#morton silver

[downthetubes]

Third Bear Press launches submissions for their BOXES comics anthology

Third Bear Press, an indie comics publisher and distributor run by Steven Ingram, are looking for comics and articles for Volume Four of their ongoing comic anthology, BOXES

[wispisstillverybored67]

I'm goin' down to Darkland, gonna have myself a time (Badass faces everywhere! Strongest folks without temptation!) Goin' down to Darkland, gonna leave my woes behind (Experiments run day or night! People shoutin' "Fuck you human!") Headin' on down to Darkland, gonna see if I can't unwind (I like bangin' silly bitches, and I know my weenie likes it!) So come on down to Darkland, and meet some friends of mine!

[whats-in-a-sentence]

In the following decades the metal's engineering possibilities became clearer, but its price remained a problem. Witness the discussion which follows Barbicane's suggestion that it be used to fashion the space capsule in Jules Verne's "From the Earth to the Moon":

"Aluminium?" cried his three colleagues in chorus.

"Unquestionably, my friends. This valuable metal possesses the whiteness of silver, the indestructibility of gold, the tenacity of iron, the fusibility of copper, the lightness of glass. It is easily wrought, is very widely distributed, forming the base of most of the rocks, is three times lighter than iron, and seems to have been created for the express purpose of furnishing us with the material for our projectile."

"But, my dear president," said the major, "is not the cost price of aluminium extremely high?"

"It was so at its first discovery, but it has taken now to nine dollars a pound."

"But still, nine dollars a pound!" replied the major, who was not willing readily to give in; "even that is an enormous price."

"Undoubtedly, my dear major; but not beyond our reach."

"The Moon: A History for the Future" - Oliver Morton

[xtruss]

History of Earth Day & Arbor Day in Parks

First Annual Earth Day Birthday Parade and Celebration in Union Square on April 22, 1970

Earth Day began in 1970 as a way to raise awareness about environmental issues. Gaylord Nelson, a U.S. Senator from Wisconsin, and Denis Hayes, a young environmentalist, joined to organize events across the country and "shake things up." Following that first Earth Day, which was celebrated by 20 million people across the country, President Richard Nixon created the Environmental Protection Agency.

For the first Earth Day on April 22, 1970, thousands participated in various sanctioned events in New York City. Fifth Avenue was closed to traffic from Union Square Park to Central Park, and 14th Street between 3rd and 7th Avenues was transformed into an "Ecological Carnival."

First Annual Earth Day Birthday Parade and Celebration

Union Square Park served as the focus of numerous Earth Day observances and teach-ins throughout the metropolitan region. Over the day, some 100,000 people were estimated to have thronged to the square in one of the largest demonstrations there since the socialist rallies of the 1930s. The empty streets resulted in at least one picnic spread at the intersection of 57th Street and Fifth Avenue, and Mayor John V. Lindsay repeated the idea during the summer of 1970 when he closed Fifth Avenue to traffic for four successive weekends. The City also banned cars for the day in Central Park in Manhattan, Brooklyn's Prospect Park, Forest Park in Queens, and Silver Lake Park in Staten Island.

First Annual Earth Day Birthday Parade and Celebration

Earth Day became a global event in 1990; the event has been celebrated in earnest with tours, events, and volunteer opportunities at parks across the city since 2000. For NYC Parks, Earth Day is a chance to honor our green spaces and how we care for them, and to raise awareness about how we are working to shape a greener future for our city.

Youthful zeal and environmental activism join forces as celebrants hoist a tree at Union Square Park on the first Earth Day, April 22, 1970. Photo by Daniel McPartlin; courtesy of Parks Photo Archive.

Arbor Day Observed in the City

Arbor Day, celebrated on the last Friday in April, dates to 1872 when it is said that over one million trees were planted in Nebraska. Julius Sterling Morton, originally from upstate New York then living in Nebraska, was instrumental in establishing the day. New York State has been celebrating Arbor Day since 1888, and Arbor Day has been celebrated at NYC Parks for years. In 1906, Arbor Day festivities were held in playgrounds, "thereby inculcating a true love for nature," according to the 1906 Annual Report.

Planting Trees for New York City

With the support of Big Bird, Mayor Bloomberg helps plant the first tree of the MillionTreesNYC initiative, October 9, 2007. Photo by Daniel Avila.

Inspired by the million trees planted in Nebraska in 1872, NYC Parks and the New York Restoration Project launched MillionTreesNYC in 2007. The goal of the citywide public-private program was to plant and care for one million new trees across the city. In his support for this tree initiative, Mayor Michael Bloomberg pointed out that trees help clean the air and reduce the pollutants that trigger asthma (an endemic problem in underserved areas of the city) while also cooling streets, sidewalks, and homes on hot days, and increasing property values and encouraging neighborhood revitalization. In 2015, thanks to help from NYRP, additional partners, our many volunteers, and nearly 50,000 New Yorkers who helped plant trees in our parks, on neighborhood streets, and in their own backyards, we planted our millionth tree.

Some 20 million people took part in the first Earth Day protests held across the United States on April 22, 1970. In New York City, the streets near Union Square Park were turned into an "ecological carnival" in one of the largest demonstrations the city had seen in decades. Photograph By Santi Vissalli, Getty

In the last 20 years, Parks has worked to diversify New York City’s street tree species to make our urban forest stronger and more resilient. We currently plant over 200 tree species that are well suited to the urban environment because they’re able to withstand soil compaction, drought, flooding, air pollution, high pH soils, and strong winds. More information can be found on our Approved Species List page, the NYC Street Tree Map, and our 2015 Street Tree Census Report.

[the-fiction-witch]

Mr Crown

Media - Morbius Character - Lucien Crown Couple - Lucien Milo X OC Reader - (OC) Anastasia Morton (Assistant) Rating - flirty + Cute Word Count - 1435

Anastasia made a grand entrance as she sashayed into the opulent mansion. Her every step was marked by the distinct clicking of her black Louboutins against the marble floor. She wore sleek black stockings that complemented her skin-tight black dress, accentuated by a vibrant red belt. Her hair cascaded in carefully arranged curls, framing her face with effortless elegance. Around her neck, a delicate silver necklace shimmered, catching the light as she moved with grace and confidence.

Lucien couldn’t help but smile from his chair as he sat receiving his usual medication from his private doctor. He did have... A rather large crush on her, but surely he couldn't be blamed after all, to Lucien she was gorgeous! Not to mention her shapely body and large... Assets, the kind of chest you dream to squeeze, and a backside you fight the urge to spank. 

She played the crucial role of being his right-hand person, handling all administrative tasks, and managing the various businesses operating under the umbrella of Crown Industries. This company was involved in a wide range of ventures, from producing bottled water to providing private jets, and served as the source of his vast wealth and luxurious lifestyle.

"I hope I'm not disturbing Mr Crown," she said as professional as ever,

"You could never be disturbing, you have the right to disturb me any time of the day." he smiled, "That dress certainly suits you."

"Why thank you, sir," she cooed, "I must say, you're looking strong and handsome today," she cooed,

He chuckled at her praise, he knew he looked far from "strong" and "handsome" being as sick as he was, but he enjoyed the reassurance she gave him daily. A grin came to his face as he teased her in return. "Strong and handsome huh? Well, aren't you just so very charming today,"

She approached his chair and opened her folder, "Shall we?"

He let out a playful groan as she brought up the business, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. Deep down, he wished she would abandon the business talk and join him in a more leisurely pursuit, like sitting on his lap for example? Nevertheless, he nodded in agreement, signalling his willingness to engage in the discussion. As he reclined, he adjusted himself to get comfortable, preparing for a serious conversation ahead.

"The accountant has finally returned my phone calls he is back from his vacation in Figi and the numbers are in, all separate LLCs and company holdings have doubled from last quarter. The factory strike has finished on the east coast with only minor recruits needed. The builders have sent the quote for the upgrades to the downstairs bathroom," She explained, "And ... We seem to be paying for a boat? Don't know when you got a boat and didn't tell me?"

Lucien listened intently, impressed by her efficiency in handling all the business dealings. He chuckled when she mentioned the boat. "A boat? can't say... I remember... buying a boat. Put a pause on that."

"Is it perhaps something to do with Michael?"

"Perceptive as always. Perhaps it is." He had a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice as he continued. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"I like to know where every dollar goes. And his lab has been a large drain lately so perhaps I'll schedule a call with him," she said, "Tomorrow is the gala, Thursday is the opening and next week is the ceremonies so I'll pencil the call in sometime next week,"

Lucien nodded a smirk on his face at her efficiency and attention to detail. He chuckled at her comment about Michael's lab, knowing all too well it was taking a big chunk out of his wallet. "That's my girl, always planning ahead." He cooed, "The call can wait until next week, there's no rush. How many times are we going to end up at galas this month? I've lost count."

"... Sixteen." She answered, "The charity equitable, the Upper Billion club, the grand gallery, the museum, the anniversary which is taking four slots alone. Along with all the business part summer garden events and of course the upper billion clubs gala auction tomorrow,"

His eyebrows raised as she rattled off the list of events and he let out a low whistle, looking at her in surprise. "Sixteen? Well, we're certainly going to be busy these next few months." He chuckled and shook his head, but beneath his amused expression, there was a hint of weariness. "I don't know how you keep up with it all. You must spend your life organizing my social calendar."

"I have plenty of time to organize your time. Mr crown" she answered just she dropped her pen, rolled her eyes and bent over to grab it,

However, she did so in front of Lucien her slightly crooked stocking and the hint of the top of her suspenders,

Lucien's eyes widened and his breath stuttered as he got a glimpse of her backside and the top of her suspenders, his gaze travelling up her figure as she stood back up. He swallowed and cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way her curves were emphasised by the tight dress.

"I... I see what you mean." He said in a slightly strained voice, a small smirk on his face as he tried to focus on the conversation. He slightly adjusts himself in the seat moving his hand a little to try and conceal that he was getting a hard-on from the sight, "I suppose I should just leave all the organizing to you then."

"It's what I do best, ohh I did get a call about tomorrow for the gala, asking to confirm your plus one," she asked,

Lucien chuckled when she asked about the plus one, knowing they went through this every time. He shrugged his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. "As always, you know I never have a date for those things." He looked at her for a second and an idea came to mind, he gave her a playful grin half kidding. "Unless you want to volunteer yourself, that is."

"As delightful as your company would be, I have enough work to do here,"

Lucien chuckled at her response, "Ah, of course, the ever-diligent assistant." He let out a theatrical sigh, "Here I am, the world's richest bachelor, and ... I can't even get a pretty girl to attend a gala with me. A mockery, really."

"Would you want me to?" She asked half teasing,

Lucien's smirk widened having not expected this usually it was only ever mentioned as a joke between them, but his gaze roamed over her figure appreciatively once again. "Now that's a stupid question, of course, I would. You're a beautiful and intelligent woman. What man in his right mind wouldn't want you on his arm?"

"Very well Mr crown. In that case, I'd like to drop off a last-minute holiday request for time off tomorrow morning in order to become adequately beautiful for such an event. And perhaps get use of the company credit card for a dress?"

Lucien chuckled, "Of course. I have no doubt you'll be gorgeous, as always. As for the credit card, consider it yours. Go and buy the most expensive dress you can find. Spare no expense."

"Thank you, sir. Well, be leaving at seven taking the Bentley."

Lucien nodded, a satisfied smirk on his face as he looked up at her, "Excellent. Seven o'clock it is. I'll be sure to be ready and waiting." He gave her a wink, his gaze roaming over her figure once more before settling back on her face.

"If that's all you need me for today Mr Crown?"

Lucien's gaze lingered on her figure for a moment longer, a faint hint of disappointment that she was leaving so soon. But he forced a smile onto his face as he nodded. "Yes, that's all I need for today. You better go and start getting ready for tomorrow." He leaned back in his chair and gave her a playful grin. "And remember spare no expense, the most expensive dress you can find I want you on my arm as the most beautiful woman for miles."

"I have a few ideas," She smiled fixing his hair and stroking her hand down his cheek,

Lucien's breath caught in his throat as she touched his hair and stroked his cheek, his gaze roaming over her face, taking in every feature. He leaned slightly into her touch, savouring the moment before she pulled away.

"Have a good evening, Lucien." She said as she headed out,

"You as well, my dear. Until tomorrow evening."

He watched her leave, his gaze lingering on her retreating figure, a mixture of longing and anticipation for tomorrow's event swirling within him.

[valiantarcher]

Tagged (quite a while back, sorry!) by @novelmonger to make a poll of beloved female characters and see who everyone else likes most - thank you! I went with some potentially lesser-known characters, so we'll see how this goes.

Leaving an open tag for anyone who thinks this looks fun since I'm not sure who did this when it was going around back in the fall.

[darkpeacemusic]

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕪𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤: 𝔽𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤

Jeff the Killer - Jeffrey "Jeff" Alan Dan Woods

Homicidal Liu - Liuis "Liu" Victoria Woods

Sully - Sullivan "Sully" Akira Woods

Randy - Randall "Randy" Allen Warren

Keith - Keith Harvey Davis-Green

Troy - Troy John Green

Ben Drowned - Benjamin "Ben" Scott Lawman

Jane - Jane Todd Richardson-Vaughn

Mary - Mary Annabelle Vaughn

Ticci Toby - Tobias "Toby" Erin Rogers

Masky - Timothy "Tim" Buck Wright

Hoodie - Brian Hunter Thomas

Skully - Jay Gabriel Merrick

Kate the Chaser - Kate Eleanor Milens-Hayes

Charlie - Charles Matheson Jr.

Laughing Jack - Laughing Jack in a Box

Eyeless Jack - Jackson "Jack" Nicky Nyras

Slenderman - Simon (middle and last name unknown) (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Splendorman - Jim (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Trenderman - Beau (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Tenderman - Cedric (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Sally - Sally Maryam Dawn (formerly Williams)

Dr Smiley - Azerael Jesse Smiley

Nurse Ann - Annie "Ann" Lusen Mia

Nina - Nina Selene Hopkins

Candy Pop - Unknown

Candy Cane - Unknown

April Fools - Unknown

Jason the Toymaker - Jason Caleb Meyer

The Puppeteer - Jonathan Cole Blake

Clockwork - Natalie Priscilla Ouellette

Rouge - Heather Bridget Marshall

Wilson - Wilson Liam Marshall (neé Jones)

Zalgo - Z͠a̛'l͘ga̶t҉ot̡h

Queen Blackheart (oc) - Elizabeth Cindy Phillips (name prior to death)

Lazari - Lazari Natalie Swann

Stripes - Eloise Sarah Bellarose (name prior to her death)

Nathan - Nathan Maxwell Lux

Bloody Painter - Helen Delilah Otis

Kagekao - Unknown

Laughing Jill - Laughing Jill in a Box

Sadie - Sadie Marie Bennett

Hobo Heart - Unknown

Cat Hunter - Rodrigo Milo Ortiz

Chris the Revenant - Christine "Chris" Wendy Meyers

X-Virus - Cody Larkin Drake

Dollmaker - Erina Jezebel Kerenzalys

Frankie the Undead - Frankie Hades Asher (his real name prior to his death)

Judge Angels - Dina Angela Clark

Lifeless Lucy - Lucy Ava Jones

Lost Silver - Ethan Kin Fuji (his real name before his death)

Glitchy Red - Red (his real name remains a mystery)

Strangled Red - Steven Garrett Stoughton

Dr. Locklear - Evander Agnar Locklear

Lulu - Lucille "Lulu" Tiffany Greatfeil

Killing Kate - Katherine "Kate" Evelyn Knight

Screaming Dawn (oc) - Dawn Evelyn Woods

Will Grossman - William "Will" Gordon Grossman

Lulling Lauren - Lauren Robyn Ross (neé Evans)

CR - Carl Morton Ross

Emra - Emra Amelia Blake (neé Albridge)

Zero - Alice Marie Jackson

Slendrina - Charlotte (first name prior to death/experimentation)

Lily - Lily May Kennett

Nightmare Ally - Adeline "Ally" Ashley Abendroth

Zachary the Proxy - Zachary Julius Gibson

Oliver - Oliver Gorgon Henderson

Alex Kralie - Alexander "Alex" Joseph Kralie

Amy - Amy Callie Walters

Jessica - Jessica Ellie Locke

Seth - Seth Apollo Reid-Wilson (neé Wilson)

Sarah - Sarah Cassie Reid-Wilson (neé Ried)

Third Base - Richard "Doby" Vincent Doggers

Vailly - Vailly Suki Evans

[theoutcastrogue]

19th century Sheffield bowie knives

A HUNTING KNIFE, JOSEPH RODGERS & SONS CUTLERS TO HER MAJESTY, SHEFFIELD, CIRCA 1860 with tapering blade formed with a spear point, stamped with the maker’s details on one face, and ‘The Hunter’s Companion’ in script, rectangular ricasso struck with star and cross mark, German silver hilt comprising recurved quillons with flattened scrolling terminals, cap pommel (fitted with later copper alloy oval), and spirally-bound fishskin-covered grip, in its leather scabbard with German silver chape and locket, the latter with a belt hook, 23.5 cm blade

A HUNTING KNIFE FOR THE AMERICAN MARKET, MAPPIN & WEBB, SHEFFIELD, CIRCA 1880 with robust blade formed with a clipped-back point with false swage, notched at the forte, stamped ‘Celebrated American Hunting Knife’ in capital letters, ‘Self Defender’ in script on a scroll, rectangular ricasso stamped with the maker’s name and ‘Trustworthy’ on one face of the ricasso and ‘US’ on the other, German silver oval cross-piece and chequered horn scales retained by six rivets, in its German silver mounted leather scabbard with locket and chape each engraved with groups of three lines, and the former with a stud for suspension, 25.3 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, LATE 19TH CENTURY with single-edged blade formed with a pronounced clipped-back point, etched with a Federal eagle and inscriptions on one face including ‘America The Land of Freedom’ and 'The Patriot’s Self Defender’, recessed ricasso stamped ‘Best Quality Rough & Ready’ German silver guard, ferrule and pommel, the latter chased with flowers, and rosewood grip, in its tooled leather scabbard, 19.8 cm blade

A SMALL BOWIE KNIFE, JONATHAN CROOKES, SHEFFIELD, LATE 19TH CENTURY with broad blade formed with a clipped-back point, recessed rectangular ricasso struck with the maker’s name and heart and pistol mark, German silver hilt comprising recurved guard, ferrule and pommel each decorated with scrolling foliage in low relief, and mother-of-pearl grip, in its German silver mounted leather scabbard with belt loop,14.5 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, JONATHAN CROOKES, CIRCA 1880 with straight blade formed with a clipped-back point, slightly recessed rectangular ricasso signed by the maker and with heart and pistol mark, and natural staghorn grips (perhaps an early replacement), 15.3 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, JOSEPH RODGERS & SONS, CUTLERS TO THEIR MAJESTIES, NO. 6 NORFOLK STREET, SHEFFIELD, LAST QUARTER OF THE 19TH CENTURY with broad blade formed with a clipped-back point, struck with the maker’s details and star and cross mark on one face (small areas of light pitting), oval German silver guard, and natural staghorn scales retained by five rivets, in its leather scabbard with large German silver locket and chape, 20.8 cm blade

A DAGGER, MARKED MAZEPPA, PROBABLY SAMUEL HANCOCK & SONS, LATE 19TH CENTURY with broad blade formed with a clipped-back point, recessed ricasso struck with a figure strapped to a horse’s back and ‘Mazeppa’ on one face, German silver hilt cast in low relief, comprising guard and pommel decorated with scrolls, milled copper alloy fillers and hardwood scales, in its tooled and gilt leather scabbard,17.2 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, LINGARD, PEACROFT, SHEFFIELD, PROBABLY 1870 with single-edged blade formed with a clipped-back point and part swaged back-edge, rectangular ricasso stamped ‘Lingards Celebrated Bowie Knife Pea Croft, Sheffield’, German silver hilt comprising two-piece guard and pommel each cast with scrolls and foliage in low relief, brass fillets, staghorn scales, and vacant German silver escutcheon, 21.0 cm blade

AN ARKANSAS BOWIE KNIFE, MORTON & SON, SHEFFIELD, CIRCA 1850-60 with tapering blade of flattened-diamond section, recessed rectangular ricasso struck with the maker’s details (worn, partly illegible), German silver hilt comprising ‘split’ cross-guard and two-piece pommel each decorated with scrolls and foliage in low relief, and a pair of small bone scales retained by two rivets, 22.7 cm blade

A BOWIE KNIFE, WRAGG & SONS, SOLLY ST, MID-19TH CENTURY with broad double-edged blade, recessed ricasso signed in small stamped letters, German silver cross-piece and pommel, the latter cast with an alligator-horse on each face, and horn scales (restorations), in its tooled and gilt leather scabbard with German silver mounts, 30.8 cm blade

tinyurl.com/yr4hd4pr

[jessicafangirl]

Under The Mask

The Phil The Ghoul fic is here. At least chapter one.

OMG the self indulgence continues. This was going to be a one shot but that's not going to happen. Two, possibly three chapters here depending on how much these idiots talk. I love Phil. Phil is a snarky little fucker and he deserves his time to shine. Stevie is the type that never gets to shine and I love her too. Secondo is a whore…this is nothing new.

This ones for all the big girls, the older girls, and the ones who feel like they are invisible to everyone. Stevie just happens to be seen by some really pretty green eyes peering out from a silver mask…a mask that reflects her own image back at her in a whole new light.

You can also read this on AO3. As always, please comment, share, let me know if you hate it. Special Ghoul Phil Chocolates accepted as appreciation.

“Secondo Emeritus is a fucking asshole!” 

This screeching sentence was the first thing to meet Phil’s ears as he walked into the backstage area of the venue for the night’s performance.  The ghoul winced as Chastity’s voice raised in a pitch that would make dogs bark. 

“Hello Chastity,”  Phil’s calm voice was a complete opposite to the lead lighting tech.  He tried not to let his knowledge of how off the mark her given name was make it sound like a joke as he answered her.  “And what did our glorious Papa do this time?” 

Chastity’s brown eyes glared at the ghoul, as though she could melt his mask to his face.  “We spent the entire night last night setting up those fucking lights and today he breezes in…fucking late…and says they won’t work because they make him look too shiny.”  She pointed a broken fingernail towards one of the event posters showing Secondo, “It’s not my fault he’s bald as a dick!”

Phil took a breath and silently cursed the one who had summoned him from Hell so long ago.  Hell had nothing on dealing with humans on a tour for five months.  “I’ll talk to him.  Don’t change anything, alright?” 

Chastity gave him a glare, crossing her arms over her flannel covered tank top that said “Lemmy Lives” on it.  “Fine…but I swear to Satan I will punch that douchebag, Papa or no if he tries to fuck with the lights again.”

Phil closed his eyes, counted to three.  “There will be no need I promise.” 

The tech stomped away, her Doc Martens looking like they were held together by duct tape and a dream.  The ghoul physically slouched.  He did not have the energy for this today.  They had a full morning of press to deal with…when had his job suddenly inherited the lighting department and what felt like the Secondo Complaints department? 

Phil headed over to the catering area and got a cup of coffee.  He needed caffeine for what he was going to be put through.  Phil was good at this job; that’s how this kept happening.  He lifted his mask enough to allow a sip of coffee, wincing when he realized he forgot to add some creamer.

He was the spokes ghoul for The Ghost Project.  The one that went out, and was the kinder, gentler face without a face for the Ministry.  Secondo couldn’t typically be trusted to not be…Secondo.  So Phil was there.  He was also the ghoul in charge of press and public relations.  He was good at organizing things and spinning multiple plates at once.  The knowledge of being over 150 years old while keeping the appearance of a somewhat human male in his late 30s/early 40s…that’s how this kept happening. 

After another sip of coffee Phil felt he might make it through the clusterfuck that was this tour.  If Secondo didn’t get them all burned at the stake or arrested…or both…before this was over.  Or if Chastity decided to set up an “accidental” electrocution which would then mean…a new Papa which he’d have to train.  Phil sighed, his tail which was hidden beneath his jacket and belted up against his back, trying in vain to wag in frustration. 

“Once more unto the breach.”  He mumbled beneath his silver mask and headed into the chaos.

Stephanie Morton double checked her note book as she huddled in the shade of large tent which blessedly had an air conditioner pumping into it.  The press area wasn’t as packed as she expected but it was still early for interviews.  She hoped the rumors about Papa Secondo weren’t true…that being he usually was 30 mins late to even start the press rounds because he’d partied his guts out the nights before. 

Rock stars gonna rock start though.  Good for him…he wasn’t a young guy but then again, she wasn’t a young gal anymore either.  Though from her research he did have a good 10 or 15 years on her.  She brushed her purple highlighted hair back over her ear, the sound of the woman who had seen her walking back to her car a few days before echoing in her head “Aren’t you a little old for clown hair sweetheart?”  She could have been a relative honestly…between the attitude and the faded PTL bumper sticker on her massive Ford LTD.

“Stevie you good?”  Fred, the producer asked her coming to stand next to her, his short-sleeved button up standing out in the sea of black band shirts that surrounded them. 

Stevie gave him a thumbs up.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Just trying not to burst into flames.” 

Fred nodded, glancing down at her plump frame and thinking she wouldn’t be so warm if she’d just lose a bit of weight.  But he couldn’t say things like that anymore…per that pesky settlement from a few years back.  So he turned to look out at the clear day.  “Yeah, it’s toasty.  I think it’s going to hit 85 today.  I don’t know how they perform in this heat.”  His dark eyes squinting.

Stevie glanced at him, trying to tamp down the creeping feeling he always gave her.  She had to play nice though if she wanted to keep her job…such as it was.  She gave him a smile.  “The power of Satan compels them.”  She replied. 

He gave her an odd, forced laugh.  “I’m going to make sure our camera guys are prepped.”   And he headed off.

She’d memorized the questions…she was just being thorough.  She was a fan of Ghost, loved the whole thing…the theatricality, the lore that floated around them, Papa Secondo was an imposing figure, but she could handle it.  She’d handled worse…look at Fred.  Stevie shoved her notebook into her bag, then stood stretching.  She glanced around at a couple of the other reporters, some she recognized.  Graham from Screeching Metal had already told her hello.  Barry from Flaming Pick.  There was Soria with her long pink hair and six foot frame that belonged on a fashion magazine instead covering this for the Boneyard. 

Stevie glanced down at her jeans, Converse sneakers, and faded Plague of the Zombies shirt.  She was wearing a black suit jacket over her shirt for a touch of professionalism…though it wouldn’t matter in the end.  But she tried at least.  Soria was wearing a dress that was more hooks than fabric.  Could you even call that a dress?  She’d look like some strange play dough accident if she even tried to wear something like that.

Well good for her…she had the body for it, and she looked beautiful…like some goth fairy princess.  At least Stevie wouldn’t have to worry about Secondo Emeritus being distracted when she talked with him like Soria would have to deal with. 

Checking her watch Stevie saw she had about twenty minutes before the interview was scheduled.  In Secondo time that might have to be doubled but she decided she had enough time to go get a bottle of water to chug down. 

As she walked over to the snack and drink area they had provided, she thought this might be a bad choice.  Usually if she had an interview like this, she tended to let herself get a bit dehydrated, so no emergency bathroom breaks happened right before the chatting took place.  But it was hot, and she would rather not stroke out as a first impression to the leader of Ghost. 

Stevie noticed a few of the so called “Ghouls” walking around.  They mostly seemed to keep to themselves, sometimes interacting with the crew.  She recognized a few of them from concert footage.  She’d not experienced an actual ritual in person yet…this would be her first.  Sadly Plug and Play, her employers, weren’t helping her out in the ticket department.  She took what she could find that was at least not nosebleed level. 

She found the water bottles wedged into giant coolers filled with ice nearby a table filled with small snack bags.  Said snack bags were currently being raided by two ghouls.  They were bickering over who was going to get the last Doritos apparently.  She grinned, lifting the water bottle to her lips and swigging down a good 1/3rd of it. 

As she watched a shorter ghoul appeared.  While he may not have been as tall as the other two, he apparently was the one in charge.  “What did I tell you two?  All of this is for the reporters.  Satan’s balls…you have an entire convenience store of snacks in the bus.” 

Stevie’s brows rose, unable to keep herself from watching and laughing at the interaction as the head and a half taller ghoul reluctantly put back the prized chips.  The two wandered off, slumping shoulders and then batting at each other like ticked off cats.

The ghoul in charge shook his head and straightened the table somewhat, repeatedly glancing at the Doritos bag.  He then seemed to realize she was there and turned.  Stevie was surprised by the big green eyes with the long lashes peering at her so directly from behind the silver mask.  Even with what her job was to the casual observer, she wasn’t used to being well…seen. 

“Ah, you must be one of the journalists.  Can I offer you something?”  The soft, pleasant voice spoke, slightly muffled by the mask.  It held a bit of an accent, but Stevie couldn’t place it. 

“Oh no thank you, I’m good with just water.”  She gave him a smile and a nod.  “And yes, one of the journalists.”

Phil peered at the woman; a brow raised behind his mask.  He didn’t recognize her from any of the usual videos or magazines that he worked with.  He offered her a gloved hand.  “Phil, head of publicity and press.  And you are?”

Stevie sat her bottle down on a nearby chair, making sure to subtly dry her hand of condensation.  She took his hand, surprised by how cool it felt against her palm, glove and all.  “Stephanie Morton, but you can call me Stevie.  I’m here with Plug and Play.” 

Phil gripped her hand for a moment then released her fingers.  He would have remembered the woman in front of him.  Amethyst highlights in her short, silvery blonde hair, plump frame with denim encased hips that reminded him of some of the art work Secondo was always showing him…some of it not the sort for normal public consumption.  Her smile was nice, kind, and welcoming.  Her eyes were big and grey in color…in fact everything about her seemed pale besides the streaks of purple in her hair and the lipstick she wore that matched the shade of her highlights. 

Yes, he’d have remembered her.  “New to the channel?”  He asked curious. 

Stevie shook her head.  “Oh no, I’ve been with them for a couple of years now.”  She looked a little nervous suddenly.  Deflection was the way to go here.  “By the way…I won’t narc if you take those Doritos.”  She glanced over at the final package on the table.

Phil’s eyes widened behind the mask.  “I…those are for you and the other journalists.”  He glanced away for a moment, realizing he’d been caught. 

She laughed.  “I just realized, you’re the special ghoul, right?”  Stevie remembered him from some of the videos she’d watched now.  It finally clicked.  “You’re all not supposed to have names, but you do.”

Phil sighed.  Ugh, the “special” title.  He made a gesture with his hand as if waving it away.  “It’s rather hard to be the spokesperson for a group and not have a name.  I mean…how do you interview someone that you can’t put a name to?”

Stevie nodded.  “Makes sense.  You do quite a bit of work.” 

The ghoul sighed.  “Somedays it feels like it.  But…that’s part of the job and an honor to help spread the word of the ministry.”  He quickly added, not wanting to be called out complaining.   Even though today was a day he’d like to see if the other side was hiring.

She took another drink of water.  “No, I completely understand that feeling.  And you know…you deserve Doritos…the no narcing is still in effect.” 

Phil narrowed his gaze at her, as though debating on how truthful she was.  Then reached behind him and snagged the bag.  “I’m holding you to that.”  He replied tearing the bag open and shoving a chip under his mask.  If she’d been closer she would have heard the purring in his chest at the first taste.

It was obvious that Phil the Special Ghoul was a junk food junkie, even if she couldn’t hear the purring.  Stevie took another swig of water.  “You know…I wouldn’t be surprised that the communion at a Satanic Mass wasn’t flavored like a Dorito, or…one of those burn your tongue off Taki things.”  She said with a grin.

Phil gave her a look.  “How do you know they aren’t?” 

“Touche.”  She replied.  “I have not had the experience.”

Phil held out the bag to her, glancing down at it and then back up to her gaze.  “I could arrange that if you’d like.”  He rattled the bag a little, voice lowering an octave. 

Stevie raised an eyebrow and hesitated for a second before taking a proffered chip and taking a bite.  “I’ll think about it Special Ghoul.” 

He winced.  “Please…please just Phil.”  He begged her. 

Stevie glanced down at her iWatch and saw she needed to head back to the interview area.  “Time to head back.  Thank you for the drink and naughty snack Phil.”  She tossed the now empty water bottle with perfect aim into the recycle bin.  “Wish me luck with Papa II.  Maybe I’ll see you at the show tonight.”

Phil watched her turn and leave, his thoughts slightly chaotic.  He could have sworn he’d never seen her on any of Plug and Plays videos…and he had a good memory for that sort of thing.  Also, she was coming to the show tonight, so maybe they would cross paths.  The other thing was….Satan’s balls…Secondo.  Phil shoved another chip into his mouth.  Secondo better behave himself.  Phil realized that this was the first time Plug and Play would be interviewing the Papa and women like Stevie was the sort that would make “The Triple B”  (bald, broad, and beautiful)…as he liked to call himself…start humping a table. 

The ghoul finished his snack and decided that yes, he needed to be nearby for this one…just in case. 

Stevie settled into the rickety chair that seemed to be a staple of these interviews with the ease of practice.  She had her notebook beside her just in case but at this point she was pretty confident she had it all down.  She checked her watch and saw the interview time was in a minute. 

Stevie didn’t bother checking her makeup.  There was no point.  So she relaxed and waited for Papa II to show up…or not show up and her wait would be much longer.  She glanced over and saw a silver mask briefly appear above some equipment boxes then vanish, a fast image of green eyes peering out at her.  Then suddenly there were the murmurs of an appearing entourage of chaos.

Secondo Emeritus was dressed immaculately as always.  No papal paints at play, he was the image of an Italian sex stud just getting to the end of his prime but fighting it all the way.  He was wearing a white fedora, a white tailored suit, and black gloves with gold grucifixes that matched the embellishment on his suit jacket.  Under the white suit was a black silk shirt carefully unbuttoned three buttons down to show the salt and pepper chest hair beneath.  His aviator sunglasses hid his dual colored eyes from the light and from anyone trying to see how bloodshot they may or may not be.

Stevie’s eyes widened at the three women in various states of skimpy clothing, ranging from ages from 20 something to 60.  They were all clinging to Secondo in some fashion until he shooed them away with a burst of Italian which they understood but she didn’t.  They pouted but he managed to tell them all “Ti amo, ti amo…I see you in a few moments mi bellas.”

“Where is my spot for this…eh…chat?”  He asked one of the press assistants.  The kid in the headset pointed towards Stevie.  Secondo’s eyebrows immediately rose behind his aviators.  He took off his hat and shoved it into the assistance's arms while he headed over to Stevie who stood up to shake his hand.

“Hello your imminence, I’m…” she started to say but it ended up a squeak as Secondo grasped hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, tickling the skin with his mustache as he kissed her knuckles.

“You are the goddesses Lilith and Hecate in one cara mia.”  He stated smoothly, eyes racking down her body beneath the sunglasses.

From somewhere nearby, even in her state of shock, Stevie swore she heard someone say in exasperation “Satan’s balls…” 

Secondo still had hold of her hand.  “Well, thank you for that but no…my name is Stephanie Morton, I’m happy to talk with you today for Plug and Play.”

“Stephanie…bene…you must call me Secondo for your beauty transcends titles.”  He kissed her knuckles one more time before releasing her hand.

What…the fuck…is happening…Stevie thought as she glanced over to Secondo’s harem who looked like they wanted to murder her.  Fantastic…this is going great.

“Thank you for the honor, Secondo.  If you would please have a seat, we’ll get your microphone in place and we can begin.”  Stevie gestured to his chair and prayed she got through this without one of the ladies trying to strangle her. 

The interview went well actually, and Stevie was happy with the answers she got from the Papa as well as not having her eyes clawed out by one of his unhappy paramours.  A few times she did notice a flash of silver from the corner of her eye or dipping behind an equipment box, but she didn’t put much thought into it.  Ghouls were about, of course. 

Secondo was actually very chatty and appeared to really like talking about himself.  And he seemed surprised with her questions which went beyond the usual fare to something with a little more meat. 

Much like her, he thought while licking his lips.  He did love a curvy figure that gave him something to hold onto.  But the Papa had noticed that fucker Phil hovering about.  Every so often he’d pop up behind where the denim clad goddess was sitting and would give Secondo a glare that said, “No touching you bastard.”  Secondo knew he could only play with the toys he was allowed…but it didn’t mean he couldn’t look.

When it was over Stevie stood and thanked him again and was this time ready for the hand kiss which he lingered over.  His glasses had slipped down a bit and Stevie found herself caught in the green and white Emeritus gaze.  “Grazie mi bella…you have…what is it called…a lovely tongue…no…but si, you do…but a silver tongue…to get me to share all my secrets with you.  If you wish to learn more, I will be happy to share all I have with you…just say the word.” 

Stevie knew she was blushing.  No wonder he had a harem.  Secondo Emeritus was a charmer and a half.  She tried not to twitter like a school girl and just managed it.  “Thank you for the offer, Secondo but I think there’s a group over there that would like you to spill everything to them.”  She glanced pointedly at the women who were staring with intent to maim. 

“My adoring public.  Si, si, grazie again cara.”  He bowed and then snagged his hat from the gaping assistant.  He lifted both his arms and two of the three quickly hooked their own through them, followed by the youngest who still was somehow attached to him, and they strolled away.

Stevie shook her head.  Well…the team were going to have fun following that.  Fred appeared like a phantom suddenly near her.  “Good stuff Stephanie.” 

She nodded.  It was good work.  But now was the part of her job that sucked.  She handed her notebook to Fred.  “He gave good talk.”  She said and handed him her own microphone from the collar of her shirt.  She turned and walked to stand behind a couple of the larger equipment boxes as Katrina appeared as if summoned. 

Katrina, aka Kat.  The face of Plug and Play with her 23-year-old looks, black bangs, and perfectly thin physique.  Kat clad in her black leather pants and Misfits t-shirt tied in a way to show off her teeny-weeny waist.  Nose ring glinting in the sunlight and perfectly made-up eye liner.  That was Kat. 

Kat didn’t really talk to Stevie because that would be awkward considering the arrangement.  But Stevie was curious how Kat was going to play it this time since Secondo was not the typical interview she had.

The younger woman took her seat in Stevie’s vacated spot and Fred attached the mic to her while Kat read over the questions from her notebook…aka her script.  Fred would work with her on anything additional that was needed for the edited interview.  And then as Stevie watched, the team began the 2nd stage of the interview, with Kat playing the role of Stevie as she asked all the questions she had created and pretended to reply to any answer that Secondo would say.  Once it was all recorded, Plug and Play would go back and edit it seamlessly…and no one would be the wiser.  Except Stevie.

Stevie let out a heavy sigh.  This one stung worse than the others for some reason.  Maybe it was because Secondo was a flirty guy and that had been a fun change.  But mostly it was that she’d got him to talk in a way she’d not seen him do before.  She felt some pride in that but now…now it would all be Kat’s exquisite technique and doe eyes blinking from the screen while the Papa discussed his influences with her. 

Kat’s slightly high-pitched voice echoed in her ears, asking one of her questions and Stevie winced, not able to help it.  She had a lot of time to kill before the show that night.  She ran a hand through her hair and went to walk away when a sleekly suited and familiar ghoul came to stand next to her, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.  He was facing the interview area, and his green eyes were nearly slits as they watched what was happening.

“That’s why I didn’t recognize you.”  Phil said, voice low. 

Shit…Stevie didn’t think he’d actually realize what was happening or even care.  No one had yet. “What do you mean?”  She asked nervously.

Phil turned and looked at her, his gaze seemingly peering into her soul.   “They’re cutting you out and editing her in.  Why?” 

Stevie suddenly felt more embarrassment than she had in a while regarding her deal with the channel.  Her skin flushed and god damn it…why did she suddenly have tears forming in her eyes.  Did she really need to explain this to him?  “You’re really asking me that?”  She managed to say, her eyes falling to the ground, brown grass and dirt more tolerable than his silver mask that reflected her face back at her. 

“Yes, because I don’t understand this.”  He replied matter of factly.  He gestured at the team still recording.  “You did a great job dealing with the bald diva.  Why is this necessary?  What’s the reason?”

She couldn’t handle this.  Stevie was suddenly glad she hadn’t eaten more than a Dorito because she felt like she was going to be sick.  She took a breath hoping it would steady her.  Why was she even telling him anything?  Well, he did handle booking interviews for the band, didn’t he?  She had a feeling this was going to get her fired but…he’d seen it happening. 

Phil watched her face flush, saw the tears in her eyes.  For some reason this was making him angry.  He didn’t get angry often but when he did most of the crew, the ghouls, even Secondo knew to avoid him or better yet, just don’t piss off Phil.  But he could sense her discomfort, smell the scents of it in the air along with embarrassment, and…self-loathing…sadness.  It was a scent like faded, brittle pages, dust, salt, and something bitter. 

He felt the need to hug her come over him.  And that truly wasn’t something that happened with Phil very often and never with someone who wasn’t a sibling in the church or another ghoul.  Of course, his interactions outside that circle were few. 

Stevie closed her eyes, she couldn’t look at him, she didn’t want to be seen by anyone then.  But he knew, he’d seen, he was asking.  “Look at me.”  She finally said, voice cracking. 

Phil narrowed his gaze behind the mask.  He was looking.  “What…what am I supposed to be seeing?”  he asked, absolutely confused and getting more angry. 

He was actually serious?  Or was he just thick?  She sighed.  “Look at me then look at Kat.  Who do you think young, nubile viewers are going to want to see?  Especially the males of the species?” 

Phil glanced at the woman currently asking an empty chair a question and having to redo the question because she couldn’t say Papa without flubbing the title and laughing.  His eyes came back to the woman in front of him who had charmed said Papa’s pants off.  “The one who can actually speak and knows the assignment?”

Stevie shook her head and gave a mirthless laugh.  “Oh, if only your average video viewer was a Ghoul I guess.”   She wiped her eyes, managing to catch any tears before they fell.  “No, Special Ghoul Phil.  That’s not the answer they would give, or at least that’s what they think at the channel.”  She glanced into his nearly glowing green eyes through the mask.  “They let me work but this is the price of it.  I don’t get the head shot.  I get paid to do the research, to be the one that’s able to talk to people and get them to chat about things in a way none of the other channels do.  Then the face comes in to make it pretty.” 

Phil felt his blood begin to boil as he realized what she was saying and why.  “What you’re saying…”  He started to speak.

“I’m the Cyrano in this scenario.”  She laughed at her rhyme, but it wasn’t one of humor. 

Phil took a moment to glance back, noticing the way the man named Fred he’d met, had his eyes trained on the ample bust of the woman in the chair, her Misfits T-shirt basically ripped down the center.  He turned back to Stevie.  Stevie with her pale skin, pale eyes, with bits of treasured amethyst upon her lips and hair.  The curvy and plush frame that was hidden under a baggy black t-shirt, but she couldn’t hide the hips that had had Secondo nearly jumping from his chair.  Were human males that idiotic?  Or was it just this fuckwad Fred? 

“This makes no sense to me.  You’re…talented.  You’re…good.  And smart.   You’re…”  He said, his softly accented voice growing more confused.

She cut him off.  “In my 40s and couldn’t fit one of my legs into the entire waist of her jeans.”  She smiled at the ghoul who she truly believed wasn’t joking.  “But I thank you for what you’re saying Phil.  It’s nice to hear.  Maybe the mask is making your eyesight bad but…thank you just the same.”  Stevie grabbed her backpack from where it rested near a crate.  “Thank you for letting me chat up your Papa.”  She turned and headed off.  Stevie was already pulling up an app to see if she could unload the ticket for the night.  She couldn’t face the thought of the concert now.  It was just too much. She just wanted to curl up in her hotel room and lay in bed. 

Phil stood there glued to the spot.  If his tail were free, it would be flicking back and forth like a snake or trying to desperately wrap around the neck of Fred.  He actually liked this woman.  And he didn’t normally like anyone honestly.  Well…at least for a hundred years.  And that hadn’t ended well.  But Stevie intrigued him.  She brought out a protective side of his nature that he only had usually around young ghouls, baby humans, and well that was about it.  Everyone else was on their own until they asked for help. 

But she wouldn’t be asking, he could tell.  Her defense mechanism was making fun of herself before someone else could.  Self-deprecating humor…make the first cut before anyone else and maybe they’d leave you alone.  That wasn’t making his anger any less.  That spoke of years of doing that trick.

She deserved better than this scenario playing out in front of him, in front of the viewers of this network.  If this was a matter of her looks, Satan’s Balls…Secondo was about to hump her leg on camera.  And honestly, Phil wasn’t immune either.  He took more than a little pleasure in making Secondo behave while he talked to her.  No touchy for the Papa…but that didn’t mean Phil couldn’t try.  Yes, he might be rusty, but he was a Ghoul in his prime. 

Wait, was this really what he was after?  Well…yes.  But also…even if she wasn’t into a couple centuries old demon, she deserved better than what she was getting.  Phil made a decision then…he pulled his iPhone from his pocket and called one of the travel booking ghouls.

“Yes, hello, this is…ugh…just Phil please.”  He replied to the brightly cheery voice ghoul.  “I need you to set up a pick up and back stage special.”  

Stevie tossed the half-eaten plate of Panda Express onto the nightstand and sighed.   The concert would be starting in an hour, and she’d actually sold her ticket.  She was both sad and glad at the same time.  She knew Fred and Kat would be there and so would Phil.  She was glad she wouldn’t run into her boss and the talking head.  But she was actually sad not to see the silver mask and forest green eyes of the ghoul again.  She shook her head where it lay on the plush pillow while Forensic Files played in the background. 

He’d been sincere which was…strange…for someone playing the role of a demon, especially one in the world of music.  He’d been kind and funny.  Part of her really wanted to know what he looked like under that mask.  But Stevie doubted she’d run across him again in her travels.  Today had shown her that she might need to rethink what she was willing to give up to be a part of Plug and Play. 

At the thought the sweet Orange Chicken taste in her mouth grew sour.  Stevie didn’t want to deal with this, it was too much on a day already filled with too much.  She wanted to just take a shower and go to sleep now that she’d had some junk food.  She’d think about this in the morning. 

Stevie sat up with a grunt and went to stand when her phone went off.  She almost didn’t answer it, but it was a ring tone she never had set.  Year Zero.  What the fuck?  She picked up the phone, the number displaying just 666.  Okay, was Damien Thorne calling her?  Glancing around her hotel room warily she slid her finger along the answer bar.  “Uh…hello?”  she answered.

“Miss Morton?”  A muffled voice, surprisingly female asked. 

“Yes, that’s me.  Who is this?”  Stevie asked still weirded out.

“I’m a Ghoul Miss Morton.”  The pleasant yet obviously masked voice replied.  “I was directed to call you and let you  know that a car will be picking you up in one hour to bring you to the Ghost Project’s event.”

Stevie’s eyes widened.  “Wait, what?  You must be mistaken; I’m not going to the concert.  I off loaded my ticket.  The Plug and Play crew will be there though so it will be covered.”

The Ghoul paused for a moment and Stevie thought she heard her talking to someone.  The other person’s voice she couldn’t make out, but they sounded very…firm.  When she came back on the line there was no arguing with her.  “Be that as it may Miss Morton, your presence is required, and we will have a car at your hotel in one hour.”

Stevie felt like this was some sort of mistake for sure.  “This can’t be right…I…no one would want or need me there.”

The Ghoul seemed to be getting annoyed and also flabbergasted at this reaction.  “I beg to differ Miss.  You  have been requested to attend and that’s what our job is to make happen.  I would suggest getting ready as you now have 58 mins before the car arrival.”

Stevie looked at her phones clock.  “Uh…okay…I’ll…I’ll be ready.  Thank you.”  She managed to say.

“You are quite welcome Miss.  See you soon.”  The pleasant female Ghoul then hung up.

“Oh my god….”  Stevie yelled and then started a mad dash around her hotel room to find something to wear and to hop into the shower…nearly doing so while holding her clothes in her hand and flinging them onto the counter in the last second.

[iwtvfanevents]

Rewind the Tape —Episode 3

Art of the episode

Just like we did for the pilot and for episode two, we took note of the art shown and mentioned in the third episode while we rewatched it. Did we miss any? Can you help us put a name to the unidentified ones? Do you have any thoughts about how these references could be interpreted?

On the Origin of Species*

Charles Darwin, 1859

* Not exactly art... ...and not exactly confirmed, but given the time, the subject of their conversation, and Lestat's "...this naturalist that fogs your mind" remark, this seems the most likely attribution for the book Louis is reading during the opening scene.

Darktown Strutters' Ball

Shelton Brooks, 1917

The song Antoinette is first singing was published that same year, and you can hear it performed by The Platters here.

Minuet in G

Christian Petzold, circa 1725

As pointed by @cardassiangoodreads in this post, the song Lestat first plays before he starts improvising is Petzold's Minuet in G, often falsely attributed to Johann Sebastian Bach.

Wolverine Blues

Jelly Roll Morton, 1923

While the scene in which Lestat improvises the melody happens in 1917, Morton would go on to record and release the song in Indiana in 1923.

Slave Auction

Jean-Michael Basquiat, 1982

Our very first look at Basquiat's Slave Auction comes in the third episode, though it will be the backdrop of most of the sixth. While some elements, like the crown of thorns, lend themselves to varied interpretations, it's clear this collage shows a boat (golden for money, perhaps) crossing a blue expanse, and the faces of the slaves being transported.

Mother Daughter and Twins 1

Rahmon Olugunna, undated

Rahmon Olugunna, born in Osogbo in 1975, is a member of the Oshogbo school of artists in Nigeria. His work represents Yoruban mythology as well as modern Nigerian life. He is represented by New Orleans curator Katie Koch. [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Untitled ceramic totems

Julie Silvers, undated

Each unique totem is made by New Orleans native Julie Silvers, and they are distributed by New Orleans store Villa Vici. Two can be seen in the sitting room. [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Javelina

Bryan Cunningham, undated

By "Junkyard Alchemist" Bryan Cunningham, who posted about it here. [Found by @iwtvdramacd18.]

In the same shot we can see an unidentified painting, maybe of a man's profile. Perhaps you can place it?

Untitled photo of loading docks in St. Paul, Minnesota

Bradley Olson, 2015 (Alamy Stock Photo)

Forty-two Kids and Cliff Dwellers

George Bellows, 1907 and 1913 respectively

Several Bellows pieces have been featured around Rue Royale already, in episodes one and two. [Identified by @nicodelenfent, here.]

Am I Blue?

Harry Akst and Grant Clarke, 1929 [Identified by @ouizaya.]

The song that Antoinette sings when Jonah first walks into the Azalea is actually an anachronism. Maybe a bit of commentary from Louis, as this post suggests.

Nocturnes, Op. 55: No. 1 in F minor. Andante

Frederic Chopin, 1842-1844

This is the song that plays during Jonah and Louis's escapade to the Bayou.

Roman Bacchanal

Vasily (Wilhelm) Alexandrovich Kotarbiński, 1898

Kotarbiński was a Polish artist and painter of historical and fantastical subjects, and co-founder of the Society of Kyiv Painters. [Identified by @nicodelenfent.]

Weeping Nude

Edvard Munch, 1913

Young Man kneeling before God the Father

Egon Schiele, 1909

Two more artists we've seen already, in episodes one and two.

Self-Portrait

Edvard Munch, 1881-1882

Bouquet in a theater box

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1871

While we have seen Munch's work already, this is the first Renoir featured. He was a French artist and a leading figure in the development of the Impressionist style. [Identified by @nicodelenfent.]

Church in Stein on the Danube

Egon Schiele, 1913 [Identified by @nicodelenfent, here.]

Ship in the Night

James Gale Tyler, c. 1870 [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Tyler was a New York born marine painter, considered a self-taught artist.

If you spot or put a name to any other references, let us know if you'd like us to add them with credit to the post!

This week, we are rewatching and discussing Episode 4, …The Ruthless Pursuit of Blood with All a Child's Demanding. We can't wait to hear your thoughts!

And, if you're just getting caught up, learn all about our group rewatch here ►

[thistleflower-sims]

The Tracettes, 1965.

From left to right: Helen Morton, Tracy Trent, Marcella Neville.

The Tracettes were formed in Los Angeles just after the girls graduated high school and named after frontwoman Tracy, but unfortunately disbanded shortly before what would have been their musical debut due to creative conflict between Helen and Tracy and tensions surrounding Helen's engagement to label executive Simon Silver. Helen, Tracy, and Marcella went on to become a rock band manager, soul icon, and elementary school music teacher, respectively.

[theweirdcobrakaifan]

Shadows of the Past

The sun sank low in the sky over the Cobra Kai dojo, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. The air was thick with tension, punctuated by the sharp clatter of fists against flesh as John Kreese and Morton Silver faced off, sparring with a ferocity born from their conflicting worlds.

John, clad in his black leather jacket and blue jeans, wore determination on his face. He was a scrappy fighter, the kind who had earned every little scar and bruise—the kind of scars you only got from the streets and the war. His brown eyes glared with a mix of rage and hurt, driven by his fierce desire to protect Terry Silver, the man he had loved since their harrowing days in Vietnam.

Across from him, towering in his crisp white button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was Morton Silver. He was a man of privilege, armed with a disdain for John’s humble beginnings. His blue eyes sparkled with condescension as he delivered a series of punishing jabs, frustration boiling over. “You think you can just waltz into Terry’s life and drag him into your pathetic training sessions? Look around, Kreese! He has a future! Dynatox needs him!”

Despite Morton’s overwhelming size and strength, John refused to back down. With each blow he absorbed, he found the strength to fight back harder. Blood from a split lip trickled down his chin, but he wore it like a badge of honor. “Terry deserves to choose his future,Not you, not your company!”

From the sidelines, Terry stood held back by staff members, their black suits contrasting sharply with the colors of the dojo. Sweat glistened on his forehead, blue eyes wide with a mix of concern and admiration for John. “Let me go! I need to stop this!” he shouted, desperation lacing his voice.

Yet, Morton continued to press the fight, his fists connecting with John’s jaw and abdomen. Each punch was more than just physical; they were strikes at John’s past, at his identity, at his worthiness. “You think you’re good enough for him? This is what he should be focusing on! Not some nonsense about karate and Vietnam!”

“Enough!” Terry shouted desperately , breaking free from an assistant’s grip. He rushed forward, but Milos, the family’s ever-watchful butler, restrained him gently but firmly. “Master Terry, you must calm down,” Milos coaxed, his voice steady.

With a newfound resolve, John deflected Morton’s next hit and landed a solid punch squarely on Morton’s jaw. The older man's head snapped back, shock flashing across his face. John stepped forward, wiping the blood from his mouth with a grin. “I’ve seen worse in a pit of snakes. This is nothing.”

Gritting his teeth, Morton braced himself but was faltering now. The tides had turned, fate seemed to favor the underdog for once. “You’re nothing but a distraction, Kreese!” he hissed, but his bravado was fading.

John squared his shoulders, breathing heavily. “You don’t know a thing about us. About our bond! Terry is not just some pawn in your game; he’s my partner!”

As Morton lost his balance and fell to the ground, John’s eyes shifted to Terry. The younger man was now only a few feet away, leaning against Milos for support as he wiped clean the blood smeared across his nose. “Are you okay?” Terry asked, his voice laced with concern, genuine care breaking through the veneer of protection his parents had built around him.

John chuckled lightly, the adrenaline still surging through him. “I’ve had worse,” he replied, looking at Terry with a mixed expression of love and resilience.

Terry moved forward, brushing aside Milos's gentle grip. He looked down at John with pride and admiration. “Let’s get out of here.”

“But what about your parents?” John asked, still breathless from the confrontation.

“They can’t decide my future. I’m done with their plans for me,” Terry declared, words heavy with resolve. “I want to be with you, johnny. I want to fight for my own life, not the one they’ve designed.”

Smirking, John took a step closer, a flood of warmth washing over him. “Then let’s show them what we can do together.”

As Terry embraced him, a new sense of hope blossomed between them—a fierce love that could withstand the darkness of manipulation and the scars of the past. The looming figures of Morton and Myra, shadows of expectation, faded behind them, leaving only the vibrant promise of their futures at the forefront.

Tonight, their love had triumphed amidst the chaos. And together, they would face whatever came next, refusing to be defined by the chains of family legacy or societal expectations. They were warriors, in every sense of the word.

[the-wild-rose-withers]

Fandoms, Favorites, & Liked Characters

❧ Genshin Impact

FAVORITES

♡ Xiao ♡ Baizhu ♡ Cyno ♡ Neuvillette ♡ Freminet ♡ Pantalone ♡

LIKE

♡ Diluc ♡ Venti ♡ Albedo ♡ Noelle ♡ Razor ♡ Zhongli ♡ Shenhe ♡ Xianyun ♡ Raiden Shogun ♡ Kamisato Ayato ♡ Tighnari ♡ The Wanderer ♡ Furina ♡ Kinich ♡ Arleccino ♡ Il Capitano ♡ Il Dottore ♡ Dainsleif ♡

❧ Guilty Gear

FAVORITES

♡ Testament ♡ Romeo F. Neumann ♡ Asuka R. Kreutz ♡

LIKE

♡ Happy Chaos ♡ Zato-1 ♡ Slayer ♡ A.B.A. ♡ Venom ♡ Raven ♡

❧ Identity V

FAVORITES

♡ Helena Adams ♡ Ganji Gupta ♡ Joker ♡ Frederick Kreiburg ♡ Florian Brand ♡ Richard Sterling ♡ Joseph Desaulniers ♡ Alva Lorenz ♡

LIKE

♡ Emily Dyer ♡ Naib Subedar ♡ Vera Nair ♡ Eli Clark ♡ Aesop Carl ♡ Murro Morton ♡ Victor Grantz ♡ Andrew Kreiss ♡ Luca Balsa ♡ Emil ♡ Ada Mesmer ♡ Luchino Diruse ♡ Matthias Czernin ♡ Jack ♡ Michiko ♡ Hastur ♡ Xie Bi'an ♡ Fan Wujiu ♡ Yidhra ♡ Antonio ♡ The Will Brothers ♡ Phillipe ♡ Ithaqua ♡

❧ Pokémon

FAVORITES

♡ Wallace ♡ Cyrus ♡ Ghetsis ♡ Piers ♡ Brassius ♡

LIKE

♡ Red ♡ Blue ♡ Koga ♡ Giovanni ♡ Lance ♡ Morty ♡ Clair ♡ Will ♡ Archer ♡ Proton ♡ Winona ♡ Steven Stone ♡ Archie ♡ Maxie ♡ Volkner ♡ Flint ♡ Lucian ♡ Cilan ♡ Chili ♡ Cress ♡ Burgh ♡ Brycen ♡ Grimsley ♡ N ♡ Siebold ♡ Milo ♡ Kabu ♡ Gordie ♡ Larry ♡ Grusha ♡ Rika ♡

❧ Twisted Wonderland

FAVORITES

♡ Rook Hunt ♡ Dire Crowley ♡ Divus Crewel ♡

LIKE

♡ Trey Clover ♡ Azul Ashengrotto ♡ Jade Leech ♡ Floyd Leech ♡ Jamil Viper ♡ Vil Schoenheit ♡ Silver ♡ Che'nya ♡ Rollo Flamme ♡ Neige Leblanche ♡

[rasslegram]

VALE 2024

Jackie Crockett, Virgil, Francisco Ciatso, Yutaka Yoshie, Butcher Vachon, Ole Anderson, Anthony Gaines, Chris Markoff, Pequeño Dragón, Asahi, Peter Flowers, Ian Muir, Dario Romero, Edmund Jones, Peggy Gilbert, Silver Cat, John Burke...

Rey Destroller, James Staublen, Pompin, Kamaleon Negro, Chicho De Catanzaro, Ferrarito, La Hormiga Atomica, Akebono, Ice Train, Jim Casey, Freddy Adams, Mervyn McKee, Jermaine Robinson, George Wilhelm, Big Mac, Bad Bones...

Bob Bruggers, Silento Rodriguez, Billy Reil, Rainbow Brown, Tony Jones, Scott Cornish, El Signo, Santana Starks, Jonathan Morton, Dave Sims, Reggie Rage, X-Boy, Scott Henson, Willy Estrada, James Castle, Jamie Kellner, Horror, Tequilita...

Sordomudo Rodriguez, Wild Samoan Sika, Gunter Zapf, Bill Custers, Vaquero Jr, Pequeño Nitro, Chase Pearce, Leo Burke, Pete Sanchez, Vladimir Petrov, Beauregarde, Mark Gordy, Bulldog Dan Hansen, Al Zinck, Loco Valentino, Horror, Louis Tillet...

Kevin Sullivan, Wild Samoan Afa, Fritz Von Goering, Rey Komodo, Villano V, Donn Wingate, Pete Reeves, Vince Austin, Jersey Joe Walchik, Joey Nuggs, Kuniaki Kobayashi, Micah Taylor, Pete Rose, Charlie Laird, Tauro, Asesino Negro...

Sid Vicious, Liger Rivera, Martin N, Tito Senza, Al DeRusha, Roger Baker, Roy Calavera, Brian Maxine, Darling Dagmar, Miss Peaches (Starr), Jonathan Sayers, Gail "Sheena" Stirling, Scott L. Schwartz, CC Star, Joe Koff, Mighty Inoue...

Sonny King, Rickey Rowland, Dennis Brent, Bulldog Villegas, Hot Rod Biggs, Barry Douglas, Eyan Brisco, Al Rojo Vivo, Billy Blue River, Ernest "Frenchy" Rheault, Tommy Savoldi, Rey Misterio Sr, Jax Dane, Karloff LaGarde Jr, Coloso Colosetti, Steve Estes, Sweet Daddy Siki and Jimmy Carter.

[the-fiction-witch]

Mr Crown P2

Media - Morbius Character - Lucien Crown Couple - Lucien Milo X OC Reader - (OC) Anastasia Morton (Assistant) Rating - Sexy Af Word Count - 2106

The day passed slowly for Lucien, waking up and having his medication doing a few small tasks here and there, his excitement for the gala building gradually as the hours ticked by. He spent the afternoon in a flurry of prep for the event, his mind occasionally wandering to thoughts of Anastasia and wondering what she would look like all dolled up for the event.

He made sure to freshen up and dress in his most expensive black suit and red silk shirt, eagerly awaiting her arrival at seven.

As he had his second to last medicine for the evening, he tried a few times to get his tie right but it just wouldn't work, in the end, his butler did it even if he didn't do it quite right either, 

Lucien looked in the mirror, assessing his appearance. The suit hung off his now slender frame, emphasizing his weakened state. He took a deep breath, feeling a pang of frustration at having to rely on a cane, but he knew he had no other choice. He turned to the butler standing behind him, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Is this the best you can do with my tie?"

"My apologies Mr Crown," The man nodded, 

He let out a heavy sigh. "No matter. It'll have to suffice for now. Where is she anyway? She should have arrived by now."

"In the garage waiting, sir."

Lucien raised an eyebrow. His curiosity piqued, and he gave one last glance at himself in the mirror before making his way to the garage and towards where Anastasia was waiting. He hobbled down using his cane to make his way down to the garage filled with his many luxury cars, and he stopped short at the sight, the black Bentley sat freshly cleaned and polished practically sparkling, and in front of it stood Anastasia,

She wore strap red designer heels, her hair up Glamour's curls, her make-up impeccable, silver necklace of roses around her neck with a matching bracelet, a silver and rose handbag over her shoulder and her dress… Her gown was a floor length off shoulder silk dress with a high slit that looked as if it had been made to measure to accentuate every single Inch of her a matching red to his own shirt,

"I am acceptable Mr crown?"

Lucien's mouth went dry as he laid eyes on her. The sight of her in the stunning red dress, coupled with her flawless makeup and hair, left him speechless. He stood there for a moment, taking in her appearance, his gaze roaming over her curves and the way the dress seemed to hug her body in all the right places. "Acceptable? No, no, my dear." He paused, his voice slightly hoarse, his eyes unable to look away from her. "You are downright sensational." He took a few steps closer, his cane clicking against the floor, his eyes drinking in her figure. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to run his hands over the silky fabric, to feel her body beneath it. But restraint won out, and instead, he stopped just a few feet away from her, his gaze locked on her face and then roaming down until he was shamelessly admiring her body. His tone held a hint of approval and desire as he spoke again. "You look like a dream, Anastasia."

"Thank you," she smiled, "As strong as always but extra handsome today," she complimented him, "Come here" She immediately took his tie off and fixed it herself,

Lucien chuckled softly as she fixed his tie, Her proximity to him brought her scent to his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her rose perfume and the closeness of her body. As she adjusted his tie, he couldn't help but appreciate her attentiveness. "Always making me presentable, are you? I'd be lost without you to fix my tie."

"I think without me, you'd have invested far more in clip ones," she chuckled, 

He chuckled in response, knowing damn well her words were true. He knew he was hopeless with ties. "You're probably right. I'd be spending a fortune on clip ones."

"Shall we?" She asked glancing at the Bentley's back door,

"Of course. Lead the way, my dear."

She opened the back door and helped him inside before climbing in herself and shutting the door behind them, she nodded to the driver who started the Bentley and began to drive as soon as they were outside Lucien’s garages the driver rolled up the partition, 

Lucien settled into the back seat, as the partition went up, shutting them off from the driver, a strange sense of intimacy enveloped them in the back seat. The world outside was forgotten as they were alone together in the luxury of the Bentley, the hum of the engine surrounding them. He glanced over at her, taking in her beauty once again. He couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity in comparison to her elegance. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a sigh escaping his lips.

she noticed his hand and gave his hair a slight adjustment making his thinning from his sickness less noticeable, 

Lucien's breath caught in his throat as she adjusted his hair, a flutter of vulnerability running through him as she touched him so gently. It served as a stark reminder of his illness, the reason for his weakened state. He looked into her eyes, his expression carrying a mixture of gratitude and insecurity. He was grateful for her presence, her support, but at the same time, he felt ashamed of his weakness and how she must see him, he didn’t want her to see him like that, like this.

She coughed breaking the silence moving from his eyes, "so, which side did you want me on?"

Lucien blinked, snapping out of his thoughts at her question. He considered it for a moment, his gaze roaming over her figure, his mind warring with itself. A part of him wanted to have her seated next to him so he could be closer to her, feel her warmth beside him. But at the same time, he was hesitant, thinking of how it would look, him with a stunning young woman on his arm while he looked weak and ill. After a moment, he let out a soft sigh. "Next to me."

She rolled her eyes a little playfully "Yes Lucien, however it's not a very good look for press or fellow business people to see us climb out the car a debate what arm I need to hold. I don't want to cause you any more trouble," she said glancing to his cane, "So whatever makes it easier,"

Lucien chuckled softly at her playful eye roll. She had a point. He didn't want to seem even weaker than he already appeared. He sighed, his hand involuntarily gripping the cane tighter. "You're right, as always. It would look quite strange to see us debating over what arm you should hold." He grumbled slightly, a hint of irritation in his voice at the idea of his illness being on display. But then he looked at her, her beauty offering some consolation. “My right, hand without my cane.” 

“Perfect,” she agreed,

"You’ll sit next to me?"

"My seat is next to yours at the gala I'll be next to you."

Lucien nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. It was a suitable compromise he supposed. The thought of having her by his side the whole evening offered him some comfort. "Good. I want you nearby. I'm certain you'll be the most gorgeous one there, anyway… Thank you, for coming with me."

"not a problem, a gala is a gala, a business can be done anytime, the most important thing is looking after you," she smiled briefly resting her hand on his,

A soft, almost imperceptible shiver ran through Lucien's body as she rested her hand on his. It was such a gentle, yet powerful gesture. He appreciated her concern for him, and her desire to take care of him. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse, his hand subconsciously turning to intertwine his fingers with hers. "But you also mustn't neglect your well-being. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight as well."

"I'll do my best, try not to be so... Business."

Lucien chuckled at her comment, amused at her suggestion. "Me? Not be so business? That's a rather tall order, my dear." He gave her hand a slight squeeze, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "But I'll try to remember how to socialize without discussing stocks and investment portfolios. You have my word." He chuckled again, the sound weak but genuine.

She chuckled as she glanced out the blacked-out windows seeing they were almost there lining up for the drop off as all galas are, about ten minutes before they'd be greeted by guests and press so it was final checks,

Lucien fussed over his appearance, ensuring his tie was straight and his hair was presentable. He adjusted his suit, trying to hide his weakness, the way his once muscular frame had diminished. 

Anastasia noticed his fussing as she always did, she did feel a bit of pity knowing how much he hated how his illness made him appear to people, she wanted to cheer him up, and help him go to this gala feeling confident and happy. And she had a wicked little idea. 

He turned to her, but then his gaze caught hers as she smiled at him in a rather wicked way. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "And what might you be smiling at so mischievously, Miss Morton?"

She softly took his hand again, leaning a little closer to him.

Lucien looked down at her hand wrapping around his, her touch gentle. He felt a mixture of comfort and vulnerability at the intimate contact. He laced his fingers with hers, his grip slightly weak but firm nonetheless. He looked into her eyes, a soft, vulnerable expression on his face. "You have a devilish glint in your gaze, my dear. I feel like you're up to no good."

She didn't answer she just shrugged and simply closed the gap and let her lips meet his, 

Lucien's breath hitched as she closed the gap between them and their lips met. The moment her lips touched his, a surge of desire and need coursed through him. He responded to the kiss immediately, his hand on hers trembling slightly as he leaned into the kiss, deepening it. 

She kissed back resting her hand on his jaw and bringing him closer as the kiss became heavier,

He broke the kiss momentarily, his breathing ragged and heavy, his forehead resting against hers. "Anastasia..." he murmured her name, his voice thick with need. But he quickly returned to her lips letting his tongue slip into her mouth which she happily encouraged, 

She moved his hand intertwined with hers and let him touch her silk dress running up her waist and pressing his hand onto the top of her dress his hand cupping her breast through the silk, 

Lucien's breath caught in his throat as she guided his hand, He pressed his hand against the silk, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin beneath, the contrast between the smoothness of the material and the contour of her body fueling his desire further. "Anastasia..." he murmured her name, his voice a little rougher than before, He let out a soft moan, his hand on her dress shifting slightly, pulling her closer to him. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the taste of her lips on his, the feel of her body against him, and the fire that burned deep within his core.

Lucien was lost in the kiss, his mind and body consumed by her. He had to fight back the primal urge to pull her onto his lap and have her right then and there. Instead, he let his hands explore her body, keeping the one she guided on her breast fondling and squeezing her as they kissed, the other running up her through the slit in her dress slipping under the dress to touch the warm skin of her thighs.

They kissed rather heavily in the back seat for what felt like hours, touching each other through their clothes and moaning against each other’s lips, 

Finally she pulled away and gave his forehead a kiss, "Have fun tonight Lucien. And if you need my help, you ask for it." she reminds him just as the door opened and she climbed out into the galas red carpet,

He took a moment to regain his mind before he shook himself straight grabbing his cane and climbing out too, 

[unholly-reader]

Missus Duke - Hamish Duke x fem!reader

A/N:

Welcome lovely people, here comes another piece about our favorite werewolf acolyte! Hope you enjoy <3

As always, bear in mind English is not my first language.

This one is a bit longer so be warned! Lots of emotional crap and fluffy bits with a teeny, tiny hint at some freaky action.

************************************************************************

Walking inside the den Beatrice wasn’t sure what to expect. The sole fact that her fiancé was a werewolf baffled her as to how he could have kept this a secret from her but then again she has been doing the same thing in regard to her being a member of the Order. Still, the trust they have established over the years they’ve been together began to falter as she entered the old house, where the Knights established their lair. She’s been there before, but briefly and still unaware of the werewolf company she has kept for the past few years. Entering the building now was more of a venture into the unknown rather than visiting an old friend. Righty of the bat she heard Randall and Lilith frantically discussing something but at first she wasn’t able to make out the exact words. Only when she entered the living room still unnoticed, she registered three words that made her freeze in place. 

- Hamish got hurt. 

Suddenly nothing else mattered as she quickly approached the two Knights, immediately grabbing their attention. 

- What do you mean “Hamish got hurt”? What happened? Was he attacked? 

Both Lilith and Randall turned around in a blink of an eye, the girl still holding her phone on speaker with Jack’s name clearly visible on the screen. The pair standing before seemingly lost their ability to speak and unsurprisingly the person to reply to her question was none other than mister Morton. 

-  Is that Beatrice? What are you doing there?

- Apparently saving the day. You take care of your things, I got this covered. 

Before he could even answer, Beatrice hung up on him, focusing on the two standing in front of her, still unsure how to react. 

- Bea, what do you mean? And what are you doing here? Hamish is not here so… - started Randall but didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence as Beatrice interrupted him midsentence. 

- Cut the bullshit, Randall. I know you’re werewolves and I know Hamish is one too. I need to know what happened to him and where he is now?

Although Randall was utterly shocked hearing Bea’s words, Lilith was quicker to shoot back as she stood tall, raising her head a bit to look properly at the taller woman. 

- And how do you know about werewolves anyway, Beatrice? I don’t think they teach about lycanthropy in law school. 

As she realised there was no hiding the truth now, she rubbed her temple and gripped her hips staring the black-haired girl down. 

- You really are smarter than you look, miss Bathory. As you’re clearly implying, yes – I am a member of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose, but right now that doesn’t matter. I need to know where Hamish is and how badly he got hurt. 

Lilith’s eyes glowed silver as her fangs revealed themselves. That was Timber acting up only fuelled by his champion’s hatred for the entire Order. 

- You don’t belong here. Your place is back with the Order, all of you psychotic lunatics. You want to know how he got hurt? One of your idiot disciples stabbed him in broad daylight. In human form. 

Before Beatrice could truly understand Lilith’s words, the doors opened wide and through then entered the universities mascot stumbling badly on its legs. The Timber Wolf took off its head and revealed a hurting Hamish beneath. 

-  A little help here? 

Immediately Lilith calmed down and all three of them rushed to Hamish. Bea was the first one to get to him, quickly grabbing his arm and swinging it over her shoulders. Randall came to his other side, mimicking Beatrice’ actions.

- Did you ditch them? – asked Lilith, leading her friend inside.

- For now. 

Hamish stared at the both of them and then took a second look as he realised the person holding his right arm was his fiancée who had no reason to be in the den. Most definitely she should not have seen him like that. 

- Bea? 

The brunette didn’t acknowledge his question as she and Randall led the hurt man to the couch where they gently laid him down. 

- Where did they get you? – asked Randall as he and Lilith both helped their leader out of the upper part of the wolf costume, while Beatrice stood back staring at the blood covering her fiancé’s shirt. 

They could have killed him.

- Right here – said Hamish, gasping out while lifting his shirt over his right side and revealing a nasty stab wound infested with greenish foam oozing out of the cut. Once the odour hit Lilith and Randall, they immediately felt heir breakfast coming back up their throats. 

- Jesus, this smells even worse than it looks – exclaimed Lilith, hiding her nose in her arm similarly to Randall who already presented with a gag reflex. 

- It’s like if vomit and sulphur had a baby – added Randall, covering his mouth with his hand. 

Beatrice quickly regained her focus as she concentrated on the still bleeding wound gaping in Hamish’s side. Carelessly she pushed Lilith away, taking her place next to the blonde and quietly examining the cut. The girl growled at the older woman, but she didn’t pay any attention to the protesting werewolf as she rolled up the sleeves of her dark green jacket and looked up to meet her lover’s stare. 

- It’s okay. I’ve got you now – whispered Beatrice gently with a hint of apology in her voice.

Bea reached inside her university bag and grabbed her engraved knife with confidence subsequently slicing her hand open. Hamish was baffled observing his fiancée’s every movement, too stunned and in too much pain to utter a single word. Bea carefully placed her uninjured palm over his wound and brought the bleeding one to her mouth as she muttered the correct incantation. 

- Restituattur. 

Suddenly, Hamish felt the pain disappear and all that was left of it was a nasty memory and blood covering his skin. He looked down at his side and there was no signs of his injury. Beatrice quietly retreated, standing up while throwing her knife back in her bag. All three Knights marvelled over her work as Randall poked at Hamish’s skin in the exact place where the stab wound gaped just seconds before. 

- Okay, but seriously, this is some cool shit, Trixie – said Randall amused and astounded at the same time, turning his head to Beatrice, who was wrapping the cut on her palm with some tissue she found in the pockets of her jacket. 

- Not all magic is bad, Randall. Sometimes it’s really helpful. 

Hamish looked up at her as he stood on his own two feet, still clad in the pants and boot sof the Timber Wolves mascot. There were so many thoughts running through his mind, but the one reoccurring over and over again was the lie. 

She lied to me.

He was painfully aware that those skills did not come to the members of the Order with ease so it was only logical to assume she’s been a practitioner for a longer period of time, which meant she has been lying to him for years. There were now words that came to him at that moment except what he actually wanted to say despite her deception. 

- You saved my life – he stated simply, staring at her without as much as a blink.

Beatrice felt the guilt running through her veins, still trying to remember he lied to her just as much, but the guilt trip was about something other than keeping their societies a secret for all those years. Her disciples attacked the love of her life. If she wasn’t there, Hamish might not have made it out alive. The sheer thought of losing him was the most terrifying thing she’s felt in a very long time. She gulped quietly, squeezing her still bleeding hand never taking her eyes off of Hamish’s blue orbs staring at her shamefully. 

- I couldn’t let you die – said Beatrice like it was the purest truth in the world. 

Silence fell over the room as the two Knights witnessing this unusual lover’s quarrel stood quietly waiting for the grand finale. That is until Lilith decided that her rage was more demanding than she could manage and so Timber took over the reins, growling at the intruder. 

- Yet it was your idiot wizard who almost killed him. 

- You have no idea what you’re talking about Lilith, so I suggest you stay out of this. 

- Why don’t I give you a taste of your own medicine, you bitch.

What happened next was an insane chain of events, one following the other and all in the matter of thirty seconds. Lilith launched herself at Beatrice who was completely defenceless without her knife as she watched the werewolf girl jump at her. Those few seconds when Hamish watched Lilith attack his fiancé felt like hours when he battled between his integrity and his love for Beatrice. There wasn’t much time to waste on logical thinking or reasons why he should do this or that, but in the end the heart won. Swiftly as the lightning hits the ground Hamish ran ahead, jumping in front of Beatrice and throwing Lilith into the couch he occupied just seconds before. His eyes glowed like silver strikes as he growled viciously at his wolf sister standing before Bea like a human shield. She barely noticed his actions as she awaited the impact but when she saw his back in front of her and his arms spread out in a protective manner a part of her felt some sort of relief. He was still her Hamish. 

- That’s enough, Lilith. Stand down. 

His voice was powerful and strong. He sounded like a leader should. Calm and collected but still firm. Beatrice peeked over his shoulders and saw Lilith slowly rising from the couch, eyes still shining with silver. The girl was clearly fuming with anger but the hide inside her heard his command and obeyed.

- She’s one of them Hamish. How can you defend her?

- She’s my fiancée. She has just saved my life. We have bigger concerns on our hands. We must deal with Kyle and his little death squad first. 

Bea furrowed her eyebrows shocked to hear Kyle’s name mentioned as the one leading the attack. 

- That moron? 

***

After Midnight returned to his locker following Kyle’s unfortunate death at the hands of Gabrielle Dupres, the Knights returned to the Den for the traditional après-kill drink. Hamish sipped on the red liquor swimming in his glass as his thoughts kept running back to his fiancée. Now that he knew the whole truth about Beatrice Stone a war has started between his heart and mind, both equally convincing and both screaming in his head. Even as they toasted their victory, he was clearly someplace else and his loss in thought did not go unnoticed by his comrades. 

- You okay, Hambone? – asked Randall. 

Hamish raised his eyes to the brown-haired boy nodding his head silently. Lilith glanced at Randall knowingly as they simultaneously grabbed one of his arms and slowly dragged him upstairs. Once they reached the couch the sat the man down, took the drink out of his hand despite his loud protest. 

- Excuse you, I need that glass. 

- You need to spill, Hamish. You’ve been staring into nothing like Grinch on Christmas Day – explained Randall, crossing his arms over his torso – Now talk, mister. 

- There is nothing to talk about, Randall. Now give me that drink – denied Hamish, reaching out for the crystal glass in his friend’s hand.

- Don’t bullshit us – intervened Lilith, taking the glass in her own hands and putting it back on the bar before turning to face him again – You were stabbed, almost died, found out your fiancée is a member of the Order and all of that in the span of what, two hours? 

- Wow, thank you for summing up this fiasco in one sentence. That really helps – said Hamish, huffing. 

- We just want to help you – replied strongly Randall, sitting next to his leader – We both know how much you love her. You literally talk about her every single day. What was it you said the other day after those negronis? “Bea is the butter to my bread, the breath to my life”. This is still the same woman, Hamish. 

- Yes, but this one has been lying to me for the better part of our relationship. Hell, she may have been lying to me from the very beginning. I’m not sure if I really know her or is it just the pretty picture she sold me over the years. Is her name really Beatrice? Does she really like cats better than dogs? Does she really like my drinks?

- Hold your horses there, my friend – said Randall calmly, patting his arm gently – We met her too. She was real. She is real. I think she may have even liked me. What I know for sure is that she loves you.  

Hamish turned his head to face Randall, suddenly so grateful for his goofy demeanour and never-ending positive attitude. 

- I really hope you’re right, dude. Because I know I am in love with her. I can’t even try to hate her, which is kind of frustrating. 

- You should go talk to her. 

This time it was Lilith still looking down at the heartbroken man. Hamish furrowed his eyebrows as he shot her a glance of surprise. 

- Weren’t you the one who tried to rip her throat out just today?

The black-haired girl shook her, rolling her eyes back. 

- I am still not a fan of the witch and her magic buddies, but she came through for you. She saved you and you didn’t hesitate to jump to her rescue. It’s clear as day you mean to each enough to look past your mistakes. 

Apparently, Lilith’s speech was all that Hamish needed to get up and run out without a second thought. He grabbed his phone and car keys on the way and quickly left the Den, leaving his two comrades grinning like idiots. 

- We should start a couple’s therapy clinic, cause we’re damn good at this shit – exclaimed Randall, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp.

***

The ride to their apartment in Norwich felt agonizingly slow as he drove past the red lights and other cars, impatient to get to the building. Upon arrival he didn’t even bother with parking his black BMW properly, instead just carelessly left the car in the middle of the private parking place and ran out to the door. As usual he was greeted with a polite “good evening, Mr Duke” but he was too busy running to the elevator to acknowledge the kind security guard. The elevator seemed to be taking forever to get down so instead he chose to sprint seven storeys up to get to their shared apartment, praying Beatrice was there. Without thinking twice, he pushed the door open and entered the dimly lit flat. 

- Beatrice? Are you here? 

The living room connected with the kitchen and the mini bar they had installed for his alcoholic beverage’s construction was quite dark except for two dim lamps on the underside of the kitchen cupboards, but the main source of light was their bedroom. It was also the room from which Hamish clearly heard hangers ruffling in the closet. Quickly he made his way to the bedroom and found Beatrice fishing out her clothes from the closet and chucking them inside the giant suitcase which laid open on the neatly made bed. Hamish felt a pin in his heart, seeing his fiancée moving out of their apartment and out of his life. 

- Bea, stop it – said Hamish firmly, grabbing the woman’s attention. 

Beatrice turned around with two hangers in her hands, tear stains covering her cheeks. She froze in place as she gripped the hangers in her palms. On one of them hung the satin red dress she wore to the dinner, when he proposed to her just a few months prior. Just seeing the dress brought a wave of memories to the both of them. Hamish looked into her glassy blue eyes, unsure of his own words and actions, but certain of his feelings. 

- I still remember how you took my breath away when I first saw you in that dress. I swore I could marry you right there and then.

His voice was just above whisper, but she heard him clearly. She swallowed her tears, feeling a corner of her mouth rise involuntarily. 

- I had to pinch your arm because you stood still like a deer in headlights – chuckled Beatrice, remembering the day as if they just lived it. 

Hamish smiled fondly at the memory, never taking his eyes of her blue orbs glossy with new coming tears. 

- I was certain you were the woman I would call mine for the rest of my life. 

- I knew you were the love of my life. 

Silence fell on the two lovers as they stared at each other unsure what comes next. They both lied to the person they love most. They both did it to protect the other. Was it reason enough to accept living a lie for four years?

- You can’t leave, Bea. I won’t let you – stated Hamish, slowly approaching his fiancée. 

- Hamish, I lied to you – said Beatrice with a shaky voice – I have been lying to you from the beginning. I have been doing the Order’s bidding, my sister’s bidding and now Coventry’s. I could basically become the new Temple Magus in Washington if I didn’t refuse it because I couldn’t leave you. I am so deep inside the Order sometimes the only thing keeping me sane in my life is you. I am a pathological liar, Hamish. 

- I lied too. I have been a Knight for the past eight years. I’ve led the Knights for the past six years. I’ve attacked and defended and did some thing I’m not proud either, even if I believe in the cause we serve. 

- Your pack literally hates my guts.

- The Order is hunting werewolves down. 

- I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because the Order, Hamish. 

- I can’t imagine my life without you, Beatrice. 

The honesty in his tone was almost murderous. She felt his words crawling down her skin as she tried with all her will not to fall apart and into his arms the second he touched her. When he finally did place his hands on the hangers and took them out of her palms, she seemed to have lost her balance for a second. Carefully he placed her dresses back in the closet, brushing against her arm only to return to his previous spot standing before her and looking into her eyes. Beatrice tilted her head up as he was a bit taller, barely standing his intense gaze. 

- The Order is your enemy. Werewolves and practitioners are enemies.  

- Are you my enemy?

Beatrice sucked in her next breath as she felt his hand reach for her own gently intertwining their fingers. She couldn’t look away as if his gaze was a magnetic force and she couldn’t overpower it. With his free hand he slowly reached to her cheek wiping away the fresh tear that fell down her eyelashes. Her whole body was trembling beneath his touch just like she always did when he was this close. His scent was driving her crazy, muting her senses and blinding the reason she always followed. It was only after a few moments of undisturbed silence that she spoke up, giving up all her will power to the love she knew was stronger than anything she has ever witnessed in her life. 

- You own my heart and my soul, Hamish. I could never knowingly stand against you. 

Beatrice barely got to finish her sentence before Hamish crashed their lips together, habitually wrapping his arms tightly around her form and pushing her flush against him. An uncontrollable moan escaped her mouth as she melted right into his embrace, entangling her fingers in his silky hair. They were used to messy kisses, those filled with lust and passion and always ending in their bed or other less comfortable places in their apartment, but this was different. The urgency in their movement, hungry lips learning each other like it was the first time, greedy hands trailing invisible paths down their bodies. The act itself felt less like a physical form of dealing with the recent events, but like the final stage of accepting who they are as individuals and who they become as one body, one mind and one soul. When breath came to call they broke apart, but never left each other’s embrace, resting their foreheads against one another. Both were breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down at an astounding pace but all that didn’t matter when they knew they had each other despite everything that happened and will happen in the future. 

Hamish could hear Bea’s heart beating like a hummingbird locked in a golden cage. He felt the way she shifted in his arms, trying to get even closer than she already was. Suddenly everything was back to normal. She was his, he was hers. The Order didn’t matter. The Knights didn’t matter. In the silence they exchanged wordless vows promising to protect the love they found in the chaos of their lives. Truth was simple and in plain sight. There was no life for Hamish without Beatrice and there was no life for Beatrice without Hamish. Not even their allegiance to enemy societies could tear them apart. 

- We’re going to figure it out. I don’t know how or how long it will take but there’s one thing I am certain about. You are my life, Bea. I don’t care what anybody else says, you’re the one thing I can’t live my life without. 

Beatrice looked up, catching his longing gaze with her teary eyes. She could see all that he didn’t say but felt within. All the love, the adoration, the promise of life by her side. 

- And I can’t live without you. I can’t breathe without you. To hell with the Order, to hell with Coventry. If I have you, nothing else matters. I love you, Hamish. More than anything. More than life. 

The blonde man gently squeezed her sides, bringing her impossibly close as he pecked her lips quickly, but fiercely. He had this bewildered look on his face as if suddenly he swallowed all the energy in the world and was just ready to release it all back like a supernova. 

- You have no idea how happy I am that you said that. But all things aside, your magic? That was incredible! I can’t even wrap my head around it. You must teach me sometimes. 

Beatrice laughed out gleefully, wrapping her arms tightly around Hamish’s neck, gently nudging his nose with her own. 

- A Knight of Saint Christopher’s willingly asking to be taught magic? Dear God, a true miracle. 

Hamish smiled wildly, staring lovingly at the woman in his arms. All the emotions he felt flying through his mind, he could barely register them all. The happiness, the hope, the overwhelming joy, the relief all flooded him at once, buy unlike before he felt more at peace than ever. Instead of a hurricane he was standing in the soft rain in the middle of summer. Gently he released Beatrice from his grip, turning towards the bed, where the half-filled suitcase laid wide open. Without a word he reached for the clothes already inside and started unpacking it. 

- Since you’re not going anywhere, I believe these belong back in the closet. 

- But only if I am the one to put them away – agreed Beatrice, taking the clothes from her fiancé’s hands – If you start putting my clothes back in, I will never be able to find anything again, so move aside, Mister Duke. 

- If you say so, Missus Duke – replied Hamish cheekily, relinquishing his grip on the hangers. 

Beatrice turned rapidly to face him, almost dropping the dress she was hanging back in the closet. She raised her eyebrows at him bewildered by the name. 

- What did you say?

- If you say so, Missus Duke. 

The sheer tone of his voice, so sultry and alluring made her weak at the knees. Trying to shake off the effect he clearly had on her, Bea turned back to hang the dress she was holding, when she heard the suitcase gently hit the floor beside the bed. The next thing she knew Hamish had his arms around her middle, standing right behind her with his chest lightly touching her back. Every place his fingers touched her body felt like electricity running over her skin as he gently slid his palms beneath the white flowy shirt she was wearing, running invisible traces over her stomach and ribs. He felt her shaking under his hands and smiled wickedly, proud of how she reacted to his even smallest actions. 

- I don’t see a wedding ring in my left hand yet, Mister Duke – whispered Beatrice, leaning into Hamish as his hands roamed freely over her skin. 

- A small technical issue I will see to first thing tomorrow – purred Hamish, tracing her neckline with his nose – But right now we have more pressing matters to attend to. 

***

Beatrice heaved heavily as she laid her head over Hamish’s bare chest regaining her breath after the last few hours they spent in their bedroom. 

- Now I understand why you never got tired. Werewolf durability.

Hamish laughed heartily, wrapping hir arms around her body and kissing her temple gently. 

- Darling, believe me. The werewolf part is just a small particle of my endurance. Mostly it’s the fact that my future wife is the sexiest woman on planet Earth, and I can’t control myself around her. 

Bea raised her eyes, looking up at a very smug looking Hamish grinning like an idiot. She propped herself on her elbow, resting her free hand flat on his chest. 

- Say it again. 

- What?

Beatrice shook her head quickly pecking his lips. 

- You know what. 

Suddenly his gaze softened as he expertly tucked a rouge whisp of her chocolate hair behind her ear. For a moment he remained silenced as he admired her flushed cheeks and sparkling blue irises looking back at him with so much love and adoration he could burst. Gently, he cupped her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb never breaking eye contact. 

-  My future wife.