#Right from her opener move I knew animators and motion artists the world over were gonna go feral for her

[threewaysdivided]

@cinnademon @cryxtheace Her motion and poses and transitions and timing!

Taisiia Onofriichuk from Ukraine performs her hoop routine to the sound of "Thriller" by Michael Jackson at the 2024 Paris Olympics Rhythmic Gymnastics Individual Qualifiers

[deathonyourtongue]

You Mean the World to Me

Summary: The house feels like a tomb. Three years to the day, you stand in front of the mirror, smoothing out your black silk blouse and spraying down a flyaway or two with a touch more hair spray. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 4K Warnings: HEAVY angst. Non-fappable Smut. A/N: Remember when I said this one would get better? I lied. The song for this one is: Freya Ridings - You Mean the World To Me

The house feels like a tomb. Three years to the day, you stand in front of the mirror, smoothing out your black silk blouse and spraying down a flyaway or two with a touch more hair spray. You double-check that your mascara is waterproof, and that your lipstick isn’t on your teeth. 

With a deep, shaking breath, you force yourself to look in the mirror, knowing appearances matter today. It’s why you asked Henry to tie his hair back and trim his beard, if only a little. Though the gathering itself is private, you know better than to think your husband won’t be photographed on the way there and back, despite all effort being made to keep things secret. 

After all, Henry hasn’t been photographed since landing at Heathrow all those years ago, and the public is voracious in its curiosity. 

You give a soft smile to his reflection as he steps up behind you, looking dapper in an all-black suit. Nearly back to the size you remember him being, the only indicators that things have changed for Henry, are so subtle most wouldn’t even notice. Fine lines map the grief on his face, connecting seamlessly to the fetching swaths of gray in his hair, and ink stains beneath his azurite gaze mark the innumerous sleepless nights and long, taxing days. It’s the emptiness, however, that shows the true extent of the damage. Smiles no longer reach his eyes, if they manage to present themselves at all. Words are carefully selected and thoughtfully spoken in a soft, hushed tone that lacks any true animation. 

The man you knew, the one who brought light to every room he entered, has been extinguished and all that remains are the pieces of a heart battered to a pulp by a cruel fate.

No matter how barbaric life has been towards him, however, one thing it has never taken is his gentility. Though Henry goes through the motions in every other area of his life, with you he is painfully tender, doting, and attentive. He goes out of his way to ensure you want for nothing, and he’s never short on the little gestures that move mountains. Each morning you’re awoken with a kiss, and each night he makes sure the sheets are wrapped up around you just how you like. He does everything around the house, leaving you free to heal in your own time, never once so much as asking for help. 

For all the gentleness he exudes, below it lays the torment, and each day it rises, drowning Henry slowly. Just as you notice the tenderness with which he treats you, it’s hard to miss the way he neglects himself. Aside from maintaining his physique (something you’re almost certain he does solely for the benefit of friends and family), he’s given up on almost everything he had a passion for. Figures sit in their original packaging, waiting to be painted. The TV is rarely switched to something he enjoys, forever tuned to your channels instead. Books gather dust, and his riding gear has long been stored away in the recesses of a closet somewhere in the house, never to be seen again. The only thing he still takes a smattering of time to enjoy are his games, and you don’t need to ask to know the ‘why’ behind it. Even a drowning man needs to shut his brain off, and slipping into another world is the easiest way to do so. 

“Ready, my love?” He whispers, your heart breaking all over again for him as you take in the thin line of his lips, pressing tightly into a smile against what you know is a clenched jaw. Henry’s always on the brink of tears and it’s more than evident how hard he fights it for you. 

Today will be harder on him than anyone else, as he never got to say goodbye. Never got to hold the daughter he helped create. Never truly got to grieve her loss. It makes you feel selfish in comparison, though he would never accuse you of such. 

He holds up your black blazer for you to slip your arms through, his hands careful and gentle as they smooth the material over your shoulders. You close your eyes as he opens his mouth to speak again, knowing what’s coming. 

“You look beautiful, darling.” 

It’s hard to understand why he even still cares for you after everything you’ve put him through and the guilt threatens to cut off your air as you turn and gaze up at the man you love more than anything. Straightening his tie, you shake your head, frowning. 

“You don’t need to say nice things to me. Not today.” Lip quivering, you rest your hand over his heart for a moment before walking out of the room, giving Henry the privacy you know he needs to compose himself. His tell is the small vein next to his eye, one that only strains when he can no longer bear to fight. You wish you could make it disappear forever, but you don’t know how. He won’t let you in, won’t let you carry even a pocketful of the load he’s been hauling for years; the weight that’s slowly sinking him past the point of no return. 

Clutching your own heart as you hear him turn on the faucet to mask the sounds of his tears, you wonder, not for the first time, if this gathering won’t be the straw that breaks him for good. Breathing deeply, you fight your own heartbreak, willing yourself to be the rock for once. 

Henry grips your hand tightly in his as you and the rest of the attendants walk briskly through the gates of Brompton, ignoring the cries of photographers, all clamoring to get their first pictures of Henry in three years. His brothers shield you both from the brunt of it, but it still leaves you feeling dizzy and out of sorts, even when you reach the relative privacy of the chapel. 

After regrouping, your small gathering of friends and family head towards the gravestone Henry’s mother had dutifully commissioned and overseen the installation of. Neither of you had any input, you because of the condition you were in, and Henry because he couldn’t even bear to hear it spoken of without having a full panic attack.

Though appropriately small, the onyx headstone brings tears to your eyes immediately, due to the detail in the angel that lays atop it, the artist having mixed the gray stone statue seamlessly with wispy clouds at the top of the polished black granite. It’s the first time you’ve seen your daughter’s name written anywhere, and it instantly knocks the wind from your lungs, leaving you wobbling. 

Henry’s strong arms hold you up until you can find your footing again, tucking you in close to his side as any hope of being the strong one, of fighting against the painful memories is lost. Crying softly into the lapel of his jacket, you wonder how he’s able to hold it together, until you remember that he’s had three years of practice, three years of putting his pain dead last in the list of priorities. Still, it’s impossible to miss the tremor in his hands and the subtle rocking of his body as he valiantly picks up the fight you’ve already lost.

None of the speeches reach your ears, your eyes focused entirely on the gravestone, your mind replaying the sole image of your daughter in your thoughts over and over again. Gripping Henry’s suit tightly, you remember how serene her face was, how perfectly formed in every way she had been; how much you yearned for her to take her first breath and let out a cry. 

As the ceremony ends and the small crowd begins to disperse, you feel Henry pull away, handing you off to one of his brothers with an encouraging nod and words you can barely make out. You don’t fight it, no matter how much you wish he’d let you stay, let you into his grief. If nothing else, he’s earned the right of saying goodbye to the daughter he so longed for, the one he never got to meet, in private. Looking over your shoulder, fresh tears stream down your face as you watch your husband fall to his knees. His scream is silent, one hand gripping his own head in a vice, the other clutching the headstone as though it were a life preserver in a raging sea.  You’ve never seen a man more broken and for the first time, you wonder if Henry will survive this at all. One thought runs through your head on repeat as you’re ushered into one of the black sedans in the small convoy.

He didn’t deserve this. None of it. It was all your fault. 

In the days that follow, Henry’s doting becomes almost unbearable. You walk on eggshells around him and he cares for you like fine crystal, both of you terrified that the other will shatter, never to be repaired. Yet, despite your reticence to be looked after, your growing anger that he won’t let you help in any way, you can’t, in good conscience, keep him from carrying out his daily rituals, knowing it’s all he has. 

Henry treats each kiss from you as though it will be his last, lips lingering on yours just a little longer than necessary. When you hug, it’s as though you’re imbuing him with just enough energy to make it through another day. You quickly realize that aside from you, he has nothing tethering him to life. Despite his family being ever caring and concerned, despite friends doing their best to rally around him, it seems as though Henry is simply waiting to draw his last breath, waiting for his heart to finally give out under all the pressure. The only reason he doesn’t let go is because you’re still here. You wish once more that he would just give over some of his pain, allow himself some small relief, no matter how quickly it came and went.

You catch him crying silently at his computer one morning, his favorite game paused in favor of gazing out the window. Breaths shallow and scratchy, it’s as though each inhale lacerates his windpipe. It’s an image you know will be burned into your memory forever, and before you can stop yourself, you’re pulling him into your arms, holding fast as he does his best to wrestle out of your grip in order to wipe his eyes and pretend like everything is fine. 

“What’s the matter, love?” He asks, his voice that of a drowning man, Henry managing to push you far away enough to see your face. The fear and shame in his eyes startles you, but it’s the smile, so tender and compassionate that plunges the knife straight into your heart. 

“Stop this.” You beg, your own tears falling furiously as you cup his face in your hands, despairing when his eyes soften and the kindness in them focuses directly on you. 

“I’m okay, my love. I promise.” Even as he says the words, Henry’s face crumples and the floodgates finally give way. All the fight leaves him and his body goes limp in your arms before every muscle tenses back up as though made of stone.

You hold him tightly as it all comes rushing out, Henry’s keening wail muffled against your sternum, his anguish palpable in a way you’ve never experienced before, even on the night your memory came back to you. 

“Why?” The question leaves his lips like a mantra and at first, you think he’s just asking rhetorically, but when he manages to look up at you, it’s clear he wants an answer. 

“Why did you go through it all alone? Why didn’t you have them call me?” Henry says between gasps for air, his chest heaving as the hurt comes through full force. The realization that he went through three years’ worth of suffering without ever truly knowing why, hammers the knife back into your heart and leaves you momentarily speechless.

“It was my responsibility to keep her safe and I...I failed,” you whimper, the pain simmering through every inch of your chest. “It was the one thing you wanted more than anything, Henry, and I fucked it all up. It was my fault. It was all my fault!” 

He crushes you to him, shaking his head, unwilling to accept the answer as fact. You sob into the crook of his neck, the same panic you’d felt that night coming back in breathtaking speed. Henry’s tenderness radiates in waves, and while his own tears don’t slow, his body relaxes some, secure in the new knowledge he finally possesses. You feel his lips press to the crown of your head, one hand squeezing the nape of your neck gently while the other does laps up and down your spine, Henry putting himself on the back-burner yet again. 

“It was never, ever your fault, my love. The doctor said it would have happened regardless of how closely you’d been monitored. Sometimes life is just cruel, but it was never your fault. I will never blame you for the loss of our child. Never. I just wish...I wish I could have b-been there to h-help you th-through it.” 

The ache in his voice pulls another whimper from your lips and as you finally get your wish and take on some of his burden, you realize how grave an error in judgement you’d made that night. Trying to keep him from the pain of loss had only amplified it exponentially for both of you. 

Days turn to weeks, and little by little, you move back into a familiar comfort with one another. Gone are the eggshells, replaced with wine, movies, and the occasional dance in the kitchen while dinner is cooking. You’re healing, falling in love all over again, but Henry...Henry’s lagging behind. 

Though he no longer hides his bad days from you, and they do indeed get less frequent, you can’t help but notice what seems to be a permanent change in the man you love. Like a soldier after an arduous tour of duty, Henry seems to let life just come at him without any reasonable reaction. Good or bad, he remains placid, eyes always holding the sadness you’re now certain will never truly leave him. Though his smiles get brighter, they still don’t reach his gaze, at times leaving you uncertain of whether he’s genuinely experiencing happiness or just watching it pass him by as though it were a paper boat on a lazy river. 

It's most apparent at night when he watches you get ready for bed. You’ve grown comfortable enough with him that changing in front of him is no longer something to blush about, and though it took a while to get back in the habit, you now do so every night without a second thought. It was silly, really, when you considered that he’d been solely responsible for your care for two years. You were horrified to learn the details of said care, having never wanted to put Henry in such a position, but he’d merely shrugged it off as though it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“It was never a question in my mind, love. You’re my wife. My responsibility is first and foremost to your care and happiness. I couldn’t leave that in the hands of anyone else.”

Disrobing in front of him is about as intimate as you get nowadays, but not for lack of trying. Every little spot you remembered from before has been kissed and caressed in the hopes of rousing him to attention. Each time, Henry will gently stop you, his eyes filled with shame and regret despite the tender smile of understanding. Logically, he knows you want to be intimate again, wants that part of your relationship to come back, but he can’t bring himself to do it, fearing a repeat of history. You know, because it’s the same fear you tamp down each time you try, hoping that this time will be different. 

So when his soft voice breaks through the otherwise-silent room one night, it catches you off guard. 

“Let me see you,” Henry whispers, his expression holding something different in it as you turn to face him. Brow somewhat furrowed, his eyes carry a mixture of awe and longing as he lets his gaze slip over your nude form. Your heart clenches when you see his eyes shimmer with tears, Henry’s mouth parted softly, as though he’s breathing his last. 

Sitting up against the headboard, hands folded in his lap, he smiles fondly as his gaze meets yours once more. You don’t dare speak, letting him have his fill, knowing this the most he’s tried to do in a long, long time. Henry lets out a shaky sigh, and the tears slip down his cheeks, making your heart ache. 

“You’re breathtaking. Simply breathtaking, in every way.” 

Your own lip quivers as you take a step forward, hoping against hope that this is what he needs to heal that much further. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hand, your fingers scratching gently at the beard that’s become more familiar than the once-smooth face you remember. 

Henry laughs softly, and it’s as though the heavens have opened up. Gazing into each other’s eyes, you find the courage to say what’s been on your mind for the last few days. 

“I miss us. I miss making love, Henry. I miss feeling you inside me. More than anything though, I miss us not being afraid of each other like this. I want to try again, Henry. I want another chance at…” You can’t finish, the words turning into the faintest of whispers as you wait for his reaction your own tears sliding down your face. 

“I’m scared. Scared of things going wrong, scared of not being there again.” Henry admits, his voice pinching as he looks up at you helplessly. “Scared that I’ll lose you.” 

“I am too, Henry. But I’m more scared of losing us than anything else. I can handle anything fate wants to throw in our faces if I have you by my side. I know that now. But I can’t sit by and watch our love die because we’re too scared to nurse it back to life after a storm.” 

You’re taken by surprise when Henry reaches up and cups the back of your neck, bringing you down for a tender kiss so filled with desperate yearning, it leaves you breathless. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his lap, deepening the contact. Blindly, you reach up and undo the band holding Henry’s hair in place. You want every part of him to be free, including the wild mane of curls he normally keeps pristinely tied back. It seems to release something inside him because before you know it, you’re on your back and he’s shimmying out of the lounge pants he wears to bed. 

His lips light a path all along your body, desire mixed with a deep-seated longing for the physical intimacy he hasn’t experienced in years. Where most men would have tried to get back at it at the first opportunity, Henry was saintly in his patience, waiting for you to be comfortable, to be ready, to initiate. Turning you down had never been his intention; just a knee-jerk reaction to an overabundance of pain that he’s still trying to cope with. 

Your hands card through his curls as you let him learn your body anew, let him come to terms with his fears as he kisses, licks, and sucks every inch of you. Sounds of relief escape between panting breaths, relief not only that he can still be with you in this way, but that he’s not as broken as he’d assumed. Your own hand sliding down slowly from his hip confirm that at least one of his fears has been assuaged and you don’t miss the flicker of excitement and arousal in his blue eyes as he feels your touch. 

Henry comes back to your lips, kissing with more energy and passion than you’ve felt since waking, each physical display of love mending your heart a little more. Finally, the man you remember is returning. Little by little, your husband, the other half of your soul, is coming back to you. It’s enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes, tears you blink away quickly, not wanting them to ruin the moment. Henry doesn’t miss it however, kissing them away and making you whimper. 

Meeting your gaze, he poses a final question silently, and you can only manage to nod, unable to so much as think of saying no. 

It’s different than you remember; better. He takes his time, his sole focus on your pleasure, even while you’re focused on his. The kisses amplify every thrust, your hips moving as one, connected mind, body, and soul. It isn’t long before your both coated in a thin sheen of sweat, eyes locked on one another as you move towards release together. 

The heated ache at your core only grows as Henry slips your legs over his broad shoulders, intentionally deepening every movement he makes inside you. Mouth parted, you can only watch your husband in awe as he works your body from memory, knowing exactly what feels right. 

It doesn’t take much for either of you to reach your peaks, time away from the primal act causing every sensation to be intensified, and it’s not until your gazes lock once more that you realize you’ll both fall over the edge together.

The gravity of what’s happening hits the two of you immediately after the first wave of pleasure, but it’s too late; there’s nothing to be done for it. You squeeze Henry’s hands, begging him to meet your gaze once more, but his own eyes are tightly shut. 

He keeps them closed as he lifts your right leg over his head, bringing it to join your left at his shoulder. Your tears come unbidden as you realize what he’s doing. 

“Henry!” You squeak out, gripping his hand tighter, beside yourself with the amount of love you feel for your husband, the fear of the future, and the hope that this time, it’ll work out better than it did the first time. 

Henry finally opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours for a moment before he closes them again, sobbing. His free hand strokes your calf gently, his other shaking in your grip, and when he finally speaks, you can hear the release of his heart as clearly as you’d felt the release of his seed moments earlier. 

“I love you so much! You mean the world to me.”

[vegetacide]

Veggie art’ing Part II complete…  This is a continuation of THIS 

Also for something a bit new as I had several notes asking what was going on with the previous pic I wrote a little something to accompany this.  It took a rather unexpected direction on me as I had ordinally intended for this to be a reconciliation picture..   Just were my mind veered for some reason.. I blame these two idiots…

I have spent far too long plunking away at this so bare with me if its absolutely crap. 

Anyway.. if you wish to read it.. look check out below 

Working title: …haven’t come up with one yet.. meh. Sue me

Blanket warning: Hints to adult subject matter that some might find offensive or triggery..mentions of past trama…. etc etc

Rating: Teen.. I guess

Word count: 2726 words 

Characters: Virgil/Kayo

Fandom: TaG’verse A/U

Location: My made up beach house located somewhere on Tracy Island..  

Veggie notes:   Any errors are completely my own and I am sure I will catch them at some point on one of my obsessive read throughs of self doubt.  :D

Enjoy…

o0o 

Damn, how in the world had it come to this? 

Virgil watched as she padded on quiet, bare feet across the beach house deck.  Retreating again and effectively shutting him out.  Her slender shoulders so small under the too big flannel of his shirt, were hunched as she protectively wrapped her arms around herself. Closing off like she always did when things got too close and too real for her to deal with. 

His chest hurt, a dull ache behind his breast bone and he rubbed at it subconsciously.  Like his heart was too big and in its floundering it was trying to break through the meager sack of flesh that housed it.

Cursing, he rubbed at it again and resisted the urge to drive his fist in the plastered wall of the beach house.  The effort wouldn’t serve any meaningful purpose anyways other than splitting his knuckles. There was no detracting from his present circumstances and potential broken bones wouldn’t change that. 

He should have taken more care with his words instead of letting his thoughts run free as he did and he kicked himself for his short sightedness,  not that it fixed anything.  He’d been too caught up in his own little world,  completely forgetting the reality they were living and now here they were. 

On opposing ends of a vast chasm.  Him holding on with all his might to keep his family whole while Kayo fought against it. The horrible twisted image of family that a mad man had imprinted on her at too young an age warping her view on things to the detriment of them both.    An idea she had been fighting her whole life to make different and one she couldn’t escape, it seemed no matter how hard they tried to.  

The old doubts and worries were always just beneath the surface just waiting to spring forth to bugger things up. The present being a prime example.  

The morning had started out completely different and felt almost like a dream to where they were now.   Warm and lazy with a vague like quality one found just upon waking.   

Kayo had been snuggled in his arms. Her legs tangled with his among the rumpled sheets. A sweet ocean breeze blowing through the gossamer curtains and dancing pleasantly over their satiated bodies.  Wicking the dew of sweat from their skin as their pulses slowed and their minds drifted back from the bliss of carnal sensation. 

His fingers had been lazily tracing up and down her back, over the sinewy grace of her shoulders and down the curve of her spine. Paying homage and mapping every glorious inch to his artist brain. 

He’d been lost in a day dream of what could be. The gentle rise of her hip, the varied valleys of her ribs  directing the course of his thoughts.  A picture was forming of a future, one that stretched out before them like a blank canvas, waiting for them to take up the brush and fill it with colour and life. 

A story in images had started to sketch itself  in his mind’s eye.  The two of them, together.  Healing, growing and evolving with a world of opportunity before them and nothing to hold them back. 

Not being able to contain himself as he lazed with her, Virgil had voiced his thoughts. Letting loose all that he’d hoped for.   A tumble of words spewing forth that had Kayo suddenly growing still and stiff to his touch. 

“Virgil,�� stop…”  Had been all she’d uttered before she’d turned from his embrace and slipped from the soft comfort of their bed.  Her hair a tumble of love tousled ebony, hiding her face. 

“It would be a nice picture to paint.”  He’d replied, mind still on other things and not on the present.   “Go anywhere, wherever we want.  Take in the sights for a change instead of just jetting by them.  Go to that little cabin by that lake I told you about… it would be a perfect spot to..”

“Enough! …” The abruptness of her raised voice had him snapping his jaw shut.  

With jerking motions, she’d grabbed up his shirt.  The match to his favourite pair of lounge pants.   The one she loved to cozy into and entice him with. A glimpse of flesh here as it rode up her thighs, a flash there as supple mounds peaked out between the row of loosed buttons. Now though it covered her in a different manner entirely.  Like a shield, she clasped it tightly 

He’d pushed up to his elbows, brows dropped low with concern as he’d finally taken note that something wasn’t quite right..  “Kay?"  

She’d cast her gaze back at him then.  The briefest of looks had been enough for him to catch the shadow of disquiet in them.  Their usual vibrancy muddied by brewing clouds of anger that had him sliding from the sheets and reaching for her. 

“Don’t.” Was all she said, shaking her head as he’d risen and moved towards her.  Her hands held aloft to hold him back as she’d strode from the room.  

“What… Tin,  what’s going on?”  

Grabbing up his pants Virgil had stumbled after her, hopping as he yanked them on amid a  litany of colourful words. 

“Shit… Wait..”  

Steps later he was confronted by a fury he hadn’t expected considering where and what they had been doing mere moments before.  

She had been pacing like a caged animal,  across the expanse of the living room and back again.  Rage flowing from her with each hurried step. 

“What…?”  Was all he managed to say before she turned on him.  Fire in her gaze,  colour high on her cheeks.  

“You know what?”  She seethed, poking a finger in his direction as she did another circuit of the room.

He’s own anger bubbled to the surface,  “Actually, I don’t. So would you enlighten me to whatever erroneous infraction it is that you think that I’ve done?”  

“Oh, don’t give me that.  You know exactly what the problem is.”

Virgil’s brows shot up as her words had struck a chord in his grey matter. “Problem? You really think…”

“What in the hell were we thinking?!”  She growled out, shoving a chair out to the way and knocking it over with a crash. “Selfish..Stupid.”

“With the lives we lead….You can’t ask this of me!”   

Her words had been like a physical blow and Virgil had taken an involuntary step back. She’d wanted her words to hurt and she’d succeeded.  She never did pull her punches and her aim was as impeccable as ever.

He’d seen the realization of what she’d said flicker through her gaze but she’d quickly buried it. Instead of saying more, she shook her head, turned  her back on him once more and walked out the open sliding doors putting more than just distance between them. 

And he’d let her go,  his shoulders slumping at the writing between the lines of what had been said. In his mind there was only one option open to them but maybe for her that wasn’t the case. The implications of those options was something he couldn’t dare to fathom…but it was a road he wouldn’t let her travel down alone.  

He had a responsibility to uphold,  as  her husband and as the man he prided himself on being.  A rescuer in dark times, when there was no one else capable of the job and sometimes those that needed rescuing were closer to home.

Squaring his shoulders he went after her.  She was begging for a fight. An obvious distraction from the core reasoning behind her lashing out at him but he wouldn’t take her up on the invitation.   He wouldn’t let her push him away to deal with whatever this was on her own. 

Passing through the doors,  his eyes scanned over the deck and his breath had caught.   

She looked so small, fragile and it had brought him up short. Slumping,  he braced himself between a support post and the beach house wall.  An uncanny exhaustion suffusing him as he saw the uphill battle of the task ahead.  A task he was determined to see through to the end, no matter the outcome. 

He hated seeing her like this and despite her best efforts to push him away, Virgil knew her too well.  Had spent most of his life knowing her.  He could read her nuances, gestures and mood even when she tried to close off from him like she was trying to do now under a mask of anger.  

“Tin,”  He said carefully, dropping his hand and pushing away from the post.  He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, letting the tension slip from his shoulders.   Approaching her with all guns blazing would only crank her defenses up higher and wouldn’t get them anywhere.

He watched her stance with a practiced eye as he stepped closer.  She was like an abused animal.  Even with all of her training, when she was emotionally compromised as she was right now the scared little girl she had been came to the fore.  The one they met when she’d first came to live with them, hiding behind her father’s leg.   

He hadn’t known her history then,  the actions of her uncle and the effect that it would have on the rest of her life.  How it would shape her into the strong, determined woman she was today.  Never letting anyone get close enough to see the frightened child she closeted away inside.  Virgil though had managed to find his way inside,  found the cracks in her apparent impenetrable armour and had broken through to  the core of the woman inside.  The one she tried desperately to hide from the world in a shell of fierce resolve and purpose.  

Under it all was a woman, who had seen too much.  Abused, battered, basically orphaned by her absentee father and desperately afraid.  To top it all off, she hated the weakness and fought tooth and nail to hide it from everyone.  With the exception of him,  she didn’t have a choice there. He’d wormed his way in and he wouldn’t stand by and let her retreat from herself or from him.  

Gently he placed his hands on her tight shoulders,  cupping their slender, wavering strength and he whispered her name again.  “Tanusha…”  

Her head bowed further,  a meager attempt to hide in the fall of her hair but he could feel the quiver in her body now,  hear the soft stuttered intake of her breath.  She was crying and trying oh so hard not to be. 

Pain and love swelled through his chest, and an undeniable protectiveness.  

Virgil pulled her back into his embrace, encircling his arms around her waist and with little resistance she melted.  

“I’m sorry,”  He whispered over the curve of her ear,  brushing his lips across the elven-like arch of it.  “I’m so sorry.”  

He put all his love he could into the words, hoping that by apologizing for something he wasn’t wholly the cause of would help alleviate her suffering in some way. 

“I wasn’t thinking and it was insensitive of me.”  He tightened his hold on her,  reassurance imbued into the gesture and slowly began to rock giving her the time to pull herself back together again. 

The slight tremor slowly dissipated,  her breathing settling into a somewhat normal rhythm and he knew that she was ready to hear. More so when she dragged in a ragged breath and exhaled a long drawn out sigh. He could almost hear her counting to ten in her head.  A method she used to reign back in some of her control and a calm he knew well creeped back in. One that camouflaged a great deal of hurt. 

He did the same,  his warm breath stirring her hair and ghosting across the smooth column of her neck which peeked out from the drooping collar of his shirt.   

“You know we’ve got this, right?”  He questioned though he wasn’t expecting an answer.  “Yes,  he’s out…”  She stilled once more in his hold but Virgil couldn’t stop now,  Kayo needed to hear this even if it was just a band-aid to the problem.   He couldn’t sit by and let her lose herself in fear so he pushed on. There was too much at stake.

“Yes,  he’s upped his game in a big way.  Dad knew he was capable,  your Dad knew….” A flinch at the mention of the absentee man but again he pressed on.  There was no backing down now.  What he had to say, needed to be said.  

“We were unprepared but we know better now and I promise you, Tanusha Kyrano Tracy;  just like I did on the day you said ‘Yes’.. That I will never,  ever let that man hurt you again.”  

He slipped a hand down,  between the soft folds of flannel,  across her silky, soft skin that concealed honed muscle and deadly skills. Brushed the edge of fine lace and stilled, cupped and shielded that which was only known to the two of them.  

With strength of purpose his chest swelled,  a determination unlike any he had ever known bulked up the threat behind his next words.  “I’ll do everything in my power to protect both of you, I swear it or the Hood will regret the day he heard the name Tracy.”

She turned, taking his hand in her own and lightly brushing her lips across his knuckles. “You’re too good for me Virgil Grissom Tracy and I don’t deserve you.”  

The brief storm of anger has fled from her eyes, leaving behind only doubt and fear.  “But I don’t think it’s as easy as that. You’re too good a man to stoop to such levels and I don’t think I could live with myself if you made that sort of sacrifice on my behalf. 

Besides,  what sort of life could we offer with him out there.   He’s already been the cause of so much pain.  You and your brother’s have suffered for years because of it..I don’t think I would have the strength if he was to get you or….” 

Virgil’s frowned.  “Tin,  I married you.  All of you and everything you brought with you. I knew full well what I was marrying into but that man,  that bastard… he can’t come between us and what we want unless you let him.”  

Her gaze dropped and with gentle fingers he lifted her chin and waited for her to meet his pleading eyes.  “Don’t let him win… not in this. Please God, not in this.”  

“We may not have a choice…” Came the whisper of her response, her forehead resting against his own as a lingering tear slipped from her lashes. 

“Tin, please….”

“Virgil, I love you.  God, how I love you but I can’t tell you what you want to hear.  Not right now. If the Hood found out…. 

Just then the island klaxon blared  and Virgil’s comms started to ping with urgency.

Kayo took a step back from him and he stared after her. Brain going a mile a minute with words he wanted to say,  emotions he wanted to express.   

“Go…” She said with resignation, her arms once more crossing over her frame.   “You’re needed..” 

“I’m needed more here.”  

His comms buzzed again followed by the voice of his star loving sibling. “Virgil, you’re needed in Ops. A.S.A.P.  Please confirm.””  

Conflicted, Virgil stood unmoving,  his fist clenched at his side.   Trapped between the woman he loved and the life they’d chosen.  

“Go,  I’ll be here when you get back..”   

His brother’s voice sounded again from his comms, pulling him in two directions at once.  The hint of stress he picks up in it though had him unfreezing and heading for the underground access to the hanger.  

Passing through the automated door and hitting his comms to reply to John, he looked back at Kayo.  His heart sinking and doubt filling him as he watched her turn away from him.  

Uncertainty prickling across his skin as he questioned the validity of her words but there was nothing he could do right now.   Lives were at stack…more so than just those that needed rescuing and his hands were tied… 

“FAB John,  on my way…”

FIN….????

[heavencollins]

Top 10 Films of 2020: Part One

2020 was a rough year for a lot of reasons, but even more rough due to the lack of an existent film industry for over half of the year.  Sure, there are small productions happening and movies being released on VOD, as well as some in theatres, but so many great films were pushed back this year—movies I was excited to possibly have on my top ten.  Minari, Promising Young Woman, Zola, The Green Knight, Saint Maud.  Okay most of those are A24 releases but A24 literally released next to none of their slate for this year and it’s one of the most disappointing things to happen in the entertainment industry in my opinion.  

Alas, I still found cinema through streaming, paying $20 for a VOD rental, and those amazing $1.80 rentals from Redbox (remember when they were only a dollar?  because I do).  And honestly?  It was probably the hardest time curating a top ten that I’ve had in a long time; with so much just available through the internet and owning every single popular streaming service, it was both impossible to watch everything I wanted but also since I watched a lot of what i wanted, I ended up loving most of it.  For a year that was so dismal in every other way possible, the films that were released ended up being a shining light more often than not.  Of course, like every other year, a lot of hot garbage came out too, but that isn’t the focus of this—the great, amazing, can’t believe these are real films.  

So let’s start from number ten.  This was my first and only $20 rental this year, starring a man who I personally admire: Pete Davidson.  

10. The King Of Staten Island, directed by Judd Apatow and written by Judd Apatow, Pete Davidson, and Dave Sirus.  

Judd Apatow is one of the first directors who I watched religiously, and hearing that he was doing a film with Pete Davidson that was essentially based on Davidson’s life meant that I knew I’d have to watch it.  Scott, played by Davidson, is a twenty-something with no direct path in life; he lives with his mother, his sister is going off to college—something he never attempted—and he has no real career.  His father died in a large building structure fire, much like Davidson’s actual father, a firefighter who passed away while responding to the twin towers during 9/11.  Scott is emotionally a wreck, plagued with depression and anxiety, a chronic weed smoker, and dreams of being a tattoo artist that he practices by tattooing his group of rag-tag friends, but none of the tattoos are very great.  

The thing about an Apatow film is they border the line between comedy and drama very well, kind of a complicated little dance.  But, King of Staten Island is very much a drama more than a comedy.  Bill Burr plays Ray, the father of a kid that Scott tattoos earlier on in the film.  Ray comes stomping up to Scott’s mother’s house, and Margie, played by Marissa Tomei, opens the door.  It’s essentially love at first sight.  She hasn’t dated since Scott’s father passed, and to make matters worse, Ray is also a firefighter.  This complicates emotions for Scott, as he loves his mother but also doesn’t know how to deal with the feeling that his mother is finally moving on and may face heartbreak again.  

Davidson puts it all on the table in this film.  It’s poignant and realistic; at the start, Scott is driving down the highway and closes his eyes, way longer than you should.  It sets the tone from the start that this man isn’t okay, but also he’s scared of dying because as soon as he opens his eyes again and sees he may be about to crash, he quickly panics and readjusts his wheel.  This struck a chord with me as most people know that Davidson has struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past.  It’s a beautiful film that memorializes both how much Davidson’s father meant to him, but also the cycles of grief and trauma that last throughout your life.  

9: Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn), directed by Cathy Yan and written by Christina Hodson.

Suicide Squad is one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen period, fact.  Birds of Prey is one of the best movies I’ve ever seen period, fact.  I never, ever, ever thought I’d see a day where a DC movie was in my top ten, but this year anything is possible.  Birds of Prey is a display of feminism, badassery, and all around perfection.  You jump right into the story, hearing Margot Robbie’s classic Harley Quinn voice laid over an animation showing what we missed in her life so far, which means you don’t have to have any previous knowledge of the other films.  Birds of Prey is meant to stand alone from any other movie preceding this one, and that’s just part of why it’s so great.

This film knows not to take itself too seriously.  Margot Robbie is a dream as Harley Quinn, using just the right amount of playfulness to put a little edge on her, while also maintaining the manic-panic-pixie-dream-girl effect.  Perhaps the best scene is when Harley goes and purchases the perfect egg breakfast sandwich, and then she drops it, causing a dramatic slow motion effect that proves she really does love that sandwich more than anything in the world.  Or her realistic apartment, nothing truly fancy, just a little hole in the wall above a rundown Chinese restaurant.  But then she has an amazing ensemble of other women actors around her, which are what really uplift her performance. 

The funhouse fight scene at the end may be the best in superhero movie history.  I mean, I guess, is Harley Quinn really a superhero?  She’s kind of the anti-hero, which is what makes her so great.  She’s somebody who isn’t even close to perfect but she still succeeds and tries to help and uplift the other women on her team.  There’s just something special about this movie that made me smile and laugh the entire time.  It’s a reminder that it’s okay to have fun every once in a while.  

8: The Assistant, directed and written by Kitty Green.

For those who don’t know, I work as an assistant during the day for a small business here in Vermont.  The work is mundane but it’s a job that’s giving me experience for the future.  In The Assistant, Jane, played by Julia Garner, is an assistant to a “powerful entertainment mogul.”  She gets lunch, answers phones, is the first one into the office, the last one out of the office, finds herself overshadowed by her male counterparts and getting the majority of the “grunt” work, and becomes more and more aware of what’s really going on at this office throughout a day in her life.  

What’s interesting about this film is nothing is ever seen; everything Jane starts to feel is just based on intuition.  Her boss is tricky, finding ways to keep his abuse of women out of the public eye, out of the eye of any female employees.  This is obviously in response to #MeToo, Times Up, and the Harvey Weinstein news from the last few years, and it works surprisingly well as a film that just unnerves you and gets under your skin.  

The reality of assault in the film industry is that until it’s widely public and known, nobody is going to know about it.  You can report it to your company, to other women, to other men, to anybody, and nobody will take you seriously until they either experience it themselves or know somebody else who has.  The Assistant hits the ball out of the park with the ending, even if it doesn’t give a vindictive satisfaction to viewers, because it’s simply the truth of the matter.  

7: Tenet, directed and written by Christopher Nolan.

I really don’t know what to say about this one.  It’s really controversial to like it but I absolutely LOVED this movie, it’s pure fucking vibes.  A lot of people are cinema purists, which I am not, and will never claim to be, which was a huge deal with this film.  Personally, this works way better at home than it ever would in a theater.  It’s slightly long, the sound mixing makes it so it can be hard to hear dialogue over loud noises and the score, and it’s the type of movie you may have to rewind  a few times.  

My partner and I watched this in 4K Ultra HD with subtitles on, and let me tell you, it was amazing.  Everything about the acting, the diversity in the film, the fact that Nolan literally has a character say “Don’t try to understand it, just experience it”???? VIBES.  That’s all I can say about it.  Plus, Elizabeth Debicki plays an actual badass who stands against her abuser and that enough is five stars.  A tall queen standing up against her short joker—absolute feminism.  

Sure, no character gets any development, but is that seriously necessary for every film?  It’s an action flick about time and space and none of it makes sense and you can’t force it to.  Why does everything need to make sense in a time where we are literally living through a pandemic?  Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the experience of Tenet.  It’s more fun when you don’t take it seriously.  

6: The Devil All The Time, directed by Antonio Campos and written by Antonio Campos, Donald Ray Pollock, and Paulo Campos.

I never read the book this was based on, but this film made me want to.  I love a film where multiple plot lines converge into one central story and this one did it so well, all with the same theme surrounding every single character: the guilt of sin and how no matter how much you think you can save yourself, you can’t truly save yourself.  I’m not a huge fan of Tom Holland, but he shines as Arvin from beginning to end.  Pattinson brings a creepy southern preacher to life with an accent that he will never be able to match again.  Keough gives a performance you can only sympathize with as you know she’s being manipulated the entire time.  Every character in this is corrupt in their own way but some in worse ways than others.

I don’t know how much to say about this one without spoiling it, either, because the core of this film is on the characters and what leads to their untimely ends, because pretty much everybody ends up dead.  It’s grim and dark but it’s so beautiful and tells the story in a way that keeps you interested throughout the entire run time.  It surprised me but there’s never truly been a Robert Pattinson starring movie that I’ve hated, so am I really surprised?  I’m a TwiHard at heart even at age 22. 

[ajokeformur-ray]

So I guess I should mention my anxiety and depression, they go up and down, so it’s not always bad. But when it gets bad, it’s pretty bad. I haven’t really had anyone to help me before. I have reoccurring nightmares and paralysis about my past relationship so I’d probably want him to know. Protective hyena over her man eater for sure 💚 but also I want to be protected, so depends on the situation really. Horny as fuck for him lmao very touchy and lovey. I’m already pierced meat so...

I haven’t written for Hannibal in the longest time (almost a year; barring the exception of that piece I wrote you about a month ago), so I might be a bit rusty, but I really wanted to gift @jokerslilhyena​ with a matchup for you and for Hannibal. I hope that you enjoy this, darling! Hanni and I both love you so much and we’re so so proud of you!💖

NSFW within.

Word count: 1, 924.

So I just want to start off by saying that Hannibal adores you. He is immediately intrigued by you; those intense chocolate eyes, your hair and the way it gently moves in the breeze, and upon deeper inspection, Hannibal realises that you are more than what you seem to be. Your fate is sealed with this realisation, though you don’t know it yet. Hannibal decides that he wants to get to know you on a more personal level and it's only too easy for him to tell that you have multiple demons, all of whom he wants to discover, too, and he thusly decides to introduce himself to you as a psychiatrist. In giving you this opening to be one of his patients, Hannibal is able to set into motion the plan to make you wholly dependent on him. Your life begins to change for the the better with Hannibal's presence and he quickly realises that you are someone who wants to be taken care of. You are strong and brave, and you can look after your own self, but, oh,  how you have suffered, and for this reason he wants to take care of you. You are so young but exquisitely damaged, he thinks, he can smell the terrors in your past on you, and he longs to uncover the as yet incomplete tapestry which is Lilith. He savours every uncovered piece and in return does he reveal to you one of his.

Hannibal makes it so that you don't think that you can ever survive without him again. It isn't that he doesn't care for you, but it's in his own way. His love language is a complex one, but once you’re fluent, you come to understand just how loud it is. It’s in the smallest of things; the way he cooks you your favourite meals wordlessly when you have had a bad day, the way he allows you to cling to him in the middle of the day... Hannibal would truly be devastated if he ever lost you, though he also knows that nothing will ever come between the two of you because he will do anything to keep that from happening. You are his and he looks after you. It increases your dependence on him, which is what he wants, and the moment you stop loving him is the moment he no longer has a need for you. He doesn't worry about that, though, because he knows that what you have together is real and true. You haven't ever had anyone help you with your anxiety, BPD and depression, and you manage yourself well. Anyone who doesn't know what to look for will miss it, but he is a professional psychiatrist and Hannibal sees you. He sees all of you and he finds himself wanting to help you with no ulterior motive. You may be wounded and you may limp, but you are a Hyena and they have a nasty bite. Hannibal teaches you to find yourself, he nurtures you and helps you to bare your teeth without fear of being punished, and he takes the best care of you that he possibly can every single day. Why, he knows not, but Hannibal doesn't much care for reasoning. He cares only for the action and its consequence: a slow relationship which blossoms beautifully with his nurturing, your desire for him, and the love which comes to grow between you remains evergreen. 

He takes time to get to know you, knowing that if he moves too fast you may run off; a wild animal are you. At first, you are merely psychiatrist and patient, but then one late afternoon, Hannibal asks you if you have eaten yet and you say no. Hannibal thus remarks that it is important to eat three meals a day, and he invites you to dinner. There is no escape now but even if it was presented to you on the silver platters which Hannibal so favours at his dinner parties, you wouldn't take it. Why would you, when everything you have ever needed or wanted is right there if you simply ask for it? You find yourself entangled in his web before you know it... by the time you realise it, it’ll be too late, but you don’t care. You love him and Hannibal comes to love you, too. During one session with Hannibal, you revealed to him the terrors of your past. You cried and you shook but that didn't stop you, and for that, Hannibal admired your strength. It was unusual in one so young, but so telling was it. He was angry, and rightly so, but Hannibal resolved to do all that he could to help you. Of everyone he had ever met, you were the one most worthy and the most deserving of kindness and of goodness, which told him that you were also the one who would want to receive his rare gift. By the time that you were wholly in love with him, he had already started to fall.

It was only a few months before Hannibal invited you to stay for the night, and within just a few hours did he come to learn of your nightmares and sleep paralysis. "What has the world done to you, my love?", he murmured in an attempt to soothe you. He relied on his training and what he knew of you to help you that night, and within a few nights had he fully mastered all the ways to help you. He was everything that you needed him to be even before you knew what you needed, so well does he know you. "It was not your fault, Lilith, and you did not deserve such abhorrent treatment. Were he not dead, I would kill him myself as an anniversary present." You laughed, but your heart wasn't in it. Not really, but all the same did you appreciate the sentiment. Your protective nature and your want to be protected are both circumstantial and Hannibal fulfills both. He always knows what you need before you need it and he knows how you need it, and in this way does he make sure that you do not stray from his side. Depending on the situation, you are strong but you are also capable of voicing when you want to be helped. You have gone through so much more than anyone should ever have to goes through but you carry yourself with dignity. Even people close to you are not fully aware of your struggles, but one look and Hannibal knows. 

When people get too close to you or to Hannibal, the other person is quick to angle their body in a protective manner. You often go out together, to see the Opera or simply to take in the sights of the city, and you are always touching in one way or another. Hannibal likes to keep his hand on the small of your back, so that he can touch as much of you as he can all at the same time, and the heat of his hand seeps through the baggy clothes which you favour. He grounds you and makes you feel safe, always. You are always his greatest priority and a matter of life and death. It is his loudest love confession but only you have ever stopped to listen. Your protective nature is amusing to Hannibal but he wouldn't want you any other way, for it is proof that you care as deeply as you say that you do. Words are cheap but actions are reliable and in this way does Hannibal understand that you are the perfect recipient for his rare gift, which no other has ever wanted. He appreciates it and he appreciates you and he does what he can to repay the favour in small ways. This includes cooking your favourite breakfast meal without being asked, buying you clothes which fit you perfectly and are your preferred style and aesthetic, and protecting you just as fiercely as you protect him. To Hannibal's thinking, you deserve the world and he wants to give it to you. For someone who has so deeply been hurt in her life, for someone who has so deeply gotten to know this rare gift bestowed upon them and wanted it, Hannibal is forever loyal and he will protect you until the day he dies.

You are unashamed when it comes to physically expressing yourself. There is nothing that you wouldn't allow Hannibal to do to you, and with everything that you have ever gone through, Hannibal takes it as a true mark of devotion and trust. He will not break it, he will not break you, but instead does he replace your marks of violence and your horrific scars, your traumas and your pains with love. He is tender and compassionate, impassioned, and if anyone can keep up with your sexual appetite, it's Hannibal. On the nights when you cannot or will not sleep, kept awake are you by nightmares, sleep paralysis, or stress, Hannibal will use his body to put your own to the test. Physical exhaustion most often wins out over these things, especially after three to four rounds of the same. Always will he coax multiple orgasms out of you. "You taste positively divine, dearest." and he laps at you like you are the first and only meal of the day. If you are not into that, then Hannibal will be able to derive the way that you taste from the way that you smell; for all five senses are engaged when one eats. You’re also very loving and very affectionate, and Hannibal can read you like a book. He knows when you want cuddles, he knows when and how you want to be kissed, and he always knows what you want even before you do; you are his open book, his Lilith, his Hyena, his One, and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Many a crime scene stands as testament to that unspoken vow.

You are extremely creative, skilled both with words and artistically, and Hannibal supports you in this as in everything. He is an artist too, and one of the ways in which he tells you that he loves you is to leave sketches of you in places that he knows you will find. You work hard academically, and you are under more stress than someone your age should be. As such, Hannibal does what he can to help you, to guide your way, and he handles your finances; he lets you pay for nothing, not that he tells you that. You know, of course you do, but it is yet another unspoken thing between you. You do many things for the other without saying a word, such is the nature of your relationship, and it isn't unusual for one of you to suddenly whisper a "thank you" to the other, but no "you're welcome" comes; it's all in the way you're tightly gripped onto, the way you both nuzzle into each other, the way you become each other as naturally does Hannibal slip both within your psyche and within your body; so completely do you love him that he brings all of your trashed and scattered pieces back together as naturally as he breathes. You give him ample reason to not be caught, to keep his freedom, and in return, he lives for you. You are meant to be, dearheart, and only a fool would question it.

[beeprblog]

Beepr Goes To Shows: Governor’s Ball 2021.

In this first installment of Beepr Goes To Shows, I spent all 3-days at this years Governor’s Ball to give you crowd coverage you deserve and concert recaps/reviews you want. Stay tuned for more show write-ups and other updates!

Freddie Gibbs and The Alchemist

What happens when you put two legends on the same stage? You get one hell of a fucking show. Freddie Gibbs and The Alchemist were on another level that Friday afternoon, delivering classics from Madlib collaborative albums (Crime Pays, Fake Names, Palm Olive, Thuggin), recent singles from Freddie (Big Boss Rabbit, Gang Signs), and all your favorite offerings from Alfredo (Baby $Hit, Scottie Beam, Something To Rap About). The braggadocious swagger Freddie brings to the stage is tempered by Alchemist’s suave production and generally reserved demeanor, making them a very balanced performance. Despite being an acclaimed producer, you get the sense that The Alchemist is there to support Freddie rather than make the performance about himself. Freddie’s natural humor shines through in between songs, cracking jokes while taking tokes and hitting a bottle of Hennessy. Chants of “Fuck police,” cheers for the Alchemist, and concert-goers belting choruses created a deafening atmosphere, rivaling some sold out indoor venues I’ve visited. To call Freddie a cult artist would be disrespectful of all the mainstream achievements (Grammy nominations, cracking Billboard Top 25s, etc), and yet for some reason, he remains on the fringes of superstardom. Part of what people love about Freddie Gibbs is his larger than life personality, as he has an authenticity about him that’s naturally charismatic. If there’s anything I can be certain about after that set, it’s that Freddie Gibbs and The Alchemist have undeniable chemistry and I hope they have more on the way.

Phoebe Bridgers

In January of 2018, a report from Nielsen Music identified that rap had surpassed rock in terms of overall music consumption. But Phoebe Bridgers will not allow her genre to go quietly into the night. She very well may be the next iteration of a rockstar. From her band all being in uniform, to the stage production, and most importantly, her diehard fans: Phoebe Bridgers is killing it in all aspects of the game. Apparently, I had been living under rock for quite some time as I only did a deep dive into her music when I saw her on the Governor’s Ball lineup announcement. How foolish was I? Phoebe has an incredible catalogue despite being only 27 (bolstered by her work with groups like Boygenius and Better Oblivion Community Center). Songs like Motion Sickness, Garden Song, and ICU feel more like Phoebe hosting a singalong, as the entire crowd is belting back each and every lyric at the top of their lungs with emphatic energy. Tracks like Kyoto also fall into that category, but there’s an immense rush of excitement as the brilliance of Bridger’s music blares through over the speakers for the chorus. Ballads like I Know The End are blissful moments of serenity, as I found myself swaying with my eyes closed in my little spot in the crowd. Her nonchalance in between songs is intoxicating, as it’s a beautiful contrast to her immensely emotive and personal performance. It’s so endearing to see past what’s on the outside and find an individual who profoundly cares about their work. What perhaps is most endearing about Phoebe’s performance is how she’s unabashedly herself: quips like “Fuck nihilism, too” are interjected in between songs, her outfit a glamorized rendition of the classic skeleton t-shirts. While I might have been late to the party in terms of the Phoebe Bridgers hype train, you can bet I’m going to be early to every one of her shows from here on out.  

A$AP Rocky

As Saturday night of Governor’s Ball was drawing near to an end, there were millions of individual conversations buzzing around in the crowd. But almost all of them were centered around one question: When will A$AP Rocky start? At 9:12pm EST, our question was answered, with a bang. Crowd surfing around in an inflatable car, bullhorn in hand, Rocky showed off some new sounds as unreleased tracks (Grim Freestyle amongst the slew of unreleased tracks) boomed over speakers. Mosh pits opened up left and right as the concert slowly evolved into a beautiful, New York block party-esque chaos. Hearing recent work like his features on Slowthai’s MAZZA and Famous Dex’s PICK IT UP were unexpected yet gratifying moments. But what really amplified the crowd was hearing some of the “older” radio hits. I can’t remember a time in recent memory when I’ve been as excited as when the first synths on LPFJ2 and Telephone Calls hit. Classics like Praise Da Lord and Yamborghini High ensured that there were no lapses in energy or excitement. Babushka Boi set the crowd ablaze, as the off-key notes intermingled in the beat acted as cues for the rowdy meter to kick it up a notch. Rocky even gave up some of his set to ensure the rest of the Mob was represented, as he had the DJ play Plane Jane by A$AP Ferg. The softer side of Rocky’s discography was met with equal anticipation as Sundress and A$AP Forever were met with exuberant cheers. Fully embracing his trippy side, after asking us if we liked hallucinogens, Rocky performed L$D to a roaring crowd (he also teased us with the unreleased Mushroom Clouds after asking us if we fucked with mushrooms too). During what felt like a showcase of the Harlem rappers’ ability to generate raucous ovation, the time had the crew informed Rocky his set had to be wrapped up. An earnest plea to keep it going was made, begging to at least get off Peso, but the euphoria was always going to be finite. It’s safe to say, anyone saying Rocky fell off is full of it.

Burna Boy

From start to finish, Burna Boy kept it hot. Bringing plenty of Nigerian flair to the CitiField air, I can safely say that Burna Boy’s set was one of the most enjoyable of the weekend. Even before he appeared, loud chants imploring him to take the stage could be heard ringing throughout the grounds. As his band and mom (who doubles as his manager) patiently waited, you could see them grinning and laughing as they knew we were in for a great show. Burna Boy then graced the stage and we were transported to another world, filled with laid back vibes, political protest, and triumph. Opening up with Gbona, it was apparent that the entire show was going to be electric. Hitting dance moves, grinning from ear to ear, it was obvious that Burna Boy planned on making a stellar first impression at the Governor’s Ball (he also earned major New York brownie points by giving us an animated performance of his velvety feature on Enjoy Yourself by Pop Smoke). Hearing some of my favorite songs live cemented them even further in the favorites category, as his performance adds another level of fun and personality. Collateral Damage, a beautifully subverted political protest anthem, felt truly harmonious as the entire crowd chanted the chorus with their fists in the air. As much as I love my AirPods, the heartfelt energy of both the crowd and Burna Boy I felt in the crowd during Anybody and Dangote could never be matched by speakers. Even the less upbeat songs (such as Wetin Man Go Do) he performed were met with incredibly cheerful reactions as. Live riffs from the band during some of his most popular singles added great spice for those who are familiar but equally exciting for new listeners. It’s apparent that there’s a great sense of camaraderie amongst the whole crew, that their main goal is to put on a memorable and joyous show. I can only hope that Burna Boy and the band make trips to the states more frequently.

Ellie Goulding

Have you ever felt the urge to forget everything that’s worrying you and just live in the here and now? Then you should go to as many Ellie Goulding shows as humanly possible. There’s a good chance you’re already familiar with some of her work (I’ll get to that in a bit), but it’s an entirely other thing to see her bring them to life. Hidden under the surface of a soft-spoken, singer-songwriter is a powerhouse performer, ready to give the show and attendees her everything. Watching her confidence grow during the set, seeing her come out of a shell that had likely developed as a result of not touring, was a beautiful sight to behold. In between comments about how grateful she was to be performing, quips about her outfit, you really got to watch her conviction begin to grow and take root. Anthemic at every instance, the crowd was equally ready to return the same energy Goulding graced us with. The only thing that was all over the place about her refined and poised performance was the eclectic mix of work she pulled from. From Lights (and yes, if you’re curious, that shit slapped) all the way up to her latest album, Brightest Blue, we got treated to the Ellie Goulding evolution set. Intermingling a solid slate of collaborations like Diplo’s Close To Me (I don’t know if I’ve ever sung along as fervently as I did for that one), Calvin Harris’ I Need Your Love (okay, I lied, this is the one where I lost my voice), and Major Lazer’s Powerful, there was a reference point regarding how they discovered Goulding for everyone in the audience. Hearing oldies like Aftertaste, Anything Could Happen, and Only You instantly transported me to simpler times, back when bills and deadlines seemed like an abstract concept. In another edition of music star leads a sing-a-long, the crowd could have taken over for Lights and Love Me Like You Do. Thankfully, we got to hear Ellie too. It’s a magical moment when a few hundred (maybe a full thousand) are all united by one common goal: to embrace the present and shower the performer with adoration in the form of knowing every lyric. Harmony amongst total strangers, tied together through a common love of music. Ellie Goulding gave us more than one of the best sets from the weekend, she gave us a sense of unity and togetherness unlike any other I’ve experienced.

Post Malone

When you find a superstar, with millions of fans and millions in the bank, that you feel like you can still crack open a crispy Bud Light, you’ve found something special. And we all know that Post Malone loves a cold one. The final chapter of Governor’s Ball 2021 ended with Post Malone’s Sunday night set, a perfect way to wind down the weekend. Opening up the set with an inquisitive “Hello?” to test out the mic, this show was one of the most authentic and down-to-earth concerts I’ve been to in quite some time. It almost feels like you’re just hanging out hearing some song ideas from your friend Austin Post, wearing some regular denim shorts and a “Where’s Waldo” style striped shirt, until the audible roars from the crowd of “Posty” remind you you’re at a headliner. Arguably the most larger-than-life aspect of Post’s set was his entrance on the stage, via a smoke-cloud suspended platform adorned with metal chains. With a healthy mix of beerbongs & bentley’s, Hollywood’s Bleeding, recent singles and old hits, Post Malone was showing us all of his repertoire. Chugging beers at the request of the crowd, checking in with all of us in between songs, calling for celebration and happiness, Post goes to great lengths to ensure that the crowd is with it and that everyone is having a good time. Tracks like Psycho were somehow both relaxing and energizing at the same time, as the chorus transformed the venue into an incredible echo-chamber. We also got to see how many friends Post has, as we got guest appearances from Young Thug (performing Goodbyes), Roddy Rich (gracing us with Every Season and The Box), and 21 Savage (to perform Rockstar, which Post Malone did his best to embody all night). With each feature, the crowd seemed to kick into another fear of excitement, but that’s not to say people didn’t lose it for some of Post’s solo work. Stay, which Post performed seated strumming an acoustic guitar, was as heartfelt as it could get in its stripped down state. Despite previously admitting to not being able to sing without autotune, you could see how much he cared about capping off the weekend right while performing that song (without autotune in an effort to be as real as possible). White Iverson and Congratulations were both barn-burners, as the whole festival grounds were chanting lyrics and bouncing along. After a very long weekend of raging and raving, Post Malone’s set managed to run through the whole gambit of festival emotions: joy, excitement, surprise, and relief. It’d be disingenuous to say anything other than Austin Post has mastered the art of headlining.

[purrincess-chat]

The Fall of Rome CH 2 (Final) [REUPLOAD]

I tweaked and fixed the inconsistencies in this one as well as a couple minor things in CH1, so hopefully it’s a bit more coherent now. 

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

It was risky. She knew it was. Plus, there was no guarantee that he’d actually say yes. Revenge wasn’t really her style, but after everything Lila had done…she had to try.

“No, no, I said without nuts, Mr. Stone is very- hang on, oh, Marinette, hi,” Penny said, lowering her phone onto her shoulder. “What can I help you with?”

“Um, I have a school project, and I have to interview someone who inspires me, and I was hoping Jagged would be willing,” Marinette said, holding up a blue folder with a smile.

“Yes, confirm the hair appointment- uh, Marinette, Jagged is kind of booked up today. When do you need to interview him by?” She asked then into her phone said, “be sure the M&Ms don’t have nuts this time.”

“I have to present it by tomorrow,” she said, and Penny tapped her pen on her lip. “3rd period. It’s around 11.”

“Can you do it live? Jagged has a little free time from 11 to 12 tomorrow,” Penny said, and Marinette pressed her lips together to hide her smirk.

“That would be great. Thanks, Penny!” Marinette said with a smile and a wave, but before she headed back up the hall, she paused to retrieve a folded note from her purse. “Um, one more thing…Can you give this to him for me?”

Penny eyed the letter as her phone rang, leaving little time for questions. She snatched the note and offered Marinette a parting smile and nod before shutting the suite door. Marinette clasped her hands behind her back, heading for the elevator with a triumphant smile.  

Step one of her plan was in motion. Now she just needed to focus on not going to far with step two. A lot of her friends were really angry with Lila, and she understood their feelings more than anyone. But it wouldn’t do them any good to humiliate Lila and harden her heart even more. If they wanted to get through to her, they needed to be smart about this.

The following day, Marinette went about business as usual, but as 3rd period drew closer, her nerves flared up with vigor. What if this all went horribly wrong? What if Lila managed to spin it back on her somehow? What if Jagged didn’t show, and she failed her project? She wasn’t sure which question scared her more.

“Yo, Marinette!” Well, she supposed she didn’t have to worry about one of those fears as Jagged approached her in the courtyard. He draped an arm over her shoulders with a wide grin, mussing her hair affectionately. “Inspired by your ol’ Uncle Jagged, are ya? Are you sure I shouldn’t be the one interviewing you?”

“You’re not getting a grade on it,” she giggled. “Thank you for coming. I know you’re busy.”

“I’m never too busy for my favorite little lady. We can rock out anytime,” he said, leaning down to her level and glancing around. “Now, which one is the troublemaker?”

“Oh, you’ll know her when you see her. She lies with every breath, and she threatened to turn everyone against me,” Marinette said and crossed her arms over her chest. “But she won’t be lying for long. A majority of the class has learned her little secret, and I’m sure once she sees you, she’ll know her little reign is over.” She paused for a moment, pursing her lips before asking, “You don’t think I’m being too mean with all of this, do you?”

“Not in the slightest. If it were me, I’d have called me up to expose her ages ago, and I’d have a crate of snakes delivered to her door. I did that once to a bloke who used me to get into the VIP section at an awards show once, so if you’re in the market, I know a guy,” Jagged said with a shrug. “Some people need to be called out or else they’ll never stop using others.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said as the bell rang, and she took a deep breath. “Well, let’s go hunt the fox, shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

Not wanting to cause a commotion, Marinette instructed Jagged to wait in the hall until it was time for her to present, and she locked eyes with Alya who quirked a brow the moment she entered the room. She gave an affirming nod that brought a smirk to her best friend’s lips as she sat down.

“Okay, class. Today we are presenting our important figures interviews, so who would like to go first?” Mlle. Bustier asked.

“I will.” Marinette’s hand shot up, and Mlle. Bustier’s eyes widened in surprise before a delighted smile curled on her lips.

“Wonderful! Go ahead, Marinette.”

Marinette moved to the front of the room, shooting a pointed glare at Lila as her classmates in the loop leaned in expectantly.

“Well, the person I picked to interview has a very busy schedule, so I didn’t actually find time to interview him outside of class, but he graciously agreed to come today so I could conduct the interview right here,” she said, and several of her classmates grinned in unison as she opened the door to reveal Jagged Stone on the other side.

The room erupted with chatter as Jagged joined her at the front of the room, and Lila slipped down into her seat. Mlle. Bustier clapped her hands to regain order and nodded for Marinette to continue.

“Thank you for coming today, Jagged,” she said with a sweet smile.

“No sweat, Marinette. You’re part of the Stone family now,” he said, and Marinette flicked her gaze over to Lila who glared daggers at her before proceeding.

“Okay, so when did you first decide that you wanted to do music?” Marinette started, focusing on the interview since it was part of her grade. The real show didn’t start until afterward, so she may as well relax and get a good grade.

Jagged was, no doubt, a big hit with the rest of the class. He was such an animated character that Marinette almost forgot why she’d invited him here. Almost.

“One last question,” she said at the end, doing her best not to look up at Lila. “What advice can you give to someone like me?”

“Well, any artistic industry is going to come with challenges, and if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s to be careful who you trust. There are a lot of people in the world who are going to feed you pretty stories to make you trust them, but you should never believe people so easily,” he said. “Because a lot of the time, they just want to use you. I’ve been burned many times by record companies, assistants, and even friends. Your support system is vital when you’re starting out and have nothing because those people are going to be the ones cheering you on from the beginning, so be sure that the people in it are truly people with your best interests at heart.”

The class applauded, and Marinette stretched up to hug Jagged. It was showtime.

“Hey, Jagged, can I get a picture with you for my blog?” Alya asked, holding up her phone.

“Yeah, can I get an autograph!”

“Me too!”

Her classmates crowded around him, that is, all save but one. Jagged flicked his gaze to Marinette who gave him a nod.

“I’ve really got to be off, so why don’t we do a group photo?” He said, glancing over everyone until his eyes found Lila still sitting at the back of the room. “Oy, you, what’s your name? Don’t you want to be in the picture?”

“What? You mean you don’t recognize her?” Kim asked with a laugh, and when Lila stiffened, Marinette felt her stomach do a somersault.

“Should I?” He placed his hands on his hips, squinting a little for show. “Wait, have I had you thrown out of my suite before?”

“Lila saved your precious kitten when it got lost on an airport runway before you found out you were allergic, that is. Surely, such a heroic deed wouldn’t be so easily forgotten,” Max said, and Jagged rubbed the back of his head.

“Uh, right, except, ya see, I’ve had Fang a long time. Longer than any of you have been alive. He was my first fan, and he’s been my best friend most of my life,” Jagged said. “I’ve never even owned a kitten. I’m more of a reptile guy.”

Lila’s jaw clenched at everyone’s collective gasp, her shoulders curling when every eye in the room trained on her.

“So then, there’s no way Lila could have saved your kitten,” Alix said with mocking disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Which means that Lila lied?” Nathaniel frowned, and the girl in question glared through Marinette before standing up and racing from the room.

“See what I mean? This happens all the time when you’re famous. People make up all kinds of stories to impress people, but most of them aren’t even true,” Jagged sighed as if it couldn’t be helped. “If there’s any young lady out there who’s saved me, it’s Marinette who kept my image from being ruined by the likes of Bob Roth. She’s my true hero.”

Her cheeks flushed as Jagged wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gestured for everyone to gather around.

“Say Jagged!”

***

The news of Lila’s farce spread fast, and by lunch everyone suddenly remembered how the internet worked and her lies had all been debunked. Marinette should have been happy, especially when all of her friends apologized for doubting her, but she couldn’t shake the pit in her stomach as she pushed food around on her tray.

The whole school knew Lila was a liar now which is what she’d always wanted, but for some reason, she couldn’t quite bring herself to celebrate. She shouldn’t feel guilty because Lila did it to herself. The truth was bound to come out in the end, so why then did Marinette feel so uneasy?

Maybe it was an early phase of food poisoning. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Adrien hadn’t met her eye all day because despite giving his permission, he hadn’t been immensely impressed with the whole debacle they’d arranged. Or maybe in some grand stretch of the imagination, she actually felt sorry for Lila. As horrible as she was, everyone deserved a chance to change, right? To make amends? Of course, she could argue that she’d given Lila that chance on many occasions, but it was different this time. This time, Rome had actually fallen, and Lila had gotten crushed under the bricks.

Sometimes Marinette hated her conscience.

“Adrien,” she said, shrinking a little as he paused rearranging his books in his locker to look over his shoulder. When he saw it was her, he lowered his gaze and turned back.

“Hey, Marinette,” he said, and her heart splintered at his dismissive tone. It was distant and curt. Cold, almost.

“I know you’re probably mad at me for exposing her like that,” she said, and Adrien shook his head.

“I’m not mad,” he said, finally flicking those green eyes up to meet her gaze. “After all, I left the choice in your hands, but I guess in a way I’m just…disappointed.” When she lowered her head, he continued, “I just thought that…if anyone could get through to her and help her, it’d be you, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s best if we just let her live with the consequences.”

“Or maybe we still can,” she said, taking a breath. “I have an idea, but I’ll need your help.”

 An hour later, Marinette rang Lila’s doorbell, her shoulders tense, but this was the right thing to do. At least, she hoped.

“Hello, Mme. Rossi,” she said when Lila’s mother answered the door.

“Oh, goodness, you must be Lila’s school friends,” she said, taking in the large group standing behind Marinette.

“That’s right. We were hoping to have a movie night with Lila,” Marinette explained, and Kim held up their selections.

“How fun! I was just on my way out, so this is perfect timing. Lila gets lonely while I’m at work, and I know she’s very shy and has trouble fitting in. It’s so sweet that you all came to help her feel welcome.” Mme. Rossi placed a hand over her heart. It seemed as though they weren’t the only people Lila lied to, but Marinette wasn’t about to correct her. “Lila! Your friends from school are here, and I’m heading out.”

The girl in question crept out of her room with narrow, skeptical eyes that flicked between each face as if bracing herself for the inevitable ridicule. But it never came.

“Kim brought the movies, and Nino and Ivan got snacks,” Marinette said, but Lila just crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why are you all here?” She asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Because we’re your friends, Lila,” Nino said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right, you guys just came here to rub it in,” she said with a huff, and Marinette glanced at Adrien who gave her an encouraging nod.

“Lila, we came here because we want you to know that you don’t have to lie to us to get us to like you. We want to be friends with you – the real you, if you want,” Marinette said, and her friends all gave nods of agreement. “So, what do you say?”

Lila held her gaze for a long time, searching it for any hint of deceit, but each face only reflected the same warmth. A warmth that, if Marinette had to guess, she wasn’t used to seeing because after a moment, she averted her gaze.

“I don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head. “You should all hate me.”

“Oh, trust me,” Alya said with a laugh. “We did.”

“But Marinette convinced us to give you a second chance because someone who tries so hard to get attention from others must be missing it in their life,” Nino said, draping an arm over Marinette’s shoulders. “Marinette is the glue that holds us all together, and she can always bring out the good in others if you let her.”

“It’s true. She’s even made Chloe a bit less unsufferable at times this year,” Nathaniel said.

“We’ll be your friends,” Mylene started.

“On one condition,” Alix said, holding up her index finger.

“No more lies.” It was Adrien who spoke, and he gave her a chiding look.

Lila pursed her lips and shifted her weight. She was quiet for a long time, and Marinette almost expected her to kick them out. But when she flicked those green eyes that had once been so guarded and hostile back at Marinette, they now carried a sense of insecurity and fear as if she wanted to reach out but forgot how to move her arms.

“Fine,” she said, and Marinette’s lips broke into a smile as the class crowded around Lila, piling into an awkward embrace.

Of course, it took a long time for Lila to fully build their trust again, and they took everything she said with a grain of salt for a while. It was to be expected, but over time, Lila relaxed and so did they. Her smiles came more freely. Her laughs were less forced, and as Marinette watched her chatting with Mylene and Alya across the locker room, she couldn’t help but smile. And that was before Adrien approached her.

“You really are a hero, Marinette,” he said, and her spine stiffened.

“I- what? I’m what? You- I’m not a- no.” At his laugh, she realized what he’d meant and that her cover was safe, and she laughed too.

“I don’t suppose you could change Chloe?” He quirked a brow, and Marinette made a face.

“One self-absorbed girl at a time, please,” she said, and Adrien smirked.

“Yeah, I know. She’s gonna take a lot of work, but I bet between the two of us, we can get through to her,” he said, nudging her with his elbow. “I’m really glad you decided to help her. You really are amazing.”

He patted her shoulder before retreating back up the aisle, and Marinette bit her lip hard to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t.

Lila had come a long way since she came to their school. She’d learned the hard way that kingdoms built on lies would only crumble, but like any fallen empire, it can be reborn, this time with truth and the help of new friends. Lila found that damage could be mended brick-by-brick if she was just willing to open herself up, and Marinette, for one, was glad to have a new friend instead of an enemy.

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 10

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 10 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 10 Prompt: Bunnies

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1542

Tags: language, angst, fluff, original character

Chapter 10

Sirius

Panic! At The Disco, “Mad as Rabbits”

Come save me from walking off a windowsill

Or I'll sleep in the rain.

Don't you remember when I was a bird

And you were a map?

Sirius hurt. It felt like there was a hole in his chest where his heart had been. He went with Remus to the Tattoo Lounge because it was better than drinking himself into a pickle at home alone. In truth, he was quite thankful for Remus. The day ended much better than it began, which wasn’t saying much considering how the day started. But Sirius would take any improvement at the moment.

He found he enjoyed watching Remus run his shop. Lily had taken a few messages for him in his absence, so he rang those people first. After that he had a steady stream of customers the rest of the day. Some by appointment and some by walk-in. A few were consultations, and Sirius was impressed by his friend’s compassion and professionalism. In the lull between customers Remus and Sirius would chat, or sometimes they would sit in comfortable silence and Sirius would watch Remus sketch.

One woman had an appointment for her very first tattoo. Sirius remembered being nervous when he got his first ink, but this woman seemed over the moon excited. She brought a friend with her. The friend waited on the leather couch that sat back in the tattooing area of the shop while Remus discussed tattoo plans with the woman. In the end they developed a plan for a half sleeve involving a Mammoth Sunflower, a few common daisy blossoms, and a Monarch butterfly. The sketch Remus created was beyond beautiful. Even though this would be the first of at least three sittings, Sirius was sure the end result would look so realistic, one would expect the butterfly to flap its wings and fly away.

Remus took a break mid-day and explained, “People are looking for more than a tattoo. They’re looking for an experience. The customers I like to work with are looking for a one-of-a-kind piece of art to display on their body. Every piece I do is an extension of myself. And these people walk around the world with it for the rest of their life.”

Wow. Sirius placed his right hand over the rose tattoo. There was not another exactly like it in the whole world. For the first time in many days, he felt a tiny light flicker inside him. A tiny light of hope that told him he would make it through the pain and heartache in which he had been absorbed.

Later on around mid-afternoon, Sirius and Remus were chatting about nothing in particular while Remus cleaned up his equipment from a walk-in. The walk-in had requested a geometric mandala design between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t Sirius’ style, but the man had seemed pleased with it. Then the bell over the door dinged, and in sauntered Logan. Sirius was beside himself, giddy with excitement to watch him interact with Remus. He tried the best he could to blend in with the wall, and watch the show.

When the door opened, Remus looked up from his cleaning. His expression turned to one of surprise to see Logan moving stealthily toward him. Logan didn’t even notice Sirius sitting in the corner. From the moment he walked in, he only had eyes for Remus.

“Hey, Remus,” Logan said.

Remus blushed. “Uh, hey, Logan.” He nervously wiped his hands on his trousers.

“You never called me.” Logan was within arm's distance of Remus now, and he stopped.

“Erm…” Remus scratched the back of his head. “No...I guess I didn’t. No that, um...not that I didn’t want to, but…”

He’s so awkward! Sirius thought to himself. He’d never seen Remus so flustered. It was kind of adorable.

“It’s ok,” Logan said with a chuckle. “I am still interested in a tattoo though.” The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Right! Yeah, of course,” Remus said. “Just uh…” He cleared a space for them to sit, and grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil. “Here, have a seat.”

They took a seat on the leather couch. Sirius was covertly pretending to flip through a magazine in the far corner, and was therefore too far away to make out much of their conversation. But he could see, and that was enough. Logan was so obviously flirty.

He started off on the opposite side of the couch from Remus. But after about fifteen minutes or so, he had slowly worked his way closer to Remus. Then there was the way he kept brushing his hair back. And any excuse to touch Remus: his shoulder, his elbow, his knee...Godric, this guy was a bit much.

Logan was throwing everything he had at Remus, but Remus seemed oblivious. Remus maintained an air of professionalism throughout the entire consultation. Sirius was surprised Logan hadn’t jumped into Remus’ lap by the end. It was about the only thing he hadn’t done to get Remus’ attention. There is such a thing as coming on too strong, but this Logan fella never got that hint.

Finally Logan cleared out, and Remus approached Sirius. “Do you trust me?” he asked. He was holding a sketchbook to his chest, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Sirius didn’t need to think twice.

“Come over here.” Remus motioned with his hand and walked toward the chairs. “Pull up your right pant leg, and lay down on your stomach.”

“Excuse me?” Sirius laughed and put his hands on his hips. “What is happening now?”

Remus tapped his foot and repeated himself, “Pull up your right pant leg, and lay down on your stomach.” He gestured toward the padded bench. “You said you trusted me, right?” He tilted his head down with a smirk.

Why do I feel like I might regret this? Sirius asked himself as he did as Remus directed. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you’ve decided needs to be permanently marked on my body.”

“Nope.”

Brilliant.

A couple silent hours later, Remus announced he was done. “Before you look at it, I want to tell you something.” He came around and crouched down in front of Sirius and looked him dead in the eyes. The intensity Sirius saw there was intimidating, but he did not break eye contact. “What you have gone through, and what you have yet to go through, is really hard. This is just a stumble in your road, it’s not the end of your journey. Haruki Murakami once said, ‘Such wounds to the heart will probably never heal. But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.’ I hope this piece can be the beginning of your healing.”

Sirius's mouth had gone dry. The tiny light grew a little brighter. He twisted to look at his calf. Is that a fucking bunny? “Is that a fucking bunny?!” Oops, I said that out loud. “A bunny and a...crescent moon? Why?”

“Calm down, shut up, and listen.”

I’ll shut up and listen, but that doesn’t mean I’ll calm down. Sirius fixed Remus with a stare and tried to convey a hurry-up-before-I-lose-it expression.

“What do you know about rabbit spirit animals?”

“Remus, my animagus is a dog...why would I care about a rabbit spirit animal?”

“A rabbit spirit animal symbolizes a person who has no problem expressing happiness and affection when it comes to people they love. You have so much love in your heart Sirius, that is why it hurts so much right now. Your animagus form may be a dog, but I think that dog’s spirit animal is a rabbit.”

Sirius mulled Remus’ words over in his head. No problem expressing happiness and affection to people I love. It hurts so much, because I love so much? No...because I have so much love to give. I give my love freely. Too freely? No...the people I love deserve my love. But why does it have to hurt so much? Kind of ironic that a dog’s spirit animal would be a rabbit since the two are natural enemies.

“Ok, then what about the crescent moon?” he asked. That bit didn’t really make sense.

“Well,” Remus said, “the rabbit is an animal of the moon. And I thought it looked cool.”

It was a cool design now that he looked more closely. A tribal hare, rearing on it’s back legs. It sort of looked like it was playing with the crescent moon. Why did Remus not quite meet his eyes with that explanation though?

“You can stay here tonight, if you want.” Remus offered, disrupting his thoughts. “I just mean...on your own didn’t pan out so well...you’re always welcome here anytime…” His sentence sort of wandered off after that.

“Um…” Sirius knew he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts tonight. He had tried being alone the past few days, and look where it landed him. He also didn’t want to be a burden on his best friend. He also remembered with vivid clarity that Remus walks around in his boxers in the morning.

“Let’s at least get a bite from Potter’s,” Remus said, “I’m starving. Then you can decide what you want to do.” Remus swished his wand and his equipment flew back to their respective shelves. He cast a disinfecting Scourgify and turned to Sirius with a smile.

Next Chapter: Chapter 11

[nexstrik]

Chiaroscuro (LOZ: Twilight Princess)

A/N: Written for Sass :)

Summary: Zelda and Link learn how to talk to each other. They paint a picture of someone they miss.

Warnings: None! Enjoy this safe-for-work story.

You can also read this story on AO3.

There was time enough for things to return to how they always were. There'd always been time, really, except for that one brief period in his life where the world turned upside. It was strange to think about. All the wondrous and the bizarre, the occult and the terrifying, had only occurred over the span of a few short months.

Link's life stretched out, time hazy like roads in the summer. Hot stones warped the air, mirages making the distance glitter like an oasis in the desert. Enough heat made the world look wet. Maybe just a trick of the eye to give the body some relief. Enough monotony makes the familiar feel crushing. Maybe just his instincts itching for another fight, any other fight, to kickstart his heart again.

All the years the future held yawned out before him, uncertain and vague. There was time enough for everything he ever wanted to do.

But his heart was humble, and mainly...

...He wanted some goats.

So Zelda bought him a few. She liked the idea, too.

Every other month she came and spent a few weeks with him. Of course he visited her too. Day trips to the castle with the saddlebags full of gifts. Fresh fruit from the trees. Bottles of wine, his first few attempts. Young wine, some of it painfully sweet. The citron trees on his property made some pretty delicious dry, pale yellow draughts, though. The kids insisted on writing letters to the princess, and of course Link carried them all.

And Link whittled a lot. He captured scenes from his daily life. At first it had been something to pass the time. He did not intend to give them to Zelda. He figured a princess could get finer carvings from anyone in the kingdom. But Zelda gasped in delight the first time she saw what he was working on in his idle hours. She demanded he finish, and he produced a jagged little bear, off-shape and poorly proportioned.

Zelda had a shelf next to her bed and lined it with small animals, from his first crude attempts to the current ones. When he realized Zelda intended to keep all of them, Link doubled down on his attempts to make them prettier.

He motioned her closer, a flutter of fingertips. His hands stained black with ink because he'd been helping her with paperwork all day. It reminded him of those days in the dirt, paws sinking into black earth, or hands covered in the black pitch of monster guts.

"Please throw that away," he rasped, the first words he'd said in at least sixteen months, and Zelda's laughter sounded like bells pealing.

The woefully misshapen little bear remained on her shelves. A point of pride, she said. His greatest mistake, he lamented, in notes and signs.

She offered to keep him in her palace guard. Her hero for all of time. Constant training. Fine armor. Respect. Recognition. A job. Good prospects if he wanted a spouse.

He said no. She asked why. He didn't answer, not just because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to.

Money? Treasures? What did he want?

Link rolled his eyes and showed her something else:

Once he had been out at night, seeking something akin to the days when he wore a wolf skin. The darkness was oppressive and the scents didn't tell any stories. Walking as a human when not even the moon hung in the sky was like trying to navigate with a cloth sack over your head. He tripped and fell and stumbled, literally, through rotting boards and clinging vines and knocked his head right against a thick wooden chest.

He cracked it open with his sword and reached inside and found old silk clothes, paper that had shredded to nothing, and a dim medallion. Taking it home, he polished it until it shone brightly.

Treasure, he could find anywhere. He didn't need the princess for that.

Then what did he need her for?

In the castle they had more paper than they knew what to do with, and so much ink a man could drown in it. So they wrote letters to each other, though they were only a room apart. Letters every night, exchanging words and thoughts and feelings.

Very few words were spoken aloud between them unless they were out on Link's farm. She wore simple cotton dresses and a wide-brimmed hat to protect her skin. Old habits. Grandmother had always been after her for sitting out in the sun too long. She sketched the plants and herbs and took notes and scientific observation. On the edge of the lake, she spread her skirts and settled down while he waded in calf-deep and started fishing for dinner.

"If you can't catch anything I am perfectly content with the vegetables you roasted," she called out after him.

His broad shoulders went a little straighter. No words were needed; he solidly ignored her and cast another line, letting her know that he would catch dinner or die trying.

He'd left his knife with her. It rested on her lap along with a block of solid wood. Earlier in the morning he'd given her a quick lesson. His hands had curved over hers, showing her the grain and where to follow. If she looked closely enough she could see the shape hiding within the wood, aching to be released. A wolf, if her hands were nimble enough.

The shavings piled up around her as her clumsy first attempts resulted in a stiff-legged monstrosity. Link returned to shore with a grimly smug expression and three fat trouts. He beat his chest with one fist. I return with sustenance! I provide! I am man! Hear me roar!

It all fell on deaf ears. She was too preoccupied with her rubbish wolf.

"It's awful," she said, covering her face with both hands and burning up.

Solidly, he disagreed, and pocketed the little carving. When they went back to his house he set it on a shelf by his bed, looking over his shoulder and smiling at her.

What did he need her for?

In Zelda's castle they spoke through art and ink again. There was so much she wanted to share with him, and now, now finally there was time. Time and no danger. The blues and greens spoke to him. As she suspected, an artist's heart shone through the steel and grease and animal fat.

"How abstract," she said, and then taught him about chiaroscuro.

Link's eyes went ablaze with determination, fiery and powerful, and everything about the paintings and the carvings radically shifted. Ink and charcoal bilious and slick, covering him to the wrists and smudged on his cheek in an idle moment of concentration. He showed her the places they only visited in dreams. The other side of the coin, the flipside of the mirror.

Presenting it to her, he always accepted commentary with grace. Of course she loved everything he did, but as he developed, he started asking for her to cut him with real criticism. That prompted her to ask why he assumed that she knew better than him. Art was deeply personal, after all.

"I can't tell you if it's good," she said. "It doesn't matter what I think."

"I don't care if it's good," he wrote back. "I want to know if you like it. That's more important to me."

Zelda took another look at the painting. Black, white, gray. Link moved away from the pastoral, perfectly detailed renditions of his home town. He had started straying into the things that really dwelled in his heart.

He drew a shape as seen from the corner of one eye, a glinting smile and red hair. Two vivid sundrops of color, toxic yellow eyes with burning irises.

"She's beautiful," Zelda said. "It's all beautiful."

Sometimes it was. Other times it was grotesque. But it was always a relief, the way a lanced boil lessens all that tight, hot pain and pressure.

One evening she kissed his cheek goodnight, stopping only when he grabbed her hand and yanked her a little closer. He frowned as he kissed the back of her palm. It blazed a path up every inch of her veins, sparking up the side of her neck and tingling all over her scalp. She went to bed wondering if she could ignore it or if maybe it was time to stop pretending she didn't desperately want to know why he needed her. Because she definitely knew why she wanted him.

In his cottage on the farm there was less room for decency and more room on his bed, though the first time she fell asleep there had been an accident. They had been talking and the next thing she knew she was listening to his heart, wound tightly in his arms, protected.

"Why do you desire my company?" she asked once, not out of insecurity but because she needed to know his intents.

"I can't just like being around you?" he responded, before tickling her nose with the end of his quill. No one else would have dared. "You're my friend."

Then his throat tightened, bobbing with strain.

"You're the only one who remembers her," he said.

The rest was clear enough in everything he made. Midna was always there in his shadows, in every step he took. Zelda did understand. She he felt Midna's presence in everything. In the length of her silhouette. In the sharp points the sun cast on the ground when it hit the tip of her crown.

Zelda laced their fingers together.

The lake rested, placid, buzzing with insects. Soon the leaves would change and the real darkness take hold. Longer nights and shorter mornings. Soon there'd be one more year between them and that brief stretch of time when the worlds could have fused together, but they didn't.

The sun was at their backs, slowly sinking down over the mountains. The winds would whip them down to their bones soon, if they stayed outside. But they waited until their shadows stretched long and thin as smoke trails in the sky. Then the night swallowed them entire.

"She's always here, Link," Zelda assured him. One nail carved a path up the veins on his arm, up to his heart. "She'll always be with us."

"Sometimes... I can't... remember... her voice," he admitted, haltingly, in shame, his voice rusted from disuse. "Her face."

"Then let's go look at her," she suggested, fingers twisting at the lamp they'd brought out with them. A flame burned, and she led him into his cottage. There hung one of the paintings they'd worked on together. Each of them worked to fill the gaps where the other faltered. Both of them affixed the image of the twilight queen somewhere memory couldn't fade.

He sat with his head on her shoulder, eyes fixed to the painting, to the carvings on the shelves. They took their time contemplating it, in silence. They had all the time in the world, now,

She dared a little more illumination, brightening the room.

After all, you couldn't see your shadow in the dark.

[mooleche]

A Tale of Ink and Venom

A/N - It’s happening! I’m reworking the old story I was working on to hopefully build a better version in its place! Multi-chapter fic involving OC x Colossus where OCs story unfolds while trying to do a heroic act that ends badly and the chaos the unfolds in the aftermath. Might do a few chapters on here and then move over to AO3 fully eventually to keep from making super long posts but we’ll see how it goes! ( *’ω’* ) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Also BIG THANKS to @leo-writer for proofreading, you are a saint ily! 

₍₍ (ง Ŏ౪Ŏ)ว ⁾⁾

Chapter One: The Video

Moments.

Buddha says that one moment can change a day, one day can change a life and one life can change the world.

I was never one for religion but I think he was onto something there. Look at heroes, for example, they’re faced with moments like these every day. Ones that will save a life and ones that will take them away the second you hesitate. Moments that will give you the upper hand if you’re lucky and others that will leave you flat on your ass if you're not.

 Or worse. 

Now, I'm no hero by any means, but I like to think that the moments I experienced today would help shape what was in store for me tomorrow. A moment that would maybe even help shape me into something more someday.

So with that, let me ask you this:

Just what moment was it that led me to witness the death of a real superhero in his time of need? And not just any run of the mill death either. I'm talking blood everywhere, in my mouth, in my hair. 

Everywhere.

How had it all gone so wrong so fast?

I suppose in order to know that we have to go to the beginning, back to the morning where my life was about to be given a serious overhaul into chaos.

Back to college.

-

It was late. Very late.

A judgemental 3:45 AM stared back at me from the corner of my laptop's screen and a sigh of defeat escaped me. The Witching hour no longer belonged to ghosts and demons, but to college students that waited until the very last minute to get their 10-page essays written before it was too late. I was no exception to this, sacrificing the last remaining brain cells I had left to crap out what I deemed a passable paper on the artists of old. 

At least that's what I had been doing. 

Now I sat with my legs drawn up to my chest as I stared with growing exhaustion at my laptop. The glowing screen was flooded with news reports of the latest superhero successes and the villains they caught around town. This wasn’t exactly an uncommon thing for a city like Brooklynn. In fact, it was because of this city being such a hot zone for criminal activity that we had things like ‘Top 10 Villain Blunders of the Week’ to begin with.

Then, strangely, my eyes spotted something that I hadn’t expected to see.

I lurched forward, immediately feeling my body protest as I inspected the article that had grabbed my attention. It was a few days old, a journalist touching base on a series of unfortunate events from almost 6 months ago. A superhero trainee under the name of Deadpool had landed himself in hot water after murdering an orderly from the Essex House for Mutant Rehabilitation in what was seen as a cold-blooded attack to the media. Just reading the name of the facility left a bad taste in my mouth, but the video it included to recount the moment made the sensation even worse.

It was old, I had watched it over a dozen times in the recent months and yet I still found myself glued to the screen with morbid curiosity. The cameraman who had been focusing on a tense-looking reporter at the scene now fumbled clumsily over to the main event, a stout looking teen who had earlier called himself Firefist. I’d give you three guesses why he called himself that but taking a look at his clenched fists answered it all too well. 

He stood separated from a cautious crowd of police and bystanders with hands that radiated heat strong enough to cause everyone surrounding him to keep their distance. That was if all the destroyed wreckage around him hadn’t given them more than enough reason to stay back already.

As many times as I had seen this, I still felt bad for him. He looked worn down and angry, but more than anything was the noticeable expression of fear he wore, like a trapped animal willing to do anything to escape. A feeling that I was once all too familiar with.

I sank back into my chair and sighed. No amount of times seeing that clip made that look any easier to see. It was one that hit so close to home and yet I couldn't pinpoint it no matter how many times I tried. I closed my eyes and listened to him continue to threaten the police ballsy enough to step towards him:

"Stay back, I'll burn you!"

The words didn't resonate, but the tone did. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a memory lurking that I couldn't quite touch no matter how hard I focused on it. A memory sealed away so tight that even thinking about it caused my thoughts to grow numb, but that panic in the boy's voice always caused it to stir. Sometimes I felt like I was close enough to grasp it, all I needed was to push a little farther-

A loud bang erupted nearby and my eyes shot open in a panic. Whatever unconscious soul searching I had been doing was broken as I scrambled to catch my headphones now threatening to fall off my face. I looked around, both frantic to find the source to the sudden noise and also hoping no one saw my embarrassing act only to be greeted with muffled laughter nearby.

"Buenos Dias, Princesa! Did I wake you?"

I rubbed my eyes haphazardly and looked to the side of the small room to find a redheaded amazonian grinning back at me from the window. To my utter surprise, the sun was now out and shining it’s smug rays straight into our dorm as I stood to greet the grinning assailant. My bones protested with various cracks in response before I shuffled to my bed and threw open the window to face her.

"That wasn’t funny, Ava! What are you even doing up so early?" I asked through an unavoidable yawn, but I already knew the answer. Ava Santana was a Dominican powerhouse of energy, a mysterious enigma that seemed to only love running, German beer and, for a few crazy months, me. When she wasn’t burning the candle at both ends to keep her insane track record and an intimidating 4.0 GPA up, she was usually creating some wild new building blueprints that she was proud to show off to you before stealing your girlfriend. 

I didn’t know how she did it all and at this point, I was too afraid to ask.

She lifted herself onto the windowsill before tossing her shoes inside, swinging her long tan legs onto my bed to join me all in one fell swoop. All I could do was blink in surprise, knowing I would have faceplanted halfway through if I even attempted this motion. Her gaze studied me curiously now. 

"We both know why I’m awake, or were you expecting someone else to carry our track team to victory?" She teased, her face close to mine with a devious smile planted on her lips. “What's your excuse though, Sleeping Beauty? Building more schematics? Spying on the police scanner? Or maybe staying up late to watch him again?”

“Me? What? Hah, no. Can’t a girl just finish her essay like a good normal college student?”

“You could...if you’re not Nina Knight,” another voice announced beside us and I turned quickly to see another familiar face smirking back at us. Her name was Bambi Banks and she was known as the bad influencer extraordinaire of our dorm when she wasn’t taking candid photos for the Daily Bugle. You thought you had a bad idea? She had 10 at the ready that would probably get you put on the Top 10 lists. Despite this, she was the best friend a girl could ever ask for. 

Even if she now held my laptop in her hands frozen on a very particular shot of the clip that caused my face to burn.

“I really was working on my essay!” I protested as I reached for it only to fall short as Bambi moved just out of my range and looked to Ava curiously.

“I don’t know, Ava. Does this look like an essay to you?”

“You’re the journalist in training, tell us what you see.”

“Well if I had to title this ‘essay’, I would say ‘10 Reasons I Want This Man to Sit on My Fac-’”

“Alright, enough! You caught me,” I protested as I made another attempt to grab the laptop and succeeded, cradling it in my arms with a frown plastered on my face. “I just wanted to hear the update on this story…It put a lot of people in hot water y’know.” I added before taking a seat back at my desk, ignoring their victorious snickers. As much as I did have ulterior motives for watching the clip I really did want to see the outcome of the nationwide fiasco. Despite both the trainee and the kid being taken to the Ice Box to be reprimanded the X-Men and mutantkind as a whole were put under fire for their actions and the remainder of the story fell to a hush to the media in the months after.

Bambi rolled her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, flecks of hot pink from her bangs peeking through her blonde locks as she gave an exasperated sigh over my earnest answer.

“I really shouldn’t be saying this but the guy that looked like he was a walking talking condom was in the right all along.”

“No bullshit? How?” I pressed, now fully taken by the sudden turn of events.

“I heard it from some guy at the Bugle. That Essex place was nasty for mutants, another conversion camp or something so the government was desperado to keep it under wraps.”

“Leave it to the government to try and kill the truth,” Ava muttered under her breath as she stood to leave, pausing to take one of my hands in hers to inspect it thoughtfully. The contrast was big between us; her hands were long and slender while mine were smaller and discolored to a sooty black at the tips. “At least this means you won’t have to hide anymore.”

I knew that she meant well but the words still caused me frown. Not many people knew that I myself was a mutant. Hell, when you lived in a society where people who weren’t old, white, or male were already frowned upon like the next bubonic plague it wasn’t something you wanted getting out. Throw a genetic mutation that gave you unusual powers into the mix and you were the plague. I was lucky to have people around me that knew and accepted me like I was normal, but the reminder still stung. 

Bambi seemed to sense this and absent-mindedly pressed the play button on the video once more as if to distract my thoughts and boy did it work. I felt my face grow warm once more as the clip played. There, once frozen on the screen had been the perfect back shot of a man sprawled over the trainee after his killer shot, a man that now stood a good few feet over everyone else as the police did the cleanup of the area.

A man covered head to toe in metal.

He went by Colossus, but his real name was Piotr Rasputin. At least this is what Google told me when I went super-sleuthing around after I saw him in action for the first time. When he wasn't saving the day with his ragtag team of heroes he taught at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Learning, a sanctuary for mutants who wanted to feel safe while honing their skills to help mold a better tomorrow. 

I had met Xavier himself years ago on my own tour of the school with my parents. He was very nice and very bald. The school itself had been created in his families estate and transformed into the bustling safe haven that it now was, when it wasn't getting blown up by the villain of the week at least. Despite this terrifying fact I was always envious of those who could attend because I had always wanted to enroll myself. The only downside was that my parents didn't want a burnt corpse for a daughter in the aftermath. How selfish.

I threw my hands up to my face and groaned. “That could have been me on his team! I could have been hot for teacher!”

“And? What’s stopping you? If you like him so much why don't you just go to the school?" Ava called from our bathroom and I groaned again.

“It doesn’t work like that. You can't just go back to that school.”

“And why not? You’re a mutant right? You wanna meet other mutants, right? Maybe get some chrome dome in the process if you get my drift,” Bambi winked. 

I glared at her in response.

It was true, I was a mutant, and maybe I did want that chrome dome. But I had tried the whole superhero vigilante thing before. 

It didn’t go well. 

An ancient proverb once said ‘You can't swim, you can't dance and you don't know karate. Face it, you're never gonna make it.’ and you know what? I stood by that. It’s why I took my very particular set of skills and decided to waste away in one of Brooklynn's most prestigious art colleges -they're words, not mine- instead. It wasn’t ideal, with a dorm that I was convinced was made for ants instead of four people with questionable living styles, but I had friends and I finally felt normal. I didn’t need to mess it up by visiting that school again.

As if reading my thoughts Bambi frowned and took one of my hands in hers, inspecting my inky black fingertips with thoughtful blue eyes.

“I know you’re deadset on having a normal life here but you have a gift, Neeners. And you deserve to be able to show the world what you can do with it.”

“Yeah, I’m really going to turn the world around with my ability to control ink,” I scoffed before taking my hand back gently and sighing. As much as I wanted to bury that side of me I did want to meet others like me, be a part of something bigger and save the day once in a while. 

This? This life was boring. But it was safe. And I needed safe.

I looked up to her and smiled softly. “I...will consider going back there, if only to pay Mr. Xavier a visit and...maybe see how the school’s doing.”

“Code for visiting Mr. heavy metal man, got it.” Bambi winked while imitating a heavy Russian accent as she moonwalked poorly out of the room. 

“You’re a terrible influence, Bam,” I called through stifled laughter before standing and stretching. As much as I hated her pep talks sometimes she was the reason I kept using my powers, keeping them as fresh as I could in case the chance ever arose to use them. Even now the schematics that Ava had so casually mentioned as a joke were tucked away under my desk to play with on a rainy day.

I must have stared at them too long because I felt Bams hand gently touch my shoulder and I jumped in surprise.

“Did you hear Ava? Your alarm is going off,” she asked softly before nodding towards my phone. She was right, the soft tune alerted the room once more before I had the chance to turn it off and blinked in surprise. 

“Sorry, my mind was somewhere else...”

“Between Professor Colossus’ thick thighs we knooow. Don’t let that mans glutes cost you your job,” Ava teased before motioning for Bambi to follow her out the door. She held back and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, don’t let our conversation from earlier freak you out. Baby steps, okay? No rush,”

“Right. Baby steps…” I whispered, my gaze falling back to my hands that I had begun wringing absentmindedly with growing anxiety. I looked back up to her and smiled. “Thanks, Bam. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” she grinned before disappearing behind the door. She was right. Friends were there to steer you onto the better path when you doubted yourself. This is what I tried to convince myself as I headed to the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead.

Now that I look back on it I was grateful for that peaceful moment of clarity between friends because after what happened later on, God was I going to need it.

[completeandrandomshit]

Linda Ronstadt Has Found Another Voice

The singer on living with Parkinson’s, the perils of stardom, and mourning what the border has become.

It’s been ten years since Linda Ronstadt, once the most highly paid woman in rock and roll, sang her last concert. In 2013, the world found out why: Parkinson’s disease had rendered her unable to sing, ending a musical career that had left an indelible mark on the classic-rock era and earned her ten Grammy Awards. Ronstadt’s earth-shaking voice and spunky stage presence jolted her to fame in the late sixties, and her renditions of “Different Drum” (with her early group, the Stone Poneys), “You’re No Good” (from her breakthrough album, “Heart Like a Wheel”), “Blue Bayou,” and “Desperado” helped define the California folk-rock sound. Along the way, two of her backup musicians left to form the Eagles.

But Ronstadt, now seventy-three, didn’t rest on her greatest hits, experimenting instead with a dizzying range of genres. In the eighties, she starred in Gilbert and Sullivan’s “The Pirates of Penzance” on Broadway, recorded a standards album with the veteran arranger Nelson Riddle, and released “Canciones de Mi Padre,” a collection of traditional Mexican songs, which became the best-selling non-English-language album in American history. The record also returned Ronstadt to her roots. Her grandfather was a Mexican bandleader, and her father had serenaded her mother with Mexican folk songs in a beautiful baritone. She grew up in Tucson, Arizona, close to the border—a place that has since become a political flashpoint.

A new documentary, “Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice,” directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman and opening September 6th, looks back on Ronstadt’s adventurous career. She spoke with The New Yorker twice by phone from her home in San Francisco. Our conversations have been edited and condensed.

What is your day-to-day life like these days?

Well, I lie down a lot, because I’m disabled. I do a lot of reading, but I’m starting to have trouble with my eyes, so that’s kind of a problem. It’s called getting old.

What are you reading right now?

I’m reading Thomas Mann, “The Magic Mountain.” I somehow got to be this age without having read Thomas Mann, and I’m trying to make up for it. I read “Buddenbrooks,” and I fell in love with his writing. His books are nice and long, so it takes a couple of days to get through them.

Who do you spend most of your time with?

My son lives here. My daughter comes over. I have really nice friends; they come over and hang out with me. It’s hard for me to get out. It’s hard for me to sit in a restaurant or sit up in a chair. It’s hard for me to stand around, so if there’s a situation where I’m liable to be caught in a doorway talking to somebody for five minutes, I tend to avoid that.

What kind of music do you listen to?

I love opera. It’s so terrible—I listen to it on YouTube. I’m an audiophile, but I’ve just gotten used to the convenience of being able to hear twenty-nine different performances of one role. I listen to other music, too. I found this Korean band that I thought was sort of interesting on Tiny Desk concerts, the NPR series. They get musicians to come in and play live in a really tiny little space behind a desk. It’s no show biz, just music. They have great stuff. They had Randy Newman. Natalia Lafourcade, who’s a Mexican artist that I love particularly. Whatever’s new. The Korean band I saw was called SsingSsing.

Is it like K-pop?

No, it’s based on Korean traditional singing. It was kind of like David Bowie bass and drums, and then this really wild South Korean traditional singing. It’s polytonal. It’s a different skill than we use, with more notes in it. And a lot of gender-crossing. It looked like I was seeing the future.

When you sing in your mind, what do you hear?

I can hear the song. I can hear what I would be doing with it. I can hear the accompaniment. Sometimes I don’t remember the words, so I have to look them up. It’s not usually my songs I’m singing. I don’t listen to my own stuff very much.

           I listen to Mexican radio—the local Banda station out of San Jose. I mostly listen to NPR. I don’t listen to mainstream radio anymore. I don’t know the acts and I don’t know the music. It doesn’t interest me, particularly. There are some good modern people. I like Sia. She’s a very original singer.

How do you cope with the frustration of not being able to do everything you want to do?

I’ve just accepted it. There’s absolutely nothing I can do. I have a form of Parkinsonism that doesn’t respond to standard Parkinson’s meds, so there’s no treatment for what I have. It’s called P.S.P.—Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. I just have to stay home a lot. The main attraction in San Francisco is the opera and the symphony, and I make an effort and go out, but I can only do it a few times a year. It makes me sick that I’m ever not in my seat when Michael Tilson Thomas raises his baton, because he’s such a good conductor, and I miss hearing orchestral music. My friends come over and play music, and that’s where I like it best, anyway: in the living room.

As you tell it, the first symptoms you noticed before you knew you had Parkinson’s were in your singing voice.

Yeah. I’d start to do something and it would start to take the note and then it would stop. What you can’t do with Parkinsonism is repetitive motions, and singing is a repetitive motion.

You broke onto the scene with such a powerhouse voice. What did it feel like, singing with that voice?

Well, I was trying to figure out how to sing! And trying to be heard over the electric instruments. I had no idea that I sang as loud as I did. I always thought I wasn’t singing loud enough, because in the early days there were no monitors. You couldn’t hear yourself.

In the documentary, you talk about growing up in Tucson, Arizona, and how culturally rich that was. How do the current politics around the border resonate with you?

They’re devastating. I feel filled with impotent rage. I grew up in the Sonoran Desert, and the Sonoran Desert is on both sides of the border. There’s a fence that runs through it now, but it’s still the same culture. The same food, the same clothes, the same traditional life of ranching and farming. I go down there a lot, and it’s so hard to get back across the border. It’s ridiculous. It used to be that you could go across the border and have lunch and visit friends and shop in the little shops there. There was a beautiful department store in the fifties and sixties. My parents had friends on both sides of the border. They were friends with the ranchers, and we went to all their parties and their baptisms and their weddings and their balls.

And now that’s gone. The stores are wiped out because they don’t get any trade from the United States anymore. There’s concertina wire on the Mexican side that the Americans put up. Animals are getting trapped in there. Children are getting cut on it. It’s completely unnecessary. In the meantime, you see people serenely skateboarding and girls with their rollerskates, kids playing in the park. And you think, We’re afraid of this? They’re just regular kids!

I spent time out in the desert when I was still healthy, working with a group of Samaritans who go to find people that are lost. You run into the Minute Men or the Border Patrol every five seconds. The border is fully militarized. You meet some guy stumbling through the desert trying to cross, and he’s dehydrated, his feet are full of thorns, cactus, then you see this Minute Man sitting with his cooler, with all of his water and food and beer, and his automatic weapon sitting on his lap, wearing full camouflage. It’s so cruel. People are coming to work. They’re coming to have a better life. You have to be pretty desperate to want to cross that desert.

You were talking about this back in 2013, when your memoir came out, before it became such a national wedge issue. Were people not paying enough attention before?

Well, they didn’t live close to the border. They’d just go back to chewing their cud about it. It wasn’t their problem. I lived at the border then. I lived in Tucson for ten years. I saw what was going on. Putting children in jail—that’s not new. That was going on in the Bush Administration. Barack Obama tried to get immigration reform and Congress wouldn’t allow it. So people have been caught in this web of suffering, dying in the desert. They’re incredibly brave and resourceful, the people who make it. A C.E.O. of a big company once told me—when I said, “What do you look for in hiring practices?”—she said, “I look for someone who’s dealt with a lot of adversity, because they usually make a good business person.” And I thought, You should hire every immigrant who comes across the border.

Why did you decide to move to San Francisco from Tucson?

My children were coming home repeating homophobic remarks they heard at school. And they’d also heard other things, like, “If you don’t go to church, you’re going to go to Hell.” I thought, You know, I don’t need that. So I moved back to San Francisco. I wanted them to have a sense of what a community was like where you could walk to school, walk to the market. More of an urban-village experience. In Tucson, I was driving in the car for forty-five minutes to get them to school and then forty-five minutes to get them back, in a hot car. I didn’t want that life for them.

I can tell that you have a real sense of mourning over what the border used to be.

People don’t realize that there’s Mexican, there’s American, and then there’s Mexican-American. They’re three different cultures, and they all influence eachother. And they all influence our culture profoundly. The cowboy suit that Roy Rogers would wear, with the yoke shirt and the pearl buttons and the bell-bottom frontier pants and the cowboy hat—those are all Mexican. We imported it. We eat burritos and tacos, and our music is influenced a lot by Mexican music. It goes back and forth across the border all the time.

How did growing up in that hybrid Mexican-American culture shape you as a musician?

I listened to a lot of Mexican music on the radio, and my dad had a really great collection of traditional Mexican music. It made it hard for me when I went to sing American pop music, because rock and roll is based on black church rhythms, and I wasn’t exposed to that as a kid. I could only sing what I’d heard. What I’d heard was Mexican music, Billie Holiday, and my brother singing boy soprano.

So what drew you to folk rock in the sixties?

I loved popular folk music like Peter, Paul and Mary. I loved the real traditional stuff, like the Carter family. I loved Bob Dylan. And I tried to copy what I could. When I heard the Byrds doing folk rock, I thought that was what I wanted to do.

How did your recording of “Different Drum” with the Stone Poneys in 1967 come about?

It was a song I found on a Greenbriar Boys record, and I thought it was a strong piece of material. I just liked the song. We worked it up as a kind of shuffle—it wasn’t very good with the guys playing guitar and mandolin. But the record company recognized that the song was strong, too, so they had me come back and record it with their musicians and their arrangement. And I was pretty shocked. I didn’t know how to sing it with that arrangement. But it turned out to be a hit.

Do you remember hearing it on the radio for the first time?

Yeah. We were on our way to a meeting at Capitol Records, in an old Dodge or something, and I was jammed in the back with our guitars. Then the engine froze, and the car made this horrible metal-on-metal shriek. We had to push it to the nearest gas station, half a block away. The man was looking at the car saying it’ll never run again, and we were saying, “What will we ever do in Los Angeles with no car?” And from the radio playing in the back of the garage we could hear the opening of “Different Drum.” We heard which radio station it was on, KRLA, so I knew it was a hit, if they played it on the L.A. stations.

What are your memories of the Troubadour, in West Hollywood?

That’s where you went to hang out. We would go to hear the local act that was playing, or there’d be someone like Hoyt Axton or Oscar Brown, Jr., or Odetta. Nobody was anything particular at the time. We were all aspiring musicians. The Dillards were there. The Byrds hung out there. And then it started to be people like Joni Mitchell, James Taylor. Carole King would play there. When Joni Mitchell played, she played two weeks. I think I saw every single night.

In your book, you talk about being with Janis Joplin there and trying to figure out what to wear onstage.

Oh, I never could figure out what to wear. I grew up wearing Levi’s and a T-shirt or a sweater and cowboy boots or sneakers. And that’s what I left home with, and that’s what I wound up with. In the summer we’d cut the legs off the Levi’s and they were Levi’s shorts. When I got my Cub Scout outfit, that was a real change for me.

You say that you and Janis Joplin couldn’t figure out how to fit in—you didn’t know whether to be earth mothers or whatever.

We didn’t know whether we were supposed to cook and sew and embroider. Roles were being redefined. There were a lot of earth-mama hippie girls who knew how to do that stuff.

There’s a clip in the documentary of you being interviewed in 1977, and you talk about how rock-and-roll stars become alienated and are surrounded by managers who are willing to indulge them, and that’s how people wind up with drug problems.

They got involved with drugs because they felt isolated. Stardom is isolating. There are a whole bunch of people that you’re hanging out with who are trying to become musicians. And some were chosen and some were not, and it becomes a difficult relationship with the people who weren’t chosen. Sometimes they’re resentful, sometimes you feel uncomfortable. It’s like Emmylou Harris has in a song: “Pieces of the sky were falling in your neighbor’s yard but not on you.” The adulation made people feel disconnected. I also think that some people’s brain chemistry is more vulnerable to addiction. I was lucky. Mine was not.

David Geffen says that you had an issue with diet pills.

I had no issue with that. I just took them when I needed them. I didn’t like it. If I ate, I’d have to take a diet pill. It wasn’t something I did for pleasure.

There’s been a lot of looking back this year at the summer of 1969, with these big anniversaries of the moon landing and Woodstock and the Manson murders. What do you remember about that summer?

When Woodstock happened, I was in New York. I remember getting all the reports from people like Henry Diltz and Crosby, Stills & Nash. They’d come back with stories of everybody being in the mud. It sounded like a good thing to have survived, but I’m glad I didn’t go up there. Overflowing toilets and no food is not my idea of a fun time. I was playing some club—probably the Bitter End.

When the Manson family came through, they managed to murder my next-door neighbor, Gary Hinman. I was lucky I wasn’t home that night—they may have come for me. We knew those girls, Linda Kasabian and maybe Leslie Van Houten, too. I lived in Topanga Canyon at the time, and they would hitchhike, and they would talk about this guy Charlie at the Spahn Ranch. But I didn’t know him personally. We knew it was kind of a bad scene. But, when we found out how bad of a scene it was, we were horrified.

People must have been really scared before they were captured.

Oh, everybody was freaked out. We weren’t sure at the time whether the Gary Hinman murder was connected to the other murders, but we found out soon enough.

The music of that era was so intertwined with politics. How do you feel that compares with popular music these days? Is music addressing political upheaval?

Oh, I think so. Especially hip-hop. But I wish there was a little bit more political activism. I’m waiting for the Reichstag to burn down, you know? Because I was interested in the Weimar Republic, I’ve always been aware that culture can be overwhelmed and subverted in a very short time. All of German intellectual history—Goethe and Beethoven—was subverted by the Nazis. It happened in a thirty-year span and brought German culture to its knees. And it’s happening here. There’s a real conspiracy of international fascism that wants to defeat democracy. They want all the power for themselves, and I think that suits Donald Trump right now. He’d like to be a dictator.

In going through your history, I’ve noticed you’ve been selectively outspoken. There’s an interview from 1983 where a talk-show host in Australia asks you about deciding to perform in South Africa under apartheid, and you give this speech about how if you didn’t play anywhere with racism you wouldn’t be able to play in the American South or Boston. You also take shots at Ronald Reagan and Rupert Murdoch. As a popular performer, was there a cost to speaking out?

I never talked onstage for about fifteen years. But there were certain causes that we as a musical community united against, and one of them was nuclear power. We did a lot of No Nukes concerts—James Taylor, me, Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt—and if it was a particular cause that I was in favor of. I did what I could to help, but I don’t think my focus was particularly political. If somebody asked, I was perfectly happy to give my opinion.

I also found a clip from 1995 where you confronted Robin Quivers, Howard Stern’s co-host, on the “Tonight Show” about her association with Stern. Do you remember what upset you so much?

Well, first of all, I never heard Howard Stern on the radio. I had no idea who he was. I didn’t have a television. I didn’t know who Robin Quivers was. But it had just been on the news that day, what he had said about—oh, the girl singer.

Selena? He said “Spanish people have the worst taste in music” and played her music with gunshots in the background.

Selena, yeah. And it just offended me. As a Mexican-American, it just offended me that he would say such a horrible thing about someone’s dead daughter. I didn’t realize that Howard Stern made a career out of making unfortunate remarks about other people. And I didn’t know what Robin Quivers was like. I didn’t know anything about it. I just went, “Hey, that really offended me.” It made me angry. I didn’t realize what kind of a hornets’ nest I’d stepped into.

Did you get any reaction from him after that?

Oh, yeah. He said horrible things about me.

Going back to your performing career, in the documentary, your former manager Peter Asher says that you would see people whispering at your concerts and imagine that they were saying, “She’s the worst singer I’ve ever heard.” Were you really that insecure?

I just didn’t feel like I could quite sing well enough. It was best when I forgot about everything and just thought about the music, but it took me a long time to get there. I didn’t want to see people that I knew in the audience. I didn’t like to see the audience, actually. I couldn’t understand why they’d come. It’s a different relationship than singers like Taylor Swift have. I think it’s a little bit healthier that they embrace their audience and sort of feel like everybody’s on the same team. We were encouraged in the sixties to think of us and them. The hippies started that whole tribal thing, and it was the straights against the hippies. It was unhealthy.

How did you overcome your self-doubt?

I’d just say, “Breathe and sing.” As long as I pulled my focus back to the music, I was fine.

Your relationship with Jerry Brown is covered in the documentary and in your book, but not your relationships with some other prominent people, like Jim Carrey and George Lucas. Is there a reason for that?

I was writing about the music. They didn’t have anything to do with my musical process.

What did Jerry Brown contribute to your musical process?

Well, he was there when Joe Papp [the founder of the Public Theatre and Shakespeare in the Park] called saying that they wanted me for “H.M.S. Pinafore.”. But Jerry [gave me the message] wrong—it was actually “The Pirates of Penzance,” which I didn’t know.

Do you keep in touch with him?

Yeah. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. He came over last Christmas.

What do you talk about?

Water in California. He said when he retires he wants to study trees and California Indians. I gave him my tree book, “The Hidden Life of Trees.” There’s a new history of water use in California that’s fantastic. It’s called “The Dreamt Land.” It’s like John McPhee-level writing. It’s really worth it for the writing alone.

The press always made such a big deal about the fact that you never got married.

I didn’t need to get married. I’m not sure that anybody needs to get married. If they do, I’m on their side. But I never needed to get married. I had my own life.

I have to admit, I was born in the eighties and I discovered you through “The Muppet Show.” What can you tell me about working with Kermit?

I had a crush on Kermit, so it was a problem because of Miss Piggy. He was her property. But we had a really good time on that show. There’s something extraordinarily creative about puppeteers. They’re fascinating, because when they do all their acting, they can’t let it go through their own body. I think they’re just loaded with talent. I loved watching them. It was a very coöperative experience. They let me help them with the story and the songs.

What was your contribution to the story?

This crush that I had on Kermit, they developed into a little storyline where Miss Piggy and I have a confrontation.

She seems like a very formidable rival.

She was. She was nasty! She locked Kermit in a trunk.

Because you’re a singer but not a songwriter, so much of your artistic expression comes through your choice of material. How did you choose songs for “Heart Like a Wheel,” including the title song by Anna and Kate McGarrigle?

I was just ambushed by that song. I was riding with Jerry Jeff Walker in a cab, and he said, “I was at the Philadelphia Folk Festival and I heard these two girls singing—they were sisters. They sang a really good song. You should hear it.” He sang me the first verse—“Some say the heart is just like a wheel / When you bend it, you can’t mend it / But my love for you is like a sinking ship / And my heart is on that ship out in mid-ocean”—and I just thought they were the most beautiful lyrics I’d ever heard. I said, “You have to send me that song.” And I get this tape in the mail, reel to reel, with just piano and a cello and the two girls singing their beautiful harmonies. The manager I had at the time said it was too corny. Somebody said it would never be a hit. And I don’t think it was ever a radio single, but it was a huge song for me. I sang it all the way through my career.

Were you surprised by the songs from that album that became hits?

I was surprised anything of mine was successful, because it always seemed so hodge-podge. I just tried different songs that didn’t necessarily have anything to do with each other, but which expressed a real urgent feeling that I just had to express. “You’re No Good” was an afterthought. We needed to have an uptempo song to close the show with, and that was a song I knew from the radio.

What were the biggest challenges in becoming a public figure?

Not having the ability to observe other people, because people are observing you. I had to keep my head down all the time. It was kind of excruciating. I still feel that way. I don’t like to be on the spot. Also, relationships were hard, because I was always on the bus.

In an interview from 1977, you said, “I think men have generally treated me badly, and the idea of a war between the sexes is very real in our culture. In the media, women are built up with sex as a weapon and men are threatened by it as much as they are drawn to it, and they retaliate as hard as they can.” Do you remember what you were talking about?

No, I don’t! I have to say that when I look at my whole career, over all, what counted the most was whether you showed up and played the music. I saw it happen with Emmylou, and I saw it happen with Joni Mitchell. Joni Mitchell was threatening to everybody. She could play better. She could sing better. She looked better. She could just do it all. But it’s true, there was a certain amount of chauvinism.There weren’t a lot of girls in the business who were doing what I was doing, so my friendship with Emmylou Harris became so important.

Did you find that there were things that were harder for you as a woman than for your male contemporaries?

Well, I had to do makeup and hair. That’s a lot, because that’s two hours of the day that you could spend reading a book or learning a language or practicing guitar. Guys just shower and put on any old clothes. And then there were high heels. I have extra ankle bones in each foot, and high heels were agonizing. I used to wear them onstage, kick them off, hide my feet behind the monitors, and find my shoes again before I had to leave the stage.

At the height of your rock-and-roll fame, you decided to do Gilbert and Sullivan. What drew you to that?

My sister, when she was eleven and I was six, I guess, sang “H.M.S. Pinafore” in her junior high school. My mother had a book of Gilbert and Sullivan operettas on piano, and somehow I learned the songs. I heard my sister practicing them. So, when I heard of “The Pirates of Penzance,” I knew what Gilbert and Sullivan was.

Was part of you tired of being a rock star?

Part of me was very tired of it. I was singing loud in halls that didn’t sound like they were built for music. I liked the idea of a proscenium stage. I think a proscenium has a lot to do with focussing your attention. A theatre is a machine built to focus your attention and allow you to dream. You’re hypnotized, in a way, and the person onstage is your champion, is telling your story. You find emotions you didn’t realize you had.

Throughout the eighties, you experimented wildly with genre, everything from Puccini to the Great American Songbook to Mexican canciones. I’m sure your record label was surprised when you said, “I want to make an album of Mexican folk music.”

Well, before that, I wanted to do American standard songs, and they said, “No, it won’t work.” In fact, Joe Smith [the chairman of Elektra/Asylum Records] even came to my house to beg me not to do it. He said, “You’re throwing your career away.” I’d been away so long working on Broadway.

Were you worried that your fans wouldn’t go along with the standards, either?

I didn’t worry about it until after we made the record [“What’s New”] and we were opening at Radio City Music Hall. And I realized, all of a sudden, people might not show up. They really might hate it. I was ordering matzo-ball soup from the Carnegie Deli next door, and it gave me the shakes so bad that I could barely stand when I got onstage. I was holding hands with Nelson Riddle in the wings—he was nervous, too. He said, “Don’t let me down, baby.” I said, “I’ll do my best.” He was the best of those arrangers—worked with Rosemary Clooney and Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald. He wrote beautiful charts for me. I was really lucky to have him. I went back to my apartment that night and just smiled, because we had gotten away with an evening of American standard songs.

When I see something now like Lady Gaga recording a standards album with Tony Bennett, it seems like she owes you a debt.

Well, she owes me nothing. She’s got enough talent to make it on her own. But, up until then, attempts by female pop artists to go back and do standards had not been successful. And Joan Baez had tried to record in Spanish, and that didn’t work. It depends on what the audience is expecting of you. When I did Mexican songs, I brought in a whole new audience. I played the same venues, but it was grandmothers and grandchildren. People brought their kids. And the standards audience was older—they were in their fifties and sixties, which seemed impossibly old to me at the time.

Is it true that you recorded “Canciones de Mi Padre” at George Lucas’s recording studio, Skywalker Sound?

The second album, “Mas Canciones.” I chose it because they have a big scoring stage. It has good acoustics that you can tune with the wooden panels on the side. There was a lot of room ambience. Mariachi’s a folk orchestra, and it was a good orchestra sound. It’s hard to find.

You also collaborated with Emmylou Harris and Dolly Parton. Do you keep in touch with them?

Emmy comes out to Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, which is a bluegrass festival here in San Francisco, so I see her about once a year. She comes over to my house. We used to sing together. Now she brings her laundry and we talk. When you’re on the road, you always have extra laundry.

Have you kept up with Dolly?

Emmy and I presented her an award recently, and I hadn’t seen her in a while. I don’t think she realized I’m as disabled as I am. She threw her arms around me, and I kept saying, “Dolly, watch out! You’re going to knock me down!” She thought I was kidding. I nearly fell down. I grabbed onto the podium that her award was on and knocked it to the ground. It was made out of glass and it broke. “Congratulations, here’s your award—smash! You get to take the pieces home.”

If you could wave a magic wand and record one more album, what would be on it?

It would be an eclectic mix. There’s a song called “I Still Have That Other Girl,” written by Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharach, that I always wanted to record. And there’s a Mexican song called “Paloma Negra” I always wanted to record. I’d record all those songs that I didn’t get around to.

THANKS TO MIHCAEL SCHULMAN AND NEWYORKER.COM FOR THE ARTICLE.

[hope-isgood]

Hey guys. I’m having a pretty rough time... Can you help me take my mind off of things and send me some ask or questions? Hers’s a list of what you might ask if you don’t have any ideas. I’ll appreciate any kind of ask ����❤

1. What weird food combinations do you really enjoy?

2. What social stigma does society need to get over?

3. What food have you never eaten but would really like to try?

4. What’s something you really resent paying for?

5. What would a world populated by clones of you be like?

6. Do you think that aliens exist?

7. What are you currently worried about?

8. Where are some unusual places you’ve been?

9. Where do you get your news?

10. What are some red flags to watch out for in daily life?

11. What movie can you watch over and over without ever getting tired of?

12. When you are old, what do you think children will ask you to tell stories about?

13. If you could switch two movie characters, what switch would lead to the most inappropriate movies?

14. What inanimate object would be the most annoying if it played loud upbeat music while being used?

15. When did something start out badly for you but in the end, it was great?

16. How would your country change if everyone, regardless of age, could vote?

17. What animal would be cutest if scaled down to the size of a cat?

18. If your job gave you a surprise three day paid break to rest and recuperate, what would you do with those three days?

19. What’s wrong but sounds right?

20. What’s the most epic way you’ve seen someone quit or be fired?

21. If you couldn’t be convicted of any one type of crime, what criminal charge would you like to be immune to?

22. What’s something that will always be in fashion, no matter how much time passes?

23. What actors or actresses play the same character in almost every movie or show they do?

24. In the past people were buried with the items they would need in the afterlife, what would you want buried with you so you could use it in the afterlife?

25. What’s the best / worst practical joke that you’ve played on someone or that was played on you?

26. Who do you go out of your way to be nice to?

27. Where do you get most of the decorations for your home?

28. What food is delicious but a pain to eat?

29. Who was your craziest / most interesting teacher

30. What “old person” things do you do?

31. What was the last photo you took?

32. What is the most amazing slow motion video you’ve seen?

33. Which celebrity do you think is the most down to earth?

34. What would be the worst thing to hear as you are going under anesthesia before heart surgery?

35. What’s the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten?

36. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve broken?

37. What obstacles would be included in the World’s most amazing obstacle course?

38. What makes you roll your eyes every time you hear it?

39. What do you think you are much better at than you actually are?

40. Should kidneys be able to be bought and sold?

41. What’s the most creative use of emojis you’ve ever seen?

42. When was the last time you got to tell someone “I told you so.”?

43. What riddles do you know?

44. What’s your cure for hiccups?

45. What invention doesn’t get a lot of love, but has greatly improved the world?

46. What’s the most interesting building you’ve ever seen or been in?

47. What mythical creature do you wish actually existed?

48. What are your most important rules when going on a date?

49. How do you judge a person?

50. If someone narrated your life, who would you want to be the narrator?

51. What was the most unsettling film you’ve seen?

52. What unethical experiment would have the biggest positive impact on society as a whole?

53. When was the last time you were snooping, and found something you wish you hadn’t?

54. Which celebrity or band has the worst fan base?

55. What are you interested in that most people aren’t?

56. If you were given a PhD degree, but had no more knowledge of the subject of the degree besides what you have now, what degree would you want to be given to you?

57. What smartphone feature would you actually be excited for a company to implement?

58. What’s something people don’t worry about but really should?

59. What movie quotes do you use on a regular basis?

60. Do you think that children born today will have better or worse lives than their parents?

61. What’s the funniest joke you know by heart?

62. When was the last time you felt you had a new lease on life?

63. What’s the funniest actual name you’ve heard of someone having?

64. Which charity or charitable cause is most deserving of money?

65. What TV show character would it be the most fun to change places with for a week?

66. What was cool when you were young but isn’t cool now?

67. If you were moving to another country, but could only pack one carry-on sized bag, what would you pack?

68. What’s the most ironic thing you’ve seen happen?

69. If magic was real, what spell would you try to learn first?

70. If you were a ghost and could possess people, what would you make them do?

71. What goal do you think humanity is not focused enough on achieving?

72. What problem are you currently grappling with?

73. What character in a movie could have been great, but the actor they cast didn’t fit the role?

74. What game have you spent the most hours playing?

75. What’s the most comfortable bed or chair you’ve ever been in?

76. What’s the craziest conversation you’ve overheard?

77. What’s the hardest you’ve ever worked?

78. What movie, picture, or video always makes you laugh no matter how often you watch it?

79. What artist or band do you always recommend when someone asks for a music recommendation?

80. If you could have an all-expenses paid trip to see any famous world monument, which monument would you choose?

81. If animals could talk, which animal would be the most annoying?

82. What’s the most addicted to a game you’ve ever been?

83. What’s the coldest you’ve ever been?

84. Which protagonist from a book or movie would make the worst roommate?

85. Do you eat food that’s past its expiration date if it still smells and looks fine?

86. What’s the most ridiculous thing you have bought?

87. What’s the funniest comedy skit you’ve seen?

88. What’s the most depressing meal you’ve eaten?

89. What tips or tricks have you picked up from your job / jobs?

90. What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to?

91. What songs hit you with a wave of nostalgia every time you hear them?

92. What’s the worst backhanded compliment you could give someone?

93. What’s the most interesting documentary you’ve ever watched?

94. What was the last song you sung along to?

95. What’s the funniest thing you’ve done or had happen while your mind was wandering?

96. What app can you not believe someone hasn’t made yet?

97. When was the last time you face palmed?

98. If you were given five million dollars to open a small museum, what kind of museum would you create?

99. Which of your vices or bad habits would be the hardest to give up?

100. What really needs to be modernized?

101. When was the last time you slept more than nine hours?

102. How comfortable are you speaking in front of large groups of people?

103. What’s your worst example of procrastination?

104. Who has zero filter between their brain and mouth?

105. What was your most recent lie?

106. When was the last time you immediately regretted something you said?

107. What would be the best thing you could reasonably expect to find in a cave?

108. What did you think was going to be amazing but turned out to be horrible?

109. What bit of trivia do you know that is very interesting but also very useless?

110. What’s the silliest thing you’ve seen someone get upset about?

111. What animal or plant do you think should be renamed?

112. What was the best thing that happened to you today?

113. As a child, what did you think would be awesome about being an adult, but isn’t as awesome as you thought it would be?

114. When’s censorship warranted?

115. What’s the most boring super hero you can come up with?

116. What would be some of the downsides of certain superpowers?

117. What word is a lot of fun to say?

118. What current trend do you hope will go on for a long time?

119. What actors or actresses can’t play a different character because they played their most famous character too well?

120. Where’s your go to restaurant for amazing food?

121. What’s something that all your friends agree on?

122. What’s your best story from a wedding?

123. What languages do you wish you could speak?

124. What’s the most pleasant sounding accent?

125. What’s something that everyone, absolutely everyone, in the entire world can agree on?

126. What country is the strangest?

127. What’s the funniest word in the English language?

128. What’s some insider knowledge that only people in your line of work have?

129. Who do you wish you could get back into contact with?

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130. How do you make yourself sleep when you can’t seem to get to sleep?

131. If people receive a purple heart for bravery, what would other color hearts represent?

132. What are some of the best vacations you’ve had?

133. If there was a book of commandments for the modern world, what would some of the rules be?

134. What’s the craziest video you’ve ever seen?

135. What’s your “Back in my day, we…”?

136. If you could know the truth behind every conspiracy, but you would instantly die if you hinted that you knew the truth, would you want to know?

137. What animal would be the most terrifying if it could speak?

138. What’s the worst hairstyle you’ve ever had?

139. What habit do you have now that you wish you started much earlier?

140. If you were given one thousand acres of land that you didn’t need to pay taxes on but couldn’t sell, what would you do with it?

141. What about the opposite sex confuses you the most?

142. When was the last time you yelled at someone?

143. What’s the opposite of a koala?

144. What kinds of things do you like to cook or are good at cooking?

145. What life skills are rarely taught but extremely useful?

146. What movie universe would be the worst to live out your life in?

147. If you could hack into any one computer, which computer would you choose?

148. Who do you feel like you know even though you’ve never met them?

149. What’s the most ridiculous animal on the planet?

150. What’s the worst thing you’ve eaten out of politeness?

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.12

I am so incredibly sorry for the wait !!! So many shits happened recently and I had so little time to actually sit down and write anything ! I feel like the ending of that chapter is a bit rushed, but I was just getting tired at the end and I just want to get on with it ‘cause it’s gonna be fuuuuuuunnnn !!!! ANYWAY, HERE IT IS.

!! WARNING, NSFW (18+) STUFF HAPPENING HERE !!

First Chapter --> HERE Previous Chapter --> HERE Next Chapter --> HERE

There were two rules for tonight: No boyfriends. Lots of alcohol! April still kept her promise from Vee's birthday and both girls were now walking into a nightclub, the music's deep basses felt in the air. The surroundings were thick with heat and illuminated by the dancing spotlights. Tonight was all about them, their friendship and about forgetting every problems in the world. Drinks in hand, it didn't take long for both women to freely slip into the nightlife style, their bodies following the pulsing tones. It had been some years since Vee participated in such activity. In her early adult years she had seen and experienced many situations regarding that nocturnal lifestyle. Some were memorable, others right down terrifying, but overall it always provided her a view on how humanity could turn for the worst – or sometimes the best – in the absence of sunlight. Humans were nothing but animals, either preys or predators, lurking in the shadows and acting in forbidden ways. ''You know,'' started April as they both were on their third drink, sitting at a booth. ''We've been living together for almost a year now and I feel like there's still things you're hiding from me.'' Vee laughed, mostly dued to her drunk state. ''What could I tell more? My life is so boring anyway.'' ''What do you mean, boring?!'' replied the brunette back with a smirk. ''Not everyone can say they've fucked a mutant, that's special.'' ''SHHHsHshshhSHhh, don't say it outloud,'' tried to hush Vee, giggling. Their hilarity didn't last for long, the artist already back to her drink. April could notice some uneasiness from her friend, the reporter silently studying her. ''… Why did you leave your country? What's the real reason?'' Vee's smile faded for some seconds, everything so silent all of a sudden. She didn't really know how to answer, but words left her anyway: ''To get a fresh start, get a new life. Everything back home brought me down and it always reminded me of how pathetic I am. I had so many plans, hopes and dreams, but they all got crushed by unfortunate events and bad choices. My family wanted me to be someone I'm not and it tore me up inside...'' She emptied her glass, putting it down harshly. ''I can't stand living a boring, repetitive life. I can't stand doing the same work over and over again. What I want to do is stressful and highly unpredictable, but so rewarding in the end! … I want to create and let my imagination flow freely. What good is life if I can't?...'' April smirked, somehow glad to see this side of Vee. That inner fire, that desire. She knew the artist was passionate, but also knew that something was missing for her to fully accomplish her goals... She was about to speak when a frown invaded her features instead, spotting something in the crowd. Three guys were walking around, looking rather suspcious. One of them had a large purple dragon tattoo on his arm... Purple. THE PURPLE DRAGONS! April grasped Vee's arm, her eyes following the three men who were making their way to a dark corner of the club. The artist followed her gaze, frowning in concern. ''… What?'' she asked. ''It's the Purple Dragons! They're here! They're probably involved with the Foot Clan.'' ''Woah, woah, wooaahh,'' stopped Vee, visibly confused. ''First of all, who are they?'' ''They're a gang residing in Chinatown. We have to follow them!'' added April, already getting up, holding her phone out. Vee firmly held April's arm, stopping her. ''Hey! What do you think you're doing? If, like you said, they're involved with the Foot Clan, we can't just follow them. What if they catch us spying?'' The reporter pulled the other up, bringing her to follow her steps amongst the crowd. ''We have to see what they're up to,'' she said. ''The turtles need any clues we could find. I've agreed to help them and now I can't back up.'' ''For fuck's sake, April!'' complained Vee, still being dragged. ''We're both drunk, they'll spot us!'' Vee could feel her heart beating hard against her chest, visibly afraid. Soon both women found their way to a darker corner of the nightclub, lightspots rarely shining over there and the lighting dimmed out. April quickly studied the place before turning around to Vee, her eyes as big as plates. ''Oh my fucking god, Karai is here.'' ''… Wasn't she in prison?'' asked Vee. ''Yes! She must have escaped very recently or else Casey would have told me! What is she even doing here? This is bad...'' ''How much bad?'' ''Bad enough that if she spots me, we're in deep shit.'' ''Okay then, let's get out of here,'' hissed Vee through her gritted teeth. ''We have to take a picture first.'' Oh gosh, Vee wanted to shake her friend so bad. ''Are you out of your frickin' mind? We just have to tell the boys what we've seen and it'll be okay.'' April didn't listen to her, already opening the camera on her phone. ''April, for fuck's sake-'' ''They need to see who's surrounding her, they'll know who to look for,'' cut April. A flash exploded from her phone, revealing their presence. All heads were now turned towards both women, Karai easily spotting the brunette. She pointed in their direction, saying something to the others, probably commanding to capture both women... ''Run!'' urged April, pushing and dragging Vee another time. Vee had no time to think, going through the crowd as if running through dense vegetation. Everything seemed blurry, every sounds muffled dued to the immense stress and rush of adrenaline she was now feeling. She only had to look behind her once to know that they were being followed by a group of men, probably Foot Clan ninjas. Soon enough they were outside, still running. At some point Vee lost her high heels, not even caring as she knew she'd run better without them (although running barefeet in this cold weather was no ideal situation...). ''Over there!'' they heard someone shout. April, still holding Vee's hand, rushed towards an alley in hopes of finding a manhole cover. Her wish was granted as the shape of one stood out from the small layer of snow on the ground. ''Help me out!'' she told Vee as she started to lift it. Both women joined their efforts, soon the metal piece out of the way. Sound brought their attention, spotting the ninjas coming through the alleyway. Vee did not wait to jump in, rapidly followed by April, the girls back to running. The brunette had her phone out again, rapidly dialing a number. ''Leo! 5th and 23rd. We're in the sewers, followed by the Foot.'' Vee knew the reporter was calling for help and she couldn't be even more grateful. She thought they'd be running forever until April pulled her to a dark corner, motioning her to stay quiet. They could hear the Foot ninjas approaching, suddenly on their guard, knowing something was wrong as they couldn't hear the women running anymore. Vee couldn't breathe anymore, her whole self frozen in fear, hoping their hiding spot wouldn't get noticed. After what seemed like eternity, a strangled gasp escaped one of the men, suddenly disappearing in the shadows. The others were on high alert, their weapons out. A shuriken was thrown to attract their attention, Leo the first one to jump in and disarming one guy. Soon enough the whole gang was there, pushing the enemy away. Everything was happening in a flash, Vee getting to experience the turtles really fighting for the first time. Her gaze found Donnie in all this hell, a strong shiver going through her as she could witness his true strength. She got back to reality as she spotted Mikey next to her and April, urging them to follow him to safety. Her body was moving on its own, unable to focus as the only sounds invading her ears were crashes and screams. *** ''What the hell were you thinking?'' scolded Leo as they were back to the lair. April was already bringing up the picture she took at the nightclub, shoving it in the leader's face. ''We saw Karai! She got out of prison and she's with the Purple Dragons!'' He snatched the device out of her hands, still frowning: ''Still, what you did was foolish.'' ''So what?!'' replied April, annoyed. ''You asked for my help and I provided. I called you for help next, wasn't that good enough? What was I supposed to do?'' ''Call us BEFORE getting in trouble,'' said Leo, his tone rising. ''We could have gone there and handle things on our own. Now you've compromised this mission and Karai is out there, probably running away from us.'' He caught a smell of her state. ''… Plus you both are drunk, no wonder you fucked it up.'' ''We did the best we could,'' tried to add Vee, trying not to show that she was shaking. ''We didn't expect for them to show up there....'' ''Give 'em some slack, Leo,'' said Raph. ''They're safe now, there's no need to be angry.'' ''I don't give a fuck, they ruined all our efforts!'' Raphael didn't like his brother's tone, knowing this wasn't his habitual behavior. He was staring down the blue clad terrapin, his stance on the defensive. ''Calm the fuck down,'' he warned. Leo was about to replicate that another voice stopped him. ''Leonardo, come with me,'' said master Splinter, standing near the scene, lightly frowning and his tail nervously swinging. Tension seemed to escape the leader's body, letting out a sharp sigh as he followed his father away. A long silence invaded the group, Raph's posture finally relaxing. Mikey was the first to break the ice, letting out a low whistle: ''Wow, I think that's the first time I see Raph trying to calm down Leo.'' ''That's 'cause he's a dumbass,'' simply said the red clad mutant, walking away next. *** Donatello had been silent ever since they came back, but now that he and Vee were finally alone in his room, he couldn't stop. ''Are you hurt?'' ''What are you doing, walking around without shoes? You'll catch a cold!'' ''They didn't touch you, right?'' Vee didn't have time to answer any of his questions, the turtle examining her, next bringing a blanket around her, trying to keep her warm enough. She couldn't look straight at him, somehow ashamed. ''Leo was right,'' she finally was able to say. ''What we did was stupid...'' Donnie sighed, standing before Vee. He gently cupped her face, slightly tilting her head so she could meet his gaze. ''You're safe, that's all I need to know.'' ''Are you angry?'' asked the woman next. ''Against the Foot, yes. Against you, no. … April had good intentions, but both your inebriated state didn't help. It was all a serie of unfortunate events.'' ''I didn't even want to do that,'' added Vee, tears of rage escaping her. ''I wanted to go away, but she dragged me and I blindly followed. I- … I didn't know what to do.'' Many thoughts crossed the mutant's mind, frowning at such revelation. ''But now that it's done,'' continue Vee, ''I'll stand by her side. We were in this together and she's my friend. I won't let her take shit because of this. … Leo was being a dick back there.'' ''You have to understand; we've been trying to find clues about this whole affair for two months now. It doesn't look like it, but Leo's been stressed a lot these days...'' ''He shouldn't lash it all on us though!'' She couldn't stop her crying, visibly hurt. All her stress was finally falling down, both angry and ashamed. She could hear Donnie let out a soft churr, trying to soothe her as he left a kiss on top of her head, keeping her in his arms. ''He was scared, Vee, we all were,'' he said calmly. ''… You're both family, we'll always protect you. … I'll always protect you.'' A tired attempt at a chuckle escaped Vee, nuzzling the other's torso. ''I have no trouble believing that, you looked so badass back there,'' she commented. ''You can protect me anytime.'' A small giggle-snort escaped Donnie, nuzzling Vee's hair in return. When the woman looked back to him, she still had some tears flowing down, although a sweet smile was showing on her lips. ''It's funny...,'' she started. ''April was asking me earlier why I moved out of my country, why I came here. … At first I thought there was no special reason, that my life was simply boring, but now I wouldn't exchange any of this for nothing.'' She tried to wipe the wet traces on her cheeks. ''Sometimes it's scary and unpredictable, but as long as you're by my side, I feel like nothing could ever go wrong...'' He knew this would never be the case. Danger was always around the corner for the turtles and he knew Vee could one day become an easy target. He then vowed to himself that he would always protect her. He would do anything for her... *** Vee and April had stayed for the night at the lair, in case the Foot Clan was still on the lookout for them. The artist barely slept that night dued to insomnia, calling in sick at her job the next morning. April, on the other hand, left early, accompanied by Leo – the leader probably feeling bad about his outburst and wanting to apologize. Donnie couldn't be more pleased to have Vee by his side for the day, keeping things calm around her as the woman had a slight hangover. She was dressed for a lazy day: a spare pair of black leggings she had left in his room, a large shirt and her hair brought in a messy bun. It wasn't the best look, but she knew Donnie loved it as he showered her in kisses and compliments. The day had been slow so far, Donatello working on his computer as he tried to find clues about last night's encounter and Vee mindlessly drawing beside him. She watched him work for a while, unable to focus on her drawing. She couldn't help juggling a question in her mind, always curious about one detail ever since they started dating. She rolled her chair next to Donnie's, leaning on his desk so she could catch his eyes. ''Hey there, beautiful,'' she greeted, playful. The turtle stopped, his eyes round until he laughed a little after her comment. He took this moment as a reason for a break, leaning back into his chair, stretching a bit. ''I have a question.'' He paused, looking back at Vee, intrigued. ''Sure, what is it?'' The woman smiled softly, resting a cheek against her held up palm, studying her lover. ''… I noticed something whenever we're intimate. It's nothing big, at least that's what I'm guessing, but I do wonder.... You make that sort of purring sound. It's low, almost inaudible, but I can feel it. What is it? What does it mean?'' Donnie blushed, gulping as he tried to sit straight, his hand grabbing the woman's free one, trying to focus his thoughts as he caressed her skin. ''Uhm, well, … first of all it's called churring. It's a rumbling sound we make whenever we experience strong emotions, such as happiness or … arousal.'' ''Is it a sound that could entice or encourage sexual intercourse?'' asked Vee, curious. Donnie cleared his throat, trying to be as serious as she was. ''In a sense, yes. I wouldn't call it a mating call, but I do guess it could serve the purpose of arousing a partner.'' Vee frowned, pensive. Her eyes wandered for a moment, as if trying to search for something. When she finally looked back to the mutant, still frowning slightly, she sat straight, breathing in and finally exhaling slowly, a quiet growling sound rising in her throat and thorax as she kept her mouth shut. Donatello was surprised, moving towards the human, some amazement showing on his face as he cupped Vee's face. ''How did you do that?'' he asked, grinning. The woman giggled: ''I simply relaxed my vocal chords and opened up, thinking wide! When the air goes through them, the vibration is more intense and I try to go towards low sounds. … I guess singing helps about getting a better control.'' The turtle studied her features, his smile never fading. ''… Do it again,'' he said quietly. Vee laughed, then focusing, her low purr back again. She could feel Donnie's hands slowly study her jaw and neck, feeling her work. His touch lingered, his fingers like feathers on her skin... Soon his churr rose, accompanying the human's. They instinctively moved closer, the turtle still cupping the other's face. He slowly nuzzled her features, letting his vibrations run through her, their lips barely brushing against one another... A soft giggle escaped Vee. ''Doing it for too long tickles and now you're not helping,'' she said, amused. She could feel Donnie's smile against her skin, the turtle gently getting a hold of the woman's wrists and bringing her towards him, sitting her in his lap. His churr never stopped, now his movements slower, still nuzzling her features and leaving small kisses here and there. Vee closed her eyes, somehow surprised by this sudden tenderness, feeling an urge to be closer... She dared do her sound once more, the mutant replying with kisses on her neck, one hand lost in her hair and the other at her back. Sensing the vibrations in his thorax, the woman could only feel attraction, starting to experience a need, now that she knew what it meant. Donnie's chair was now facing his lab area, hiding the couple from the open space of the lair. He finally took the chance to bring his lips to hers, his desire growing with each seconds. He couldn't help feeling extreme arousal at that moment, knowing Vee's ability to produce such sound woke something primal in him. The woman shifted her position, now straddling and facing him, her hands never leaving his skin as they kept kissing. Donnie's hands found their place at her hips, gently moving her in a wave pattern, rubbing against his now present bulge. ''This is turning out to be an interesting experiment,'' commented Vee, taking back her breath. She exhaled with a new purr, the other humming in approval as he kept her close, his hands squeezing in need. ''This is driving me crazy right now,'' added Donatello, his voice mixed with his constant growl. He was about to lift Vee's shirt that the woman stopped him, looking over his chair for a moment. ''Not here,'' she lightly scolded, not hiding her small laugh. ''Your brothers are still around, somewhere.'' The turtle didn't answer, placing his arms under the human's ass, keeping her against him as he got up, grinning. Vee gasped, surprised, putting her arms around his neck, a soft giggle rising as the other made his way towards his bedroom. He didn't even look back once, his eyes planted on Vee, closing the door harshly with his foot, hurrying to a desk in his room, tossing what was on it and landing the woman on the surface. This time he did not wait to remove her shirt, his need telling him to rip off her bra, but his mind stopping him, preferring to be careful and unclapse it in one gesture. He didn't miss Vee's renewed gasps, her body leaning towards him, her thighs slightly squeezing his waist. The garment out of the way, Donnie's hands traveled to her sides, his thumbs massaging her breasts and nipples, getting a moan out of her in answer. He had never felt this dizzy, filled with the most pleasant sensations. Nuzzling her, taking her scent, he wanted to hear her forever, claim her as his own... One of his hands easily went to her core, under her leggings and underwear, stroking her out of pure lust. His mouth got to her neck, his kisses stronger, biting lightly by occasion. ''Oh, Don,'' breathed out Vee, lost in pleasure. She scratched his skin, mostly towards his hips. She was about to slid her hand under his pants that the mutant's stance shifted, lowering himself as he completely undressed the woman. He moved her legs apart, bringing her closer to the desk's edge, then approaching and licking her folds. A strangled gasp escaped Vee, her hands getting a hold of the mutant's head, unknowingly keeping him close as she bit her lip. Her fingers then traveled along his mask, grabbing the tails and wrapping them around her palms, keeping a certain control. The turtle's constant churr could be felt, augmenting each sensations, keeping the woman on a certain high. She began to roll her hips with his rhythm, her breathing echoing, translating her desire. She got her first orgasm as he kept doing circles around her clit, her second coming a little while after, as he tongue-fucked her. She felt numb, on a cloud, her voice a plaintive mess as she begged him to come back to her. Donnie did move, but he lightly pushed the woman so she would lay on the desk, his form then hunching over her, trailing kisses around her features before he got to her lips, their tongues brushing in a sensual pattern. The human could feel him thrust his bulge against her sex; eager, needy. The sensation was pleasant, but she could only whimper, pleading to feel him nearer, entirely... His rumbling got stronger, moving away for a slight moment only so he could unzip his pants and lower them a little with his boxers, freeing himself. He got a hold of his sex, rubbing its head against the woman's entrance, sighing at the sensation. His gaze was now dark, filled with lust, locking on the woman's face as he watched her hiss and moan, her body invaded by many feelings. ''Fuck me, Donnie, please,'' she sighed, lovesick. The turtle felt himself melt at the other's tone, a strong shiver going through him as he joined their bodies, a long moan leaving them both. His instincts told him to go fast, lose all restraint, but on the other hand he wanted to enjoy this, going slowly, hitting all the right spots. He rested the woman's legs against his torso and shoulders, his hands caressing them, squeezing her thighs from times to times. ''You feel so good, baby...'' he mumbled, rolling his hips against Vee's skin. The woman only answered in plaintive, mewling sounds, her hands lost in her hair, her torso stretching with pleasure. She let him enjoy himself for a while, but her inner fire was demanding for more... ''I wanna be on top of you,'' she said, lost in her feelings. ''Hmm, I wanna move faster, love.'' She could feel Donnie's chest rumble stronger, getting to a stop, leaving some kisses to her right ankle, trailing along her snowflakes tattoo, before he moved away from her and helped her down the desk. No words were needed as they moved to the bed, the mutant sitting down and his shell going against the wall, giving him support. Vee easily got over him, not wasting any time to grab his penis and guide him back into her, humming in pleasure. She landed her hands on the turtle's torso, moving her hips up and down in a sensual pattern, biting her lip as she felt the other's hands trail along her arms and body. Their breathings were soon following the same rhythm, the human's thrusts starting to gain speed, her lust rising once more. She sat straight after a while, grabbing her lover's hands, guiding one to her breasts, bringing the other to her face, kissing his palm. ''You fill me so good,'' she moaned, shifting his hand to her throat. She wanted him to feel her renewed purr, excite him more. That action simply brought the mutant to rise his knees, his hips slightly changing their angle, the woman obliged to move towards him, her torso against his. Donnie's arms went around her, emprisoning her. His pace caught on hers, but this time he went stronger, bringing out more cries from Vee. He nuzzled her hair, telling her how good she felt, how he loved to fuck her, that he wanted to keep her forever for himself... Nothing else existed at this very moment, both lovers' minds blank, lost in this pleasure. Donnie did notice a change in the woman's breathing pattern, indicating her nearing end. He focused on her voice, the feeling of her skin against his, the smell of her arousal. When he felt her clench around him, her body rubbing against him, he lost it all, his churr stronger than ever, a long moan leaving him by the same occasion. He rode the waves of his orgasm with long, sensual thrusts, his hands gently clawing the woman's back. He could barely come back to reason that he felt Vee's lips against his, her kiss slow and tender. Donnie felt relaxed, his mucles rid of any tension, leaving a hand behind the other's head, lost in her hair. Their kiss turned into frenching, that simple action surpassing any words or compliments. He did smile when he heard the woman hum in pleasure, next leaving his forehead against hers, his hands petting her all around. ''That was intense,'' she murmured, nuzzling his cheek. ''… I need to remind myself to do that sound whenever I want it this way, holy fuck.'' Donnie chuckled, then sighing tenderly as he hugged Vee closer. ''It was kind of strange to hear that sound coming from you,'' he started. ''I'm used to only hearing myself so I never mind that action.... But when you did it, it's like it switched something inside.'' ''Stay tuned for next week's episode of 'How to bang your mutant': learn how to churr your way into hot sex,'' commented Vee with amusement. This time the turtle exploded with laughter, the woman following his hilarity. Still laying on top of him, Vee sighed, her finger tracing random patterns on his torso, pensive as she showed a smirk. ''You know... you're really good for someone who's never had any relationship before. Are you a sex god by any chance?'' she asked half-jokingly. Donnie chuckled with a small snort, a slight blush appearing. He mumbled something, the words escaping the woman. ''… What?'' she questionned, squinting a little. ''I watched a lot of porn, okay?!'' confessed the mutant. ''I mean, that's all I could do, right?'' Vee snickered, first answering with a quick peck on her lover's cheek. ''There's nothing wrong with that! All I can say is that you learned well,'' she smiled. ''… What kind do you like to watch?'' ''Oh my god, we are NOT talking about that,'' laughed Donnie, suddenly embarassed. ''Why not?'' added Vee, still smiling sweetly. ''It's not a bad thing and there's most certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Personally, porn makes me laugh because sometimes I think it's over-acted and exaggerated, but that's just my personal taste. If you enjoy it, you do you.'' ''Oh stop being so open-minded!'' teased Donnie in a playful way. ''… You're just so perfect right now. I don't need any of those videos these days, you're all I need and wished for.'' He trailed some kisses on top of her head, seizing this moment to take in her scent, forever intoxicating... ''And for your information, I do like it soft,'' he murmured next with a light chuckle. Vee hummed, her hands slowly trailing around on his skin. The turtle did the same, a sigh escaping him as he gently caressed the woman's back. This moment of peace was more than welcomed, Donnie's thoughts finally setting down from this high he just experienced. The more his thoughts shifted, the more his touch slowed down, lightly frowning. Vee noticed that change, lifting her eyes to him. ''… What's wrong?'' she asked in a small voice. He seemed to realize how he must have looked, slightly shaking his head and the attempt of a smile coming on his lips. ''I just keep thinking,'' he started. ''… Being who I am, I'll never be able to offer you things humans normally do: going on dates, walking around in public while holding your hand, stuff like that... It keeps me wondering what can you possibly see in me.'' A light chuckle escaped Vee, making the other frown a little. ''I don't need all of that stuff,'' she said, one of her hands getting to his cheek, her thumb slowly brushing his skin. Her gaze could only translate her love. ''I don't need fancy dates, walks amongst busy crowds or anything like that. A date with you is spending precious time in your company, doing things we both love. … I'm not asking you to be a human, I'm asking you to be you.'' ''Won't you get tired, though? Won't you long to partake in such activities once more?'' ''Those things annoy me, to say the truth...'' Her eyes caught his, trying to understand his feelings. ''… Don't be scared about those things, Donnie,'' she reassured. ''I want to be with you. I love you... I love you so much,'' she ended calmly, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. She felt the turtle's arms tighten around her a little, a long sigh escaping him. ''… How could I ever be this lucky?'' he next said in hushed tones. ''Luck has nothing to do with it,'' added Vee. ''We were just meant to be.'' ''Still, there was a fifty percent chance that I'd finally kick my own butt and decide to meet you.... If I had decided not to go, I would have missed all of this, all of you.'' ''Don't think in numbers, think with your heart... One day or another, our paths would have crossed. I just know it.'' A small smirk showed on the turtle's lips: ''You know what needs to cross my path right now? … Poptarts.'' ''Oh dear.'' ''I have such a craving, it's unbelievable.'' ''You better share or else I'll hide the box!'' *** The dojo always was either a place of peace or a turbulence of strength, a brutal ocean. This time only the sounds of calm breaths filled the room, like constant waves caressing the shores. It wasn't rare nowadays for Vee and Leo to meditate together, both knowing this activity brought them peace of mind. Although that session didn't feel as comfortable as the others, especially knowing how things unfolded last night... Vee could sense some uneasiness coming out of the leader, even if he tried so hard to keep his composure. The artist could only breathe peacefully, trying to convey her feeling of calmness as the atmosphere felt like a tug-of-war inbetween the panicking terrapin and the afterglowing human. Frowning after a while, Vee decided to get up with a sigh, making her way towards the kitchen to grab the usual tea set and cups. When she returned, she placed the plateau right in front of Leo, sitting across, facing the leader. ''Speak,'' she simply said. As the mutant had kept his eyes closed, he then opened one, gazing down the woman with slight confusion. ''I'm not finished,'' he simply said, closing back his eye, trying to regain his posture. ''I'm unfortunately an empath and right now I know you're feeling shitty. Since I can't meditate in peace, it'll be the same for you. I won't leave you until you speak your mind.'' The blue clad turtle sighed deeply, looking back at Vee with an annoyed gaze. Although he knew she was right... He took the cup Vee handed him, taking a sip before he decided to talk. ''… I'm sorry, about last night.'' ''Donnie told me you were feeling stressed with this whole ordeal-'' ''Still, that doesn't excuse my attitude,'' he calmly cut. ''… Many emotions invaded me and I let them take the best out of me; that's not how I was taught to handle things.'' ''It's okay to have some slip ups from times to times,'' added Vee. Her fingers lightly tapped around her cup, pensive. ''… I understand how frustrating it can be to see something you've been working on for such a long time just go wrong, even for one little moment. I know what April and I did last night was foolish and dangerous, but it was all in good intentions.'' Leo stopped her, holding his palm up: ''I know, I know... April went through the same speech herself. … I appreciate both your efforts and your concerns, but now we need to focus on the future, about a plan, rather than get stuck in the past and its errors.'' Vee somehow looked defeated, unable to keep her gaze on the leader. ''Even if we came up with a plan, who knows if we'd be able to keep it? Personally, I know that when I'm facing danger, I either get stuck, unable to do any moves, or I snap and actually do something. … It's really hard to know how I'll react in certain situations.'' ''That's why my plan is to get you two out of any situation,'' replied Leo. ''Even April?'' questionned the artist, confused. ''I thought you guys needed her help.'' ''And we got it,'' lightly smiled the terrapin. ''Now that we know Karai is back, we can take it from here. April is no ninja, although she knows how to defend herself. … Karai is not like any low-life gang member. She has ressources and power; she won't hesitate to use any means to get to us, which might mean that she could use both of you as bait.'' ''Then what do you suggest?'' ''One of us will accompany you both at night when you get out of work and walk you home. We'll each have our turns.'' Vee couldn't help frowning, feeling some disbelief regarding Leo's idea. ''… Leo, you guys can't keep doing that forever, it's ridiculous!'' ''No it's not,'' he frowned in return. ''Have you at least told your brothers about this plan?'' ''Not yet, but I know they will agree to it, at least I know Donnie will.'' The woman sighed, leaving her cup down. ''Look … I know you have good intentions and it's appreciated, but I have the feeling this is getting out of hands. What next? We won't be able to get out our appartment without any of you guys? … Unfortunately, danger is at every corners of this city and we have to accept that reality. What about Mikasa? Will you also try to overprotect her?'' ''No need to bring her into this; she knows how to defend herself and she's not known to Karai.'' ''Then teach us, teach me how to defend myself. I'm willing to do it if it can ease your mind.'' Leonardo paused, seriously considering this idea. He finally smiled: ''I'm no sensei, I'm not ready to teach-'' ''Then I will,'' added another voice from the dojo's entrance. Both their gazes wandered to the newcomer, discovering that it was none other than master Splinter. Leo instantly got up, properly greeting his father with a respectful bow. ''Sensei … how long have you been listening?'' he asked, lightly ashamed. ''Long enough to hear about your plan,'' answered the rat, walking towards the duo. Vee got up too, to be polite. She stayed silent, waiting to see how things would unfold. ''You have a good heart,'' started Splinter, leaving a hand on his son's forearm gently. ''But Vee is right; you won't be able to do this forever. Overprotecting won't prevent things from going wrong. Remember how you and your brothers disobeyed me and went above ground without my permission....'' Leo smiled once more to this thought, but was quick to regain a serious composure. ''I'm just trying to protect my family,'' he quietly said. ''And it is not a bad thing! But what you need to learn now is to trust them. … I trust that you will be able to protect them, but you must believe that they'll be able to do the same for themselves and even for you.'' The terrapin inhaled slowly, weighing his father's words. He finally let out a sharp puff, hands on his hips as he glanced between the rat and the human. ''Okay then, train her. See what you can do, but let me – let us protect them until she's able to defend herself properly, April included.'' Vee felt victorious, but she lowkey knew it would take time for her to get to an acceptable level for the leader. April would easily succeed while the artist would most certainly struggle at some points. It was only best to try at that point!

[artistic-writer]

Love Finds a Way : CS Jurassic World AU : Ch 4

Title: Love Finds a Way by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan is the Head of Operations for David Nolan’s exotic adventure park, Jurassic World.  She has a son, Henry, and is loved and respected by her colleagues. Her life was perfect until a new dinosaur the park created, Indominus Rex, decided to escape.  Oh, and her one night stand, Killian Jones - he’s there to help contain the asset. Just to complicate things even more.  Jurassic World AU.

Rating: M (for people getting eaten)

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Chapter four is here! Beta’d by the lovely @resident-of-storybrooke because @kmomof4 can’t see everything first ;)

Taglist: @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@cocohook38 @sherlockianwhovian@searchingwardrobes @wordsmith-storyweaver@winterbaby89 @kymbersmith-90 @wellhellotragic@killianmesmalls @killian-whump @nonnyj @jennjenn615  

Want to be tagged/untagged? TELL ME HERE

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Emma had slammed her foot down on her accelerator so hard she thought her high heel was going to pierce the bottom of her footwell. She had to get back to the control room, the engine of her SVU screaming as it sped down the employees only dirk track. She had to asses the damage of the escaped asset. Dinosaur. Killian was right. She had to be realistic; a dinosaur had escaped and two men had lost their lives. She would never forget the sound of crunching bone and their blood curdling screams that had echoed down the shared communication line.

The elevator ride up to the control room was painstakingly slow, and she felt her armpits begin to perspire under her chiffon blouse. She was in charge of this park, and she would be required to know what was going on. She knew people would have questions and her gut twisted when she heard the chime of the elevator, signaling it’s arrival to the control room floor. The doors slid open with a swishing sound and every pair of eyes in the silent room turned towards her, faces pale and some streamed with tears.

“Everyone remain calm,” she said slowly, her own words shaking as they left her mouth. The huge screen overhead showed the Indominus was on the move, heading south across the park and Emma heaved a huge breath to steady her nerves, moving across the carpeted floor to Ruby’s workstation.

“It’s moving really fast,” Ruby said in a quivering voice, eyes on the blink red dot on her screen, a mirror image of the one overhead.

“The tracking implant will shock it if it gets too close to a perimeter fence,” Emma said firmly, not sure if even she was believing her own words. She ground her teeth a little, hoping the invisible fences would be enough.

“Should I put out a park-wide alert?” Mary Margaret's asked softly, looking to her boss for guidance. She moved to press the intercom button on her headset, ready to send out the alert but David stopped her quickly.

“Hang up that phone,” he snapped, pointing to her accusingly. Mary Margaret shot Emma a glance but slowly took her finger from the headset. “Please,” David added, his tone calmer. “Let Asset Containment capture it quietly,” he told the three women in front of him in a hushed voice. “The very existence of this park depends on our ability to handle situations like this. This was an eventuality, okay?”

“You should put that in the brochure,” Ruby quipped, tapping her screen with a slightly elevated anger. Her fingers hit the screen harder than necessary. “‘Eventually, one of these things will eat somebody’,” she spat sarcastically.

David went quiet, looking to Emma to handle her staff. Emma placed a comforting hand on Ruby’s shoulder but the redhead did not turn and look at her. “The paddock is four miles from the nearest attraction. ACU can capture it before anyone else gets-”

“Eaten?” Ruby interrupted. The room fell silent.

“Tell ACU this is a non-lethal operation,” Emma instructed, pointing to Mary Margaret’s workstation. The tiny brunette slid her wheeled chair further under her desk, tapping away at her touchscreen workstation. “This is a capture mission, not a kill on sight. Make sure they understand.”

--

“How fast can they run?” Walsh said casually, hands on his hips as he approached Liam. He had witnessed the tracking ability of the raptors first hand and was more than impressed, eager to get more information and potentially get them out into the combat field. Liam looked up at him with suspicion and he paused, stilling his hands against the dry, bumpy ridges of Blue’s skin.

“Forty miles per hour,” Liam said quickly. “Fifty when they are really hungry.” Liam dropped his gaze back to Blue who began to snort through her metal muzzle as Walsh got closer.

Walsh whistled, impressed with the figures he was hearing. The practical applications to weaponizing raptors were looking more and more lucrative. “You ever open ‘em up? See what they can really do?” He grinned, a flash of white teeth making Liam’s skin crawl.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice low resuming the gentle rhythm of his hands against Blue’s head and lower jaw. Blue’s eyes darting towards Walsh, her slit like pupil narrowing and her lips curling back to reveal her teeth. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” Liam warned him, feeling the muscles in Blue’s neck tense in his hands. Walsh took another step closer, staring her straight in the eye, and when she shook in her confines, he jumped back alarmed.

“Fuck!” He cried out, the skin on his neck flushing hot with panic. When he realised he was in no danger he laughed, clapping his hands together and giving the raptor a sneer. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“So, you wouldn’t take one home?” Liam teased, moving away from the alpha raptor and towards Delta.

Walsh laughed again, hands on his hips as he followed the curly haired Brit across the yard. Delta began to growl, the rumble in her chest much deeper than Blue’s and Walsh eyed her flickering yellow eye nervously.

“You’re intent on aggravating all my raptors today, aren’t you?,” Liam sighed, stroking his fingertips over Delta’s neck. Walsh gave him another cocky smirk.

“Can I touch it?” He asked, ignoring the question and motioning to the raptor between them.

Liam shrugged with a twitch of a smile. “Go ahead.” Walsh reached out and Delta began to pant in her muzzle, the thick steel construct stopped her from moving. She was stressed but Liam knew Walsh would not get close enough. Just as he was about to touch the blunted bumps of her skin, Delta jumped, clawing at the other side of the huge metal wall that their heads poked through. Walsh pulled his hand back as if he had been burned, his heart thundering in his chest.

“Shush,” Liam soothed, reassuring Delta quickly. “There’s a good lass.” She trusted him and knew he would not let any harm come to her. He and Killian had raised them all since they had hatched and been with them every step of their lives, and soon Delta relaxed once more. Liam’s pager beeped against his hip, the small black box vibrating on its belt. Walsh gave him a puzzled look as he read the shorthand code, grunting in frustration before he turned and addressed the entire paddock staff. “Code 19!”

The men on the boardwalk over the raptor cage scattered, reaching for their radios to pass on the message.

“That’s the Indominus!” One of the men shouted, his face turning white.

“They’ve lost two guys already,” Liam said sadly, his head hanging.

“What’s a code 19?” Walsh asked dumbly.

“Asset out of containment.” Liam shook his head, Walsh’s shocked face surprising even him. “These people never learn.” Liam grit his teeth and pushed past Walsh, heading towards his truck.

“They’re going to learn all kinds of new things about their asset now,” Walsh chimed with glee.

--

The elevator doors chimed once more but this time no one in the control room turned to see Killian step out of the metal box, his face stony and determined. The doors had barely parted when he barged through them, his fists clenching at his side as he approached Emma. The gnarled scars on his left hand itched, the old, poorly healed raptor bite forever a reminder of what happens when you take your eyes off the ball for a second.

The burly security guard tried to stop him, insisting of seeing some ID, but Killian breezed right past him, batting the guys hand out of the way. He caught Emma’s eye as she turned to check out the commotion, her expression guilty but also thankful that he was okay.

“What the hell happened out there?” He spat, advancing on her. “There are thermal cameras all over that paddock. She did not just disappear!” The security guard stopped his advances, a huge arm across Killian’s chest and a stern look in his eyes.

Emma turned away, staring blankly at the moving red dot on the overhead monitor. She sighed, blinking slowly, before turning back to him with the best business voice she could muster. “There must have been a technical malfunction,” she offered, but Killian was not appeased.

“Bullshit, Swan! Were you not watching?” He desperately tried to reason. “She clawed at that wall as a distraction. She wanted you to think she had escaped.” Killian had begun to sweat, a mixture of the heat and adrenaline, and the security guard stepped aside when the overpowering smell of gasoline hit his nostrils.

“We are talking about an animal here,” Emma scoffed, lowering her voice in the hopes Killian would follow.

“A highly intelligent animal,” he ground out slowly, his voice even and angry. He couldn’t believe that Emma, of all people, was still trying to justify what had just happened. Why couldn’t she see what he was seeing?

“The ACU is four hundred meters to the tracking beacon,” Mary Margaret interrupted, gulping hard. All eyes turned to the screen overhead, eight heartbeat monitors and four live-action cameras relaying video feeds directly to the control room. Camera one showed the soldiers exiting their trucks, electric shock rods and a fireable net muzzle in their hands.

“You’re going after her with non-lethals?” Killian gasped in horror. He shot David a look too, but the owner simply looked away.

“We have twenty-six million dollars invested in that asset. We can’t just kill it,” David told him, pointing at the screen as if to emphasize his point.

“Three hundred meters to the beacon,” Mary Margaret announced, her panic stricken voice quaking a little.

“You need to call this mission off right now,” Killian pleaded, looking between David and Emma once more. Neither answered and he stepped forward, blocking Emma’s view of the screen above her.

“They are right on top of it,” Ruby announced, her own anticipation evident in her words.

“Swan, call it off. Right. Now!” Killian cried louder. Emma didn’t move, instead ignoring his pleas. “Please, Emma. Call this off.” Her name made her look up at him, sorrow in his eyes and out of the corner of her eye she watched his scarred hand fidgeting at his side. At her silence, he turned, his eyes flicking up to the live feed cameras in case he could see any sign of the animal.

“You are not in control here,” Emma snapped, her eyes dry where she had forgotten to blink. She was thankful he had turned at the point he did, because any more of his intense staring may have caused her to falter in her resolve.

Killian turned back to Emma, his blue eyes a faded shade of grey. “Damn it, Emma, those men are all going to die.” Killian fell silent, as did the rest of the control room, all eyes on the camera feed of the leader of the ACU when a beeping caught their attention.

The camera jolted around, shaking from side to side as he approached his target, the beeping of the tracking implant getting louder and louder. Killian held his breath and Emma’s turned shallow, the screen a direct feed of what the man could see. He suddenly lowered his weapon and what appeared to be a chunk of scaled skin came into view, a red blinking light of the chip clearly visible at the end of a long, pill shaped device.

“What is that?” David asked with a frown.

“That’s her tracking implant,” Killian said, almost impressed. “She’s clawed it out.”

“How would she know where it was?” Emma asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“She remembered where they put it in,” Killian surmised, eyes wide and on the blinking red screen ahead of him.

The camera feed wobbled again, the ACU leader standing up and surveying the area with the sound of twigs snapping filled the control room. There was nothing on the camera but birds scattered overhead, fleeing the safety of the trees as branches seemed to begin to move unnaturally. Suddenly, they all heard a gasp, the leader’s camera feed showing the Indominus Rex as she appeared from out of nowhere.

“It can camouflage!” He screamed, stumbling over his feet as he tried to run back to his troops. He was too late and Indominus snatched him up in her huge, clawed hands, squeezing his body until he went limp in her grasp.

One brave soldier got closer, the flickering blue spark of his taser igniting as he jabbed Indominus in the leg, her roar sounding out through the trees. She swiped a razor sharp claw at him, slicing him almost in two and spun on her agile feet, her tail sending another troop into a huge nearby tree. She roared again, the electrical impulse bullets having no effect as she pivoted, grabbing another soldier and throwing him over her shoulder where he hit a tree, his spine breaking in half and his body falling into a limp pile at her feet.

The control room filled with the sounds of gunfire, the electrical pulses of non-lethal shots mixed with the panic shouting of the troops on the ground. A loud, single tone beep sounded out, the commander’s heart rate flatlining on the screen in front of them. Another came next, and then another, the cries of the men in the field becoming less frequent as they systematically tried to subdue the dinosaur, failing each time. Killian turned and gave Emma a look, one that was filled with sympathy and blame, before another anguished cry grabbed his attention back to the screen.

One lucky shot managed to net the Rex’s muzzle and she began shaking her head furiously from side to side. Eager to contain their asset, the men moved in, but it was futile. Indominus clawed at the net covering her snout, rolling it off with ease, dropping to all fours and sending out an ear piercing roar of fury towards the men attacking her. One, who happened to be too close, got snapped up in her jaws, his body punctured and torn apart by her massive teeth as she chewed on his torso, showering his comrades in his blood.

Mary Margaret covered her mouth and looked away, a gasp falling from her lips and the rest of the control room had no choice but to watch in horror as the other men and women of the ACU were picked off one by one. The eight heartbeats turned to red lines, signaling the team’s demise with an eerie chill. David pressed his hands together as if praying, his expression that of absolute remorse. What had they done?

“Evacuate the island,” Killian said desperately, his voice ragged. “This place is not safe anymore.”

Emma, paralyzed by what she had just witnessed, gulped hard and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “We’d never re-open the park,” she stammered.

Killian felt his rage bubble to the surface. He had tried and failed to make Emma see sense with begging, warned her so many times that this might happen. He couldn’t believe her only response was about money, her only care in the world for the profits of the island. There were over twenty-two thousand visitors on the island right now, so didn’t she care if they all died?

“You made a genetic hybrid and raised it in captivity.” He growled, pacing in front of her. “She is seeing this all for the first time,” he bit out, pointing to the screen behind her. Emma followed his hand with her gaze, seeing the blood spattered camera on one of the men still sending a live feed. “She does not even know what she is. She will kill everything that moves.”

“You think the animal is contemplating her own existence?” David frowned, kind of seeing Killian’s point. He liked Killian and respected his knowledge of the creatures he cared for.

“I think she is trying to work out where she fits in the food chain, and I’m not sure you want her to figure that out.” Killian stared at the man in front of him, David’s expression turning into that of sheer terror. “I know ACU can use live ammunition in an emergency situation and I know you have an M134 in your armory, so put it on a helicopter and kill this thing!”

“We have families here,” Emma snapped at him. She decided enough was enough. He was not in charge, regardless of David’s opinion of him. “I’m not going to turn this place into a war zone.”

“You already have,” Killian said calmly, pity in his words.

“Mr. Jones, if you are not going to help, then there is no reason for you to be in here.” Killian ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw twitching under his stubbled skin as Emma motioned for security to remove him.

The security guard made a move towards him but Killian halted him with a hand, relenting to her demands. He stormed past her, giving her a final glare before slowing near to David and leaning closer to the man who had inadvertently authorised the creation of such a beast.

“I would have a word with the people in your lab,” Killian whispered gruffly. “Find out what went into that thing. It’s no dinosaur.” Killian made his way to the elevator, turning in the dimly lit metal box and slamming his fingertip into the desired button.

--

Merlin watched as the group of disgruntled tourists outside of his lab shuffled through the narrow corridor like a line of ants. He had heard the announcement, in every language, and knew something was going on. He also knew that the appearance of the owner of the park, David Nolan, was no coincidence. He offered the man a tight lipped smile that was not returned through the glass window to the lab, instead heading towards the door and punching in the keycode that would allow Nolan entry.

“We have a problem,” David said hastily, his voice hushed as the door closed slower than he would have liked behind him. “We have an asset out of containment.”

“Oh?” Merlin’s interest was piqued, an eyebrow rising above his browline. “Which one?”

“Paddock 11,” David growled, ignoring the bustle of lab techs behind him.

Merlin’s face lit up, his lips twitching into a sly smile. David watched the man with a narrowed gaze and could have sworn he found glee in the situation they were all facing. The Indominus was clearly not to be messed with and more people would die if David didn’t find out how to stop it.

“I suppose you want to know how I designed her?” Merlin offered casually and David gave him a deadpan stare. Merlin moved around his desk, seating himself in the plush, white leather swivel chair there and casually pouring two cups of camomile tea. He had been half way through making a pot when David arrived. “You know I am not at liberty to reveal the asset’s genetic makeup,” he said, offering the man one of the glass teacups, which David declined. “Modified animals are known to be unpredictable.”

David inhaled deeply, his fingers interlaced in front of him. “It’s killed people, Jon,” he said sadly.

Merlin looked away from him, fixing his eyes on the steam slowly swirling up from his cup of tea. “That’s unfortunate,” he said softly.

“Tell me,” David prompted, shifting his weight. “What possible purpose could we have for a dinosaur that can camouflage?”

“Cuttlefish genes were added to help her with an accelerated growth rate,” Merlin began, trying to appease his boss. “They have chromatophores that allow the skin to change colour.”

David relaxed a little, satisfied with the man’s answer, but he needed to know more. He took a seat opposite Merlin, resting his arm on the table, the elbow creases in his blue suit falling away because of the thread count of the expensive jacket. “It hid from our thermal technology,” David added, watching Merlin take a sip of his tea. “How do you explain that?”

Merlin nearly choked on his beverage in elation, gulping down the boiling liquid before it had time to burn his tongue. “Really?” He asked excitedly.

“How is that possible?” David prompted again but was met with an eerie silence. It was like the man before him was trying to fabricate some sort of story, the cogs turning in his mind. David was about to ask again, when Merlin rose to his feet and made his way around the desk, resting his hands to a lab station across from his desk.

“Tree frogs can modulate their infrared output. We used strands of their DNA to help her adapt to a tropical climate, but, I never imagined-,” His voice trailed off, a smirk that David was unable to see plastered across his face. He felt powerful, superior to all other men, having created such a formidable beast.

“Who authorised you to do this?” David sighed, rubbing his temples.

Merlin spun to face him, his smile lost and his serious expression back once more. “You did,” he said darkly, pointing a menacing finger towards David. “Bigger. Scarier.” Merlin paused, chuckling to himself. “I believe the word you used in your memo was, cooler.” David gave him a shocked expression, remembering the memo he had indeed sent out, but not thinking anyone would be foolish enough to heed his words. “You cannot have exaggerated predator features without the corresponding character traits!”

“Exaggerated?” David shrieked, letting out the longest breath. “What you are doing here, Jon,” David shook his head with disdain. “When the board finds out what you have done, they will shut this place down, seize all of your work and you will lose everything you have built!” David roared, his anger getting the better of him as he leaped to his feet. He took a calming breath, straightening his jacket and rebuttoning it at the front. “Hammond won’t be there the protect you this time, Jon, and neither will I.”

“All of this exists because of me!” Merlin spat, his voice quaking with rage. “If I don’t create these dinosaurs, somebody else will.”

“Not anymore,” David said firmly, looking around the lab.

“What does that mean?” Merlin frowned.

“You are to cease all research and activities here immediately,” David told him sternly, wording his sentence like a formal notice.

Merlin laughed. “You are acting like we are some sort of mad scientists, but we are just doing what we have always done! Nothing in Jurassic World is natural,” he chuckled. “We have always filled gaps in the genome with the DNA of other animals, and, if their genetic code was pure, many would look quite different.” Merlin’s voice was desperate, an octave higher than normal and David eyed him suspiciously as he took a step towards him. “But you didn’t ask for reality, David, you asked for more teeth,” he growled, directing his last ounce of anger at the man in front of him.

“I never asked for a man-eating monster!” David barked, puffing out his chest.

“Oh, monster is such a relative term,” Merlin smiled evilly, his voice suddenly much calmer than before. It made the hairs on David’s neck tingle. “To a canary, a cat is a monster.” He paused, staring directly into David’s eyes. “We are just used to being the cat.”

--

Inside the gyrosphere was surprising cool for a big glass dome that rolled around the plains on Jurassic World whilst the blazing hot Costa Rican sun beat down on it. It was probably air conditioned Henry figured, because it had everything else. It was a marvel of technology -or so the celebrity endorsed infomercial currently playing on the screen in front of them was saying. It was designed to never roll over, always keeping them upright and with a perfect three hundred and sixty degree view of the world around them.

Except, so far, Henry hadn’t seen a single dinosaur.

He sighed, staring at his reflection more than out of the window pane beside him as Graham steered the ball through the invisible sensors that guided their way. On their way to the Gyrospheres, Graham had shown him the Mosasaurus exhibit, because it was feeding time, and she was one of the coolest dinosaurs on the island. At over fifty five feet long, and weighing over twenty eight tons, when she had emerged from the water to grab the Great White that dangled over her oceanic pool, Henry had squealed in delight. But now, his excitement had waned, and he was sullen once more.

“Cheer up,” Graham said with a smile, nudging Henry with his elbow. “We’ll see something soon.”

“Where are they?” Henry grumbled, pushing his bottom lip out dramatically.

They heard a loud rumble, the vibrations through the ground traveling right through the glass of the gyrosphere. Henry gasped, eyes wide and fixed ahead as Graham slowed the sphere to almost a complete stop, in awe of the sight before him. An array of dinosaurs came into view as they crested the hill, the valley crammed full of dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes.

“Herbivores!” Henry cried, straining against his seatbelt to get a better look. He tore his eyes away for a second to scramble for his backpack, reaching inside to quickly find his camera.

“See, I told you,” Graham grinned beside him, steering clear of a Triceratops who was rising top her feet after what seemed like a long, relaxing nap. She grunted, shaking her head as she did, and then headed off to a nearby tree where she began nibbling at the leaves.

They rolled on further down the hill, making sure to avoid the footsteps of an Apatosaurus as she walked alongside them. Henry was almost pressed up against the window so hard he couldn’t even click the camera, but he somehow managed to snap shot after shot of the side of the beast. Graham laughed, wondering how many of his photos would actually come out once he got home, but not wanting to discourage his enthusiasm, he let him click away.

Graham watched as Henry gasped even harder, the sight of a fully grown Stegosaurus so close to them making the boy practically vibrate with anticipation. The creature simply looked at them, her huge, golden iris blinking slowly like she had seen a Gyrosphere every day of her life. She probably had in reality, and she was unphased when Henry’s camera was pointed directly at her, her plates wobbling from side to side as she waddled away.

A warning message came over the radio comms of their gyrosphere, telling them the ride was now closed and they were to return to the park. Henry frowned and looked at Graham with a sigh, his little cherub cheeks pinking under his disappointment.

“Hey,” Graham soothed. “We don’t have to go in just yet.” He gave Henry a small smile and the boy hung his head, not convinced by the adult's words.

“But they said it was closed,” Henry grumbled, stuffing his camera back into his pack and tugging the zipper closed.

“Not to us,” Graham said with a sly grin. “Your mom is in charge, right? I think that means we can stay out for a bit longer.”

“You think?” Henry asked excitedly, his eyes flaring back up with light and his cheeks squishing his eyes closed a little as he grinned.

“Yeah,” Graham shrugged playfully. “And we can go anywhere. Watch this.” Graham grabbed the control stick and threw it forward, both of them thrown back in their seats as the ball whizzed forward. The sound of the mechanism spooked some dinosaurs nearby, who erupted in full gallops to avoid the rotating ball as it zipped down the valley, their roars lost behind the sound of Henry’s excited whoop.

Graham was so preoccupied with trying to be cooler than Henry’s friend Killian that he almost didn’t feel his phone vibrating in his jeans pocket. When he did, he slowed the ball to a steady pace once more, fishing around for the cellular device and quickly swiping the screen to answer the call.

“Hey, Emma,” he almost sang, giving Henry a wink.

“Graham! Thank God!” Emma sighed in relief.

“Emma, I can’t hear you,” Graham frowned, struggling to make out her voice through the distorted sounds coming down his phone. “There must be some sort of interference with the gyrosphere.”

“Graham, I need you to-” Emma began but her words were cut short when the call ended with a double beep.

Emma pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen. The call had ended and when she tried to reconnect the call, there was no signal from the other line. She raced to Ruby’s workstation and leaned over her shoulder, searching the screen for the telltale blip of red lights that signaled errors.

“Are there any gyrospheres still out?” She barked impatiently.

“No,” Ruby shook her head, tapping a few buttons to rescan the park. “Oh wait!” She called, just as Emma was about to move away. “There is still one out in the field.”

“Get a team out to them immediately,” Emma snapped at Mary Margaret, clicking her fingers at the brunette. Mary Margaret knew better than to complain, Emma’s face a mixture of panic and desperation she had rarely seen.

“Security, we need a search a rescue in the valley,” Mary Margaret voiced over the intercom, awaiting the muffled sound of the rangers at the other end. A man’s voice came back almost instantly, telling her that it would have to wait because they were dealing with another crisis that was far more important than a lost gyrosphere.

Emma grabbed the headset, holding it to her head, her teeth squeaking in her ears because of how tightly she was grinding her jaw. “No! Listen to me. There are two guests missing, including my son, so you need to make this your top priority!” Emma screeched. Ruby and Mary Margaret both looked at her, shocked at her words. Both of them knew Henry, loved him in fact, and they now understood Emma’s urgency.

“Just do it, man,” Ruby whispered to herself, knowing the guy on the other end of the phone wouldn’t have a job the next day if he didn’t comply. He simply responded with a casual comment about how there were a lot of guests missing, including a lot of people’s sons, and he would get to it in due time.

“Fine!” Emma shouted, tossing the headset back into the monitor and making Mary Margaret jump. “I’ll do it myself!” Emma stood up straight, brushing her hair out of her eyes and exhaling hard. She didn’t know what to do, where to start or how to even get to Henry. The tracking light of the Indominus was edging even closer to the valley, and she would soon be right on top of her son, so Emma had to think fast.

“Think, maybe, he could help?” Ruby suggested, pointing to Killian’s figure on a security screen above them. He was diffusing a situation with some testy tourists, the image grainy but clearly Killian trying to calm down both parties with a wave of his hands.

Emma knew exactly where Killian was from the CCTV footage, so headed for the lobby to the information center immediately. Her heels clicked against the floor as she entered, trying to avoid the gaze of the tourist who eyed her suspiciously because of her attire. It was possible some of them recognised her, and were about to inundate her with questions, but Killian found her first and hooked a hand around her elbow, dragging her off to a shadowy corner of the lobby.

“Emma.” All he said was her name, his voice etched with concern, his entire body fighting the urge to kiss her. Their little spat in the control room had left him angry but on the verge of grabbing her and kissing her senseless. In a way, he was thankful for Emma’s patience with him had run out before he had a chance to. Emma untangled herself from his grasp, shaking them both back to reality, in which they were both angry with each other about a dinosaur that had escaped.

“Killian, I need your help! The gyrosphere is out in the field and Graham is not answering his cell phone, and security won’t go after them-,” Emma began frantically, her words tumbling from her mouth so fast he wasn’t sure what she was saying. She was waving her arms, hair bouncing around the sides of her face as she shook her head from side to side.

“Woah, slow down there lass,” he coaxed, holding up his hands as if halting a wild animal. He grabbed her face, clutching the soft skin of her cheeks in his hands and she stopped immediately, hazel eyes meeting blue as she felt a sudden calm wash over her. “One thing at a time. Start with the most important.”

“Henry is in the field and the Indominus Rex is heading in his direction!” Emma felt her eyes well up at her own words, the shock on Killian’s face paramount to his ability to form words. “We have to go find him,” she told him on a whimper, her tears finally falling from her eyelids and reducing her to a blubbering mess.

“Hey, hey,” Killian soothed, pulling her into his body and wrapping his arms around her securely, not even flinching when she locked her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shirt. She smelled like he remembered, obviously not changing her shower gel or deodorant, and he inhaled her scent greedily. “We’ll find him, I promise.” Killian pulled out of her embrace a little, lifting her head to look at him with a hooked finger under her chin. “Alright?”

Emma nodded, letting him wipe away her tears with a swipe of his hand, the scars on the back of it rubbing against the smooth skin of her cheek. She noticed but didn’t say anything when he used his injured hand, something that had happened after they had been together. Emma wondered if he was embarrassed, most people would have been, but his tender caress showed more of his true character that Emma yearned to get to know.

“Save those tears for when we find him, alright? I only want to see happy tears.” Killian gave her a reassuring smile, brushing his thumb over the corner of her mouth until it twitched into a nervous smile and her sobs had faded away with a nod. “Okay, let’s go.”

[chuckling-chemist]

Green 12th Perigee (5/14)

((Songs referenced are Londonderry Air and the beginning of the Nutcracker Suite))

Gonzor took a slow drag of his cigarette, pinching the writhing yellow bug to get as much nicotine as possible. It was still too early for him to really get into the festivities. Slow, traditional dances with twirls and dips interested him as little as dessert did. Of course, this whole event to him distinctly seemed like an excuse for low and highbloods alike to pretend like their seadwellers -- cream of the crop in society's eyes -- and ignore the injustices of the world. Yet it was one of the few events he’d attended displaying a true level of equality. It wasn’t perfect obviously: the VIPs were disproportionately highbloods to an almost unbelievable degree in the same way serving staff and orchestra pits mostly comprised of lowbloods, and certainly you were more likely to receive positive attention if you had the money that came naturally to higher castes, and of course Gonzor felt it wasn’t a stretch to say the guards were more likely to suspect a lowblood acting out than a highblood, but so long as you weren’t a VIP, the level of decadence was effectively equal. He wasn’t terribly surprised, as a tealblood ran it, and Gonzor’s met just as many tealbloods (both and in and outside the justice system) who actually gave a shit about true equality as there were those who drank the proverbial Kool-Aid. Far from perfect, but a start.

Needless to say, the whole thing left Gonzor unable to place how he felt about the whole thing and in desperate need of another cigarette.

The orchestra transitioned from whatever piece it was playing before to a much slower, somber one heavy on the brass. Gonzor actually recognized the piece too: in his time working for Trolling Stone it was a common one lowblood folk artists covered when a studio required album filler due to its popularity and solemn sound. The melody rested overtop the accompaniment so well he could almost hear the singer’s lament to about leaving to join the fleet. A strange song to play at what’s supposed to be a joyous time, but Gonzor wasn’t about to complain. He’d take anything before the swell of mid-tempo waltzes and ballads about to come.

A few trolls began to step out on the dance floor. Most of them were of lower castes right now. He recognized them instantly, if not by the colors they wore, but by the silhouettes of the outfits. The only ones that broke the pattern - trolls with detailed forms and frequent variations in color, even from a distance that he presumed were the highbloods - seemed to be their dates.

There was another concept that still reeled in his head. For many events on Alternia, especially ones not actively suppressed by the Empress or her drones, fraternization on such a personal level was taboo. It didn’t stop everyone, but he knew well enough the number of trolls it did stop was more important. Alternian highblood society looked down on you if you didn’t treat a lowblood matesprit or kismesis akin to a slave at such events. Not even most midbloods were exempt. And if you didn’t, at least in public? Unless you had the ability to intimidate or talk yourself out of the situation, you were right on the path to becoming Social Pariah Number One. It all set up a situation where the status quo is rigidly upheld. Where quadrants die in every sense of the word.

But here? Here he saw purplebloods in face paint ask yellowbloods to dance in the same frequency that a rusts and yellows might dance with each other, with the same distinct lack of casuality. Trolls walked in carrying another on their arm more than two castes down without shame. Again, not perfect, but it helped put necessary support structures on a slowly collapsing building, and Gonzor respected that. Even if he felt it would be easier to burn the whole damn building down.

He let out a slow, long exhale out of the partly opened window. “Thank fuck for smoking areas,” he muttered. The last thing he wanted to do was smoke outside.

A server troll in a simple black vest and skirt with an large tray holding drinks walked by. Gonzor left his position just long enough to snag a clear, plastic cup of sparkling water. If he was lucky, this event would also surprise him in serving something other than La Croix.

He grimaced the second the taste hit his tongue. No such luck. Just the distinct taste of static, essence of essence of coconut and utter disappointment, courtesy of Her Imperious Beguiler herself.

When did the bar open? He wasn’t wholly sure. More importantly, he wasn’t sure he could keep putting up with the Empress’ piss poor attempts at making healthy Faygo being served for a whole night. Gonzor rested the cigarette between his lips so he could pull out the green palmhusk and check the schedule. Sure enough, he still had hours until the bar opened, which translated to more La Croix than he could handle. At this rate, he’d just go get regular water. Or maybe there was actual soda, but he had to ask.

Alas, such harkened the time to actually do his fucking job.

He pinched off the last of his cigarette, dropping the withered empty husk into the tray on the table. He meandered his way over to the bar on the other side of the ballroom, sidestepping suited guests on their way to the cookie tables. Not a long walk, and thankfully with himself and everyone around him stone cold sober, he didn’t have to worry about the drunken clopping of heels or his own unfortunate sway when he got too bad off. He managed to make it to the row of plush, empty barstools and grab the only seat far enough away from tables he could get a clear line of sight toward the actual dance floor without having to wallflower.

“I trust you understand the bar opens at eleven?” the bartender asked. Gonzor rotated in his seat to get a good look at them: a blueblood not much shorter than himself with curly horns and a loose tuft of dark hair, cleaning glasses in either preparation or boredom.

“Surely you've got some non-alcoholic shit back there. Preferably not La Croix too.”

“Certainly.” They set down the glass being cleaned. Gonzor watched as the bartender deftly mixed together some Faygo ginger ale and grenadine. Gonzor glanced at him suspiciously.

“Faygo?” he asked doubtfully. “Isn't that alcoholic?”

The bartender gave him a toothy smile. “Not all, sir. We only serve the non alcoholic variety. Wouldn’t want our lovely patrons to ruin themselves only so early in the night.”

Gonzor chuckled, letting his dark aviator sunglasses fall down his face. “I guess that’s true. I’ve been to my fair share of events ending in blackouts.”

“Eastern Alternia animation convention?”

“...Something like that, yeah.” At the telltale sound of one song ending, he turned back around in his barstool. The next song picked up a more jovial tone, relying on strings and woodwinds over everything else. It was the first piece of the night that gave him an actual feel for the weather outside without also slapping him in the face about it. A few bluebloods not far from him stood up to move to the dancefloor. They were three wildly different heights, but all the same Gonzor could see the thematic similarities in their dress style: high-low skirts made to showcase off their decorated black and silver boots and hemmed in gold. The tallest troll had what looked like a glittering starfield going along the bottom of the skirt and a strapless, plunging neckline. The short cobalt was adorned with white fur, accenting the v-neck cut rather nicely without looking too tacky. The other, shorter indigoblood was the most covered with her draped neckline and long sleeves. “Do they always look like this?”

“Look like what?” the bartender asked quizzically.

Gonzor’s gaze swept the room. He couldn’t help but notice the huge amounts of stylistic variability in what he could catch right there in the women: elegant gothic dresses, slinky evening gowns, poofy tutus, flowing medieval skirts. But when she got up, the partner in question always made a set. It was something he’d never much seen outside of contrived plots in romantic comedies dead set on proving why the leads should get together. His fingers twitched, longing for his camera to memorize the scene for him. “Matching.”

“Just the newest thing. Fads come and go. As we settle in for a new respect for our fated quadrants, our fashion shows.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bartender shrug. He was admittedly more interested in the increasing volume of trolls leaving their chairs, with or without dates, to enter the floor as they wrapped up the last desired sweet treat. “You should have been here sweeps ago when naked dresses - or bare rumpusrobes, whatever your kind calls them - took the forefront. This sweep it’s much tamer. A more fantasy style. I like that.”

Tame was one way to describe it. Gonzor could think of numerous better words, none of them connecting to the concept of tame -- ostentatious, flouncy, overzealous or and occasionally bordering on costume-like -- but maybe in comparison to trolls hardly wearing clothing, this was tame.

“Hm.” Gonzor finished his drink in a single gulp and placed it back on the table with a solid thunk. The bartender picked it up immediately, placing it underneath the table in a quick motion reserved for those with experience mixing drinks. “Thanks for the company, but I think it’s high time I finally mingled in. Truly experience what there is to experience.”

“But of course.” He looked over just in time to catch the bartender give him a quick nod. “Good night to you.”

Gonzor grinned, eyes shining behind dark sunglasses. “Oh don’t worry. My job can only keep me away from my vices for so long.”

[the-miss-lv]

Time moved on.

Newt took care of the humans faithfully as he did the animals and creatures of the forest. Elizabeth’s children’s children had their own young and so on, over and over until Newt lost count of what generation they were. The village changed as the centuries went by. It grew and then shrank when people left for cities. But then people returned to the quiet and safe town. It never became too large, always just the right size, hundreds but not thousands. 

When the plants they ate grew sparse in the harder seasons Newt would coax them to grow strong again. When the deer and rabbits dropped in number Newt would shelter them in his forest until their numbers where great.

When sickness spread in the village he would walk door to door to ensure everyone was safe from illness. He never had to heal them like he did with Elizabeth’s son. He merely had to usher the illness away and encourage the human’s bodies to be strong enough to fight the sickness before it took root.

“Oh,” a woman paused, walking the village in the midnight hours. Her name was Jane and she had a husband and three children but also her parents too stubborn to move in with them. She stayed late to tend to her father who was beginning to return to the earth in his old age.

Newt watched her as she looked at him, staring at his bare feet with a touch of suspicion and under that, awe.

“Yes well, I can look almost perfectly human. But shoes, I never could stand them,” he admitted.

“I see.” The woman blinked again. “There is a sickness in the next village over, people are worried.”

In the town square, there were gifts piled high, sweets and hand grown flowers, bits of dried fruits and meats. Little drawings and carvings of animals, things Newt enjoyed. Over the centuries the people had learned what he favoured most.

“I know. It will pass by, no one is ill here,” he reassured her.

The young woman offered a strange smile, laughing to herself a bit.

“You’re so tired you’re dreaming,” she told herself with a shake of her head.

Newt watched as she dug into her apron and pulled out a small blob of wood, it was a rather fat looking mouse-like creature.

“My son made it, he wanted to offer it next festival. But he loses things easily so I promised to keep it for him, always in my pocket.” The woman offered it out on the palm of her hand.

“He said you would understand what it was.”

Newt stepped closer, staring at the child's rough carving. A mouse with a big thick tail, like a wolf. Newt smiled slowly, taking the carving delicately. A little boy that liked to talk to him, Jacob. He had a special tree just inside the forest line where he would sit and chatter at Newt about any and everything. He liked to make up animals by combining features. The mousewolf was his favoured creation. A wolf the size of a mouse but with round ears and a tiny wee howl.

“Yes, I know what it is. I do like the idea of it. My favourite is the catdog, a bit of both so it won’t chase either. I do like harmony like that.”

“Well then,” the woman smiled, seeming to think the moment was not real. Newt waved cheerfully at her as they parted ways.

"Good eve, Scamander," she smiled at him. It was their name for him now. His true name had long been lost in time.

He slipped the carving into his pocket. It lacked skill but it was warm to the touch, filled with a child’s earnest creativity.

When he passed the alter, more of a high bench than anything these days, which he preferred to anything to over the top, he took a few bits of bread and jam. The animals would eat the rest for him, mice, rabbits, cats, dogs, and sometimes deer. Newt smiled as he pressed a finger into the stone of the bench and drew a catdog. Not the best work he had ever done, but it was clearly the creature. It would do, he supposed with a smile.

The boy had delighted in it and his mother had wondered for all her days afterwards. The young boy had never not believed in him and he passed that along to his children.

The villagers met him from time to time, seeing him enough to know he was there. They kept their respect for the forest and so Newt honoured them by protecting their village. He chased out those with ill will and allowed only those with good intent to settle.

The seasons continued to come and go, more decades and then centuries. Newt was terrible about keeping track of it. But when most places stopped celebrating the old gods, the bowtruckles who travelled forests told him so, his village faithfully continued. Each season was marked with a great festival that filled the town square. A boundless cheer overtook the people and they would laugh all night long, dancing and singing over and over with endless energy.

Newt wasn’t fond of crowds, too many people closing in on him, but would always attend the celebrations. To remind himself of humanities best parts. He watched artists draw portraits of eager faces and carvers work away at little animals to give away freely to excited children. Poets and musicians creating new words and sounds that they shared. Children making up new dances while the adults performed the old ones and sang the songs from the very beginning. Elizabeth’s songs. They didn’t know what they sang, the origin was forgotten to time but the words survived and Newt smiled every time to hear them. The crowd alive in a midsummer celebrations, the square decorated with flowers and lanterns. Everyone laughing and dancing, music playing while food and drink was shared. Every member of the village gave something, offered freely to their neighbours what they could. From food to little drawings, even the children gave something. It was a point of pride and delight for them, to have a skill to give.

“Come sit,” an older man called him, motioning to his wood board with carvings on it in a pattern. He was a bit from the crowd, in a quiet spot.

“I’ll show you how to play, a game of the mind,” Newt nodded, settling a bit awkwardly in the chair and peering at the carvings curiously.

“They each have a meaning and a movement,” the man began and before long a group of men where gathered arguing the moves and the best tactics to win. They were loud and a bit suffocating but it was all in good fun and Newt found himself smiling until his face hurt.

“It’s a good game,” the old man grumbled at the end, the lesson long lost.

“You should leave it out then, on the altar. A move a day perhaps?” The old man stared at Newt for a beat and then smiled before a deep laugh bubbled up in his chest. He nodded his head and shook Newt’s hand. Touching always felt odd but Newt allowed it briefly, the old man was born and raised in his village, had lived his whole life here and had been a good sort. 

“Go, dance!” the man instructed and waved someone over, a young girl rushing to obey her grandpa. Ten or so, just the right age to be bold enough to take Newt’s hands and spin in him into the middle of a song.

For each festival, the humans had a tradition of being barefoot. So he could walk among them without being seen, blending in as he pleased. Newt laughed as bare feet moved in the soft dirt and people sang along with the musicians.

“It’s my favourite!” The child exclaimed when Elizabeth’s song began.

“It’s her song,” Newt told the girl.

“Who?”

“The first. The very first girl.”

“What did she do?” They spun in a circle, the steps long memorized by both of them.

“She made friends with the forest and won its favour. A young girl just like you. With a great bright heart.” Newt smiled as the girl blinked, staring up at him. There was always that moment when they realized. Newt made sure they did, that every single human in his village met him once and knew it.

A moment of seeing. To honour Elizabeth. Newt’s first human friend.

Her eyes went wide and a delighted surprise filled her features. She had always hoped he was real, but had begun to worry he might not be as she grew up. Meridith was her name, she spoke to him often when she walked in the forest. She always brought old bread to feed the birds and they rather adored her. Her heart was a good one.  

The girl’s friends ran up to her as the song ended, grabbing her hand and when she glanced at them, Newt slipped off. Meridith was certain of him now, and she would not forget the moment.

He smiled and nodded at people as he walked by. Everyone was open and friendly in case they ran into the forest god without knowing it. So Newt accepted baked pastries that were given out to all, drinks of wine, and delicate little carvings and drawings. He watched his humans delight in pure enjoyment. Their feet slapped the dirt and the connection to the earth hummed in contentment. Newt could feel the mother’s delight flowing through everyone. He could feel it in them as well, their worries and fears fading a bit. Their very beings pulsing with energy, with the mother's affection.

He walked down the quieter streets as the midnight hours came, the forest's edge coming into sight. Along the forest line was a park, filled with flowers and plants from all over the world. Settled at the edge of the forest. The altar, the one Elizabeth’s father had made was under the earth in this place. Long grown over with moss and flowers and forgotten by the village. 

Newt smiled at the spot, tipping his head as lovers giggled within the little park that became the forest. He watched unseen as young woman let a man slip a flower necklace over her head. Some things would never change he supposed. A bit further into the woods was a young pair of men, both magic born and indulging in adoring kisses. The village was mixed but there was no one who didn’t know of magic. Who didn’t have a family member with it, the village had begun with magic born after all. It made things a bit easier Newt found. Wizards and witches very accepting of skin colour and choice of mate. Newt had heard other villages were more closed-minded, of segregation and slavery. He watched the young men trade kisses a moment longer before he walked on.

He chewed his bottom lip and wondered what it felt like, to kiss and mate. Newt had never felt the urge to mate.

He wasn’t the sort to be born with a mate he supposed. It wasn’t a bad thing; many magical creatures were the same. But the last few centuries Newt found himself feeling a bit…yearning. His eyes drifted to the fields past the forest and he wondered what it would be like to have a mate. To have someone at his side. He thought of the first villagers and their countless generations, living on in their children in a sense. He supposed he envied that a bit. Life had become monotonous for Newt. His forest was strong and old, powerful enough to repel evil creatures on its own. The magical creatures that lived within had done so for many generations or centuries and they knew the rules and were very respectful. Even the humans were very well behaved. If someone acted up, vandalising the forest, they were punished severely. Serving time in the little locked room. Sometimes forced to leave the village. The human’s had a nice system down rather pat.

All in all, Newt suspected he might be growing lonely. It was a new feeling and he wondered why it had developed. He had his forest and the creatures and animals. He had his village. He was not alone.

But something new was happening, something new was calling in his chest.   His missed Elizabeth but knew better than to get too attached to a human. His heart still stung a bit when he thought of her and while he might be happy for a short time, humans were too short-lived for it to be worth carrying a second sting in his heart.

He wondered if all forests felt this way at some point.

A little bit from the Forest God AU! Working on the Animagus fic right now. As well as a little sequel for Lure.