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[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Two strangers, not strangers

Only lacking the knowing

So willing, feeling

Infinite growing

While we're here, the whole world is turning

We should be, one, fulfilling the yearning

You can see inside me, will you come inside me

Do you wanna ride, inside my love"

Trina Broussard— "Inside my Love"

A.N.: Content Warning. Smut ahead. Grown folks only. 18+.

Celeste's left hand jerked out wildly to flip on the light switch inside her home. The cottage lit up with a bright pink glow from her vintage stained-glass Tiffany lamps. Her legs were still wrapped around Terry's hips. She climbed down his tree-trunk body and stepped aside, letting him swagger past the threshold of her home. A black baby grand piano that belonged to a deceased aunt had bags of feathers, beads, unfinished patches, and sequins strewn all across it, making the front of the place look messy and disheveled.

"I'll just move these into the other room where they belong," she said.

Terry looked past her into the living room. A smirk crinkled his lips. Celeste looked over her shoulder.

"Oh my, God. I'm so sorry that you see that…give me a second…"

She hurried past him to pick up the ten-inch dildo left in the middle of the floor with the camera set up.

"I know this looks weird…shit…shit…" she sputtered, frantically pulling up the dildo that released with a loud suction pop from the wooden floor. She gathered up the bottle of lube, pillows and dumped them into her sewing room.

Terry took a seat on the recliner end of her purple leather sectional that took up most of the space in the living room right after the baby grand. He watched her pick up the pillows and a sheet, tossing them into her bedroom. She walked back out with her hands on top of her head, embarrassed beyond measure.

"That looked bad…I know."

"Well, you're single now. Looks like you planned a fun night for yourself," he said.

The playfulness of his voice relaxed her, and she pointed toward her kitchen.

"I'll make us those hot drinks," she said, grabbing his bag of leftover food and scampering off.

"Take your time," he called out.

Celeste put his food in the fridge and pulled out a container of half and half. She rested her hands on the kitchen sink and closed her eyes. The shame! She browbeat her own self for not straightening out the living room before she left. Of course, she hadn't planned on inviting him over. Time to save face.

She poured water into a stainless steel percolator and opened a tin of chicory coffee from Café Du Monde, then poured a measured scoop into the coffee filter. After it started bubbling, she grabbed two coffee mugs from her cupboard and prepared their drinks with half and half and a couple of sugar cubes.

"Get it together…pretend the dildo never happened," she whispered to herself before carrying the mugs out into the living room.

She set their coffee down on two coasters and sat demurely next to him. Her locs flowed over her shoulders, giving her a regal appearance.

"Your home is very eclectic…feels cozy too," he said, surveying her taste in vibrant, colorful decorations.

She filled her walls with Mardi Gras feathers and personal beadwork that she mounted on frames, along with pictures of mid-century carnival second lines and jazz funerals. There were whimsical art nouveau pieces from specialty shops around town she purchased of stain-glassed butterflies and Black fairies. French doors that led to the small courtyard out back stayed hidden behind saffron double-laced drapes that her grandmother made for her.

She jumped up and dimmed the setting on the lamp lights. Her purse sat on top of the baby grand. She checked the front door lock to make sure it was secure.

"Your phone kept buzzing in your purse," he said.

He'd lifted his coffee mug and puckered his lips to blow the hot steam away from the drink. Celeste rummaged through her purse and pulled out her cell. Mercy and Nae Nae had both responded to the group text she sent out. She ran her fingertip across the keypad, letting them know he was in her home having coffee. Three green chat bubbles danced on the screen as Mercy typed back something.

YOU BROUGHT THAT MAN HOME WITH YOU?!

Celeste glanced at Terry who sipped his drink and surveyed the surroundings like it was a museum installation. Her artsy style always impressed visitors, especially with the limited space a cottage afforded her. She typed a quick message back.

I'LL LET Y'ALL KNOW HOW THINGS GO IN CASE I NEED THE CAVALRY!

Celeste carried her silenced phone back to the couch and placed it on a side table. She joined Terry and savored the coffee after a pleasant outing.

"This is very good. A nice way to end the evening with you," he said.

She fretted in her seat, wondering how to salvage the poor impression she made on him. He reached over and stroked her arm.

"Are you still thinking about the sex toy on the floor?"

Celeste's head slumped forward, and he laughed again, the rich baritone filling up her home and taking the tension out of her shoulders. Those emerald eyes worked their magic again like they did in the restaurant, driving her to spill out her life in intimate ways she'd never do with anyone else on a first date.

"I can explain—"

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

She tucked a thick loc behind one ear and left his side for a second and retrieved the plantation pictures from her refrigerator.

Handing them to Terry, she sat next to him again.

"One day I want to buy a home like these. I've been saving money and working two jobs for the last two years. On top of my sewing and hustling extra money, I ventured into online fetish content. I have pretty feet, so…I created a website on a BDSM platform to sell explicit pictures and videos. I filmed my first video tonight…right before you called me out for dinner."

"Okay…is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need a director?"

Celeste cackled and threw a hand over her mouth, and Terry grinned, looking at her legs. He lifted her left foot and tugged at her modest heel.

"I want to see these pretty feet men are paying to see," he teased.

She brushed at his hand, but he already pulled the heel off. He gently massaged her toes through the thigh-high, sheer black stockings and his touch shot ticklish sparks up her leg.

"You stand on your feet all day…working hard to achieve your dream. I'd never judge you for doing something that helps you do that. I think it's sexy. You do have attractive feet, by the way…"

He stared at her foot as he kept kneading out the day through his fingers and she leaned back in the sectional to give him more room to work. She even kicked off the other shoe, and he worked on that tired foot, too.

"You deserve the world, Celeste Profitt," he said.

He kissed each toe of her left foot and inched his soft lips to her ankle and further along her leg until he stopped above the kneecap, just at the junction where the stocking and her uncovered skin met.

"Is this okay?" he asked, waiting for permission to continue.

"Yesss," she hissed, bewitched by those eyes that transformed into something dangerous…predatory.

Was this how the devil tricked Eve inside the Garden of Eden? Not by ripe red apples or promises of wisdom, but jade jewels for eyes that blazed with seduction. His lids nearly closed to mere slits, and the blood in her veins chilled at how viper-like he looked arched across her leg.

The cautious voice of Celeste's cousin rattled in her ear with his warning from the night on Bourbon Street.

"Uh uh…no ma'am. Leave that one alone."

Dangerous.

Sinful.

Unholy.

Her eyes blurred. She looked at Terry as if she'd plunged under water and the liquid distorted her vision. His canine teeth seemed sharper than she remembered them being. He slid his tongue across them and she blinked, thinking the pink lighting in her home played tricks on her.

"Terry…"

He slithered his lips onto her lower inner thigh and pushed her dress up to her hips, revealing her thong underwear. Licking her thigh, the moisture from his tongue soaked through the stocking. Celeste stayed still, afraid to break the spell he had over her.

"May I keep going?" he asked.

"Please," she said, with a quiver in her voice.

He gave the crotch of her thong a delicate kiss with his plush lips, moving higher until the tip of his tongue twirled around her clit. The friction from the thong combined with the pressure of his tongue on her sensitive jewel arched her back high. She palmed his head with both hands, hoping to tether herself. Her vulva swelled with juicy arousal and her inner labia puffed with engorgement. He hooked a finger and slid her thong aside.

"Here is the real meal," he hummed, pushing his mouth into her vulva.

His tongue traced invisible sigils of circular shapes and Celeste watched her pussy slicken his mouth until it glistened with her wetness. He slathered her labia with saliva and dragged his wide, hot tongue along her inner thigh. She yelped when she felt a nip from his teeth on her flesh and then a sharp numbness flooded that area, removing the sting of pain.

He licked her vulva again before feasting on her clit, sucking it with a dexterous mouth that never stopped tasting, teasing, and licking every inch of her pussy.

"You taste so good…the blood…your pussy…so good…" he hummed into her flesh.

Her skin aflame, Celeste let all the exquisite sensations flow through her body. She needed this. Needed this man. Needed his mouth. His tongue. His rough teeth…

Another quick stinging sensation pricked her thigh again, and Terry took his time sucking on that spot and fingering her clit. He plucked at the responsive bud.

"Terry!" she cried out, unable to endure the pleasure of his mouth on her thigh and his fingers playing a symphony on her clit at the same time.

The palm of his huge hand pushed her back down and held her in place.

"Do. Not. Move."

The stern tone forced her into submission. She wanted to obey. Badly. His tongue and lips became savage instruments on her pussy. He pushed her legs back, and she held them for him while he ripped her thong into shreds yanking them off. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling as she noticed the feeling of intoxication taking over her body. It was like being high on exceptional weed or rolling on high-grade ecstasy. Their shadows mingled above her, performing their own sexual dance separate from them.

Terry rose above her, and she could clearly see the heavy erection bulging through his pants. She whimpered at the sight. His shit was big. Gold help her. He lowered his face and kissed her, the taste of her pussy and chicory coffee delicious in her own mouth. She licked her wetness from his lips and he held still to enjoy her tongue's affectionate ministrations.

He maneuvered himself comfortably in the recliner and tugged on her dress.

"Take this off for me," he said. "I want to feel you against me."

Celeste stood and pulled her dress over her head. It tangled in her hair and she fussed with the long locs until she became free, standing before him in her bra and stockings.

"It should be illegal for you to be this sexy," he said, his eyes lifting up and down her shapely physique like an elevator.

He zeroed in on her vulva and licked his lips again.

Celeste unhooked her bra from the back and let it slip down to the floor. Her breasts looked tantalizing in the pink lighting. Terry palmed their fullness and pushed them together. He gently pinched both nipples until they stood like dark cinnamon hard candies. Delectable and sugary sweet.

He engulfed the left nipple and sucked on it, causing it to grow stiffer and more sensitive. She moaned and tilted her head back. The pleasure of his licking and sucking increased her lust for him. She stroked the waves in his hair and he pushed his face between her breasts. Her fullness pleased him because he groaned and spoke her name into her chest, the warm air from his mouth arousing her to a fever pitch. Her pussy throbbed, and he continued sucking and fondling until her legs quaked. She thought she would faint in his arms.

"Beautiful breasts, heavy the way I like them…should I cum on them now, or later?" he asked.

"Later," she said with a breathy moan, wanting to keep him there longer to stretch out her pleasure.

He turned her around and stood. Pushing her locs aside, he kissed the back of her neck and trailed a methodical line down her spine with his tongue, waking up every nerve ending on her back. She whimpered and allowed herself to stay focused on every part of her body that he catered to, like he was priming her for something extraordinary.

He sat on the sectional again and kissed each of her ass cheeks. Afterward, he struck each one with a fully open palm.

"The recoil is crazy," he said.

She turned to face him and lowered her lips for another languid kiss, pleased that every part of her body excited him. Her locs shrouded him in a curtain of thick coiling ropes, reminding her of Medusa trapping an unsuspecting victim who stumbled into her lair. His tranquil eyes stopped her from making contact with his lips. They stared at her in wonder, and she recognized a kindred spirit within them. Yes, there in the center of his pupils, reflected back to her, was a yearning for something more in the world. A longing for another soul to banish the loneliness with true companionship. He was the only legacy of his family, a widower with just an elderly grandmother to care for. Her eyes welled up, and he brushed away her tears with his thumb.

"Why are you crying, beautiful Celeste?"

"I want what you want."

He wrenched his eyes away.

"And what do you think I want?" he asked.

"Someone for yourself. Just like me. When was the last time you had anyone in your life…for a relationship?"

His eyes snapped shut, and he tilted his neck.

"Long enough that I don't care to remember."

"But you want that, right? A chance to have someone of your own again?"

An inner struggle flashed behind those emerald eyes.

"Maybe this was a mistake. I should leave before this goes any further," he said.

"Please…don't leave. I like you and I want you here with me."

He stroked her cheek and pushed his fingers into her locs, tangling them until his hand became lost in the thick forest of hair.

"I like you too…you sweet, sexy…vulnerable woman."

"Vulnerable?"

She rose, and he didn't let go of her hair.

"Your heart is so open…so wide open…and pure. People sense that, and you attract them like a beacon of light in a shadowy world. You can't even see what a safe harbor you are for others. It's why you have so many friends and why so many people gravitate to you…want to be near you."

"Except for people I want to be with," she said, thinking of all the boyfriends she pinned her hopes on over the last five years.

"The one made for you just hasn't arrived yet. You must be patient. Steadfast."

"Maybe you're the one for me."

He pressed the side of his face against her breasts and rested there. She rubbed his hair and hummed a soft, made-up tune until he stood abruptly.

"Terry…don't…don't go," she pleaded.

Her tone kept him from stepping further from her grasp. She threw her arms around his waist and refused to let him go. He circled his arms around her shoulders and they stayed in that position for a long time, listening to each other breathe. Her heart beat out an anxious rhythm and she couldn't stop trembling, fearful he would still walk out on her. He gave her peace. Pleasure. A hope for something better.

"I want you to stay."

Those words must've been the magic key to get him functioning again. Lowering his lips, he kissed her, and his arms instinctively relaxed around her, as if they were always meant to be there.

She pulled away and held both his hands, leading him to her bedroom. Feeling confident in her choice for the night, she lit the large gold votive candles on both of her low, bed-side tables to create a romantic ambiance. She thanked Jesus that she made her bed up after breakfast that morning. The room was in less disarray than the living room. Without trepidation, she unbuttoned his dress shirt and gasped when she revealed the gift that was his chest. The chiseled abdominal V lines looked unreal and she glanced at his eyes to show him how much she appreciated the effort he made to keep his body tight.

Terry slowly pulled off his shirted and kicked off his shoes while Celeste unfastened his leather belt. The thin gold buckle had an intricate square design, and as she unzipped his slacks, he grabbed the back of her neck and smashed his lips against hers, sealing the deal in her bedroom. His tongue snaked into her mouth with such force that she gasped for breath, putting a pause on further actions until she could touch his clothing without her fingers shaking.

A corner of her mind buzzed with a subtle warning, but the rest of her brain worked on autopilot. She might never see this man again, but she was going to enjoy him for as long as he was in her presence. He slipped his pants and underwear down, wiggling his legs free. She helped slide his black dress socks off and willingly dropped to her knees as he gripped his dick and stroked it.

In the candlelight, the girth and length went beyond what she imagined, and the color was also a darker shade with the engorgement of blood. His balls hung like fat, round fruit with a thick, dark brown seam down the middle. His erection had a slightly upward curve and the wide head showed a slit already dripping with pre-cum. Her clit twitched at the sight and she moaned when her pussy throbbed deep within her walls. She touched her vulva and the glossy natural lubrication there caused Terry's nostrils to flair. He sniffed the air and his eyes latched onto hers.

"You want me?" he asked.

"I do."

"Show me."

Celeste gripped the weight of his dick in her hand. Hot, thick, and ready, the veins crossing the sides pulsed and the entire thing felt alive. He thrust the head inside her eager mouth, stuffing it so full of hard dick that she choked on it, gagging until she pulled it out to adjust her ability to handle all of it. He grasped a few of her locs by the root and held her head steady, pushing his erection down her throat again. The gawking sounds she created with his face fucking seemed so shameless in her bedroom. Saliva dripped down her chin and dropped onto her breasts and he pinched one of her nipples to keep her focused on deep-throating him.

She pushed a hand against his stomach to control the depth, and that didn't stop him from fucking her mouth into submission. This is what she wanted. She held her hands against his rock-hard thighs and worked her neck to the best of her abilities. He threw his head back to bark out her name in a heated rush of sound and fury. She took that tiny respite to lick her tongue across the veins on his dick and lifted it so she could tend to his balls. Licking down the seam, she opened her mouth wide to suck on each sack, paying close attention to how sensitive he was between his legs. He accepted her skillful licks on the underside of his dick as she worked her way back to the bulbous tip. She let it sit on her lips and stared up at him.

He reached for her waist before he released any cum, his breath full of heavy pants and moans barely articulating her name clearly. Terry lifted her up, and she locked her legs around his hips again. He crawled onto the bed, carrying her with his dick wedged between her slick folds that spread against his length.

Their shadows mirrored their movement as he dropped her onto the firm mattress, covered in a fluffy orange and pink blanket. Celeste kept her hands draped around his neck. Their lips joined, and they shared slow, deep kisses that had her mouth watering like a river and her pussy constantly throbbing, yearning to be stretched and filled. He reached down to her clit and fingered her slowly. While kissing, her mind spun into a funnel of euphoria. Every stroke on her clit from his thick fingers forced delirious pants from her into his craven mouth.

"Would you like to cum on my fingers, Celeste?" he purred in her ear, dipping his tongue in and out. He licked the shell of her ear and moaned her name like a sacred mantra.

Words failed her as she murmured indecipherable sounds. Two of his fingers dipped lower and plunged into a molten pussy that squelched with his tender, shallow thrusts.

"Tight pussy…" he moaned.

In the candlelight of her bedroom, his eyes shined with an eroticism she didn't know could exist. Every breath she took stayed in synch with his, as if he were orchestrating a love-conquering like some forbidden dark lothario sneaking into a young maiden's boudoir. Her upper half rose from the bed as he fingered her pussy with such care that she couldn't see straight anymore.

"That's a good girl…I love how you squeeze around my fingers like that. Deeper? Is that what you want, my love? Oh, yes…you know how to take it deep…"

He removed his fingers to taste her wetness, and a weak mewling sound fell from her lips. It turned into pitiful whimpering as he returned those thick digits to the center of her being, digging deeper and deeper. Whipping her head back and forth, Celeste couldn't contain the surge of pleasure that coursed under the dermis of her skin and not just the top layer. Whatever he was doing crept into a deeper part of her carnal need. He tapped into something primal.

"Cum for me, Celeste. I want to see you break apart on my fingers. Can you do that for me? Look how beautiful you look jumping on this bed…just for me."

Hunched over her writhing frame, he kept his gorgeous face three inches away from hers and the lustful scrutiny in his eyes burst a damn within her. She broke down and begged for an orgasm.

"Make me cum, Terry! Ohmigod…I can't take any more—"

"Yes, you can. You're a big girl…you can take whatever…I…give…you."

His index and middle finger tapped against her walls, and his thumb rubbed hard circles into her clit. Celeste's eyes rolled back and her body jerked on the bed. Her pussy spasmed all around his fingers.

"Terry!" she wailed.

He pushed his lips against her mouth and swallowed the shouting she couldn't contain. A full body shudder took over, and he talked her through that too, his baritone becoming a lullaby of praise.

"That's my good girl. You lasted longer than you thought you could. Look how proud I am of you. See how hard my dick is? See it? All for you. Your beautiful body still shakes and clenches my fingers. You're wonderful, truly wonderful baby…"

He kissed her from the top of her head and all across her breasts. His moist lips gave butterfly kisses down to her belly button and beyond. Celeste didn't think her body would ever stop shaking. He lingered on her pussy, giving her a loving aftercare with his tongue and mouth. His patient touches brought her down from the explosive orgasm, and she drifted into a comfortable, dreamy state of bliss.

"My beautiful queen," he murmured into her thighs.

Bathed in sweat, Celeste glimpsed the flickering of her shadow on the ceiling from the candlelight. She blinked sweat from her eyes.

Why did it look like her shadow was the only one up there?

She rose onto her elbows, trying to understand what kind of optical illusion she was witnessing, but Terry hooked her attention away from the lone shadow and cuddled with her on the bed.

"I loved watching your face as you came," he said.

Feeling shy and unable to think of anything to say, she rubbed on his bicep and looked at the star and crescent tattoo.

"Are you Muslim?" she said, tracing her index finger under the crescent.

"No."

"But this is a Muslim tattoo."

"It's not. This is actually an old symbol for the sun and the moon. It represents the balance of power that comes from those heavenly bodies."

"Masculine and feminine energy."

"Not exactly, but that is a cool interpretation."

"It's shaped like New Orleans…this crescent is the mighty Mississippi River…the sharp bend in the water that curves around my city like a smile that says bon matin when the sun comes up and…what is that?"

She pointed to the glint of pale iridescent ink that wasn't visible with the naked eye until another form of light struck it above the eight-pointed star. Here, it was the candles on the nightstands. The tattoo turned into a fully closed circle with the star in the center.

"I had a clever tattoo artist experimenting with new ink," he said.

"As above, so below," she said, touching the top part of the circle. "Or…night and day."

She kissed the star on his bicep and studied the features of his face.

"Can you stay with me all night, Terry?"

"I will stay for as long as you want."

She smiled and lifted herself so that she could look directly into his eyes.

"I want to make love with you. I want to feel you inside of me so deep that I cry," she said, her lips trembling with emotion.

He brushed back the hair from her shoulder and rubbed on her hip.

"I will give you everything you want. Ask and you shall receive," he said.

His lips didn't move, but she heard his voice in her head clearly. Succinctly.

"Give me what I want," she said, lying back on the bed.

Terry wasted no time hooking her legs over his arms and settling between her thighs.

"I love how the brown gives way to the delicate pink," he said.

The tip of his dick pressed against her labia, parting them, revealing the inner flesh the color of pink cotton candy surrounded by the chocolaty brown of her vulva. Celeste glanced over at her nightstand drawer, knowing there were condoms inside. In her heightened state, prophylactics were the last thing she cared about. She didn't even ask Terry if he carried any. It didn't matter. Her body floated on a current of biological urges that she couldn't control. The quiet part of her mind latched on to the brown plastic baby on top of the nightstand that she nearly swallowed eating the King Cake two nights ago. Protect your womb. She ignored the warning.

"Look at me, Celeste," he said.

She turned her head and luxuriated in the feel of him holding her. This she would remember as the before time with him, the small window of opportunity to escape that she squandered because of the overpowering persona Terry presented to her. She caved into her libido.

Unprotected heart.

Unprotected sex.

Unprotected soul.

"Say yes," he said above her, those sensual eyes piercing her psyche.

"Yes—"

The world slowed to a crawl.

Terry pushed into her depths and she accepted all of his thickness as a blessing. She clawed at his back and watched the lone shadow dance across her ceiling as tears pricked her eyes and coursed down her cheeks.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened…and I will give you rest," she murmured to her shadow above, not knowing why that passage in the bible slipped from her mouth.

With each stroke Terry gave her, the shape of his dick tugged on her clit, causing Celeste to cry out to God, emphasizing the ecstasy she experienced. Their union shattered any perception she had of what lovemaking could be.

His mouth stayed buried in neck, sucking on it and speaking life into the delirious flesh that submitted to his will. Her bed squeaked and bounced with the headboard smacking the wall so hard she thought for sure they would crash out onto the street.

He leaned back to watch his dick plunge in and out, the ramrod brown parting her labia that fit around him like a second skin for his erection. Her pussy turned into a magician, making that dick disappear and re-appear shinier than her mama's polished silver. The hard heat of it kept her panting and clinging to his arms. Every part of her body, from a single follicle on her scalp to the callous on the bottom of her right foot, felt the rapturous gratification. Full body orgasms washed across her in steady waves until it reached a feverish pitch. Terry sensed the coming explosion and flipped her over onto her stomach. He straddled her thighs, hunkered down, and pounded her pussy. The loud smacks of their bodies colliding added to the intense carnality. He held her neck down, but she could still look back at him with glossy brown eyes that pleaded for him to never stop.

"Fuck me!" she yelled.

Terry's brows furrowed while putting his back into it, and perspiration dripped from his forehead, landing on her back. She could feel it rolling down to the crack of her ass and mingling with her own sweat. Awareness of all sensations grew tenfold. Even his grunts created vibrations she could feel across her skin.

"Celeste!" he roared, bucking harder against her ass, stretching her pussy wide open.

The sound of her name fell onto the back of her neck and burrowed into the raging skin like the tactile sensations of a finger stroking it. Their fucking was outrageous. She reveled in it. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and he kissed her, keeping his stroke game going.

"You feel so good…all around my dick…make me feel you more, baby…I'll give you what you need any time you want it. Hear me? Shit! Right there, right there, right there…lemme hit that spot deeper right there…so fucking tight on this dick!"

She twisted on her side slightly so that he could still see the side of her ass, as well as her breasts. He volleyed those wondrous eyes on her ass and face, not wanting to miss any action on either one. He grabbed a fistful of locs and used them like reins to slow his gyrating thrusts. Agonizingly slow, Terry rolled his hips and varied his hard pumps from deep to shallow, driving her to the edge.

Eyes locked, he spoke five devastating words.

"Can I cum inside you?"

His body moved with sinuous elegance, rocking into her with a heat on the verge of losing control. She clenched her walls around him and he groaned, his lips forming a startled "O" shape. His head fell back, and Celeste watched sensual pleasure twitch every muscle in his cheeks and forehead. He had the face of an angel, and she seared that image of him in her brain forever.

"Lemme cum inside you…please…lemme cum…."

"I want you to cum."

"Tell me…"

"I want you to cum inside me."

"Say it again."

His eyes trapped her. She would do anything he said. Follow him anywhere. Give him anything.

"Cum inside your pussy," she begged.

"All this is mine?"

He tugged on her locs harder.

"Yours…all yours…"

He pushed her left leg over until she was back in missionary. Twining both legs around his hips, she gasped at the friction of her clit brushing against his wiry pubic hairs that were soaked by her wetness. He was so deep inside of her that her stomach moved with each thrust.

"You belong to me now. Do you understand this?"

In the hazy glow of their lovemaking, Celeste nodded. He palmed her breast and fondled it.

"All of this belongs to me. No harm shall come to you as long as you belong to me…"

His words sounded more like an incantation than love talk. She squeezed her pussy to show she had love magic, too.

"Damn, Celeste, I'm 'bout to bust…I can't hold back…"

"Cum for me…please…take this pussy…oh…shit!"

She let go.

Her climax started behind her eyes, watching him seize up and cum, his semen spilling into her, hot and fast, coating her walls, filling her to the brim. Her pussy throbbed, milking his dick, and they both watched the lower part of his erection pulse as it pushed out an elixir that would doom her future.

"Fucckkk!" he shrieked, falling forward and covering her with his big, heavy body.

She held him tight, delighting in every after-climax shiver and shake his body made because of her. Her own body quivered with aftershocks, too.

"You are incredible. I was not expecting all that," he said, falling away from her, panting and rubbing sweat on his chest.

She snuggled against his side and he pulled her in close, both needing to feel their warmth and sweat co-mingling. Unfortunately, her bladder called for attention and she crept away to pee.

Inside her bathroom, she giggled at her reflection in the mirror. Her nipples were still hard and her pussy kept twitching, missing the feel of his dick stuffing it full. This was going to be a problem. Sex that good could become dangerously addictive.

Her face took on a somber expression, thinking about not using a condom. She quickly opened her sink cabinet and pulled out a small box of Plan B. She ripped the box open, popped the pill in her mouth, and used sink water to wash it down. A trip to the clinic would be in order to check for STDs. She was too grown at twenty-seven to be moving ass backwards with her sexual health.

How many times had she told younger cousins to use protection at all times?

Hypocrite.

Celeste grabbed a clean wash cloth from the wall shelf above the toilet and gave herself a quick PTA cleaning. She padded back to her bedroom and lost her breath looking at the fine man lying on his side under the covers waiting for her.

"Hey beautiful," he said, lifting the blanket for her to join him.

Celeste wasted no time climbing in beside her favorite lover.

He spooned around her backside and she noticed something peculiar before she blew out the candles. There were two shadows back on the ceiling again. Hers. And his.

Chapter 7 HERE.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

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@hrlzy

[buzz-london]

Shri Vallabh is offering arti during a festival.

Heavy shringar, mor-mugat, frame of pearls around the steele, saffron pichoi and charvagh suggest its a major festival of some sort.

[bee-dot-exe]

Hey @totallynotbat, happy gift exchange day, I know we haven't talked much, but thanks for letting me write for you, I don't know this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it! And thank you @technoblade-gift-exchange for putting this together, also haven't talked a whole lot, but I appreciate you, I had fun! I hope you all enjoy!

Emerald

1,933

It's kinda sad, but it's also kinda sweet, no major warnings otherwise

A thin quilt covered the earth. Sections of saffron like the edges around a bruise, and burgundy trying to compete with a glass of wine, and sepia as the chlorophyll bled out with the final remnants of summer. A patchwork blanket of color like a kaleidoscope around and beneath me.

The occasional sector of basil melting into olive grass playing a game of peek-a-boo in the areas of earth where the blanket felt shy. Stray sticks of paper that lollipops once clung to and wrappers that once surrounded a piece of chocolate taking turns with the leaves in leading a waltz as the breeze lead its orchestra.

Dia de los Muertos.

Flyers with information on the day of celebration or stories made in spirit of the holiday were taped by the corners onto the sides of buildings or tacked onto signs made of oak or cork still hung from yesterday.

Posters with each island residents' face made with white paint to look like skeletons rested on pastel backgrounds, and were hung by two pieces of wood held together by a spring on rows of thick spiderweb and string, both of their ideal intended use was for holding clothes to keep dry, connected between two trees.

I let my feet guide me through the nearly ankle deep river of color, a series of rather satisfying crunches emitting from my path, which gradually changed to slabs of pastel blocks, which lead me to an archway that looked to be made of quartz.

Lanterns with flames dyed scarlet and lemon and cerulean hung on silver chains and rested overhead.

More banners made of spiderweb, with sections of cloth or perhaps tissue paper hung in the colors of the rainbow and then some, and supported by two thin stalks of wood which were placed on either side of the archway.

I walked through. There was a decoration every time I shifted my eyes or turned my head.

Lanterns, pots with flowers planted in them, flyers with short stories, a giant rainbow papier mâché amalgamation of animals.

I heard footsteps fade from crunching leaves beneath them to tapping as they reached the smooth surface of the pastel path. The person they belonged to coming up behind me and then standing at my side.

"Oy."

"How's it going, Fit?"

"Not bad, not bad."

"Heard I missed out yesterday, sorry about that."

"No worries, but yeah, hell of a day. Come on, I'll show you around."

Bits of tissue paper streamers were strewn about on the ground, some still dancing as they fell from the trees around us, occasionally getting caught in the branches on their journey.

A stray candy wrapper sometimes blew by like a tumbleweed, a few getting stuck in a group of leaves that had gathered in places around where the event was held.

"So I'm sure you heard about the eggs that stopped by."

"I did. Real shame I missed them."

"It is, and I know it's not the same, but you can visit their offrenda's over here, say hello, tell them you miss them, whatever."

"Lead the way, mate."

First we visited Juanaflippa.

Her alter had rows of potted lilacs and pink alliums lined up at the sides, and a few more pots scattered around the center.

A dozen or so pink candles were settled on the steps, some inside of skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There was a shield, a few different swords, a couple of green apples, and some empty pink signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of her wearing her glasses sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey Juanaflippa.

Hope you're doing well. I don't know if that was really you that came back to visit us, I think maybe this means probably not, but I don't know.

Your dad really misses you, we all do, but your dad's a bit of a mess right now, more so than usual. Things are a bit off for him, physically and emotionally, not gonna lie.

We all miss you so much. We miss your little glasses and your backflips.

I hope you're doing alright, wherever you are."

Next was Bobby.

His alter had rows of potted turquoise flowers along the sides, along with a few violet and red ones, and a handful of the aquamarine ones in pots scattered around the center.

A dozen or so royal blue candles sat on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were a couple of tridents, a gun, and some empty blue signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of him wearing his denim overalls sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey there Bobby.

Sorry I missed you yesterday. I hope you're doing alright.

Your parents miss you so much. I can tell your apa is sad sometimes, but he doesn't really show it, he doesn't show that side of him with anyone though, you're probably not all that surprised. He seems happy when he's with Cellbit though, you're probably not super surprised about that either. Your mom also gets kinda sad, but she's doing okay otherwise I think. Did you know she had wings? You'd like them.

We miss you, buddy. Your little dungarees and you giving us those blue flowers.

I hope you're doing good out there."

Then Tilín.

Her alter had rows of potted lilacs and some other red flowers along the sides, and some of the red ones in pots around the center.

A dozen or so crimson candles were settled on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were some feathers, a piece of cake, a block of dynamite, and some empty red signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of them with that little red bow on top of her head sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hi Tilín.

Hope you're alright.

Your dad doesn't talk about you a lot, I'll be honest, but it's not because he doesn't care about or miss you, he just doesn't know how to show or talk about things sometimes.

But he misses you so much, we all do. Your little ribbon and giving us red flowers.

I hope you're okay out there."

And finally Trumpet.

His alter had rows of potted daffodils and some other red and yellow flowers, some of both kinds were also scattered in the center.

A dozen or so yellow candles were settled on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were some books, a few spiderwebs, and some empty yellow signs.

In the center of the alters was a painting of him with his propeller hat sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey Trump.

I'm really sorry I missed you yesterday. But you weren't alone. There were so many people here for you.

I heard that even your dad was here. I'm sorry not everyone was there for you before and if you felt alone, no one deserves that, no matter their age. You didn't deserve what happened to you.

We all miss you and your little rainbow propeller hat so much.

I hope you're alright wherever you are. I hope you're happy. I hope you never feel alone again."

"Oh, sorry Fit, to be honest, kinda forgot you were here for a minute there."

I said as I heard a throat clear behind me.

"No worries, no worries, didn't wanna interrupt anything, thank you for saying those things though, I think they needed it, I think you kinda needed it too."

"Yeah, that felt kinda nice, thanks for bringing me by."

"I uh, I actually have one more thing to show you, if you'll follow me."

"Yeah, I'm really glad I uh, oh---"

We walked up to a set of red wooden stairs. An alter. An offrenda.

And in the center was a painting in a gold frame of a person wearing a skull with tusks, had long pink hair, a fuzzy red cape with white at the neck, and a crown.

Technoblade.

"Oh my God, dude, really?"

Fit just slowly nodded.

We stood and stared for a minute.

"Hey Fit, could you do me a favor?"

I reached for the camera in its bag around my neck.

"Yeah I gotcha."

There were rows of different leaves and potted flowers in blue and red along the side, and a few red and pink flowers in the center.

There were about a dozen white candles, all of them were lit.

There was a diamond sword, an emerald, a totem, a skull, an ender pearl, a crown, and a potato around the painting.

"I gotta leave something, hold on, do you have an anvil by chance?"

"I gotcha covered."

Both of our voices shook slightly.

Fit put down the anvil and I made a name tag, Toothpick, which I put on a diamond pickaxe, and placed that on the step between the totem and sword.

"This was really nice."

"It was really thoughtful."

"They really didn't have to do this."

"Yeah."

"Can I ask you for one more thing?"

"Of course."

"Can I have a second alone with him?"

"Take all the time you want, buddy."

I heard the leaves crunch as Fit's footsteps retreated and sat down on the ground in front of the alter. I brushed my fingers along blades of grass and the petals of one of the pink flowers in a pot beside me. I finally let the tears stuck to my waterline fall.

"Hey mate.

Has it really been almost a year and a half? That feels impossible.

There isn't a moment where you aren't on my mind. You're on a lot of people's minds. You'd probably be flattered though, make some kind of probably sarcastic comment, prick.

Wish you came by yesterday, maybe you did, who knows. Wish I was there to see if you did or not. Wish you could hear me telling you this right now, maybe you can, it's probably not impossible.

Chayanne, that egg kid of mine you maybe have heard me talk about, your nephew. You're his hero. And he's so much like you. I wish you could meet him.

I honestly don't know which of you is better at pvp, you both can put up a fight until the last second, you're both stubborn as all get out, and you both could win.

And Tallulah, Wilbur's egg, she's been staying with me since he had to go do his music and things, she knows about and admires you too.

You'd go kinda soft on her, guaranteed, she'd win you over. She'd give you poppies and play you music and make you laugh.

We all miss you, so goddamn much, take care wherever you are, okay Tech?"

After the tears on my face had dried and it felt like it had been quiet for long enough, I put my hand on the bottom step next to the pick one last time as a send off, then went through the archway to find Fit.

[fuckyeahthomaspynchon]

He left the dodoes to rot, he couldn’t endure to eat their flesh. Usually, he hunted alone. But often, after months of it, the isolation would begin to change him, change his very perceptions—the jagged mountains in full daylight flaring as he watched into freak saffrons, streaming indigos, the sky his glass house, all the island his tulipomania. The voices—he insomniac, southern stars too thick for constellations teeming in faces and creatures of fable less likely than the dodo—spoke the words of sleepers, singly, coupled, in chorus. The rhythms and timbres were Dutch, but made no waking sense. Except that he thought they were warning him… scolding, angry that he couldn’t understand. Once he sat all day staring at a single white dodo’s egg in a grass hummock. The place was too remote for any foraging pig to’ve found. He waited for scratching, a first crack reaching to net the chalk surface: an emergence. Hemp gripped in the teeth of the steel snake, ready to be lit, ready to descend, sun to black-powder sea, and destroy the infant, egg of light into egg of darkness, within its first minute of amazed vision, of wet downstirred cool by these south-east trades… . Each hour he sighted down the barrel. It was then, if ever, he might have seen how the weapon made an axis potent as Earth’s own between himself and this victim, still one, inside the egg, with the ancestral chain, not to be broken out for more than its blink of world’s light. There they were, the silent egg and the crazy Dutchman, and the hookgun that linked them forever, framed, brilliantly motionless as any Vermeer. Only the sun moved: from zenith down at last behind the snaggleteeth of mountains to Indian ocean, to tarry night. The egg, without a quiver, still unhatched. He should have blasted it then where it lay: he understood that the bird would hatch before dawn. But a cycle was finished. He got to his feet, knee and hip joints in agony, head gonging with instructions from his sleeptalkers droning by, overlapping, urgent, and only limped away, piece at right shoulder arms.

When loneliness began to drive him into situations like this, he often returned to a settlement and joined a hunting party. A drunken, university hysteria would take hold of them all, out on night-rampages where they’d be presently firing at anything, treetops, clouds, leather demon bats screaming up beyond hearing. Tradewinds moving up-slope to chill their nights’ sweating, sky lit half crimson by a volcano, rumblings under their feet as deep as the bats’ voices were high, all these men were caught in the spectrum between, trapped among frequencies of their own voices and words.

This furious host were losers, impersonating a race chosen by God. The colony, the venture, was dying—like the ebony trees they were stripping from the island, like the poor species they were removing totally from the earth. By 1681, Didus ineptus would be gone, by 1710 so would every last settler from Mauritius. The enterprise here would have lasted about a human lifetime.

To some, it made sense. They saw the stumbling birds ill-made to the point of Satanic intervention, so ugly as to embody argument against a Godly creation. Was Mauritius some first poison trickle through the sheltering dikes of Earth? Christians must stem it here, or perish in a second Flood, loosed this time not by God but by the Enemy. The act of ramming home the charges into their musketry became for these men a devotional act, one whose symbolism they understood.

But if they were chosen to come to Mauritius, why had they also been chosen to fail, and leave? Is that a choosing, or is it a passing-over? Are they Elect, or are they Preterite, and doomed as dodoes?

Frans could not know that except for a few others on the island of Reunion, these were the only dodoes in the Creation, and that he was helping exterminate a race. But at times the scale and frenzy of the hunting did come through to trouble his heart. “If the species were not such a perversion,” he wrote, “it might be profitably husbanded to feed our generations. I cannot hate them quite so violently as do some here. But what now can mitigate this slaughter? It is too late… . Perhaps a more comely beak, fuller feathering, a capacity for flight, however brief… details of Design. Or, had we but found savages on this island, the bird’s appearance might have then seemed to us no stranger than that of the wild turkey of North America. Alas, their tragedy is to be the dominant form of Life on Mauritius, but incapable of speech.

That was it, right there. No language meant no chance of co-opting them in to what their round and flaxen invaders were calling Salvation. But Frans, in the course of morning lights lonelier than most, could not keep from finally witnessing a miracle: a Gift of Speech… a Conversion of the Dodoes. Ranked in thousands on the shore, with a luminous profile of reef on the water behind them, its roar the only sound on the morning, volcanoes at rest, the wind suspended, an autumn sunrise dispensing light glassy and deep over them all… they have come from their nests and rookeries, from beside the streams bursting out the mouths of lava tunnels, from the minor islands awash like debris off the north coast, from sudden waterfalls and the wasted rain-forests where the axeblades are rusting and the rough flumes rot and topple in the wind, from their wet mornings under the shadows of mountain-stubs they have waddled in awkward pilgrimage to this assembly: to be sanctified, taken in… . For as much as they are the creatures of God, and have the gift of rational discourse, acknowledging that only in His Word is eternal life to His Word is eternal life to be found… And there are tears of happiness in the eyes of the dodoes. They are all brothers now, they and the humans who used to hunt them, brothers in Christ, the little baby they dream now of sitting near, roosting in his stable, feathers at peace, watching over him and his dear face all night long… .

It is the purest form of European adventuring. What’s it all been for, the murdering seas, the gangrene winters and starving springs, our bone pursuit of the unfaithful, midnights of wrestling with the Beast, our sweat become ice and our tears pale flakes of snow, if not for such moments as this: the little converts flowing out of eye’s field, so meek, so trusting—how shall any craw clench in fear, any recreant cry be offered in the presence of our blade, our necessary blade? Sanctified now they will feed us, sanctified their remains and droppings fertilize our crops. Did we tell them “Salvation”? Did we mean a dwelling forever in the City? Everlasting life? An earthly paradise restored, their island as it used to be given them back? Probably. Thinking all the time of the little brothers numbered among our own blessings. Indeed, if they save us from hunger in this world, then beyond, in Christ’s kingdom, our salvations must be, in like measure, inextricable. Otherwise the dodoes would be only what they appear as in the world’s illusory light—only our prey. God could not be that cruel.

-Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow

[kvb222poonwanghong]

Week 1 Artist Research

Christo and Jeanne-Claude: The Gates (2005)

Background:

Large-scale environmental sculptures by renowned artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude are commended for transforming public spaces into immersive creative experiences. One of their best-known works, The Gates, was finished in Central Park, New York City, in February 2005. The artists' vast effort, which took them over 26 years to finish, is evidence of their dedication and perseverance with their goal. The installation was eventually finished, despite a number of logistical, administrative, and financial challenges; this is a testament to their tenacity and creative energy.

Details:

Location: New York City's Central Park

Time: February 12–February 27, 2005.

Materials: 7,503 steel-framed gates covered in fabric dyed saffron. Every gate was 16 feet tall and ranged in width from 5 feet 6 inches to 18 feet.

Cost: Approximately $21 million, all covered by the revenues from the sales of Christo and Jeanne-Claude's models, preparatory sketches, and other artwork.

Installation:

As part of the 23 km of trails in Central Park, 7,503 gates were installed as part of The Gates project. Each gate was fashioned from a flowing panel of saffron-colored linen. It was supported by two vertical steel supports and hung from a horizontal crossbar. The gates provide a dynamic and captivating visual spectacle as they gently move in the breeze. The bright saffron cloth, in sharp contrast to the wintry surroundings of Central Park, produced an aesthetically pleasing promenade that was warm and welcoming for guests.

The artists employed a team of hundreds of people to erect the gates in order to minimize any impact on the park's environment. Every gate was assembled on site and placed to follow the park's path patterns throughout the meticulous installation process. After the project was completed, all of the materials used to build the gates were meant to be repurposed.

Reflection:

The Gates altered Central Park and encouraged visitors to view the well-known landscape from a different angle. The vivid saffron cloth, in stark contrast to the chilly surroundings, brought warmth and color to the park. The proposal featured people as an essential part of the artwork by enticing them to enter the gates.

One of the most significant aspects of the Gates was its capacity to bring people together. Visitors from all around the world felt a sense of unity and shared experience as a result of the exhibit. The project was a unique occasion that emphasized the beauty of a fleeting experience because it was only temporary.

Christo and Jeanne-Claude provided the Gates with autonomous funding, which preserved their creative independence. They may continue to create art according to their vision without interference from the government or benefactors.

To sum up, Christo and Jeanne-Claude's amazing work of public art, The Gates, transformed Central Park and provided an unforgettable experience for those who witnessed it. It illustrated how art has the power to bring people together and alter their perception of their environment.

Reference:

Phillips, P. C., & Katz, J. D. (2005). Christo and Jeanne-Claude: The Gates, Central Park, New York City, 1979-2005. Taschen.

Christo, Jeanne-Claude, & Volz, W. (2005). The Gates: Project for Central Park, New York City. Taschen.

Kimmelman, M. (2005, February 13). At last, The Gates are down in Central Park, all 7,503 of them. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2005/02/13/arts/design/at-last-the-gates-are-down-in-central-park-all-7503-of-them.html

Wang, Y., Su, H., Ma, S., & Wang, Y. (2019). Understanding the impact of wind power curtailment on grid-connected wind farms: A spatial and temporal analysis in China. Sustainability, 11(24), 7204. https://doi.org/10.3390/su11247204

Richard Serra: Tilted Arc (1981)

Background:

Renowned American sculptor Richard Serra is well-known for his massive steel structures. One of his best-known sculptures, Tilted Arc, was installed in 1981 at Federal Plaza in New York City. The artwork sparked a contentious conversation regarding public art and how it affects public areas.

Details:

Location: Federal Plaza in New York City. Duration: installed in 1981, removed in 1989. Materials: Corten steel. Dimensions: 120 feet long by 12 ft high. Cost: Funded by the Art-in-Architecture Program of the United States General Services Administration.

Installation:

The huge Tilted Arc steel wall bent to split Federal Plaza in half. The rust color of the steel stood out sharply against the background. The artwork was intended to interact with the plaza and alter its experience because it was designed to be site-specific.

Reflection:

Tilted Arc significantly altered Federal Plaza's user experience. Its imposing presence disrupted some, but forcing them to maneuver around it provoked thought in others. The sculpture was meant to make individuals more conscious of their surroundings and their movements within them.

Still, the piece generated a lot of controversy. Many in the workforce in the region felt that it was an eyesore and a barrier, which led to public hearings and discussions. The fact that Tilted Arc was eventually demolished in 1989 due to a court order highlights the complex relationship that exists between public art and its audience.

In summary, Richard Serra's Tilted Arc was a powerful piece of public art that challenged preconceptions and sparked important discussions on the role and importance of art in public spaces. Even after it was removed, it is still recognized as a significant work of contemporary art history.

Reference:

Serra, R. (1989). Writings and interviews. University of Chicago Press.

Senie, H. F. (2002). The Tilted Arc controversy: Dangerous precedent? University of Minnesota Press.

Glueck, G. (1989, March 16). Tilted Arc: Art or eyesore? Time runs out for debate on sculpture. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/1989/03/16/arts/tilted-arc-art-or-eyesore-time-runs-out-for-debate-on-sculpture.html

Blasting News. (2024, April). When public art prompted a petition to scrap it. Blasting News. https://us.blastingnews.com/opinion/2024/04/when-public-art-prompted-a-petition-to-scrap-it-003817164.html

[chounaifu]

Locking eyes with the medium shouldn't feel so confrontational, yet, when Proton looks at her, he feels the stare of every single village elder that he had looked up at when he was still a young child. Crows feet framing the eyes, traditional clothing, pursed lips framed by wide wrinkles. When she speaks, the man silently bites the inside of his mouth, and he nods, bowing his head in return as a form of pseudo-respect.

Just like the rest of the city, Ecruteak's gym was carved from the bedrock of tradition, from its impressive architecture, to the manners expected at the front door. Had it not been for the slight distraction of an anxious gym challenger, Proton would had looked visibly uncomfortable. Instead, he is able to steel his emotions, and focus on the task at hand.

Personal vendettas towards the city of spirits could rest as one-- his duty to Sabrina needed to come first.

The sound of heavy boots clacking against the floor are heard as Proton steps in. This places gives off a similar aura to that of the Saffron gym-- though, Matsuba's space felt far more human than anything Proton ever experience in Sabrina's domain.

Locking eyes with Matsuba should feel confrontational, given the problems that Rocket had caused in Johto a decade or so ago. It's the first normal feeling that Proton has felt since stepping off of the train though. This was someone he once considered an enemy. And enemies are familiar. They're comfortable to contend with. Graciously, he can greet a former enemy with opening his arms, and giving an amused bow. He lifts his head, still partially bent over, and flashes those sharp teeth.

"So you're the star of this investigation, I've been told?" Proton speaks up, slowly leaning back up, and putting a hand on his hip.

"Nice place," he glances around the gym, before looking at the massive beast that stood near Matsuba. Proton points at it.

"Never seen that one before," a passive thought as he approaches closer.

"But, that's somethin' for another time. Natsume sent me on business."

A pause.

"We've got captives, from that Thing's cult. They told us where it's at."

The texts go unanswered for a long time before the response is very simple.

Come to the gym. I'll be there.

After all, it's been a strange number of days, bouncing between Saffron City and Ecruteak City - hunting the shadows that had fallen over the city a year ago and threatened it with wide claws again. He's been back in Ecruteak for only a day before a challenger comes to the gym.

It is that challenger that passes Proton, pale with fright and clutching a shiny new Great Ball to their chest, when the gym doors finally open. There is a medium inside talking to the referee at the front of the building, an old woman who turns her head and pauses at Proton's appearance in the doorway.

She is quiet for a moment before an imperceptible amount of understanding crosses her face, the sign that someone has reached out to deliver her an unspoken message.

"Ah. You're here to see Matsuba."

She dips her head and, with a short clap of her hands, bids the lamps in the gym come on to illuminate the path to the back room.

"Go on, he's expecting you."

The room awaiting the end of the path is still steaming from the aftermath of battle, ice peeling away from the walls as the arena resets itself with the League approached tools.

The dais at the back of the room frames a symbol much like the eye in Sabrina's gym (the gyms had been built, of course, so long ago that the knowledge that mediums and psychics were indeed different breeds of the same type was not yet known) and there are cards scattered around it in a half circle around a spot where someone might sit.

Matsuba turns his head to look at the guest, framed by the smoking tendrils of an enormous, pale grey-and-purple Zoroark.

"Come in, come in."

[saffronsteel]

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[saffronsteelframes]

The Top Reasons to Choose Residential Steel Frames

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[mysticalhearth]

E

astland - Chicago - 2012 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Jeanne T. Arrigo, Lawrence E. DiStasi, Christine Mary Dunford, Doug Hara, Derek Hasenstab, Erik Hellman, Malcolm Ruhl, Michael Barrow Smith, Scott Stangland, Tiffany Topol, Claire Wellin, Monica West, Lillian Cummings, Doug Pawlik Elegies: A Song Cycle - Off Broadway - April 17, 2003 FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Betty Buckley, Carolee Carmello, Christian Borle, Keith Byron Kirk, Michael Rupert Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary European Tour - February 15, 2012 FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Annemieke van Dam (Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Mathias Edenborn (Franz Joseph), Martin Markert (u/s Kronprinz Rudolf), Betty Vermeulen (Sophie), Dennis Kozeluh (Max in Bayern), Jens Czernitzky (Rudolf als Kind), Elissa Huber (Herzogin Ludovika) NOTES: filmed by 2 cameras Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary European Tour - March 4, 2012 FORMAT:  MP4 (SD) CAST: Alice Macura (u/s Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Mathias Edenborn (Franz Joseph), Oliver Arno (Kronprinz Rudolf), Betty Vermeulen (Sophie), Dennis Kozeluh (Max in Bayern), Jonathan Späth (Rudolf als Kind), Angela Hunkeler (Herzogin Ludovika) NOTES: Last show of the tour in Essen. Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary European Tour - March 4, 2012 FORMAT:  MP4 (SD) CAST: Alice Macura (u/s Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Mathias Edenborn (Franz Joseph), Oliver Arno (Kronprinz Rudolf), Betty Vermeulen (Sophie), Dennis Kozeluh (Max in Bayern), Jonathan Späth (Rudolf als Kind), Angela Hunkeler (Herzogin Ludovika) NOTES: Last show of the tour in Essen. Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary European Tour - February, 2012 FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Annemieke van Dam (Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Mathias Edenborn (Franz Joseph), Fredrik Andersson (Kronprinz Rudolf) Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary European Tour - February, 2012 (3) FORMAT:  MP4 (SD) CAST: Annemieke van Dam (Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Mathias Edenborn (Franz Joseph), Martin Markert (Kronprinz Rudolf), Betty Vermeulen (Sophie), Dennis Kozeluh (Max in Bayern), Jens Czernitzky (Rudolf als Kind), Elissa Huber (Herzogin Ludovika) Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary Vienna Revival - March 22, 2013 FORMAT:  MP4 (SD) CAST: Annemieke van Dam (Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Franziskus Hartenstein (Franz Joseph), Anton Zetterholm (Kronprinz Rudolf), Daniela Ziegler (Sophie), Christian Peter Hauser (Max in Bayern), Aeneas Hollweg (Rudolf als Kind), Carin Filipčić (Herzogin Ludovika), Carin Filipčić (Frau Wolf) NOTES: Pretty good shoot of the Vienna run. Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary Vienna Revival - June 29, 2013 FORMAT:  MP4 (SD) CAST: Janneke Ivankova-van Duijnhoven (u/s Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Jörn-Felix Alt (u/s Franz Joseph), Gernot Romic (u/s Kronprinz Rudolf), Daniela Ziegler (Sophie), Christian Peter Hauser (Max in Bayern), Aeneas Hollweg (Rudolf als Kind), Carin Filipčić (Herzogin Ludovika), Carin Filipčić (Frau Wolf) Elisabeth - 20th Anniversary Vienna Revival - June 8-9, 2013 FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Janneke Ivankova-van Duijnhoven (u/s Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Franziskus Hartenstein (Franz Joseph), Lukas Perman (Kronprinz Rudolf), Dagmar Hellberg (Sophie), Christian Peter Hauser (Max in Bayern), Carin Filipčić (Herzogin Ludovika), Carin Filipčić (Frau Wolf) Elisabeth - Elisabeth In Concert - Apeldoorn - June 15, 2017 (Rumpel's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Stanley Burleson (Der Tod), Wim van den Driessche (Luigi Lucheni), Jeroen Phaff (Franz Joseph), Addo Kruizinga (Kronprinz Rudolf), Doris Baaten (Sophie) Elisabeth - Essen - January 13, 2002 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Uwe Kröger (Der Tod), Carsten Lepper (Luigi Lucheni), Michael Shawn Lewis (Franz Joseph), Jesper Tydèn (Kronprinz Rudolf), Gabriele Ramm (Sophie), Claus Dam (Max in Bayern), Annika Bruhns (Herzogin Ludovika) NOTES: Single cam proshot of Pia Douwes's last show. Audio not from soundboard. Includes three bows and an encore performance. Elisabeth - Scheveningen - October 19, 1999 (Preview) (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) |  TRADER'S NOTES: NFT CAST: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Stanley Burleson (Der Tod), Wim van den Driessche (Luigi Lucheni), Jeroen Phaff (Franz Joseph), Addo Kruizinga (Kronprinz Rudolf), Doris Baaten (Sophie), Nico Schaap (Max in Bayern) NOTES: Multi-cam proshot Elisabeth - Scheveningen - June 2, 2001 FORMAT:  VOB (no smalls) (SD) CAST: Marleen van der Loo (u/s Elisabeth), Stanley Burleson (Der Tod), Antonie Kamerling (alt Luigi Lucheni), Jeroen Phaff (Franz Joseph), Addo Kruizinga (Kronprinz Rudolf), Willemijn Verkaik Elisabeth - Shanghai - December 20, 2014 FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Marle Martens (u/s Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Kurosch Abbasi (Luigi Lucheni), Maximilian Mann (Franz Joseph), Thomas Hohler (Kronprinz Rudolf), Angelika Wedekind (Sophie), Dennis Kozeluh (Max in Bayern) Elisabeth - Third European Tour - March 7, 2015 (Matinee) FORMAT:  MTS CAST: Roberta Valentini (Elisabeth), Mark Seibert (Der Tod), Michael Souschek (alt Luigi Lucheni), Maximilian Mann (Franz Joseph), Fredrik Andersson (alt Kronprinz Rudolf), Angelika Wedekind (Sophie), Dennis Kozeluh (Max in Bayern), Paul Elias Marxer (Rudolf als Kind), Caroline Sommer (Herzogin Ludovika) Elisabeth - Thun - 2006 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Willemijn Verkaik (Elisabeth), Christoph Goetten (Der Tod), Sergio-Maurice Vaglio (Luigi Lucheni), Jan-Martin Machler (Franz Joseph), Nico Gaik (Kronprinz Rudolf), Manuela Floryan (Sophie) NOTES: ProShot of the show mixed with lots of backstage stuff Elisabeth - Vienna - August 25, 1992 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Uwe Kröger (Der Tod), Ethan Freeman (Luigi Lucheni), Viktor Gernot (Franz Joseph), Andreas Bieber (Kronprinz Rudolf), Else Ludwig (Sophie) NOTES: Proshot of the dress-rehearsal. Multicam proshot. Elisabeth - Vienna - August 29, 1992 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Uwe Kröger (Der Tod), Ethan Freeman (Luigi Lucheni), Viktor Gernot (Franz Joseph), Andreas Bieber (Kronprinz Rudolf), Else Ludwig (Sophie), Wolfgang Pampel (Max in Bayern), Christa Wettstein (Herzogin Ludovika) NOTES: Proshot of a dress rehearsal Elisabeth - Vienna - December 26, 1992 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Pia Douwes (Elisabeth), Uwe Kröger (Der Tod), Ethan Freeman (Luigi Lucheni), Viktor Gernot (Franz Joseph), Andreas Bieber (Kronprinz Rudolf), Else Ludwig (Sophie) NOTES: Single-cam proshot. Emilia - West End - May 29, 2019 (House-Cam's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Nadia Albina (Lady Katherine Howard), Nadia Albina (Desdemonda), Nadia Albina (River Woman), Anna Andersen (Lady Mary Sidney), Anna Andersen (Margaret Johnson), Anna Andersen (Hester), Jackie Clune (Lord Thomas Howard), Jackie Clune (Eve), Jackie Clune (Lady Helena), Saffron Commber (Emilia 1), Lauren Drennan (Ensemble), Jenni Maitland (Countess of Kent), Jenni Maitland (Mary), Jenni Maitland (Bob), Carolyn Pickles (Lord Henry Carey), Carolyn Pickles (Judith), Carolyn Pickles (Priest), Sarah Seggari (Lady Corelia), Sarah Seggari (Flora), Sophie Stone (Lady Margaret Clifford), Sophie Stone (Midwife), Sophie Stone (Man 1), Charity Wakefield (William Shakespear), Charity Wakefield (Man 2), Amanda Wilkin (Alphonso Lanier), Amanda Wilkin (Emilia in Othello), Tankia Yearwood (Lady Anne Clifford), Tankia Yearwood (Lord Collins), Tankia Yearwood (Dave) NOTES: Two-camera archive footage from the show filmed in May, 2019. Streamable from November 10 to November 24, 2020. 3 Versions Available : Without Subtitles With Subtitles Audio Described Emojiland - Off-Broadway - February, 2020 (StarCuffedJeans's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Laura Schein (Smize), George Abud (Nerd Face), Jacob Dickey (Sunny), Lucas Steele (Skull), Taylor Iman Jones (t/r Princess), Natalie Weiss (Construction Worker), Felicia Boswell (Police Officer), Heather Makalani (Kissy Face / Information Desk Woman), Ann Harada (Pile of Poo), Max Crumm (Man in Business Suit Levitating), Dwelvan David (Guardsman), Jordan Fife Hunt (Man Dancing) NOTES: Well filmed from back of the house. A little shaky at times. Heads in the bottom of the frame, but they don't really interfere with the action onstage. Endgame - The Old Vic - 2020 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  TS (SD) CAST: Daniel Radcliffe (Clov/A), Alan Cumming (Hamm/B), Karl Johnson (Nagg), Jane Horrocks (Nell) Escape to Margaritaville - Broadway - May, 2018 (NYCG8R's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Alison Luff (Rachel), Andre Ward (Jamal/Ted), Don Sparks (J.D.), Eric Petersen (Brick), Ian Michael Stuart (Chadd), Lisa Howard (Tammy), Mike Millan (Jesús), Paul Alexander Nolan (Tully), Rema Webb (Marley) Eugenius! - Off-West End Revival - 2018 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Rob Houchen (Eugene), Laura Baldwin (Janey), Daniel Buckley (Feris), Neil McDermott (Evil Lord Hector), Alex Bourne (Lex Hogan), Scott Paige (Theo), Emily Tierney (Carrie/Super Hot Lady), Simon Thomas (Gerhard/Tough Man), Christopher Ragland (Eugene's Dad/Lord Tough Man), Alison Arnopp (Space Diva/Mrs Truthstretcher), Tom Senior (Stock Jock/Laurence/Flock of Eagles Singer), Mark Hamill (Voice of Kevin the Robot), Alex Tranter, Amy West, Ben Darcy, Dillon Scott-Lewis, Lauren Concannon, Sasha Wareham, Titus Rowe NOTES: Archive footage that was released on their Facebook during theatre closures to help raise money for Acting for Others. Ripped from the Facebook video so some quality loss but not too much. Everybody's Talking About Jamie - West End - August 21, 2019 (Matinee) (wheredidtherockgo's master) FORMAT:  AVI (HD) CAST: Layton Williams (Jamie New), Rebecca McKinnis (Margaret New), Sabrina Sandhu (Pritti Pasha), Bill Ward (Hugo Battersby), Sejal Keshwala (Ray), Rita Simons (Miss Hedge), Luke Baker (Dean Paxton), Alex Anstey (Laika Virgin), James Gillan (Tray Sophisticay), Momar Diagne (Sandra Bollock), Marlon G Day (Jamie's Dad), Emily Kenwright (Vicki), Marvin Charles (Mickey), Luke Latchman (Sayid), Courtney Bowman (Fatimah) NOTES: If you can hear me breathe pretty heavily it’s because I’m trying not to cry. The finale is very shaky because I was clapping and the sound it a little bit distorted because I was holding the camera in my mouth (yes. In my mouth). Includes full audio, which was recorded separately. 16.05 GB in total. Everybody's Talking About Jamie - West End - December, 2019 (Highlights) (queenofthedead's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Luke Latchman (alt Jamie New), Melissa Jacques (Margaret New), Sabrina Sandhu (Pritti Pasha), Phil Nichol (Hugo Battersby), Sejal Keshwala (Ray), Preeya Kalidas (Miss Hedge), Luke Baker (Dean Paxton), Alex Anstey (Laika Virgin), James Gillan (Tray Sophisticay), Momar Diagne (u/s Sandra Bollock), Marlon G Day (Jamie's Dad), Zahra Jones (Becca), Harriet Payne (Bex), Biancha Szynal (s/w Vicki), Alexander Archer (Mickey), Marvyn Charles (s/w Sayid), Adam Taylor (s/w Cy), Daniel Davids (Levi), Tilly La Belle Yengo (Fatimah) NOTES: All of act 2 and 30 mins of act 1 highlights. Act 1 shot around very obstructive heads and about a quarter of the stage is completely blocked, but watchable. Act 2 is much better and only Beautiful is majorly obstructed. Everybody's Talking About Jamie - West End - July 5, 2018 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: John McCrea (Jamie New), Josie Walker (Margaret New), Lucie Shorthouse (Pritti Pasha), Phil Nichol (Hugo Battersby), Shobna Gulati (Ray), Tamsin Carroll (Miss Hedge), Luke Baker (Dean Paxton), Alex Anstey (Laika Virgin), James Gillan (Tray Sophisticay), Daniel Jacob (Sandra Bollock), Ken Christiansen (Jamie's Dad), Lauran Rae (Becca), Harriet Payne (Bex), Kirstie Skivington (Vicki), Ryan Hughes (Mickey), Jordan Cunningham (Sayid), Shiv Rabheru (Cy), Courtney Bowman (Fatimah) Everyman - National Theatre - July 16, 2015 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  Other video (see notes) CAST: Chiwetel Ejiofor (Everyman), Philip Martin Brown (Father), Paul Bullion (Sound), Adam Burton (Passion/Goods), Michelle Butterly (Sister), Sharon D Clarke (Mother), Dermot Crowley (Death), Kate Duchêne (God/Good Deeds), Amy Griffiths (Vanity/Goods), Nick Holder (Strength), Nicholas Karimi (Smell), Joshua Lacey (Sensuality/Goods), Penny Layden (Knowledge), Coral Messam (Conscience), Nadine Cox (Touch), Itxaso Moreno (Taste), Ira Mandela Siobhan (Sight), Kiribati Stamell (Discretion), Clemmie Sveaas (Insecurity/Goods) Evil Dead: The Musical - First National Tour - September 13, 2014 (SunsetBlvd79's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Andrew Di Rosa (Jake), Callie Johnson (Annie/Shelly), Creg Sclavi (Scott), David Sajewich (Ash), Demi Zaino (Cheryl), Julie Baird (Linda), Ryan McBride (Ed/Moose) NOTES: Excellent HD capture with no obstructions of the 2014 National Tour. Campy slasher musical based on the 1981 movie. A Evil Dead: The Musical - Off-Broadway - February 17, 2007 (Closing Night) (House-Cam's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Brandon Wardell (Scott), Daryll Winslow (Jake), Jenna Coker (Cheryl), Jennifer Byrne (Linda), Renee Klapmeyer (Annie/Shelly), Ryan Ward (Ash), Tom Walker (Ed/Moose) NOTES: Single cam proshot of the closing night performance. Includes Broadway Beat appearance and press reel. Evita - 20th Anniversary US Tour - June 12, 1999 FORMAT:  MP4 (SD) CAST: Natalie Toro (Eva Perón), Raúl Esparza (Che), Raymond Jaramillo McLeod (Perón), Tom Flynn (Magaldi), Angela Covington (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Nicely filmed from the balcony. Some generational loss. Evita - First Broadway Revival - March 14, 2012 (Preview) (SunsetBlvd79's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Elena Roger (Eva Perón), Maya Jade Frank (Young Eva), Ricky Martin (Che), Michael Cerveris (Perón), Max von Essen (Magaldi), Rachel Potter (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Great Capture of the due Broadway transfer from London. Elena is a great Evita, the addition of Michael, Ricky and Max are excellent. A lavish and well executed Evita that was due for a date with Broadway. A Evita - First Broadway Revival - July 28, 2012 (SunsetBlvd79's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Christina DeCicco (alt Eva Perón), Ricky Martin (Che), Michael Cerveris (Perón), Rachel Potter (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Excellent HD capture of the Alternate Eva. Christina vocally commands the score and thrilling to watch. She really should have had the role full time! Beautiful production and stunning Eva. A Evita - First Broadway Revival - July 28, 2012 (SunsetBlvd79's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Christina DeCicco (alt Eva Perón), Ricky Martin (Che), Michael Cerveris (Perón), Rachel Potter (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Excellent HD capture of the Alternate Eva. Christina vocally commands the score and thrilling to watch. She really should have had the role full time! Beautiful production and stunning Eva. A Evita - First Broadway Revival - August 13, 2012 (NYCG8R's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Christina DeCicco (t/r Eva Perón), Ricky Martin (Che), Michael Cerveris (Perón), Max von Essen (Magaldi), Rachel Potter (Perón's Mistress), Ashley Amber, Bradley Dean, Colin Cunliffe, Eric L Christian, George Lee Andrews, Kristine Covillo, Margot de La Barre NOTES: Very nice video; a couple of short blackouts towards the beginning of the show but otherwise well filmed with good close-ups and sound. Evita - First Broadway Revival - August 15, 2012 (SunsetBlvd79's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Jessica Lea Patty (alt Eva Perón), Ricky Martin (Che), Michael Cerveris (Perón), Max von Essen (Magaldi), Rachel Potter (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Beautiful HD capture of Jessica in the role of Eva with a fresh take on the character. She brings a great element to Eva, since she is normally in an ensemble track, her dancing flourishes with perfection! A Evita - Nashville, Tennessee - September 13, 2016 (SunsetBlvd79's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Eden Espinosa (Eva Perón), Ben Crawford (Che), Anthony Crivello (Perón), René Millán (Magaldi), Mia Rose Lynn (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Excellent HD capture of the new production by Studio Tenn & TPAC. This was a huge show with a very large cast. Some terrific staging moments and of course Eden did a fantastic job as Eva, beautiful production! A Evita - Netherlands - May 22, 1996 (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Pia Douwes (Eva Perón), Bill van Dijk (Che), Jeroen Phaff (Perón), Frans Limburg (Magaldi), Marleen van der Loo (Perón's Mistress) Evita - Netherlands (2008) - 2008 (Highlights) FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Marjolein Teepen (alt Eva Perón), Stanley Burleson (Che), Roberto de Groot (Perón), Paul Walthaus (Magaldi), Loes Worm (u/s Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Highlights: in total 1h 28min Evita - Regent's Park Open Air Theatre - September, 2019 (hitmewithyourbethshot's master) FORMAT:  MTS CAST: Samantha Pauly (Eva Perón), Trent Saunders (Che), Ektor Rivera (Perón), Adam Pearce (Magaldi), Frances Mayli McCann (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: A Stellar Video of this Cast, slightly washed out with zero obstructions and plenty of wides and zooms. Released in 4 MTS Files with a cast list - 13.55 GB Evita - Second National Tour - September, 1982 (Highlights) (Pro-Shot's master) FORMAT:  MP4 (HD) CAST: Valerie Perri (Eva Perón), John Herrera (Che), Robert Dalton (Perón), Peter Marinos (Magaldi), Cynthia Simpson (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Valerie Perri (Eva Peron), John Herrera (Che), Robert Alton (Juan Peron), Peter Marinos (Magaldi), Cynthia Simpson (Peron's Mistress). Professionally Shot footage of tech run of tour's opening at The Shubert in Chicago. Starts with "Eva, Beware Of The City" and goes through end of "Waltz For Eva And Che". Does not contain all numbers, but does have most. A- This is a single camera video recording with occasional zooms that is a little over an hour of Hal Prince directing the second national tour of Evita during a final dress rehearsal. It is fascinating to hear Prince give direction while watching the show and a great piece of theatre history. Evita - Seventh National Tour - September 22, 2013 (SunsetBlvd79's master) FORMAT:  VOB (no smalls) (SD) CAST: Caroline Bowman (Eva Perón), Josh Young (Che), Sean MacLaughlin (Perón), Christopher Johnstone (Magaldi), Krystina Alabado (Perón's Mistress) NOTES: Beautiful HD capture with no obstructions. Josh and Caroline do a great job as Che and Eva. A solid tour, great performances and production value! A+ Evita - Seventh National Tour - December 14, 2013 FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Caroline Bowman (Eva Perón), John Riddle (u/s Che), Sean MacLaughlin (Perón), Christopher Johnstone (Magaldi), Krystina Alabado (Perón's Mistress)

Evita - Sixth National Tour - August 7, 2005 FORMAT:  VOB (no smalls) (SD) CAST: Kathy Voytko (Eva Perón), Bradley Dean (Che), Philip Hernandez (Perón), Gabriel Burrafato (Magaldi), Kate Manning (Perón's Mistress) Evita - Village Players, Toledo Ohio - 1991 FORMAT:  VOB (with smalls) (SD) CAST: Hunter Foster (Che), Sutton Foster (Perón's Mistress)

[ask-stjerne-and-logan]

BaFS Fanfiction: Chapter 5: The Clouds Remain.

It was a matter of minutes before they reached Ozpin's office. Once they did, Ozpin sat down in his chair with an agitated look. The fact that He seemed suddenly worried about something, surprised Glynda and Qrow.

"Oz? Are you alright?" Qrow asked.

"I'm....I'm sorry. It's something that bothered me since we came back." Ozpin shook his head.

"You said it was Stjerne?" Glynda asked.

"Yes. It's her powers of Virgo. I think they are starting to awaken." Ozpin answered.

"What?" Qrow seemed surprised.

"But I thought you said that the powers don't awaken until the user is of the age of maturity." Glynda stated.

"In a normal case, yes. However, the circumstances with Stjerne have proven this to be an abnormal case." Ozpin clarified.

"How so?" Qrow asked.

"You all know that I told you that the powers of Virgo will pass on to the next person destined to receive them." Ozpin started.

"Right. You said that the destined receiver will bear a mark on the wrist of their non-dominent hand." Glynda said.

"And the mark either takes form of the constellation of Orion or Virgo, depending on the descendent." Qrow filled in.

"Along with the fact that these powers will pass on from the old user to the receiver upon his or her age of maturity, as I mentioned before." Glynda finished.

"Correct. Among the regular circumstances, there have been some extremely rare instances where the power passes on to the destined receiver at a very early age. Most of the times, the circumstance has proven to be death to the user, and an early transfer of the powers. If not trained, these powers will prove to be unruly and dangerous. Such is the reason why Ōrajios are given to the receiver upon their age of maturity." Ozpin explained.

"So? Let's give Stjerne an Ōrajio and there's nothing to be nothing to worry about, right?" Qrow suggested.

"It's not as simple as that Qrow." Ozpin shook his head, "If we give Stjerne an Ōrajio now, we may end up crippling her powers which would eventually lead to her aura."

"How would that happen?" Glynda asked, "Stjerne had just managed to activate lightning dust while we were in that store. I noticed at the last minute when we were getting the groceries. By the looks of it, she managed to do it without touching the crystal."

"Wait, seriously?" Qrow seemed surprised.

"That sounds more like she triggered her aura instead. Then again most dust is purified, and the powers of Virgo are passively connected to aura...." Ozpin said thoughtfully, "Anyway, Ōrajios are very powerful objects, made with unpurified dust of every type. Dust is triggered by Aura, but in this case, the dust is attracted to the powers and will dull their ability to activate. In our case, the dust will do more then dull Stjerne's powers; It will dull and weaken her aura, feeding off of it until she has no more aura to spare. Her powers will be crippled and her aura would be rendered deformed. If this happens, Stjerne will get ill and possibly die from it even." Ozpin answered.

"No." Glynda gasped, clearly horrified.

"Oz, are you serious?" Qrow was just as scared.

"Unfortunately yes." Ozpin nodded grimly, "The reason Ōrajios are given to the receiver on their age of maturity, is because they will have been trained to generate more aura, enough to keep themselves alive, and to keep it from the jewel itself."

"So, we would have to train her and keep an eye on Stjerne while she is this young?" Glynda asked.

"Yes." Ozpin nodded grimly

"You're going to train her, right?" Qrow asked.

"Well, I trained Saffron. I'm sure I can train Stjerne. I'll keep her in my office during the school day, where I can keep an eye on her. I'll squeeze some training in here and there." Ozpin said.

"Sounds adequate. But I don't know if it's possible to keep Stjerne in your office all the time." Glynda commented.

"Other times, she can stay in the lounge, her room, my room downstairs, and other places where the students won't see her and ask questions." Ozpin said.

"Heh. Well you look like you got things under control now!" Qrow grinned.

"Well, now I do." Ozpin remarked.

"The other teachers and I can watch her when we aren't working." Glynda suggested.

"Thank you. That will be most convenient." Ozpin sat back, feeling very relieved that this problem had been settled.

"Heh. We better get back down before Stjerne gives Pete a heart attack and sends Barty into a panic." Qrow suggested.

"Right. Let's go." Ozpin agreed and stood up. The three teachers then made their way back to the lounge.

---------

Oobleck had started a game of hide and seek in the lounge, which proved to be an unfair game to the two professors. Being a grown men, there weren't many hiding places. It was easy for Port to find Oobleck, who had tried pretending to be a lamp. On the other hand, Stjerne was small and could easily hide anywhere that fitted her. In this case, she chose to hide in an air vent, located in the wall near the door. The grate was black, with long thin steel bars running across the frame. Stjerne lied down on her stomach, quietly giggling as the two professors looked everywhere to try and find her.

"She can't have gone far." Oobleck remarked, checking inside the closet. Port checked under a chair and ended up hitting his head.

"What are you two doing now?" Glynda asked as she walked in. The door covered the sight of the vent.

"We were playing hide and seek with Stjerne and now we can't find her." Port stood up, dusting himself off.

"We had no idea she was that good. She could be anywhere." Oobleck nodded, looking in the oven.

"I'm not sure you're gonna find Stjerne in an oven. She should be old enough to determine safe places to hide." Qrow laughed.

"Well, I hope she turns up soon." Ozpin grinned.

"I give up. You Barty?" Port threw up his hands in defeat. Oobleck zipped over and nodded in agreement.

"Stjerne, come out! We give up!" He called. Upon hearing this, Stjerne pushed her hardest against the grate but it wouldn't budge. Her socks slid on the metal in the vent. She kept trying but kept slipping.

"Help!" She called. The teachers turned their heads at the noise.

"Stjerne? Where are you?" Glynda asked.

"In here! In the vent by the door!" Stjerne yelled. Glynda closed the door to see Stjerne pushing against the vent, her hands holding onto the grate.

"How in the world did you manage to hide in there?" Ozpin leaned over his cane, an amused smile on his lips.

"I pulled the grate out and slid in. Then I pulled it back over again. I thought it would be easy to get out." Stjerne explained.

"Well, next time you might want to consider your options on where to hide." Glynda said, using her telekinesis to pull the grate out a again. Stjerne fell out with a thud and stood up, dusting herself off.

"Look at you. You have dust all over you dress now." Glynda scolded.

"Sorry." Stjerne said timidly.

"It's fine. Why don't we see what kind of clothes you have to wear." Glynda suggested.

"We left that suitcase on her bed in her room Glynda." Qrow sipped from his flask.

"Alright. We'll be back in a few minutes." Glynda walked out of the room, Stjerne close behind.

"Heh. While I'm here, let's have a poker party guys!" Qrow suggested.

"That sounds like a fun idea for tonight." Ozpin agreed.

"Well, we may as well." Oobleck grinned, "who's getting the beer?"

"I'll fly back to Vale and see what I can get. Anything else?" Qrow moved closer to an open window.

"Hm...what about pretzels and nuts?" Port suggested.

"Better get something for the girls. Ice cream and cake perhaps?" Ozpin suggested, thinking of Glynda, Peach and Stjerne.

"Heh. Sounds good. Be back in 15 minutes." Qrow jumped out the window and changed into his crow form, flying off into the distance.

"Well, who has the poker set?" Ozpin asked.

"It's in my room. I'll go get it." Oobleck zipped out of the room.

"So, are we playing strip poker, or?" Port asked.

"Peter Port, we have a 6 year old girl with us. We cannot expose such explicit subjects like this to her at her age." Ozpin scolded.

"Oh. Sorry." Peter blushed.

"We'll play for money." Ozpin grinned.

"Ugh...do we have to?" Port groaned. Out of the 4 men that played poker in that group, Port was the worst. He claimed to be good at first, but after losing some games to his companions, it was clear to see that Port was a terrible poker player, and an even worse gambler. Oobleck, in the mean time, came back with the poker set and a deck of cards.

"So, what game are we playing? For money or Strip?" He grinned.

"Money. While Stjerne is with us, we'll have to refrain from playing strip poker." Ozpin announced.

"Well, at least I can deal with playing for money!!!" Oobleck cheered.

"Ugh. Now I can't get those rounds I need for My Blunderbuss." Port groaned.

________________________________________________________________________________

Two hours later, the group was still playing. Peach was still sitting on the couch, eating the ice cream Qrow had bought. Glynda and Stjerne were sitting on the ground, in front of the table near the couch, playing a game of Apology. Stjerne was close to winning, as she had nearly all of her green tokens in her home base.

"Ha ha! See if you can beat me, Glynda!" Stjerne cackled as Glynda rolled her dice.

"Fine. If that's how you want to play!" Glynda used her telekinese to roll her dice, which ended up being a 3 and a 2. Glynda made her move and got one of her pieces into her base, leaving only two pieces left.

"There." She grinned smugly.

"Heh." Stjerne grinned and rolled her dice, which ended up as being a 5 and a 6. She made her move on her last piece and made it to the final base.

"Apology!" Stjerne cheered.

"Ack! Please be a little more quiet over there, will you?" Port asked.

"Sorry Peter." Glynda called.

"Whats going on over there?" Stjerne asked.

"Oh, the rest of those dolts are gambling on their game of Poker." Glynda sighed.

"I bet you can beat them in a game of Poker! With your telekinese, you can easily beat them!" Stjerne exclaimed.

"Telekinesis isn't the same as telepathy. There's a difference." Glynda explained, putting the board away.

"Still. Maybe you can beat them!"

"Hm. Maybe. If they let me play." Glynda said thoughtfully, "for now, why don't you go see what they're up to."

"Okay!" She agreed. Glynda stood up and pulled her wallet out. She decided to gamble. Normally she didn't like gambling but she couldn't resist placing a bet every now and then.

"Mind if I join in?" She asked, casually.

"Hm. If you want. But can you wait until this game is over?" Ozpin asked.

"Sure." Glynda sat in a chair and watched them. Stjerne came over and stood near Ozpin. She couldn't really see what was going on, so she stood on her toes, trying to get a glimpse. Ozpin noticed and layed his cards down, hoisting Stjerne onto his lap.

"You can sit here for the time being. Don't help them cheat though" He said, a smile playing on his lips.

"I won't." Stjerne promised. The game went on for a few minutes and finally, Ozpin won the match.

"Ohh! Good one!" Oobleck grinned.

"Heh. I'm flushed out." Qrow shrugged, folding.

"That's it. I quit." Port folded and walked away. A good half of his money was still on the table.

"Alright. I'll take Peter's place." Glynda sat down between Ozpin and Oobleck. The game started and was getting pretty intense, until it came to the final round. Glynda had managed to get Oobleck knocked out of the game, and was now facing off against Ozpin. After a few tense minutes, each showed their cards. Ozpin had a royal flush, while Glynda had a pair of Aces, knocking Ozpin out.

"Good game Glynda." Ozpin shook her hand.

"Beginners luck I suppose." Glynda shook his hand and took the lien that was on the table.

"Well, what should we play next?" Oobleck asked, "How about Remnant, the game?"

"I could go for a good game." Qrow nodded. Oobleck grabbed the game down from the shelf.

"Haha! I'll be Vacuo, as always."

"Minstral for me." Qrow grinned.

"I'll be Vale." Ozpin grinned.

"What is it with you men and that game?" Glynda shook her head.

"Come on Glynda. It's fun! Even Tai plays." Qrow spoke up.

"Can I watch?" Stjerne asked.

"Of course." Ozpin consented.

"I guess I'm stuck with Atlas then." Oobleck set up the game.

The three teachers and one huntsmen sat around the table, the cards dealt out and pieces set up. Stjerne still sat on Ozpin's lap, watching him play. There was some tense battling between the kingdoms, Oobleck won a battle against Ozpin, and Qrow managed to defeat Port.

"No!!! How do you do this?" Port wailed dramatically.

"This is what happens whenever they play this game." Glynda, finishing some paperwork.

"Your turn." Oobleck said to Ozpin.

"Alright. What to do?" Ozpin mused. Stjerne caught a glimpse of his cards and watched him make a move.

"I shall deploy the huntsmen ground force against Qrow." Ozpin placed his card down on the table.

"Oz, you traitor!" Qrow said in his best dramatic voice.

"Looks like I get to kill more then 1/3rd of your ground forces of Ursa and Beowolves. Which I will use to make a frontal attack to gain more land." Ozpin said smugly

"Heh. Dream on Oz. You just activated my trap card." Qrow pulled out his flask and flipped a card down on the table, "Rapier wasp attack. If I roll a 7 or higher, rapier wasps will shot your huntsmen down."

"Don't forget that if you roll a 6 or lower, the wasps will turn on your forces." Ozpin reminded him.

"Chance I'm willing to take, Oz." Qrow grinned, rolling the dice. Suddenly a leg of his chair snapped and Qrow fell to the ground, the dice flying out of his hand and landing on the table. It was a 2.

"Sorry Qrow. Trap card foiled." Ozpin sighed, "looks like I win this one."

"Darn it. If it weren't for my semblance, I would have aced that roll." Qrow stood up and dusted himself off.

"Wait, what?" Stjerne spoke up, confused.

"My semblance is bad luck, kiddo. It can affect me or the people I'm with. The problem there is that it's on 24/7. I can't turn it on and I can't turn it off." Qrow answered.

"I didn't know luck could be a semblance!" Stjerne sounded excited.

"Well, I wouldn't get excited about my semblance kid. It's been a curse to me my entire life." Qrow shook his head, grabbing another chair.

"What other semblances are there?" Stjerne looked up at Ozpin.

"Well, there are several kinds. For instance, Professor Oobleck here uses a kind of speed." Ozpin answered thoughtfully.

"It's Doctor!" Oobleck corrected.

"Right, doctor. Sorry." Ozpin shook his head.

"Why call him Doctor?" Stjerne looked confused.

"Because I went the extra mile to earn my PhD for Geography and Archeology!" Oobleck answered proudly.

"Huh. I thought it was because you went the extra mile to win a marathon." Stjerne said innocently. Everyone burst out laughing at that. Even Glynda found herself bent over in laughter. Oobleck was the only one who deadpanned at this.

"Ohahahaha!!! That was good......" Qrow laughed.

"Indeed......" Ozpin gasped for breath, holding his gut.

"Someone please kill me!!!" Glynda was on her knees, banging her head on the table.

"Not funny." Oobleck shook his head and picked Stjerne up, looking at her dead in the the eye. Stjerne didn't do anything until she suddenly made a grab for Oobleck's glasses.

"Don't....touch those!" Oobleck dodged.

"I have to know! Are your eyes blue or brown?!" Stjerne protested, still reaching for them.

"They're blue. Why?!" Oobleck stumbled a bit.

"Because I can't tell! How can you even see in those?!" Suddenly Oobleck tripped backwards and fell to the ground, Stjerne still in his grasp.

"Okay. I think that's enough excitement for one night." Ozpin picked up Stjerne, who was still a bit feisty on Oobleck.

"I agree. It's 7:00 pm, and I think it's about time for you to get some sleep." Glynda said, straightening up.

"Awww..." Stjerne groaned.

"The faster you go to sleep, the sooner it will be morning." Glynda promised.

"Fine. But can Oz put me to bed? Please?" Stjerne asked.

"Well, okay." Ozpin consented after a few minutes, taking Stjerne by the hand and leaving the room. Glynda stood silently with the other teachers and Qrow.

"Well, I've never seen him act like this around us." Oobleck remarked after Ozpin had left. He had picked himself back up and was standing behind Glynda.

"I think I know why he does." Glynda said quietly, "Believe it or not, Ozpin has a father's love. He told me that he tried to show it through his duties as a Headmaster, but for him, it's very hard, especially since he has to show his authority most of the time. It doesn't show much to the students, and that discouraged him from trying harder. When Stjerne came into our lives, I think Ozpin is trying to show his love the way he wanted to. I think it's quite touching, really."

The other teachers thought quietly about this. They had never known Ozpin, their confident Headmaster, to have any sort of love of this type. To them, it was rather unexpected.

"Well. I must say I never thought about it this way before." Oobleck said quietly after a few minutes.

"Heh. Would explain why he's being like that." Qrow shrugged.

"I know. Neither did I at first. Just.... Don't speak about this to Ozpin." Glynda pleaded. Qrow, Port and Oobleck nodded their heads silently in agreement.

_______________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, Ozpin had taken Stjerne to her room and was helping her get ready for bed. She had changed into a night gown and had brushed her teeth. She now lay in bed, Ozpin tucking her in.

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble sleeping in your room from here on out." Ozpin promised. Inwardly, he felt a twinge of pain fill his heart. He hadn't shown these kinds of feelings of love for a small child such as Stjerne in ages. It made him happy, and yet very sad. He knew that he wasn't the real father of this child and that the girl's real father was high up in the heavens, watching and pleading him to look after his girl the way he would have. Deep down inside, Ozpin wished that he could have been the father of this girl, but he knew that destiny had it in a different way. He fell silent after he spoke. He quietly rose to leave, but Stjerne grabbed his hand and hugged his arm.

"Thank you Ozpin." She whispered. Ozpin seemed a bit surprised, but he smiled sadly at the girl. He hugged her and layed her back down.

"Just get some sleep. You'll need all the energy you can get for tommorow." Ozpin said. Stjerne nodded her head and closed her eyes. Ozpin left quietly and closed the door.

When he made it back to the lounge, he talked to the other teachers about Stjerne's situation.

"So, you're saying that we need to keep her away from dust?" Oobleck asked.

"Yes. If Stjerne has a necklace of any type of dust or any cartridge or round, make sure that it is disposed of properly. Since Peach mainly the one who manages our dust, make sure she knows." Ozpin insisted.

"Alright then. Keep Stjerne away from dust." Port clarified.

"Precisely." Ozpin affirmed.

"We should all get to bed. It's 8:50 in the night. It's best we get some sleep." Glynda suggested.

"Right. Goodnight all!" Oobleck saluted before zipping away.

"Good night everyone." Port said as he walked away.

"Well, goodnight Oz, Glynda." Qrow walked off towards his temporary room that Oz had reserved for him, whenever he came back from missions. Ozpin seemed downhearted and unhappy somehow. Glynda seemed to notice and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I know that look. what are you feeling?" Glynda asked softly.

"I...I shouldn't be like this. The girl isn't even my child, I..." Ozpin started.

"Oz. We talked about this. Whether you like it or not, that girl now looks up to you as her father. So it time you put your doubt aside and start caring for the child as if she were your own." Glynda said softly but sternly.

"But...I feel like I had taken Verusium's role away from him. He's her real father, and Stjerne never even knew him. Verusium would be mad if he saw me now." Ozpin shook his head.

"No, he wouldn't. Verusium knew what had to be done, and he did it. He did his best, but he didn't return. If he were here now, he would feel proud that you took the role as father to the child. After all, isn't it in every man's interest to see that he is a good and loving father to his child?" Glynda asked.

"Yes....you're right. I'm sorry. I just... I never before had the chance to express this love I felt for any child. She's so much like her mother. I feel guilty whenever I see her." Ozpin started tearing up. Glynda noticed this and hugged him.

"Saffron and Verusium would be proud of you. They both would." She promised. Ozpin nodded and stood up.

"Thank you, Glynda."

"It was no trouble sir. If you don't need me, then I'll be off to get some sleep." Glynda yawned.

"You're excused." Ozpin consented. Both the teachers parted ways after saying their goodnights to each other. As Ozpin lay in his bed, he couldn't help but think about Stjerne, and the daunting responsability of training her powers.

"It won't be easy, I know that. But...I'm sure I can do it." Ozpin thought. He feel asleep, more confident then ever about his task ahead.

-------

Here you guys go! Still can't believe I mentioned Strip poker of all things😫😫😫. Headcannon here is the they only do it above waist, so that should be clean enough. 😣😣😣

@phoenix-no, @saiyoyuutsume, @aquarius-power

[danceblades-a]

F A I. ( charming foreigner , beautiful stranger )

                             ❛  you’re quite beautiful, you know.  ❜  he hunches over her upon the dirt from where he’d pulled her down, a small blade pressed against her neck. might she have been anyone else, he wouldn’t have hesitated to cleave her open, but her scent reached him before the fullness of reality had, and groggy eyes stared questioning for a moment. they soon softened, and with it the urge to toss the knife aside came. it landed with a dull thud somewhere a few feet to their left, tossed carelessly at his behest.

                             the reason he didn’t apologize before complimenting her was not because he felt no pity for his own actions, but that the sight of her raven hair strew across the grass had piqued his wonderment. long and silken, it shone marvelously in the sunlight, exquisite as any precious gem. those few strands that still framed her fair cheeks seemed to fit there perfectly, like they were meant to be.  ❛  but you should know it’s not wise to sneak up on me while i’m sleeping, i might mistake you for a Noxian.  ❜  thin lips quirk at the edges into a smile, the sort that gave others reason to believe he wasn’t just made of ice and winter’s chill. that there were parts of him still capable of comprehending emotions outside the valley of despair and hatred.

                              for no real notion he soon found himself touching the strands of hair tucked against her cheek. they slithered away to join the pool below them at the slightest brush of his fingertips, and revealed a small bruise at the edge of her jaw. it was only partially present – a light brownish hue, but evidence of his trigger-reaction. it roused a bullet of guilt against his breast that left him less than pleased with himself.

                            he dipped down, allowing his lips to grace the surface of her injury for a split second, nothing more than a butterfly’s kiss. it took a great deal of restraint for him not to take her lips next, but though he was unusually open now, he still felt there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. not at least until you knew their lines were erased.

                            he smiled again and let a sigh fall from the part between his lips. he settled instead to bringing their foreheads together, closing his eyes as a sea of his saffron locks cloaked their faces.  ❛  but i am glad it’s you and not them. i haven’t been able to rest for some time now… so you’ll have to forgive me for striking before i got a good look at who you were. can i make it up to you somehow?  ❜

A light sheen of sweat covered Irelia’s forehead , her eyes wide and afraid . There had been no time for her to react to the sudden flurry of motion , the cold steel still pressed against her neck only gave her an awful reminder of her own incapability as a leader for the Ionian resistance . As she was pushed onto the grass , a startled sound was all she gave in resistance    —    the knife was soon tossed aside but Irelia remains still under Fai’s gaze , the light pain upon her cheek was all but forgotten as daffodil locks gently drifted down onto the ground around her && eventually settled .

❛    Noxian? You’re ... quite safe here . They will not reach you .    ❜    How her pulse rose to a volume as loud as the drums of war , pounding so hard that she had thought that surely , her companion turned attacker could hear it as clearly as she could . Fear , confusion , anger , embarrassment ; so many emotions clouded her head as the other gave his reason for the abrupt attack . The smile would’ve been awfully disarming , if not for the icy fright still running in her blood .

More than anything , Irelia was affronted by the comparison of herself to an invader . She knew little about the blond’s past , but his hatred of Noxians was something she could ... empathize with .    ❛    I’m sorry for startling you , but the sun has risen and it is wise for us to stay alert during the day    —    even if we are more or less alone within these forests ,    ❜    she murmurs . Her voice eventually trailed off as Fai gently traced the curve of her cheek . 

And Irelia was never the most closed-off person . Even though she was no longer the jovial child she once was , the Captain has never been cold or aloof even to strangers . The peck upon her cheek caught her quite off-guard , yet somehow it didn’t seem out of place for him . Seeing the foreign mage up close like this and in the midst of such intimacy felt like an uncommon opportunity , his kiss rarer than the most beautiful flower blossoming in wintertime amidst the snowfall . 

The sweet gesture didn’t quite soothe Irelia’s nerves but she was somewhat placated . His breath doesn’t smell entirely unpleasant as he spoke more , his forehead lightly touched her own .    ❛    Getting off of me would be a start ,    ❜     she replies dryly && with a hint of a smile , no anger present in her words .    ❛    I am glad you were able to sleep well . It’s quite alright , Fai . You don’t need to do anything .    ❜    Asking for his aid would be akin to asking a guest to help out in the household . Plus , she’s fast to forgive him .

[fuckyeahthomaspynchon]

He left the dodoes to rot, he couldn’t endure to eat their flesh. Usually, he hunted alone. But often, after months of it, the isolation would begin to change him, change his very perceptions—the jagged mountains in full daylight flaring as he watched into freak saffrons, streaming indigos, the sky his glass house, all the island his tulipomania. The voices—he insomniac, southern stars too thick for constellations teeming in faces and creatures of fable less likely than the dodo—spoke the words of sleepers, singly, coupled, in chorus. The rhythms and timbres were Dutch, but made no waking sense. Except that he thought they were warning him… scolding, angry that he couldn’t understand. Once he sat all day staring at a single white dodo’s egg in a grass hummock. The place was too remote for any foraging pig to’ve found. He waited for scratching, a first crack reaching to net the chalk surface: an emergence. Hemp gripped in the teeth of the steel snake, ready to be lit, ready to descend, sun to black-powder sea, and destroy the infant, egg of light into egg of darkness, within its first minute of amazed vision, of wet downstirred cool by these south-east trades… . Each hour he sighted down the barrel. It was then, if ever, he might have seen how the weapon made an axis potent as Earth’s own between himself and this victim, still one, inside the egg, with the ancestral chain, not to be broken out for more than its blink of world’s light. There they were, the silent egg and the crazy Dutchman, and the hookgun that linked them forever, framed, brilliantly motionless as any Vermeer. Only the sun moved: from zenith down at last behind the snaggleteeth of mountains to Indian ocean, to tarry night. The egg, without a quiver, still unhatched. He should have blasted it then where it lay: he understood that the bird would hatch before dawn. But a cycle was finished. He got to his feet, knee and hip joints in agony, head gonging with instructions from his sleeptalkers droning by, overlapping, urgent, and only limped away, piece at right shoulder arms.

When loneliness began to drive him into situations like this, he often returned to a settlement and joined a hunting party. A drunken, university hysteria would take hold of them all, out on night-rampages where they’d be presently firing at anything, treetops, clouds, leather demon bats screaming up beyond hearing. Tradewinds moving up-slope to chill their nights’ sweating, sky lit half crimson by a volcano, rumblings under their feet as deep as the bats’ voices were high, all these men were caught in the spectrum between, trapped among frequencies of their own voices and words.

This furious host were losers, impersonating a race chosen by God. The colony, the venture, was dying—like the ebony trees they were stripping from the island, like the poor species they were removing totally from the earth. By 1681, Didus ineptus would be gone, by 1710 so would every last settler from Mauritius. The enterprise here would have lasted about a human lifetime.

To some, it made sense. They saw the stumbling birds ill-made to the point of Satanic intervention, so ugly as to embody argument against a Godly creation. Was Mauritius some first poison trickle through the sheltering dikes of Earth? Christians must stem it here, or perish in a second Flood, loosed this time not by God but by the Enemy. The act of ramming home the charges into their musketry became for these men a devotional act, one whose symbolism they understood.

But if they were chosen to come to Mauritius, why had they also been chosen to fail, and leave? Is that a choosing, or is it a passing-over? Are they Elect, or are they Preterite, and doomed as dodoes?

Frans could not know that except for a few others on the island of Reunion, these were the only dodoes in the Creation, and that he was helping exterminate a race. But at times the scale and frenzy of the hunting did come through to trouble his heart. “If the species were not such a perversion,” he wrote, “it might be profitably husbanded to feed our generations. I cannot hate them quite so violently as do some here. But what now can mitigate this slaughter? It is too late… . Perhaps a more comely beak, fuller feathering, a capacity for flight, however brief… details of Design. Or, had we but found savages on this island, the bird’s appearance might have then seemed to us no stranger than that of the wild turkey of North America. Alas, their tragedy is to be the dominant form of Life on Mauritius, but incapable of speech.

That was it, right there. No language meant no chance of co-opting them in to what their round and flaxen invaders were calling Salvation. But Frans, in the course of morning lights lonelier than most, could not keep from finally witnessing a miracle: a Gift of Speech… a Conversion of the Dodoes. Ranked in thousands on the shore, with a luminous profile of reef on the water behind them, its roar the only sound on the morning, volcanoes at rest, the wind suspended, an autumn sunrise dispensing light glassy and deep over them all… they have come from their nests and rookeries, from beside the streams bursting out the mouths of lava tunnels, from the minor islands awash like debris off the north coast, from sudden waterfalls and the wasted rain-forests where the axeblades are rusting and the rough flumes rot and topple in the wind, from their wet mornings under the shadows of mountain-stubs they have waddled in awkward pilgrimage to this assembly: to be sanctified, taken in… . For as much as they are the creatures of God, and have the gift of rational discourse, acknowledging that only in His Word is eternal life to His Word is eternal life to be found… And there are tears of happiness in the eyes of the dodoes. They are all brothers now, they and the humans who used to hunt them, brothers in Christ, the little baby they dream now of sitting near, roosting in his stable, feathers at peace, watching over him and his dear face all night long… .

It is the purest form of European adventuring. What’s it all been for, the murdering seas, the gangrene winters and starving springs, our bone pursuit of the unfaithful, midnights of wrestling with the Beast, our sweat become ice and our tears pale flakes of snow, if not for such moments as this: the little converts flowing out of eye’s field, so meek, so trusting—how shall any craw clench in fear, any recreant cry be offered in the presence of our blade, our necessary blade? Sanctified now they will feed us, sanctified their remains and droppings fertilize our crops. Did we tell them “Salvation”? Did we mean a dwelling forever in the City? Everlasting life? An earthly paradise restored, their island as it used to be given them back? Probably. Thinking all the time of the little brothers numbered among our own blessings. Indeed, if they save us from hunger in this world, then beyond, in Christ’s kingdom, our salvations must be, in like measure, inextricable. Otherwise the dodoes would be only what they appear as in the world’s illusory light—only our prey. God could not be that cruel.

Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow

[thewebcomicsreview]

I’ve been cleaning my room!  When I moved out of the old apartment, I left my bookshelves to whoever wanted them, who turned out to be one of the people in the old apartment who was also moving to the Weeb House. When she moved out, I got the shelves back, and the circle of stupidity was complete. 

Nowadays, I mostly read kindle books, but what DOES the Webcomic Review Man have on HIS bookshelves  (No one cares) Fuck off, it’s my blog and we’re going through it anyway

Up top, we have Octopus Pie volumes 3 and 4, Angel Catbird, Circle of Blood, various Image comics, and Supermutant Magic Academy, which is great. I also have a large store of garbage bags for my opinions.

Next floor down is my educational shelf. Comics and Sequential Art, Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, and a space for Making Comics which is probably still on the living room bookshelf maybe. Then some art books (the one facing away from you is Zootopia’s art book), some DnD stuff, and a paper copy of Newt Knight, which I got as a gift at MICE last year.

Yes, I know my door needs to be painted, but at least I got the plate fixed so it can actually close now. 

Shelf three is the shelf of shame, because Homestuck’s on it. It’s not all bad, though, as it also has Life At Sea, which was a formative book for young Essay Mod, I Kill Giants, which is a great book and also a pretty good movie. Then some Images and Mangas I impulse bought, Alice in Wonderland but with a weird animu cover, a CM Punk DVD set I bought for some reason and never watched, and Cowboy Bebop Blu-Ray set (Who has two thumbs and no blu-ray player? This guy right here!)

Delicious in Dungeon is Good Content. 

Then the last two shelves are just kind of whatever. Solanin is really good, though, and I have a place to store my USB dock for now.

All in all, a weekend well-spent. Got my door fixed, my books organized, and finally questioned why there’s been a steel chair in my room for the last 8 months.

Now, I just need to get a framed Legend of the Hare commission to match the Saffron and Sage one...

[civilcoconstruction]

A Guide to Small Bathroom Renovations in Houston

Dreaming of a bathroom renovation in Houston, but don’t know where to begin? Start with this guide. 

It’s no surprise that baths are topping many remodeling lists these days. In Houston, real estate comes in a variety of architectural styles, from French Country and bungalow to Queen Anne and ranch. Plus, bath trends today cover a range of décor styles that are compatible with your home’s architecture. For those considering their own Houston bathroom renovation, here are the need-to-knows and items to plan for before you begin.

Sweeten matches home renovation projects with vetted general contractors, offering advice, support, and up to $50,000 in renovation financial protection—for free.

What are your goals?

For most people, updating the bathroom design is the #1 priority. Who doesn’t welcome a glow-up, especially in the bathroom? Modernizing dated cabinetry and hardware, and installing more stylish faucets are go-to options. So is swapping out a tub for a shower. Or, upgrading the shower with a thermostatic system with integrated volume control. Maybe your luxury shower dreams include multiple body sprays and a rain shower! Many homeowners opt to remove old, tired for a refreshed version. Another key focus in bathroom renovations is adding extra storage. 

What are your needs?

That’s easier to figure out. Who will use the bath? In a medium-sized bath, do you prefer a tub or shower? Single or double vanity? Take clear notes on any must-have features in your bath. 

Budgeting for a bath remodel in Houston 

To help you sort it out, here is what you can expect to pay in Houston, on average. Retaining the footprint in a mid-range bathroom remodel in Houston starts at around $15,000, up to $25,000. Costs will vary based on the materials used, as well as the complexity of installation. For example, a mosaic backsplash is more affordable when the tiles are installed on a sheet. Micro mini tiles installed individually will be more labor-intensive—and more expensive. 

Materials costs can vary greatly as well, with super affordable options available at big box stores, versus high-end imported tile companies. A powder room may slide into a slightly lower entry-level for costs, but again, it depends on the materials you choose! Read more about home renovation costs for Houston.

What are you likely to recoup in value?

Sixty percent, according to Remodeling’s Cost Vs Value report for Houston. Or, almost $12,000; based on a 5-by-7 foot bath that costs around $19,000 or $542 psf. This includes a new 30-by-60 inch porcelain-on-steel bathtub, new single-lever temperature, and pressure-balanced shower control, ceramic tiles, and a recessed medicine cabinet with built-in lighting.

How long does a Houston bathroom renovation take?

According to Sweeten contractors, construction time averages about two to three weeks. However: planning, executing, and finishing can take six weeks to three months—depending on the size and complexity of your project.

How to get the most bang for the buck

When your space is dimensionally challenged (read: small), and you don’t have the room or budget to expand, you still have plenty of options. One way is to create the illusion of more space, by doing one or more of the following: 

Use wall-mounted vanities and toilets.  That extra floor space opens up the room.

Another space enhancer: a solid surface vanity counter with an integral sink.

Install a wall-to-wall mirror behind a long vanity or an oversized round mirrors. Mirrors visually expand space. Some streamlined designs incorporate medicine cabinets.

A classic pedestal sink also is visually slimming. Modern washstands, usually in metal frames, are on-trend options, especially white on black. More traditional sinks with turned console legs offer additional metal choices, like brass or polished nickel.

Building in storage wherever you can tuck in shelves for towels and essentials. Recessed niches in the shower for shampoo and conditioner also are smart.  

Swap a tub for a roomy walk-in shower with an all-glass frame. If there’s a window, natural light will flow through, visually boosting the dimensions of the space.

Why should you consider neutrals in the bathroom? 

Many homeowners opt for white and beige in baths because it’s safe. But that doesn’t mean it has to be boring! Designers use a few tricks of the trade to keep neutrals feel fresh. One trick is the magic of tone-on-tone—but with nuances. (That means mixing different shades of neutral, from light to dark.) Another trick is to pair neutrals with different textures.  Get this look by pairing a dimensional wallcovering or an embossed tile with a polished or smooth surface.

Adding color to a bathroom 

We love when homeowners go bold in the bathroom and color outside the lines. Some argue that vibrant colors can take over smaller spaces, like powder rooms. But others feel that’s the perfect venue for bold cobalt or emerald, a spicy tangerine, or saffron. Precisely because it’s a small space, you can afford to be dramatic—and even splurge on faucets and towel holders, plus lighting and a fancy wallcovering.

Color doesn’t need to be limited to walls: consider the countertop or the vanity. Blues and greens—bright and pale—are gaining traction in traditional, country, and modern styles.

Comparing bathroom remodeling materials

Stone has some hefty competition these days from porcelain tile. Porcelain is not confined to small format 4-, 6- or 12-inch tiles. Porcelain comes in slabs, some very thin yet sturdy, which can be applied to walls and floors. And with digital technology, manufacturers are able to replicate some of the most desirable marbles (Carrara or Calacatta) or granites.  The look of exotic-colored stones also is available with remarkable authenticity.

Currently, matte black is a hot trend in faucets and hardware. Burnished and polished gold are also trending, and pairing them with black is especially chic. Mixing metals, like satin metal and polished nickel with gold also is more acceptable.

One guideline for choosing materials that are basically semi-permanent: Being on-trend (modernizing the classics) is fine, but being trendy (here now, gone tomorrow) is not.

Be sure to allow enough time

As soon as you have a plan, try to get through the selection process for materials as quickly as you can. Ask about inventory even before you place your order, so you’re not disappointed. You may be unpleasantly surprised to find that your favorite tile or stone, or that dreamy vanity you’ve got your eye on, will take an extra 6 to 8 weeks to show up. However, if you can’t imagine living without it, go for it! It may be well worth the wait.

Demolition and prep

On average, ripping out old bathroom material is a day’s work. It depends on how large the room is, and how extensive the renovation will be. For instance, removing a tile floor or wall may take a bit longer. Tweaking plumbing and electrical, which may require rerouting or new wiring, also is part of the process.

Installation

You’ve passed through the rough and dirty parts, and now you’re in the fun phase. When surfaces, fixtures, and lighting get installed (allow 1 to 3 days), take a moment to enjoy it! Grab some pictures on your phone to show your family and friends. 

Ready to get started?

Make sure your scope and budget align, talk to your contractor about any possible surprises or delays, and coordinate your material deliveries with your contractor. Have these in line and you’ll be on your way to your beautiful new bath!

Looking for a vetted contractor that’ll fit your timing, budget, and design wish list? Let Sweeten help!

Learn more about Sweeten’s Contractor Vetting Process.

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ADUs, or accessory dwelling units, can transform into home offices, living space for family or as a rental, or a retreat.

Sweeten handpicks the best general contractors to match each project’s location, budget, scope, and style. Follow the blog, Sweeten Stories, for renovation ideas and inspiration and when you’re ready to renovate, start your renovation with Sweeten.

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from CIVICLO Construction & Interior https://civilco.construction/a-guide-to-small-bathroom-renovations-in-houston/