#laura sprys

[decaeys]

WHAT FLAVOUR IS YOUR SOUL?

LACEY : vanilla.

oh heart of ice and mind of gold, what am I to do with you? you are only good in small amounts, bittersweet fledgling, you are hard for most to swallow. your spirit is strong, your wit is potent, your biting essence drives even the most daring away. but why are you hiding your sweetness? I know within you, you are soft, but humanity has made you bitter. you mask your pain and sorrow with spite and sensibility. you say you do not care about trivial things, but don't you? sweetheart relax. you can let down your drawbridge, the waters are not poisoned. I know you have looked monsters in between the eyes and scoffed at them, but please, relax. you think your armor protects you but it is smothering you slowly. little owlet, when will you learn, words can only get you so far? feelings are what makes this world pulse. do not suppress your feelings. your heart can still thaw my dear. trust.

LAURA : mint.

oh spry little dryad, spinning sprite, you drift through life as light as lion down. you are the chimes of churchbells and the laughter of faeries. gossamer and spidersilk shine from your ribs. life is fleeting, you more than anyone should know that. something we love today may never see tomorrow's sun. you pride yourself on skipping through moments, soft and merry. but you do not let your soul be tethered. is it for freedom or fear, sweetheart, that you do not let yourself be tamed? you are as fresh as and wild as bluebirds in snow, you smile at your problems before dashing away. hoping they will never catch up to you. but even nike can't run forever. you have been hurt before. but that is life. you wish to never feel that way again, but regretfully I must tell you that is nothing short of impossible. life is but part sorrow part sun, you cannot have teacups until they are burned by the kiln. oh I see the scars child, they shimmer down your chest, I see the pain in your eyes. but I also see the stardust. keep smiling, but allow tears also. you do not have to be solely wonder, fear, you are allowed to be bitter. so bite, and scream, and laugh, and love. that is what makes life worth living.

OMEN : salt.

ah little kraken, bold are you. restless sailor, dauntless fighter, lower your sword, let me see your shield. ah, of course, they are but the same object. oh wave-tossed ruffian, lend me some of your mettle would you? you have been struck by the sharpest of spears yet you still stand here proudly. but off your guard, elsewhere of the battlefield, you will find your spirit can parch others. your words are but weapons crafted from your soul. little lion, sheathe your claws, or the ones you love the most will suffer. you do not have to be strong all the time love, there's nothing wrong with being soft. vulnerability is not weakness, and if it were, what's wrong with that? strength is not always your greatest tool, your heart is good. put down excalibur, and use your words. you'll find they will carry you much farther. not everything in life is a battle.

[broadwaydivastournament]

While it may be inaccurate to say Laura Linney is the Biggest Tony Loser of all time (Legendary Chita Rivera, for example, won just two of her ten nominations, and Kelli O'Hara won just one of her seven*) it's also not...inaccurate if you go solely by success rate, hers being, well, zero. With five nominations, she is among just seven performers in Tony history to be nominated that many times without winning. Three men (all of whom are now deceased) and four women. It's likely Laura Linney will return to the stage in the near future, get herself another nomination, and (if she loses) be Officially the Biggest Tony Loser of all time. A title unlikely to be challenged on the actress side as Dana Ivy (82) and Estelle Parsons (96) are both mostly retired, and Jan Maxwell, my beloved, is dead. Meanwhile, Laura Linney is still a spry sixty and MTC has her in there every few years anyway.

On the opposite side of the Tony scale, we have six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald, a record-breaker on several fronts. She has won more competitive acting awards than anyone else, including Angela Lansbury (whose sixth Tony was a Lifetime Achievement Award). She is also tied for most nominations alongside Chita Rivera and Julie Harris (both deceased), and will almost certainly hold the record in her own right soon enough. She is also the only performer to win in every eligible category**, and just one of five to have been nominated. At the young age of fifty-three, Audra will likely continue to break her own records in due time. And if we get that unlikely Gypsy revival...well.

Pictured (L to R): Laura Linney and Audra McDonald about to throw hands at the 2017 Tony Awards.

So, while Audra McDonald absolutely wrecks Laura Linney in our little tournament, let's take a look at who they were up against for each nomination.

Her latest two nominations have probably been the closest races. 2010 was, as you can see, Viola Davis's show. Even my beloved Jan Maxwell didn't stand a chance.

Pictured (L to R): Cynthia Nixton, Laura Linney, and Audra McDonald at the 83rd Drama League Awards, 2017

Audra's losses have been to Heather Headley (Aida, understandable), Christine Ebersole (I suppose, but I'd have gone Donna's LoveMusik...), Mary-Louise Parker (I get it, but I'd have actually gone Laura Linney's one-woman show), and Jodie Comer (deserved).

Pictured (L to R): Laura Linney and Audra McDonald, pre-feud, holding a sleeping puppy twenty years ago at Broadway Barks, 2004.

*And will probably have only won one out of eight after this next awards season passes...

**some might consider Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill to be category fraud given the copious amounts of singing and music going on.

Broadway Divas Tournament: Round 2A

Laura Linney (1964) "LAURA LINNEY (Diana) Broadway credits include My Name is Lucy Barton (Tony nom. dir. Richard Eyre): The Little Foxes (Tony nom.) Time Stands Still (Tony nom.) and Sight Unseen (Tony nom.) all directed by Daniel Sullivan at MTC. Other credits include Les Liaisons Dangereauses, The Crucible (Tony nom.), Uncle Vanya, Hedda Gabler, Honour, Holiday, The Seagull, Beggars in the House of Plenty, Six Degrees of Separation. Television credits: "Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City," "Ozark" (SAG, Emmy nom), "The Big C" (Emmy, Golden Globe Awards), "John Adams" (SAG, Golden Globe, Emmy Awards), "Frasier" (Emmy Award), "Wild Iris" (Emmy Award), "The Laramie Project," "Tales of the City" trilogy. Film: Falling, The Dinner, Nocturnal Animals, Sully, Sympathy for Delicious, Morning, The Details, The Savages (Oscar nom), Kinsey (Oscar nom), You Can Count on Me (Oscar nom), The Other Man, City of Your Final Destination, The Squid and the Whale, Jindabyne, Love Actually, Mystic River, The Nanny Diaries, Breach, Man of the Year, The Hottest State, Driving Lessons, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, P.S., The Life of David Gale, The Mothman Prophecies, Maze, The House of Mirth, The Truman Show, Absolute Power, Primal Fear, Congo, Lorenzo's Oil, Dave. Training: The Julliard School, Brown University. Member: AEA, SAG." - Playbill bio from Summer, 1976, June 2023.

Audra McDonald (1970) "AUDRA MCDONALD (Suzanne Alexander) is honored to take part in Adrienne Kennedy's historic and long overdue Broadway debut. A board member of Covenant House International and co-founder of Black Theatre United, McDonald is a singer, actor, and activist who lives in New York with her amazing husband and children." - Playbill bio from Ohio State Murders, December 2022.

NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE

"Do you ever think Laura Linney reads her playbill bio and cries? Does she dream of the day when she too will hold a Tony Award aloft in triumph, or has she resigned herself to being one of four actresses with the biggest fail rate and will one day hold the record outright? (Given that Estelle Parsons is in her nineties, Dana Ivey is in her eighties, and Jan Maxwell, my beloved, is dead?) Anyway, the point of this isn't to rub salt in the wound. Love you, Laura Linney."

"It's too mean to title this poll Biggest Tony Winner vs. Biggest Tony Loser but it's pretty damn accurate, and given the overwhelming whiteness of award shows overall, it's damn satisfying that the Black woman is the one with a record-breaking Tonys on her shelf and the white blonde woman is not (no matter how talented she is). Audra McDonald, my beloved, you're going to sweep this entire tournament."

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show��s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

[letterboxd-loggd]

Spencer (2021) Pablo Larraín

December 4th 2022

[milliondollarbaby87]

Spencer (2021) Review

During Christmas 1991 at Sandringham estate Princess Diana is struggling to hold everything together as her marriage is unravelling. ⭐️⭐️ (more…)

[ken-branagh]

Focus Features has acquired the worldwide rights to Kenneth Branagh's Belfast. Written and directed by Academy Award® nominee Branagh, Belfast is the humorous, tender and intensely personal story of one boy’s childhood during the tumult of the late 1960s.

The cast stars Golden Globe nominee Caitriona Balfe, Academy Award® winner Judi Dench, Jamie Dornan, Ciaran Hinds, and introduces Jude Hill.

Dornan and Balfe play a glamorous working-class couple caught up in the mayhem, with Dench and Hinds as the wry and spry grandparents. The film is produced by Branagh, Laura Berwick, Becca Kovacik and Tamar Thomas.

"Belfast is my most personal film. It's about coming home – a dramatic journey of excitement, emotion and humour," said Branagh. "To be embraced by filmmakers and distributors of such proven imagination and talent as Focus is fantastic. We are honoured to partner with Peter Kujawski and his amazing team. With the incredible support of Northern Ireland Screen also in the mix, we are very excited for the future of Belfast in cinemas around the world in 2021."

Said Focus Features chairman Peter Kujawski, “We are excited and grateful to collaborate with such an esteemed filmmaker and storyteller as Kenneth. Highly personal and passionate, Belfast is a heartwarming piece that is bursting with life, and we look forward to sharing it with audiences worldwide."

Source: focusfeatures.com + their Instagram, December 16 2020

[cadaceus]

C3E03

So... this episode was a lot. Things escalated so much more quickly than I could have anticipated! I don’t want to say too much because of spoilers but hey remember how in my last liveblogs I mentioned that I was super attached to this whole party already? ...  😭

- Choose your fighter: Imaginary Flashback Robbie/Imaginary Flashback Travis or Nordverse Sam/Nordverse Laura (speaking of which, I am eagerly awaiting our next Nordverse segment)

- “Pretty spry for a…” Finish the joke Laura!

- “You’re gonna make me cuss” I love Imogen sm

- TRAVIS WEREWOLF MENTION

- Professor Lockhart??? Is that you???

- The whispers on Laudna’s message are so creepy but so funny, I love it so much!

- IMOGEN MY BELOVED

- “Be cool, hunny bunny” Laudna and Imogen crumbs

-Bertrand and Imogen are my new favorite comedy duo, I cannot stop cackling at them swinging their arms around 😂😂

- Who is Ashton indebted to??? I’m so curious!

- THE LIGHTING CHANGES AGAIN YES

- Awww Imogen :(( Losing focus in crowds is a big social anxiety mood, but Fresh Cut Grass and Laudna sticking with her is so sweet

-Travis mouthing “is that me? That’s not me” in response to the old man comment is sending me

- WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS PERSON SPEAKING TO DANAS HELLO

- Nobody in the room? Where did they go??

- LAURA AND TAL BOTH GETTING NAT ONES ON ROLLIES LMAOOOOO

- FCG: “Well smiley day, everybody! :) How’s it going—oh my!” Ashton, pointing aggressively at the Bad Guy: “Situation! Situation!” STOP I LOVE THEM BOTH SM

- Laudna: “He’s afraid of me” / Sam: “As are we all” I mean….. it’s true :P

- I’m so intrigued by Mr. Bell’s Gambler’s Blade! Was that something from the one shot he was in?

- Aww, FCG quietly goes “I like that name” after Imogen calls them “Freshy”

- Liam saying Counterspell in Caleb’s voice ohhhhh my heart

- WHOAAA FRESHY CAN PUT THE POINTS HE STOLE FROM AN ALLY INTO AN ENEMY??? okay that ability is really cool! Maybe it won’t be too angsty after all! (Famous last words of course)

- Matt sounds so unreasonably upset about the Bert and Fearnie joke and I cannot blame him whekdndjfn

- BARRY HITTING DORIAN RUDE

- “Take your attack of opportunity!” liam the chaos monger I love it LOL

- MATT GIVING ROBBIE ADVANTAGE TO HIT BERTRAND EHDJDKKGKEJJFKD GOODBYE

- Oh rip Danas…..

- When did Laudna and Imogen deal with the Shadow Creepers before? 👀 it sounds like it may have been a Session Zero for those two!

- DORIAN AND IMOGEN MY BELOVEDS, this scene is so funny, they are a duo that I never knew I needed!

- Can Dorian/Robbie stay forever please 🥺🥺

- LORD ETHEROSS BAKED A CARROT CAKE??? GO STAR BAKER GO

- Orym: “Im more familiar with pie” throwback to the people of Byroden making him a pie judge that one time in EXU agsjkdmdm

- The Ruddy Hilt was Lord Etheross’s old party, noting it!

- MORE WHISPERS

- Fearne paying for Bertrand’s drink is so sweet awwwe

- Ashton saying “You know what happened last time” I CERTAINLY DONT PLEASE DO TELL

- Also Milo asking “did she come around anytime recently?” Who is the “she” they’re talking about let me know your secrets plsssss

- Imogen’s dream… is this her home?

- The sense of mounting dread that suddenly overcame this entire studio……. Mr Stark……..

- The lights turning red in Imogen’s dream is such a cool effect

- HER voice?? Who’s voice does Imogen hear in her dream??? Her mother’s, maybe?

- Lieve’tel… I know that name :(

[lord-tathamet]

Dinner Plans

A short story almost two years of age, that I once wrote for a university class. Found it again, dusted it off, polished it slightly, but let it retain that little bit of amateurish writing simply to marvel at how far I’ve come with my writing ever since. 

Enjoy. 

For the fifth time in the last two hours did the man with the moustache and sunglasses look up from his research and look at the face of the clock of the broken church. He scowled beneath the moustache, but forced himself to look at it regardless.

4:18 pm.

They were late, as per usual. He shook his head and focused back on his literature. He made the mental note to have a number of alarm clocks be send to each of them for next time. Flatteringly Photoshopped pictures of the Mexican coast reflected in his sunglasses while his eyes skimmed through the brochure's whimsical descriptions of the rich culture of its indigenous people and beautiful beaches.  He skipped through a couple of pages until he found what he was looking for. A decidedly too sharply fined and too pale fingernail stabbed into the page displaying the photograph of an ancient, grey pyramid.

The man sitting behind the shining aluminium table was tall, narrow and sharply dressed: a suit jacket with bloodstone cufflinks, black suit-pants, a clean white shirt only slightly wrinkled and  two buttons open. His legs ended in a pair of shiny, pointy shoes. His face was stern and angular, with pronounced cheekbones and a pointed chin. Bushy eyebrows sat above the pair of sunglasses that protected his eyes against the sun, and a long white moustache grew beneath the hooked nose which gave his appearance a certain roguish charm. A wavy mane of grey-white hair surrounded his face and hid the pointed tips of his ears, giving him certain qualities akin to an old lion. It was difficult to clearly guess his age, but anyone briefly passing by and glancing at him would take him for a very spry looking gentleman in his mid-fifties.

Leaning in on his read, the man with the white moustache made a few notes on a small block of paper. The pen he used was black, ornamented with silver filigree and absurdly expensive, as was the ink held within. Next to the note pad stood an untouched and by now cold cup of coffee, its content as pitch-black as a dark winter night and reflecting the bright afternoon sun above.  Disgusting in taste and disgustingly cheap in comparison, but he needed the table, and none of the waiters would bother him as long as he had at least one beverage in front of him, as maligned and untouched it was.

Cars rolled by exhuming grey fumes, the nearby fountain shot water into the air and people passed his table. Most of them in casual summer clothes, sundresses and cargo pants and shirts and some of them even with hats to gain some shade. For a moment, the man looked up from his notes and allowed himself a brief indulgence – the eyes behind the sunglasses darted from one healthy neck to another. A small, wolfish smile parted the pale lips and if there had been anyone to pay close attention, they would have gained a brief glance at his very pointed, very sharp and unusually long canines.

“Good afternoon, count.”

The man in the white moustache begrudgingly pulled his eyes away from his current mark – a lovely Turkish woman with streaming black hair that was climbing the stairs around the fountain just a shy dozen feet from his table, close enough for him to smell the sweet mixture of blood and perfume she exhumed – and he turned to the youth that had seated herself opposite of him, soundless and sudden as if she had appeared out of the thin air.

“And to you, countess. You are looking lively as always.”

She seemed young enough to be his granddaughter, though no one within their right mind would have thought to imagine a superficial familiarity between the two. A girl of fourteen years, with a healthy, rosy complexion and flowing, lush dark hair that curled at her shoulders, the sunshine twisting golden shimmers into its waves. Large doe-like eyes that projected innocence and hid a vicious intellect, a petite body that suggested fragility and cloaked the strength to bend iron bars as if they were straws. She was in white, of course she was, a pretty, knee-length dress and a white handbag in her lap and with her hands folded atop of it. The lid of her bag, the man with the moustache noted with a mild amusement, was riddled with numerous, colourful stickers and badges, and around her wrists hung several loops and bands of tiny gemstones like rainbow wreaths.

They were the only change about her since their last meeting.

“Thank you. My sincere apologies, there was an unfortunate delay with the train between Kassel and Hannover.” She shook her head. “More than five centuries since the invention of rail transport and still a simple thing like an open door may stall a train's journey for almost an entire fifteen minutes.”

She nodded at the travel brochure still open in front of him. “Are you already planning your next journey? I thought you would stay in Berlin a little while longer.”

“I am a traveller at heart, milady. Although my beloved home will always be in the heart of Europe, the other continents do possess their own charming allure,” he replied, setting the brochure and note block aside. “And besides, it has been a while since I have last visited the Americas. There must be much exciting game to be hunted there.”

“Always about excitement, is that the reason you wanted us all to meet here of all places?” The countess nudged her chin toward the broken church spire in the background, a disgusted sneer cracking her face. “And mirroring glass everywhere around us. One of these days, your thrill-seeking hunts might cost you your life.”

“How would the youth of your seeming generation say? No risk, no fun.” The count let his eyes wander around the square for a moment. “Where is Laura? The two of you were practically bound at the hip when we last met.”

The young-seeming woman stiffened in her seat. The snarl dissolved into a very neutral, very calm expression that seemed like it was carved from marble. “Laura is... no longer with us.”

A single eyebrow rose, but otherwise the count's face remained unmoved. “Hunters?

“No.” There was a subtle tremble of her lip, the count noted, before she continued: “She could no longer bear it, she told me, moments before she drove the knife through her own neck. She betrayed me, just like the others before her.”

“My condolences.”

She nodded, her face remaining neutral. “It has been over three decades since. I have moved on as best as I could.

“In fact,” she allowed herself a smile,” I happen to have a date just after we met up with our friends.”

“You still insist on fraternizing with your prey?” The count sneered. “Now that is a carelessness that will get you killed one day.”

“Because unlike you, I seek actual companionship?” Her eyes glinted like sharp icicles in the sun. “Because unlike you, I do not wish to to prolong myself in solitude and run afoul like some pack-less dog? Because I want to spend this blasted eternity with someone like myself?”

Blue flashed and briefly turned red. For a moment, the two stared at each other with an intensity not unlike of two big cats, every individual muscle tense and ready to pounce. Then as quickly as the moment came, it passed.

“I did not mean to insult you, milady. Forgive me. I only worry about others of our kind. We are already so very few remaining,” the count sighed.

“Do not kid yourself, count. You care for nobody but yourself,” the countess replied, but she too relaxed in her seat.

The next five minutes they spent in silence. The count returned to his brochure, only briefly looking up to take notes and to send another quick glance up at the clock tower. The young woman had produced a smartphone from her handbag and immersed herself in the screen, brief smiles lighting up her face in between her typing and the brief ping of sent messages.

“Empusa will be here in half an hour,” she said after little while and looked up from the screen. “She is picking up Lamia from the airport and helping her through customs right now.”

“What about Schreck?”

“The sun is still up, remember? He will meet us after dusk.”

“His mutation is as highly fascinating as it is impractical,” the count murmured. “Why didn't they update me about it?”

“We do possess a text chain, you know. I'm surprised you are not part of it, since you are always the one organizing our meetings.”

“I refuse to touch one of those damnable Apps ever since Lestat sent around pictures of his own rectum to everyone.”

“Suit yourself. Why the Americas?”

The count tapped his finger on the table. “The Mexica people of pre-Columbian America possessed fascinating religious rites related to blood sacrifice to honour their gods...I wonder if there might be others of our kind still in their old territory.”

The countess fiddled with her smartphone. “Sometimes, I admit, I envy your ability to travel without restraint. I tried everything, yet I still must return to my family's tomb ever so often.”

“Have you considered moving your tomb in its entirety, stone by stone? There are still many old woods and mountain valleys unmolested by human hand. I am sure the hags you usually travel with would be most grateful for the exercise.”

“I have tried, once, when Laura was still with me.” A twinge of sorrow crept across her face. “I wanted to go far, far away from home and take her with me. But then, my body began to wither, my senses to decay the longer I prolonged returning to my tomb for a night. Laura, too, could not go long without a place to return to. Horse-carriages can only get you so far. And when we tried to move a single stone, what little strength I had left in that moment was about to leave me.”

The count hummed. Then his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, swiped across the screen, read the message in silence. A wolfish grin split his face.  

“Then you'll be happy to know that I plan on putting an end to these laws that seem to bind us.”

“What to you mean?” The countess leaned forward, an eyebrow arched.

“I planned on surprising all of you when Schreck, Lamia and the others would be gathered with us, but I might just as well reveal it all now,” the count smiled and leaned back, hands tapered together. There was a red gleam to his eyes, behind the sunglasses. “In my studies of the Americas, I came across a new initiate to our little circle – one that shares many of my own tastes and wishes to help others of his kin. Among such, is breaking the accursed bindings placed upon us.”

He extended a pointing finger. “He is currently sitting on the other end of the Breitscheidplatz. The tall man, olive skinned, with the gold rings in his ears.”

The countess followed his direction, narrowed her blue eyes to a glint. “What is his name?”

“The old Mayan people called him Camazotz. And he might very well be one of the first of our kind to walk this earth.”

On the other end of the square, the tall, olive-skinned man with golden rings in both his ears turned his head and nodded at them. His eyes gleamed in a blood-red, and for just a moment, both of the undead nobles could catch a glimpse of his shadow flickering across the wall behind him.

For just a split-second, they saw the shadow of a bat the size of a small house, stretching its wings and enveloping the street within its grasp.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

*Gasp* ---> Having already downloaded all 179 pieces from your AO3 and sad that eventually I will get through it all BUT now realizing your Gossamer Laura Sprys account has ones not included in your AO3 --> Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. *jumps up and down in excitement*

:) ... I think I only have one on ao3 from gossamer but please ... be gentle ... some of the gossamer ones were written 26 or so years ago :) ...

Enjoy :)

[thenxghtwemet]

&&. cauldron above, ( darcy dunn ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( she ) is affiliated with ( the dawn court ). ( she ) is a ( 27 ) year old ( indentured human ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( rebecca rittenhouse ). ( she ) has been said to be ( hardworking & sweet ) but also quite ( cowardly & ambivalent ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( handmaiden to duchess louisa caerwyn)

Basic Info

Name: Darcy Dunn

Occupation: Handmaiden of the Dawn Court, serving Louisa Caerwyn

Age: 27

Place of Origin: The Dawn Court

Physical Description

Height: 5″8

Hair Color: Blond

Eye Color: Blue

Gender: Cisgender Female

Build: Slender

History

“Better a life of servitude than a life of starvation.” It was a frequent phrase, thrown about by the Jameson clan. Few humans could claim a legacy, and even fewer could claim its impact on their daily lives. But from the moment Darcy could walk, she was put to work. An inevitability, given her family lineage. The Jameson family served a number of noble fae in their generations. Humbled servants, with debts accumulated in exchange for coin or the mystique of magic. In Laura Jameson’s case, it was an amassed debt after the falsity of her husband. A spy entrenched in the Dawn Court, whose sins were paid by his death and the servitude of his wife. And soon after, his step-daughter. As a servant to the Caerwyn Dukedom, Darcy knew nothing but hard work and struggle. Lumenopolis may have captured the daydreams of fae, but by Darcy’s assessment, it was nothing short of a deception. It was the harshest of realities, as fae drew pleasure and privilege from their suffering. Still, Darcy kept her nose to the ground. Never one to speak ill, or spur an argument with her masters -- it was only a matter of time. Her coming-of-age would put an end to her obligations to her mother’s debt, and set her free. With an older half-sister, Delphine, serving as a handmaiden to the Caerwyn nobility; she would have options.

But weeks shy of her coming-of-age, her mother came to an accord with the Duke. As a mature woman, she was slower in pace and limited in her abilities. Her daughter, however, was spry and capable. Literate, hardworking, and capable; Darcy would make a fine substitute to pay off the remainder of her debt. The horrific betrayal, by Darcy’s assessment, would surely be unthinkable. It was a cruelty that she did not know of Duke Caerwyn or his family. But with a most casual nod, he agreed to her terms. Darcy can still remember the distinct look on her mother’s face as she told her the news. Although she wished to see an ounce of guilt, all the young woman could see was the relief and joy in her mother’s irises. Soon after, her mother left the noble house. Now, Darcy would carry on with her debt as an indentured servant. The devastation of it all tempted her to flee. But she knew better. A debt, especially to a high fae, was not so easily forgiven or escaped. By the grace of the Duke, she was plucked out of the kitchens to act as handmaiden to his daughter, Louisa

Currently, Darcy continues to serve as handmaiden to Louisa. However, as the cruelty of the Duke grows and whispers of a Resistance begin to linger in the kitchens, it isn’t long before a change is afoot.

Personality

Darcy, is best known for her bright smile and soft spoken charm. She soon learned that to survive, was to be liked. And so, she keeps her thoughts on the cruelty of fae or the resistance to herself, to survive the fray. A talented seamstress, cook, and dancer; Darcy exemplifies a picture-perfect handmaiden. Responsible, hardworking, and capable -- she seeks to make the most of her servitude pleasant. However, as the whispers of a Resistance grow, she finds herself growing bolder as well.

[vethyourhalflingmother]

anyway what we’ve learned today is sometimes we get our fanon content and our canon content mixed up and that’s why it’s important for me to try and source things

anyone who has a timestamp for when scanlan asks which twin is older and vax says “me” while vex says “it doesn’t matter, we’re twins”….. i will write something for you. or i’ll make a shitpost for you. i don’t know how to bribe people but this. specific moment. i have been trying to find and it’s driving me nuts.

[letterboxd-loggd]

Spencer (2021) Pablo Larraín

January 30th 2022

[the-t-boy-king]

Sherman Hollis deserves Father of the year. He traveled miles to find Laura, sprayed bear spry into the eyes of a vampire and a murderer,helped solved the mystery of the sword by cleaning it, made a device that helped Laura, Carmilla, Mel and Kirsch get into the pit, and he somehow got the fucking military to come to Salis university. If that doesn't isn't the best dad ever I don't know what is.

[lokirupaul]

Lokiru Paul : The Life and Suspicious Death of Cachou the Bear

The Life and Suspicious Death of Cachou the Bear



Cachou the brown bear was found dead on the mountains just above the village of Les, in the Aran Valley.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

Conservationists saw the 6-year-old brown bear as a symbol of hope. Villagers saw him as a menace. Then he turned up dead.

By Laura Millan Lombrana for 

Bloomberg

July 8, 2021, 7:01 AM GMT+3

Para leer el reportaje en español.

Ivan Afonso checked his computer one last time before picking up the phone. It was April 2020, and like most of Spain, Afonso was stuck at home under a strict Covid lockdown. But his mind was in the mountains.

An environmental scientist, Afonso also served as head of the environmental division in the Aran Valley, a tiny area of the Pyrenees mountain range that forms a dent along Spain’s border with France. For the past three years, his duties had included monitoring the movements of Cachou, a 6-year-old, 130-kilo (287-pound) brown bear. The bear was a local celebrity, one of the few males born in the wild in the Pyrenees and living proof that conservationists’ efforts to rejuvenate the region’s struggling brown bear colony were working.

The task had been a nightmare from the start. Cachou was young and fiery, and—to the dismay of conservationists and farmers—prone to wreaking havoc. Like most bears, Cachou had a sweet tooth. He’d started with assaulting bee farms, but by 2019, he’d learned to hunt horses many times his size. Eventually, authorities put a tracker on him, but even that didn’t work. At one point he was blamed for four attacks within two weeks.

Aran Valley

Source: USGS, EarthExplorer

Cachou had given Afonso and horse breeders in the valley some rest during winter. But the tracker showed the bear had come out of hibernation earlier than usual. He’d been in France in March, but a more recent ping put him somewhere in the mountains above Les, a tiny village of fewer than 1,000 people. After that he’d ventured deeper into the forest, close to a trail—and then stopped. The next 24 pings were all in the same spot. Afonso couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Either the tracker had dropped, or he was dead,” he thought. 



The Garona river, seen here from the village of Bossost, is born high on the Pyrenees and flows into the Atlantic Ocean in France.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

In light of the vast extinction event currently underway on Earth, the death of a single bear might seem less than significant. And yet, on the morning of April 9, 2020, Afonso decided it was time to do something. He called the head of Aran Valley’s government first, then dialed the valley’s ranger corps and requested two trustworthy agents who could discreetly hike to the place the pings were coming from.

Finally, he dialed the head of Catalonia’s park ranger corps in the Northern Pyrenees, Anna Servent. Spry in her early 40s, with a resolute expression and brown hair cut short on one side, Servent heads a small, semi-secret team of investigators who specialize in animal poisonings. Their methods are unconventional. While most rangers focus on analyzing animal remains, the people on Servent’s team spend years building networks of local informers. They wear plainclothes, change vehicles often, and tend to visit their sources in the middle of the night to avoid drawing attention.

By the turn of the 21st century, brown bears were almost extinct here after decades of indiscriminate hunting and poisoning. In 1996, just three survived in the entire 430-kilometer (267-mile) mountain range. While the population has recovered after several European Union-sponsored conservation projects, it remains Europe’s smallest colony, with a count of 64 bears as of 2020. The lower Aran Valley, with its thick forests covered in old beech, oak, and chestnut trees and a milder climate, has become a breeding ground for the endangered predators.

But what conservationists consider a victory, many who’ve grown up in the mountains see as a declaration of war. “Naturally, when you reintroduce a species that has been previously eliminated on purpose, you’ll run again into similar conflicts that caused the reduction in numbers in the first place,” says Elisabeth Pötzelsberger, head of the resilience program at the European Forest Institute, an EU research center. “It would be quite naive to think everyone will be happy and clapping hands.”



Anna Servent heads a small, semi-secret team of investigators who specialize in animal poisonings.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

After talking to Afonso, Servent and one of her investigators—whose identity can’t be revealed to avoid compromising ongoing cases—jumped in a car and drove fast through deserted, meandering roads into the Aran Valley. The view on the way in is bucolic, with rocky peaks covered in snow and slopes so steep one fears they might collapse onto the bright green pastures below. The stone towers and slate roofs of Romanic churches dot the expanse, which is split in two by the Garona river. Those who live there still speak a modern version of Occitan, a romance language troubadours used for songs and poems before the Renaissance. They’re proud of their rural roots and tend to look suspiciously at anyone coming from south of the Pyrenees. 

The Aran Valley community is so tight, Servent’s rangers hadn’t been able to groom informants in the area, so she hoped their car would go unnoticed as she and her teammate neared Les. They headed up the mountain trail, climbed through the steep forest, and reached Cachou’s body at roughly the same time as the local rangers.



Joan Vazquez, founder of environmental organization Ipcena, holds a picture of a book showing Cachou’s body in the forest where it was found.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

The bear was lying belly up at the bottom of a 40-meter rocky cliff, a single canine sticking out of his half-open mouth. There were signs he’d been there for a long time, but that the death was quite recent, indicating that he could have lay there suffering for a long time, which happens sometimes in poisoning cases.

Servent speaks in a low voice and a calm tone as she details their inspection of the body and the surrounding area, but her face is serious behind a blue surgical mask. “We didn’t see any signs of poisoning initially,” she says. That made them even more restless. Before they left, Afonso had told them: “If you don’t find an obvious cause of death, look for antifreeze.” 

Ivan Afonso likes to think of himself as a man between two worlds. He was born of the Pyrenees, but not of the Aran Valley, and completed his university degree in cosmopolitan Barcelona. At 47 years old, he still feels more at ease in the mountains looking for endangered birds or scouring remote ponds for rare frogs than he does in his small office in the Aran government’s headquarters.



Born in the Pyrenees and educated in Barcelona, Ivan Afonso likes to think of himself as a man between two worlds.

Photographer:Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

It pained Afonso not to be able to go out into the mountains to find Cachou, but he had reason to believe that they’d be walking into a crime scene, which meant that the fewer people there disturbing evidence, the better. Twice during 2019, he told Servent’s rangers, he’d overheard a man from Les talk about using antifreeze against bears, according to court documents seen by Bloomberg Green—once during a private meeting, and once during a public speech. This same man had once headed the Aran Valley Land Department, and was partially responsible for overseeing 2.4 million euros ($2.8 million) of EU funds intended for brown bear conservation in the Pyrenees.

“I didn’t pay attention to him at that time. Maybe it was a mistake, but I was skeptical,” Afonso says. “There are rumors about killing bears all the time. People boast about having killed a bear and the next day we see it appear on a surveillance camera.

“Even if I had paid attention,” he goes on, “what could have I done? Everyone in the valley has antifreeze. I’ve got two bottles at home.” 



A rusty trap used to catch bears is kept on a storage room on the basement of the Catalan rangers’ headquarters in Tremp (left). Aldicarb (right) is a pesticide now banned in Europe. A small quantity is enough to kill a wild boar.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

Antifreeze is a ranger’s worst nightmare. Used to prevent car engines from freezing and therefore widely available in shops and petrol stations, it goes undetected in common post mortem tests and vanishes from corpses within days, if not hours. It can only be found if the body is fresh, and if pathologists are specifically looking for it. 

A few hundred miles from where Cachou’s body was found, wildlife pathologist Roser Velarde was sitting in in her office at Universitat Autonoma de Barcelona’s Faculty of Veterinary Medicine, surrounded by microscopes and deer skulls, when she got a call from Afonso, telling her that the bear would be on her operating table by the next day. With 20 years of practice behind her, Velarde didn’t flinch—Cachou’s would hardly be her first animal autopsy, and certainly not her most challenging. Once, much to the amusement of her students and colleagues, she performed a necropsy on a whale on the patio outside because the animal wouldn’t fit inside her lab. 

During Cachou’s necropsy, Velarde spoke in the same patient, explanatory tone she uses with her students. The body had no bullet wounds, no broken bones, cuts, or major signs of violence. Some superficial teeth marks on the side of his head suggested that an animal, most likely another bear, had bit him, but that was ruled out as the cause of death. As she opened him up, she also ruled out death by common poisons, as most cause massive internal bleeding. Velarde spent four hours cutting, weighing, measuring, gathering samples, and taking pictures, but she found nothing. It wasn’t until after all that that Servent’s investigator, who attended the necropsy, told Velarde about Afonso’s antifreeze suspicion.



A professor at Universitat Autonoma de Barcelona, Roser Velarde has been performing necropsies, mostly on wild animals, for 20 years.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

Back in her office, Velarde processed samples of urine and brain tissue. Three days later, the university’s head of wildlife eco-pathology confirmed that the samples contained crystals of calcium oxalate, which are consistent with the presence of ethylene glycol, the chemical that comprises between 90 and 95% of antifreeze. 

About 12 hours after ingesting the antifreeze, Cachou’s neurological system would have started to malfunction. He would have felt severe stomach irritation and possibly slipped into a coma. His lungs and heart would have started to shut down within hours, but he could have stayed alive for as long as nine days later, until his kidneys finally failed. 

“Cachou the bear suffered a slow and very painful agony that went on for days—until he died,” Velarde concluded in her report, according to court documents. That, combined with the signals from the tracking device, meant Cachou was poisoned on or around March 26. 

“The first thing we did was to request the judge to keep the investigation secret,” Servent says—something typically only done in highly sensitive cases such as those involving drug trafficking and political corruption, and never before for the suspected murder of a wild animal. “It terrified us that people would find out and start getting ideas—and obviously we didn’t want the poisoner to know we knew.” Her request was granted. As a result, details of the investigation haven’t been made public.



Bees in the Aran Valley were among the first victims of Cachou’s attacks—like many bears, he had a sweet tooth.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

With no reliable sources in the area, Servent knew her team’s usual methods wouldn’t work, so she put in a call to the Catalan police, also known as Mossos d’Esquadra. 

Deputy inspector Cesar Jou tried to hide his surprise as the voice on the other side of the line told him about his next case. After 25 years as a policeman, most of them on the Mossos’ crime unit in the Pyrenees, he was used to homicides, drug trafficking, and organized violence. But Cachou was his first bear victim. “I was surprised when they asked me to investigate the death of a bear, but we treated it as if it was a homicide. It was a challenge,” he says.

Jou’s first move was to go to Les with his agents and ask locals if they’d seen anything strange in the days around when Cachou was poisoned. In places where everyone knows each other, crime is often seen as an attack on the community as a whole, Jou says. With the country on a strict lockdown, surely someone would have noticed something, he thought. 

He was wrong. “No one knew anything, no one had seen anything,” Jou says. Cachou’s killer was perceived as the savior of the village. “There was a sense of angst among the ranchers.”

Anti-bear sentiment in the region goes back generations. “Living with the bear is an obligation, something we haven’t decided,” says Frances Bruna, the current head of the Land Department in the Aran Valley government. A horse-breeder himself, Bruna talks dearly about his mares and explains that he, too, has suffered bear attacks in the past. “They’ll give us subsidies, aid, they’ll pay back whenever there are attacks. But inside us there will always be that feeling.”

Bruna’s various responsibilities are often at odds with each other. He’s charged with leading environmental and bear conservation initiatives in the valley, but he also looks after the wellbeing of farmers and their animals. Catalan authorities have spent years trying to mediate between these two worlds. The regional government now compensates ranchers for each animal killed by a bear, and last year spent 84,500 euros to install fences and pay for shepherds and mastiff dogs to watch over sheep and cattle in the Pyrenees during the summer months. It also pays for the animals’ insurance and has hired an external company that acts as a mediator between farmers and the administration.

“Bears were something imposed from Europe, paid with European funds that I guess someone was very happy to collect,” says Marc Cuny, the president of the Association of the Pyrenees Catalan Horse in the Aran Valley. “No one asked for our opinion, they just told us it would be the panacea—and it wasn’t.”



Marc Cuny feeds two of his mares at a field near Vielha. Breeders’ bond with their animals is emotional and goes back generations.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

It isn’t a matter of money, says Cuny. Standing in his field next to Ines, Monica, and Nera, three of his 16 mares, he keeps a close eye on a filly born just hours ago that his young daughter has named Peppa Pig. Horses are an important part of the valley’s traditions, and breeders’ bond with them is emotional, he says.

“Poisoning the bear was a mistake, and whoever did it wasn’t thinking about the consequences,” Cuny says. “But when a beast kills 12 or 13 horses and is not removed from the mountain, you can understand that someone decided to do it themselves.”



Two Mossos d’Esquadra agents hike across the steep slopes of the Pyrenees to the place where Cachou’s body was found.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

With no cooperation from locals, the investigation into Cachou’s death advanced slowly. Eventually, police identified five potential subjects, including the official who had talked publicly about poisoning bears; a local ranger who was part of the bear restoration program and had access to Cachou’s positioning data; two people whose phone signals showed they had been in the area around the date of the killing; and one who’d installed a surveillance camera near the place where the body was found.

Still, the investigation bore no real clues until the end of June. After weeks of fruitless interrogations, one witness—a ranger with the Aran Valley government—finally broke the code of silence, divulging the existence of a WhatsApp group called, bluntly, the Anti-Bear Platform, according to court documents. All the messages in the chat had been deleted, but Jou’s investigators could see that the group had over 140 members. Among the administrators was the official who’d talked about poisoning bears.  

Jou’s agents had already begun tapping the phones of the suspects they’d identified, but the Anti-Bear Platform gave them the key they needed to begin deciphering how the group operated. In the latter half of 2020, however, the investigation took an unexpected turn. The taps showed a network of people who were changing phone numbers frequently, working in tight shifts in a house in the valley. Some of them had Colombian accents.

On March 29, Jou’s team arrested 12 people suspected of belonging to a cocaine trafficking ring. Agents seized almost 2 kilos of pure cocaine worth about 200,000 euros, an unprecedented amount in an area where no one had previously suspected of drug-dealing activity of this magnitude. The Aran Valley is famous for the high-end resort of Baqueira, which attracts jet set skiers and mountain hikers from both sides of the border, including the Spanish royal family, and many now suspect the traffickers were serving its rich patrons.

“We thought it was Cachou’s way of saying ‘thank you’ for having investigated his death,” says Jou jokingly before getting serious again. “It’s been the most important cocaine operation for Mossos d’Esquadra in the Aran Valley for several years.” 

More than a year after Cachou’s murder, the investigation is almost complete. 

In November, police arrested two of their original five suspects, including the ranger who had access to Cachou’s positioning data and had been caught on a tapped phone discussing the position of a different bear entering the valley. The ranger denied the charges—which included the commission of a crime against fauna, revelation of secrets, and perversion of justice—and refused to give a statement. He was eventually released and remains a member of the Aran Valley rangers, although he’s no longer involved in bear-monitoring activities, according to the local government. The judge also summoned the official who’d boasted about antifreeze-soaked sponges, but he, too, refused to give a statement. 

Finally, in early June, police arrested the ranger who’d disclosed the existence of the Anti-Bear chat. His statements to the police were full of contradictions, and in tapped phone conversations with the other arrested ranger, he’d discussed deleting possibly incriminating messages. He also refused to give a statement and was freed on the same day.

The inquiry into Cachou’s death is the first criminal investigation into the death of a wild animal in Spain, and possibly anywhere else in Europe, environmental groups say. But it’s unlikely to be the last. The EU has made the conservation and restoration of natural habitats, including increasing biodiversity and expanding forests, an essential part in its fight against climate change, wildfires, and disease outbreaks.

Wolves, lynx and bears play a key role in that plan. These super-predators are known as umbrella species; because they’re at the top of the food chain, they can only thrive if every other animal and plant below them is healthy too. Their success or failure is therefore seen as a proxy for the state of conservation and biodiversity efforts, on which the bloc plans to spend 20 billion euros ($24 billion) a year over the next decade. 



A police agent looks down at the exact place where Cachou was found, deep inside the forest at the bottom of a rocky cliff.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

The trial could also bring further scrutiny to how European conservation funds are spent. In addition to the former Land official who was once in charge of administering this money in the Aran Valley, the ranger who allegedly leaked Cachou’s location was paid entirely by EU conservation funding.

“Aid must come with conditions,” says Joan Vazquez, founder of conservation organization Ipcena, which will appear as an individual prosecutor in the trial. “States are not watching how that money is spent, they just send reports to the EU saying everything’s going perfect. And the EU believes it unless there are cases like Cachou’s proving the contrary.”

This is not an isolated case of dubious oversight. A recent report by European nonprofit Bankwatch Network documented biodiversity plans by several Eastern European countries. Analysts found that some, including Bulgaria and Poland, directly infringe current laws, while others engage in greenwashing or other deceptive practices, all while receiving EU funding and applying for more.

In this harsher, more bureaucratic light, Cachou wasn’t just a bear, he was a bellwether. The fact that he was wearing a tracking device—and that Afonso moved fast to locate him—meant rangers got to the scene before his body deteriorated, which allowed Velarde to prove the cause of death in a way that would stand up in court. Because of Cachou’s fame and the existing tension between the Aran Valley’s bears and humans, the judge encouraged investigators on the case, include Servent and Jou, to use all means necessary to find the killer.

The judge in Vielha, the capital of the Aran Valley, is expected to formally charge the ranger, the public official, and potentially others when she closes the investigation, likely within the next few months. At that point, a different judge will bring the case to trial sometime next year in the city of Lleida, about 160 kilometers south of the valley. The mystery of Cachou’s death has raised so much attention that authorities fear Vielha’s tiny courthouse won’t be big enough to hold all the interested spectators.

Back in Les, locals await the start of the trial with a mix of uneasiness and indifference. On a foggy morning in April, a few of them read the paper and eat breakfast at an old cafe, casually chatting about whether the end of the lockdown would bring French tourists back. On the wall hang black and white pictures of dead bears and smiling hunters.

“I remember old people in the villages telling us stories about bears,” says Bruna, the current head of the Land Department. “Whoever arrived to the village with a dead bear was hailed as a hero and everyone wanted to be in the picture with them.”



Frances Bruna, the current head of the Land Department in the Aran Valley government, remembers the times when bear hunters were hailed as heroes.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

The investigation of Cachou’s murder has done nothing to erase those decades-old lines, Afonso says. Locals who either sympathized with the bears or who didn’t care either way have since turned against them after being summoned to testify, realizing their phones were tapped, or seeing the names friends and relatives written about as suspects in the local press. If anything, it’s made the community even more wary of strangers.

At base, the case is a clash between two ways of seeing the environment, Afonso says: the Araneses’ pragmatic view of nature as a profitable resource, and the outsider’s more romanticized view of humanity’s duty to protect and preserve.

“The most extreme examples of these two worlds are represented in this case,” Afonso says. “Very zealous justice and police systems that acted as if a person had been killed, and a wise guy who decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Servent thinks it will be a turning point in how authorities treat wildlife deaths. About 40 bears have died since 1996, some in circumstances that have never been properly investigated, according to Ipcena. Mysterious bear deaths include that of Cachou’s father, Balou, who according to reports by French authorities was hit by lightning and fell off a cliff.

“Everyone who has participated in this has taken it very seriously so it wouldn’t end in nothing,” Servent says. “Everyone has seen that the death of a bear can’t go unnoticed.”



The Pyrenees mountain range acts as a natural wall that isolates the Aran Valley from the rest of Spain. Its inhabitants are proud of their distinct identity and speak a modern version of Occitan.

Photographer: Angel Garcia/Bloomberg

As for Cachou’s killer, there are different views of who did it. The police and rangers think it was someone from the area who had access to Cachou’s confidential positioning data, knows the forests well, and knows how to use poison. The perpetrator has also likely suffered bear attacks, they say, possibly at the teeth and paws of Cachou himself.

Afonso has a different guess. He suspects someone has been killing bears for a while, but that Cachou wasn’t necessarily the target. The area where his body was found is a route frequently used by bears, and at a time when sightings are increasing everywhere on the Pyrenees, they’re falling precisely in that place.

“If I was the poisoner, I wouldn’t kill the only bear that’s wearing a tracking device,” he says. “That person was unlucky that Cachou passed by. I’m quite sure of that.”

[iluvu3k]

Reader is the medic on set of Homecoming and Tom purposely gets hurt to see her.

A/N: I got really unmotivated at the end and rushed to finish it and i hate it so sorry. feel free to request things.

You watched as the new blood made their way towards you, a skip in their step. You couldn’t help but grin at their excitement that you would soon watch wither away from the hard work and never ending hours.

“So, that’s the new Spider-Man?” Your partner elbowed you and laughed. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled back. “He looks like he’s five.”

“We look like we’re five compared to everyone else back at headquarters.” You and your partner we’re the youngest on the force. Only a year out of the Paramedic program. You were lucky enough to get selected to work on the new Spider-Man movie set for the sex few months, though you were pretty sure it was because nobody took two twenty year olds seriously out in the field.

“Ladies,” James, Sony’s human resources director who had brought you and your partner on, lead the group of young faces to your small tent in the back of the studio. “This is our newest star, Tom Holland.” He beamed, definitely over exaggerating to make a good impression. Tom stood a few inches taller than you, his brown curly hair bouncing as he nodded a shy ‘hello’ to you. You offered a hand shake instead.

“This is (Y/N),” James introduced you with a hand on your shoulder,” and Kat. These are the studios Paramedics, they will be assisting with the movie. So any scrapes of bruises come right to these angels, they keep upstairs happy and lawsuit free.” He looked at the man standing next to Tom this time, who you assumed was Tom’s manager. James introduced you next to Toms PA, Harrison, who tom quickly corrected as his best friend.

Just as they were about to walk off James’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he pointed the boys to the snack table before answering his phone running off. You took this as your cue to go back to your table where Kat had already gotten comfortable and wait out the rest of the day.

“Hey, wait, aren’t you a little young to be a Paramedic?” Tom asked, his accent surprising you. You gave a small chuckle before turning back to face him.

“Aren’t you a little old to still not have hit puberty? You’re playing a fifteen year old at what, twenty one? I wouldn’t criticize me age, bud.” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at the now smiling star.

“Fair enough.” He laughed. “I just think it’s really cool, is all. I’m glad we’ll be in young, spry hands.”

“Yeah, Tom is accident prone.” The blonde one that was introduced as Harrison nudged his friend earning his a small glare.

“No I’m not.” Tom defended. “I am the most graceful person you’ll ever meet.”

“Uh huh.” Harrison glanced over his shoulder to the fast approaching James. “Well, time to go, I’m sure we’ll see you around, (Y/N), and you too Kat. Good to meet both of you.”

“Yeah, good meeting you.” Tom smiled at you one last time before leaving.

“He’s cute.” Kat called from behind you, not looking up from her phone. “And his net worth is like five million dollars. One of us should totally marry him.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” You laughed.

Filming had finally started on set sending new faces your way every day. You had met all of the cast by now, hearing the same lines over and over again by the HR rep about lawsuits and liabilities. You smiled through it all, getting acquainted with Laura, Jacob and Tony.

It was a quiet job, safety was Marvel and Sony’s number one concern. Rigging was triple checked each day, there was no stair too high or fall too deep. You found that you spent most of your time reading or playing on your phone.

So it wasn’t a surprise that Harrison found your feet up and eyes closed in your ambulance the first time they needed you.

“Uh, (Y/N)?” Harrison knocked on the door, stirring you from your dream. You whipped the sleep out of your eyes quickly and jumped out of the vehicle.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Kat needs you,” He pointed towards the studio. “Tom hurt himself.”

“I thought he said he was the most graceful man I’d meet?” You laughed, walking to your medic tent.

“He’s full of shit.”

You walked up to Kat shining her small flashlight into Toms brown eyes. He was sitting on the cot in his Peter Parker outfit that fit him loosely. When she spotted you the flashlight turned off causing him to blink a few times before looking at you making you notice the red bump already forming on his forehead.

“What happened?” You asked Kat.

“I fell and hit my head on a prop.” Tom answered for her. You looked at him and rolled your eyes.

“What happened to that grace?” You grabbed the ice pack that Kat retrieved from the freezer and gently applied it to his injury.

“It was a graceful fall.” He smiled up at you making your heart skip a beat. He looked so innocent while playing Peter.

“There are like, six cameras that could show you otherwise.” Harrison spoke behind you.

“Fuck off.” Your new patient mumbled.

You sat with him while everyone else went on with their business, following the protocols enforced by the studio. Check for concussion, palpate the cervical spine, and check for any other injury. Tom asked you questions as you went.

“Well, I think you’ll live.” You tapped on your phone, messaging Harrison that Tom could go back to work now that the swelling had gone down.

“Are you sure? It was looking pretty rough there for a while.”

“As long as you don’t get your ass kicked by anymore props, you should be fine.” You took one last look at his forehead, your hand running over it and then through his hair causing his eyes to flutter shut.

“I’ll try my best.” He laughed and stood up, giving a quick stretch. His toned muscle peaked under his shirt reminding you he wasn’t the innocent fifteen year old he played.

“I don’t want to see you back here, Holland.” You warned as Harrison talked up.

“No promises, darling.”

  Week after week Tom had kept showing up with small bruises and cuts that could be fixed with a simple band aide but to avoid lawsuits you had to sit with him, sometimes for hours, making sure he was okay. You weren’t complaining, he was great company. You were both fans of Marvel, Tobi was your favorite Spider-Man and Tom couldn’t be mad because he was his too. You both enjoyed the same music and you often found yourselves killing time by singing to your favorite songs. He even attempted to show you how to do a backflip once but he had slipped making him stay an extra hour in the tent with you.

 “I have never met someone as clumsy as you, Tom.” You smiled, putting as icepack over his bleeding nose.

“I’m usually not this bad, I swear.” He laughed and leaned his head back to attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You tilted his head forward again, your hand brushing the back of his neck. He looked at you confused.

“My mum always told me to put your head back to stop the bleeding.”

“I mean, sure, if you want to drown in your own blood. Is your mom a trained paramedic?” You raisned an eyebrow in question.

“No.”

“The head down, Holland.”

There was a long silence as you filled out the paperwork that came with treating a patient. Admittedly, Tom felt bad that he had to watch you fill out what seemed to be like the most boring piece of paper every time he ended up in the medic tent. And admittedly, he ended up here on purpose.

The first time was an accident, he wasn’t watching where he was going, but he loved the way your fingers grazed his skin carefully as you examined him. He loved the way your face looked as you were concentrated on him and only him. He loved the way your hand ran through his hair. And most of all he loved the way you talked to him like he was a pain in the ass, because he was, but no one else other than Harrison had the guts to tell him that.

“So, uh,” You broke the silence. “What does your mom do?”

“She’s a photographer. She’s damn good too.” He pulled out his phone and slid through her Instagram. You leaned over his shoulder, so close he could feel the warmth of your body. He tried his hardest not to breath you in but that was just another thing he came to love about you.

“What about your mom? What does she do?” He tried to focus on anything in the room other than you.

“Oh, I don’t have one. My dad is a carpenter though.” You smiled, going back to the paperwork in front of you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.” Tom mumbled sheepishly.

“Oh, no, she’s not dead or anything.” You shook your head, “She just left when I was young.”

“So no siblings then?” He leaned back, making sure to keep his head tilted down so you wouldn’t scold him.

“An older brother. What about you?” You couldn’t focus on your paperwork anymore so you discarded in on the table and made yourself comfortable next to him.

“Four younger siblings. In fact, I bet Paddy would love to play with the sirens on your ambulance when my family comes to visit next week.”

“Tom, an ambulance is not a toy.” You frowned at him. “It’s a complicated piece of machinery. You don’t just play with the sirens. They’re for emergencies. I can’t believe you don’t take my job seriously.” Tom’s eyes grew wide, afraid he offended you. He sat up next to you, beginning to apologize.

“I’m just fucking with you, calm down.” You laughed. “Of course we can play with them.” You moved his hand, taking away the bloody rag and icepack. “Looks like you’re done bleeding. You should go get cleaned up and go back to work before you get in trouble. Again.” You hopped off the cot and Tom’s heart sank, already missing your warmth next to him.

“Oh, yeah.” He mumbled.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m guessing. You know, when I worked in the field I had quite a few reoccurring patients but you are definitely my most frequent.” Tom winced at the word patient, reminding himself that this was just a job for you.

“I’ll try to be more careful tomorrow.”

  Tom sat on his hotel couch, thankful it was much more comfortable then the cot he constantly found himself on. He fiddled with the cold beer in his hand while Harrison played with his phone, both of them ignoring the TV in front of them. Usually Tom would be focused on the latest cooking competition but tonight, Harrison noticed, his mind was somewhere else.

“You okay, mate?” He turned down Gordon Ramsey’s voice. Tom nodded but Harrison wasn’t having it. He threw his phone at his friend, finally getting his attention.

“What the fuck. That hurt.” Tom rubbed his arm.

“What’s wrong?” Harrison asked again. Tom sighed, rolling his head back in defeat.

“It’s (Y/N).” He pushed the beer up to his lips and took a drink. He enjoyed how the liquid made his head feel and how it could get her out of his head for just a little while. Usually.

“What about her?” Harrison’s brows furrowed.

“She only thinks of me as a patient. She’s only nice to me because it’s her job. I don’t know why I made myself believe she could actually like me. She’s so smart and I’m so, I don’t know.”

“You’re Spider-Man.” Harrisons knee knocked against Toms, “You’re Tom- Fucking- Holland.”

  Tom stood in front of your apartment door hesitating but he knew Harrison would kill him if he came home without asking you out, so he knocked.

You looked through your peephole, confused at the view.

“Tom?” You asked opening the door.

“I’m hurt.” He blurted out causing you to instinctively look him up and down. He didn’t look injured, if anything he looked better than usual.

“What? Come in, where are you hurt?” You started running your hands over him carefully as soon as he entered your living room, you could feel him tense up under you. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital, what’s wrong?”

“No, uh, it’s my lips.” He muttered. You looked at him confused. It was now that he was realizing this was the first time he had seen you out of your uniform. You were in sweats and a large tee-shirt, probably all ready for bed but you were still so beautiful.

“What?” You asked again.

“I need you to kiss them better.” Your brain was still in medical mode but you quickly realized what he had said and you could feel the blush spreading across your face. “That sounded a lot better in my head” He admitted. You bit your lip holding back a laugh. You closed the gap between you two and pressed your lips gently against his. When you broke apart you ran your thumb over his lip and smiled.

“I think you’ll live.” You whispered.

[femmesfollesnebraska]

Stephanie Harper, writer

Stephanie Harper shares with LFF about how she came to be a writer, the impetus behind her recent work, feminism and much more...

Stephanie received a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at Fairfield University with an emphasis in fiction in July 2012. Her work can be found in The Huffington Post, HelloGiggles, HerStories, The Montreal Review, Poetry Quarterly, Midwest Literary Magazine, Haiku Journal, and Spry Literary Journal. Her debut poetry collection, Sermon Series, was published September 2017 with Finishing Line Press.

Where are you from? How did you get into creative work and what is your impetus for creating? I'm from Colorado. I suppose I've been a writer as long as I can remember. I've always had a need to share stories. I decided to pursue writing as a career in high school after I was fortunate enough to have some wonderful teachers and mentors who really encouraged my work. Whether I'm writing fiction, non-fiction, or poetry, my desire is always to explore our relationships between one another and the the world around us. Tell me about your book and why it’s important to you. What do you hope people get out of your work? I just published my first collection of poetry, "Sermon Series," with Finishing Line Press. The poems focus on moments that are explorations of the self and relationships with the exterior world, both known and unknown, through concrete and tangible expressions of language. I hope readers will find a universally spiritual collection of poems that transcends religious tradition and instead focuses on the greater mysteries of living and experiencing the world around us. Does collaboration play a role in your work—whether with your community, artists or others? How so and how does this impact your work?

Collaboration is definitely essential to my writing life. I have a group of fellow writers I exchange work with and this is an invaluable part of the creative process for me. It's s important to have readers who really know you and your work. Writing can be such a solitary act. Just having other writers to brainstorm with and talk about the process of writing and creating makes things a little less isolating sometimes.

Considering the political climate, how do you think the temperature is for the arts right now, what/how do you hope it may change or make a difference? As a writer, I worry about the attacks on free press. It's a slippery slope and it's certainly concerning. Art in all forms has always been meant to push boundaries, to make us question. Any atmosphere that desires to stifle this is troubling. The good news is that I think art and artists always find a way to express themselves and the world around them. If anything, this struggle just pushes us to work harder to make our voices heard. 

Artist Wanda Ewing, who curated and titled the original LFF exhibit, examined the perspective of femininity and race in her work, and spoke positively of feminism, saying “yes, it is still relevant” to have exhibits and forums for women in art; does feminism play a role in your work?

I am always conscious of the work that I am creating and how it adds to conversations. I'm also aware of my role as a woman writer and how my voice fits into a larger discussion that way. My non-fiction, because I write about issues of chronic illness and body image, certainly most directly contributes to the discussion of women's issues. But I think my fiction and poetry is also very focused on issues of relationships and equality. Ewing’s advice to aspiring artists was “you’ve got to develop the skill of when to listen and when not to;” and “Leave. Gain perspective.”  What is your favorite advice you have received or given? The best piece of writing advice I think I've ever received was something along the lines of, "If it doesn't scare you, why are you writing it?" As artists of any stripe, we have the ability to dig deep within ourselves and expose pieces of our most fundamental parts. That level of vulnerability should be terrifying. And, I think the more a piece scares me to write it, the more I know I'm digging into something that's essential, that needs to be shared. -

http://www.stephanie-harper.com/

~

Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Deskins.  LFF Books is a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014) , The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015 and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017).Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. A portion of the proceeds from LFF books and products benefit the University of Nebraska-Omaha’s Wanda Ewing Scholarship Fund.

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