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blackkudos · 6 years ago

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Billy Porter

Billy Porter (born September 21, 1969) is an American stage performer, pop singer, film and television actor and vocal coach. He attended the Musical Theatre program at Pittsburgh Creative and Performing Arts School's School of Drama and achieved fame performing on Broadway before starting a solo career as a singer.

Porter won the 2013 Tony Award for Best Actor in a Musical for his role as Lola in Kinky Boots at the 67th Tony Awards. For the role, Porter also won the Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Actor in a Musical and Outer Critics Circle Award for Outstanding Actor in a Musical.

Early life

Porter was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to William E. Porter and Clorinda Jean Johnson Ford. His sister is Mary Martha Ford. He is a graduate of Carnegie Mellon University College of Fine Arts with a B.F.A. in Drama as well as a certification from the graduate-level Professional Program In Screenwriting at UCLA.

During the summers of 1985-1987, Porter was a member of an entertainment group called "Flash" which performed daily at Kennywood Park in West Mifflin, Pennsylvania.

Career

He played the Teen Angel in the 1994 Broadway revival of Grease!. Other shows he has been in include Topdog/Underdog at City Theatre (2004), Jesus Christ Superstar and Dreamgirls at Pittsburgh Civic Light Opera (2004) and the song cycles "Myths and Hymns" and "Songs for a New World" (Off-Broadway, 1995).

Porter wrote and performed in his one-man autobiographical show, Ghetto Superstar (The Man That I Am) at Joe's Pub in New York City in February and March 2005. Porter was nominated for "Outstanding New York Theater: Broadway & Off Broadway Award" at the 17th GLAAD Media Awards.

In September 2010, Porter appeared as Belize in Signature Theatre Company's 20th Anniversary production of Tony Kushner's Angels in America.

Porter originated the role of "Lola" in Kinky Boots on Broadway in 2013, with songs by Cyndi Lauper, book by Harvey Fierstein and directed/choreographed by Jerry Mitchell. Porter won both the 2013 Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Actor in a Musical and Tony Award for Best Actor in a Musical for this role.

Porter has also appeared in a number of films. He played a major role as Shiniqua, a drag queen who befriends Angel (David Norona) and Lee (Keivyn McNeill Graves) in Seth Michael Donsky's Twisted (1997), an adaptation of Oliver Twist. He has also appeared on an episode of The RuPaul Show.

He has had a musical career with three solo albums released, Billy Porter on DV8/A&M Records in 1997, At the Corner of Broadway + Soul in 2005 on Sh-K-Boom Records and Billy's Back on Broadway (Concord Music Group) in 2014. He as featured in a number of songs in the tribute album It's Only Life: The Songs of John Bucchino in 2006 released on PS Classics. He sings on Adam Guettel's 1999 album Myths and Hymns studio cast album on Nonesuch Records. He also covered "Only One Road" that was included on the Human Rights Campaign compilation album Love Rocks.

Porter wrote the play While I Yet Live, which premiered Off-Broadway at Primary Stages on September 24, 2014 in previews, officially on October 12. In addition to Porter, the cast included Lillias White and S. Epatha Merkerson.

Billy Porter released Billy Porter Presents the Soul of Richard Rodgers in April, 2017. The album, which features new, soulful takes on classic Richard Rodgers songs, includes solos and duets from the following artists (in addition to Porter himself): Tony and Grammy Award winners Cynthia Erivo (The Color Purple), Renée Elise Goldsberry (Hamilton) and Leslie Odom Jr. (Hamilton), Tony Award-winner Patina Miller (Pippin), Grammy Award winners Pentatonix and India Arie, Tony Award nominees Brandon Victor Dixon (Shuffle Along), Joshua Henry (Violet), and Christopher Jackson (Hamilton), alongside YouTube sensation and Kinky Boots star Todrick Hall and multiple Grammy Award nominees Deborah Cox and Ledisi.

Porter reprised the role of Lola in Kinky Boots on September 26, 2017, on Broadway, where he did a 15-week run.

In 2018, Porter starred in the FX show, Pose in the role of Pray Tell. Pose has been picked up for a second season to be aired in 2019. In August 2018, Porter confirmed via Instagram that he was joining the cast of American Horror Story for its eight season, subtitled Apocalypse.

Personal life

He and Adam Smith were married on January 14, 2017.

Discography

Albums

1997: Billy Porter (DV8/A&M Records)

2005: At the Corner of Broadway + Soul (Sh-K-Boom Records)

2014: Billy's Back on Broadway (Concord Music Group)

2017: Billy Porter Presents the Soul of Richard Rodgers

Singles

1997: "Show Me"/"What Iz Time"

2005: "Awaiting You"/"Time" (Live) (Sh-K-Boom Records)

2017: "Edelweiss"

Other songs

"Only One Road" on Love Rocks compilation album

"Love Is On The Way" on The First Wives Club album

"Destiny" with Jordan Hill on Jim Brickman's Greatest Hits album

"Where is Love?" with Liz Callaway

Appears in

Featured on a number of songs on tribute album It's Only Life: The Songs of John Bucchino

Adam Guettel's album Myths and Hymns in 1999

He is featured with Alan Cumming, David Raleigh and Ari Gold in a cover of "That's What Friends Are For", of 'The Friends Project' in support of the Ali Forney Center, a NYC shelter for homeless LGBT youth. The song was arranged and produced by Nathan Leigh Jones and directed by Michael Akers.

Concerts

Porter has performed at various venues in New York City, including Lincoln Center, which was broadcast on PBS in 2015 and Joe's Pub in New York City.

Television

Another World, Billy Rush, 1 episode (1998)

Shake, Rattle and Roll: An American Love Story, Little Richard, TV movie, 1999

Law & Order, Greg Ellison, 1 episode, 2004

The Big C, Eric, 1 episode, 2012

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Jackie Walker, 1 episode, 2013

Land of Lola: Backstage at Kinky Boots with Billy Porter, Host, 8 episodes, 2013

So You Think You Can Dance, Performer, 4 episodes, 2007-12

Christmas at Rockefeller Plaza, Performer, NBC, December 2014

Billy Porter: Broadway & Soul, Self, TV concert special, Live from Lincoln Center, 2015

Sinatra: Voice for a Century, Performer, TV concert special, Live from Lincoln Center, December 2015

The Get Down, DJ Malibu, 1 episode, 2016

Pose, Pray Tell (series regular), 2018

American Horror Story 2018

Film

Twisted, Shiniqua (1997)

The First Wives Club, singer (1996)

Anastasia, Ensemble (1997)

Intern, Sebastian Niederfarb, (2000)

Fabulous! The Story of Queer Cinema, composer, documentary (2006)

The Broken Hearts Club: A Romantic Comedy, Taylor, 2000

Noel, Randy, 2004

The Humbling, Prince, 2014

Theatre

Sources:Playbill Vault; Off-Broadway Database

Miss Saigon, Ensemble/John (u/s), Broadway (1991)

Grease, Teen Angel, Broadway (1994)

The Merchant of Venice, Solanio, off-Broadway (1995)

Songs for a New World, Performer, off-Broadway (1995)

Smokey Joe's Cafe, Performer, Broadway (1995–97)

Miss Saigon, John (replacement), Broadway (1998–99)

Jesus Christ Superstar, Jesus of Nazareth, Helen Hayes Performing Arts Center, Nyack, NY (1998)

Dreamgirls, James Thunder Early, New York Actors Fund concert (September 2001)

Radiant Baby, Various, off-Broadway (2003)

Topdog/Underdog, City Theatre, Pittsburgh, PA (2004)

Little Shop of Horrors, Audrey ll (replacement), Broadway (2004)

Chef's Theater: A Musical Feast, Performer, off-Broadway (2004)

Ghetto Superstar, Performer, off-Broadway (2005) - also playwright

Birdie Blue, Bam/Little Pimp/Sook/Minerva, off-Broadway (2005)

Putting It Together, Performer, New York (2009)

Angels in America, Belize, off-Broadway (2010)

Kinky Boots, Lola, Broadway (2013-2015)

Kinky Boots, Lola (replacement), Tour (2014)

HAM: A Musical Memoir, off-Broadway (2015) - director

Shuffle Along, or the Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed, Aubrey Lyles, Broadway (2016)

White Rabbit Red Rabbit, off-Broadway (2016)

Kinky Boots, Lola (replacement), Broadway (2017)

Awards and nominations

2013 Broadway.com Audience Choice Award for Favorite Actor in a Musical for Kinky Boots (won)

2013 Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Actor in a Musical for Kinky Boots (won)

2013 Tony Award for Best Actor in a Musical for Kinky Boots (won)

2013 Outer Critics Circle Award for Outstanding Actor in a Musical for Kinky Boots (won)

2013 Fred and Adele Astaire Awards for Outstanding Male Dancer in a Broadway Show Kinky Boots (nominated)

2013 Drama League Award for Distinguished Performance for Kinky Boots (nominated)

2014 Grammy Award for Best Musical Theater Album for Kinky Boots (won)

https://goo.gl/w1FTdr

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league-of-temptation · 6 years ago

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What are your favorite ships for each girl

This question is surprisingly difficult to answer, because there are so many characters in League and other Fandoms i like and would love to try~ I am very open to many, many ships and i do not have just a single favorite ship for either of them, per se (I’m shipping trash) So really all are welcome to message me and plot something out~ (Both canon characters and OCs!) (Just keep in mind i mainly ship them with female muses only)

But there are some ships i think work especially well with my versions of the temptresses~ (I am assuming you are referring to ships within the league verse) (And a lot more might be added, should i get to RP some different ships and feel that the chemistry is really well~)

————–————–

For Ahri those would be :

Xayah (Because my Ahri does still care about her heritage as Vastaya and she does feel horrible about what happened to Xayah’s tribe and would wish to show her, that she isn’t alone in this world)

Jinx (I love Jinx to death as a character and i see Ahri having an almost maternal kind of romantic affection towards her. She does feel that Jinx causes so much havoc, because she is actually really lonely and just longs for attention. So Ahri would wish to take her solitude away)

Irelia (Ahri sees the Bladecaller as a very strong and brave woman, admiring her resolve to protect Ionia with everything she has. But she also feels attracted to her beauty and grace, that she so often displays in battle through her mesmerizing dance-like movements)

Sona (Ahri thinks that the Maven of the Strings is fascinating. She loves music and dance, so she admires Sona’s soothing songs and the way she brings healing and solace to those who need it. The fox would love finding herself in her caring embrace any time)

Katarina (Something about the sinister blade has struck a chord with the fox. Beautiful, dangerous and yet passionate..very much like Ahri loves her partners to be)

Lux (The gumiho thinks that the light mage is incredibly endearing and would love sharing her experience as a woman with the young mage~)

Qiyana (The beautiful and prideful, perhaps considered even overly boastful empress of the elements. Ahri would love to show her that there are things worth admiring apart from only herself.)

————–————–

For Elise i have :

Syndra (I absolutely love this ship because ask-syndra’s Syndra is so adorable and absolutely perf *Swoons* And she made me love this ship even more.)

LeBlanc (With both being effectively forever young and Elise once having been a part of the Black Rose, I would see Elise still regarding LeBlanc as a close friend and ally, whom she harbors a lot of feelings for)

Kalista (Elise sees Kalista as one of the only good and redeemable aspect of the Shadow Isles, where everything has otherwise become twisted and cruel. She harbors great interest in the Spirit of Vengeance and would love getting to know about her more)

Soraka (Soraka’s incredible kindness and mercy, willing to help anyone in need, even at the cost of her own well-being; has captivated the spider queen. She would long to protect and preserve someone so benevolent and beautiful. And she would be overjoyed to feel the starchild’s care. )

Cassiopeia (There is something very fascinating about the beautiful Serpent to Elise, having been turned from a human to a more..inhuman form herself. she would be intrigued to enter more intimate relations with her.)

Senna (Another victim of the Shadow Isles, yet her resolve and tenacity brought her back from the abyss. Elise sees her as one of the other few good beings, that was to be found oh those cursed Isles, even though she knows Senna wasn’t there voluntarily. She admires the sentinel of light’s ambition, seeking to end the suffering of the souls trapped in the shadow isles, though Elise would love to mend Senna’s cursed soul..as well.)

————–————–

For Evelynn :

Akali (I love this ship because of proper-balance’s (who sadly does not seem to be around anymore) amazing Infernal Akali~ Evelynn loves spending time with her fiery goddess. Also, KD/A made me like this ship even more.)

Riven (My Evelynn knows about having to travel the world on her own, regretting her past deeds and trying to atone for them by becoming a better soul. So she would feel very empathetic towards the exile and seek out to mend her solitude)

Vi (My Evelynn has found herself fantasizing about being in the strong arms of the pink-haired officer more than she would admit.)

Caitlyn (On the same note, Evelynn has a very great interest in Vi’s partner, the beautiful Piltover sheriff. She certainly does want to know more about those “fuzzy cuffs” the sheriff keeps talking about ;) )

Neeko (Neeko is just so adorable afsahjgfh. And also because her interaction with Evelynn in game clearly indicates mutual interest :3)

Vayne (Evelynn, the shadow walker and vampire. a being of the night. Vayne, the night hunter. It would just be so lovely to see Vayne on a hunt for someone she thinks is a cruel demon, but then finding out, that Evelynn isn’t as cruel as she seems. And perhaps coming to experience herself, that the widowmaker instead is actually very caring and sensual on top.)

————–————–

There also are others, that i generally would love to try out with either of my muses~

Miss Fortune (What’s not to love about a gorgeous, daredevil bounty hunter? Sarah knows how to have a good time and my ladies would love showing her the same. And a possible Mafia AU? Sign me up)

Lamb/Farya (Kindred) (Lamb is so adorable asdfghasd and her soothing voice makes me melt)

Tristana/Lulu/Poppy (I just think they are soo adorable and i could easily see all of my ladies being drawn to their endearing beauty)

Ashe (Something about the young princess of the Freljord, who is brave and resolute, yet merciful and just, does fascinate the temptresses and they wouldn’t mind exploring more.)

Camille (I would really enjoy for any of my ladies to warm Camille’s steel heart and make her feel true love once again. Also dem legs)

Diana/Leona (The Chosen of the Moon and the Radiant Dawn would be a very welcome sight, both incredibly strong and yet graceful and gorgeous~)

Fiora (Beauty, precision, grace. And a sexy french accent. What is there not to admire?)

Kai’Sa (They would deeply admire her will to protect the people of Runeterra from the terrors of the Void, even though most of them would see her as a monster herself. They’d understand and feel for her struggle and wish to mend that solitude with their affection)

Karma (They all think that the enlightened one is very gorgeous and they admire her incredibly wisdom and resolve to guide Ionia to peace. And i also find her aesthetically very pleasing.)

Lillia (A shy, skittish little faun with scottish accent? Yes.)

Lissandra (I just really love the idea of having one of my Temptresses thawing that frozen heart of the Ice Witch)

Morgana (The fallen angel, who chose mercy and kindness over blind judgement, does resemble the same kind of change-of-heart that the temptresses themselves have had. They would love to take away the loneliness of being banished from her old home)

Sejuani (A beautiful, strong warrior princess with snow white hair and toned abs? Yes please)

Shyvana (A dragon waifu would always be welcome for any of the temptresses~)

Sivir (I would love having any of my Temptresses show her, that there are some things, that might be even more enjoyable than a good pay~)

Zyra (I love the Poison-Ivy-ish vibes she has going~ And all three of them, having been predators in their pasts, would be happy to show the Lady of Thorns, that you can do much more enjoyable things to people, that just feeding off of them)

————–————–

And there also are so many interesting and lovely OCs out there, for example @highseaqueen’s gorgeous and wonderful Hayven, whom my Evelynn has fallen for very hard.

But like i said, i really love to try out many ships, so everyone is welcome to message me and discuss about setting something up~ (Just please make sure to read the rules xP)

#Out of temptation #Look at how long the post got ugh #i told you i am shipping trash x3 #There are so many interactions and chemistry i would love to play out

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imthehuman · 7 years ago

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With every post, a smile, ت

#Giphy #GIF #kristen wiig #maya rudolph #bridesmaids #best friends #annie walker #funny movie #lillia

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mariocki · 4 years ago

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Out of the Unknown: The Last Lonely Man (3.3, BBC, 1969)

"Look, I've had my fair share of troubles, but I'm not such a bad bloke. In any case, I look upon this as a kind of experiment."

"Experiment?"

"Two personalities, diametrically opposed - you and me - coming together under the same dome. We're pioneers, you and I, offering ourselves as guinea pigs; researching the frontiers of Contact for the benefit of mankind!"

"That's how you see it?"

"That's how it is!"

#Out of the Unknown #The last lonely man #john brunner #Jeremy Paul #Douglas Camfield #1969 #BBC #George Cole #Peter Halliday #June Barry #Lillias Walker #Stanley Meadows #Peter Welch #Bryan Mosley #Eve Ross #Gerald Young #Anthony Woodruff #Richard Wardale #Gillian Shed #Albert Lampert #Annabella Johnston #Series 3 babeys! And we're in glorious colour! Those glossy film inserts really pop now! The move from bw to colour will always have a #Slight change on the feel of a series; here in a way it feels like it's opened the show out a bit and made it more.. Real? Slightly less #Artful a little more naturalistic. Or perhaps that's just the plot of this week's ep which is very kitchen sink Sci fi full of dull office #Types and regular world drunks. The Sci fi idea (Contact: a sort of mind transference at the point of death into a willing partner) is both #Believable and an interesting subject for unexpected side issues (conflicting personalities for eg; also this new kind of near immortality #Brings with it a sort of disregard for one's current life and body). A good conceit and a strong cast but this suffers that age old problem #Of a single entry in an anthology series: the joltingly abrubt ending (presumably to fit within a secure time slot). Here it leaves a lot #Of frustrating questions about how this plot will continue to play out and the ultimate fate of our characters. Perhaps the source story is #More complete in nature. And so there we go; alas this is the sole extant s3 episode. But we have some reconstructions to look at...

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borisaronson · 7 years ago

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youtube

Numbers on television from the original Broadway production of Once on This Island during the '90-'91 Broadway season: Fragment of original Asaka, Kecia Lewis-Evans, in Mama Will Provide; understudy (?) Asaka, Fuschia Walker, in "Mama Will Provide"; and (at 3:22) LaChanze (with Lillias White and others) in Waiting for Life to Begin.

#Once on This Island #kecia lewis #Mama Will Provide #Fuschia Walker #LaChanze #Waiting for Life to Begin

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joyfullynervouscreator · 7 years ago

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The Walkers pt 6

Chapter 6 - this is long ;)... but so are most of the chapters in this work tbh...

Somehow, the small bird’s insistence gives him hope, forces him onwards, his long strides eating up the miles as he walks through the autumn weather; it is still sunny, but the nights are beginning to chill. Beorn is glad of his other skin when night falls, the fur keeping him pleasantly warm and protected from the wind that cries across the plains, bringing with it the first nip of winter.

Running.

As you flee, your lynx body has never run faster, and you don’t care about possible pursuit, don’t care about being spotted, you simply need to be somewhere you won’t be found by a Man when it comes at last, when the fire takes over, burning away all reason with furious need. You feel desperation licking at your heels, knowing Ordred will be back soon, along with his parents and siblings. You curse your biology, but there is no way you can explain to Athelstan’s family why you’re crying out in the barn, why you’re begging for your mate to quench the fire, why you’re covered in bruises. At best, they’ll think you’re insane, but at worst… at worst, Ordred will get his wish. You do not think you could survive that, not when you return to your right mind to find that you’ve mated with him because he was the only one available. Even Men might be affected by the scent of a female in heat, or simply look for their own pleasures. You have not had cause to test it. Athelstan was away for war the first time, but he kindly went to visit his sister the second time… you do not think Ordred will show you the same kindness, remembering his roving eyes and covetous gaze.

Even mated females are weak afterwards, relying on the care of their mate… It is a lesson your mother told you, her eyes pained with old sorrow as she spoke of her sister, set upon by Men, because she had strayed without care and used until she had no more to give, then left for dead. ‘You need your mate to care for you, or you need to make arrangements for your own care’, she said, and it was a lesson that stuck, having watched Lillia work herself bloody in the throes of what is now coming for you, dreading the agony even though you have gone through it before, survived before… but that was with Beorn, or at home on the farm, a small voice in the back of your head worries, with ready access to food or even just water. You snarl at the voice, your tail swishing as you put on another burst of speed towards the dark blur on the horizon.

Fear keeps you moving, keeps you running, a different fear than the last time you ran for your life, but no less potent, your lungs heaving in air as you push your paws to go faster, further, faster. You have to get far enough away that no one will find you, will force you into a bond you would not want if you could choose. There are reasons for mating in non-heat years, for learning, and building, and trusting, even for love – before there are cubs to tend and raise.

As you run, the embers light, consuming your flesh with more and more fire, until you feel like you are ablaze with it. You keep running, pushing away the mindless need with boundless fear. The trees beckon.

In the coolness of ‘haunted’ Fangorn, you surrender to yourself, feeling a wry amusement that your screams will add to the tales of the ‘evil’ trees if anyone hears you. They will not dare investigate, even if they do.

Beorn almost doesn’t believe it when he catches her scent, her territory marked around the boundary of a small farmstead; the smell is a little stale, but unmistakably Ullrae. He’d know her anywhere, even though it has been so long since the last time he smelled it. His heart beats faster, as he sets off in a run, loping with long strides towards the farm.

“Ullrae!” he calls, his voice hoarse with emotion. Ullrae does not appear. Instead, one of the straw-haired Men appears in the doorway. Beorn sniffs. He does not like the scent of this man – is this Ullrae’s friend? Her mate? – who picks up an axe before he steps any closer. Beorn smirks, wondering if the Man thinks himself a threat. The thrush chirps from its perch in his wild mane, scolding him for jostling it with his run. Beorn chuckles at the small bird, before focusing on the man with the axe. He is young, and looks strong – for a Man, at least. Behind him, an older woman appears. The resemblance is clear: his mother, most likely.

“Who are you?” the young man asks, staring suspiciously at Beorn’s smile. Beorn smiles wider, breathing in the scent of unease wafting from the man. Good. He does not smell like Ullrae; even if he did, Beorn isn’t sure he would have been any less intimidating. In fact, he might have been more so. He wants answers, and he wants them now.

“Beorn is my name,” he replies, nodding. The man seems startled, but then his face closes off in anger. Scenting the air, he does not think Ullrae is still here, but Beorn has to ask; he is so close, he can almost feel her, safe in his arms where she belongs. “I am looking for the woman Ullrae. Golden eyes and brown hair, about this tall,” he indicates; Ullrae is a little shorter than him, “sharp features.” The older woman opens her mouth, but the young man pushes her back inside the house before she can speak.

“Aye, she was here,” he says, darkly, “she’s dead. We buried her yesterday, by the pasture.” Beorn can’t speak, turning woodenly to the plot of upturned earth the Man indicates. He feels nearly paralyzed. “Now get you gone, tall one, there’s nothing for you here.”

Moving slowly, Beorn walks towards the new grave, falling to his knees beside the dirt. The thrush chirps, but he pays no attention to the tugging of its feet in his hair. Ullrae… her scent is here, faint, but he can’t deny that it is fresher here than at the borders of the farm where he first found it. Fresher… and mixed with the scent of death, the sweet decay of meat.

He is too late. He has not kept her safe, protected his mate… again.

Burying his fingers in damp soil, Beorn begins to sing softly. It is an old mourning song, learned many years ago, and he barely remembers the words as his tears water the earth around his clenched fists.

In the grasslands rivers flow In the mountains Walkers roam Hear my song of sorrow, mourning; for now I Walk through life alone.

She joined the Hunt Eternal forever wild she will run her kin her welcome gladly as they play in the rays of the sun

I walk the world on my own only silence meets my roar Until we join once again and, as spirits, spread wings to soar.

“ULLRAE!!” her name is a roar; the bear’s roar of utter agony. There is no response; the thrush has flown away, though Beorn does not realise, staring numbly at her grave.

Beorn does not move until the last rays of the sun has long-since set. He knows at least one Man is watching, but he does not turn to see if it is the woman or the man, sees nothing but the path north as he removes his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the ground. Behind him, someone shrieks, but Beorn does not care, simply begins walking, naked, as his heart is torn apart, shredded by the vicious teeth of separation; separation so painful he does not know how he keeps walking. He believes he will find her once more, find her in the Hunt when he dies, but it is little comfort, one thought screaming in his head. Every step he takes, it resounds in his mind, breaks another little piece of his heart.

I am the last Walker.

He though so before, but he’s had thirty years of peace from that fact, and now… now he is alone once more, and he knows that this time… this time he will fight for vengeance alone, no longer caring whether he survives his hunt for the Orcs who destroyed his people.

“Why did you tell him she died?” Mildwyn frowns at her son. She has only met Ullrae a few times, and she is worried about what happened to her, why she has left so suddenly, leaving all her clothes and things behind. If that man knows Ullrae, maybe he’d be willing to help search for her? Folcwine had offered to stay and help, but she’d convinced her husband to return to Aldburg; the inn had been left in the care of less experienced hands for several days already.

“She will be my wife, mother,” Ordred replies, smiling. Mildwyn does not like that smile; it is too dark for her son. “When she returns, I will make her mine; whoever that man was, he will not come back, will not try to take her away.”

Mildwyn shakes her head. Ordred seems so certain of his future, but Athelstan said Ullrae did not want him; he wouldn’t… force her… right? Walking to the window, she looks out at the giant man who is crumbled by her brother’s grave; Mildwyn recognizes the motion of his shoulders as sobs. She cannot hear him, but there is no mistaking the grief in the lines of his body. Ordred is wrong to trick him so, she knows, the sight of such a powerful man brought low tearing at her mother’s heart, even if she doesn’t know him at all. It is clear that Ullrae was important to him; he has that same look as she did, something unusual and a bit animalistic – perhaps she is his kin? Making a swift decision, Mildwyn moves to the doorway, intending what she doesn’t know, but Ordred blocks her path easily. Looking over his shoulder, she watches the man undress, her mouth falling open at the sight. Ordred turns, and she pushes past him in his distraction, but he pulls her back into the house with a violent tug that makes her cry out in surprised pain at the strength of his grip.

“Stay here, mother,” he commands harshly, before ducking out of the small farmhouse. Mildwyn stares after him, heart racing. She wishes she had returned to Aldburg with her husband. This man… is not like the son she raised.

The bear moves among the trees, the Man little more than a ball of red-hot agony in the back of his brain. It doesn’t matter; the bear simply moves on, instinct guiding him towards his enemies. The bear does not think, it only knows that its mate is gone, and with her any hope of cubs – of a future. There is only vengeance left, only the siren-call of blood to be spilled, death to be dealt – and found.

You feel weaker than ever before when you come back to yourself; unable to move. You know you must, know you have to get up, get moving. Unless you wish to die here, you need food, but you don’t care. Grief envelops you as you lie in the mulch, too tired even to whimper, almost too dried out to weep. Athelstan will have been buried by now, you know, and you had not been there to witness it, had left before anyone came to the house. You wonder briefly what Mildwyn and Gyda will think to find you gone, but the thought disappears into a hazy doze. For a long time, you simply lie there, listening to the trees overhead, the sounds of animals uncaring that you are dying beneath the branches. You have stopped screaming; peace is once more restored in the forest and slowly the sound of a trilling bird fills your ears. You close your eyes, feeling the calm of the green world around seep into your bones.

The thrush is back, Beorn realises absentmindedly, and because he’s become so used to following the chirpy little thing the bear turns away from his straight north course, turns away from the straight path to vengeance and death and follows the bouncy ball of feathers as it hops from branch to branch, leading him to a small clearing.

Leaves cover the body, dirt streaks her skin; she blends in so well he’s almost stepping on her before he sees the naked woman. Nosing her neck, the bear whines, knowing that she is important, but the Man does not care to make sense of what he sees, what he feels, content to sit in his heart-ache and replay her face in a million lights and moods. The bear huffs, nosing cool skin again. The woman whimpers, but her eyes do not open. Lying down beside her, Beorn manages to grab her arm in his teeth, rolling over to pull her onto his back. Her wrist snaps, which makes him wince, but the woman does not even cry out at the pain. He walks, slowly, letting his nose lead him to water as he roars at the part of him that belongs in human skin.

They have to act fast; together, if there’s to be any hope at all.

Beorn has a weight on his back. That is odd. It’s his first coherent thought in a long time; it’s odd that his bear side is carrying something; bears do not usually carry things on their backs, except sometimes their cubs. When the scent hits him, he thinks it is no more than a memory; it is Ullrae’s scent, mixed with something indescribably delicious that makes his blood thrum wit recognition, but overlaid with a discordant sweet smell of approaching death. He shudders in revulsion. The thing on his back makes a sound, halfway between a moan and a whimper. Beorn freezes, staring into the stream he has reached as full consciousness slams back into him, two sides re-joining to form a whole, staring into the reflection in the water.

The face is achingly familiar beneath the dirt and the bloody trail of a split eyebrow that has already grown back together.

“Ullrae…” he whispers, changing back to his human shape before he is even aware of making the choice, laying her down on her back and looking at her battered form. Beorn whines low in his throat, pulling her up against his chest, frowning at the coolness of her skin. Cupping his hands in the clear stream, he brings them to her lips, whimpering when the water simply trickles into her mouth and back out, trailing down her chin. Kneeling on the ground, he shifts her, turning her back against his chest and hissing as her cold skin touches his warmth. In desperation, he pulls her up higher, lifting her into his lap and off the damp leaves, tilting her head back onto his shoulder and tries again, rubbing her throat to make her swallow reflexively. “Ullrae, please,” he whispers brokenly, hardly daring to believe this isn’t simply an exceedingly vivid dream soon-to-become the kind of nightmare where he can’t save her, having to watch her die in his arms. “Please, my love, you have to drink.” He needs to hunt something for her, but he doesn’t dare leave her alone; she’s too cold. If she was a lynx, he might trust to her fur to keep her warm, but he doesn’t know how to make her change shapes unconsciously; an oversight after twenty years of cohabitation. In desperation, he tries stroking the pressure points that would encourage his own shift, but nothing happens. Either it doesn’t work on her kind or she’s simply too weak.

Cupping his hands once more, he manages to get her to swallow another mouthful of water. She whimpers, huddling into his warmth. “Can you shift for me, wild thing?” he murmurs, but she doesn’t respond. Burying his face in her neck, drawing in her scent, Beorn’s tears fall onto her bruised flesh, streaking trails in the dirt that covers her. He would wash her, but the stream is icy, and she is already too cold, too pale, too still.

She needs food, but she needs to be warm before he can leave her… Beorn has an idea; it’s crazy, but it just might work. He doesn’t stop to think about it, using his teeth to score his wrist lengthwise, pressing the bloody wound against her lips. A moment passes, his other arm wraps around her, his fingers stroking her throat, trying to coax her to swallow his blood. Ullrae swallows once. Her tongue moves lightly over his skin, pleasingly rough as she laps up his blood weakly. This isn’t how mates are supposed to care for each other, he knows, but still feels a wild part of him sing with a combination of male pride and lust that he is caring for his mate, caring for her needs, giving her sustenance with – after a fashion – his own hands. Beorn smiles wryly. Ullrae swallows compulsively, sucking lightly. A distant part of him feels relieved she isn’t so far gone she would try to bite off his hand, or tear open his veins further. She only needs enough to spark her own survival instincts, get her body back on track.

“Be…orn…?” she whispers faintly, her head falling back against his shoulder once more. She is trembling.

“Hush now, wild thing,” he murmurs against her temple, bringing his wrist back to her mouth, watching his blood dribble between her chapped lips, watches her swallow the potent red fluid. He knows when she falls asleep, true sleep; the kind of nap she always needed after her heats – Beorn knows what has happened; what is only just finished happening. He can smell it on her skin, feel the answering stirring in his own loins, in his own blood. As much as he hurt her by staying away when she was in heat, he always spent those three days in a haze of lust himself, the smell of her more than potent enough to make him empty into his own fist, even when she was safely locked in the barn, far away from him and his base urges. He does not think he ever told her that he spent those three days locked up in the house himself, fighting the need to go to her, listening to her cries as penance.

As he licks the last drops of blood from his wrist, watching the small cut clot, his lust is overridden by his concern for her, his need to care for her; it’s a deep imperative, even if he rationally knows that she is not carrying a cub – his or anyone else’s. Shifting into his bear-form, he rumbles happily when she snuggles against him, wrapping his strong limbs around her to keep her warm. The bear watches her sleep, his eyes roving over her features again and again as he lets the sound of her breathing fill his ears.

It is hours later when she stirs, his blood crusted in the corner of her mouth as she stares blearily up at him, confusion in her golden eyes. She blinks.

“Be…orn?” she asks again, lifting her hand weakly to stroke his face, wincing slightly. Beorn feels a little guilty, remembering the way he sprained her wrist when the bear picked her up. He huffs, licking her cheek in apology as he rolls them, getting to his feet. When she makes to move, he growls at her to be still, knowing she can’t understand the words, but she will recognise the command. Ullrae crumbles back to the ground, making him wish he hadn’t left his clothes at what he had thought was her grave. Feeling a moment of complete panic at the memory of the freshly turned earth, he lopes back to her, licking her face again. Ullrae smiles weakly. The smell of death no longer lingers on her skin; she smells of him, now, smells like she is his. Satisfied, he gives her another lick before moving off among the trees, his nose scenting the air. She needs meat, and plenty of it.

You fall asleep once more, curled up in a small ball to keep the warmth Beorn has given you, your mind far too tired to make sense of hows or whys, checking out with the swift and silent steps of a lynx on the prowl.

You wake at the sound of a thump, something hitting the leaf mulch in front of your face with enough force to waft a leaf onto your nose. You sneeze, opening your eyes to see the carcass of a freshly killed deer in front of you, the meat still steaming.

You pounce.

It’s bloody and messy; you’re tearing strips of meat off the bones with your fingers and it’s glorious. When the first bites hit your stomach, you growl at the bear who has wisely retreated to the other side of the clearing, watching you eat with a smug satisfied air. Growling, you change skins, your sharper teeth and claws making greater inroads in the kill until you’ve gorged yourself on all the best pieces, filled the emptiness of your belly. Looking up, you catch sight of Beorn, truly registering his presence for the first time. You stare. His muzzle is bloody, something you know he dislikes, and you don’t even think before loping towards him, cleaning him with your tongue before you set to cleaning yourself, yawning widely. Beorn huffs at you; an amused sound, passing closely by you as he moves to the leftovers, eating what he wants and dragging the bare bones off into the underbrush to bury somewhere. You turn to the fresh stream, lapping greedily. Feeling pleasantly full, you change back, washing the parts of your human skin that are not raw and tender to the touch. You hiss loudly when you try to sit in the stream, the chilly water running red as you clean off the blood you have spilled over the past three days. You know you have scratched yourself bloody, feel the throbbing ache in your most abused flesh, but the coolness of the water numbs the pain a little.

“Ullrae,” Beorn whispers, making you look up at him. He reaches for you, seeming unsure all of a sudden and making you feel unaccustomedly shy about being naked. Looking down, you feel tears pressing, weeping for Athelstan and a little for yourself. Beorn’s arms wrap around you, pulling you from the icy stream and carefully wiping off the water with mullein leaves as he cradles you on his lap. “Spirits help me, Ullrae,” he whispers, and you can feel him tremble against you. At first you think he is chilled by the water, but the broken sound of pain he utters when you try to shift off him, combined with the way his arms tighten around you, convince you to stay were you are. You’re pressed against his chest, feeling safe and cared for as his face hides in your hair, his shoulders shaking with hard sobs; filled with a desperation you wish you could heal. You hide your own tears against his warm skin, bury your nose against the side of his neck, the soft and bristly hair on his furry jaw warming your face. A strange contentment fills you, dozing off as you let his familiar scent comfort you.

“Beorn?” you ask him, when your tears have stilled. His face is still buried in your hair, but he is no longer sobbing. His fingers press into your thigh.

“I thought you were dead,” he admits, crushing you tightly against him with a whimper. You reach out to stroke his arm, snuggling into his embrace. “I found your farm, and… and the Man told me you were dead, showed me your grave.” You stiffen, a snarl escaping you. Ordred! “And then I found you… Ullrae…” he can’t seem to say it, though you know what he means: you nearly died.

“I am here,” you whisper, your voice still hoarse from screaming. Beorn makes a wounded noise deep in his throat, his arms tightening around you. Turning forcefully, making him loosen his grip, you move to straddle him, keeping your weight on your knees. Pressing his head against your breast, you place your hand over his other ear so all he will hear is your heartbeat; strong and steady. Beorn’s arms are tight around your back, and you feel tears sliding down your skin, sliding down your own face too. You curl yourself around him, offering comfort the best you can.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he mutters, pressing his lips into the skin above your heart. “Never leave me,” he begs brokenly. It tears your heart apart to hear him sound like that, so far from his usual quiet rumble; his deep voice contorted with pain.

“What… what are you saying, Beorn?” you whisper, pulling on his long mane to get him to look up at your face. Your heart beats wildly, hope taking wing in a flutter of pure love as you stare down into his eyes; the colour of uisge and dark with emotion you don’t dare name. You want to kiss him, kiss away the pain he feels, licking your dry lips as you watch emotion swirl in the amber depths.

“I don’t want to live without you,” he says, stroking your cheek. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch with a soft purr, “I love you, my wild thing, I have always loved you; even when I was too stubborn to see it.” You want to believe him; you do… but you can’t. Your eyes snap open as you draw back, pull away from his large palm.

“What about Berveig?” you whisper, because you know the spectre that stands between you must be acknowledged, but hating that you’ve put sorrow into his gaze for even a moment as you watch the shadow pass across his eyes. “What about your son?” You can see him again, a small ball of dark brown fur looking up at you with blue eyes; you wonder suddenly if your own cub would look like that, if Beorn sired him. You stiffen, pushing the image out of your mind, not wanting to remember the small corpse Azog flung at you when he had had his fun.

“Berveig… I did love her,” he admits, his grip tightening around you when you try to move away. “And I am sad for her fate, the fate of our son… but she never stirred me to half the feeling the thought of losing you has done,” he whispers, pulling you back to him. You can hear the truth, the broken jagged edges of pain bleeding into his voice.

“Why did you never come looking for me?” you ask, leaving his confession hanging in the air between you. If he feels this way… why did he let you go? “It’s been more than nine summers since I last saw you,” you murmur sadly.

“Nine?” he asks, looking surprised. You frown, nodding; it’s been nearly ten, in fact. Beorn chuckles, getting to his feet slowly, keeping hold of you as he helps you find your own feet. “I was stubborn.” You smile; Beorn certainly is that. Your hands rest lightly on his chest, as you look up at him and wait for something to happen, break the tension thrumming between you. You open your mouth to speak, but Beorn continues quietly, “I spent a long time as a bear; enough time that I nearly forgot how to be a man. I was… lost.” You stare at him, abruptly frightened of what might have happened; once a Walker forgets how to Walk, they become the animal, in truth; it is the way of elders seeking death, seeking a natural end to a long life. Your fingers grip him tightly, a cry of fear spilling from your lips; you had not thought he would feel so, not after reading your letter. Beorn hushes you gently, his warm hand running down your back as you press your face into his chest. “My life was nothing but killing orcs and missing you. It is not the life I want,” he whispers, making you look up at him, hopeful but still a little scared. Dipping his head slightly, Beorn brushes a kiss across your nose. You wrinkle it in response, wanting more than that, wanting reassurance. Turning your face back to press into his warm skin, you breathe in the smell of him. “I want you, I want your love, if you’ll give it to me,” you mewl lightly, tilting your head up. Beorn chuckles, rubbing his nose against yours, “One day, I want your cubs, if we can, but if we cannot, I would still rather live my life with you than alone.” You tighten your hold at that, seeing again a small black-and-brown bear cub before your eyes. You’ve never dared hope he would want to… but now you do, and the feeling is nearly overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” you ask, when he presses his lips against yours in the softest of kisses.

“I love you, Ullrae Léonasdottir,” he murmurs, deepening the kiss. “Mate with me, make me yours as much as you are mine.” His hands press you closer, let you feel him press against you, even if he is careful not to use too much force on your still-tender skin. The bruises will take days to heal, even if shifting will help you mend quicker. You’re hungry again, though not only for food.

“My Beorn…!” you growl possessively, winding your fingers through his hair and pulling him back to your mouth, “I love you…mate.” With a joyously wild cry, he steals another kiss from your lips, grinning happily as his hands stroking your skin, relighting a few embers of desire despite your exhaustion. Attacking him with a frenzy of kisses, you still wince when your abused flesh rubs against his hard body. Beorn slows down, stroking lightly across your skin, careful with your bruises. You growl at his self-control, even though part of you knows that you are too weak still for more than a few kisses.

“Come home, ferhþlufe[1],” he murmurs against your lips.

“Have to return,” you reply, knowing you won’t be able to enjoy the new life you see before you if you do not let go of the one you have shared with Athelstan. “Have to say goodbye.” Beorn frowns unhappily, but he nods slowly.

“I’m coming with you,” he growls, shifting once more. You smile. Noting a few new scars in the fur on his face you had not spotted earlier, you trace one with your lips. The bear yips, an amused sound you’ve missed more than you realised. Kissing him once more, you take a step back, suddenly swaying with fatigue; unsure if you’ve yet regained the strength to shift, to move even. Before you, the massive black bear stands, huffing gently at you once, before moving to you and lying down on the leaves beside you.

“I may have overdone it a little, héahlufan[2],” you admit cheekily, and the bear huffs the equivalent of a laugh at the memory of your first hunt. You smile, running your fingers through his shaggy fur. Beorn nudges you lightly, nosing at your side. With a groan and a hiss of soreness, you climb onto his back, surrendering to his strength once more. This is your place, with your bear to keep you safe from the darkness without… and within.

Burying your face against his neck, you breathe deeply, enjoying the smell that is at once wild and home. You can feel the smugness radiating off him as he sets off at a smooth ground-eating pace. You try to stay awake, but you drift off to sleep as the large bear carries you away, moving easily through the forest while you rest.

[1] Heartfelt love

[2] Great love

@life-is-righteous

#beorn #beorn/reader #The Walkers #The Skinchanger Chronicles

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rockpapertoast · 5 years ago

Text

The Point

Mama told me not to swallow the pit of my cherry or else a big ol’ tree would grow right inside my belly. She told me that the deep red color made my lips look like Gran’s and that they were beautiful. I picked up the tiny fruits, one at a time, pulling off the green stems and piling them on the wooden steps. Mama sat in front of me so I watched her do it first. I ripped mine apart, turning my fingers pink and wet. I could see the little pit peeking through right in the middle. I ripped it out with my teeth, gnawing off all the little pieces that stuck to it, and spat it right in front of me as hard as I could. It hurt my mouth. She slowly turned back and looked at me with her big brown eyes and a smile. “Mama gonna getcha!” She growled at me as she squeezed me on either side. She tickled me red juice dribbles.

It was our first full day at The Point and we came in so late that we didn’t have time to get groceries, so cherries were all we had. There was a stick of butter left in the refrigerator, along with some squished old Wonderbread and a can of Krunzhmann’s Smoked Ham. Pop had probably left them.

The Point was my great grandpa’s house when he was a little boy. His family grew up, all together, in this tiny house with one bedroom and one other room that held the furniture and kitchen stuff. No one can stay in the winter anymore because there’s no heat and the snow here gets really cold and deep, so Pop opens it in May for the summer months and me and Mama always come here to work after my school gets done. Mama works. I work more like part- time. The place is full of dust and old pictures- it gave me the creepies when I was little, especially after Dad stopped coming with us. He met a woman named Sherry and they have two girls together now, Shiva and Lillia. They sound like puppy names to me. Shiva would bark more. I see him once a month for strawberry milkshakes and a hug. He knows I like the cherry on top and extra whipped cream, so he gives me his.

I remember Dad telling me stories about the pictures of Pop and his old friends. They are covered in dust and rusted-golden picture frames with warped glass covering the black and white figures. I would sit on his lap at night before bed and he would bump me up and down on his knee, telling me how many places Pops had traveled, how the blueberries that grow here are magic, and how the biggest fish in the entire world lived in the lake right outside. “He looks out for you when you’re out there swimmin’ like a big girl,” he’d say, “you can’t go out past the McDermott’s place or else he’ll come nibble on those toes!” I liked my Dad a whole lot even before the milkshakes.

After we finished our cherries, I sat on the back porch and tried to tie two stems together in my mouth. I always heard that was a sexy type of thing to be able to do, but I could never imagine how someone’s tongue could be capable of such a thing. Mine wasn’t. The back of my throat felt like it was tearing apart and the stems tickled the side of my tongue. Ripples of waves slowly moved towards the shore, just a few feet away from our deck. I could hear my tummy gurgling over the faint sound of the bird clock chirping inside, but I held it tight with both hands. I bet there were a hundred Bluegills out there in the lake just swimming around looking for breakfast, too. I don’t think they can eat cherries, or the pits.

Mama and I left at five after nine to walk to town. The hills seemed much bigger than last summer. They were extra turny and the morning wasn’t fully gone yet so the clouds were stuck all around us, hanging on with all their might. Mama tells me that at night the clouds come in real close to hug us and keep us warm, just like a blanket. I don’t know if I believe her but I like the idea of extra blankets at night. I always get cold.

“What kinda tree is this, Magpie?” Mama asked me as she let go of my hand and walked towards a dark green furry kind a few feet away from the road.

“How in the heck should I know that? It’s a green one, Suza, that’s what kind it is. A fuzzy green one that is not awake yet so he would appreciate it if you’d stop touchin’ him, thank ya very much!” I told her right back. She gets mad when I’m sassy to her but she woke up with big eyes this morning. That’s usually a good sign.

“Miss Magapoo! You little devil, sassin’ your Mama first thing in the mornin’. Should’a left ya in Chapin!” Mama picked off a piece of the green fur tree and brought it back to me, sticking it right up to my nose. It smelled sweet, like most of the air up here.

“Peeyeew!” I shouted at her. She knew I was joking and she laughed right back at me.

“Hemlock, Miss Magpie. He’s got some wide needles, round ends,” Mama said as she bent down next to me, holding up the needles to my face real close, “and if you flip ‘em over, you see he’s got two kinda white lines here.”

“Hemlock. Hemmmlock!” I said, making up a song to help me remember. Mama always asks me about trees and I can’t remember them all. There’s so many up here so I try to make ‘em into songs or memories somehow. Like the Oak- I fell off of it smack dab on my bum when I was four and cried so hard I threw up all over myself. Mama wouldn’t dare let me forget that one. We don’t have the same kinda trees in South Carolina, so it’s hard to keep ‘em separate.

We got to Tawny’s Market and I picked out the pink lemonade. I like the kind that looks like a jar because who doesn’t love the smack sound it makes when you yank off the top? I asked Mama if we could get summer sausage and she said we’d have some at Pop’s later. I always peel off the skin around it, the slimy clear stuff gives me the spooks, but the inside is nice and salty. We checked out and I helped put our food into the totes that Mama had brought with us. We ran into Tawny on our way out. She’s one hard lady to track down on a Saturday morning.

Tawny had long brown hair that came almost all the way down to her butt and was tucked into one fat braid that swished side to side on her back as she walked. She saw us walking towards the bakery and opened her mouth wide, giving us big eyes and spreading out her arms. She jetted towards us full- speed. She smushed me with her fanny pack as she hugged me all kinds of tight and kissed my forehead.

“Welcome back, so glad to see ya, Mags! Come down and visit anytime. We’re makin’ zucchini bread tomorrow if you wanna come help out while your Mama’s at work!” She was always real nice to me every summer and I usually came to visit about once a week when I got bored of Tommy Joe. She and Mama hugged and talked for a few minutes while I sat on the wooden bench right next to the bulletin board full of advertisements for lawn care, dog walkers and babysitters. I never understood who would just pick up somebody’s information at a market like that, but a lot of the flyers had been torn off where the tags stuck out.

I wanted to ask for a jelly doughnut but I knew Mama would say no. Tawny used fresh raspberry jelly that was just the right amount of sweet and tart. Whenever I would disappear for an hour or so and come back home with a bag of sweets before dinner, Mama wouldn’t even get mad that my tummy was already filled up. She liked treats, too. Tawny is TJ’s Mom and one of Mama’s best girls up here. They grill together sometimes and drink cocktails with booze in ‘em when me and TJ play sticks in the woods, or things like that. Tommy Joe is my best friend or something. I guess he’s my best friend when we’re in New London, so for three months of sunshine. It’s the same starting over every year.

Mama has been working at the Toy Museum down the street ever since I can remember. Great Grandpa started collecting old antique cars and gadgets when he was a swinger and he kept ‘em all there. It’s made up of a few big garages jam- packed with old cars, creepy toys with painted faces, and a whole lot of spiderwebs. Uncle Don runs it now, since he lives here full- time, and helps Pop, who can’t do all that much heavy stuff anymore. Uncle Don is Mama’s older brother. His wife died of cancer two summers ago and ever since then, he only smiles with his eyes. He’s got one great big wrinkle that fits right across his forehead when he makes smile- eyes, but that’s all. Aunt Jill died of the same kinda cancer that took my Gran. Something happened to their lady parts. Uncle Don used to have real nice dimples on his cheeks, but they’ve been lost for a long time now. Auntie Jill had been sick ever since I was four, so I don’t remember her without a quilt on her lap and pink hat keeping her smooth little peach-head nice and warm. Her head was darn well near the softest thing I’d ever felt.

TJ’s family lives three driveways down from The Point and his grandparents are friends with Pop. They used to own most of the North parts around the lake and Pop owned the South ones. Mount Kearsarge was the divider, smackdab across from our deck, way up in the distance. You can see the big hump of the mountain behind the clouds if you look at the right time. Our back wooden deck points right at the mountain, like an arrow, and the whole lake sweeps down and gouges into the land on either side of us. It’s like we get the best seats of all and the mountain points right back at us.

After we got home and started unpacking our groceries, Mama said I could go find TJ to play before lunch. I laced up my new white keds that I’d gotten two weeks ago since my last tennis shoes were destroyed in the giant mud pocket that I found near my school three weeks before we’d left. I went into the bathroom and put sunscreen on my face since my nose always turns pink when I don’t wear protection in the sunshine. Tawny told Mama that it was supposed to be hot today, and she always knew the weather here exactly right. I smeared Coppertone right on my cheeks and nose while standing on my tippy toes and looking in the mirror. I could only see a few white and blue stripes of my shirt, since I wasn’t tall enough. This was my favorite shirt, with a stain on the bottom right from a cherry pit that got away.

I grabbed my bike and started pedaling through the gravel to Tommy Joe’s. My face was still kinda sticky so I felt little smacks against my cheeks when I flew through the clouds of gnats. It was wide open around the house before the driveway took me into the woods for a while, leading out to the main road that I took to TJ’s. It had rained a few days ago so the sand- filled gravel was thicker, like gum was stuck to the bottom of my tires. I was out of breath as soon as I turned the corner to TJ’s house.

The difference between the Point and TJ’s house is that they live there all the time, and we only live here for a few months. His house is dark green and about the same size as the Point. It’s just TJ and his Mom so they don’t need much room.

“Hey Tommy Joe! It’s me, I’m back here for ya!” I shouted as I dropped my bike next to his front porch and ran up the steps. The screen door was open and I knocked real hard on the chipped white painted part of the door. “It’s me- Maggie Smith! I’m back here for TJ!” I didn’t hear anything so I walked in and saw TJ on the couch playing some video game. It was beeping and speaking in video game words that I couldn’t much understand.

“You could’ve answered the door,” I said to him.

“Hi Mag. Sorry, I’m finishing this,” He called back at me. His voice was deeper than I remembered and his nose looked bigger. His lips were pink and his skin was the same caramel that I remembered. I felt my chest get tight and roped up, as I stared at him shaking his Nintendo back and forth as he forcefully pressed the keyboard, like someone threw a rock and tickled it at the same time. My mouth got all wet and melted.

“I can come back later, It’s okay” I said to him, turning around and walking out towards the door again.

“No, Maggie Smith, you come back here. Give me five seconds, I just need to finish level four with King Archibald,” he said to me as he ran up to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me back to sit on the couch next to him. He smelled salty and looked kind of sticky. I wondered if he’d put on sunscreen this morning, too.

“That feels nice,” he said to me as I followed my finger along the side of his hair down by his ear.

“Your head got bigger, Tom. How can you be so stupid and still have such a big noggin?”

I looked over his shoulder for a few minutes as his little video game soldier fired away at dragons, crawled up stone walls and eventually found King Archibald.

“Finished!” He said, “Wanna swim to the bank and look for frogs? I haven’t found any yet since it’s been kind of cold here.”

“Sure- I don’t have my swimsuit here, though,” I told him. I usually wear it under my clothes, but I didn’t think we’d be swimming right away. And I don’t like how it feels on my bum when I bike.

“Here- just take this off,” TJ pulled at my shirt, so I slowly peeled it off to reveal my white camisole. It was too big for me, so it hung around. “Are you wearing underwear?”

“Yeah I am, yuck- why wouldn’t I?” I hadn’t worn underwear all day yesterday. It felt nice to have a breeze.

“Come on!” TJ said as he ran out of the living room letting the screen door slam right in my face. I grabbed a green and purple splotchy beach towel that hung on the coat hook and followed behind him, holding it tightly against my chest.

He ran all the way to the dock and started taking off his shirt and his shorts. By the time I’d made it standing next to him he was bare chested. He was wearing whitey tighties that sat right on his hips. I never really knew the difference between boxer briefs and shorts, but apparently there is one. I saw the bulge between his legs and thought about what it would be like to touch it. I never understood how those things just fit all neatly right in there without popping out on accident. Like they just fold up when they’re supposed to. I think TJ saw me staring at him because he started fidgeting. I could feel my face getting hotter and I looked down at the rippling waves.

“Take off your shorts, come on,” He said as he kicked his pile of clothes and walked towards the edge of the dock. TJ dunked his foot into the water, sending a shiver through his body. He looked like he’d been electrocuted from the foot upwards. “Jesus Christ! Come here Mag!” He shouted at me, holding his crotch and pattering on his feet, one at a time like he had to pee really badly.

I unzipped my shorts, tossed them right on top of Tommy Joe’s pile of clothes, and scooted up to grab his hand.

“On the count of three. One, two, three- come on!” Shouted TJ as he fired himself forward, bringing me along into the greenish water. We sprung a few feet from the dock and both came up for air.

“Woooo! This is way too cold!” I yelled, with my lips quivering. I could feel my goosebumps coming out and kicked my feet extra hard in the water.

“Here, I’ll race you to Gull rock, it’ll get us warm!” Gull rock was the big boulder a few hundred feet away that had perfectly carved holes in it for us to climb out of so we could go searching for frogs in the marsh along the shore over there. We had to climb through a pile of rocks if we didn’t take Gull. I started throwing my arms, one after another, turning my head as fast as I could. TJ and I collided and I scratched his leg with my fingernail. “Sorry!” I said, but water was coming in and out of my mouth so fast that I’m not sure he heard a word I said.

When we made it over there, TJ climbed out first, adjusting his boxers so they didn’t collapse on him. He reached down and stuck out his arm to help pull me up. The rock was slimy and my toes scrambled to find the right holes to push myself up on. My face felt hot and the sun toasted us as we bent down, crawling around in thick grass and muck to find creatures. We always found these tiny little green frogs with brown splotches on them and fat double chins.

“Find any?” TJ hollered at me after a few minutes of silence. It was always a competition with us and whoever found the first one usually won, no matter how many more they found after that. My feet were making squaking squish sounds as I suctioned them out of the muck, like I had to fight to get them back even though they were mine.

TJ spurted forward towards a shrub and dove into with his arms in front of him like he was ready to grab something. “Holy Jesus, look at this! Yeeehaaa!” He screamed as he clasped his hands real tight together. “Comere Maggie!”

I teetered my way over to him, trying to keep from falling face first into the mucky grass. “Let’s see ‘em” I said, planting my two feet hard. TJ slowly brought his hands towards my face and moved his thumb down just a tad to show two big eyes and a beating chin. It’s mouth was sort of orange looking and it had two little lines that marked what should’ve been it’s nose, but i’m not too sure frogs have noses anyways. He was a real cute one. I stuck my fingers into TJ’s and touched his slimy back, it was slimy and just the right amount of bumpy.

“Let’s take him back with us. I wanna keep him, look how cute he is- what a nice lil’ guy,” TJ said looking around, “Should we make him a raft or something? Can he swim?”

“He’s a frog, Tom, he can swim better than you!”

“Shut your trap, Maggie Smith, let’s go. Here, you take him.”

I reached out my hands, cupping them just enough to take him without poking at him too much, and walked back to the rock. TJ jumped in first and I slid my way down, skidding my bum on the rock.

The water felt much warmer now. I floated on my back, holding our new friend cupped snug in my hands while I kicked breaststroke. I learned how to do that in swim lessons- I’d been taking them ever since I was about four. TJ was probably swimming fast again but I didn’t mind. I was happy to be back here. The clouds were moving real speedy, and they looked extra puffy. I always wondered if they felt like Marshmallow Creme to touch. That’s how I imagined them.

I kept kicking, looking back every few seconds to make sure I wasn’t going the wrong way or something. I was close to the dock and I saw TJ standing their waiting, his feet dangling along the surface of the water.

“Almost there! Here, take ‘em,” I said to him, turning towards him and coming up straight. I reached my hands up and plopped him into TJ’s, climbing back up the ladder onto the deck next to him. I brushed the droplets of water off my face and shook my hair really fast.

“Maggie. Look.” TJ’s voice turned higher, like the boy I’d known for the past nine years. I looked over into his hand- cage and got mine ready to catch the leaping frog as it came out. He lifted up his hands to show a lump of a frog, no leaps, no beating chin.

“What happened?” I asked TJ

“I think he’s sleeping. He’s just tired from the swim is all, Mag.”

I swallowed hard and felt the sun all the way in my throat. I couldn’t look at it again so I told TJ to put him to bed somewhere else. TJ said okay and ran him back into the woods near his house while I stayed on the dock. He put the frog down by a tree and scattered some leaves on top of him. I sat down on the deck and wondered when he started falling asleep, I couldn’t feel it in my hands or anything. I knew that asleep meant dead, and so did Tommy Joe, but neither of us wanted to say it. TJ came back over and sat down next to me for a few minutes, but neither of us had anything to say.

When I stood up, I wrung the water out of my camisole, sending it dripping out onto the deck. TJ’s face froze and he wiggled his lower lip like he was trying to fight with it.

“Maggie? Are you okay?” TJ asked, looking down at my legs. I looked down, too, and saw a few red dribbles down my leg.

“Is that from the frog?” I asked TJ

“Um, not unless you hurt him”

I knew that Gran and Aunt Jill had died because of problems with their lady insides and I hoped I would never have that stuff.

“I’m dying, Tom,” I said quietly.

“Do you want to take a nap? Maybe you’re tired, too” He said.

TJ brought me out a blanket and a pillow from his bed. We layed on the deck and he traced his finger along my forehead. He was right, it did feel nice. If this was the way that I was going to go, it couldn’t be too bad.

“Tell Mama sorry I couldn’t make it to dinner with Pop tonight. Bring me some summer sausage on Sunday mornings instead of flowers, just make sure to take the outside part off.”

I’m coming, Gran, I’m coming Aunt Jilly, I thought as I closed my eyes tight. I could feel freckles growing on my cheeks and nose from the sun. Maybe i’d start to look like that frog, with splotches and orangey red all over my face.

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