf with green skin, tusks, and too few fingers and toes.”

Drepani pouted at him; he laughed. She supposed his temperament and his voice were kind enough.

“Come here, little one.”

“Drepani,” she corrected. Naralex smiled;

“Pleased to meet you, Drepani. I am Naralex, Druid of the Fang.”

Drepani slipped out of her meditation hours later to find a bowl of hot soup, another crate, and a long letter.

Another year had passed. Drepani added another tick to the cave wall that had been counting her years.

She was ten years old now - or perhaps more accurately, ten and a half. She sighed, sitting down on her mass of pillows and blankets with her various pieces of parchment paper. At her teacher and Naralex’s advice, she had started sketching the plant life and animals around her. Her drawings were… lackluster to say the least.

But she kept on trying.

Jashik was an all to willing subject, and regardless of how well or poorly Drepani thought she drew him, the raptor hoarded any and all drawings she made of him.

And slept on them, as raptors clearly do.

A smile crossed Drepani’s lips, “lately Naralex has been praisin’ me. Says I summon roots faster than most of the other druids he’s trained.”

She looked up at Jashik, “what do you be thinkin’ of that?”

The raptor chuffed, and Drepani sighed, “okay, okay. I’ll try not to be lettin’ it get to my head.”

Jashik settled down beside her. He did his best to discreetly look over her shoulder as she doodled, and jotted down notes beside her sketches.

During their practice sessions in what Naralex referred to as the Emerald Dream, the night elf had alluded to the fact that Drepani was not the first troll to ever find themself in the Emerald Dream. She seemed to be one of the first specifically led there by a Loa, but Naralex - being an elf, and living for a long, long time as a result - had seen the odd troll here and there.

But never once a child.

He had often nonchalantly spoken about different professions; things that could be taken up and used as a means to support oneself. Drepani wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but she assumed that it had to do with being able to cook and write and fight.

All things she could currently do, of course.

And when the man had mentioned herbalism…

Drepani had taken an immediate interest.

Naralex had started with bringing a peacebloom with him to the Dream: a little white flower with a yellow center. He explained to her that it had healing properties, and was often used by alchemists to create healing potions. Drepani had listened intently, completely enthralled by the very idea that there were plants scattered all over the world that could be used to help people.

He had also off-handedly mentioned that Gonk was still working on getting through to someone he referred to as shan’do, someone who could teach her more than Naralex himself could ever hope to.

And when asked what shan’do meant, Naralex had responded with “honored teacher”.

Naturally, the next time she saw Naralex, she referred to him by this title. Drepani had never believed that she could make a grown man blush so fiercely, but he thanked her profusely for honoring him in such a way before requesting that she stick to calling him simply ‘teacher’.

Sighing, Drepani got up from her nest. Jashik churred at her in question.

“I just be wantin’ to get away for a while. Maybe practice some spells. Naralex been teachin’ me lots and lots lately! Cuz I keep pesterin’ him about this herb and that herb and this plant and that plant,” she giggled, stroking her nails along Jashik’s forehead, “he keeps tellin’ me that me bein’ so curious be gettin’ him a lot of suspicious looks with how much he be goin’ in and out of the herbalism shops! I don’t really be knowin’ why he seems unwillin’ to tell his other elf friends about me though…”

Jashik chuffed, and Drepani shrugged, “it be what it be, I be guessin’. Maybe it be because I still be so young. Anywho! I be off! If I need you, I’ll be screamin’.”

She took off into the jungles before Jashik could further protest. The sun was high in the sky, and weaving through the foliage unnoticed was a simple task for her.

It wasn’t until she reached the roots near the beach that anything of interest happened.

First, there were the murlocs. Drepani hadn’t noticed them initially, but yelling and screaming caught her attention.

She was startled by what she saw.

The murlocs were dragging troll children down the beach!

Drepani watched as the red-haired boy she kept finding herself drawn to nearly got away from the murlocs. When one tackled him, he put of a ferocious fight, punching and kicking and snarling. One of the bigger murlocs picked him up and threw him hard against a tree. His heavy drop to the sand was enough to make one of the bigger girls fight viciously - and it was a bad course of action for the murlocs themselves, as the children had all screamed.

The bigger girl soon went limp after she was struck on the back of the neck by the wooden part of a spear. A girl who looked similar to her cried out sharply - then she silenced herself with a hand when the murlocs turned on her, making various angry sounds.

Wait. Wait, wait! That be the hunter who be tryna’ catch me before!

Hurriedly, Drepani started sizing up the situation. She coiled in the bushes, tongue flicking, eyes calculating.

The murlocs were starting to move more quickly, and Drepani slithered through the bushes to follow them. There was a green haired girl that kept on trying to use magic, but the murlocs never remained still long enough for her to get a spell off. The white-haired boy wouldn’t stop screaming, and ultimately, the murlocs knocked him out too.

The last child that put up any sort of struggle had hair like fire, and briefly Drepani thought of her mother - until she too, was knocked out, and the murlocs continued on their way.

Drepani was resolved to help them.

She bolted out of her hiding place, mouth wide, spitting hisses. She lashed her tail over the head of one that had no child in its arms. It ran off, screeching in fear. Drepani threw herself into the middle of them, rearing up, knowing that they were afraid of her because she would remind them of the naga.

As she expected, a good four of them bolted off in terror at her presence - but one, the one with the spear, faced her. It released a gurgling battlecry and charged. Drepani dropped her belly to the ground and lunged, slamming her head into its gut.

The second it was on its back she sunk her fangs into its throat and thrashed.

Several of the kids who were still conscious got up and raced back the way they had been taken from, yelling that they would get adults. Only the crying little girl stayed behind to try and drag the unconscious hunter to safety.

Drepani raised her head. Blood covered her face, and she whipped her head in the direction the murlocs had run, tongue flicking. They still had some children with them. She was about to go after them when she saw him.

The red haired boy had been dropped.

Quickly, she slithered over to him. She carefully wrapped her mouth around his arm and started pulling. Perhaps she had practiced slithering backwards specifically for this moment, but it was still a tremendous task. She dropped his arm several times for fear of causing him any harm.

Just as she was beginning to get the hang of it, she heard him mutter, “nnn… Zal…”

Drepani froze, and his molten eyes fluttered open to look at her, “Zal… m’friend, he… he be the one with the braid…?”

The red haired boy’s arm dropped out of Drepani’s mouth. She stared as if she were in a trance. He gazed at her blearily, his expression overcome by intrigue. It was understandable that he was unable to process what exactly was happening, given his state.

Then he reached up to caress her face.

Somewhere, she heard a clap of thunder. It was loud, and it scared her, and she bolted down the beach in the direction the murlocs had run.

Children like her were still stuck in their grasp, after all.

It was mysterious even to her, when she felt as though Gonk were running alongside her - and something about her own form changed. Drepani had legs again, but they were thicker, and heavier, as if she had grown muscle. The trees were moving past her at an almost blinding speed.

Up ahead, the murlocs appeared to be in an argument. They gestured wildly at each other, while several children attempted to crawl discreetly away, or grabbed at their unconscious friends.

Drepani’s eyes honed in on the boy with the white hair - Zal, as he had been called.

She released an ear-splitting screech and leapt at a murloc. Briefly, Drepani caught sight of her feet.

They looked like Jashik’s.

Startled, she found herself smacking into the murloc’s face with no arms or legs. She battered the frog-like creature with open-mouthed strikes, letting her rows of teeth scour deep lines in its head.

Her screech, at least, had dispersed the murlocs - along with the other kids, who ran in the direction Drepani had come from.

Before the murlocs could regroup, Drepani gave chase to several, snapping at their ankles. By the time her excitement started to die, the murlocs were running away from her, and away from the direction the kids had gone.

Good. Now for Zal.

The boy was lying face down in the sand. Unlike his red haired friend, he was wearing a shirt. Drepani grasped the back of Zal’s collar in her jaw, raised him as high off the ground as she could, and began to slither toward the fleeing children.

Her vision swam after hardly three seconds, and soon she found herself gasping for breath on the sand.

“Get up, Drepani, get up.”

She struggled to her feet. Her legs and arms felt like jello, but she pulled at Zal anyway. He groaned in pain as he started to come to.

Then she heard the voices.

Scared, she dropped Zal again, noticing that his eyes were barely open as he peered at her. Drepani’s fright only grew.

As much as she told herself, time and time again, that she wanted to be with the other trolls, she found herself too afraid of the prospect.

Before she could escape to the safety of the jungle, her arm was grasped in a much larger hand. Someone, somehow, had appeared behind her.

“Ey waitaminute now, where you be thinking you goin’?”

Drepani was jerked around to face the man that held her - and her eyes widened upon noticing that he wasn’t exactly a man, but certainly not a boy. His eyes were widened as well.

“Holy Loa she be havin’ blood all over her face!”

Instead of attempting to make any explanation, Drepani struggled in his grip; he was unperturbed, “stop your fussin’.”

“Juh-JASHIK!” Drepani shrieked, clawing at his hand. She tried to shift into a cobra again to escape, but all her body did was shimmer weakly.

Jashik came barreling out of the jungle. He skid to a halt right before he could have collided with the older boy. Jashik snapped his jaws in the boy’s face - but again, to Drepani’s dismay, he was unperturbed.

“Oi, now you both just bein’ all sorts of unreasonable,” he chided, reaching toward Jashik. The black raptor screeched, nearly bit off the boy’s hand, and bolted back to the jungle. He began to bite and tear and rip and slash at the trees, making various vocalizations to further emphasize his distress.

Drepani had given up trying to get the older boy to let her go. She sat on the sand instead, gasping for breath, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Kunan’ji!”

“What now, Kuzari?” he sounded annoyed.

“You better be letting her go!” an older girl snapped. Several children had gathered around her legs, and a tiger stalked not too far behind, clearly her pet, “the raptor be in real obvious distress. Let her go.”

Kunan’ji pouted, “but--”

“Let her go, Kunan’ji.”

The two stared each other down, while Jashik continued to make a mess of the trees around him. He started stamping his feet, and looking at the other children as if implying he would attack them if Drepani was not released soon.

Kunan’ji sighed.

The moment he released Drepani, she lurched to her feet. She stumbled all her way to Jashik. He lowered his head for her to grab and raised her in the air, turning his head back as far as he could to get her onto his back.

Seconds before he took off, Drepani looked back at the trolls.

Most looked confused. She was one of them, after all, why would she want to leave?

She was unprepared for seeing the look of desperation on the red haired boy’s face.

“Wait--!”

But Jashik had already sprinted away.

The raptor’s path was far more erratic than usual. Drepani thought nothing of it, and clung to him. Why, why did she not want to stay? Why was she so scared to be with the other trolls. Against her chest, her raptor pendant was cold.

Because you don’t be wanting to lose them like you be losing muuka.

Drepani choked on a breath, refusing to let herself cry over it.

Because you don’t be wanting to be left behind again.

Yet another breath was choked on in her efforts to fend off the tears. It had been a while since she’d cried over it. Drepani only calmed when she looked up from Jashik’s neck and saw the familiar sight of the cave. She slid off his back, and barely touched the ground when the raptor sped off again.

She stared, brows furrowed. He’d taken an erratic enough path, did he really need to go back and muss up his path even more?

The seconds dragged on with Drepani opting to simply sit and regain her strength. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes…

Gave way to an uncanny stare on her back.

She was not alone.

Terrified, she shakily got up from her seat. The feeling of someone drawing closer beared down on her shoulders. If she could get to the cave and hide, she would be safe. She would be safe.

She bolted for the cave - but her body was too tired. She’d spent all her strength trying to help the other trolls, and she fell down before she could even make it three steps. Drepani tried to pull herself to the cave, but found herself swept up into warm arms instead.

Part of her thought she would see the face of whoever now held her, but there was a pinch at the back of her neck.

All she remembered hearing was, “Amita, Amita, you be safe. It be okay. Please rest.”

Two weeks had passed since the incident. She’d woken from the ordeal feeling refreshed, and kept her distance from the village for a while.

She’d found another letter, of course, filled mostly with praise toward her actions.

And she remembered being called “Amita”.

Something about this name resonated more with her than Drepani did. Maybe it was because being called Drepani made her think of her mother. Maybe it was because she thought if she left behind the name Drepani, she could leave behind her old mistakes and start fresh with Amita.

Or maybe it was because the person who had called her Amita had a distinctly masculine voice.

Perhaps, if she ever gained the courage to be with the other trolls, she could use her new name as a means to find her father.

“Your father?”

Naralex, of course, questioned her decision. Amita fiddled with the grass on the forest floor. In this session, she and her teacher were simply discussing. Naralex still had not told her why they weren’t practicing any spells.

“It don’ be like I’m givin’ up my old name…” she muttered, looking off at some nearby flowers, “bu’... if de one who be callin’ me Amita be my chaako, den, if I be callin’ m’self Amita, don’ dat mean I could be findin’ him fastah?”

“That will only work if you actually join the other trolls, Amita,” and a laugh escaped him when she gave him the best pout she could manage, “come now child. You know I jest.”

“Jest?”

“Tease,” he explained, one of his long ears flicking, “you know, I was looking into the history of my people recently. Somewhere down the line, we had forgotten that we were trolls once! I find that quite fascinating.”

Amita propped herself up on her arms, curious, “den why don’ dere be more trolls in de whole druid aspect o’ tings?”

Naralex hummed in thought, “well, I was wondering about that myself. Perhaps it has to do with how much more superstitious you are? Not that that’s a bad thing, of course! But, we night elves only worship Elune, the Goddess of the Moon. To my understanding - which is quite lacking, mind you - trolls have far many more beings that they worship.”

He nodded in the direction of Gonk when the raptor emerged, practically out of thin air, “Gonk, for example, is one of many Loa. Here, I’ll teach you some new words.”

“Okay,” Amita inched closer to him, ears perked up in interest. Naralex wrote on the ground with magic.

“Night elves, you could say, are monotheistic. That’s the belief in one, singular god,” he underlined the word, and Amita mouthed the letters to herself so she would remember how to spell it. Next to it, he began to write another word, “trolls, on the other hand, are polytheistic. That is the belief in multiple gods,” he smiled at Amita when he raised his head from the words, “neither of these beliefs are wrong, in my opinion! And then again, I’m not sure how being monotheist or polytheist plays into there being a lack of troll druids.”

“Loa are selfish,” Gonk chimed in, “we don’t like to share~ Technically, I’ve claimed this little one as mine, and mine alone - though, I will admit, I’m more willing to share the worship than most of the other Loa are.”

Naralex chuckled, and his ear flicked again. Amita wondered why, and quietly he asked, “is he coming?”

“Yes. It took me a few years, but I’ve succeeded.”

Amita sat upright. Nervousness washed over her when Naralex fluidly got to his feet.

And then, he bowed.

“Shan’do.”

Jashik stared at Amita. She stared at him.

She’d fallen over while she was meditating, and now her back ached from hitting the stone floor.

“... Jashik. You won’t be believing who I be meeting.”

He churred at her in concern.

“His name be Malfurion Stormrage. Oh Jashik!!!” she rolled over and scrambled to her feet, hugging the raptor’s face, “he be teachin’ me so many things!! I gotta’ practice! He be wantin’ to see me again, next week!!”

She danced in place, overcome by excitement. Jashik stamped his feet as well, his vocalizations betraying his own excitement.

Amita eventually took several breaths to calm down.

“He be wantin’ me to practice my stealth, most of all,” she informed the raptor. Jashik straightened. Amita stared at him. He looked to the side.

“See? This be what happenin’ when you don’t let me practice on you.”

Jashik wailed and retreated back to his pile of drawings. Amita rolled her eyes, “well, if you gonna’ be like that, then I’m gonna’ go back to the village! What better place to practice my stealth than on the outskirts?”

Her guardian protested weakly, and Amita informed him that he could protest all he liked; she was still going.

As per usual, her presence went unnoticed at first. Amita cautiously observed the other trolls. They seemed to have patrols, and one pair of males passed in front of her. Once she was sure they had passed, she slithered onto the beach.

Only to have a shadow fall over her.

She bolted under the nearest hut, right before she was grabbed. One of the males had backtracked, and was crouched by the tracks that Amita had left. She knew he could see her.

“Rokhan?” his companion had wandered back over to him. This Rokhan fellow had a boyish smirk on his lips.

“Well now don’t you be a lil’ shy eh?” and he was suddenly in front of the hut that Amita had darted under. She stayed as still as possible, and Rokhan’s companion hummed over her tracks.

“A snake?”

“A cobra. Y’know, I be thinkin’, you must be the one that young An’jen got in a fuss with her chaako about a few years ago.”

Amita soon found herself hanging in the air. Immediately she spat a hiss at the troll, snapping her body from side to side until she managed to wrap her muscular tail around his arm. Rokhan chuckled, then drew his head back when she attempted to bite his face.

“Mon, you be lucky you be havin’ such big hands,” his companion muttered, and Rokhan scoffed.

“So it be a bit big for a cobra! So what?”

“Not many of us can just be holding one like that, Rokhan.”

He pursed his lips. Amita ceased her struggling. Jashik obviously wasn’t nearby; otherwise, he would have come charging out of the jungle already.

She didn’t want them to know but-

Shifting back into her troll form was the best option Amita had. The looks of disbelief made her decision worth it.

And an uncanny stare settled on her back.

“Wha--”

“It be a child!?”

Amita scrambled between Rokhan’s legs, narrowly dodged the other male, and made a beeline straight for the jungles. Once again, Rokhan appeared suddenly beside her.

A bolt of lightning struck between the two, forcing Rokhan to jump back. Amita screamed, of course, but managed to dive into the foliage anyway. Rokhan had snarled.

Amita quickly shifted back into a cobra once she got a hold of herself. She slithered far down the beach, not caring what Rokhan and his companion were muttering about. The uncanny stare remained on her person, and no matter where she went, she felt it.

I be in stealth!! How can this gaze still be on me?! she was miffed. Amita could fully understand how Rokhan had discovered her: he’d drawn close enough to sense that she was there. And, regardless of her being in stealth, her long body would leave tracks on the sand.

So that be something I need to be workin’ on, she thought begrudgingly. Either she had to move faster, or she had to avoid the beach entirely.

Sniffling drew her out of her thoughts, and Amita halted.

Outside a hut, she could just barely make out the form of a child - one that she had seen before.

Amita’s curiosity got the better of her, and she slithered closer.

Wait.

Were those… bruises? The other girl wiped at her eyes, and wrapped her arms around her legs. There was a great deal of rummaging around in the hut behind her, and the girl appeared to bite down on her lip to stop from making any noise.

Against her better judgement, Amita slithered closer. And, further against her better judgement, she dropped out of her stealth. She flicked her tongue, releasing a quiet hiss.

“Ah-!!” the girl clapped her hand to her mouth, staring at Amita with frightful eyes. One was black. Amita slithered closer.

“Uh um wh-wai--”

She pressed her nose to the black eye, flicking her tongue again. Shan’do Stormrage had shown her how to use one simple healing spell while in her cobra form. It didn’t completely heal the bruise, but it healed the wound enough that it only faintly showed.

Amita didn’t know where to go from there. She ended up dipping her head to the other girl and started slithering away.

“Don’t--!”

Amita paused.

“Please don’t go, snakey…” the girl rubbed at her eyes again, “I don’t be havin’ many friends… will… will you be stayin’ with me… for a while…?”

Amita coiled in on herself, flicking her tail back and forth. The girl seemed to take this as a challenge of sorts.

“M-my name is Luxanai… I prefer Ani though… n-not that you can be talkin’, but… but I be guessin’ you should know, snakey. You’re um. You’re the snakey that An’jen be chasin’ some time ago, aren’t you?���

Amita reared up in interest at this.

“Do you have a name, snakey?” and Ani seemed to only be asking for the sake of making her stay.

Boy, did Amita have a surprise for her.

She cautiously slithered closer, turned, and began to drag the end of her tail in the dirt.

‘Amita’, she wrote. Luxanai beamed at her.

“Amita,” she said, giggling softly to herself, “I hope I be seeing you around more often.”

Luxanai looked over her shoulder, and sighed, “I think that everyone will be thinking I’m crazy if I be telling them that I made friends with a snakey… they’ll prob’ly say I be lyin’.”

The druid rested her head on Luxanai’s shoulder, bringing the other girl to giggle again. Luxanai reached up to pat Amita on the head - she allowed it. After all, Luxanai’s hand was shaking, and that wasn’t something Amita could ignore in good conscious.

Soon after, Amita lowered her head from Luxanai’s shoulder to her thigh. She subconsciously coiled herself around the other girl. Luxanai seemed content to just ramble about some of the other children, and Amita only paid half attention.

She wasn’t sure how long she remained at Luxanai’s side, simply giving the other girl the comfort of her company, but when someone harshly called for Luxanai, the little girl jolted.

Amita flopped onto the ground, startled, and was further confused by Luxanai waving her hands in a frantic shooing motion.

“Y-you gotta’ go, snakey, b-before my family be findin’ you,” her expression grew saddened, as if she were on the verge of tears, “I… I hope you’ll be stoppin’ by again sometime…”

The cobra growled softly, then quickly went on her way after dropping into her stealth - she’d heard a raptor cry just seconds after Luxanai had finished speaking, and slithered in that direction. Jashik was waiting for her just within the line of trees.

Thank you for reading!! I’m having quite a bit of fun with this, especially exploring the whole idea of Dreamwalking and what not (also, Gonk WAS the Loa that took Zenta’bra and some other trolls to the Emerald Dream in Cataclysm, so I see no reason for him to not be the reason why Amita gets there). As for why Naralex and Malfurion are involved... Amita had to learn druidic magic from someone.

And as much as I don’t like how Blizzard writes Malfurion, he’s clearly the sort of character that doesn’t see factions much. Again, this just means that I see no reason for him to be unwilling to teach Amita magic.

But yay! Now you all know why Amita calls herself Amita. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

[ktrsss1fics]

I’ll Be Your Safety: One.

There are two things that all human beings crave: love and security. These two things are a necessity to survival. These two things are essential to human development. These two things are the key to happiness.

 "One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is love.“                                                                –Sophocles   

It’s a picnic in a meadow full of spring flowers, a perfectly made crepe on a Sunday afternoon, a pair of jeans that always look good; a tub of ice cream and a Nicholas Sparks film, a stroll through the park as the leaves change color, a warm day on a secluded beach; that song that sums up every emotion you’ve ever felt, the leftover batter after a batch of brownies, one of the best feelings in the entire world.

It’s smiling without realizing it, a dozen sunflowers just because, a hot cup of tea and the morning paper; a Disney movie marathon, a cuddle session with a tiny puppy, a game of hide & seek with a group of five year olds; a warm feeling, a comfort, a constant.

It’s wanting to be with that special person every minute of every hour of every day.

“Safety is something that happens between your ears, not something you hold    in your hands.” – Jeff Cooper

It’s the warm embrace of a mother as she cradles a newborn child, the comforting shell of a caterpillar’s cocoon, the brave barrier of a tiny birds nest; the feeling of curling up on the couch after a long day at work, the invisible protection created by a pile of blankets after a scary movie, the first cup of coffee on a cold winter’s day; an undisturbed blanket of snow after a blizzard, a big bear hug, a homemade meal.

It’s a worn out sweatshirt that fits just right, a call to Mom when things get tough, a trip home after being away; comfort food in a foreign land, the last few pages of a really good book, a long hard run on a cold Monday morning; a warm feeling, a comfort, a constant.

It’s that one person who can always make things better no matter what.

Her car pulled into it’s designated spot as a long sigh escaped. She still couldn’t believe it. Two months ago, she was in the same exact spot with her spunky Aunt Ruth. Two months ago, she was gallivanting around London with a seventy-three year old woman who still acted as if she was in her twenties. Two months ago, life was great.

How did everything go downhill so fast? She didn’t know. One second she was working double shifts trying to save money for school and the next she was back in England taking care of her ailing relative. She was asked by her mother with the blessing of her grandmother to fly across the pond to keep her aunt company while she battled a fierce cold. In a week’s time, the cold took a turn for the worse and the doctors didn’t think her aunt was going last much longer. Within two days, the older woman passed away holding the hand of her young niece.

Funeral plans were made and the will was read. She was not expecting anything less than a few pieces of jewelry or some clothes. She didn’t get anything of the sort. Instead, Veronica Michaels was granted the deed to her dear Aunt Ruth’s posh London flat—the same flat that her Uncle Marvin helped create, the same flat that was given to the couple when it was finished free of charge, the same flat that was still free to this day.

She just didn’t understand why it was given to her. She was barely twenty-two years old and was just about to head back to school to get her second art degree. She worked at a tiny coffee shop for minimum wage and barely had a social life. Why didn’t her aunt give her home to one of her kids or grandkids? She didn’t understand. Yes, she was moving to London for school. Yes, she needed a place to stay. But never in a million years did she would be living in the flat her aunt and uncle turned into a home.

From the moment she moved in, she knew it was going to be tough. Her aunt was everywhere. Tears came and went as she slowly started to unpack her things. While placing one of her old paintings above the stove, the young woman noticed a package on the counter. Her name was gracefully written across it in her aunt’s handwriting. Inside the large envelope were a letter and a object wrapped in colorful wrapping paper.

Ronnie-

When you were four years old, you walked up to me one day and said, “Auntie Roof, today I’m moving to Wundun so I help Petah Pan grow up.” From that day forward, I knew you were going to do great with your life and a lot of people were going to benefit from it.

If you are reading this then step one of your plan is now complete. You’ve done it. You are in London, my sweet, living in a place that held so many great memories for your uncle and me. I know it will do the same for you. That is why I left my home to you because I know with you it will not become a boring old flat with white walls and modern furniture. It will transform into a sanctuary for anyone who needs it, a studio for all your wonderful artwork, a home away from home, another adventure in the story of your life. It can be anything and everything you want it to be. You are the only one in this family to grasp this concept and that is why I want you to have it.

To keep up with your plan, all you need to do now is find your Peter Pan. I wish you luck!

Just remember, you can do anything you set your mind to. Don’t let anyone else in the family tell you otherwise. You’ve got the brains to do so but you’ve also got something more important—the heart. Remember my words from our trip to Cambridge, Ron. Live by them.

I love you with all my heart and I always will.

Love, Auntie

Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she placed the note down. She slowly picked up the wrapped gift and tore open the paper. Inside was a large frame. A small Post-It note was attached with another message.

                                   You were always my favorite artist.

Inside the frame was a very colorful drawing. It was clearly drawn by a small child. After a few minutes of studying, the young woman could only assume that it was supposed to be a self- portrait of her in London talking to Peter Pan. Her tears fell faster as she took down the painting she had just hung and replaced it with the picture her aunt had saved. From that moment on, she knew that everything was going to be just fine.

Over the next few days, Veronica Michaels took her time unpacking all of her belongings. Her flat was slowly becoming more livable despite the plethora of boxes taking up most of the room. After a frantic search for a pair of scissors, the young woman realized her car was still packed with stuff—most importantly her art supplies. Ronnie spent most of the morning walking up and down the stairs outside her building with arms full of an assortment of supplies.

This had to be about her fifth trip of the day. She was tired and sick of carrying everything by herself but knew it wouldn’t get done if she didn’t do it right then. The tiny girl had two medium-sized canvases under her right arm while she held a huge box of random supplies in the other. A bundle of paintbrushes were being smashed against the left side of the box as she continued to walk. Just as she about halfway up the staircase, she tripped causing the bundle to fall out of her hands and down the stairs.

“Jesus Christ.” She groaned before looking behind her to see where the brushes fell.

As she did so, everything in the box started to shift around threatening to spill out.

“Don’t worry Love, I’ve got it.” An Irish voice called up to her.

She looked over to find a boy with bleach blonde squatting down.

“Thank you!” She shouted before continuing to head to her place.

The young boy raced up the stairs after her. Her front door quickly came into view. The Irish boy casually reached over her shoulder and placed the brushes back in her box. Ronnie turned slightly and was met by a pair of the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. A slow blush crept across her face as a huge smile formed on his.

“Um would you mind getting my keys out for me?” She asked shyly.

“No problem.” He said sweetly. “Where are they?”

“Front pocket.” She said adjusting the canvases under her arm.

“Wh-Where?” He asked shyly before stepping back slightly.

She turned her hip towards him as a keychain peaked out from the pocket of her jeans. The young boy shyly stuck his hand in a pulled them out before sticking them in the door. He held the door open before grabbing the canvases from her arm trying to help.

“Thanks.” She said softly before setting the box down on the counter.

“My pleasure.” He said with a huge grin on his face.

“I don’t know what you are doing but um I have a few more boxes-“ She started to say.

“Are you asking me to be your slave?” He said with a questionable look.

“I wouldn’t say slave, more like personal assistant.” She said with a smile.

“Which basically means slave, great.” He said rolling his eyes.

All Ronnie could do was start laughing at the young man. A large smile formed on his face as he nodded agreeing to help.

“Let’s go then.” She slipped her keys back in her pocket before following him out the door.

“I’m Niall by the way.” The young man said with a smile.

“Ronnie.” She said sweetly as she took in his features. He was extremely cute.

“Oh you’re Ruth’s niece.” He said softly. “How are you uh handling everything?”

“It’s been hard.” Ronnie replied softly. “But I’m getting there.”

“She always talked about you.” He said sweetly.

“All good I hope.” Ronnie said as they got to her car.

“Never good.” He said with a smirk. “Always going on about how you watch too much football and work out too much and you tell too many jokes and how you are too good at art and how you are always obnoxiously singing.”

“Wow and to think I was starting to like you.” Ronnie shot back. Niall wiggled his eyebrows causing her to laugh.

“No she said you were a sweet, caring, kind, respectable young lady and that we would all be very lucky to meet you.” Niall said with a smile.

“I don’t know if I believe you now.” She said giving him a playful dirty look.

He threw up his hands in defense, “Cross me heart.”

“Cross me heart.” She said mimicking his thick Irish accent.

“Are you sagging my accent?” He said in mock horror.

“Not at all.” She said sounding extremely Irish. His infectious laugh filled the air.

“I’m not sagging it. Irish accents are my favorite.” She said.

“Ruth said you’d say that.” He smiled.

They grabbed the rest of her stuff and headed upstairs to her place.

“What else did she say?” Ronnie asked.

“That we’d be good friends.” He said as a genuine smile formed.

“Well we mustn’t let her down then.” She smiled as they headed inside.

The tiny girl started to move boxes around to make things less cluttered while the blonde haired boy plopped down on her couch and flicked on the television.

“Make yourself at home Niall.” Ronnie said sarcastically.

“Will do Ron, will do.” He smiled.

The room grew silent except for the quiet chatter of the television. Ronnie worked quietly to start unpacking all of her stuff. She sat on the floor start to sift through a box labeled Clothes before making two huge piles on the floor.

“Hey Ron, got any food?” Niall asked.

“There are apple slices in the fridge.” She said quietly.

“Will you get them for me?” He asked.

“You’ve got legs get them yourself.” She said looking at him.

“But the Liverpool game just started.” He said pouting.

Veronica sighed before getting up. She grabbed another box labeled Clothes before grabbing a bag of apple slices she had cut earlier that day. She chucked the bag at the boy sitting on her couch making him laugh. He flashed her a large smile before focusing his attention back to the game. Ronnie sat down and dumped the box of clothes into a new pile. The next twenty minutes were filled with a comfortable silence. Her eyes occasionally scanned the television as she worked on getting her clothes folded. Once halftime hit, Niall got up and placed the apples back in the fridge. He lingered in the kitchen before heading back over towards her.

“Why did you let me in?” Niall asked.

“I didn’t actually let you in. You let yourself in.” She said making a new pile.

“You could have easily told me to leave.” He said quietly.

She shrugged, “Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“You know I could be a serial killer.” Niall said sitting beside her.

He slowly picked up an old shirt and started to fold it trying to help her.

“You’re harmless.” She replied.

“How do you know?” He said looking at her.

“I can just tell.” She said moving a pile of shorts closer to her.

“But—” he started to say before she interrupted him.

“Besides my aunt wouldn’t approve of me being friends with a serial killer.” She said turning to look to him. “Would she?”

He just started laughing before grabbing some more clothes to fold. “I suppose.”

The young couple spent the rest of the game folding clothes and messing around. Even though they had just met, he felt like he had known Ronnie his whole life. There was just something about her. He couldn’t pinpoint it but he knew he liked it. They had gotten all her clothes folded and put in piles to be put away. She started to unwrap a box of dishes her mother had shipped over while Niall laid comfortably on the floor next to her having a staring contest with the ceiling fan.

“You’re from LA, right?” He asked quietly.

“Unfortunately, yes.” She replied popping a piece of bubble wrap.

“Unfortunate? It’s the land of babes and the beach.” He said trying to sound American.

She let out a delicate laugh making him smile. “That’s exactly why I don’t like it.”

“I’ve been there a few times. It isn’t that bad.” He said scratching his nose.

“Live there for a long period of time and then get back to me.” She said leaning forward. Niall laughed softly before glancing over at her as she reached for another pile of dishes.

“So what else did my aunt tell you about me?” Ronnie asked looking at him.

“Oh I am incapable of discussing that at this point in time.” He said in a straight face.

“Why not?” She said trying not to laugh at his attempt to be serious.

He glared at her playfully. “Because I said so.”

She stuck out her tongue at him with a slight attitude making him laugh.

“So what part of Ireland are you from?” She asked with a smile.

“Mullingar.” He said with a smile.

“I hear it’s nice there.” She smiled, “My Uncle Marvin was from Edenderry.”

“Ruth’s husband, right?” He said looking at her.

The tiny girl nodded slowly with a small smile on her face.

“Have you ever been?” Niall asked closing his eyes before letting out a sigh.

“No. My aunt and I were going to go for her seventy-fifth birthday but it doesn’t look like I’m going to get to do that.” She said softly trying her hardest to hide her emotions.

His eyes shot open as he sat up, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ronnie said before opening another box. “Anyways back to the game.”

“Right.” He said quietly still feeling bad. “Who’s turn was it?”

“I think it was yours.” She said as she watched him lie back down and close his eyes.

“Favorite football team.” He asked softly.

“Arsenal.” She said throwing a piece of used newspaper into a pile.

He placed his hands over his face before sighing dramatically.

“What?” Ronnie said glancing at him.

“Right when I think we are going to be best friends, you go and pull that on me.” Niall said sitting up, “You’re killing me Ronnie.”

“What?” She said looking at him with a smile. “How can you hate Arsenal?”

“Easy.” He said in a matter of fact tone.

“Who do you like then?” Ronnie asked raising an eyebrow.

He opened his mouth to speak but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Please don’t say Man United or I will be forced to kick you out of my flat.” She said sounding serious. Niall just shook his head as a huge smile formed. He liked her.

“Can I answer now?” He asked with a serious look on his face.

Ronnie nodded holding her breath for dramatic effect.

“Derby County.” Niall said proudly.

She exhaled loudly making him laugh. She then looked at him slightly confused but equally impressed. “Derby County, decent choice.”

“It’s a helluva lot better than Arsenal.” He said with an arrogant smile.

The tiny blonde just rolled her eyes, “We’ll see about that.”

Niall yawned softly as his eyes lit up. “Do you know what time it is?”

“A quarter to four.” Ronnie said looking at her watch.

“Shit.” The Irishman said popping up. “I have to go. I have a uh meeting for work.”

“Oh okay. Well thank you for the help and for keeping me company.” She said standing up and leading him to the door. “It was real fun.”

The tall boy stepped forward and pulled her into a big bear hug.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He whispered in her ear.

“Good luck with your meeting.” She said with a smirk.

“Thanks.” He said blushing. “Ronnie, if you ever need to use my muscles or if you just want to hang out again, I’m just two doors down.”

“I don’t know you’re a Derby County fan, seems sketch.” She teased playfully.

“This is coming from the girl who likes Arsenal.” Niall laughed—his accent thick.

Ronnie just smiled as the young man shook his head walking outside. “I’ll see you around Niall.” She said as he simply waved back.

The tiny girl shut her front door before going back to the box she was currently unloading. From the moment he left a small smile had taken over the young girl’s face. She didn’t know why it was there but she knew she enjoyed it. She started to hum a little song as her phone buzzed from the kitchen. She walked over to see who it was. She looked confused for a moment before sliding a finger over the lock and reading the message.

Lock your door I don’t want any other serial killers to get into your flat. And before you ask, never underestimate the power of an Irishman love ;) xx

[backroadblues]

June 6th, 2017 - Frankfurt, Germany

The time has come to bring our grand European Adventure to an end. it is befitting that it would be grey and rainy on this morning in Germany. It is as if the Country itself is sad that we are leaving. We make our rounds through the home that we rented in the small town of Rossdorf, we close all the windows, empty the trash and say farewell to Gretchen, the 70 year old tortoise that lives in the back yard. We load our things into the back of our trusty little min-van, a Ford Galaxy, that we picked up about 3 weeks ago at Ciampino Airport in Rome. We close and lock the door to the house and drop the keys in the Post Box as requested and we are off at about 9:00 am to head to the airport in Frankfurt.

The traffic around Frankfurt is a bit heavy. The GPS continually re-routes us trying to help us beat the traffic tie-ups. The trip that ordinarily should have takes us about 30 minutes takes about 40 minutes. At 9:00 am we are on the tail-end of the morning commute. Frankfurt is a very large and sprawling airport - seemingly built under the roof of one huge terminal. In spite of its size, airplanes still often must park on the tarmac and have buses retrieve the passengers. We are flying on Lufthansa on the way home, which departs from Terminal 1, but the rental car return is near Terminal 2. We will have to take the bus to Terminal 1. We make our way to the Hertz rental car return, and fortunately, it is not that busy there. The attendant points us to a space where we can park the car - a saucy lass from England is working the returns today. She quickly hands me a receipt after inspecting the car and we are off and on our way.

Here is an interesting aside - well interesting to me, but the rest of you are free to skip this paragraph. I look at the receipt and see that we drove a whopping 4,766 kilometers - for the unconverted in the USA - that’s over 2,955 miles. I am shocked, I had no idea we had driven that much. To make the math simple - if I assume we averaged 60 miles/hour that means we spent a total of 49 hours of our time in Europe driving from point “a” to point “b”. We were in Europe for a total of 27 days - if we further assume that 16 hours of each day (24 hrs / 16 awake hrs) that’s 66% of the day that we are awake and can be spent doing fun stuff. That means we had a total of (27 days x 24 hr/day x .66) 428 hours available to us for fun stuff and we spent 49 hours of them driving or a little over 10%. I decide that wasn’t a bad trade-off when I consider all the neat places we got to go and the fact that a lot of those driving moments will be unforgettable - like cheating death by driving along the Amalfi Coast and cruising through a sea of pedestrians in Bellagio. Those moments are priceless. I’m sorry I had to turn this into a math problem, but that’s just the way my strange mind works. The reason I went through all of this is because some people think that simply relying on trains or flying from point “a” to “b” is the way to go. The disadvantage to that of course is that when you get to point “b” you’re sort of stuck - sure you can take cabs or buses but if you factor in the “hassle factor” knowing us, we would have missed a lot of the really special places we got to see because we were able to simply hop in the car and go. There is also the fact that when you drive, you are setting your own itinerary and schedule - if we want to make a side trip to Volterra or Porto Venere, we can and were are certainly happy we didn’t miss these places. So, if you are a little adventurous, my recommendation is to go ahead and rent a car. It is not that tough to drive in Italy or Germany.

A little about our trusty little mini-van. When I was making plans for the trip, I had a special offer from Avis to rent a nice E class or CL class Mercedes sedan for our trip. I was all ready to go for it. I had visions of us screaming down the Autobahn at some un-Godly speed, flashing our headlights at everything in our way, but then I looked at the trunk capacity in these cars. I even suggested that everyone watch Rick Steves video on how to pack lightly for a trip to Europe. Sure we only need 1 pair of shoes and 3 changes of clothes all stuffed into a soft sided backpack. If we could all do that, we could easily fit luggage for 4 passengers in the trunk of the Benz. if your have read any of my other posts (#rick-steves-is-an-idiot) you know by now that most of the people on our little trip elected not to follow Rick’s sage advice. So I went from looking at Autobahn pavement burners to looking at soccer-mom mini-vans. This is how we ended up in the Ford Galaxy. Now after having driven it over 2,900 miles, I have to say that I have no regrets at all. Our little 4-cylinder, diesel engined van had plenty of pep and allowed us to cruise at (Elisa and Carolyn - don’t read this part) over 100 mph with ease on the Autobahns in Germany all while getting great fuel economy. The driver’s and co-pilot seats were very comfy and I never had a sore back from a long days drive. The rear seats were equally comfy - so comfy that our rear seat passengers converted some of those “awake hours” to “sleeping hours”, but then there is Trent, he starts to nod off when he simply lifts the handle to open the car door. Let’s not forget to mention the ample amount of cargo capacity in this little van. With the 3rd row seats folded totally flat we had enough room (though just barely) to accommodate Carolyn’s suitcase that we affectionately named Moby, leaving just enough room to spare for 3 other suitcases. As the trip went on, it did seem as if the number of pieces of luggage was beginning to multiply. Either there was some suitcase hanky-panky was going on back there, or it may have simply been due to the many shopping sprees Carolyn and Elisa would embark upon. Also, there was a large retractable cover that would conceal all our goodies out of sight when we parked. If I had one complaint about the Ford Galaxy, it is that the turning radius on that little mini-van was pretty horrible. Many a time what should have been a simple 3-point u-turn on street would turn into a 9-point turn. The turning radius of the car when coupled with the narrow streets we encountered, made for a lot of hand-over-hand turning of the steering wheel. All things considered, I would highly recommend a diesel Ford Galaxy to anyone that needs a comfy cruiser for 4 people and their luggage.

Reflections - Elisa:

I asked Elisa to comment on what she felt were some of her most memorable moments on this trip. The first thing that came to her mind had to do with the main reason for our trip. We had been invited to attend the wedding of her cousin Alessio. They were getting married in the same Church in the small Tuscan hill town of Suvereto where her parents got married in 1955. Elisa had a faded photograph of her parents on that wedding day in 1955 and was always surprised to see how many people seemed to be on the steps of the church as her parents were emerging after saying their vows. Elisa had always wondered who were all those people and why were they all there. Then here we were on the steps of that same church in 2017 some 62 years later and her questions would be answered. When we exited the church after Alessio and his bride Dana had finished taking their vows, we saw that the entire town had convened on the steps of the church and on the plaza in front of the church. There was a band playing music and lots of rice being thrown. Many of the people knew Alessio, but many did not - it is just what Italians do - they celebrate the important things in life. All those people were out there and we were bathed in joy their joy as we stepped out into the sun. Elisa now understood what it was that was happening in that faded photograph back taken back in 1955 and she was filled with tearful emotion. As she milled about the towns people, she actually met a woman that was standing on those steps on that very day back in 1955 and she was there celebrating the wedding of Elisa’s parents just as she was on this day in 2017, celebrating another marriage. It was clearly very emotional for Elisa.

Elisa and I have been to Italy and other parts of Europe many times. We have usually traveled with our kids or kid and their friends and each of those trips have been special to us, but Elisa really believes that this was our very best trip (so far). Traveling with my brother Trent and his wife Carolyn made it special. Even though we had been to many of the places we took Trent and Carolyn to before, re-experiencing them again with and through them made it more special for us. Like, we usually do when we travel to Italy, we visit a lot of Elisa’s relatives and by introducing Trent and Carolyn to all of them they are quickly embraced in true Italian culture, which revolves first around family and secondly around food. There were lots of both to go around.

Another highlight of this trip for Elisa is our stay in the tiny town of Grainau in the German Alps near Garmisch-Partinkirchen. We stayed at a vacation rental called Ferienwohnung-Zugspitze and our hostess Carolin did such a fine job on the accommodations and God lent a helping hand by placing the majestic Zugspitze mountain right in the backyard of our apartment. We were there for only 3 nights and we could have spent several more. It was so relaxing there. There are a number of things we would have liked to have seen but we missed - Bertchesgaden and the Eagles Nest. We would have like to have spent a day in Munich. We would have like to pay our respects at Dachau. This gives us a reason for another trip.

Lastly for Elisa, the trip was special because she was able to reconnect with her long lost high school friend Terri Rooney and meet her terrific husband Gary. Although the 2 hadn’t seen each other for over 30 years the friendship picked up right where it left off. We also got to make a great new friend in Gary, her husband of 25 years. He is a terrific guy and the only person I’ve gotten to know that has more karaoke stuff that Elisa and I have - a lot more.

Reflections - Rex

For me, I agree with Elisa that traveling with Trent and Carolyn made the trip a lot more fun, They hadn’t been to Europe before and It was great fun sharing with them some of the many things we had seen and done before. By doing it with them, we would learn so much in the process as well. The best thing about this trip is that there is so much we did not get to cram into our schedule - such as - trip up the Italian and French Rivera. We love Santa Margherita and Porto Fino. We didn’t get to take in San Tropez or Nice or Monaco. We didn’t get to venture into Switzerland. We missed Paris, the Bordeaux region and we also missed London, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. All of these could make up a nice itinerary for another trip some day.

Another highlight for me, was the different personalized tours that we took. Usually, Elisa and I would read up on a location, take information from guidebooks and then explore on our own. Our experience with Roberta in Rome has convinced us that it is well worth the extra money to find a knowledgeable and friendly guide that speaks English well. We really think it is worth the extra money to arrange for a private tour. By doing this, you and the guide can interact and she can tailor the tour to what it is that you are most interested in.

Driving in Italy - The Amalfi Coast - I never tire of seeing it and driving it. Yes the roads are narrow, the cliffs steep and the Italian drivers all think they drive Formula 1, but I am glad we got to go there again. Once again, we had great accommodations there with great views. Our dinner at La Tagliata was also a real highlight for me and if I could only name a few of my most favorite things about the trip, La Tagliata would have to be on the list. When it comes to driving, I will never forget driving into the town of Bellagio and having to wedge our car into that tiny street with pedestrians inches from our car. That was unforgettable and now that it is over, I look back on it and find it to be fun and exciting, while at the time, it may have seemed a little terrifying.

Lastly for me, I would have to put our cooking lesson with Chef Sylvia on the list. It didn’t hurt that our menu was featuring Italian Mussels that are harvested right here in La Spezia and I love mussels. But Chef Sylvia was funny and friendly and we really appreciated her opening her kitchen up to us. Even though her staff was preparing for another busy day of serving lunch to locals and tourists that flock to this Michelin rated restaurant, they made us all feel like this day and this kitchen, had been set aside just for us to learn a few of Chef Sylvia’s favorite recipes. The fact that we would get to walk the open air market with her Husband Alessandro, and shop for some of the ingredients we would use in our cooking was also a very nice touch.

I do have to cram one more highlight in here - our trek to find Carolyn’s ancestral roots was also very fun. I am so happy that we not only found the little town of Lugliano, but that we got to find a living relative our her Great-Grandfather. It was another emotionally unforgettable experience.

Closing out the trip…. Elisa and I spent spend a total of 27 days there, 23 of which were with Trent and Carolyn. We all got along well and had a great time. With all the neat places we weren’t able to fit into the busy itinerary we will surely be traveling together again at some point. A sad fact is that we have more days behind us than we have ahead of us - so we have to do it while we can. And when we do - I’ll try to write about it so that maybe I can inspire some of you to remember, that our lives are not only about working and making money - it is also about experiencing the world we live in and getting to know and help our fellow passengers on this journey we call life.

That’s all for now.

Rex

[laurelkrugerr]

Smashing Podcast Episode 24 With Cassie Evans: What Is SVG Animation?

We’re talking about SVG Animation. How can vector images, JavaScript and CSS all work together to provide engaging motion graphics? Drew McLellan talks to SVG expert Cassie Evans to find out.

Today we’re talking about SVG Animation. How can vector images, JavaScript and CSS all work together to provide engaging motion graphics? I spoke to SVG expert Cassie Evans to find out.

Show Notes

Weekly Update

Transcript

Drew McLellan: She is a front end developer and speaker with a background in graphic design and motion design. She got started with coding back in the days of MySpace and Neopets and is on a mission to make the web more whimsical again. She currently works at Clearleft in Brighton UK, and can usually be found tinkering with SVGs on CodePen. So we know she’s a skilled developer and SVG expert, but did you know she was National Junior Wing Walking Champion for three years in a row? My smashing friends, please welcome Cassie Evans. Hello Cassie. How are you?

Cassie Evans: I’m smashing, thank you.

Drew: I wanted to talk to you today about one of your passions, which is SVG, and in particular the animation side of things. I think most people listening to this podcast will have heard of Scalable Vector Graphics in some shape or form. I know I’ve used them heavily with things like logos and icons in recent years, but let’s not assume. So for anyone who isn’t really up to speed with SVG, what makes it different from other ways of adding graphics to a webpage?

Cassie: So, a lot of the clue’s in the name, of course. So, SVG stands for Scalable Vector Graphic. So, these are first the images that can be any size. You can make them really, really small or really, really big, and they’ll retain image quality and won’t get pixelated like JPEGs or PNGs.

Cassie: You can also make them really, really small, so small in file size. So, everyone’s kind of added a PNG to their site that’s a million megabytes and seen what that does to page load. So, you can add all sorts of cool illustrations and stuff to your site without impacting on performance too badly, and also you can animate them so that’s the most exciting bit. With JPEGs or PNGs, if you wanted to animate them or move bits of them around, you’d have to cut them out into little pieces or kind of layer them on top of each other, whereas with SVGs you’ve got actual elements in the SVG. It’s got a DOM structure just like HTML does.

Drew: So, I guess in a world of mobile devices with different screen sizes and different pixel densities and sort of constrained data connections, SVG really is a format that’s more suited to the modern web than the old graphic styles. Is that fair?

Cassie: Yes, definitely.

Drew: Most images are of course sort of binary based, but SVG is totally view sourcable, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. So, that’s really exciting because you can actually right click and view source on an SVG and you can traverse around the DOM and kind of see what you’ve got and kind of get to learn it that way, which I find that really great. It feels a lot like the old web, like being able to go to a website and view source on it and see how it’s put together.

Drew: SVG kind of feels more sort of native and integrated into the web than things like maybe Canvas or even back in the day Flash, which of course flash was scalable vector graphics, wasn’t it? In its own way. And those technologies feel very much like a black box that’s encased on the page that you can’t sort of get in or out of. SVG is a lot more integrated isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. It’s funny that you’d say that because I always refer to Canvas as a black box when people are asking whether they should use Canvas or SVG for something. I think a lot of the time, obviously it depends on the use case, but one of the things with Canvas is if you don’t have JavaScript for some reason, if your code fails, you end up with a little black box with nothing in it. So you could create this crazy infographic, all sorts of things going on inside this Canvas element, and then you just lose it all. Whereas SVG, it’s a lot more aligned with progressive enhancement, so you can have an animated SVG, maybe that’s animating using JavaScript, but then without JavaScript you will still have the illustration. You’ll still have the SVG there.

Drew: And SVG isn’t new to the web, is it? It’s been around for quite a while.

Cassie: It has, yes. It’s been around for longer than I’ve been doing stuff on the web.

Drew: And it certainly seems to be coming into its own a lot more with things like animation, like you’ve been saying, but also as we were mentioning, the way that it scales just makes it perfectly suited when we’re designing sites that might be viewed on a retina display with double the pixel density, or need to be delivered over a mobile connection where you want things to be as performant as possible. So we know SVG has got a DOM, you mentioned that. Does that mean that the things in it can be manipulated with code?

Cassie: Yes, so that’s the most exciting thing. You can get at SVG elements and you can animate them and move them around just like you can with HTML DOM elements, and it also means from an accessibility perspective, SVG has a DOM so you can traverse that DOM if you’re using a screen reader or something, so you can make SVG graphics very accessible to screen readers.

Drew: Yes, so I was going to ask about the situation with accessibility because classically, graphical stuff on a page is one of the most difficult things to make accessible. So are there sort of attributes that you can add to hint? Can you use the ARIA stuff in SVG or how does that work?

Cassie: Yeah. You can use ARIA labelledby, but you also have title and description tags that you can put inside an SVG.

Drew: That’s incredible and in terms of sort of motion preferences, because that’s something that we’ve seen recently with a media query in CSS to see that the user prefers reduced motion and you can change your animations and things based on that, is that something you can do in SVG or does it have to be implemented a little bit more manually?

Cassie: Well with SVG people often talk about SVG animation like it’s its own separate kind of special thing and of course we used to have SMIL. We still do have SMIL technically. It was getting deprecated, but it’s actually not being deprecated anymore. It’s just not really as widely used and not worked on anymore, but we used to have SMIL and that was what most people refer to as SVG animation. Whereas now, SVG animation could mean any of those things. It could mean SMIL, it could mean CSS animation, or it could mean animating using JavaScript or a JavaScript animation library. So, there’s lots of different options but with CSS animation and JavaScript animation the option to use prefers reduced motion is there and should definitely be used.

Drew: So you mentioned CSS animation and of course there’s a certain amount that we can do, like with HTML elements and CSS animation, to create graphics and motion on a page. SVG just like blows that out of the water in terms of flexibility doesn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah, definitely. I think people make amazing things with just CSS, like Lynn Fisher makes really amazing things. There’s all sorts of people making crazy CSS only illustrations, but it takes a lot of time and the handover for that is pretty impossible. Like if you imagine a designer giving you an illustration and asking you to recreate that in a CSS, that would be a large ticket. So SVG kind of makes it a lot more feasible to have these interdisciplinary teams and pass things over from one person to another. So you can have an illustrator or a designer create an illustration in a vector graphics program like Illustrator, and then they can pass that SVG over to a developer who can animate it.

Drew: And I suppose that would fit quite well into people’s established workflows. We’re using things like Git, because SVG is text-based, isn’t it? So presumably, committing SVGs into Git you get all that ability to diff and merge and all those sort of powerful features that you get with other text-based stuff. Is that right?

Cassie: Yeah, exactly.

Drew: So it’s kind of like, well I say kind of like, it absolutely is graphics expressed as code.

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: Isn’t it? SVG?

Cassie: It is.

Drew: And it’s quite a lot like HTML in its syntax. It’s another XML based language, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yep.

Drew: So it has tags and attributes and nested children and all that sort of stuff that your average web developer is going to be used to.

Cassie: I think that that’s what I love the most about SVG is I’m really into creative coding and also teaching people, and I found that teaching people who are more of a creative leaning, they sometimes get a little thrown off when you immediately jump in with JavaScript or Python or something like that for creative coding, but without fail I’ve managed to get anyone that I taught on board with SVG because it’s got this really approachable entry points because it does look like HTML. So, you can give someone with an understanding of HTML and how to build websites SVG, and it looks the same, but it’s the graphics instead of documents and then you can animate that with CSS to start off with which is also a little bit more comfortable, and then you can kind of progress to animating it with JavaScript. So it’s a really good learning curve.

Drew: And of course it can be dynamic. It’s not just a case of creating motion. You can actually make the properties of it dynamic. So, one of the interesting things I’ve seen SVG used for, and it’s a grand term, but like data visualization, DataViz, and drawing graphs and charts and of course things like dashboards that we seem to have everywhere these days. SVG is sort of perfect for that isn’t it?

Cassie: Yes, definitely. SVG is great for DataViz. All the way from kind of small DataViz up to D3 which is very well known DataViz library that uses SVG under the hood. But you could also just, if you’ve got a little bit of data that you wanted to show on a web page, you could create a chart in a graphics editing program and then you could just use JavaScript to change those values and kind of change how your graph looks. So you don’t have to go all in with a massive database library. You can kind of just start off small.

Drew: Obviously sort of traditional graphs and charts and things are just sort of the tip of the iceberg when it comes to ways that SVG can help with data visualization. I saw you had an interesting project that you did at Clearleft with your solar panels on the roof. Can you tell us a little bit about that?

Cassie: That project was actually meant to be me learning D3 and then I got very distracted. We have some solar panels on the roof of our office, which I miss thoroughly actually it’s been so long, but yeah we’ve got some solar panels on the roof and I found out shortly after starting working at Clearleft that we had an API that was attached to the solar panels that you could hook into. So I was like…

Drew: Amazing.

Cassie: Right. I need this to be my side project, and I had a little look at what we got back from the API and amongst the data there was the amount of CO2 saved and they measured the amount of CO2 in trees.

Drew: Okay.

Cassie: So I was immediately like, wow, well we’re going to have to plot this somehow, but I want to measure it in trees because that’s such an interesting way of plotting this. So, all of my D3 aspirations went out of the window and I sat down in illustrator and recreated an illustration of our office building and created a jungle of trees and plants and stuff, and then I’m looking at how much CO2 we have saved and then kind of growing in these plants and vines and stuff. Yeah, it’s great. It’s really good to check back occasionally as well and just see how much the jungle’s grown.

Drew: It’s an amazingly creative way of visualizing that data, whereas if you were relying on traditional software for creating graphs and charts and things, there’s never going to be a function to create an office building with trees on top. That that just doesn’t exist, but then using JavaScript and using SVG to be able to generate those graphics and using the JavaScript to manipulate them to adjust the values that are being shown, you can come up with something completely new in a completely novel way of communicating an idea to the person using the site. So, we know we can hand codes the markup for SVGs, which me as a developer, I think that sounds great because I can go in and I can be very precise, but that is probably a technical skill that isn’t going to suit everybody, particularly those whose strengths being more visually creative than actual coding. So are there other ways to author SVGs or do you have to just do it by hand and in a text editor?

Cassie: I think I wrote a hamburger icon once just from the top of my head and I was super proud of myself, but the rest of the time I create SVGs in Illustrator or other alternatives. Affinity designer is really good. Illustrator has obviously the Adobe pricing structure, which can be a little bit out of people’s budgets, but Affinity Designer is like a once off purchase and it’s pretty good actually, and the SVG markup that you get out of it is good which is the most important thing. But yeah, I don’t think there’s anyone apart from, it’s a guy called Blake Bowen on the GreenSock forums, and I think that he could probably hand write SVG path data, but I don’t think it’s a thing that everyone can do. I don’t think that it’s a thing that we should be aspiring to do. It’s quite verbose.

Drew: So being a lightweight by using a dedicated graphics tool to author SVGs, it’s a perfectly valid route.

Cassie: It’s fine. Choose your battles.

Drew: Are there any tools out there that are free for filtering SVGs or is it all commercial?

Cassie: I think Inkscape is free, but yeah, I would really recommend Affinity Designer. I think for the kind of cheaper tier, I think it’s worth paying a little bit of money towards these tools because it can be quite frustrating working with clunky vector graphics tooling.

Drew: In terms of the output, the SVG output that you get from these tools, is it all the same? Do they all just basically generate the same SVG or some better than others?

Cassie: Yeah, that’s a very good question. I find Illustrator is a lot better than other tools, but it’s not something that should hold you back or make you feel like you need to spend that money. So at the end of the day you’ll get some markup out, some editors you might need to do a little more tweaking than others but most of them you will get workable SVG code out of it.

Drew: I’ve found personally when I’ve tried to create SVGs, and I’m not graphically skilled, that I get varying results depending on how I actually draw something in say Illustrator. Presumably when it comes to thinking about how something’s going to be animated, it matters more how you construct your shapes in the editors. Is that fair?

Cassie: Yeah, definitely. Also SVG has an implicit drawing order, so it’s not like HTML. So with HTML, you can use that index to kind of move things around and put things underneath or on top of other things, whereas with SVG the order that it is in the code will be the order that it is displayed on the web page. So that’s something to kind of keep in mind when you’re drawing out an SVG is getting your layers in the right order and then anything that you want to move as one unit you should wrap in a group and anything that you want to move separately from something else you need to make sure that it’s actually a separate shape.

Drew: Yeah, so I mean by getting your layers in order there you’re literally talking about the layers palette in Illustrator and dragging the things around before you export, is that right? Just getting them in the correct order and then exporting.

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: And once you have exported it are there tools that will help sort of optimize or, because I know with PNGs, there’s a whole load of things I use to cut all the craft out of the file and reduce the file size. Are there’s similar things for SVG?

Cassie: Yeah. There’s a tool called SVGOMG, which I use a lot, which is great and you can use that for batch processing. There’s terminal commands for it, but you can also, there’s a Gooey in the browser, which I really like for large illustrative SVGs because I think it’s nice to build it into, say your build process, if you’re dealing with a huge load of icons that you all want processed in the same way, but if you’re dealing with an illustrative SVG, it’s nice to be able to use the gooey because you can flip between the code view and the visual view and you can just make sure that the things that you’re changing in the settings aren’t visually affecting your SVG in a negative way and aren’t affecting the code in a way that you don’t want it to.

Drew: Presumably these tools, things like Illustrator, are great for creating graphics, but they’re not going to help us at all with animation are they? That all happens once we get the SVG and put it into a webpage.

Cassie: Yeah.

Drew: So what does that process look like? I mean, obviously it’s difficult to talk about animation too much on an audio podcast, but in terms of just the sort of process you’d go through. You put your SVG into a page, what happens then? How do you address parts of it or what do you do to start working with it?

Cassie: So it’s very similar to animating HTML DOM elements in that you need to be able to target the elements themselves. So that would involve putting classes or IDs on them so that you can target them, and then you can either use CSS for animation. There are some issues with transforms with CSS that are still kind of being ironed out a little bit. So I tend to recommend CSS for experimenting and playing with SVG animation. When it comes to SVG animation and production I will usually recommend GreenSock, which is a JavaScript animation library, and yeah, well with GreenSock and with CSS you basically just get the SVG elements and then do stuff to them.

Drew: So do you have full access to interacting with the complete range of JavaScript APIs and things like scroll events and mouse events and resizing and intersection and that whole browser environment presumably you’ve got at your disposal, to then have your animation interact with and respond to.

Cassie: Yeah. So anything that you would use in normal JavaScript, so like mouse events or scrolling, that kind of thing, you can look for that and then do things to your SVG on those events. You’ve also got SVG specific methods and stuff, like get PATHlink I think is one, stuff like that so there’s specific SVG methods that you can kind of play around with.

Drew: So you could do things for example, like start an animation as an SVG comes into view on the page if it’s scrolled out of place and stop it when it gets scrolled away and restart it if it comes back into view and that sort of thing.

Cassie: Yeah. There’s actually a new GreenSock plugin called ScrollTrigger and previously I think a lot of people have used ScrollMagic for scroll animations, but that was a different library to GreenSocks, so they had no kind of affiliation with each other so you were just mashing together two different libraries, one that did animation and one that did scroll events. Whereas GreenSock have now just made a scrolling plugin that works with GreenSock and it has one event listener. One scroll listener. Yeah. So it’s very, very performance and I’ve played around with it recently and it’s great. It’s really easy to use.

Drew: Is that automatically buffered so you’re not completely overrun with scroll events being fired at your code and all those sorts of traditional problems?

Cassie: Yeah all of the traditional problems, they’re kind of doing all the heavy lifting in the background for you, which is good.

Drew: Fantastic. Would GreenSock be the tool then, the sort of library, that you’d recommend people to start using if they were looking at SVG animation?

Cassie: Yes, definitely. Mostly because GreenSock, it’s the only animation library out there that handles SVG transforms consistently cross-browser and that isn’t just something that they do that they’re not focusing on anymore. It’s a constant effort from their part so they’re constantly kind of looking for SVG bugs and fixing things. So it’s very reliable. Definitely.

Drew: What is the sort of cross-browser situation like with SVG? Is it fairly reliable or are you constantly having to deal with inconsistencies across different browsers and platforms?

Cassie: If you are animating with GreenSock then you don’t. If you are animating with CSS, yeah there’s quite a few inconsistencies. It’s mostly to do with how transforms are handled. So with HTML DOM elements transforms are measured from the center of them, and with SVG transforms are measured from the top left hand corner, but in some browsers it’s the top left hand corner of the element itself, and in other browsers it’s the top left hand corner of the SVG view box parent. So you can end up, if you’re rotating things around in some browsers, they might end up going in a different trajectory than others.

Drew: That sounds like most of the animation I’ve ever tried to script. Things going in unexpected directions. We’re used to sort of traditional animation tools, having things like easing options, ease in ease out and that sort of stuff. Presumably that’s something that GreenSock then brings to the table.

Cassie: Yeah. GreenSocks got a lot of really good easing equations that you can use. Yeah, and they’ve got a great ease visualizer so you can have a little look at how will the eases work.

Drew: That’s really useful, and again that’s something I always struggle with. It’s like, I know I should do something. It shouldn’t just move linearly from A to B, but what do I do? So yeah, being able to visualize stuff is really handy.

Cassie: When I started making animations I made a lot of space animations because I hadn’t quite figured out how easing worked yet, so in space everything does move linearly because it’s just floating around. It doesn’t have gravity to contend with, so I made lots of rockets, planets bobbing around and it was fine.

Drew: I mean I guess you, being such an SVG enthusiast, you probably see people they’re putting SVG to all sorts of creative uses. What sort of things, just to get the juices flowing, what sort of things have you seen people do with SVGs that has been particularly impressive or creative?

Cassie: I think one of the things that I love with SVG is the fact that you don’t just have to use it for illustrative SVG animations by themselves because it is XML based markup, just like HTML. You can kind of mix it in with the HTML DOM. So, I think it’s a bit of a nerdy thing, but my favorite examples of SVG animation are when people mix SVG animation with semantic DOM elements, so when you have a button that is a proper button but it’s got some SVG icon illustration in it so that when you click that button something joyful happens, and I love that because it’s this perfect marriage of kind of whimsical joyfulness and proper semantic DOM elements.

Drew: You’ve said in the past that front end development has become very serious in recent times. Has all the fun gone out of the web Cassie?

Cassie: That’s a very serious question. Has all the fun gone out of the way.

Drew: Because things used to be a lot more fun, but maybe not as efficient and have we got too serious with it?

Cassie: Yeah. I think efficiency is a real killer when it comes to adding these little enhancements on. I find that in my day job at Clearleft, I quickly realized that if I wanted to have animations as an extra thing, as like another ticket or something, it was very hard to get sign off on that. It was always the thing that if the project starts being a little bit cramped on time, it’s the first thing to go. But I think that once you’ve got a good understanding of animation and SVG you can just sneak things in to start off with. So when you’re building a component and you see an opportunity for a little bit of animation and you can just add it in and it gets easier because then people start seeing the possibilities and people start realizing that the clients really like that kind of thing, and then you can kind of get a little bit more time to work on it.

Drew: It is the sort of thing that can just really elevate an experience beyond unsatisfactory or unsatisfying sort of boring transaction to something that gives the user just a little bit of joy and gives her a whole sort of perception of quality and some brand personality as well, I think with animation. There’s a…

Cassie: Yeah.

Drew: There’s a lot in terms of brand personality that can be put across with those sort of little touches.

Cassie: But I think this is something that a lot more people are realizing now as well, not just with SVG and animation, but personality in general, and I think that there’s a lot more weight that’s being given to copy that’s written well and has a bit of personality and illustrations that aren’t just from a stock library that are unique to that company or that person and animations are a big part of that. And I think that I personally feel like we’re seeing more of these websites nowadays and I think that we went through, and are probably still going through a little bit of efficiency first period, but I think as with anything people start getting bored of that and it does seem like a lot of websites suggest being churned out by some corporate mega machine and people are starting to push back, I think. Max Bock made a site recently called the whimsical web and it’s got a lot of personal sites on there that are really joyful for various different reasons and I think we’re starting to see a lot more of that.

Drew: Is it possible to go too far with adding animation and sort of too much personality perhaps to a site?

Cassie: Yes. Definitely. I’m not a huge fan of websites that are very, very, whizbang. Like websites that are animation first. You get to the page and everything’s moving and you’re trying to read text as you’re scrolling, but it’s moving while you’re trying to read it. I’m not a fan of that. I really like looking at animation as an enhancement and I think that’s why SVG, I think is so great because you can kind of build an otherwise quite sensible website, but you can have these little whimsical touches throughout it.

Drew: And it’s crucial, isn’t it, as we mentioned before, the accessibility sort of aspect of things that it is possible to create a nicely accessible SVG, even if it has sort of content, if you’re locked in there, it’s not locked. It’s accessible to screen readers and then hopefully to everyone who visits the site. As I say, it’s hard on a podcast to really get into the practicalities of, well, we can’t show animation or anything, but you’re running an online workshop with Smashing Conference all about SVG, aren’t you?

Cassie: Yes, I am.

Drew: It’s the SVG animation MasterClass and that starting on October the eighth and it’s quite an unusual format. It’s two hours on Thursdays and Fridays. That’s an unusual way to do things, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. I’m actually really happy about that because I’ve done a version of this workshop before. I spent a large part of 2019 putting it together. It was my baby, my passion project, and then I had quite a few workshops booked in and then the situation happened and all of them got canceled. So I got the opportunity to run it twice before the situation, and it was really great but it was a lot of content and it was a full day workshop. About eight hours and you could tell by the end of it people’s brains are just switching off because you’re sitting in a room trying to absorb information for eight hours. So I’m quite excited about this format because it means that I could divide it up into sections that kind of work by themselves and it gives people a chance to learn that and process it a little bit and let it sink in before they get the next load of information. So I think we’re going to get some really interesting things at the end of it just because people have had more time to absorb.

Drew: So it’s a Thursday and a Friday, a Thursday and a Friday, and then a Thursday to finish it off with two hours on each of those days followed by Q and A. I think that’s right, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: Q and A on each session. What would those attending expect to learn? What should their expectations be in terms of what skills they might pick up?

Cassie: So it’s more angled towards the animation coding side of SVG animation. So we’ll cover a little bit of getting SVGs out of a graphics editor, and then the whole process from getting the code out through to starting to work with it. So optimizing and adding the right classes and structuring it properly, and then we’ll work on animating SVGs. So we’ll be using CSS. We’ll also be using GreenSock, which is the animation library that I mentioned, and we’ll be covering what I kind of refer to as SVG super powers. So this is stuff that it’s, aside from the animation, it’s the things that you can do with SVG.

Cassie: So that’s like clipping, and masking, and stroke animation, and filters, and all of that stuff is just so important to understand with SVG because it unlocks all of these kinds of super powers that you can play with. And we’ll also look at performance and accessibility, and also a bunch of the kind of little tips that I’ve picked up and learned along the way. So, little handy tips that I find useful for my workflow, handy tips that help with flashes of unstyled content before you start animating. Little tips like that.

Drew: That sounds really useful. I looked just before we started our interview and there are still some early bird places available, which is great. So if people are quick they might still catch those and you can register at smashingconf.com. There’s actually a number of different master classes that are being run at the moment and there are early bird deals and bundled deals on some of them as well. So there’s things like JAMstack, CSS layout with Rachel Andrew, Vue.js, web performance, GraphQL, loads of different Masterclasses and you can find all those at smashingconf.com. So I’ve been learning all about SVG. What have you been learning about lately Cassie?

Cassie: Oh, I’ve been recently learning quite a lot about Eleventy. I did a little site redesign recently using Eleventy and I’ve also been doing Andy Bell’s Eleventy from scratch course. So I’m getting quite into static site generators in general at the moment.

Drew: That’s great. I think we’re all getting into static site generators more as time goes on.

Cassie: It’s the future.

Drew: If you dear listener, would like to hear more from Cassie you can of course sign up for this animation Masterclass with Smashing Conf, but also you can find her on Twitter where she’s @Cassiecodes and her personal website is cassie.codes and that links to her CodePen, which is a great place to explore. Thanks for joining us today Cassie. Do you have any parting words?

Cassie: I would like to say that Smashing and I are offering for free tickets to my workshop. So they are diversity tickets that are going out to anyone that’s underrepresented in tec or going through a tough financial time at the moment. So you can apply for that on the webpage about my workshop and I hope to see you there.

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Smashing Podcast Episode 24 With Cassie Evans: What Is SVG Animation?

We’re talking about SVG Animation. How can vector images, JavaScript and CSS all work together to provide engaging motion graphics? Drew McLellan talks to SVG expert Cassie Evans to find out.

Today we’re talking about SVG Animation. How can vector images, JavaScript and CSS all work together to provide engaging motion graphics? I spoke to SVG expert Cassie Evans to find out.

Show Notes

Weekly Update

Transcript

Drew McLellan: She is a front end developer and speaker with a background in graphic design and motion design. She got started with coding back in the days of MySpace and Neopets and is on a mission to make the web more whimsical again. She currently works at Clearleft in Brighton UK, and can usually be found tinkering with SVGs on CodePen. So we know she’s a skilled developer and SVG expert, but did you know she was National Junior Wing Walking Champion for three years in a row? My smashing friends, please welcome Cassie Evans. Hello Cassie. How are you?

Cassie Evans: I’m smashing, thank you.

Drew: I wanted to talk to you today about one of your passions, which is SVG, and in particular the animation side of things. I think most people listening to this podcast will have heard of Scalable Vector Graphics in some shape or form. I know I’ve used them heavily with things like logos and icons in recent years, but let’s not assume. So for anyone who isn’t really up to speed with SVG, what makes it different from other ways of adding graphics to a webpage?

Cassie: So, a lot of the clue’s in the name, of course. So, SVG stands for Scalable Vector Graphic. So, these are first the images that can be any size. You can make them really, really small or really, really big, and they’ll retain image quality and won’t get pixelated like JPEGs or PNGs.

Cassie: You can also make them really, really small, so small in file size. So, everyone’s kind of added a PNG to their site that’s a million megabytes and seen what that does to page load. So, you can add all sorts of cool illustrations and stuff to your site without impacting on performance too badly, and also you can animate them so that’s the most exciting bit. With JPEGs or PNGs, if you wanted to animate them or move bits of them around, you’d have to cut them out into little pieces or kind of layer them on top of each other, whereas with SVGs you’ve got actual elements in the SVG. It’s got a DOM structure just like HTML does.

Drew: So, I guess in a world of mobile devices with different screen sizes and different pixel densities and sort of constrained data connections, SVG really is a format that’s more suited to the modern web than the old graphic styles. Is that fair?

Cassie: Yes, definitely.

Drew: Most images are of course sort of binary based, but SVG is totally view sourcable, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. So, that’s really exciting because you can actually right click and view source on an SVG and you can traverse around the DOM and kind of see what you’ve got and kind of get to learn it that way, which I find that really great. It feels a lot like the old web, like being able to go to a website and view source on it and see how it’s put together.

Drew: SVG kind of feels more sort of native and integrated into the web than things like maybe Canvas or even back in the day Flash, which of course flash was scalable vector graphics, wasn’t it? In its own way. And those technologies feel very much like a black box that’s encased on the page that you can’t sort of get in or out of. SVG is a lot more integrated isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. It’s funny that you’d say that because I always refer to Canvas as a black box when people are asking whether they should use Canvas or SVG for something. I think a lot of the time, obviously it depends on the use case, but one of the things with Canvas is if you don’t have JavaScript for some reason, if your code fails, you end up with a little black box with nothing in it. So you could create this crazy infographic, all sorts of things going on inside this Canvas element, and then you just lose it all. Whereas SVG, it’s a lot more aligned with progressive enhancement, so you can have an animated SVG, maybe that’s animating using JavaScript, but then without JavaScript you will still have the illustration. You’ll still have the SVG there.

Drew: And SVG isn’t new to the web, is it? It’s been around for quite a while.

Cassie: It has, yes. It’s been around for longer than I’ve been doing stuff on the web.

Drew: And it certainly seems to be coming into its own a lot more with things like animation, like you’ve been saying, but also as we were mentioning, the way that it scales just makes it perfectly suited when we’re designing sites that might be viewed on a retina display with double the pixel density, or need to be delivered over a mobile connection where you want things to be as performant as possible. So we know SVG has got a DOM, you mentioned that. Does that mean that the things in it can be manipulated with code?

Cassie: Yes, so that’s the most exciting thing. You can get at SVG elements and you can animate them and move them around just like you can with HTML DOM elements, and it also means from an accessibility perspective, SVG has a DOM so you can traverse that DOM if you’re using a screen reader or something, so you can make SVG graphics very accessible to screen readers.

Drew: Yes, so I was going to ask about the situation with accessibility because classically, graphical stuff on a page is one of the most difficult things to make accessible. So are there sort of attributes that you can add to hint? Can you use the ARIA stuff in SVG or how does that work?

Cassie: Yeah. You can use ARIA labelledby, but you also have title and description tags that you can put inside an SVG.

Drew: That’s incredible and in terms of sort of motion preferences, because that’s something that we’ve seen recently with a media query in CSS to see that the user prefers reduced motion and you can change your animations and things based on that, is that something you can do in SVG or does it have to be implemented a little bit more manually?

Cassie: Well with SVG people often talk about SVG animation like it’s its own separate kind of special thing and of course we used to have SMIL. We still do have SMIL technically. It was getting deprecated, but it’s actually not being deprecated anymore. It’s just not really as widely used and not worked on anymore, but we used to have SMIL and that was what most people refer to as SVG animation. Whereas now, SVG animation could mean any of those things. It could mean SMIL, it could mean CSS animation, or it could mean animating using JavaScript or a JavaScript animation library. So, there’s lots of different options but with CSS animation and JavaScript animation the option to use prefers reduced motion is there and should definitely be used.

Drew: So you mentioned CSS animation and of course there’s a certain amount that we can do, like with HTML elements and CSS animation, to create graphics and motion on a page. SVG just like blows that out of the water in terms of flexibility doesn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah, definitely. I think people make amazing things with just CSS, like Lynn Fisher makes really amazing things. There’s all sorts of people making crazy CSS only illustrations, but it takes a lot of time and the handover for that is pretty impossible. Like if you imagine a designer giving you an illustration and asking you to recreate that in a CSS, that would be a large ticket. So SVG kind of makes it a lot more feasible to have these interdisciplinary teams and pass things over from one person to another. So you can have an illustrator or a designer create an illustration in a vector graphics program like Illustrator, and then they can pass that SVG over to a developer who can animate it.

Drew: And I suppose that would fit quite well into people’s established workflows. We’re using things like Git, because SVG is text-based, isn’t it? So presumably, committing SVGs into Git you get all that ability to diff and merge and all those sort of powerful features that you get with other text-based stuff. Is that right?

Cassie: Yeah, exactly.

Drew: So it’s kind of like, well I say kind of like, it absolutely is graphics expressed as code.

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: Isn’t it? SVG?

Cassie: It is.

Drew: And it’s quite a lot like HTML in its syntax. It’s another XML based language, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yep.

Drew: So it has tags and attributes and nested children and all that sort of stuff that your average web developer is going to be used to.

Cassie: I think that that’s what I love the most about SVG is I’m really into creative coding and also teaching people, and I found that teaching people who are more of a creative leaning, they sometimes get a little thrown off when you immediately jump in with JavaScript or Python or something like that for creative coding, but without fail I’ve managed to get anyone that I taught on board with SVG because it’s got this really approachable entry points because it does look like HTML. So, you can give someone with an understanding of HTML and how to build websites SVG, and it looks the same, but it’s the graphics instead of documents and then you can animate that with CSS to start off with which is also a little bit more comfortable, and then you can kind of progress to animating it with JavaScript. So it’s a really good learning curve.

Drew: And of course it can be dynamic. It’s not just a case of creating motion. You can actually make the properties of it dynamic. So, one of the interesting things I’ve seen SVG used for, and it’s a grand term, but like data visualization, DataViz, and drawing graphs and charts and of course things like dashboards that we seem to have everywhere these days. SVG is sort of perfect for that isn’t it?

Cassie: Yes, definitely. SVG is great for DataViz. All the way from kind of small DataViz up to D3 which is very well known DataViz library that uses SVG under the hood. But you could also just, if you’ve got a little bit of data that you wanted to show on a web page, you could create a chart in a graphics editing program and then you could just use JavaScript to change those values and kind of change how your graph looks. So you don’t have to go all in with a massive database library. You can kind of just start off small.

Drew: Obviously sort of traditional graphs and charts and things are just sort of the tip of the iceberg when it comes to ways that SVG can help with data visualization. I saw you had an interesting project that you did at Clearleft with your solar panels on the roof. Can you tell us a little bit about that?

Cassie: That project was actually meant to be me learning D3 and then I got very distracted. We have some solar panels on the roof of our office, which I miss thoroughly actually it’s been so long, but yeah we’ve got some solar panels on the roof and I found out shortly after starting working at Clearleft that we had an API that was attached to the solar panels that you could hook into. So I was like…

Drew: Amazing.

Cassie: Right. I need this to be my side project, and I had a little look at what we got back from the API and amongst the data there was the amount of CO2 saved and they measured the amount of CO2 in trees.

Drew: Okay.

Cassie: So I was immediately like, wow, well we’re going to have to plot this somehow, but I want to measure it in trees because that’s such an interesting way of plotting this. So, all of my D3 aspirations went out of the window and I sat down in illustrator and recreated an illustration of our office building and created a jungle of trees and plants and stuff, and then I’m looking at how much CO2 we have saved and then kind of growing in these plants and vines and stuff. Yeah, it’s great. It’s really good to check back occasionally as well and just see how much the jungle’s grown.

Drew: It’s an amazingly creative way of visualizing that data, whereas if you were relying on traditional software for creating graphs and charts and things, there’s never going to be a function to create an office building with trees on top. That that just doesn’t exist, but then using JavaScript and using SVG to be able to generate those graphics and using the JavaScript to manipulate them to adjust the values that are being shown, you can come up with something completely new in a completely novel way of communicating an idea to the person using the site. So, we know we can hand codes the markup for SVGs, which me as a developer, I think that sounds great because I can go in and I can be very precise, but that is probably a technical skill that isn’t going to suit everybody, particularly those whose strengths being more visually creative than actual coding. So are there other ways to author SVGs or do you have to just do it by hand and in a text editor?

Cassie: I think I wrote a hamburger icon once just from the top of my head and I was super proud of myself, but the rest of the time I create SVGs in Illustrator or other alternatives. Affinity designer is really good. Illustrator has obviously the Adobe pricing structure, which can be a little bit out of people’s budgets, but Affinity Designer is like a once off purchase and it’s pretty good actually, and the SVG markup that you get out of it is good which is the most important thing. But yeah, I don’t think there’s anyone apart from, it’s a guy called Blake Bowen on the GreenSock forums, and I think that he could probably hand write SVG path data, but I don’t think it’s a thing that everyone can do. I don’t think that it’s a thing that we should be aspiring to do. It’s quite verbose.

Drew: So being a lightweight by using a dedicated graphics tool to author SVGs, it’s a perfectly valid route.

Cassie: It’s fine. Choose your battles.

Drew: Are there any tools out there that are free for filtering SVGs or is it all commercial?

Cassie: I think Inkscape is free, but yeah, I would really recommend Affinity Designer. I think for the kind of cheaper tier, I think it’s worth paying a little bit of money towards these tools because it can be quite frustrating working with clunky vector graphics tooling.

Drew: In terms of the output, the SVG output that you get from these tools, is it all the same? Do they all just basically generate the same SVG or some better than others?

Cassie: Yeah, that’s a very good question. I find Illustrator is a lot better than other tools, but it’s not something that should hold you back or make you feel like you need to spend that money. So at the end of the day you’ll get some markup out, some editors you might need to do a little more tweaking than others but most of them you will get workable SVG code out of it.

Drew: I’ve found personally when I’ve tried to create SVGs, and I’m not graphically skilled, that I get varying results depending on how I actually draw something in say Illustrator. Presumably when it comes to thinking about how something’s going to be animated, it matters more how you construct your shapes in the editors. Is that fair?

Cassie: Yeah, definitely. Also SVG has an implicit drawing order, so it’s not like HTML. So with HTML, you can use that index to kind of move things around and put things underneath or on top of other things, whereas with SVG the order that it is in the code will be the order that it is displayed on the web page. So that’s something to kind of keep in mind when you’re drawing out an SVG is getting your layers in the right order and then anything that you want to move as one unit you should wrap in a group and anything that you want to move separately from something else you need to make sure that it’s actually a separate shape.

Drew: Yeah, so I mean by getting your layers in order there you’re literally talking about the layers palette in Illustrator and dragging the things around before you export, is that right? Just getting them in the correct order and then exporting.

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: And once you have exported it are there tools that will help sort of optimize or, because I know with PNGs, there’s a whole load of things I use to cut all the craft out of the file and reduce the file size. Are there’s similar things for SVG?

Cassie: Yeah. There’s a tool called SVGOMG, which I use a lot, which is great and you can use that for batch processing. There’s terminal commands for it, but you can also, there’s a Gooey in the browser, which I really like for large illustrative SVGs because I think it’s nice to build it into, say your build process, if you’re dealing with a huge load of icons that you all want processed in the same way, but if you’re dealing with an illustrative SVG, it’s nice to be able to use the gooey because you can flip between the code view and the visual view and you can just make sure that the things that you’re changing in the settings aren’t visually affecting your SVG in a negative way and aren’t affecting the code in a way that you don’t want it to.

Drew: Presumably these tools, things like Illustrator, are great for creating graphics, but they’re not going to help us at all with animation are they? That all happens once we get the SVG and put it into a webpage.

Cassie: Yeah.

Drew: So what does that process look like? I mean, obviously it’s difficult to talk about animation too much on an audio podcast, but in terms of just the sort of process you’d go through. You put your SVG into a page, what happens then? How do you address parts of it or what do you do to start working with it?

Cassie: So it’s very similar to animating HTML DOM elements in that you need to be able to target the elements themselves. So that would involve putting classes or IDs on them so that you can target them, and then you can either use CSS for animation. There are some issues with transforms with CSS that are still kind of being ironed out a little bit. So I tend to recommend CSS for experimenting and playing with SVG animation. When it comes to SVG animation and production I will usually recommend GreenSock, which is a JavaScript animation library, and yeah, well with GreenSock and with CSS you basically just get the SVG elements and then do stuff to them.

Drew: So do you have full access to interacting with the complete range of JavaScript APIs and things like scroll events and mouse events and resizing and intersection and that whole browser environment presumably you’ve got at your disposal, to then have your animation interact with and respond to.

Cassie: Yeah. So anything that you would use in normal JavaScript, so like mouse events or scrolling, that kind of thing, you can look for that and then do things to your SVG on those events. You’ve also got SVG specific methods and stuff, like get PATHlink I think is one, stuff like that so there’s specific SVG methods that you can kind of play around with.

Drew: So you could do things for example, like start an animation as an SVG comes into view on the page if it’s scrolled out of place and stop it when it gets scrolled away and restart it if it comes back into view and that sort of thing.

Cassie: Yeah. There’s actually a new GreenSock plugin called ScrollTrigger and previously I think a lot of people have used ScrollMagic for scroll animations, but that was a different library to GreenSocks, so they had no kind of affiliation with each other so you were just mashing together two different libraries, one that did animation and one that did scroll events. Whereas GreenSock have now just made a scrolling plugin that works with GreenSock and it has one event listener. One scroll listener. Yeah. So it’s very, very performance and I’ve played around with it recently and it’s great. It’s really easy to use.

Drew: Is that automatically buffered so you’re not completely overrun with scroll events being fired at your code and all those sorts of traditional problems?

Cassie: Yeah all of the traditional problems, they’re kind of doing all the heavy lifting in the background for you, which is good.

Drew: Fantastic. Would GreenSock be the tool then, the sort of library, that you’d recommend people to start using if they were looking at SVG animation?

Cassie: Yes, definitely. Mostly because GreenSock, it’s the only animation library out there that handles SVG transforms consistently cross-browser and that isn’t just something that they do that they’re not focusing on anymore. It’s a constant effort from their part so they’re constantly kind of looking for SVG bugs and fixing things. So it’s very reliable. Definitely.

Drew: What is the sort of cross-browser situation like with SVG? Is it fairly reliable or are you constantly having to deal with inconsistencies across different browsers and platforms?

Cassie: If you are animating with GreenSock then you don’t. If you are animating with CSS, yeah there’s quite a few inconsistencies. It’s mostly to do with how transforms are handled. So with HTML DOM elements transforms are measured from the center of them, and with SVG transforms are measured from the top left hand corner, but in some browsers it’s the top left hand corner of the element itself, and in other browsers it’s the top left hand corner of the SVG view box parent. So you can end up, if you’re rotating things around in some browsers, they might end up going in a different trajectory than others.

Drew: That sounds like most of the animation I’ve ever tried to script. Things going in unexpected directions. We’re used to sort of traditional animation tools, having things like easing options, ease in ease out and that sort of stuff. Presumably that’s something that GreenSock then brings to the table.

Cassie: Yeah. GreenSocks got a lot of really good easing equations that you can use. Yeah, and they’ve got a great ease visualizer so you can have a little look at how will the eases work.

Drew: That’s really useful, and again that’s something I always struggle with. It’s like, I know I should do something. It shouldn’t just move linearly from A to B, but what do I do? So yeah, being able to visualize stuff is really handy.

Cassie: When I started making animations I made a lot of space animations because I hadn’t quite figured out how easing worked yet, so in space everything does move linearly because it’s just floating around. It doesn’t have gravity to contend with, so I made lots of rockets, planets bobbing around and it was fine.

Drew: I mean I guess you, being such an SVG enthusiast, you probably see people they’re putting SVG to all sorts of creative uses. What sort of things, just to get the juices flowing, what sort of things have you seen people do with SVGs that has been particularly impressive or creative?

Cassie: I think one of the things that I love with SVG is the fact that you don’t just have to use it for illustrative SVG animations by themselves because it is XML based markup, just like HTML. You can kind of mix it in with the HTML DOM. So, I think it’s a bit of a nerdy thing, but my favorite examples of SVG animation are when people mix SVG animation with semantic DOM elements, so when you have a button that is a proper button but it’s got some SVG icon illustration in it so that when you click that button something joyful happens, and I love that because it’s this perfect marriage of kind of whimsical joyfulness and proper semantic DOM elements.

Drew: You’ve said in the past that front end development has become very serious in recent times. Has all the fun gone out of the web Cassie?

Cassie: That’s a very serious question. Has all the fun gone out of the way.

Drew: Because things used to be a lot more fun, but maybe not as efficient and have we got too serious with it?

Cassie: Yeah. I think efficiency is a real killer when it comes to adding these little enhancements on. I find that in my day job at Clearleft, I quickly realized that if I wanted to have animations as an extra thing, as like another ticket or something, it was very hard to get sign off on that. It was always the thing that if the project starts being a little bit cramped on time, it’s the first thing to go. But I think that once you’ve got a good understanding of animation and SVG you can just sneak things in to start off with. So when you’re building a component and you see an opportunity for a little bit of animation and you can just add it in and it gets easier because then people start seeing the possibilities and people start realizing that the clients really like that kind of thing, and then you can kind of get a little bit more time to work on it.

Drew: It is the sort of thing that can just really elevate an experience beyond unsatisfactory or unsatisfying sort of boring transaction to something that gives the user just a little bit of joy and gives her a whole sort of perception of quality and some brand personality as well, I think with animation. There’s a…

Cassie: Yeah.

Drew: There’s a lot in terms of brand personality that can be put across with those sort of little touches.

Cassie: But I think this is something that a lot more people are realizing now as well, not just with SVG and animation, but personality in general, and I think that there’s a lot more weight that’s being given to copy that’s written well and has a bit of personality and illustrations that aren’t just from a stock library that are unique to that company or that person and animations are a big part of that. And I think that I personally feel like we’re seeing more of these websites nowadays and I think that we went through, and are probably still going through a little bit of efficiency first period, but I think as with anything people start getting bored of that and it does seem like a lot of websites suggest being churned out by some corporate mega machine and people are starting to push back, I think. Max Bock made a site recently called the whimsical web and it’s got a lot of personal sites on there that are really joyful for various different reasons and I think we’re starting to see a lot more of that.

Drew: Is it possible to go too far with adding animation and sort of too much personality perhaps to a site?

Cassie: Yes. Definitely. I’m not a huge fan of websites that are very, very, whizbang. Like websites that are animation first. You get to the page and everything’s moving and you’re trying to read text as you’re scrolling, but it’s moving while you’re trying to read it. I’m not a fan of that. I really like looking at animation as an enhancement and I think that’s why SVG, I think is so great because you can kind of build an otherwise quite sensible website, but you can have these little whimsical touches throughout it.

Drew: And it’s crucial, isn’t it, as we mentioned before, the accessibility sort of aspect of things that it is possible to create a nicely accessible SVG, even if it has sort of content, if you’re locked in there, it’s not locked. It’s accessible to screen readers and then hopefully to everyone who visits the site. As I say, it’s hard on a podcast to really get into the practicalities of, well, we can’t show animation or anything, but you’re running an online workshop with Smashing Conference all about SVG, aren’t you?

Cassie: Yes, I am.

Drew: It’s the SVG animation MasterClass and that starting on October the eighth and it’s quite an unusual format. It’s two hours on Thursdays and Fridays. That’s an unusual way to do things, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. I’m actually really happy about that because I’ve done a version of this workshop before. I spent a large part of 2019 putting it together. It was my baby, my passion project, and then I had quite a few workshops booked in and then the situation happened and all of them got canceled. So I got the opportunity to run it twice before the situation, and it was really great but it was a lot of content and it was a full day workshop. About eight hours and you could tell by the end of it people’s brains are just switching off because you’re sitting in a room trying to absorb information for eight hours. So I’m quite excited about this format because it means that I could divide it up into sections that kind of work by themselves and it gives people a chance to learn that and process it a little bit and let it sink in before they get the next load of information. So I think we’re going to get some really interesting things at the end of it just because people have had more time to absorb.

Drew: So it’s a Thursday and a Friday, a Thursday and a Friday, and then a Thursday to finish it off with two hours on each of those days followed by Q and A. I think that’s right, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: Q and A on each session. What would those attending expect to learn? What should their expectations be in terms of what skills they might pick up?

Cassie: So it’s more angled towards the animation coding side of SVG animation. So we’ll cover a little bit of getting SVGs out of a graphics editor, and then the whole process from getting the code out through to starting to work with it. So optimizing and adding the right classes and structuring it properly, and then we’ll work on animating SVGs. So we’ll be using CSS. We’ll also be using GreenSock, which is the animation library that I mentioned, and we’ll be covering what I kind of refer to as SVG super powers. So this is stuff that it’s, aside from the animation, it’s the things that you can do with SVG.

Cassie: So that’s like clipping, and masking, and stroke animation, and filters, and all of that stuff is just so important to understand with SVG because it unlocks all of these kinds of super powers that you can play with. And we’ll also look at performance and accessibility, and also a bunch of the kind of little tips that I’ve picked up and learned along the way. So, little handy tips that I find useful for my workflow, handy tips that help with flashes of unstyled content before you start animating. Little tips like that.

Drew: That sounds really useful. I looked just before we started our interview and there are still some early bird places available, which is great. So if people are quick they might still catch those and you can register at smashingconf.com. There’s actually a number of different master classes that are being run at the moment and there are early bird deals and bundled deals on some of them as well. So there’s things like JAMstack, CSS layout with Rachel Andrew, Vue.js, web performance, GraphQL, loads of different Masterclasses and you can find all those at smashingconf.com. So I’ve been learning all about SVG. What have you been learning about lately Cassie?

Cassie: Oh, I’ve been recently learning quite a lot about Eleventy. I did a little site redesign recently using Eleventy and I’ve also been doing Andy Bell’s Eleventy from scratch course. So I’m getting quite into static site generators in general at the moment.

Drew: That’s great. I think we’re all getting into static site generators more as time goes on.

Cassie: It’s the future.

Drew: If you dear listener, would like to hear more from Cassie you can of course sign up for this animation Masterclass with Smashing Conf, but also you can find her on Twitter where she’s @Cassiecodes and her personal website is cassie.codes and that links to her CodePen, which is a great place to explore. Thanks for joining us today Cassie. Do you have any parting words?

Cassie: I would like to say that Smashing and I are offering for free tickets to my workshop. So they are diversity tickets that are going out to anyone that’s underrepresented in tec or going through a tough financial time at the moment. So you can apply for that on the webpage about my workshop and I hope to see you there.

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Smashing Podcast Episode 24 With Cassie Evans: What Is SVG Animation?

We’re talking about SVG Animation. How can vector images, JavaScript and CSS all work together to provide engaging motion graphics? Drew McLellan talks to SVG expert Cassie Evans to find out.

Today we’re talking about SVG Animation. How can vector images, JavaScript and CSS all work together to provide engaging motion graphics? I spoke to SVG expert Cassie Evans to find out.

Show Notes

Weekly Update

Transcript

Drew McLellan: She is a front end developer and speaker with a background in graphic design and motion design. She got started with coding back in the days of MySpace and Neopets and is on a mission to make the web more whimsical again. She currently works at Clearleft in Brighton UK, and can usually be found tinkering with SVGs on CodePen. So we know she’s a skilled developer and SVG expert, but did you know she was National Junior Wing Walking Champion for three years in a row? My smashing friends, please welcome Cassie Evans. Hello Cassie. How are you?

Cassie Evans: I’m smashing, thank you.

Drew: I wanted to talk to you today about one of your passions, which is SVG, and in particular the animation side of things. I think most people listening to this podcast will have heard of Scalable Vector Graphics in some shape or form. I know I’ve used them heavily with things like logos and icons in recent years, but let’s not assume. So for anyone who isn’t really up to speed with SVG, what makes it different from other ways of adding graphics to a webpage?

Cassie: So, a lot of the clue’s in the name, of course. So, SVG stands for Scalable Vector Graphic. So, these are first the images that can be any size. You can make them really, really small or really, really big, and they’ll retain image quality and won’t get pixelated like JPEGs or PNGs.

Cassie: You can also make them really, really small, so small in file size. So, everyone’s kind of added a PNG to their site that’s a million megabytes and seen what that does to page load. So, you can add all sorts of cool illustrations and stuff to your site without impacting on performance too badly, and also you can animate them so that’s the most exciting bit. With JPEGs or PNGs, if you wanted to animate them or move bits of them around, you’d have to cut them out into little pieces or kind of layer them on top of each other, whereas with SVGs you’ve got actual elements in the SVG. It’s got a DOM structure just like HTML does.

Drew: So, I guess in a world of mobile devices with different screen sizes and different pixel densities and sort of constrained data connections, SVG really is a format that’s more suited to the modern web than the old graphic styles. Is that fair?

Cassie: Yes, definitely.

Drew: Most images are of course sort of binary based, but SVG is totally view sourcable, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. So, that’s really exciting because you can actually right click and view source on an SVG and you can traverse around the DOM and kind of see what you’ve got and kind of get to learn it that way, which I find that really great. It feels a lot like the old web, like being able to go to a website and view source on it and see how it’s put together.

Drew: SVG kind of feels more sort of native and integrated into the web than things like maybe Canvas or even back in the day Flash, which of course flash was scalable vector graphics, wasn’t it? In its own way. And those technologies feel very much like a black box that’s encased on the page that you can’t sort of get in or out of. SVG is a lot more integrated isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. It’s funny that you’d say that because I always refer to Canvas as a black box when people are asking whether they should use Canvas or SVG for something. I think a lot of the time, obviously it depends on the use case, but one of the things with Canvas is if you don’t have JavaScript for some reason, if your code fails, you end up with a little black box with nothing in it. So you could create this crazy infographic, all sorts of things going on inside this Canvas element, and then you just lose it all. Whereas SVG, it’s a lot more aligned with progressive enhancement, so you can have an animated SVG, maybe that’s animating using JavaScript, but then without JavaScript you will still have the illustration. You’ll still have the SVG there.

Drew: And SVG isn’t new to the web, is it? It’s been around for quite a while.

Cassie: It has, yes. It’s been around for longer than I’ve been doing stuff on the web.

Drew: And it certainly seems to be coming into its own a lot more with things like animation, like you’ve been saying, but also as we were mentioning, the way that it scales just makes it perfectly suited when we’re designing sites that might be viewed on a retina display with double the pixel density, or need to be delivered over a mobile connection where you want things to be as performant as possible. So we know SVG has got a DOM, you mentioned that. Does that mean that the things in it can be manipulated with code?

Cassie: Yes, so that’s the most exciting thing. You can get at SVG elements and you can animate them and move them around just like you can with HTML DOM elements, and it also means from an accessibility perspective, SVG has a DOM so you can traverse that DOM if you’re using a screen reader or something, so you can make SVG graphics very accessible to screen readers.

Drew: Yes, so I was going to ask about the situation with accessibility because classically, graphical stuff on a page is one of the most difficult things to make accessible. So are there sort of attributes that you can add to hint? Can you use the ARIA stuff in SVG or how does that work?

Cassie: Yeah. You can use ARIA labelledby, but you also have title and description tags that you can put inside an SVG.

Drew: That’s incredible and in terms of sort of motion preferences, because that’s something that we’ve seen recently with a media query in CSS to see that the user prefers reduced motion and you can change your animations and things based on that, is that something you can do in SVG or does it have to be implemented a little bit more manually?

Cassie: Well with SVG people often talk about SVG animation like it’s its own separate kind of special thing and of course we used to have SMIL. We still do have SMIL technically. It was getting deprecated, but it’s actually not being deprecated anymore. It’s just not really as widely used and not worked on anymore, but we used to have SMIL and that was what most people refer to as SVG animation. Whereas now, SVG animation could mean any of those things. It could mean SMIL, it could mean CSS animation, or it could mean animating using JavaScript or a JavaScript animation library. So, there’s lots of different options but with CSS animation and JavaScript animation the option to use prefers reduced motion is there and should definitely be used.

Drew: So you mentioned CSS animation and of course there’s a certain amount that we can do, like with HTML elements and CSS animation, to create graphics and motion on a page. SVG just like blows that out of the water in terms of flexibility doesn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah, definitely. I think people make amazing things with just CSS, like Lynn Fisher makes really amazing things. There’s all sorts of people making crazy CSS only illustrations, but it takes a lot of time and the handover for that is pretty impossible. Like if you imagine a designer giving you an illustration and asking you to recreate that in a CSS, that would be a large ticket. So SVG kind of makes it a lot more feasible to have these interdisciplinary teams and pass things over from one person to another. So you can have an illustrator or a designer create an illustration in a vector graphics program like Illustrator, and then they can pass that SVG over to a developer who can animate it.

Drew: And I suppose that would fit quite well into people’s established workflows. We’re using things like Git, because SVG is text-based, isn’t it? So presumably, committing SVGs into Git you get all that ability to diff and merge and all those sort of powerful features that you get with other text-based stuff. Is that right?

Cassie: Yeah, exactly.

Drew: So it’s kind of like, well I say kind of like, it absolutely is graphics expressed as code.

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: Isn’t it? SVG?

Cassie: It is.

Drew: And it’s quite a lot like HTML in its syntax. It’s another XML based language, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yep.

Drew: So it has tags and attributes and nested children and all that sort of stuff that your average web developer is going to be used to.

Cassie: I think that that’s what I love the most about SVG is I’m really into creative coding and also teaching people, and I found that teaching people who are more of a creative leaning, they sometimes get a little thrown off when you immediately jump in with JavaScript or Python or something like that for creative coding, but without fail I’ve managed to get anyone that I taught on board with SVG because it’s got this really approachable entry points because it does look like HTML. So, you can give someone with an understanding of HTML and how to build websites SVG, and it looks the same, but it’s the graphics instead of documents and then you can animate that with CSS to start off with which is also a little bit more comfortable, and then you can kind of progress to animating it with JavaScript. So it’s a really good learning curve.

Drew: And of course it can be dynamic. It’s not just a case of creating motion. You can actually make the properties of it dynamic. So, one of the interesting things I’ve seen SVG used for, and it’s a grand term, but like data visualization, DataViz, and drawing graphs and charts and of course things like dashboards that we seem to have everywhere these days. SVG is sort of perfect for that isn’t it?

Cassie: Yes, definitely. SVG is great for DataViz. All the way from kind of small DataViz up to D3 which is very well known DataViz library that uses SVG under the hood. But you could also just, if you’ve got a little bit of data that you wanted to show on a web page, you could create a chart in a graphics editing program and then you could just use JavaScript to change those values and kind of change how your graph looks. So you don’t have to go all in with a massive database library. You can kind of just start off small.

Drew: Obviously sort of traditional graphs and charts and things are just sort of the tip of the iceberg when it comes to ways that SVG can help with data visualization. I saw you had an interesting project that you did at Clearleft with your solar panels on the roof. Can you tell us a little bit about that?

Cassie: That project was actually meant to be me learning D3 and then I got very distracted. We have some solar panels on the roof of our office, which I miss thoroughly actually it’s been so long, but yeah we’ve got some solar panels on the roof and I found out shortly after starting working at Clearleft that we had an API that was attached to the solar panels that you could hook into. So I was like…

Drew: Amazing.

Cassie: Right. I need this to be my side project, and I had a little look at what we got back from the API and amongst the data there was the amount of CO2 saved and they measured the amount of CO2 in trees.

Drew: Okay.

Cassie: So I was immediately like, wow, well we’re going to have to plot this somehow, but I want to measure it in trees because that’s such an interesting way of plotting this. So, all of my D3 aspirations went out of the window and I sat down in illustrator and recreated an illustration of our office building and created a jungle of trees and plants and stuff, and then I’m looking at how much CO2 we have saved and then kind of growing in these plants and vines and stuff. Yeah, it’s great. It’s really good to check back occasionally as well and just see how much the jungle’s grown.

Drew: It’s an amazingly creative way of visualizing that data, whereas if you were relying on traditional software for creating graphs and charts and things, there’s never going to be a function to create an office building with trees on top. That that just doesn’t exist, but then using JavaScript and using SVG to be able to generate those graphics and using the JavaScript to manipulate them to adjust the values that are being shown, you can come up with something completely new in a completely novel way of communicating an idea to the person using the site. So, we know we can hand codes the markup for SVGs, which me as a developer, I think that sounds great because I can go in and I can be very precise, but that is probably a technical skill that isn’t going to suit everybody, particularly those whose strengths being more visually creative than actual coding. So are there other ways to author SVGs or do you have to just do it by hand and in a text editor?

Cassie: I think I wrote a hamburger icon once just from the top of my head and I was super proud of myself, but the rest of the time I create SVGs in Illustrator or other alternatives. Affinity designer is really good. Illustrator has obviously the Adobe pricing structure, which can be a little bit out of people’s budgets, but Affinity Designer is like a once off purchase and it’s pretty good actually, and the SVG markup that you get out of it is good which is the most important thing. But yeah, I don’t think there’s anyone apart from, it’s a guy called Blake Bowen on the GreenSock forums, and I think that he could probably hand write SVG path data, but I don’t think it’s a thing that everyone can do. I don’t think that it’s a thing that we should be aspiring to do. It’s quite verbose.

Drew: So being a lightweight by using a dedicated graphics tool to author SVGs, it’s a perfectly valid route.

Cassie: It’s fine. Choose your battles.

Drew: Are there any tools out there that are free for filtering SVGs or is it all commercial?

Cassie: I think Inkscape is free, but yeah, I would really recommend Affinity Designer. I think for the kind of cheaper tier, I think it’s worth paying a little bit of money towards these tools because it can be quite frustrating working with clunky vector graphics tooling.

Drew: In terms of the output, the SVG output that you get from these tools, is it all the same? Do they all just basically generate the same SVG or some better than others?

Cassie: Yeah, that’s a very good question. I find Illustrator is a lot better than other tools, but it’s not something that should hold you back or make you feel like you need to spend that money. So at the end of the day you’ll get some markup out, some editors you might need to do a little more tweaking than others but most of them you will get workable SVG code out of it.

Drew: I’ve found personally when I’ve tried to create SVGs, and I’m not graphically skilled, that I get varying results depending on how I actually draw something in say Illustrator. Presumably when it comes to thinking about how something’s going to be animated, it matters more how you construct your shapes in the editors. Is that fair?

Cassie: Yeah, definitely. Also SVG has an implicit drawing order, so it’s not like HTML. So with HTML, you can use that index to kind of move things around and put things underneath or on top of other things, whereas with SVG the order that it is in the code will be the order that it is displayed on the web page. So that’s something to kind of keep in mind when you’re drawing out an SVG is getting your layers in the right order and then anything that you want to move as one unit you should wrap in a group and anything that you want to move separately from something else you need to make sure that it’s actually a separate shape.

Drew: Yeah, so I mean by getting your layers in order there you’re literally talking about the layers palette in Illustrator and dragging the things around before you export, is that right? Just getting them in the correct order and then exporting.

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: And once you have exported it are there tools that will help sort of optimize or, because I know with PNGs, there’s a whole load of things I use to cut all the craft out of the file and reduce the file size. Are there’s similar things for SVG?

Cassie: Yeah. There’s a tool called SVGOMG, which I use a lot, which is great and you can use that for batch processing. There’s terminal commands for it, but you can also, there’s a Gooey in the browser, which I really like for large illustrative SVGs because I think it’s nice to build it into, say your build process, if you’re dealing with a huge load of icons that you all want processed in the same way, but if you’re dealing with an illustrative SVG, it’s nice to be able to use the gooey because you can flip between the code view and the visual view and you can just make sure that the things that you’re changing in the settings aren’t visually affecting your SVG in a negative way and aren’t affecting the code in a way that you don’t want it to.

Drew: Presumably these tools, things like Illustrator, are great for creating graphics, but they’re not going to help us at all with animation are they? That all happens once we get the SVG and put it into a webpage.

Cassie: Yeah.

Drew: So what does that process look like? I mean, obviously it’s difficult to talk about animation too much on an audio podcast, but in terms of just the sort of process you’d go through. You put your SVG into a page, what happens then? How do you address parts of it or what do you do to start working with it?

Cassie: So it’s very similar to animating HTML DOM elements in that you need to be able to target the elements themselves. So that would involve putting classes or IDs on them so that you can target them, and then you can either use CSS for animation. There are some issues with transforms with CSS that are still kind of being ironed out a little bit. So I tend to recommend CSS for experimenting and playing with SVG animation. When it comes to SVG animation and production I will usually recommend GreenSock, which is a JavaScript animation library, and yeah, well with GreenSock and with CSS you basically just get the SVG elements and then do stuff to them.

Drew: So do you have full access to interacting with the complete range of JavaScript APIs and things like scroll events and mouse events and resizing and intersection and that whole browser environment presumably you’ve got at your disposal, to then have your animation interact with and respond to.

Cassie: Yeah. So anything that you would use in normal JavaScript, so like mouse events or scrolling, that kind of thing, you can look for that and then do things to your SVG on those events. You’ve also got SVG specific methods and stuff, like get PATHlink I think is one, stuff like that so there’s specific SVG methods that you can kind of play around with.

Drew: So you could do things for example, like start an animation as an SVG comes into view on the page if it’s scrolled out of place and stop it when it gets scrolled away and restart it if it comes back into view and that sort of thing.

Cassie: Yeah. There’s actually a new GreenSock plugin called ScrollTrigger and previously I think a lot of people have used ScrollMagic for scroll animations, but that was a different library to GreenSocks, so they had no kind of affiliation with each other so you were just mashing together two different libraries, one that did animation and one that did scroll events. Whereas GreenSock have now just made a scrolling plugin that works with GreenSock and it has one event listener. One scroll listener. Yeah. So it’s very, very performance and I’ve played around with it recently and it’s great. It’s really easy to use.

Drew: Is that automatically buffered so you’re not completely overrun with scroll events being fired at your code and all those sorts of traditional problems?

Cassie: Yeah all of the traditional problems, they’re kind of doing all the heavy lifting in the background for you, which is good.

Drew: Fantastic. Would GreenSock be the tool then, the sort of library, that you’d recommend people to start using if they were looking at SVG animation?

Cassie: Yes, definitely. Mostly because GreenSock, it’s the only animation library out there that handles SVG transforms consistently cross-browser and that isn’t just something that they do that they’re not focusing on anymore. It’s a constant effort from their part so they’re constantly kind of looking for SVG bugs and fixing things. So it’s very reliable. Definitely.

Drew: What is the sort of cross-browser situation like with SVG? Is it fairly reliable or are you constantly having to deal with inconsistencies across different browsers and platforms?

Cassie: If you are animating with GreenSock then you don’t. If you are animating with CSS, yeah there’s quite a few inconsistencies. It’s mostly to do with how transforms are handled. So with HTML DOM elements transforms are measured from the center of them, and with SVG transforms are measured from the top left hand corner, but in some browsers it’s the top left hand corner of the element itself, and in other browsers it’s the top left hand corner of the SVG view box parent. So you can end up, if you’re rotating things around in some browsers, they might end up going in a different trajectory than others.

Drew: That sounds like most of the animation I’ve ever tried to script. Things going in unexpected directions. We’re used to sort of traditional animation tools, having things like easing options, ease in ease out and that sort of stuff. Presumably that’s something that GreenSock then brings to the table.

Cassie: Yeah. GreenSocks got a lot of really good easing equations that you can use. Yeah, and they’ve got a great ease visualizer so you can have a little look at how will the eases work.

Drew: That’s really useful, and again that’s something I always struggle with. It’s like, I know I should do something. It shouldn’t just move linearly from A to B, but what do I do? So yeah, being able to visualize stuff is really handy.

Cassie: When I started making animations I made a lot of space animations because I hadn’t quite figured out how easing worked yet, so in space everything does move linearly because it’s just floating around. It doesn’t have gravity to contend with, so I made lots of rockets, planets bobbing around and it was fine.

Drew: I mean I guess you, being such an SVG enthusiast, you probably see people they’re putting SVG to all sorts of creative uses. What sort of things, just to get the juices flowing, what sort of things have you seen people do with SVGs that has been particularly impressive or creative?

Cassie: I think one of the things that I love with SVG is the fact that you don’t just have to use it for illustrative SVG animations by themselves because it is XML based markup, just like HTML. You can kind of mix it in with the HTML DOM. So, I think it’s a bit of a nerdy thing, but my favorite examples of SVG animation are when people mix SVG animation with semantic DOM elements, so when you have a button that is a proper button but it’s got some SVG icon illustration in it so that when you click that button something joyful happens, and I love that because it’s this perfect marriage of kind of whimsical joyfulness and proper semantic DOM elements.

Drew: You’ve said in the past that front end development has become very serious in recent times. Has all the fun gone out of the web Cassie?

Cassie: That’s a very serious question. Has all the fun gone out of the way.

Drew: Because things used to be a lot more fun, but maybe not as efficient and have we got too serious with it?

Cassie: Yeah. I think efficiency is a real killer when it comes to adding these little enhancements on. I find that in my day job at Clearleft, I quickly realized that if I wanted to have animations as an extra thing, as like another ticket or something, it was very hard to get sign off on that. It was always the thing that if the project starts being a little bit cramped on time, it’s the first thing to go. But I think that once you’ve got a good understanding of animation and SVG you can just sneak things in to start off with. So when you’re building a component and you see an opportunity for a little bit of animation and you can just add it in and it gets easier because then people start seeing the possibilities and people start realizing that the clients really like that kind of thing, and then you can kind of get a little bit more time to work on it.

Drew: It is the sort of thing that can just really elevate an experience beyond unsatisfactory or unsatisfying sort of boring transaction to something that gives the user just a little bit of joy and gives her a whole sort of perception of quality and some brand personality as well, I think with animation. There’s a…

Cassie: Yeah.

Drew: There’s a lot in terms of brand personality that can be put across with those sort of little touches.

Cassie: But I think this is something that a lot more people are realizing now as well, not just with SVG and animation, but personality in general, and I think that there’s a lot more weight that’s being given to copy that’s written well and has a bit of personality and illustrations that aren’t just from a stock library that are unique to that company or that person and animations are a big part of that. And I think that I personally feel like we’re seeing more of these websites nowadays and I think that we went through, and are probably still going through a little bit of efficiency first period, but I think as with anything people start getting bored of that and it does seem like a lot of websites suggest being churned out by some corporate mega machine and people are starting to push back, I think. Max Bock made a site recently called the whimsical web and it’s got a lot of personal sites on there that are really joyful for various different reasons and I think we’re starting to see a lot more of that.

Drew: Is it possible to go too far with adding animation and sort of too much personality perhaps to a site?

Cassie: Yes. Definitely. I’m not a huge fan of websites that are very, very, whizbang. Like websites that are animation first. You get to the page and everything’s moving and you’re trying to read text as you’re scrolling, but it’s moving while you’re trying to read it. I’m not a fan of that. I really like looking at animation as an enhancement and I think that’s why SVG, I think is so great because you can kind of build an otherwise quite sensible website, but you can have these little whimsical touches throughout it.

Drew: And it’s crucial, isn’t it, as we mentioned before, the accessibility sort of aspect of things that it is possible to create a nicely accessible SVG, even if it has sort of content, if you’re locked in there, it’s not locked. It’s accessible to screen readers and then hopefully to everyone who visits the site. As I say, it’s hard on a podcast to really get into the practicalities of, well, we can’t show animation or anything, but you’re running an online workshop with Smashing Conference all about SVG, aren’t you?

Cassie: Yes, I am.

Drew: It’s the SVG animation MasterClass and that starting on October the eighth and it’s quite an unusual format. It’s two hours on Thursdays and Fridays. That’s an unusual way to do things, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yeah. I’m actually really happy about that because I’ve done a version of this workshop before. I spent a large part of 2019 putting it together. It was my baby, my passion project, and then I had quite a few workshops booked in and then the situation happened and all of them got canceled. So I got the opportunity to run it twice before the situation, and it was really great but it was a lot of content and it was a full day workshop. About eight hours and you could tell by the end of it people’s brains are just switching off because you’re sitting in a room trying to absorb information for eight hours. So I’m quite excited about this format because it means that I could divide it up into sections that kind of work by themselves and it gives people a chance to learn that and process it a little bit and let it sink in before they get the next load of information. So I think we’re going to get some really interesting things at the end of it just because people have had more time to absorb.

Drew: So it’s a Thursday and a Friday, a Thursday and a Friday, and then a Thursday to finish it off with two hours on each of those days followed by Q and A. I think that’s right, isn’t it?

Cassie: Yes.

Drew: Q and A on each session. What would those attending expect to learn? What should their expectations be in terms of what skills they might pick up?

Cassie: So it’s more angled towards the animation coding side of SVG animation. So we’ll cover a little bit of getting SVGs out of a graphics editor, and then the whole process from getting the code out through to starting to work with it. So optimizing and adding the right classes and structuring it properly, and then we’ll work on animating SVGs. So we’ll be using CSS. We’ll also be using GreenSock, which is the animation library that I mentioned, and we’ll be covering what I kind of refer to as SVG super powers. So this is stuff that it’s, aside from the animation, it’s the things that you can do with SVG.

Cassie: So that’s like clipping, and masking, and stroke animation, and filters, and all of that stuff is just so important to understand with SVG because it unlocks all of these kinds of super powers that you can play with. And we’ll also look at performance and accessibility, and also a bunch of the kind of little tips that I’ve picked up and learned along the way. So, little handy tips that I find useful for my workflow, handy tips that help with flashes of unstyled content before you start animating. Little tips like that.

Drew: That sounds really useful. I looked just before we started our interview and there are still some early bird places available, which is great. So if people are quick they might still catch those and you can register at smashingconf.com. There’s actually a number of different master classes that are being run at the moment and there are early bird deals and bundled deals on some of them as well. So there’s things like JAMstack, CSS layout with Rachel Andrew, Vue.js, web performance, GraphQL, loads of different Masterclasses and you can find all those at smashingconf.com. So I’ve been learning all about SVG. What have you been learning about lately Cassie?

Cassie: Oh, I’ve been recently learning quite a lot about Eleventy. I did a little site redesign recently using Eleventy and I’ve also been doing Andy Bell’s Eleventy from scratch course. So I’m getting quite into static site generators in general at the moment.

Drew: That’s great. I think we’re all getting into static site generators more as time goes on.

Cassie: It’s the future.

Drew: If you dear listener, would like to hear more from Cassie you can of course sign up for this animation Masterclass with Smashing Conf, but also you can find her on Twitter where she’s @Cassiecodes and her personal website is cassie.codes and that links to her CodePen, which is a great place to explore. Thanks for joining us today Cassie. Do you have any parting words?

Cassie: I would like to say that Smashing and I are offering for free tickets to my workshop. So they are diversity tickets that are going out to anyone that’s underrepresented in tec or going through a tough financial time at the moment. So you can apply for that on the webpage about my workshop and I hope to see you there.

(il)

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[heidi-petrov-blog]

In the Eyes of a Drag Queen - WIP- First; Introductions! Privet! My birth name is William Petrov. I was born in Russia in 1995. I had small family, Just one sister, my mother, father, and me (not including grandparents). My father was pure Russian, however my mother was from England. Her name was Susan Harp. I had a very strong bond with my parents, they were both loving yet firm with me. By the age of 11 I had been having troubles with my sexuality and identity. I was more attracted to males somehow, females never interested me. It was a very difficult time for me as I lived in a rather homophobic town, where people found it very difficult to accept. Yet on my 12th birthday I felt I was ready to come out as gay, though there was still a strange feeling I had, but being so young I couldn’t pinpoint the issue. Thankfully, both my parents accepted my sexuality quite well, I remember my father telling me “Уильям, как твой отец, я всегда буду защищать вас и поддерживать вас. Не важно что.” Which translates to “William, as your father, I will always protect you and support you. No matter what.” These words will always be remembered. Unfortunately, a few months later my mother and father went camping. My sister was around 18 at the time so she and I were left at home under her supervision. They were only supposed to be gone for a night, but a few days passed and they had still not turned up home. My sister and I grew increasingly worried hour by hour. Soon enough, a sorry-looking policeman showed up at our front door. His old face looked worn and tired. He had bags under his eyes and you could tell, just by the look on his poor face, it was not good news. This news hit my sister and I hard. “I’m sorry-“ the policeman said, “-your parents are no longer on this earth. Carbon monoxide poisoning. They were found dead in their tent a few days ago.” I broke down. My heart felt like it was being torn out of my chest, my thoughts felt like they were clawing at my skull, screaming and flailing around trying to escape. I fell down a dark, dark hole of misery and gloom. My sister, on the other hand, managed to stay strong, she was of course as heart-broken as I, yet she knew she had to now face reality and responsibility. We managed, just about. My sister got a small job as a baby-sitter and part-time waitress, she only just made enough income to pay rent and afford two small meals a day. Around 6 months later it was winter. We were really struggling now we had to pay heating and extras to survive. My sister sat me down one evening and spoke to me calmly. “Will, I have been in contact with mother’s brother. I have had to make the decision, you will be going to live with him in England. He will be able to support you, care for you, and give you the education you need. You’re leaving tomorrow. I will be staying here, but I will visit.” And that was that. The next day I was on the first flight to England. Having never met my mother’s brother I was extremely nervous. Soon enough I arrived in England. With my small teddy bear in my left hand, and my suitcase in my right, I started heading deep into the airport. Everyone was speaking a language I did not understand, there was a lot of pushing and shoving, and many signs I could not read. Being a confused and terrified young boy, I simply collapsed on the floor in tears, crying out for my parents and my sister; hoping this was all just a bad dream. Amongst all the commotion I felt a gentle tap on my left shoulder, followed by a soothing female voice. I did not understand but she seemed to want me to stand up, and so I did. She took my suitcase and then my hand, and lead me to some sort of station. I assumed it was security, though I wasn’t entirely sure. The lady started talking to another female, this one seemed a lot scarier and stern though. A hard stare engraved onto her face. I could not understand what they were saying, but they sounded concerned. Minutes later, the kinder female crouched down and tried communicating with me, I recognised one or two words like name, country, and age from learning a little bit of English from my mother. I replied to her with “William Petrov, I from Russia, English not good”. The lady nodded, softly smiled, and once again spoke to the other lady, who then took out a microphone, pressed a button, and spoke. I did not know what she was saying, but I heard her say my name. The lady carried on speaking while the kinder lady took my hand once more, and took me down the corridor and to a small room where she signalled to me to sit down on one of the large couches. The lady walked to the other side of the room and picked up several items, brought them back over to me and placed them in a line on the low coffee table in front of me. There were a few bottles, some sachets, small packets, and some larger packets. I assumed she was offering me food and drink, so I took a packet of what looked like hot-chocolate, a small bottle of what appeared to be lemonade, and a packet of crisps. I handed her the sachets of hot chocolate as she turned to go and start the kettle. Soon after I had eaten the crisps (which turned out to be cheese and onion flavour), and drank my hot chocolate and a sip of lemonade, I thanked the lady as I slowly drifted off to sleep, hugging my teddy-bear and bottle of lemonade. I didn’t know how long had passed since then, but when I woke up, I found myself in a large double bed, tucked up in fresh-smelling, deep rose coloured sheets. I looked around white room and, ahead of me, I saw a sweet beech wood desk with books, paper, and other stationary neatly organised in cups and desk-tidies, accompanied by a comfy looking black office-style chair. To the right of me I saw a large wardrobe, made from a similar beech wood as the desk, as well as a full-length mirror on one of the doors. In the reflection, I saw the prettiest scene; two magpies nesting on a large oak tree outside the window. I turned to my right and felt the cool air on my face, the white curtains were open, and were gently blowing in the wind. I glanced at the magpies, they seemed to be resting, peacefully. Suddenly I heard a faint knock at the door, I looked towards it, and managed to squeak out “Da?” (Meaning “yes” in Russian). The door opened slowly, and in came a young male (mid-30’s?), he had very similar facial features to my mother, yet looked very masculine with stubble and a wider jaw, as well as a larger body-build. He stood in the door way, looking unsure while fumbling with a small book. He soon looked up and spoke “Privet Uil'yam, ya tvoy dyadya. YA nadeyus', chto v etom nomere yest' vse, chtoby vy chuvstvovali sebya komfortno. Dayte mne znat', yesli vam nuzhno chto-nibud'. YA prines vam yedu.” Translated to “Hello William, I am your uncle. I hope this room has everything to make you feel comfortable. Let me know if you need anything. I brought you food.”. His pronunciation was a little off, but I really appreciated his effort. My uncle briefly scurried back behind the door, and after a few seconds, reappeared with a tray of food. He brought the tray over to me, signalling to me to stay where I was. He placed the tray on my lap, smiled, and then ruffled my hair before leaving the room. I looked down at the food placed on my lap. I saw a glass of orange juice, an apple, a small carton of cereal along with a cup of milk, and a piece of warm toast with butter and marmalade. I placed the orange juice and milk on the bedside-table beside me, as I was doing so I noticed the bottle of lemonade which was left with me in case I needed a drink throughout the night. I moved the apple onto the bed next to me, and then started eating the toast, being careful not to get crumbs everywhere. I then moved onto the cereal, then the apple, and then finished off with the glass of orange juice. I felt very full afterwards, I hadn’t eaten so much in what seemed like forever! For the first time in a long while, I felt almost happy. I was in a nice, cool room, I was well-fed, and I was feeling positive.