#sound stage forest sets beloved

[talesfromthecrypts]

The Company of Wolves (1984) dir. Neil Jordan

[fieldofdaisiies]

azriel x eris | 4,3k words | warnings: none, mentions of violence | masterlist

For a long moment there is nothing but silence. Then Azriel closes the distance between them. “I want you to have my hunting knife. Truth-Teller has always been loyal to me, it should now serve you.” His forehead rests against Eris’, the prince’s hand moving over his own. 

“But it’s your beloved knife,” Eris answers. 

“And shall be yours now. At least for as long as it takes for the task to be fulfilled.” Azriel smiles. “See it as a…lucky charm.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“You do.” Azriel exhales. “What you have to do is not easy — ending your own father’s life isn’t. I have spilled a lot of blood with my precious knife, one more person falling beneath it won’t do any harm to it.” 

Eris’ hand remains atop Azriel’s, trembling slightly. He can’t quite believe that the shadowsinger is truly doing this for him. 

Reluctantly, they step away from each other, and carefully, Eris now holding Truth-Teller in his hand. With practised ease, he slides the hunting knife into his belt, securing it. 

Azriel can’t move away fully yet though. Even though Eris has donned a jacket, and looks once more immaculate, Azriel still thinks about the wounds that lie beneath his shirt and jacket. 

Softly, he places his palm against Eris‘ chest, thumb swiping back and forth. He sighs, his heart heavy. Eris places his own hand atop Azriel’s and it is as if he can read his mind. “I‘m almost completely healed, Azriel. Thanks to you. I will be fine.”

“Are you immediately going back to the forest house?”

“I need to find my spy, check on her, see if she is injured. If she is alive…” 

Despite spending time with his mate, and them finally opening up to each other, he has been plagued by thoughts of her well being all night. He has to find Cenka and that as soon as possible. She needs to be alive. He couldn’t live with the knowledge or her losing his life because of him. 

Azriel nods slowly, understanding flickering in his eyes. 

“Be careful and if you need something—if you need me, tug at the bond.” Azriel folds his hand over his heart. Yes, it is the mating bond he is talking about, and although he has no idea how they will go forward, if they will accept the bond, addressing what connects their hearts feels so good and so right. “I‘ll see you at nightfall.” 

This time Eris nods, and then watches in silent fascination how shadows slowly start to swirl around Azriel, then wrap around him until he is swallowed completely by them and nothing but tumbling leaves are left behind when he is gone.

The shadowsinger is his mate — the words still sound foreign, but after the night they spent together, the many kisses and sensual touches they have shared, it simultaneously sounds like a sweet melody within his mind. Within his heart. It sounds wonderful and makes him smile despite everything that is about to happen.

If they will end up accepting the bond is unclear, but at least the hate is gone, does no longer prevail between them and that is a good feeling. 

A good feeling that drives him forward, and makes the task about to come feel just the slightest bit easier. “Let’s head back to the Forest House. We need to find Cenka.” Upon passing him, Eris gently brushes his palm over Cerberus head, then each hound that follows, thanking them for guarding him, showing his gratitude to his precious pets.

Together they set out. Running. Almost every wound has healed, but Eris won’t risk it. Winnowing at this stage can be dangerous — he won’t take a risk.

The cool air wheezes in and out of his lungs, burning down his throat, but it makes him feel alive, something he doubted he would ever feel again the previous day. His heart is racing like a wild stallion, pounding against his ribs with every step he gets closer to the forest house. Most of his strength has returned, thanks to the Fae healing and Azriel’s help. Eris hand drops and his fingers curl around the hunting knife — a lucky charm. But it means so much more to him. Azriel gave away his beloved knife. He gave it to him. 

Branches of trees hit his face while he hurdles through the forest, only one goal in mind — bringing Cenka to safety. He has to get her out as quick as possible.

Once she is safe, he will get his mother out. He still has time, not much, but enough. It is still early and priorities can shift, and right now his loyal spy just matters more. He doesn’t know  what Beron did to her, or what he will maybe do to her if Eris doesn’t arrive in time.

He barrels through the wooden door leading to the dungeons and is immediately greeted by the stench of decay. Of death. Many fae have lost their lives down here, or have gotten their spirits shattered.

“Cenka!” he calls out the moment the door shuts behind him. Entering the Forest House undetected wasn’t too difficult. He knows the magic keeping it safe and knows how to break through it in secret.

The darkness doesn’t answer him.

Eris grabs a torch, holding it far away from his body, the flame at the top hitting a little too close to home. It flickers softly, but sadly Eris knows exactly what even such a small flame is capable of doing — the immense pain it can cause when used in the wrong way.

“Cenka!” he calls out again, sending silent prayers to the Mother that she is still alive.

Shadows danced along the crumbling walls of the underground tunnel, casting eerie shapes. Cells, empty or still occupied by one or the other enemy of his father, can be found on either side. The flickering flame from his torch barely illuminates the darkness stretching out in front him, but Eris sees everything he has to.

The dark stone floors echo the sound of his shoes when he walks further into the depth of this underground hell. 

Eris tries to level his breathing, but panic surges through him because there is no answer. 

He walks further, losing sense of time and space down here — the awful stench of rot numbing his senses and making every breath a struggle. Mildew and decay mingle with the musty odour, clinging to the damp walls and hanging in the air.

“Cenka,” Eris asks once again and is met with the sound of chains rattling, a faint whisper of a tortured soul that still haunts this place, but not his spy.

One more corridor, Eris tells himself. He has been looking into every cell, checking every single one for a hint of her. He can’t be the reason for death. Cenka doesn’t deserve this. He nears another cell, glimpsing inside, pressing his brows against the bars when suddenly—

A low, guttural growl reverberates through the dungeon, causing the very walls to tremble and shocking Eris for a split second. Right, his father doesn’t only keep fae in here, but also all sorts of creatures most of the inhabitants of Prythian think to be long dead.

He inhales deeply and steps back. “Alright, one more corner,” he whispers to himself.

He doesn’t want to give up. He has to find her. He won’t accept that she might not be here. That she might be—

Eris doesn’t allow himself to finish this thought. He surrounds another corner, lifts his torch to shed light through the bars of another cell. The faint scent of rust and blood mingles with the damp mouldy smell, making Eris aware that someone here is leaking fresh blood. She must be—

“Lord Eris!”

“Lady Cenka!” The breath that whooshes out of him is one full of relief and hope.

“You found me.” A smile graces her beautiful face, marred with scars and wounds, just like her whole body. Her leathers are torn, ripped apart in many places, but she is alive.

She heads for the bars, eyes surrounded by bruises, but still full of light and hope.

“I am getting you out, my lady.”

“Don’t you want to hear first what I got to share?”

“Lady Cenka, your safety—”

“I am with you now, Lord Eris, I am safe.” She presses against the bars.

“The High Lord caught me when I was on my way to you to share my news. It was a trap, he must have found out about me. I apologise, I always tried to be—”

Eris reaches through the bars, grasping her hand tightly.

“Don‘t ever apologise. I put you in danger, there is no blame on you.”

She won’t accept this, Eris knows this, but her chin dips a little and he lets go off her hand.

"I was going to inform you that Lord Karbaron rallies a group of Autumn Court soldiers to accompany the High Lord on his trip to the continent. That’s why he stationed your younger brother and his men at the border to Summer. So they wouldn’t find out about it. So Lord Zen couldn’t warn you."

A droplet of blood falls from her lip and hits the ground. She ignores it, her slim fingers curling around the bars of the cell door, when she leans closer. "The High Lord thought your meeting with your brother, Lord Kallax, is there to ambush his missions. Lord Kallax was meant to stay at his own war camp, but he decided to meet with you instead."

Cenka drags in a deep breath. Eris has never been more grateful to have her in his life.

"The High Lord went mad when he found out about the meeting, thinking the two of you work together and that you are planning to remove the troops from the border together. He also thinks you and your brothers want to riot against him."

Beron is not entirely wrong about that. Only that Eris doesn’t plan to riot against him, but rather end him.

“Thank you,” he tells his loyal spy, “now let’s get you out of here.”

“Where to?” She vigorously shakes her head. “I need to stay with you, my lord.”

“You will, but right now I need you to be safe. Everyone close to me needs to be brought as far away from me as possible. I can’t take any risks.”

With the flick of his wrist from the hand that is not holding onto the torch, he makes quick work of the cell door that opens magically and easier than he thought. He assumes with every day that his powers grow stronger, his father’s shrink…

Winnowing obviously doesn’t work down here, so they have to walk all the way back. The only problem is that Cenka can barely do that, she is too injured and so after asking for her consent, Eris lifts the small female into his arms, careful of his own scars, and carries her through the dark corridors. She is holding the torch now, providing all the necessary light that is needed to get them to safety.

Using all the strength that is left in him, Eris summons a protective shield that allows them to depart the dungeons unnoticed. 

His hounds are still standing guard when he emerges outside. One look at the sky tells him that not that much time has passed. He hasn’t wasted any time, and Cenka will be safe in a moment.

“To Spring.” He finally answers her question he earlier left unanswered. 

It is reckless and also stupid to winnow in his current state, but there is no other way. He has to get her out, and a little more time has passed and maybe all wounds have healed by now.

Eris turns his head to the side, thinking he has heard something, a noise that seemed amiss in the calm morning hours.

And he is right. His gut feeling never fools him. His breath catches, heart slamming to a halt.

“Hand her over!”

Eris' throat constricts so much he can’t swallow. He can only stare at the blade pointed at him, his knees almost buckling.

“Hand her over!”

“How?” Eris breathes, his chest brushing Cenka‘s upper arm with every breath he takes. She has stiffened in his hold.

“You think Kallax doesn’t tell us anything? You might be brilliant at keeping secrets, Eris, but that trait hasn’t passed on to the second oldest.”

Eris slowly starts to shake his head. He can’t believe that this is–

“Now, hand her over! I‘ll get her out and you finish what you have to do here. Get mother out!” 

Geras looks so impatient, so vulnerable. Every ounce of brutishness has faded from his features, and is now replaced by worry and concern. He sheathes his sword, looks over his shoulder, then back at Eris. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, waving his fingers at Eris. “To Spring?”

“You’re on my side?”

“If you think I'm on Beron's side, you are even a greater dumbass than I have always thought you to be,” Geras huffs and shakes his head. “I won‘t harm her. Not after she saved my pitiful ass a few times in the past.”

Eris has had no idea of Cenka even personally knowing his brother, so the surprise is quite obvious on his face, but he shakes it off quickly. “Thank you—”

“We are brothers, Eris. You don’t need to thank me.”

Carefully, Eris lowers the female in his arms to the ground. “Is this alright for you?”

She nods slowly, then smiles. “Put an end to it, my lord.” She slides her hand into Geras’. The Vanserra brother nods, and they are gone. 

Eris needs a moment to breathe, tumbling against a tree, his head spinning. It feels surreal, but somehow everything does so lately. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Beron wants to leave to meet with Koschei within the upcoming days — Eris will strike tonight,” Azriel finishes his minutes-long rambling that surprises everyone as he has always been the calmer and more observative kind of person.

"How do you know?" Cassian asks. “How do you know all of that?” The general braces his broad hands on the table in front of him, looking at Azriel like he is staring right into the shadowsinger’s soul.

“His spies—” Feyre starts, but Azriel cuts her off.

"Because I checked on him, and he told me about his mother and what Beron had done to him. After I had left yesterday—"

"You didn’t go home to rest?"

Azriel shakes his head at Nesta. "I had a weird feeling in my gut and went to Autumn."

Tentatively, the shadowsinger lifts his head, and meeting Gwyn’s gaze he can see some sort of understanding within the teal of her eyes that grounds him, and helps him keep his breathing level. 

“You had a weird feeling in your gut?” Cassian raises a brow and grimaces. “Whenever Eris is mentioned I have a weird feeling in my gut — it’s called nausea.”

Azriel ignores his brother‘s comment. He veils his face in nonchalance, straightens his spine and rolls back his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter why I was there, the only thing that matters is that we need to get the Lady of Autumn out and bring her here. He will end Beron’s reign tonight, we also need to prepare for possible turmoil within the other courts.”

“No one will be sad about Beron’s death,” Nesta huffs. She leans onto her mate’s strong body, tilting her head to the side. 

“But Beron is a High Lord. And a High Lord dying can always cause chaos,” Rhys explains. 

“Windhaven will be ready if needed,” Balthazar says from the side, having stayed calm in the moments before. Rhys thanks him with the bow of his head. 

Azriel turns his gaze from Balthazar to the High Lord, but finds Cassian still looking at him, with an eagle’s gaze. And within this gaze there is a hint of hurt.

Azriel can’t focus on what Balthazar said. His thoughts start to spiral because of what he sees in his brother’s eyes — Cassian knows that Azriel did not only go to Autumn because of his gut feeling. Cassian is smart, and he could definitely scent the Autumn Court prince on Azriel. If he connects all the dots, Cassian knows more than he lets show. Azriel has to explain to him. Everything. His brother deserves to know and Azriel also wants him to know. Cassian is his closest friend, the closest thing he has to family, apart from his mother - he has a right to know.

“That’s also why we can’t bring her directly to the Day Court.”

“We don’t even know if she wants to go there. Her and the High Lord of Day have been apart for so long, I am sure she needs time. She is losing her husband whom she has been with for centuries, beast or not, but she will need time to adapt to the new situation.” Gwyn‘s voice is loud and strong, her hand sliding into Balthazar’s when she steps forward. And she is right. 

The room falls silent. Azriel nods at her, and then words of agreement are spoken. What Gwyn said is the truth, they need to bring her and keep her safe and—

“We need to inform Lucien though. Being reunited with him will help her – having her long lost son back in her life will help her adapt to the new situation.” Feyre casts a glance to the small crib at the window in which Nyx is peacefully sleeping, one wing curled around him, his thumb in his mouth.

Her gaze lingers for a moment, until she looks back at Rhys who is already looking at his mate. “I will inform Lucien when the time is right.”

“Is he in the Mortal Lands?” Gwyn asks.

“Yes. With our sister.” A small smile appears on Feyre’s face, but Nesta’s jaw is clenched, her gaze sharp. It is clear she still doesn’t like the idea of her little sister being alone with Lucien, Vassa and Jurian but it was her decision and she couldn’t stop her - it wouldn’t have been fair because she herself knows exactly what it feels like to be locked in. 

Azriel keeps his eyes locked on Nesta and while he knows that only a year ago he would have shown a similar reaction, would have hated the thought of Elain being in the Mortal Lands with Lucien, he feels nothing now. He isn’t exactly happy for them, but also not sad, or mad. Or jealous. Azriel isn’t particularly fond of Lucien, but deep within his heart he knows the emissary is a good male, and deserves to be happy with Elain. 

And Elain deserves a male like Lucien. And now that she wants to get to know her mate, she should do so. She has every right to do so and if she finally feels comfortable with spending time with him, no one should hinder her from going her own way.

The conversation moves on, and they discuss when it will be the right time to inform Helion and if they even have a right to do so as they had found about it on their own accord and not because either party told them. They wouldn’t have told Lucien either, but the clever fox had somehow figured it out himself and then they put the cards on the table.

Throughout the whole time Azriel feels Cassian’s gaze on him, sharp and piercing, questioning. Now isn’t the right time to explain, too many people are present and when Azriel opens up to his brother, he wants to be alone with him. 

And so he tries to participate in the conversation, adding some things here and there, but not letting his thoughts about how Cassian would react get too loud. 

“I will get her out of Autumn by nightfall and bring her to the Moonstone Palace. It is all arranged with Eris,” Azriel says upon his departure. He is heading for the door. Feyre has already left with baby Nyx, Gwyn and Balthazar to Windhaven and so it is just his brothers and Nesta that are left. 

“We will be expecting you two,��� Rhys says as a way of goodbye. 

Azriel walks out of the still open door, feeling a sudden heavy weight on his chest. He knows that Cassian knows more than he thinks, has read him and his expression. But he isn’t ready to open up to his brother yet. It will be too rushed and when he explains it all to Cass he wants to take his time. It is too important to make it quick. Cassian is too important.

Azriel catches the door, his whole body going rigid, heart starting to speed up. He opens his mouth, but the general beats him to it.

“Az,” Cassian calls after him and slowly the spymaster turns to him. 

Cassian’s expression is stern, far from the usual warmth that normally graces his face. His hands are folded behind his back, Nesta standing close to her mate, her lips pressed in a thin line. “When this is over I want an explanation, and honesty from you, Az. You are my best friend after all, my brother.”

Azriel feels grateful about the silent understanding that passes between them in the seconds that follow, he slowly dips his chin toward his chin. “I will explain everything to you, Cass. I promise.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Eris Kian Vanserra!” Her wet, auburn hair clutch to her face, her fingers curling so tightly around her son‘s arm her knuckles turn white. “I can’t believe you are doing this.”

“He has to die.”

“Not killing Beron. I‘m talking about this.” Her voice is sharp, high-pitched.

“Mother, your safety is my priority.”

“Bullshit!” It must be the first time ever that he has heard his mother curse. “I am your mother, it is my responsibility to keep you safe. Eris, you are still my little boy and will forever be. I need to keep you safe.”

“Mother…” Eris mumbles, giving his head a small shake. “You have done so all your life,” he says and pulls her to him to kiss the top of her head, “now let me return the favour. It is finally time for me to protect you.”

“You have always done so, Eris.” The Lady of Autumn meets her son‘s eyes, and purses her lips. Eris watches how the wind blows her wet hair around her head, reminding him of leaves dancing in a breeze.

The wind grows stronger, and so does the rain, pouring down on them. A rainstorm is coming, the perfect weather for the task Eris has to fulfil. It feels somehow apocalyptic. Something is ending, so something new can begin.

Branches whip around them, grass bending with the force of the rain and wind that is getting stronger by the second. Eris hopes that Azriel will arrive soon and his mother will soon be safe.

Her worry and discomfort is tangible and Eris knows it doesn’t come from the weather. He understands her, but it is what he has to do, what needs to be done. If something goes wrong, she would be the first to be punished or worse murdered for always supporting her oldest.

Beron would let all his fury out on her, do unspeakable things to her and Eris can’t let that happen. He would never forgive himself for any more harm coming upon her.

Imala holds him tightly, silently sobbing into his chest in the minutes they follow where they wait. Eris only told her that someone would get her out, but not who it would be.

Shock ripples through her and she spins around when she hears the loud flapping of wings, watching a tall Illyrian descend behind them, leathers and hair sticking to him.

Azriel gracefully lands, and walks up to them, nothing but elegance in his stroll that under different circumstances would have knocked Eris off his feet.

“My lady,” Azriel greets and offers her his hand — they can’t waste any time. “Allow me to escort you to the Night Court where you shall find shelter.”

“Night Court,” Imala breathes and swallows thickly. “But Eris, you—”

“Please, mother, you need to go with Azriel.”

But the Lady of the Autumn Court is hesitant, of course she is, and stubborn.

“Please, mother!” Panic surges through Eris. “I need you to get out of here, and you know exactly why. Please.” He is begging, and finally his mother moves away from him. Only a few inches.

“You are careful,” she tells him, taking hesitant steps towards the shadowsinger whose arm is still extended. She clasps the hem of her dress in one hand, with the other she reaches for Azriel. 

She is an intelligent woman, she knows there is no other way. It has to happen exactly like this. Eris can only strike when she is in safety.

Azriel carefully gathers her in his arms, saying something to her that Eris doesn’t hear over the rain. Then the shadowsinger nods his head into Eris’ direction, and stretches his wings wide, feet leaving the ground.

He takes off, and Imala‘s loud wail rattles the forest, sending a bolt of agony through Eris.

Now there is no way back. 

His hand falls to Truth-Teller strapped to his belt, and he sets out for the Forest House.

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[sjsmith56]

The Fae Elements, Part 1 - Courtship

Summary: The appearance of a mysterious man at Sage’s father’s funeral has her intrigued. When he shows up at her law office and invites her for dinner her curiosity pushes her to accept the invitation.

Length: 6.1 K

Characters: James Barnes, OFC (named but not described other than 31 years of age), assorted other minor characters.

Warnings: I’m not really much into the fae world of literature so this story may not follow traditional fae lore or plots. I have borrowed from other mythologies to build this world. If you’re into fae fiction please forgive me if it doesn’t meet those expectations.

Author notes: The AI image of James Barnes was created by the author using Microsoft Copilot app, in Designer mode. This first part sets the stage for the fae king to appear, realize the importance of the OFC, and to begin the courtship. Although he appears to take no for an answer, it’s not as straightforward as that as the next parts will show. A fae king has a reason for everything he does.

⭐️ 🌕 ☀️

All things have a beginning and an ending. We’re born, we live then we die. It is inevitable for all living things. It didn’t make it any less hard to bear while Matthew Hawthorne, beloved husband and my dear father was being laid to rest in a shady spot of Forest Green Cemetery, on a cool day in the middle of April. Two years of fighting cancer had taken its toll on the family but especially on my mother, Fern, who had nursed him until it was too much even for her. Now he was gone, and she was widowed, after 42 years of marriage, at the relatively young age of 63.

It was me, Sage, their only daughter, and the youngest, who first saw the incredibly beautiful but strange man watching from the edge of the mourners, standing under one of the oldest trees in the cemetery, a gnarled oak rumoured to be hundreds of years old. The man, wearing a dark but expensive suit had long, dark hair that was distinctive, but seemed as if he had always worn his hair this way. That, combined with the strong shape of his jaw, sharp cheekbones and muscular build gave him an aura that was both compelling and mysterious. His deep blue grey eyes were fixed firmly on my mother who had yet to see him. Neither, apparently, had my two older brothers.

I kept watching him surreptitiously until he switched his gaze to me briefly, making me look away in confusion at how his notice made me feel. Perhaps I was staring at him too much in a way that felt too bold. But there was no judgement evident in how he looked at me; rather, it seemed he was surprised and maybe a little intrigued by my interest in him. As the minister finished his closing remarks and our family said goodbye to Dad before the casket was lowered into the ground, I risked another glimpse at the man, who once again, focused his attention on my mother. The other mourners came forward paying their respects to her, and she accepted their words with the grace she had always displayed in both her personal and public lives.

Suddenly the man was there, next in line to speak to Mom, who gasped when she saw him.

“Buck,” she whispered. “How did you know?”

“I do pay attention to the world,” he replied, in a voice that sounded like the softest rainfall. “It was far too long since I last saw you both. He was good to you.”

It was said as a statement, not a question.

“Yes, he made me happy,” she replied. “I’ll miss him, terribly.”

“Of course you will,” he replied. “He was everything to you.”

Then Mom did the strangest thing, touching his bearded cheek with her palm, in a way so gentle that it startled me. I looked at my brothers, but it felt like no one else could see the familiar yet reserved way he accepted her touch. I almost felt ashamed for being witness to something so soft and private. He bent down and kissed her tenderly on the cheek, whispering in her ear so quietly that only she heard. Yet I swear that I heard a sound like the flutter of an unfolding wing as he hugged her. A brief vision of her being enclosed in the gentle embrace of a set of giant wings flashed in my mind as Mom smiled and nodded her head to his words.

“I will miss you,” she whispered back. “Thank you for being here.”

He stepped back then turned to look at me with eyes that felt like they were centuries old. Again, I felt I was being assessed. Perhaps he saw things in me that I was unaware of, even in the space of those few seconds. For a brief moment I could smell the rich fertile petrichor scent of a forest after a rainfall, clean and full of the promise of life.

“You’ve grown since I last saw you,” he said, in that soft voice again, offering me his hand. His gaze was steady on me. “You also appear to have your mother’s gift. Perhaps I will see you again.”

With those words now spoken, he released my hand, leaving us to return to his spot under the oak tree. Other things caught our attention then and when I looked once more at the spot, the man was gone.

“Who was he?” I asked my mother.

“Hmm?” Mom looked at me blankly. “Who was who, dear?”

“The stranger with the long hair,” I replied. “He was watching from under that old oak tree.”

Mom shook her head. “Sage, I don’t know who you’re talking about. We have to get back for the reception.”

I turned to my closest brother to ask if he knew where the man was, and he looked at me strangely.

“What man?”

I wasn’t about to go through that again, so I let it rest and attended to our guests at the reception, receiving more condolences. It was late when I finally arrived home and parked my car in the underground parking of the apartment building, I lived in. On the elevator up, I slipped my shoes off, rubbing my feet with my hand as it was the world’s slowest elevator and my feet hurt after spending the whole day in those awful heels. Holding the shoes in my hand as I walked down the hallway, I dropped them on the carpet outside my door and fished out my keys, sliding them in the lock, then wearily picked up the shoes only to drop them again on the floor in the entryway. Immediately, I could smell that scent of the forest again and I turned on the light, stepping warily into my living room.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

I felt stupid for asking it, as an intruder wouldn’t answer. That’s when I saw it, an orchid, a pale pink lady slipper, at least that’s what came up on the image search after I took its picture with my phone. Planted in a small pot that was filled with moss, it sat on the coffee table. A small card was next to it, written in the most beautiful writing I had ever seen, saying to take good care of it. It was unsigned but somehow, I knew it had been left there by the mysterious man, an assumption based on the forest smell still lingering in my home. The orchid was unexpected, unsettling, and unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life, but I wasn’t afraid. After seeing how gentle and kind he was with my mother somehow, I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me. So, what did he want?

In the month after the funeral my brothers and I helped my mother with the necessities of settling our father’s estate. He had a will, leaving almost everything to her, except for some disbursements to the grandchildren, my brother’s kids, as I had never married. Each of us children received a part of his legacy, enough that we could clear debts, live better, or just invest for the future. We went through his personal things, taking pieces of his life that meant something to us. I took some flannel shirts to wear when I went camping as it was something I did with my father often, and some photography books showcasing the natural wonders of the world. In many ways my love of the outdoors came from him, as he showed me how precious life was. After all of us kids made our choices, Mom chose her favourites, packed everything else up and gave it to charity. Slowly, we got used to living without my dad around, although the grief we all felt clung to us in varying intensities, some days bearable, other days overwhelming.

I had never been in love, not the type of love that my parents had, something deep and trusting. Perhaps in wanting that kind of love I wasn’t too forgiving of perceived slights. That wasn’t to say that I hadn’t been hurt because I had, several times. But at least, I never had to go through a divorce, having never loved anyone enough to marry them. It led me to believe that I was destined to be the maiden aunt that people always talked about in hushed tones. Most people had at least one such person in their family; either a sorry individual who insinuated themself into the lives of their siblings because their own life was so lonely; or someone who gave every indication of living a free and easy life, unencumbered by the obligations of spouse or children. Since I had an intense job as an environmental lawyer, in a law firm working for various environmental organizations in the never-ending battle of protecting the environment against corporate interests, it was a trade-off that I was willing to make. But a part of me still longed for the gentle touch of at least a caring lover, one who could see past the façade of what I was and instead see the real me.

After a particularly gruelling preliminary appearance in court trying to stop a mining company from polluting a watershed that fed into one of the national parks, I went back to my office to finish some paperwork. Our secretary looked up at me as I entered the reception area.

“You have a visitor, Sage,” she said, motioning to one of the seats across from her. “A Mr. James Barnes.”

I turned to see the man, startled that it was actually Buck, the man who knew my mother, sitting there in his expensive suit, calmly reading an environmental magazine. I could feel my heart beating in my ears but pulled myself together.

“Mr. Barnes?” He looked up and once more those blue grey eyes pierced my soul. “Please, come with me.”

He stood up effortlessly, reminding me of a dancer in how he moved, as if he walked without impacting the surface below him. It was graceful, sensual, and just the physical act of moving sent a waft of that forest scent my way. I was self-conscious as I walked ahead of him, wondering if he was looking at me, at how I moved. When I opened my office door, I stepped aside to let him in first, but he refused so I went in ahead of him and went around to my chair, while he sat in the armchair across from me. For a moment my mouth went dry, and I couldn’t say anything, but he spoke first, in that soft voice that soothed me like a gentle rainfall.

“I apologize for my sudden appearance at your office,” he said. “I was in Washington for a hearing on some applications to drill for oil in the national parks, when I heard your name being mentioned. Since it’s been a little while since I last saw you, I thought we could get reacquainted.”

“I didn’t know you knew my name,” I replied. “Mom never introduced us.”

“That’s true,” he admitted, “but I did meet you several times as you grew up. It was also in the obituary of your father, and on the program at the funeral. It appears we have a common interest in protecting the environment.”

“When did we meet?”

“Several times when your parents took your family camping.” He smiled slightly as if the memories were good ones. “I’m fond of the outdoors. I think the last time I saw you was when you and your family went camping in the Adirondacks on one of your family weekends together. You were swimming so I doubt you noticed me.”

Considering how young he looked I could honestly say I didn’t as he must have been a teenager himself. Before I could ask him more, he spoke.

“I am with Gaia Life. Perhaps you’ve heard of us? It’s named after the Greek goddess of Earth, who was the mother of all life.”

I had heard of them, supposedly funded by a secretive billionaire who wished to remain anonymous. Considering the mystery behind Buck, or James Barnes as my secretary called him, it seemed fitting that he worked for Gaia Life.

“So, what is your name, exactly? Mom called you Buck, but my secretary called you James Barnes.”

“Both,” he said. “To my friends I am Buck, but to the public I use my given name. Gaia Life is my organization, my reason to exist; my contribution to saving the world.”

“You’re the founder?” I almost choked. He was one of the richest people in the world and he sought me out. He was sitting right across from me. “I thought he was an anonymous billionaire, someone older, trying to make himself look good with an environmental angle.”

“I am him, except I’ve only been involved in environmental issues. The making money out of it has been more fortunate than designed.” He grinned. “Not many people make the connection but I’m older than I look. I have … good genes, I guess. For the most part, I live a pretty reclusive life attending to the workings of Gaia Life, but I manage to come to Washington when I’m needed.”

“So, what do you want me for?” I stammered as he made me feel all flustered inside. “I mean, what can I do for you?”

“Would you go for dinner with me? I want to catch up on what your family has been up to.”

My mouth was dry again and I felt warm, too warm. His gaze was level, betraying nothing. It was just a request, nothing more, right?

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I replied.

“Why?”

“I don’t know you.”

He smiled again. “You just don’t remember meeting me. You’re Sage Hawthorne, 31, one of the best environmental lawyers around. I know you work hard and that you’re passionate about your career which is more of a vocation. I know you’re not married, because there was no spouse listed on the program of your father’s funeral and you haven’t dismissed my request for dinner with the information that you’re involved with anyone. I know we have more in common than you think. It will be in a public restaurant, and you can come on your own, leave when you want. Please, indulge a fellow environmentalist and have dinner with me.”

It was a little unsettling that he knew so much about me, considering there was little known about the elusive James Barnes. In fact, I don’t think there were even any pictures of him. The man was a mystery, virtually non-existent in a public sense. Yet, he showed up at my office and my mother knew him, apparently very well … until she didn’t.

“How do you know my mother?”

“I’ll tell you at dinner.” He smiled that enigmatic smile once more. “I knew your father as well. I respected him very much.” His gaze on me was direct and even though I knew I should be listening to my brain in keeping him at arm's length there was something about him that was … intriguing. “I’m no danger to you, Sage. Your secretary has seen me and has my name and contact information as she very professionally vetted me when I showed up here. I just want to have dinner with you.”

That refreshing forest scent was prevalent, and I couldn’t help but breathe it in. It felt like I was transported to the humid environment of a temperate rain forest, like the ones on the west coast; a clean and earthy scent, it seemed full of life and mystery.

“Alright. Where and what time?”

Barnes reached inside his suit and pulled out a business card. Borrowing a pen from my desk he wrote the name and address of the restaurant, Ardian, and the time on the back. It was the same handwriting as the card that came with the orchid, meaning he or someone working for him, had been in my apartment. I should have been angry, or at least concerned, but all I could think about was seeing this through. Then he stood up and offered me his hand. I went to shake his but instead he raised my hand to his lips, kissing it gently. Slowly, I pulled it away, lost in the sensation of his lips on my skin.

“Until later,” he said, then he left; quickly, quietly, taking the scent of the forest with him.

I was aroused, almost literally. When I started thinking about being with him, I couldn’t get the image of him hovering over me out of my head. Especially when my hand reached up and undid a tie holding his long hair back, allowing his tresses to flow over his shoulders like the sensual waterfall I knew it would be. With that vision playing on repeat in my head, I struggled to get through the paperwork before finally finishing. I had two hours before the time I was meeting Buck to get ready.

Much of that time was spent going through my closet to find the right dress to wear. Black was too severe, metallic was too fake, anything in a pastel was too summery and frivolous. I wanted to be taken seriously, not just as a woman, but as someone with a profession and a mind of her own. Then I saw it, a Diane von Furstenberg dress that I recently found in a resale shop, never worn, as it still had the tag on it. It’s presence there had surprised me and after trying it on I bought it. It hugged my curves in the right places, showed just enough cleavage to prove I wasn’t a prude, and the shade of green complimented my coloring. I put it on, smoothing it out over my body as I looked in the mirror, my hand going to the silver necklace with a tree pendant I always wore. Yes, I felt pretty in it, but I also felt empowered, and something told me that James Barnes liked empowered women. With that necklace around my neck, and small white gold hoops in my ears, I slipped on my nude heels then grabbed my purse and jacket.

The doorman hailed a cab for me, and I gave the driver the address of the restaurant. I had never heard of it before and wasn’t sure what to expect but when the car pulled up to it, I was mildly surprised. It was visibly exclusive, but not in a way that exuded wealth or excess, as it was tucked into a small building that seemed dwarfed by the towers around it. Its simple red brick façade was broken by a door and single large window that displayed a cozy ambience inside. Entering, I stood at the entrance, waiting to be greeted. A woman in black came out from the back, smiling kindly at me.

“I’m meeting James Barnes here for dinner.”

“Yes, Ms. Hawthorne, he told us to expect you,” she replied. “He’s been delayed but if you don’t mind waiting at the table, we can provide you with a drink.”

She led me past the other booths, as there were no tables in the open space. Glancing at the other people already there was strange in that many of the patrons reminded me of Buck. Handsome men, all with faces that seemed to come out of a model’s catalog, except I couldn’t even begin to guess their ages. Their dates, some men and some women, were just as beautiful, but in a natural way as if they came into their beauty on their own, and not with the intervention of a surgeon. Their gazes seemed to assess me as I passed, almost like I was being presented to a waiting court. Some of them nodded their heads subtly, as if acknowledging my presence. It was a little unnerving. We went through a door at the back into a conservatory. Filled with plants I noticed several species of orchids, including the same one that ended up in my apartment. Their scent filled the air with a perfume that was exotic. The golden glow from several candle-lit lanterns provided the only illumination, giving it a sense of intimacy. The woman stopped at the only table in the space, holding the chair for me.

“May I get you a glass of wine, Ms. Hawthorne?” she asked.

“White, any kind, please,” I answered.

She disappeared and I was left on my own for a moment to take in this small oasis. Returning quickly with a glass, she placed it on the table, then left me alone again. Nervously, I picked it up and took a sip, savouring the taste. Truly, I had never tasted any wine like it. Although it reminded me of a Chardonnay it’s floral notes indicated it was something else, something I liked.

“My apologies for being late,” said a voice as Buck entered the conservatory. I began to stand, but he put his hand out to stay my movement, slipping into the chair next to me. “Even I’m not immune to a flat tire. Is that the Viognier that you’re drinking?” I shrugged. “It’s a good choice. We own a vineyard in southern France that produces it. It’s all organic, no pesticides or artificial fertilizers of any kind. I think I’ll start with the same.”

The server came out and he gestured to my glass. She nodded, left, coming back quickly with a glass for him. He picked his up then waited for me to do the same.

“Here’s to the beginning of a friendship,” he said. For a moment, it seemed he wanted to say more but he smiled and sipped the wine instead. “I like your dress. It’s a Diane von Furstenberg, isn’t it? One of her signature wrap dresses. Beautiful colour on you and it goes well with your necklace.”

His words flattered me, more than I was willing to admit. A man that knew designers? It was making me feel a little floaty, with the romantic atmosphere, the impressive wine, and the total attention of this beautiful man in front of me. I almost forgot this was supposed to be a platonic dinner then the server came out with a salad for each of us and I realized I hadn’t ordered. With some confusion, I looked at him.

“Oh, it’s a set menu,” he said. “Vegetarian mostly, although we occasionally provide alternative protein if they’re from a sustainable and cruelty-free source.” My mouth must have been hanging open because he looked apologetic again. “I’m sorry, Gaia Life owns this restaurant. Most of our … staff eat here when they’re in Washington. When they’re not we charge exorbitant prices to the politicians we occasionally allow here, who want to court the environmental lobby. If we can’t change their mind, we make them pay one way or another.”

The salad was good, as far as salads go. So was the entrée, a pasta with a wild mushroom sauce that was unlike anything I had ever tasted. A thought came to me as our dishes were cleared and we waited for dessert.

“I’m in the environmental lobby.” We made eye contact. “But I’ve never heard of this place before tonight.”

He nodded. “That’s not unusual. It’s a special place, really. Something to remind us of what’s important.”

“You say us as if you’re something different,” I stated. His look bored into me. “Are you?”

Picking his glass up, he sipped the wine again. “If I said yes, do you promise to stay until I’ve told you everything?”

“As long as you start with how you knew my parents.”

He tilted his head. “That’s not the beginning though. Perhaps, I should start at the beginning.”

It looked like I was going to have to sit through something that was important to him. I nodded and he smiled, then said nothing. A moment later, dessert came out, a vegan chocolate cake with icing that I wanted to take home with me to have at two o’clock in the morning with a glass of milk. I must have said it out loud because Buck laughed, seemingly amused by my declaration. When our dishes were cleared, he looked at the server meaningfully.

“We’d like privacy now, Maria, please.” She nodded and we were finally alone. He breathed in, then out, and picked up my hand, seeming to inspect it. His touch was again gentle and somewhat sensuous. “I guess I could tell you how I know your parents, since you asked so nicely. I first met Fern when she was 21 years old, and on her honeymoon camping trip with your father, Matthew. I fell in love with both of them quickly, but they had already given their heart, body and soul to each other, and there really wasn’t room for me as well.” Wait, he met them 42 years ago? I wanted to ask for clarification, but he put his hand up and kept going. “Still, we became platonic friends and if anything had happened to your father when they were younger, I would have been there to comfort her. Their love stood the test of time, until your father moved on.” He hesitated for a moment. “Your mother will choose to move on with him soon.”

“She’s going to die? How do you know this?”

Buck’s face was sad for a moment. “All things die as all things have their time. Some have longer, some shorter. Humans, mortals have shorter. I have longer.”

Okay, that was cryptic.

“What are you? Please, don’t say vampire.”

I meant it facetiously, but he laughed heartily; a sound so joyous that it sounded like he really needed it. Then he became serious. “I'm part of something much older, more primal, bound to nature by bloodline and time.”

He stopped to gauge my reaction to his declaration. It should have shocked me, but my parents were quite the free spirits in many ways. We grew up being read all sorts of stories that had mythical and magical creatures in them; Minotaurs, fairies, elves, and the like. They were as much a part of my world as human fictional characters were. Except, I think that Buck was something more. When I didn’t get up and run out of the restaurant he continued.

“The forests in this world are all part of my home. I am the king of them, for they are part of the Earth. Those who you passed in the restaurant are some of my princes and their consorts, who can be mortal. One of them was one of my children. In real life and literature, I have been called a demon, or a spirit but we call ourselves fae. We are more than mortal but less than gods. I am the forest, and every forest on the planet is my responsibility but I fight a losing battle and when the last one burns, I’ll fade away. I will have failed because in our greatest time of need, I was unable to find a queen.”

The last part was said with such painful harshness that I saw the sadness laid bare within him. His pain and loneliness were suddenly evident in his voice and his eyes. After all the small but remarkable things I had witnessed connected to him in our short acquaintance I realized he had been preparing me to hear his story. In many ways we fought the same thing only he felt like it was his fault the environment was under assault while I knew it was the fault of others. Tentatively, I reached for his hand, then stopped. He faced me, with darkened eyes, a longing evident on his face.

“What happened to the last one? Why do you need one?”

“Even though I have been here on this earth for a long time I still have only so much time before I move on,” he replied. “My last queen moved on as the pain of what was happening to our kind pierced her soul. You see, not just any mortal woman can join with the one who is king. She must be one descended from the first woman, at least the first one according to most religions and beliefs.”

“Eve?” I asked.

“No, Lilith is what she is most commonly known as.” Buck sipped his wine. “She was before the Eve of Genesis and left the first mortal man who was written about, because he didn’t see her as his equal. He wished to control her as he wished to control nature and rule over it, not with it. Since then, the mortal men who write down the laws of many religions and belief systems have belittled and demonized her. We embraced her as our equal, as we were there before the religions, before the beliefs were ever written down. We just were. They called us evil because we saw the preservation of the natural world as more important than the comforts of ourselves, realizing that you didn’t have to sacrifice one to acquire the other. Although we were powerful our kind weren’t aggressive and we found it necessary to either retreat into nature, or to live as men do, hiding our true appearance. The female descendants of Lilith, had to hide themselves even more, taking mortal men as protectors and mates, which shortened the lifespan of their descendants. At various times they were hunted as evil. The history of this country has its own time darkened with the stain of their spilled blood.”

“Are you talking about Salem?” I watched his face closely as the pain flew over his face again.

“Yes, but every area populated by those who coveted wealth and influence had the madness. Even when refuge was found in certain communities once they came under attack we were forced to leave.” His voice was low and his eyes darkened, as if he had his own memories of the times. “They saw my kind as demons, servants of the dark one, when they were truly the ones with the darkness within. Even now their greed rules them, blinds them to the damage they cause. We are the guardians of the forests, the protectors of nature, and are not meant to serve alone. We’re meant to have a mate with us. But I’ve been alone for so long. My last mate, Daere, lost a sister to the madness, and it broke her. She faded away and I’ve been alone since, hiding my true self because most would see it in another less favourable light. Although I have searched for another queen, many of the current descendants of Lilith are unaware of the power that resides in them, or they choose to deny it, as they’ve been taught it is wicked and unnatural.”

“What do you really look like?”

I was intrigued by what Buck was telling me and although I had an idea in my head I wanted to know if the expectation met reality.

“Not entirely human,” was all he said. “But not as frightening as we have been portrayed in literature and religious texts.”

“Did my parents ever see you as you really are?”

“They did and were not frightened,” he answered. “But they were very open-minded and receptive to something different than them. Even though we didn’t see each other often, every time we did our reunion was full of joy. I watched you and your brothers grow into the people you’ve become now but it wasn’t until you saw me at your father’s funeral that I realized you had the gift, as I kept myself hidden to all there except your mother. You shouldn’t have noticed me, but you did. You have the blood of Lilith running in you.”

“She didn’t remember you,” I said. “After you whispered in Mom’s ear then left, I asked her about you, and she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about.”

He breathed out audibly then appeared somewhat sad and resigned. “I took myself out of her memories. It’s better that way. Her memories should only be of Matthew as she prepares to move on.”

It seemed like an admission of his love for them that he wanted her to think only of my father as she approached her final times. Which still left the question of why he sought me out. It was obvious but I wanted to hear it from his lips.

“What do you want of me?”

The words came out of my throat as my hand ached to touch his cheek. Almost as if he knew what I had just thought he picked my hand up, leaned into it as he placed it on his cheek, then he pressed his lips into my wrist.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he said, in little more than a whisper. He looked so vulnerable in the soft glow of the lanterns, the flicker of the candles sending shadows over his face. “I seek a queen, from the bloodline of Lilith, who is unattached to any other man. I wish to court you, in the hopes that you’ll agree to becoming my mate. I tell you this truthfully so that you know I have no hidden agenda, no desire to conquer you or control you. In exchange, I will give you extended life, longer than other humans, eternal youth while we are together, children who should reap the benefits of both of our bloodlines, and an opportunity to help heal this world of the damage done to it by greed and ignorance.”

Everything Buck offered to me was valuable, and desirable but there was one thing he didn’t say, and I pulled away. He knew immediately what I desired above all else and smiled apologetically.

“I can’t offer you love,” he said truthfully. “I have loved several mortal women in my lifetime and remember each one with great tenderness but also great sadness. Every time I have to say farewell to one of them, as they move on to the next realm, a piece of me goes with them. After Daere, I grieved for a long time and although I eventually accepted that I had to seek a new mate, I hoped not to find one, not wanting to hurt like that again. I should have faded away myself after a time, but I didn’t. If your mother hadn’t been married already, I would have courted her, but finding her too late just reinforced my belief that perhaps I was already too old for this world.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I truly was. “I’ve never been in love with any man, not enough to marry one. Still, I’ve been hurt, and I just feel that if it’s not possible to feel love for me, then the relationship is not a true one, not like my parents had. That’s what I’ve been holding out for, and I can’t compromise now, not when you want a commitment for so long.”

He sat back, clearly not expecting this response, as the disappointment was evident on his face. I did feel bad, but it was not something I was willing to work around. If he wanted a marriage that was also a partnership it would have to have an emotional component to it. It would be a lie, otherwise.

“Well,” he finally said, a grim smile on his face. “You are a woman of strong convictions. I admire that about you.”

“You don’t have to take my memories away,” I said. “I will not betray your trust and tell anyone a word of what you’ve told me.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, standing up and offering me his hand. He clasped my hand with both of his. “My sharing of information with you was freely given but your promise of discretion is greatly appreciated. May I offer you a ride home?”

“No, I’ll take a taxi. May I split the bill?”

Buck’s smile was amused and genuine. “No, I invited you as my guest. Thank you for coming, Ms. Hawthorne.”

The formality of his farewell was a little unexpected but, in a way, it was an acknowledgement that a barrier was in place between us. He helped me on with my jacket and watched while I left the conservatory. As I walked through the restaurant there was silence as the people who had been there when I arrived watched me leave. The woman who greeted me when I got there, handed me a small box, a piece of the chocolate cake, then opened the door for me as I stepped out onto the sidewalk. With my hand raised I hailed a taxi and went home, certain that I would never see James Barnes again.

Part 2>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging. Comments are also appreciated.

[bluebudgie]

You know what, if noone else talks about Unicorn Overlord's music I will. Someone has to spread this soundtrack.

Get a load of those tracks:

Farde Mal Diavolo - I heard you like bulgarian woman choirs? (*disclaimer I don't know if this is an actual bulgarian woman choir but the vocals are very reminiscent of the style of music) Alternative title: If you decide to listen to only one single song from this soundtrack make it this one. Please I beg you.

Heir to the Dragonlands - This one is definitely a fan favourite if you believe youtube and reddit comments. Not among my personal favourites necessarily but it does pack quite a punch. It definitely fits the situation it's used in.

Bastorias Stage - This is a map theme that plays while you're sending your troops across the snowy lands of Bastorias. It's just really pretty idk. I love the layering around 1:30.

Bastorias Battle - Difficult to show with the song in isolation but those first few notes hit hard when the stage theme transitions into this battle theme. I love how it flows with such an airy bounce while keeping the appropriate oomph for a combat theme.

Isle of Palevia - This plays on a tiny island and I love how the slow bells give the illusion of ships anchored in a harbour. You know the sound I mean?

Drakenhold Stage - Man, the strings.

Drakenhold Battle - Of course, my beloved. The favourite. The blorbo. Idk it's just sexy. Listen to it.

Elheim Stage - This song perfectly embodies what it's for: elves hiding in forests and ambushing you. Not necessarily among my favourites but I do like it a lot for sounding so... sneaky. Mischievous. There's something lurking in the dark. And it's a pretty elf in thigh-high boots.

The Holy March - Ok last but not least... I'm biased because this was a unique theme for my favourite battle in the game lol. A late game theme (if you stick to the intended chronology), it's pressing, it's urgent, it reeks of angels that need a beating. I really love that one, it set the atmosphere for the battle perfectly.

And there is more!! But I can't just go posting the entire soundtrack now lol. Check it out, you won't regret it.

[thebowerypresents]

Willie Nelson Brings Outlaw Music Festival to Forest Hills Stadium

Outlaw Music Festival – Forest Hills Stadium – September 17, 2023

You don’t so much attend a Willie Nelson concert these days as you conform to its warmly understated, sometimes leisurely, sometimes-invigorating pace. Then again, he’s always seemed to have that pause-a-sec-and-listen effect: Whether 30 or 90, delivering sad-eyed, tear-in-beer weepers, tender folk, inspiring hymns or outlaw country rousers, he’s got you. Hearing him play, surrounded by his adoring band, still has that time-stopping quality, and Forest Hills Stadium was in thrall to one of American music’s true and unimpeachable legends on a rainy but warm Sunday evening. 

The Outlaw Music Festival, a going concern for a while now, is Willie’s eclectic seasonal caravan, loading up a sprawling six-hour bill with a range of artists that don’t sound quite like Nelson but are at the same time just right for a show like this, underscoring his own lineage and place in the history of many potent strains of Americana. As ever, he and his impressive band crowned the show with an hour-long set of their own, setting a brisk but not workmanlike pace through his classics (“Whiskey River,” “Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” “On the Road Again,” “I Gotta Get Drunk,” “Always On My Mind,” “Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die”) and those of friends and favorites, including Billie Joe Shaver’s “I Been to Georgia on a Fast Train,” “Stay a Little Longer” from the Bob Willis catalog, “Move It On Over” from Hank Williams, and the immortal “Georgia on My Mind.” Willie’s sung these songs thousands of times, but each one still felt like a warm embrace, even the wistful ones, and even the ones for which he wouldn’t need to do more than go through the motions but is just too classy for that.

About the bill: There were plenty of willing conspirators and indeed, half the fun of a tour like this is the cross-pollination and spirit of collaboration that happens throughout. No less than Norah Jones — a surprise guest, unannounced — low-key sat in on keyboards for most of the Willie set. (It wasn’t even clear it was her until she took a few backing vocals and then a full verse of “I Gotta Get Drunk.”) Harmonica ace Mickey Raphael — a stalwart of Nelson’s band — joined for sections of earlier sets from Los Lobos, the String Cheese Incident and Bob Weir & Wolf Bros using a range of harmonica modes, from sawing roadhouse blues to sweet-’n’-tender folk. And as ever, Willie made his customary invite to many of the musicians, including a game and all-smiles Weir, to join in for the rootsy, hymnal “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” and several more selections, hootenanny-ing up the stage to close the night.

Weir’s Wolf Bros — one of the most interesting post–Grateful Dead bands and as oddly compelling a capture of Weir’s Weir-ness as any other group he’s been part of — got about 90 minutes to roam as the night’s coheadliner and more than made the most of it. The core trio of Weir, Don Was and Jay Lane has mushroomed on the road into a full ensemble, including Weir’s longtime swingman Jeff Chimenti on keys and ace pedal steel from Barry Sless, plus a sturdy horns-and-strings section called the Wolfpack. That bigness was well used here: “Jack Straw,” “Estimated Prophet” (neatly segued into its forever companion, “Eyes of the World,” which itself neatly segued into Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On”), the Sunday-special “Samson & Delilah” and a rollicking “Turn On Your Lovelight” were Grateful Dead staples all getting jammy workouts.

Earlier came a potent set from jam-bluegrass stalwarts the String Cheese Incident, somehow now approaching their own 30th anniversary. And earlier still came the mighty Los Lobos — themselves, whoa, 50 years along! — who played a ripsnorting 45-minute frame full of cumbia and full-boogie rockers, including the beloved “Georgia Slop.” 30 years? 50 years? So much beautiful longevity here, but the bar appears to be 90 years, gang. —Chad Berndtson | @Cberndtson

Photos courtesy of Silvia Saponaro | @Silvia_Saponaro

[ootyhoneymoonsblog]

Ooty Honeymoon from Palm Meadows Resort: A Romantic Escape

Embarking on an Ooty honeymoon from Palm Meadows Resort promises to be an enchanting journey filled with love, romance, and unforgettable experiences. Situated amidst lush greenery and tranquil surroundings, Palm Meadows Resort sets the perfect stage for couples seeking a romantic escape. In this comprehensive guide, we'll take you through everything you need to know to plan your dream honeymoon, from accommodation options to romantic activities and must-visit destinations in Ooty.

Introduction

Romance in the Air at Palm Meadows Resort

Nestled amidst the scenic beauty of Ooty, Palm Meadows Resort offers couples the ideal setting to celebrate their love and embark on a romantic honeymoon getaway. From cozy cottages to luxurious suites, the resort provides a range of accommodation options tailored to suit every couple's preferences and desires.

Why Choose Ooty for Your Honeymoon?

Scenic Splendor: Ooty's picturesque landscapes, including rolling hills, lush valleys, and cascading waterfalls, create a magical backdrop for romance and adventure.

Tranquil Ambiance: The serene atmosphere of Ooty allows couples to unwind, relax, and reconnect amidst nature's tranquility.

Cultural Richness: Explore Ooty's rich cultural heritage through its vibrant markets, heritage sites, and local cuisine, adding depth and authenticity to your honeymoon experience by booking Ooty honeymoon Packages .

Accommodation Options at Palm Meadows Resort

Luxury Suites

Indulge in the ultimate luxury experience with a stay in one of Palm Meadows Resort's opulent suites, featuring spacious interiors, modern amenities, and panoramic views of the surrounding landscape.

Cozy Cottages

For couples seeking privacy and seclusion, Palm Meadows Resort offers cozy cottages nestled amidst verdant gardens, providing the perfect setting for intimate moments and romantic escapades.

Honeymoon Packages

Enhance your stay with a specially curated honeymoon package, including romantic amenities such as candlelit dinners, couples' spa treatments, and personalized experiences tailored to celebrate your love.

Romantic Activities at Palm Meadows Resort

Sunset Strolls

Take a leisurely stroll hand in hand with your beloved through Palm Meadows Resort's lush gardens as the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and creating a magical ambiance that's perfect for romance.

Couples' Spa Retreat

Indulge in a rejuvenating couples' spa retreat, where you can relax, unwind, and pamper yourselves with luxurious massages, facials, and body treatments, leaving you feeling refreshed, revitalized, and ready to embrace the romance of your honeymoon.

Private Dining Experiences

Savor a romantic candlelit dinner under the starlit sky, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the soothing sounds of the outdoors, as you enjoy delectable cuisine prepared by the resort's talented chefs, creating memories that will last a lifetime.

Must-Visit Destinations in Ooty

Ooty Botanical Gardens

Explore the stunning beauty of Ooty Botanical Gardens, home to a diverse collection of exotic plants, flowers, and trees, providing the perfect backdrop for romantic walks and intimate moments amidst nature's splendor.

Pykara Lake and Waterfalls

Embark on a romantic boat ride on Pykara Lake, where you can cruise along the tranquil waters hand in hand with your beloved, taking in the breathtaking views of the surrounding hills and forests, before visiting the majestic Pykara Waterfalls, where cascading waters create a mesmerizing spectacle that's sure to leave you spellbound.

Doddabetta Peak

Take a scenic drive to Doddabetta Peak, the highest point in the Nilgiri Hills, and marvel at panoramic views of the surrounding landscape, stretching as far as the eye can see, providing the perfect setting for a romantic picnic or photography session with your beloved.

Conclusion

Congratulations! You're now equipped with all the information you need to plan your dream honeymoon in Ooty from Palm Meadows Resort. Whether you're indulging in romantic activities at the resort, exploring must-visit destinations in Ooty, or simply basking in each other's love and companionship, your honeymoon promises to be a magical and unforgettable experience. So pack your bags, embark on this romantic escapade with your beloved, and create memories that will last a lifetime amidst the scenic splendor of Ooty.

[churchrvb02]

Here's Chapter 2!! I hope everyone likes it!

Chapter Two:

Roughly 50 yards from where she stood, Blake saw Ruby emerge from the trees.

“Ruby!” Blake called back to her friend, tears threatening to spill as the two ran toward each other. So thankful to find Ruby safe and alive. The smaller girl leapt into Blake’s arms, who caught her deftly and effortlessly.

“I’m so happy to see you! Where are we? Do you think Yang is here, too?” Ruby rambled through emotional sobs - the culmination of everything she had been pushing down for so long now. Then she noticed it. Her beloved, her precious - Crescent Rose, fixed to Blake’s side. Ruby squealed. Now addressing her weapon, which Blake had happily surrendered back to its owner with a light laugh; “Ahhh! I’ve missed you so much! Don’t you EVER leave me again like that, young lady!” A short scolding from the embodiment of purity was a sight to behold. While Blake was able to laugh at the parade of it all, she had to make a mental note not to get on Ruby’s bad side. Remember, that girl is strong. Blake gave Ruby a look which conveyed her thoughts. Ruby responded with a slightly embarrassed but modest smile. Ruby was so cute it wasn’t fair.

“Maybe we can get a better vantage point from the top of that cliff?” Blake made the suggestion hoping to keep moving and maybe find Yang. Plus Ruby had started to stroke her weapon, and it was honestly getting a little uncomfortable. Ruby gave a nod, and the pair of them began walking to the trees, ready to climb. Right as they reached the tops of the first trees, a gunshot rocketed past Ruby’s head, barely missing. Blake’s cat ears had caught the sound and instantly the rest of her body turned to face the projectile’s origin. There, at the fringes of the forest where the sand met the grass, was Neo. She stood adamantly, with Gambol Shroud pointed into the air where Ruby had just been.

Ducking down to become a smaller target, Ruby yelled out, exasperated. “What do you want with me!?”

At that, Neo took off the hat she had and spun it around on her finger, hoisting it into the air for Ruby to see, Blake recognised it as Roman Torchwick’s hat. Ruby jumped back down to the ground and called out to Neo through the trees.

“I didn’t kill Roman Torchwick! I know you think I did because you didn’t see what happened that night, but I didn’t do it.” Ruby made her way out of the dense brush and came out with her hands up and her scythe on her back. Blake followed close behind, Neapolitan’s umbrella in her hand already, prepared to defend Ruby at a moment’s notice. So far she was going to follow her lead. Ruby reached the sand where Neo waited. Neo held Blake’s katana, the gold band glinting in the magical light of the island, pointed at Ruby Rose. She didn’t make any motions to attack. Yet. Blake acknowledged the single tear streaking the dust on Neo’s face, and saw the girl discover her own umbrella in Blake’s hand. Still the girl didn’t shake. Didn’t waver.

Ruby continued; “I know you hate me because I was there and took you away from him in his final moments. He did terrible things, and I won’t deny I wanted to see him put in jail. But I never wanted anyone to die! That night was awful and so many bad things happened. He obviously meant a lot to you. I can see it in your eyes. Please, stop trying to hurt me and my friends. A griffon surprised us and swallowed him whole. He never suffered, Neo. And I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.”

Blake listened with one set of ears as the rest of her studied Neo’s face for any indication of attack. All she could see was grief. Neo had been dealing with the anger stage of grief for over a year and it looked like she might be ready to move forward. Having lost so many people before, Blake was all too familiar with what Neo was going through. Neo dropped to her knees, the weight of her emotions finally catching up to her. Neo looked up at the girls standing before her and then pointed at her umbrella. She set Gambol Shroud on the sand in front of her and held her hands up at her chest, her head tilted downward. Still suspicious of any trickery, Blake quickly scooped up the other half of her weapon. Using the end of the umbrella, lifted Neopolitan’s head by her chin. Upon seeing the look of defeat and lack of purpose in the two differently colored eyes, Blake felt pity. She flipped the umbrella around and offered the handle to Neo. She graciously accepted her weapon and stood slowly. “Let’s work together to find our way out of whatever this place is, okay?” Neo nodded.

Blake would make sure to maintain a close watch on the ice cream girl, and to walk between her and Ruby. The small group walked together for what felt like three hours making small talk. Neo gestured and nodded, but mostly listened. Occasionally they stopped so that they could gather and eat more of that yellow fruit Blake had discovered was safe to eat. The first time they stopped, Neo waited until both Blake and Ruby had finished eating before taking a first bite. Despite there not being any visible source for the daylight, after walking for such a long time, the light that seemed to be magically present dissipated to dimness.

The group smelled the smoke shortly after they saw it rising from the tree tops. The light that remained was limited, but appeared to stay present from then on. It would seem this paradise never reached pitch darkness.The smell of the smoke filled the air. It was an oddly sweet smell, certainly the product of burning the leaves and wood from the strange trees of the island. Based on the pattern of the smoke in the air, Blake could ascertain that the origin of the haze to be a controlled campfire rather than wildfire. That meant there was another person nearby. Blake’s heart raced as she held out hope it would be Yang. Ruby looked behind her at Blake and she could tell that a similar hope had stirred inside the younger girl as well. It had to be Yang. Had to be. The only people Blake had come across so far had been those with whom she had fallen. She remembered that some twenty or so Atlesian civilians had fallen right as things kicked off, and Blake’s heart sank a little as the odds of the fire creator being Yang diminished. Ruby cut through the underbrush with her scythe and Blake walked with her head down until finally she heard Ruby shout.

“Yang!” Then, a short pause as Blake’s vision snapped upward, and Ruby called Yang’s name again, but with an air of questioning to her tone . “Uhh, Yang?”

Blake looked into the clearing now before them and saw her. Her partner Yang, who she had reunited with only to be torn apart once more. Yang was frozen in place, a coconut in her outstretched arm. The coconut had its hair tufted up like kitty ears, and its face appeared to be painted to have amber eyes. Yang had very clearly been talking to it when Ruby had called her name, her eyes opened wide in shock. Yang didn’t move, but then she saw Blake, and as fast as a lightning bolt, hid the coconut behind her back.

“Uhh, hey guys.”

END CHAPTER TWO

So I know it's short, but I had a lot of fun writing this! I think I wrote it immediately after the Volume 8 finale premiered.

So, going through old documents, I found the first 2 chapters of an unfinished fanfic of RWBY Volume 9 I wrote, from before we knew anything about the volume except the Volume 8 end credits scene. Literally one like on this post, and I'll post it here on Tumblr, haha

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (7)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au 

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary:  When you and your alpha rivetingly reunite for the Offering Ceremony, you are thoroughly twitterpated in his display of intent to you that colors your entire being with affection for him, but you will soon find that he isn’t the only one that has his sights set on you...

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of blood, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting, mating rituals and hunting 

A/N: What a ride this chapter has been. From the many drafts I had of the original version that went through various reworks before I initially posted and then onto the deletion of that from Tumblr only for an alternate version to be made in my efforts to better guide understanding of the story, this chapter has started from one destination and landed somewhere across the other side of the world. 

I hope that this version is easier to digest after the heaviness of the original and much work has been done to ensure that. All feedback that was given to me on the previous rendition of this chapter was greatly appreciated even if some of it hurt, so those who reached out, I thank you. I hope that you all will continue to let me know what your thoughts are as I thrive on comments and feedback that show to me what you guys really think about my work. Please make me a happy author and share your feedback with me on this revised version that I made just for you guys! 

Also, you will notice the gif I used this time is different. That is because that look is what Jungkook has somewhere in this chapter (because lbr here I am a slut for Black Swan Jungkook). There might additionally be an insert that looks somewhat familiar to something we have all screamed over, so that will be interesting to see if anyone catches what it is. 

For my readers that enjoy auditory stimulus while they read, I wrote this chapter entirely to Jungkook’s “My Time” and I implore you to listen to that while you read because it really sets the mood and perspective I had in the sentiments that I wanted to convey for this part (not to mention I fucking love that song like a child adores their favorite toy). You may find while listening that a certain part resonates especially deep with it. Bonus points to anyone that catches the special allusion! 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 8 Part 9

Suffering in silence amid the agonizing absence of your alpha, every second spent without him is dragged on by cruel hands of time that languidly pass with lethargy in the wake of the sun’s slumber.

 Despite the powerful paroxysms that wrack every fiber of your being, your heart paddles agog with anticipation while you wait anxiously for your alpha as your irises sweep like a whirlwind through the woodland in the distance in their frantic frenzy to find under their storm the bringer of the tempest of emotions that rain over you.

 The knoll erected just before the greenwood is certainly an insolent impediment that blocks and bars your sights from penetrating pervasively into the forest’s opening as you whimper in the damned denial of your mate.

 You hardly notice the profoundly proliferating mound of quarry in front of you that the same beta tugs and tows from the forest in an accumulating aggregation that far surpasses the small, sad excuses for the other piles of game that other betas pull from the forest in their lugging of the conquered prey of each alpha that they serve.

 The name of this particular one drifts away from your comprehension in the turbulent gusts that your alpha spews over you even in your separation that cloud your mind of all but him.

 By now, the sun has lain itself to sleep below the horizon and, in its place, the moon has awoken augustly from her own chamber to seat herself atop her throne at the sky’s crest. This night, she is tainted red with the crimson of the lifeblood within all creatures under her care in a rare occurrence that is otherwise known as the Blood Moon. 

Occurring only twice a year among the winter and summer solstices, the striking shade is symbolic of the wild impulses that drive all living beings and even the stars pulse like veins through the sky’s soma in their own frenzied palpitations.

 The moon’s subjects of omegas, alphas and betas all throng tightly together in clusters behind the garden of newly presented omegas that have blossomed with maturity, the cheerful chattering of all the wolves of your pack blooming around you in the warmth of excitement that spouts from them like water. You are rooted like a flower to the ground amidst the field of other omegas that have recently presented, your limbs planted there by the elder who had brought you from the woods.

 It had been an onerous omission on your part to abstain from hissing at her when her bony, knuckled hands had grasped your arms in the utter dissatisfaction that had erupted like a volcano within you in the urge to tear her off of you in the lack of heat that her touch- which had been so definitively and determinately not your alpha’s- had been incapable of warming you with.

 It had been so unlike what your alpha easily instilled upon you in his calefaction that rolled off of him in waves and, in wanting only your alpha’s hands on you, you’d had to bite down on your tongue to keep from releasing the noise of dismayed dissatisfaction and risk being begrudgingly berated for an unruly display.

 Once she’d ambled away, it was your secret that you’d pulled the furs your alpha had given you closer around you to bask in his scintillating scent, the pelt closing comfortingly around you to offer you some much needed incalescence while some, but not all, of the tension pressing down on your shoulders had lifts away.

 Niva, who stood behind you, had giggled as she asked, “Are you that gone for him, darling?”

 Your cheeks had reddened in embarrassment before you’d looked back at her to quietly mumble, “I am. Irrevocably and unequivocally.”

 You watch with bated breath as alphas begin to ascend from over the hilltop that stands to attention just before the woodland as you all but tremble in anticipation to find your own among them.

 They are all cleaned of the blood, sweat and tears from the prey they slayed and most are dressed in exorbitantly expensive threads that have likely never before been worn before today. 

They are donned under furs from which the alphas acquired in hunts years past in the aged, tanned colors of them all that are draped over each wolf’s shoulders as they come to stand in front of their designated deposit of game they have proudly procured in effort to offer it to their desired partner amidst the line of omegas that have been arranged opposite of them.

 It is tradition that the sins of death be wiped away from them before an omega's virtues of life can fully cleanse the alpha that would receive them.

 Incurring impatience is what has you whine out for your alpha that still evasively eludes your visage as you searchingly seek him while your wolf cries for the only one that could possibly quiet it as a familiar figure separates from the amalgamation of agglomerated elders that have accumulated along the west and east sides of the stage before she takes her place on the beamed boards that circularly coalesce into the timbered stage.

 Amidst the jovial jabber that percolates through the air, the lead elder, who is also your grandmother, raises her hands over her head so that the moonlight drips down onto her upturned palms as she shouts, “Children! Tonight, we commemorate the adulthood that our blessed mother of the moon has acknowledged in these youth before you,” the lead elder lowers both arms to gesture to you as fondness showers over her before she softens, “And among them is my beloved grandchild, Y/N, who hails from the purest of bloodlines and who has been the sole caretaker of our pups and livestock in her dutiful and devout service to her pack since her very juvenility. Let us commend both her and those she was raised alongside in this momentous moment!”

 There is a thunderous applause that bursts roaringly around you as exhilaration energizes you anew whilst every wolf in attendance animatedly hoots and claps with a delighted dynamism that has you smiling happily as the sounds bound through you with the liveliness of a sprite.  

 It leaps through you ceaselessly and when you breathe in to give it more room to prance around within you, that’s when your lips lift in gratified gaiety in the unmistakable undeniability of the scent of myrrh that skirrs insatiably forth until it has found and enveloped you in its mighty musk as you sigh with satisfaction at the realization as it wantonly wafts around you.

Jungkook, your precious mate, must be close by.

 The knowledge has your heart skipping a beat as your wolf bays amidst the kindles of joy that light themselves within you in the rapid recognition of the presence of your other half somewhere in the distance.

In the cesspool of odors of all the other wolves that odiously stink and reek through winds around you, it is a taxing task to attempt to locate the origin of the aroma you have come to adore ardently.

All you can do is readily revel in the piquantly pungent incense that incites your baser being with inclination to rejoin with its mate and to find solace in the euphoric utopia of his waiting arms once more.

 Some of the lead elder’s words are lost to you amongst your alpha’s essence that wraps willfully around you in a brume that brushes eagerly against you while the ovation that, somewhere along the way, has gradually quieted while the last of the alphas have found their allocated allotment next to their corresponding heaps of seized, slain prey.

They are organized according to rank with the first place that heads the row of alphas belonging to the wolf boasting the highest station amongst his dynamic as their chief in charge of them all through the title afforded to him through his strength, power and bloodline.

 Such were no match for any other alpha that had been unwise and unfortunate enough to face and bear the brunt of his sharp claws in battle that ended in loss to any that opposed him as the rightful pack alpha.

 It is Jungkook’s locus at the vertex of the line that is empty and while the sight should distill doubt’s inklings within you, your alpha’s reassuring redolence is there to caress you in the swathing surety that he’s near. In your endeavored expenditure to catch a glimpse of Jungkook, you fail to detect that there is not one desolate domain that is devoid of an alpha in front of you, but four.   

 Still, you’re hardly at the liberty to discern that within the olfactive haze of your alpha’s pheromones that effervescently enfold you in their pleasing particles.

 When your irises chase the lingering trace of him that is everywhere and nowhere at once to no avail yet again, you pout and, in the distance, a pair of golden eyes glint with mirth at the spectacle of you that is so incredibly and charmingly cherubic to their beholder.

 A knowing expression momentarily crossing the lead elder’s face, your grandmother steps back before smiling fondly at you before her eyes carry their focus across the line of omegas that have been bestrewn along the grasses to your right before returning to you as she proclaims, “My dear grandchild, I welcome you and your fellow omegeans to the maturity that the wolves within you have flourished so beautifully with. May the most worthy of alphas earn you this night under the approving nod of our maternal moon that shall watch us from above,” she gives a revering salute to the celestial body above as she crosses her fingers over her heart in a spherical motion before bowing and when she stands once more, she trumpets, “With that, let us begin the Offering Ceremony!”

Upon her final words, she hobbles haltingly back down the wooden stairs connected to one side of the stage with some aid from the other elders in the age that has stolen away the strength of her feeble, frail ligaments as another round of applause fiercely flies through the land on the wings of the air that carry it as good-natured gossip joins it.

 The stage is emptied but for a moment before an alpha emerges from the arched lumbered and logged mouth opening onto the platform, the tongue of timbered planks spanning outward in a circlet as the wolf takes his starting position for his celebratory dance before a flurry of flutes cast their music from the forelimbs of the wooden body under the deft fingers of the pack’s musicians.

You do not recognize this wolf and it takes only a second for your attention to sway elsewhere as your alpha’s scent draws you back to him when its mists cling in their sedulous sumptuousness to you.

 It is tradition that all ceremonies and events initiate with performances meant to embody the heart of the occasion. Through their artistically aesthetic displays, tangible forms are given to the impalpable sentiments that the pack amasses in its harnessing  of sensibilities toward such a jovial jamboree in the dances that are done to reflect those avid attitudes of each wolf imbued innately with such enthusiasm.

 Following this, alphas are the first to proffer a present to their desired partners in declaring and dedicating the winnings of their hunt to their chosen omega. In exchange for the bounty, the omega then gives something of their own to their alpha as a symbol of intent to be paired exclusively with each other.

 If there are offerings that exceed those of a single alpha for one omega, challenges or duels can be instigated and thusly proctored in official matches in their efforts to win an omega.

Such battles end either through submission or when one wolf is left incapacitated in the incapability to rise from the ground through the wounds that always leave their bodies in tatters through the violent nature of the fight for a mate.

The losing combatant forfeits their rights to claim an omega if they are bested by their opponent and the omega is not given a choice to accept the victor even if the alpha that wins them is not the one they had hoped to have, for it is a rule that the superior wolf who dominates another and exhibits that they are the more capable provider to the entire compound is the worthier being in their ability to protect their omega.

Following this, an intended pair of wolves each bestow matching marks that they paint onto each other in the blood of the strongest, most fearsome prey that an alpha robbed of its life in the honor of their omega.

 After that, they are free to depart to a den the alpha is to have carefully crafted in preparation of his mate where the two are then meant to consummate their bond that will seal them together forevermore, for the brand of tooth marks that the two leave on each other through the throes of rapturous ecstasy would bind them to one other until the end of their days in the ultimate deed of giving themselves to each other through such an intimate act.

 Daedal devotion linked the delicate affairs of courtship that you had always thought was so romantic and you can’t help the thrilling sensation that cascades over you at the prospect of what is to come alongside a particular alpha that has captured your mind and soul in his very palm.

 His scent swirls enticingly around you as your irises, once again, flick along the endless expanse of the forest beyond while you squint as if that would help you to better see into the greenhood that grasps him away from you. Try as you might, you still cannot glimpse the apple of your eye from the fanning ferns careening from the underbrush as you whine once more in his hedging of you.

As his tang drapes itself over you, it stirs in its insistence his voice that echoes through your mind to remind you, “I will return for you and when I do, I will make you mine forever.”

 Your anxiety is quieted in his quintessence that settles like a blanket over you to warm you in his stead as you continue to scour scrupulously around you for any smidgen of him that might deliver you to the truth of his whereabouts, your focus narrowed now in the thin beam of light that luminates your mind only with the purpose of finding him.

 Lost in your fossicking forage for him as you are, the first wolf that had arrived on the stage is replaced by another and after that, two more.

 By the time that six have gone, you’re no closer to illuminating your vision with his candescent luster as you peer longingly at the vacant spot that parallels your own where your alpha should be standing as yearning pulls at your heartstrings in his devastating absenteeism as you tug his pelt tighter over you.

 When the yakking and chatting of the wolves behind you is blown out like a candle in the current that sweeps them through in awed astonishment at the same instant that the pheromones lacing over you thicken in headiness in their willful wiles, that’s when your irises are whisked away, lured as they are to the baited source of it all.

 Your breath hitches when golden eyes pierce your own, fiery fervor flashing in them amidst the ferocious flames that lick hungrily at him from all directions in their passionate parchedness to welcome him into their warmth.

 His irises rove ravenously over you, heat coiling low within you as your wolf preens at the attention while you do the same.  

 Covered in the color of soot, Jungkook’s lower half is ashen with cindered linen that clutches with cohere to him in every slew of thew cording his legs. Adorning his middle is a blackened buckskin belt that bears a perfect hourglass shaped waist and already your salivary glands are fructuously fertile in their gushing of spittle within your jaw that drops when you drink in the overtly obscene shirt that is provocatively provoking in its transparency that elicits the subsequent swoons of omegas around you. 

It leaves nothing to the imagination and, like a second skin, vaunts every delicious dip and ridge of his mouth-watering musculature.

 It is decorated with patterned patches in the shapes of burned brambles that are woven across the material meant to inspire illicit impurities in all that are fortuitously fortunate enough to behold your alpha in how it sinfully sticks to him. Encircling his neck like a thick collar, the shirt bands around him and over it, a blazoned blazer engulfs him. Like it has been seared through by fire, it is open to reveal his clothed chest in its entirety.

Tendrils of dark hair fall over his face in dangerous, wild wisps that curl amidst the humidity that overtly obsess over them.

 You can hardly contain your own ire of want that simmers through you at the sight all of that and, when you trail your visage back up to his eyes, they are brightened with amusement while he dares to flick a sculpted brow as if to tease, “Like what you see?”

 You lick your lips as a whimper traitorously escapes you while a wolfish grin lifts at his own before the symphony of flutes and lutes harmonize in the opening notes of their song and they sing soulfully for a few meters.

 When your alpha begins his damning dance to the thrumming tempo of the waiata whispering through his ears, you already know you’re going to fall even more for him in an impossibly irredeemable descent that you have no wish to ascend away from.

 Your alpha sidles forward with purpose pervading his slow movement, his irises burning torridly into your own with the finer feeling that fully fulgurates them before he spins on one foot while the chords of both instruments twirl together with him as he whirls around to face you once more.

 The melodic music is, like your alpha, insistent in its eagerness to call commandingly to you in the way that its trill lowers and soon deepens with the same tantalizing temptation into his darkness that captivates you to him in your pure light.

 In his meticulous motion, his fingers close around the end of his jacket that he’d caught in an open palm upon completion of his turn only to strum his fingers through the air with the other hand as if he were stroking the strings of an invisible lute between his arms.

 He draws his free hand backward before smoothly and flowingly sweeping it forward only to then arc it behind him in a circular kinesis, his chin following his hand like it is tied around his wrist by twine. He repeats this once more, his eyes never straying from yours in the heated intensity that warms your very being as he stares only at you the entire time.

 Like a match being struck in various vertices over him, every movement sparks the flinted flicker of white that births from it the embers of an inferno amidst the small moonstones that have been adroitly added over his blazer.

 When he steps forward to be bathed by the scarlet rays of the moon that color him in the passion that he dances with, that’s when he vocalizes the sentiments for you that move him in a lyrical lilt that is in sound synchronicity with the instrumental tune he’d written himself.

 As he takes in the way that you melt under the smoldering charcoal of affection for him, he can’t help the words that fall freer than rain on a spring day as he allows his emotions for you to pour out of him while you thaw him with your own rays of radiance that glisten in your eyes and in the way that you fondly look on at him like he’s the only one that exists in your world.

 His baser being demands that he show to you what you mean to him and so he does.

 He sings how rapidly his life had gone by and how lonely with lorn he’d been in his wait for his mate in the incertitude of whether he’d been correct in his way of living without you while his arm lifts so his fingers point toward the sky that, through its unstopping hands, had turned the cogs of time.

 “Oh, I think I was in yesterday ‘cause everybody walk too fast, don’t know what to do with, am I livin' this right?”

 He chants to you about the time that had been stolen sufferingly away from you both in your childhood and adolescence that had barred you both from each other in the forbidding rules of the compound that outlawed with onus your unavoidable union.

 “Why am I alone in a different time and space? Oh I can't call ya, I can't hol' ya, Oh I can't…”

 He proclaims the struggling strife that had wracked him in being forced to remain apart from you for so unbearably long in his cover behind the trees while he’d watched over you as his soul had cried for the only one that could complete it in the days he’d spent following the orders of his father.

 “Sometimes when I’m gasping for air, I wear my hat low and keep running, yeah, I don't know where I go, even if it's opposite of sun…”

 He chronicles with vivid verve the verdict that he has brimmed blisteringly with in your brilliance that shines as bright as the stars above while he pumps his closed fist gently against the heart that thumps only for you as he continues, his hand dragging through the hair you’d pulled on in effort to induce his mercy in the wood before he runs his other palm along the thigh he’d watched you so beautifully pleasure yourself on while he’d been blessed with the view of your damned delight atop of him.

 “One time for the present and two time for the past, I’m happy that we met each other now til' the very end…”

 He declares to you that you are, after so long, the Eve that he will always escape into the verboten oasis to find as he jumps high in the sky, his spirits soaring for you as he watches you reach dotingly for him before he lands to extend a hand of his own to you before spinning in a circle like a clock to once more face you.

 “Oh, I will call ya, I will hol' ya, oh I will and yes you know, oh yes you know that I will...”

 Enraptured in ardency’s hold over you, Jungkook’s gleaming gold irises are streaked so profoundly with earnest elan that, as they sink into the riveting depths of your own, they scintillate with silver like the genial moon that you are to him as it washes over his eyes the farther that he descends into your deep devoutness that floods you for him.

 In the irrefutable irrepressibility of your own sentiments for him, your own eyes dye themselves gold like the sun that is your alpha to you.

 His dulcet words phosphoresce the burgeoning seedlings of affectionate attachment to him as he nears you along the lip of the stage that is speckled with candles that cast their light over him like sunbeams themselves that, through their heated kisses, leave him shimmering in an ethereal golden glow that radiates out into the night that has befallen you. 

You do not know if a more mellifluous voice exists in the world than his own with the way the chords of your own heart are struck with each soulful solfege that is uniquely and undeniably him as his eyes seek nothing but you, who has brought so much lustrous light to his sky.

 Neither of you pay any mind to the collective series of shocked gasps or astonished huffs that are emitted from the converged crowd behind you.

 In the stuttered stupefaction that fastens itself to them like moss to a tree, all eyes are on you and your alpha that take notice only of only each other amidst the mutated metamorphosis that had transfigured the irises of both of you to match those of the other through the gift of sight that marks two soulmates in their belonging to one another.

 Such an ocular occurrence had not been recorded for over seven thousand years in the rare paucity that the moon granted with the declining diminishment of purebreds descended from the lupi antiquis.

 Thus, in the episodical exceptions where the celestial body did bestow such an innately intimate connection between two wolves, it was said that their zealous zest for each other would guide them in their reigned rule over the other wolves that would bring prosperity and peace for generations to come under the moon’s favor.

 Yet, under the music’s metrical melody, its sonorous spell casts a coddling cocoon over you and your mate until the silken thrum hums around only the two of you as its fibered filaments shield everything but the both of you from each other’s vision.

 Your mate’s vociferous voice fades after the chanted crescendos ravel into decrescendos until the collection of euphonious sounds wrap wholly and completely around you as his body moves with the beat of the organ that pumps only for you within him.  

He plants both feet to the floor before a hand trails down his body in a vinelike display while one leg is uprooted off the wood beneath him to swing in front and behind him as if he’s embedded into it and can’t bear to relinquish himself from the earth that grounds and supports him like you do.  

 Like the celestial bodies whose hands that turn time, he easily epitomizes this when he steps forward, his arms turning in a spherical motion akin to that of sun’s path through the realm above during the days it brings before the moon journey in her brother’s stead as the siblings of the sky steal away the lost moments that had been wracked away from you both amid their ceaseless passing.

 His wrist then flicks outward as if he’s trying to halt the spindles of a chronometer from ticking precious time away from him as his irises flare frenetically into your own with the fervor that flecks them.

 You whine for him as he moves, his fervent feeling made so precisely palpable with the way his shoulders roll in circles along with the crux of the heart sitting in his chest that hastens its already quickened pace as he glimpses the tender smile lifting along your lips.

It sets his very soul afire with contentedness before one and then the other hand pounds against each pectoral only to then sweep upward to tangle through his hair as his legs splay outward so that each thigh bulges boastfully against the fabric while his wolf howls when he hears you suck in a breath.

 It is one that sputters with a stammer from your lips in the emotion he’s nurtured inside you and drawn forth from the deepest recesses of your body that wails needily for him, your wolf baying with want to be closer, nearer and together.

 The sound you make lathers itself like honey over his ears and he’s sure he’ll never tire of that with how breathlessly bewildered you had seemed all because of him.

 He’s swiftly besieged by his baser being to show to you how much you affect him and to display to you what you do to him in his deep-seated desire for you and, never one to bypass his urges, he does not cage it.

 Once his hands have streamed through his luscious locks, he trickles them over his face, irises still settled along the substrate of your own as his fingers drag downward to collect the lapels of his blazer before, in one fluid motion, he sheds it from his shoulders as a loud whimper dribbles from you while you absorb attentively the salacious sight before you.

 His hair has fallen crazedly over one eye in curved, thick tufts as an iridescent iris dappled in the chroma of the orbs that oscillate through the sky during the night and day. Through his continued movements, the mingled union of a silver and gold buries itself as deeply as it can within your depths as the offending piece of clothing trails lower until it pools at his wrists.

With a devastating grin, he puffs out his chest with proud pride, a sheen of sweat shining under the thin material amongst dark, dusky nipples that nip against it in protest of its tautness that chafes against them.

 Instantly, your legs are rubbing against each other without your mind’s notice as he smirks when your essence that is spawned by your sex spumes over you before its titillating tinge rises in the air to collect under his nostrils.

 Your rousing spice seasons every recess of his body in the relish that causes his pupils to dilate in craving, his member growing hard within his trousers for you as he pulls his lip between his teeth with a growl before gyrating around and when your irises meet once again, he pivots to the side at the same time his fist opens and closes while he outstretches a hand for you.

 Your limbs are slowly sapped of their strength with each measured movement that he makes and when he runs toward you until he’s dangerously close to the edge of the stage, you think he might reduce you to a puddle on the ground beneath him when his hand returns to the corpulent collection of muscles cording the crus of his leg as he whisks one palm along his thigh while he rotates his ankle inward to have every tendon jump in a torturously teasing sight while his free fingers curl inward before him as he repeats it all with the other.

 Saliva pools in your mouth as he sleekly and confidently moves with the impressively intricate series of footwork that he glides impossibly closer to you with and with one final twirl and fatal arch of a brow, he shirks the blazer off him entirely while his ligaments lower him down to one knee in sharp, quick movements that have his chest caving in and out while he descends, his head tipping back to bare a neck sluiced with sweat in a sight that has you drooling in want to touch and feel him against you once again.

 Jungkook leers longingly at you when he slides forth onto his other leg with one bent underneath him while the other is jutted out like the perfect throne that you’d gladly fall to your knees for.

 He looks like a god that you would readily worship and yet, he dances like a demon.

 It is with a lethal dark flash of his eyes that he snaps the fingers of one hand to the final strum of the lute while the other trails damningly along his chiseled body until it settles over the swelling cock throbbing for you that you whine with the unyielding yearningness that has captured every inhibited iota within you under his command.

 You are utterly enthralled as his lips move to mouth, “All of this was for you, my omega. Now that everyone knows what we are to each other, no one will dare to keep you from me,” he watches with interest the way that your lips part in his effect on you and curses in how far away you are from him as he utters, “Come to me once I’ve gone away from here, pretty. Your alpha requires your presence after being denied of you in the forest. I will be waiting anxiously for you.”

 When he stands to sink into the shadows behind him that the light cannot permeate, your high-pitched warble still has not dissipated.

 You only realize this when a spindly, bony hand is laid over your shoulder to pull you back and away from the pack of wolves around you while the familiar and oldened voice of your grandmother tries to break through to you in the stupor set by your alpha.

 When you don’t respond to the many redundant repetitions of your name, she squeezes your shoulder to throatily call out, “My, my, my… you are besotted with that alpha that names himself Jeon Jungkook, my dearest granddaughter. I hadn’t the foggiest idea before on why he asked me to allow him to dance, but now I see that it was for you.  I suppose that is to be expected, considering everything."

 It is the mention of your alpha that grapples your attention away from where you’d last seen him as you tilt your head in question before you quietly squeak, “I am very taken with him, but what do you mean by that?”

 She laughs, “Grandchild, these eyes may be old, but I saw within you and he the gift of sight that the moon mother above bestowed to you both that, by her blessed design, declares each of you as the other’s soulmate. Even the gift of olfaction was there, for this nose can still smell the taint of sex that he, along with you, produced during his performance.”

 Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn in embarrassment while you stutter, “Grandma, h-he made me do it. I c-couldn’t help it.”

 She only pats your head to say, “It is nothing to be ashamed of, grandchild. The moon chose him for you. It is only natural that you respond to him in such a way. Incidentally, what did he say to you at the end of his dance?”

 Mortification has you worrying at your lip before as you fidget as you shyly whisper, “He asked that I go to him. I believe he wishes for us to have some time alone together before the offering.”

 Your grandmother nods in understanding and instead of finding any trace of dissenting disapproval in her countenance, she encourages, “Then go and join him, my granddaughter. You must be swift, though,” she steps back to gesture to the row of alphas that stand before the stage, “There are only a few performances left before you and he must return for any challengers that may wish to win you from him, though I don’t see how that will be possible as smitten as you appear for that alpha that you call Jungkook.”

 Gratification steeply swills over you as you embrace her, “Thank you, grandmother. We will be quick as the wind, you’ll see.”

 She waves you off as you scurry with hurry beyond her toward the wooden dwelling that houses the elders, for it secondarily serves as the temporary domain of the dancers that begin the performances where they are allowed to change clothes and prepare in the spare rooms that are located along the first floor.

 You do not notice the shift of silhouettes in the distance as you scamper along, your mind swimming in the waters of your alpha that have soused you so.

 It is only when you are scuttling along the steps that lead up into the den that you hear the whistle behind you before it is followed in a voice saturated far too saccharinely with sweetness that has your tongue souring in its wake as it muses, “Damn, Taehyung. You weren’t lying. She really is such a divine little thing.”

 In the hormones heaving through you, they insistently incur your instincts that are stirred with stimulation only for your alpha and in simultaneous sequence, the repellant revulsion of any wolf that is not him in your baser being’s acknowledged acceptance of Jungkook as your mate.

 Your wolf kecks under the miasmatic fumes of malodors that are bitter and acetic as they burn your nostrils, the stench of alphas heavy in the air as you remain in your place with your back to them while you try to stifle the gag that sits low in your throat as you manage, “What do you want with me? Why are you here and who are you?”

 You recognize one as Taehyung’s, but the other is unknown to you.

 There’s a mawkish chortle that bellows, “You do not know of me? You will, omega. Soon enough, you will. All of you omegas eventually do.”

 The words lift the hairs at the base of your neck in the cloying sugariness of them that clump heavily together in their mission to rot your insides as the swish of grass grows louder in the closing distance between you and the stranger that is an obstructing obstacle between you and your alpha.

 The unabating advance does not terminate and when you furtively glance over your shoulder to see a hand inching toward you, you cringe with the trace of a hiss tinting your voice, “Do not touch me. My alpha is very protective of me and will not be merciful if you toy with what is his. Your friend over there,” you flick your chin back toward the source of the foul odor that you know to be Taehyung’s, “he was not so lucky when he felt it just to try to take me from my alpha.”

 The stranger makes a sound of consideration, “Hm, a creature with some bark to her bite. I like that.”

 It’s as though you’re being backed into a corner, your wolf yelping in protest as you try to rein in your emotions that beg you to beseech your alpha that is so close, yet so far away from you right now. If he does not come for you, it is only a matter of time before your claws will come out in defense.

 Fingers stretch toward you and before they can make contact with your skin, you bare your teeth to sibilate, “It seems you do not understand. It was only I that could calm Jungkook- who is bound to me and I to him by the moon above- through the rage that overcame him when he was ready to maim Taehyung for foolish disobedience,” you turn to pierce your perpetrator with a cautionary glare as you forewarn, “The wounds that were left in Taehyung’s shoulder are but minor lesions of what my alpha will scar you with should you dare to incur the wrath of my mate.”

 In a momentary lapse of an instant, you think that you derive in your detection the distinct aromatic attar of your alpha nearby, but it is fleeting as are the contours that are casted of a darkened outline that, so quickly you think it may have been a trick of your eye, briefly block the light filtering past the opaque aperture of aged glass next to the entrance of the den.

They disappearingly depart almost as soon as they arrive with only a sliver of a scent that remains and without a doubt, there is only one wolf it could belong to in its special singularity.

It had been Jungkook, your alpha.

You wish you could be with him and wonder if an elder had gotten to him before you could, but you’re not given long to ruminate on either of those despite the sudden stoutness that is spritzed over you in Jungkook’s oceanic presence that ebbs and flows faithfully alongside you.

 In spite of it all, it is Jimin who stands before you when you look down on him. He is clad in bloodred silks that contrast clashingly with dark smudging around the sides of his eyes while pewter colored hair hangs loosely over his forehead with the oils that must have been used to carefully style it while he cheekily checks you out much to your discontented dismay.

“What you say is of little concern to me, Y/N. I always get what I want and you will be no different,” he says.

You have seen him only a few times before during his performances and had once thought him to be beautiful as a doll, but now you can see where his stitches have become loose in vainness that bursts at his seams.

You take a step back and away from him, your alpha’s presence pouring itself onto you through the remnants of his smell that douse his confidence over you as you cross your arms to chide, “It is a pity your looks have made you so conceited, Jimin. You have become spoiled and ruined by them, it seems,” you harden your gaze at him, “I am not like everyone else and I do not wish to have anything to do with you because I am already promised to Jungkook, who is your pack alpha that you must obey.”

 One side of his lips lift up his irises hoggishly digest you from head to toe as he decides, “It’s precious that you believe any of that is enough to stop me,” he climbs one step slowly before ascending up the other until he is eye level with you, “Spend the limited time together that you can, little omega. It will be over soon enough when I reap you from him and harvest the most fruitful crop this fucking pack has ever had and plow you until you’re bursting with my seed instead of his.”

 Your alpha has never spoken to you with such disregarding disrespect. It irks you with anger that reddens enflamed within you.

 You grimace at that, disgust damningly withering your insides in its blight as you sneer, “Try it, Park Jimin. You will never win against him. When you lose to him like I already am assured that you will,” you lift your chin in defiance, “you’ll regret allowing that minuscule cock of yours to rule over your tiny, pygmy brain.”

 That earns a titter from him as he replies, “What a little spitfire you are. No matter,” he gibs, “I will tame you soon enough.”

 Obstinance consumes you in its angry wildfire as you scoff, “As if you ever could. Good luck with your attempts that shall only end in bitter failure, for I will never be yours. I belong to Jungkook and there is nothing you could do to change that.”

 “That’s where you’re wrong,” Jimin smiles so wide it’s almost nauseating with how much his lips can twist as he backs away with a quip coming from between them, “When he loses to me-“

 “He will not be defeated by the likes of you. This, I know to be true,” you narrow your eyes in certitude’s credence that your blood sings with.

 “If I do not win you, then Taehyung will. Nonetheless, we shall see, little omega. We shall see,” his vexing voice dims in deliquesce as the moonlight regressively recedes while the two prowling wolves remit themselves into the shadows of utter umbra that swallow them from sight.

 You stand for some moments counting contrived breaths hindered by your ire that had smoked and combusted within you to block your airway from effectively expelling the blazing emotion and it is only when your chest no longer aches with the stressed strain to contract that you set in motility once again to make your way into the elder’s den.

It doesn’t take you long to locate your alpha in the perceptible path of pheromones that lead you to him and there is no havering hesitation that stymies its stall of you from opening the oaken door before closing it as it groans in its senile senescence from the effort of such work.

Any negative sentiments that Jimin had left brewing immediately disintegrate within you as you ogle openly how, with his back to you, your alpha damningly divests from his body the shirt made of pure sin in its tempting taunt to you.

He pulls it from his middle slowly and torturously drags it up to reveal skin soaked by the sun and burned by the claws of combat, the serried slew of muscles lining his shoulders swelling savagely in his mannered motion and only when he lets it fall limply on the floor do his eyes find your own through the mirror he ostentatiously oxidizes you through.

Golden irises specked with silver sear into your own as one brow arches up only for him to rumble out, “Enjoy the show, pretty? I know I did.”

[elleonmybeloved]

The weather on the day of the competition was perfect, nary a cloud in the sky and a warm fresh smelling breeze blew throughout the city of Mondstadt. Everybody was gathered around the archon statue, in front of which a raised wooden platform has been placed as a makeshift stage. The person in charge of the event is just a person who owns an instrument shop in the city, but the real weight behind regulating the event is the group of knights of Favonius that stand guard in the area and enforce safety as well as the rules of the proceedings. There’s no panel of judges. It’s the audience who chooses the winner by writing the name of the bard who gave their favorite performance and placing it inside a wooden box to be counted by the host.

“Ooh, Paimon can’t wait! When are they gonna start already?” Lumine’s floating companion gives an impatient wiggle. “Oh wait, look, here comes the host now!”

The host steps up on the stage, and after a minute the swelling chatter from the crowd dies down to a murmur.

“Greetings citizens of Mondstadt, and welcome to another battle of the bards! It is my pleasure to announce that we will be treated to fifteen performances today. Each contestant will be performing two songs, one preexisting song of their choice, and one of their own. After they have all given their performances, you, the audience, may cast your vote for whoever most greatly moved your heart with their music.” He gives a break for applause.

“May the anemo archon watch over us all! Let the contest begin!” The host steps down off the stage and the first bard takes his place.

One performance after another, the city fills with music. Some chose upbeat, joyous melodies, others slow and mellow ballads, and even some that take a jazzy tune and encourage clapping and dancing from the audience. Lumine is amused to witness what she guesses is a bard commissioned by Stanley to make a song about him and his famous adventures.

By the end of that song, she and the crowd have already memorized the repetitive words and are joining in to shout-sing the great adventurer’s name.

“Good for him, I guess.”

“Paimon thought this was supposed to be emotionally moving music! Geez.”

“They never specified which emotion.” Lumine points out, but before Paimon can quip back, a hush falls over the crowd again as the next bard comes up.

The lanky teen in bright teal that takes the stage is surely Venti, but his prescence feels so different from what she’s used to. Lumine swallows dryly. He’s the one on stage about to perform, so why is she the one feeling nervous all of a sudden?

Venti begins with the first song- Lion Heart, the one about Venessa, the great hero of Mondstadt. The melody flows like the wind but the sound grows and flares like a fire in a grand way that makes her feel as if she herself has been transported back in time and is standing in the middle of a raging war. His voice is strong and unwavering as he effortlessly tackles difficult notes, and his lyre sounds more like the herald of a trumpet than some little church house harp.

When it’s over, the audience whistles and calls out loudly with applause. The man next to her is exclaiming that he has “-Not heard that classic song so masterfully done in decades!” And Lumine has to agree with the sentiment. He could end it right now and still be the one to go home with the prize.

“Oh wooow, who knew the tone-deaf bard could do that! And to think, Paimon didn’t believe him when he said singing was the only thing he did well.”

“Yeah.” She says, squinting at the stage. Venti is setting down his lyre and is taking... something, up to the stage. It looks a bit like a lute, but it’s curved in swirling angles and with it there’s a... straight bow? Nobody else seems puzzled by this, so she figures it’s an instrument native to Teyvat.

He gets into position and Lumine’s heart begins to pound in her chest. Here it comes!

It starts with a deep, resounding hum in a minor key, tamely going above and below the starting note of the chord. The instrument makes a beautifully layered, rich sound that supports the higher and lighter tone of his voice in such a nice way that she instantly understand why he chose to use this instead of his lyre. The melody begins mysterious, and she strains her ears to make out every word.

Venti tells the tale of a forest, ruled by a bird king, a white dove. His voice flutters like the flapping of wings.

The bird king loves his forest, but invaders keep coming in and threatening it. The kings friend, the lizard, drives off the invaders, but the venom of his attack drips to the ground and poisons the forest, causing all the plants to slowly wither and die. The bird king tries everything, but cannot cure the poison, and resigns himself to die with his beloved forest instead of abandoning it, and becomes poisoned as well.

The deep thrum of the stringed instrument waxes somber.

Then, a star falls from the sky, crashing into his forest with a great flash. To the bird king’s surprise, out from the crash site flows light that purifies the poison in the forest, eventually even himself, and the great lizard. He goes to thank the star, but encounters instead a lake of tears and ash.

The bird king asks the fallen star why it laments so. The star says she has lost her ability to fly, and cannot rejoin her friends that soar the heavens. Not being able to fly sounds like the most painful fate the bird king has ever heard, and his heart is moved to help the fallen star.

Lumine recognizes a theme that resembles her song in this part, and then the instrument and Venti’s voice swirl up to a new sound.

The bird king plucks a feather from his own wing, and plants it in the now purified ground. A flower grows, and from it, he plucks a fruit.

He offers the fruit to the fallen star, telling her it is a magical fruit that can restore her power to fly, but it will cause her much pain. She eats the fruit, and is engulfed in a great flame. From the ashes of the fire, she rises, no longer a fallen star, but a phoenix.

The music soars to a climax, shifting from a minor to major key in the last few notes. Then it’s over, and Venti lowers the instrument to take a bow.

The crowd is silent a moment before erupting into applause. Lumine doesn’t know how to feel. She can’t even begin to unpack the meaning of what she just experienced.

Another bard, the next contestant replaces Venti on the stage. Lumine somehow tunes back into the present.

“-and so before I begin my performance I have something to say.” The woman on stage couldn’t be much older than Lumine. There’s something familiar about her. “Unfortunately the song I was about to play has already been played.”

A confused murmur passes through the crowd.

“I got the idea to write a song about a magic forest after being rescued by some adventurers in the Whispering Woods. I worked really ha-“ Her voice breaks on the word. “Worked really hard on it and I was so excited to show it you all today. But I can’t, because he,”

She is lifting a finger at Venti. “Stole my song.”

The host steps forward with an uneasy expression. “That’s quite the accusation. Do you have any proof, Miss...?

“-Solia. Of course I do.” She says, and hands him her notebook. “Here’s where I wrote it. You can even see the drawing I made of the bird who inspired the Bird King.”

“This... does resemble the white cranes in the Whispering Wood.” He admits. Gasps and whispers come from the crowd. Somebody says they always knew Venti was a thief and several others hear that and murmur to each other.

Lumine cannot believe her ears. She can’t see Venti’s expression from here, and she pushes through the crowd to get closer.

“Is what she is saying true, young man? Please be honest.”

Lumine pushes through to the front just as Venti answers him.

“Uheheh, no. If this is meant to be a jest, I’m afraid I must protest.” He just looks really confused. “It’s not that funny.”

“Liar!” Solia cries. “It’s my song!”

Lumine realizes where she’s seen this woman before. Sitting at the base of a windmill, writing in a notebook, a week and a half ago.

“Actually, it’s my song.”

The host looks even more confused as Lumine climbs into the stage and strides over to stand in between Solia and Venti.

“And by that I mean, he wrote it for me while you sat underneath him by the windmill and copied what you heard word for word.”

“Uh, who are you?” Solia is thrown off beat by the exposure, face flushing rapidly. “His -his girlfriend?”

“Enough of this.” The host insists. One of the knights of Favonius is saying something to him. “This young lady is an honorary knight, appointed by Acting Grand Master Jean herself. Miss Solia, if you don’t intend to play your songs, please exit the stage.”

“Huh? But-“ Solia splutters through several half formed protests, but the knight steps towards her and she raises her hands. “I-I’m going.”

Lumine turns to Venti. He looks dazed, like he still can’t believe what happened. “Come on Venti.” She grabs his hand and pulls him with her off stage. “Let’s go.”

They’re a block away before she stops. She is still holding his hand.

She’s at a loss for words. “I can’t believe she did that.”

“It’s okay, Lumine.” He’s already soothing her. “I’m not angry! Eheh... but wow, I should’ve been more careful. I hope it didn’t ruin the song for you.”

“No, not at all!” She shakes her head vehemently, clasping both his hands in hers now. “It was really good. I was really moved. You were so good!”

“Hehe. Thanks.” He’s looking at her grip on his hands.

Lumine realizes and drops them like she’s been burned.

Venti retrieves them and presses one against his cheek and rubs against it.

The question she was about to ask sputters out at the bold gesture.

“You’re so cute.” He croons, and tugs her closer to him. His blue eyes shine with mischief and happiness. “Wanna play a game?”

“Play a- uh yeah, okay!”

“Close your eyes. Open em and you lose~!”

The way he is petting her is very distracting. Lumine closes her eyes and hopes she doesn’t look dumb. She can feel his breath on her face. Her heart lurches in anticipation.

“...”

She cracks an eye open, wondering what’s going on.

“Hey! Come on, you didn’t even last ten seconds!” He complains. “I’m good at this but I’m not that fast.”

The long parts of her hair are in his hands, one side half braided. She realizes he is giving her the same style as him.

“Oh sorry.” She says, and closes her eyes at his pointed look. Lumine holds very still. She feels repetitive little tugs at her hair one side, then the other. Is he finished? Feels like it.

“We match.” His voice is very close.

Pressure pulls her head forward by the braids in a gentle motion. And then there’s a swell of warmth as soft lips press firm against hers and a hand presses against the small of her back.

Lumine was sufficiently fooled into not expecting it, and a chorus of butterflies rise in her stomach as Venti pulls back and kisses her again.

Elation fills her at the confirmed prospect of his feelings and her cautiously withheld affection for him breaks free. Lumine presses a hand to the back of Venti’s neck to bring their lips even closer together.

They take turns swapping sweet kisses until they are both breathless and love-drunk. Venti isn’t there to hear himself win first place.

[terrific-togekiss]

What if there was a Walt Disney Fighting Game? [Video Game Concept]

Note: I am well aware, that Disney would probably never say yes in a million years to this idea. Taking their beloved, child friendly characters and having them fight?!

OH THE HORROR?!

I am also aware there have been concepts for this in the past.

Final Fantasy Dissidia was supposed to be a Kingdom Hearts fighting game, but Nomura felt uncomfortable portraying Disney characters in such a violent atmosphere.

And there are sketches of what a Walt Disney fighting game could've been, inspired by Super Smash Bros, before it was canceled. It would've focused on more violent characters such as Gaston, Beast, Ursula, Captain Hook, Captain Silver and the Horned King. But the idea was dropped.

Here's the link.

This entire post is just building and putting together what a Disney fighting game would look like to me, if one came out in today's world. It's all merely speculation and ideas that's been in the back of my head for awhile.

(Special thanks to @mayflower-gal for helping me set this up. 😁)

Anyways, let's get started!

Part 1: The Plot

For the plot, I believe it would have to be something simple, since this an idea for a first game. It's the start of a potentially huge franchise, so I wanna keep it not only simple, but an aspect that helps kick off the potential series. And pull in many fans, old and new of Disney.

Let's take into account one thing: what's a recurring theme across various Disney movies (and overall media)?

Is it the lovable, comic relief sidekick that makes audiences laugh? Is it the songs that kids find themselves singing, long after the tale is done and the curtain has closed? Is it perhaps, the clever celebrity choices for important side characters?

No, It's the one defining aspect that draws in audiences, both new and old, bringing you to fall in love with the characters as the story is told:

Wishes.

Pinocchio wishes to be a real boy. Beast and all his servants wish to be human again. Tiana wishes to have her own restaurant. Ariel wishes to see the world beyond the sea.

Everyone wishes for something more in their life and have dreams that they wish come true.

What if all those wishes were counted? Collected?

Watched over. Much like a parent to their children. Or a teacher to their students.

Found engaging. Found entertaining. Found comforting. Found peaceful. Found introspective.

Looked at with childlike wonder and glee when accomplished.

But frowned on when those wish for selfish desires. And an even deeper disappointment at those very same inhuman desires, coming true.

Good and bad exists inside every person, it's just a matter of what one chooses to act on and stand by at the end of the day.

What someone wishes for is reflective of that.

Now imagine that same being coming to life and wrecking havoc across the Disney universe. Judging for themself, if any of these colorful, imaginative characters, truly deserve their...

Happily,

Ever

After.

Yep, the main plot of the story mode is all the various Disney characters literally fighting for wishes and dreams to come true...

against the LITERAL embodiment of wishing upon a star.

Each playable character having their own unique ending.

Some endings being repeats of your favorite Disney movies, with some minor changes to acknowledge the game's plot. While others are original due to the wide cast of characters that are available, besides your favorite Disney Heroes.

For example, you beat the story mode as say, Pinocchio, he wishes to be a real boy.

I know it sounds very redundant since a majority of these things already happen in the Disney movies, but I feel as though relieving them would be fun. In addition to some original ones that didn't happen with either the villains or less major characters.

It's only the hypothetical first game and I wanted start with something simple, that fans could easily get into. More complex plots, with more character interactions should be saved for any possible sequels.

Part 2: The Gameplay

The game would be your typical 2D fighting game. You have,

Combos exclusive to every character that requires practice.

Playstyles that make each character feel unique.

Special moves for each character to get the upper hand and the main focus in besting your opponent in 1 VS 1 matches.

Of course, there's dialogue before fights in the character intros. With so many to pick from, it had to be put in somewhere.

It resembles 2D fighting games that you've all no doubt heard of, such as Marvel VS Capcom or Street Fighter.

But what would a Disney fighting game have to offer on the table, in order to survive the overall video game market?

It would have to be something unique and a feature that not only gives it originality, but a chance to stand out with so much creativity and innovation. Practically begging fans for more.

Which is why I present to you: Disney Songs.

Or as this game prompt will call them: Musical Finales.

The highlight of many Disney movies and overall media, the music is what leaves a lasting impression on many audiences. Which is not surprising, since Disney is mostly a musical. At least in terms of most of their films.

With so many iconic songs from throughout the company's history, of course I'll be squeezing them somehow!

Each character has a music meter, that can only be filled up with how the player times and follows the beat of the character they play as. Follow the rhythm and beat of a character, and it will fill up quicker. Get cut off by the opponent and it doesn't fill up.

That beat being the music of the stage each player fights on, by attacking to the music and the same time. Think of it like the Sound Battles mechanic in Mother 3.

Every character has four different kinds of attacks: Neutral, Musical, Wonderful and Special.

Neutral Attacks are normal attacks that are mostly used to set up combos.

Musical Attacks are attacks that deal more impact, when timed with the music of the stage.

Wonderful Attacks can be seen as character oriented attacks, that embody the personality and charm of the character you play as. And can be used to entertain the audience. We'll get into that later.

Special Attacks are unique finisher moves that require a separate meter to be filled up, as with most fighting games.

Now what happens when the music meter is full? A Disney Song starts playing of course!

Say you filled up Cinderella's music meter for example, then "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo" starts playing, granting some unique abilities for Cinderella.

Each song would grant different outcomes and bonuses for the various characters. They're not Special Attacks, as that's already a separate mechanic already.

For example, "Part of Your World" starts playing if you're playing as Ariel, filling up the stage with water and slowing down the opponent, giving Ariel a chance to either take advantage of that, bump items into them or create big waves of water.

But what happens if BOTH characters trigger the music meter at the same time?!

Well, that's where this gimmick becomes a fight for which song keeps on playing!

Both songs would start playing, both at the same time and volume. Except, both characters have to compete to see which is stronger.

This is done by the two characters fighting, before triggering a rhythm game between the two. Once one is the victor, the other song fades, while the other stays playing. Doubling the duration of that character's Musical Finale.

Another mechanic is the Entertainment Meter. Every level you fight on has one, that determines which fighter the audience likes more. Via Wonderful attacks, you can charm the audience into supporting you more. This activates things like getting healing items or stat boosts in power and speed. Some of your favorite Disney sidekicks even provide aid from the audience!

It's almost like watching a Disney movie live and being able to interact with the story!

Or the battle system in Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door.

I feel as though this is the best way of keeping the game interesting, giving it an identity of its own and still embodying that magic people will grow to love. It can also lead to some entertaining interactions in the background or foreground of a stage, as the music meter also brings in characters that would not be playable, but support playable characters nonetheless. Like Flounder and Sebastian.

Of course, either feature could be turned off if you're not a fan of that sort of thing, but that's a given.

Part 3: The Stages

With many Disney movies pick from, it's no wonder there's plenty of choices to pick from. Since this is the first game, I chose to focus more on the movies. Here's my take.

Steamboat (Mickey Mouse cartoons)

Duckberg (Ducktales)

Spoonerville (A Goofy Movie)

Dwarven Forest (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves)

Wonderland (Alice in Wonderland)

Monstro (Pinocchio)

The Prince's Ball (Cinderella)

Neverland (Peter Pan)

Forbidden Mountains (Sleeping Beauty)

The Coliseum (Hercules)

Andy's Room (Toy Story)

Elsa's Ice Castle (Frozen)

San Fransokyo Institute of Technology (Big Hero 6)

Atlantica (The Little Mermaid)

House of Mouse (House of Mouse)

The West Wing (Beauty and the Beast)

Cave of Wonders (Aladdin)

Pride Rock (The Lion King)

Ant Island (A Bug's Life)

Tamatoa's Trove (Moana)

Hawaii (Lilo and Stitch)

Headquarters (Inside Out)

Mor'du's Ruins (Brave)

Big Ben (The Great Mouse Detective)

Notre Dame (The Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Merlin's Cottage (Sword in the Stone)

Emperor's Palace (Mulan)

The Great Before (Soul)

Todayland (Meet The Robinsons)

Paradise Falls (Up)

Zootopia (Zootopia)

Monsters Inc (Monsters Inc)

Nomanisan Island (The Incredibles)

The Bayou (The Princess and the Frog)

Atlantis (Atlantis: The Lost Empire)

Halloweentown (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Oakey Oaks (Chicken Little)

Spirit Mountain (Brother Bear)

Sherwood Forest (Robin Hood)

Treasure Planet (Treasure Planet)

Horned King's Castle (The Black Cauldron)

The Secret Lab (The Emperor's New Groove)

Bald Mountain (Fantasia)

The Grid (Tron)

World's End (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Radiator Springs (Cars)

Grandmother Willow's Forest (Pocahontas)

East High School (High School Musical)

The Axiom (WALL-E)

Regent's Park (101 Dalmatians)

New Mushroom Town High School (Onward)

Happily Ever After Castle (Walt Disney Opening)

Part 4: The Roster

The bread and butter of many fighting games, the roster is no doubt one I had a bit of trouble putting together. With so many characters from over the years, it's no surprise. But since this is the outline of a possible first game, here's my interpretation.

Also, the cast is big to avoid being too barren or dull.

And because I had a lot of fun putting it all together.

Mickey Mouse (Mickey Mouse): The all around character of the game, he mostly fights by a series of cartoonish tricks, magic tricks and his paintbrush from Epic Mickey. His Special Attack would have him break the fourth wall like and rewind the fight like an old film projector in reverse. Except he heals, while the opponent receives twice the damage. His Musical Finale "Sorcerer's Apprentice" has him use Yensid's Sorcerer hat to its fullest and give his overall moveset more flashes to distract the opponent and slow them down.

Donald Duck (Donald Duck): Everyone's favorite, greedy mallard and the world's angriest duck. Donald would fight mainly with toon force, his fists, his bad luck and his anger. The more damage he takes, the angrier he gets. His Special Attack would have him don the Duck Avenger persona from his PK days and use a series of superhero gadgets to finish the opponent. His Musical Finale "The Three Caballeros" trades his anger for Jose Carioca and Panchito Pistoles showing up, making him happy. As they hurt the opponent, each time they hit Donald, to keep him happy.

Goofy (Goofy): Everyone's favorite Disney dad, Goofy joins the fight as not the brightest but with the biggest heart. He has toon force to aid him in some unconventional ways. His Special Attack would have him become Super Goof from his older days. His Musical Finale "Eye To Eye" would restore health everytime he dodges an attack, with a dancing flair to it.

Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves): The first Disney Princess, Snow White makes her debut and she's not alone. The Seven Dwarves direct most of her attacks, such as tossing rocks, mining tools as weapons and even just grabbing the opponent and tossing them. Snow White herself can sing and command woodland animals to tie up opponents or just fight to defend her. Her Special Attack would have the Dwarves try to roll a boulder, only for lightning to strike on the opponent and the boulder as extra damage. Her Musical Finale "Whistle While You Work" will call on a huge number of forest animals, as they tidy up the stage and Snow White, slowly replenishing her health and slowing down the opponent.

Pinocchio (Pinocchio): Don't lie in his presence, as that nose is not only for show. Pinocchio fights mostly by using his nose as a staff, the Blue Fairy bringing other toys to life to aid him and Jiminy Cricket distracting the opponent with music. Pinocchio's Special Attack would have him wish upon a star and turn himself into a real boy, as the opponent is turned into a puppet and loses damage as a result. Pinocchio's Musical Finale "I've Got No Strings" would cover the stage in thin lines used for puppets: if the opponent touches one, their frozen briefly. If a projectile attack hits, the same happens.

Cinderella (Cinderella): The bell of the ball and someone whom never gives up on kindness, Cinderella will use the dance moves she showed off at the ball for her moveset, having a dancing and musical feel to how she plays and flashy dances to win against the the opponent. With her Fairy Godmother using her magic to help her, such as flashes of light. Her Special Attack would have the clock strike midnight and she leaves behind her glass slipper: once the opponent touches it they get weighed down by a giant magic dress. Cinderella's Musical Finale "Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo" would have the Fairy Godmother cast a series of spells over the stage, as a new carriage pops up every time Cinderella pulls off a combo. The carriages run over the opponent and can even carry Cinderella to safety.

Peter Pan (Peter Pan): Leader of the Lost Boys and Captain Hook's second biggest pain in the butt, Peter Pan and Tinkerbell are here. Peter Pan has a pocket knife with him and Tinker Bell's pixie dust for aerial attacks. His Special Attack would have him toss a bunch of gold on the opponent, as the rest of the Lost Boys tackles them and beats them up for the treasures. His Musical Finale "You Can Fly" would create a trail of pixie dust behind him, that randomly causes the opponent to either jump too high or too low.

Captain Hook (Peter Pan): Keep all 'ticks' and 'tocks' away from this pirate! Captain Hook has a wide array of hooks to switch between, a flintlock pistol and his sword to win the battle. His Special Attack would have him run away from the Tick-Tock the Crocodile, as said crocodile attacks the opponent instead of Hook. His Musical Finale "A Pirate's Life/Elegant Captain Hook" would call his ship the Jolly Rodger onto the stage, as the pirates on the ship occasionally throw knives at the opponent and shoot at them, everytime Hook is caught in a combo and can't escape.

Aurora (Sleeping Beauty): Aurora, sleeping beauty herself, is doing anything but sleep and her guardians are making sure of that! Her attacks has the Good Fairies use their magic in numerous ways, such as moving objects, animating objects and even petrification. Her Special Attack has Prince Philip show up with the Sword of Truth and the Shield of Virtue, to deal heavy damage on the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Once Upon A Dream" boosts her stats everytime she's hit.

Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty): The Mistress of all Evil, Maleficent uses a wide array of magic powers from cursed, throny vines, to her iconic green fires, she's one tough fighter from a distance. Her Special Attack would have her turn into a dragon and breath fire down on the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Once Upon A Dream" would have her make the opponent more drowsy, each time they hit her, until falling asleep, unless they keep moving.

Robin Hood (Robin Hood): The sly fox of England and one talented theif, this fox focuses on disguises, archery, swordsmanship and woodsmanship to make his way. His Special Attack would have authorities show up to arrest him, as they rain down arrows on the opponent in the process. His Musical Finale "Running Through The Forest" would allow him to dodge all attacks, without needing to hit the controls or input buttons.

Basil of Baker Street (The Great Mouse Detective): World's greatest detective! At least in the mouse world that is. Basil would investigate the stage of the fight, much like a crime scene and even pick up clues that double as weapons, such as a propeller or a mouse trap. His Special Attack would have him investigate a crime scene that hurt the opponent, before pushing them aside as 'worthless' evidence. His Musical Finale "Let Me Be Good To You" would have him require no further evidence and counter each hit with a deduction on his opponent's crime and even stop them from performing combos. Doing damage in the process.

Professor Ratigan (The Great Mouse Detective): Never call him a rat. Ever. This crime boss of the miniature crime world be no stranger to fist fights and gleefully take a swing at your demise, whether it's his fists, cane or traps. If not him, then his minions are more than happy to drown some orphans! His Special Attack would have him call his pet cat, Felicia to devour the opponent. His Musical Finale "The World's Greatest Criminal Mind" would give him more durability to hits, more destruction to the stage and traps cover more range on the stage.

Ariel (The Little Mermaid): Princess of the Sea, everyone's favorite mermaid is ready to explore beyond the sea. Armed with her father's trident, some amazing swimming skills and various sea animals at her command, she's more than ready. Her Special Attack would have her conjure a giant wave, that also covers the opponent in sea creatures. Her Musical Finale "Part Of Your World" fills the stage with water and can have Ariel bump floating objects into the opponent.

Ursula (The Little Mermaid): The last sea witch you would want to cross paths with, Ursula has eels to do her biding, poisonous ink clouds and even thunderclouds. Her Special Attack would have her turn giant via King Triton's trident and use the added power to attack the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Poor Unfortunate Souls" has her disguise herself as the opponent and slowly regain health from all souls being eaten by her. As a bonus, if she's infront of a mirror that's on the stage, her reflection will be her true form.

Belle (Beauty and the Beast): My, quite an odd girl, reading books and getting on the field of battle?! Belle's entire moveset would revolve around books; not magic books, just books on the rest of the cast and fairytales overall. She would be able to switch between each of these books and use what she's learned from them. For Example, 'Romeo and Juliet' gives Belle immunity to stat changes and rose themed weapons that hurt the opponent, like throwing weapons. 'Aladdin' gives her a magic ring that can conjure up magic smoke, furniture on the foe and teleport her. 'Jack and the Beanstalk' plants vines that can raise her up or entangle the foe. There's more books at her disposal, but that's just the general idea. Her Special Attack has her father ride in on his invention, chopping up an entire forest until the opponent is covered and crushed by chopped up logs. Her Musical Finale "Tale As Old As Time" gives her the power to 'skip' a fairytale, turning each of her attacks into the endings from the books. For example, 'Aladdin' would trap the opponent in an oil lamp, leaving room for her to attack.

Beast (Beauty and the Beast): The poor and cruel prince, turned into a monster as evil as the one in his heart. Beast has his boost in strength from his beastly form and claws to defeat the opponent. The curse not only affected him: his servants are by his side. Lumiere can incinerate the opponent or plant fires on the ground, Cogsworth can distract them with timed clock sounds, Mrs. Potts can spill tea to slip up the opponent, Chip will knock over bookshelves and Wardrobe can block attacks. His Special Attack would turn the opponent into a piece of furniture, leaving them open for attacks: each opponent having a different transformation. His Musical Finale "Be Our Guest" would have every attack with one of his servants, also heal Beast in addition to hurting the opponent.

Gaston (Beauty and the Beast): Nooo oooone's slick as Gaston! Quick as Gaston! No one's neck is as incredibly thick as Gaston! He's especially good at combo breaking! Boy what a guy that Gaston! Gaston has his inconic blunderbass and his fists, along with a bow and quiver and a hunting knife to deal with an opponent, almost as if they were an animal he's hunting. His Special Attack would have an angry mob charge at the opponent and beat them up. His Musical Finale "Gaston" gives him a strength boost, everytime he pulls off a combo successfully.

Aladdin (Aladdin): Everyone's favorite street rat and theif, he's not alone on the field of battle as Abu and Genie are here to help him. Abu can cling to the opponent and hit them repeatedly, Magic Carpet can be used for aerial attacks, Aladdin has a sword that he 'borrowed' from a guard and Genie can shape-shift in a variety of ways to best the opponent. Aladdin's Special Attack would have Genie distract the opponent, as Aladdin steals something off them and uses it to beat them. Aladdin's Music Finale "Friend Like Me" would have Genie grant a wish, each time Aladdin gets a combo, such as a stat boosts and healing.

Jasmine (Aladdin): The sultan's own daughter that would rather be anything than a prize to be given away. She has learned self defense skills, her father's guards and her pet tiger Rajah in her moveset. Her Special Attack would have the guards arrest the opponent and toss them into prison, as they struggle to escape and take damage. Her Musical Finale "A Whole New World" has one the Seven Wonders of the world occasionally pop up in the background to hurt the opponent, as the fight goes on.

Jafar (Aladdin): The Sultan's Royal vizer of Agrabah and one whom believes he should rule Agrabah. Jafar has his magic staff to hypnotize and cast spells onto his foe. Occasionally tapping into the phenenomal, Cosmic power of his Genie form to do some real damage. And Iago is here as well... mostly to complain. His Special Attack would have him become an all powerful Genie and Iago wishing for ways to 'hurt' (not kill) the opponent. His Musical Finale "You're Only Second Rate" would boost all of his stats and attacks, except he can't KO the opponent until the Musical Finale is done.

Simba (The Lion King): King of the Pride Rock and son of Mufasa, the Lion King himself is more than prepared with his claws and iconic roar. His roar can even control the weather to strike lightning and cause windstorms. His Special Attack would have him call on the spirit of his father, Mufasa, as the two of them roar at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Circle Of Life" will have him remember, how we are all connected and draw on the life-force of nature, slowly healing him and giving his roars more range.

Scar (The Lion King): Mufasa's little brother and King after his timely demise, Scar has his claws and his hyenas to make short work of his foe as if their nothing more than a light snack. His Special Attack would toss the opponent of a cliff, into a Wildebeest stampede just like in the movie. As a bonus, he would say 'long live the king's son' if Simba is the opponent. His Musical Finale "Be Prepared" has him do damage without needing to attack the opponent and just walking into the opponent.

Pocahontas (Pocahontas): Daughter of Chief Powhatan, this Disney Princess has the skills necessary in order to survive and win. Her Special Attack would have her people come in to fight alongside her and best the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Colors Of The Wind" gives her attacks more launching power and each dodge she does generates winds that hurt the foe.

Governor John Ratcliffe (Pocahontas): The main villain of Pocahontas, this greedy scoundrel will do anything to claim what he believes is rightfully his. He has a sword and uses his position of power to call his men into the fray. His Special Attack would have his men charge like in the movie at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Mine, Mine, Mine" prevents the opponent from interrupting his attacks and tripping over any gold sticking out of the ground.

Quasimodo (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame): The hunchback of notre Dame himself and quite the sweetheart, he just wishes to see the outside world. His job as the ringer of the bells comes in handy to stun them, swing bells at them, his talented acrobatic skills and surprising strength. His Special Attack would have him reenact the Festival of Fools and have the opponent be caught up in all the chaos. His Musical Finale "Out There" turns all of his bell attacks, into soothing sounds, that heals him.

Esmeralda (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame): An outcasts, like many other outcasts of Notre Dame, she's picked up on a multitude of tricks to evade capture. Such as illusionary tricks to trick opponents and various circus acts from the Festival of Fools. Her Special Attack has Phoebus teleport out of a field of smoke and beat the opponent. Her Musical Finale "God Help The Outcasts" plants multiple pillars of light over the stage, that burn the opponent and heal Esmeralda.

Judge Claude Frollo (The Hunchback Of Notre Dame): Someone whom believes only he can purge the world of evil and that all he does is for the greater good. Frollo, due to his old age mostly uses his sword, his horse and his 'fears' to end the opponent. Those 'fears' being cloaked figures that defend Frollo and burn the sins of his opponent. His Special Attack burns the stage, with the opponent caught up in the flames being tied to a stake. His Musical Finale "Hellfire" burns the opponent every time they hit and touch Frollo.

Arthur (Sword in the Stone): The rightful king of England, proven by pulling the sword in the stone, Arthur is ready to be king. Merlin's apprentice is armed with the sword of legend: Excalibur and his mentor Merlin is there to provide some magic aid by turning Arthur into various animals and predict the opponents attacks with foresight. Arthur's Special Attack has Merlin turn into a germ to infect the opponent. Arthur's Musical Finale "Higitus Figitus" grants Arthur increased weight, almost as if he's the sword in the stone and making him harder to launch and knock away.

Hercules (Hercules): The son of the Greek God Zeus, Hercules goes to prove himself as a true hero and this brawl may be his greatest trial yet. With his power as a Greek God, granting him immeasurable strength, agility and endurance. And his pet Pegasus shows up for aerial attacks. His Special Attack has his father Zeus come in and hurl his thunderbolt at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Zero To Hero" increases his durability each time he pulls off a combo, making him immune to attacks at times.

Hades (Hercules): Greek God of the underworld and lord of the dead, Hades will claim victory. In addition to mastery of fire and smoke, Hades can shift between generally calm and collected, to angered and enraged, which affects the range and power of his attacks. Pain and Panic also shapeshift to provide some help. His Special Attack has the Titans show up and attack the opponent. His Musical Finale "My Town" floods the stage withdead souls that slowly deplete the health of the opponent.

Mr. Incredible (The Incredibles): One of the greatest superheroes whom ever lived, in spite of an unneeded early retirement from the government. Robert "Bob" Parr, known to the public as Mr. Incredible, has his moveset revolve around his superstrength and invulnerability, also being able to use the environment to his advantage like uprooting trees. His Special Attack calls in the rest of The Incredibles; Dash, Violet, Elastigirl and Jack-Jack to help take down the opponent as a family. His Musical Finale "The Incredibles" has his attacks all release shock waves that occasionally make debris hit the opponent, like it's the intensity of a comic book.

Syndrome (The Incredibles): You better catch him while be monologues as he does not play around! The wannabe superhero uses zero point energy to toss the opponent and send objects flying their way. His Special Attack calls in the Omnidroid to make short work of the opponent. His Musical Finale "Kronos Unveiled" forces the opponent to not stand still for too long or repeat the same attacks, or else the Omnidroid will fire lasers at them almost as if their being analyzed.

Mulan (Mulan): From lying to save her father's life, to saving all of China to joining other famous Disney heroes on the field of battle, Mulan has been through a lot. She has a sword, fireworks, a staff and a fan to best her foes. Mushu tags along, spitting fireballs at the opponent and tricking them into attacking smoke illusions that resemble Mulan. Her Special Attack has fireworks hit a snowy mountain, crushing the opponent under an avalanche. Her Musical Finale "Reflections" has Mulan disguise herself and blend in a crowd that slowly came onto the battlefield. The opponent attacking a random person will have them retaliate and hurt them.

Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas): The pumpkin king and the patron of Halloween, his title comes with a wide array of pumpkin bombs, a flexible and detachable skeleton body. His Special Attack would have him trap the opponent in a series of giant pumpkin bombs, before his pet dog Zero lights them up. His Musical Finale "This Is Halloween" plants a series of tricks and treats all over the stage: treats for Jack that heals him and tricks that leave the opponent in a scared state. They take more damage while scared.

Oogie Boogie (The Nightmare Before Christmas): A literal burlap sack of nothing but bugs, Oogie Boogie has those very same bugs come out and harm the opponent. From spiders that tangle them up, to tarantulas that poison them to flies that hoist them up, he's as gross as sounds. His Special Attack would have him inhale the opponent and let his bugs do the work. His Musical Finale "Oogie Boogie's Song" increases his luck of landing higher damage, by also hitting a dice on the stage.

Tarzan (Tarzan): A man raised by apes, Tarzan has the strength to even keep up with apes and survive in the forest. In addition to his amazing strength, Tarzan can also swing from vines, use his impressive smell and hearing to counter attacks and a spear. His Special Attack has him command an army of apes to beat up the opponent. His Musical Finale "Son Of Man" puts fruits on the trees he swings from that he can heal himself with: since the opponent is not Tarzan the same fruits either poison them or make them dizzy.

Yzma and Kronk (The Emperor's New Groove): The former advisor of Emperor Kuzco and her most loyal henchman. Kronk does the fighting with his astounding strength and Yzma will be in the background, occasionally throwing potions on the opponent. Kronk will pull the lever, that will do a variety of things such as drop a bust of Yzma, a giant rock, a vase, etc. Their Special Attack has Yzma yell 'PULL THE LEVER KRONK!' sending the opponent and Yzma down a trap door to below the stage. Leaving it up to interpretation what happens, as Yzma casually walks back to the stage with a crocodile biting her leg. Their Musical Finale "Snuff Out The Light" replaces Yzma's potions with singing that prevents the health bar from going any lower.

Milo J. Thatch (Atlantis: The Lost Empire): An orphan that grew up to be quite the cartographer to even finding the lost city of Atlantis. Since he's not much of a fighter, the friends he made on the trip will do the fighting for him. Vinny plants explosions, Mole digs holes and attacks from the ground, Sweet heals Milo and boosts his durability, Audrey sends vehicles at the opponent and Cookie leaves food for people to trip over. He's even picked up on some Atlantean magic from Kida. His Special Attack has him pilot an Atlantean cruiser, shooting lasers at the opponent. His Musical Finale "Where The Dream Takes You" reverse the opponents controls, every time Milo lands a hit, almost as if their lost without a map.

Kida Nedakh (Atlantis: The Lost Empire): Princess of Atlantis and the current Queen, Kids is armed with a spear and a connection to the Heart of Atlantis, granting her forcefields and runes that dish out the ancient city's might. Her Special Attack summons a giant tsunami with the opponent being hit as Atlantis sinks. Her Musical Finale "Kida Returns" has the stage covered in runes, as the guardians of Atlantis will hit the opponent if they step on a rune.

Stitch (Lilo and Stitch): Experiment 626, also known as Stitch is an alien that befriended the kind-hearted Lilo Pelaki. Stitch is indestructible, has four plasma blasters, can roll up into a ball and lift up to 3000 times his own weight. His Special Attack calls in his cousins to each hit the opponent once, before Stitch himself smacks them with a car. His Musical Finale "Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride" doubles the strength of any attacks timed with the music.

Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean): Captain Jack Sparrow comes to the battle with his signature sword, musket and flintlock pistol. His Special Attack has the Black Pearl ram the opponent and shoot cannonballs at the opponent. His Musical Finale "He's A Pirate" makes him impossible to KO, he can still take damage though.

Sulley and Mike Wazowski (Monsters Inc): The dynamic duo and best friends, Sully and Mike fight with the former scaring the opponent and the latter being pulled from the background, used as a ball to hit opponents. The more combos they land, the more scare is generated as energy: this energy being used to power machines to attack the opponent. Their Special Attack has the stage be overloaded with scare energy, to the point of canisters bouncing all over the stage and hitting the opponent, much like in Monsters University. Their Musical Finale "If I Didn't Have You" makes the opponent laugh each time they hit Sulley, generating energy and leaving them open to attack.

Jim Hawkins (Treasure Planet): Jim Hawkins, someone with the 'makings of greatness' according to Captain Silver has a chance to prove that here. With his solar surfer to pull off some amazing tricks, a knife and a blaster, he can hold his own just fine. His Special Attack would simply be Treasure Planet blowing up, with the opponent caught in the explosion, as he flies away on a ship. His Musical Finale "I'm Still Here" gives him the markings of greatness, in the form of stat boosts everytime he pulls off a trick on his solar surfer.

Captain John Silver (Treasure Planet): The fearsome pirate cyborg and only real father figure to Jim Hawkins, Captain Silver is ready to use those pirate skills from over the years to claim his treasure. As a cyborg, he has a wide selection of tools and weapons, such as lasers, a cybernetic eye, guns, a sword, a cleaver, a battering ram, the list goes on. His Special Attack has the opponent fly into space, while he leaves on a pirate ship. His Musical Finale "I'm Still Here" fills the stage with comets that can freeze the opponent if they come into contact with them and increases the strength of Silver's lasers if they pass through.

Merida (Brave): The Scottish princess and daughter of Queen Elinor and King Fergus, enters the battle with her archery skills and swordsmanship to win the fight. Her Special Attack has her ride in on her horse Angus, delivering a series of arrows to finish off the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Touch The Sky" makes all her arrows hit the opponent, without fail.

Kenai and Koda (Brother Bear): The bear brothers, one born a bear and the other cursed to turn into a bear. Kenai and Koda fight as a team of bears from claws to wilderness skills they picked up. Even the Great Spirits watch over and protect them, by influencing nature to protect the brothers. Their Special Attack has the spirits of Sitka and Koda's mother come in to protect them and deal with the enemy. Their Musical Finale "On My Way" increases the range of their block, with the Great Spirits protecting them.

Tiana and Naveen (The Princess and the Frog): A hardworker that believes the only way you can make it in the world, is through hardwork. Even if that meant kissing a frog. Tiana has a wide assortment of cooking utensils to win. With Naveen distracting them with singing and dancing. They can switch to being frogs, where they use their tongues to tangle up the opponent and hop off lily pads. Their Special Attack has Mama Odie turn the opponent into a series of animals, before sending them away with her Voodoo magic. Their Musical Finale "Almost There" gives Tiana a golden glow that greatly increases the range of their attacks and distracts the opponent with golden glows.

Dr. Facilier (The Princess and the Frog): The Shadow Man himself and one whom turned Naveen into a frog, Dr. Facilier fights with his cane, Voodoo magic, shadows and spell casting. His Special Attack has him pull the opponent into a deal, as their dragged down by the Voodoo Spirits. His Musical Finale "Friends On The Other Side" let's him take a gaze into the opponent's future, turning all of his attacks into counters, if they hit the same time as the opponent's attacks.

Rapunzel (Tangled): The lost princess of the Kingdom of Corona, blessed with magic hair and has quite the efficient frying pan. Her hair can not only heal herself a bit, but can be swung from, tie up the opponent and makes for a surprising whip. Her Special Attack has Flynn and Maximus ride in, with Rapunzel hitching a ride, as the three take down the opponent. Her Musical Finale "I See The Light" fills up the stage with lanterns, that can blind the opponent if they touch any.

Hiro and Baymax (Big Hero 6): The child genius and the helper robot turned fighter have become quite the crime fighting duo, that honor Tadashi's wish of wanting to help people. Baymax does the fighting, with Hiro on his back, such as martial arts, rocket fist, an energy blade and sonic blaster. Their Special Attack calls in the rest of the Big Hero 6, as they teamup and take down the opponent. Their Musical Finale "Immortals" assuming they get the rights to the song has Baymax dodge every attack that comes, without needing to move the controller and slowly heal up.

Judy Hopps (Zootopia): A young bunny from Bunnyburrow that came to Zootopia to pursue her dreams of being cop and help people. Her bunny physiology grants her enhanced hearing, quick agility, high jumping and she has trained herself to take down foes much bigger than her. Her Special Attack has her do her job as a cop and arrest the opponent, with the entire police force joining in to help. Her Musical Finale "Try Everything" plants tourist attractions all over the stage, that can hurt the opponent and heal Judy.

Elsa (Frozen): The Queen of Arendelle and the Ice Queen herself, forced to conceal don't feel, don't let them know. But she'll be doing anything but that here! Elsa has ice powers to freeze the opponent, create pillars of ice, ice slides, ice skates etc. Her Special Attack calls in Marshmallow to deal with the opponent. Her Musical Finale "Let It Go" allows her ice powers to come to life and aid her in battle.

Moana (Moana): Moana of Motuni, whom has sailed the sea to return the Heart of Te Fiti with Maui. She has a harpoon and an oar, along with the ocean helping her and watching over her. Her Special Attack returns the Heart of Te Fiti to Te Fiti, whom fully heals Moana, temporarily boosting her attack. Moana's Musical Finale "How Far I'll Go" covers the stage in water that has boats to hit the opponent and granting Moana faster speed.

Maui (Moana): The Maori Demigod of the wind and sea, with quite the number of feats from over the years. With his magic fish hook, he can shapeshift into a number of animals, his most common being a hawk. His Special Attack being lassoing the sun into the opponent. His Musical Finale "You're Welcome" makes all damage to Maui, take longer to leave an impact.

And that's that. A LOT longer than I thought it would be. Now your probably thinking, what about all the other Disney media? It's an idea for the first game, so other characters (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, Scrooge McDuck, Goliath, Kim Possible, etc.) would appear in a potential sequel.

Or DLC, since every game these days has it.

Thanks so much for reading all this and taking the time to do! I would love to hear some thoughts and feedback! I had a blast making all this and would like to see if you're interested in hearing more video game ideas.

[theunicornamalthea]

Her running had been halted by the cries of anguish and suffering. She had not been expecting that and for a moment almost thought it was her own that perhaps somehow she had been caught. She waited for the drumming of her heart to still and listened. "They are hurt?" she muttered curiously. There had been nothing in her forest to harm her, all life had fled the moment this stage was set. And she doubted a tree was at fault.

She snorted and tried to make herself move forward but couldn't. She couldn't shake the memory of her once upon a time beloved dead on the ground. What if it had been a misplaced creature? She started to head back, they were immortal after all. Two sides of the same coin. But she dared not go in the form they had pursued her in, perhaps appearing as a mortal would ease them enough to find out what is it they want. Her horn? Her hair? Perhaps it was something easily given and they could be on their way. She made her way to the sound as a mortal, growing nearer and nearer to it.

After what felt like years of frantic chasing, jumping over roots and ducking under branches, bal finally realized what he needed to do. He had already been running far longer than he’d normally ever be able to; Mara must have been supplementing his energy. It wouldn’t let him stop chasing her, even if it meant that this body would eventually give out. There was only one recourse.

He launched himself into the night forest, crashing into a tree and sprawling himself out into a bramble patch. Momentum carried him far, leaving him utterly snared. Thorns dug into his skin as he hit the ground with a sickening crunch. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He laid there, allowing himself to wail in pain and desperation. He couldn’t hurt a unicorn, no matter what Mara commanded. As long as she got away, he’d be okay with leaving himself at the mercy of the forest.

[alias-b]

Nothing Lasts Forever.

Summary. The town of Derry changes people. Sends them running away. What it draws in is arguably worse. Humans create the hate and evil monsters come to feed off of. Eleanor Baker knew that well at a young age when she stumbled upon a painted figure in the distance. Pennywise never forgot the girl without fear. It’s possible that they haunted each other.

AN: I take no responsibility for this. Me flexing some horror and hopelessness bc I have nothing left to lose here. Wrote this to work through some things and sorta in love with it. TW: Should be obvious. Trauma. CSA mention. Abuse. S*xual references. G*re. S*icidal thoughts.  Death. Pennywise F*cks and it’s canon. Sorry, Mr. King.

Pennywise x OC Eleanor Baker ~ Also on my ao3

   They say she saw It first.

   They say she smelled the circus. Sugary sweet and the rusting of metal.

   They say she heard the bells toll soft. Once. Twice for her.

   They say she felt no fear.

   A branch cracked under pristine shoes, distracting a clown in the midst of hunt. The prey; small and blue eyed, barely five years old, ran into safe arms where their family set up camp for a weekend by the lake. 

   Body twisting around, It saw her last. Six years old. Curious green eyes shimmered even under grey skies. Pigtails. Feet behind her, father was hunched over to change a tire with mother beckoning from the window. Pulled over to the side of the road near a Derry forest. The Baker family. Well known and beloved because they had money.

   “Eleanor. You’ll ruin your new shoes. We can’t be late for your recital. It’s going to rain!” Mother’s voice went under heard. Leaves rustled while the clown made a path to slink toward her. Her lips parted, eyes fixated and unblinking. Yellow eyes faded to baby blue like the pretty jewels her mother wore. Safe.

   They were face to face. Drool dripped to hit her once untouched shoes. Those bejeweled eyes surged from that delicate blue back to a hungry orange, glowing brighter and yet he smelled nothing. 

   She had no scent. No fear. A deep, wide nothing. Vast as the ocean could reach. There was no advancing, no will to bring forth the deadlights. She’d probably think they were pretty stars watching over her. Cinderella wishing for a fairy godmother and a prince to whisk her away. He could only watch her make an utter fool of him. Somehow that charmed.

   “Eleanor, now!” Came the shout from her father. A drop of red emerged from the trees. Shiny and terrible. “Where did you get that?”

   A red balloon skimmed against the breeze.

   “From the clown.” She said, getting into the car. “He gave it to me.”

   “Enough playing around, Nell.” Father pressed her inside. The grip was lost along the tangled string. That spot of blood floated up toward the endless sky. Became a floating star too. She wished to float with it. 

   Eleanor danced her little heart out. Prima Ballerina in the making. Perfection was not everything, it was the only thing. She gazed into the audience beyond the balmy stage lights. Rows and rows of orange eyes. Glowing into her. No fear to be cast. Not for any of them. This world didn’t deserve it.

   She saw It again that same week. When they attended a big family reunion. Picnic and all. And her uncle pulled her into the closet full of coats and old board games that were gathering dust. He called this a game too. A secret game. 

   After he’d decided the game was over, a pang snatched his heart to squeeze. Gushing. Eleanor saw those glowing eyes from the shadows. Thought for a moment it was the old cat who roamed the grounds.

   Her uncle asked for help with no breaths left. Tore her frilly dress clutching at her. Hit the hardwood with a finishing crack. Blood pooled.

   Nell didn’t want it to stain her shoes or Mother would be upset.

   That white face bent down toward her. Spine curving to push out against skin. Utterly inhuman.

   “Can you smell the circus, Nelly?” Painted lips full of clustering teeth rumbled. She blinked. White cheeks threatened to tear open with the grin curling.

   “Yes.”

   Little, pretty bells chimed in the ruffles of his garment as he laughed. Soft and sweeter than any sound in this world.

   "Who are you?"

   "Pennywise. The dancing clown." He caught her looking at the body behind his feet.

   Big eyes full and empty.

   “Oh, don’t worry about him, he won’t float.” The clown paused. “You’re a little wonder, aren’t you?”

   She said nothing to that.

   “Go on, grow and see if the world devours you. Tumble back to the weeds where I'll find you again.” His own curiosity was a growing sickness. This fragile human. Unbreakable. 

   The thing about Pennywise was he never considered himself the villain. He only came to feed when that evil and hatred humans brought this world was potent. Natural order. Clockwork. Wolves feed on sheep. The worlds spun on.

   Predators tore into prey, he wouldn’t apologize for that. He didn’t create the hatred, just fed from it. Didn't stop it either. Little dash of fear did a body good. Gave it a sweeter taste.

   Fear was painfully human. A trait that tore us open to display the soft underbelly because it betrayed us down to the core. Granted us something to overcome. A test of endurance. Truly let our true colors pour fresh and obscene. Beautiful. Even when it overcame.

   Pennywise gave her head a pat, leaned down to whisper into her ear.

   “I see into your blackest heart of hearts, Nelly, deep down you’ll know. You'll always know.”

   The door opened. Tiny footsteps away from the dark and the figure there always watching her. Like the stars above in a black sky.

   “You’ll know.”

   Eleanor walked downstairs. Out into the sunny day full of festivities and family. Asked her aunt for another piece of cake. Frosted with yellow buttercream flowers. They discovered her uncle in that closet at the same time the flies found him too.

   They found the cloth clutched into his meaty, stiff hand and began to ask questions. She didn’t want to talk about the secret games he played when she was in that house. They sent a bolt of thunder rattling into her brain. Unraveled the synapses.

   Her mother burned the cloth. Vowed to never speak of it in hopes she would forget. Children forgot things all the time.

   Nell never forgot. Not for a moment. Not her uncle or her festering relatives who seemed to easily put her in the back of their memories.

   She wanted them to always remember too. If anything, they owed her that much.

   The pictures her mind fleshed out with crayons were not what children should be drawing. Twisted bodies sometimes. Other days, it was those eyes. Molten lava. Mother and father decided this wasn’t something they could deal with. Seeing her looking so still and motionless around the house like a ghost was too much. Knowing they failed their daughter was just too much. A lock clicked.

   They put her in a place that watched over mistakes of all ages from rich families. Paid it well. They told Eleanor it wasn’t her fault and yet, she was the one locked away in a tower for it. She was the one ignored and doped up.

   Ten years and she gave them nothing. Years of homeschooling. Counseling. Medications. Years of sticking her tongue out to swear she’d swallowed her pills. Years of giving them nothing. No laughter or tears. She never hurt a fly and she was the monster.

   Sometimes, it was easier to become the monster they wanted, she supposed.

   Eleanor got out and married the first man who smiled at her. Called her pretty. Just to be away from mother and father. They’d rot in the weeds soon enough. The rest of her family dwindled. Terrible accidents. She vowed to never reproduce to spite them.

   Husband played games too when dinner wasn’t just right or when she dressed just a little against his wishes. Seven miscarriages. Too many broken promises. A car accident pulled his body apart. Left her with some money to return home. 

   Mother and father needed her now, sick and dying in their lavish beds. Life always went on in Derry. Father went still snug in his tomb a month later. Few more weeks and mother’s harsh insults became apologies.

   This girl she ignored was all she had left.

   “Nell, I hope you can forgive us.” Her mother croaked one day.

   “You’re free to do that, mama.” She’d turned and came to sit on the bed.

   “Do what, my dear?”

   “Hope.” Eleanor tucked some brittle hair from mother’s face. Made room for the pillow she pushed into place. Eight minutes and it was over. Twenty seven years and members of her family dropped like flies. She told herself it was a curse. Or fate.

   Bloodlines dying had never been so beautiful. Not built to last forever. Not at all. There was justice in that much.

   Both Eleanor’s parents became ashes in two ornate urns. She drove them out to the Barrens and poured them into the festering waters. Stinking of Derry’s rotten bowels. Wind swept. Picking up green and brown leaves. Wading the waters to give them some appearance of peace.

   Nell didn’t smell the stink of death. She smelt the circus. Hot buttery popcorn and cotton candy. Twang of metal from the old, rusted rides whirling all directions. A child’s laughter echoed out from the giant pipe ahead. Covered in sludge and moss. 

   She followed the lively sounds. Enticed. No long holding to this world. Another one awaited. It always had. Marked with two glowing orange eyes.

   Reminded her of the lights twinkling every Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns you couldn’t blow out before midnight because it was against the rules and would bring you bad luck.

   Through watery rot and dead leaves, Nell went into the pipes. Caught glimmers of light between cracks. Felt her way. Heard the uttering of the seven children she lost beckoning her home.

   Down.

   Down.

   Down.

   Ruined her clothes in the trance. Clawing for more because the world couldn’t hope to deliver. Into a massive nest with a skylight. Candlelight danced. She heard the trill of a music box until the room came alive. Whirled from rust and rot to marble and gold.

   Prettier than her wedding day. A church with decorated pews of red taffeta. White roses hanging from every corner. Petals crying into the cherry wood floors.

   A man smiled at her who wasn’t Husband. Sharp, brooding face. Swept brown locks slicked like Clark Gable. Pink lips curled and crystalline eyes gave a twinkle. A white suit and one red rose at his breast.

   She came to him when he reached. Body heavier because a dress dragged behind her. Full skirt of those same delicate white roses. Tight bodice that twinkled under candlelight. Nell smiled too. Utterly lost and found all at once in this room that smelled like decadent caramel apples. 

   A gloved hand curled into hers.

   “Am I dead?” She asked.

   “Oh, yes. For twenty seven years now. You wandered the Earth. But, you're home now.” That voice. All shivers. Chilling until the candles started to snuff out. “That was not life, Nelly. You existed by a thread.”

   “Nelly.” She mused in her deepest dream of dreams. The hate and the neglect and the sheer evil brought by humans who were supposed love and protect instead tore her soul far asunder.

   The man leaned in near her hair. Inhaled.

   “Nothing. Even still.” He recounted the memories. All those times he tried and failed to devour her. “Little wonder.”

   "Pennywise." She puffed, barely audible.

   “I watched you dance. All those years. You can dance down here too in the dark."

   Nell realized as he brought her out for a romantic spin. She’d been seeking him out all her life. All the decay and twisting vines in her soul. Begging to just cross over and stop this pain. But, he wouldn’t finish it because she had no fear. So she danced until the room began to peel. He wiped his cheek on one sleeve. Peachy makeup smeared the fabric to display that red smile upon white skin. 

   She pushed off him. Watched blood rain and melt the rest of it away. This place. A nest. A stomach. A pile of trash and metal twisted up toward the sky. Gouging. Figures floating around it. Waiting. Sleeping soundly because evil couldn’t touch them anymore. At the very least. They fueled something brand new.

   No cry. No scream. Nell succumbed. Stumbling back into a worn mattress as the clown crawled up toward her at some inhuman speed. Slapped his hands on either side of her head. They just breathed.

   Existed together in one space.

   Sometimes good and bravery didn’t blossom from overcoming fear. Sometimes you still wanted to die because enduring a lifelong ache was not growth. It just hurt. There was power in it, but it fucking ached.

   It burned. Plenty of things in her life burned. The scorn of her parents. Her uncle's games. The rotten nurses tossing her around. Husband's hands indenting skin.

   But, Pennywise didn’t. He just showed up to watch the fires grow hot and breathless into a black sky. The terrible view was still a breathtaking thing. Something shattering to become a supernova. Rebirth.

   Enduring pain was worth it. That sick curiosity that there was something more to life. It was worth it. So, fight. Endure. Ache. Be human while you have the chance in an inhuman world because it needs you.

   Gloves opened her dress. Tore layers of tulle and chiffon. Slashed silk. Hands pressed against his chest. Not pushing or pulling. Just holding. Shifting over thick, stitched cotton. Ruffles swayed. She felt a heart beat so hard there under her palm.

   He was alive. Something brand new. Not of this world.

   “Am I like you?” She begged finally. Years of searching and asking why. He stopped to see her green eyes. Glowered. One blue, one orange.

   “Not yet.” Was the truest answer he could form. Fingers gripped his fabric sleeves. Twisted just to hold onto something tangible for the first time in all her existence. Alive at last in this place. Water droplets echoed distantly. “You cannot last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

   Except love, she thought. Except desire.

   Pennywise seemed to hear it even still. Felt the truth of it carve out his heart that was still beating powerfully. Profoundly.

   Something flayed her open. Pushed inside. Made her moan deliciously until two gloved fingers touched her mouth. Bodies connecting. Moving together.

   There were hands everywhere. Stroking soft caresses up and down her naked flesh. It felt like a million little pieces of candlelight were swirling up her body. Those same orbs that had been following her around for too many years shined behind his eyes. Resonated. Beautiful.

   She made out parts of him between thumps. Orange hair. Pristine paint. His mouth on her skin. A heart that was pumping vigorously. Low rumbling growls. Nell felt she’d been starved all her life and was finally feeding. Finally letting the ache flood out that she’d held onto for too long. Finally alive. Feeling. Deep down and drawing in it.

   Her voice came to beg for more of him. Hands grasping to touch him back. To delve into this earth and just feel. He touched her everywhere. Lips and neck. Down her breasts. Between spread legs.

   The combined sensations made her cry out for him to never stop. A gloved hand on her jaw brought their eyes together. Hot, wet touch. Boiling. The peak shattered them both. Nell fell to shuddering pieces. Curved up. Moaning and shameless. Weight fell into her body so lips could touch her own. Once. Just once while they were warm.

   Pennywise lifted off fully to see her eyes. Inhaled again and got what he’d sought too. Years and it was finally there.

   Those green eyes glimmered at him. A waft of sweet candied apples bubbled with heat. Fear. Clear as a crystal, dewy morning. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

   There was finally something found that could be lost. Something she sought out and held and hoped for.

   And the fear of losing it was almost too much to bear.

   One gloved finger caught a tear that trickled out from the corner of her eyes.

   “Please.” She said, unable to find much else. Like she wanted him and nothing else for the rest of these long days. Do it. Just do it. Nell’s hand lifted. Gentle fingers drew lines along his face. "Pennywise. Please."

   It was a soft prayer.

   He lunged down. Sunk teeth into her tender neck. Tore the scream out before she could hope to give it. Nell choked there. Made an odd sound like she was laughing. It bubbled. Claws grew out from those gloves. Shoved forth into her raging heart. 

   A squelch.

   Her lips were still upturned when it was done. Green eyes pointed on him. Peaceful and bloodied. Naked under the moonlight. Dripping rubies.

   He tossed his head back and wailed. Teeth sharp and bared. Bloodied. Lost. A shattering sound that bent time and space apart. Pennywise plucked her up. Climbed high and vast to the very top of the twisting pile. Watched the dead children float like little falling stars. Something to make wishes upon. Peaceful for only a second in this life.

   He placed her there in a sheer drape. Closed her eyes. Let the deadlights swelter above them. Spinning all directions. 

   A scar thickened.

   Three days passed. The deadlights danced high and wide. Fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. The world spun on a new axis. Pennywise sat below upon his stage. Curved over in wait. Marble statue. 

   A low rumble like a purr erupted. Dainty feet came to him with a newfound grace. Little dancer. Deadly ballerina all porcelain and blushed. Blood red shoes made soft taps across the stage.

   A white hand touched his shoulder. His little wonder. Bells tolled distantly three times.

   “Can you smell the circus?” Her voice poured white hot. Purring louder so he'd feel it vibrate his own chest.

   Lips curled wide. Split. Pennywise rose to see her in the light. Perfection. Those green eyes shimmering like emeralds. Haunted. Totally alive and willing.

   “Yes.” He hissed. Cupping her face to see the angles. Not ruining the permanent brushstrokes that came with her rebirth. “Yes, I do.” A bond struck.

   I do. I promise. We'll float. Always.

   Nell smiled to match him. Totally and irrevocably his equal. A pulse of light drew them together. She granted him a single kiss, tasting candied. A new horror in this world hungry for the evil it would always bring.

   “We were built to last forever.”

[letterboxd]

Best of the Fests 2020.

From 17th-century werewolves to WWII gremlins to present-day nomads, the stripped-back, mostly virtual 2020 fall festivals still managed to bring the goods. Our team rounds up the very best titles we saw at TIFF, NYFF, the BFI London Film Festival and beyond.

LISTEN: Gemma Gracewood and Ella Kemp chew over their festival favorites in the latest episode of The Letterboxd Show.

Kudos to the teams at the Toronto, New York and BFI London Film Festivals for pulling excellent hybrid festivals together in extremely weird, not-at-all-ideal circumstances. From the always-excellent conversations (and Cameron Bailey’s always-excellent suits) to the hybrid options for viewing, we left feeling hope for our favorite art form.

We have been keeping track, over on our Twitter account, of the many film festivals going online, and it’s safe to say that virtual film festivals—and the wider accessibility they offer—have been a silver lining to this mostly awful year. Indeed, the 58th NYFF was one of Film at Lincoln Center’s most-attended festivals, with 70,000+ attendees in all 50 states and beyond. (We participated in a NYFF Industry Talk, along with MUBI and Rotten Tomatoes, about the future of online film conversation, moderated by Indiewire’s David Ehrlich.)

Attempting to replicate the extreme fatigue of the real thing, our festival team (Ella Kemp, Aaron Yap, Kambole Campbell, Jack Moulton and Gemma Gracewood and—helping us bridge the geo-locked divide—Canadian TIFF regular Jonathan White) disregarded international date lines and dove right in. We saw many films to love, but by consensus (and a poke around your Letterboxd reactions) these are the ones we’re still thinking about.

Lovers Rock Directed by Steve McQueen, written by McQueen and Courttia Newland. The ‘Small Axe’ anthology will be released on a weekly rollout on Amazon Prime Video beginning November 20 with ‘Mangrove’, then ‘Lovers Rock’, ‘Red, White and Blue’, ‘Alex Wheatle’ and finally ‘Education’. Seen at: NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

Lovers Rock, the first part of Steve McQueen’s ambitious, multi-part film project Small Axe, feels like a massive stylistic departure for the filmmaker, in a manner that completely transfixes and astounds. It’s no wonder that this one turned heads at multiple festivals, as it’s immediately warmer, more freewheeling and sensual than any other McQueen work. It’s defined by a hypnotic focus on sound and touch, represented in its earliest scenes with a tactile close-up of a heated comb working its way through hair, and later with its focus on hands wrapped around shoulders, moving across shirts and dresses, people joining together and/or colliding through song and dance. Despite being made for television, it’s astounding how little Lover’s Rock feels that way. Often impressionistic and unbound to the kind of urgency or efficiency that naturally comes with having to adhere to a time-slot, it simply rests in the moment. With the seismic protests being undertaken by Black people this year, Lovers Rock feels like more than welcome respite from a hateful populace—visually rich, gorgeously soundtracked Black joy and love. Also, man, those shirts are incredible. —KC

Nomadland Written and directed by Chloé Zhao. In US theaters December 4. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

“I am already convinced that Chloé Zhao deserves the whole world,” writes Jaime of Nomadland, the TIFF People’s Choice winner. Personal security is something we don’t think about on a daily basis. We have shelter, we can buy food, anything else is bonus. But what if those two basic tenets vanish? While the global financial crisis affected all in 2008, it affected retirees more. Supposedly secure retirement investments vanished; security no more. What do you do? Survive. Zhao’s adaptation of Jessica Bruder’s 2017 non-fiction masterpiece Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century is a beacon of human spirit and survival. It may not be pretty, but it’s real. It’s not something to be embarrassed about, it’s something to be proud of. Those that let this happen to good, honest working people should be the ones embarrassed. —JW

Minari Written and directed by Lee Isaac Chung. No release date announced. Seen at: Middleburg Film Festival.

Minari is the medicine for these tough times. It’s a wonderful, wonderful, deeply personal, utterly serene and metaphysical portrait of America—freedom, faith, superstition, forces of nature, and ambition collide with the costs of intoxicating capitalist dreams, but not without a whole lot of heart. This is elegantly crafted, at once organic in its approach and always sweepingly cinematic. The film’s gentle sense of humor ensures that it never takes itself too seriously and allows the weight of its poetic images and juxtapositions to guide the narrative. The brilliant ensemble should grow to join Steven Yeun as household names (well, cinephile households). Youn Yuh-jung and Alan Kim are bright sparks as the latest classic duo of sassy grandma and precocious grandchild, but it’s Han Ye-ri—taking on the surrogate role of director Lee Isaac Chung’s mother—who provides an overlooked and tender sounding board for familial bonds in fraction. Minari is truly one of 2020’s most invaluable and essential pieces of art, living up to the hype built since Sundance. Korea came to the USA for the Oscars earlier this year, and if 2021 shows similar mercy, there’s a chance you’ll see this home-grown Asian-American picture mounting that stage in future. —JM

Wolfwalkers Directed by Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart, written by Will Collins with Moore and Stewart. Recently released in UK theaters; coming to Apple TV+ December 11. Seen at: TIFF, BFI London Film Festival.

The much-anticipated Cartoon Saloon adventure Wolfwalkers was met with only joy around here. A fable about what happens when a colonizing force tries to tame a wild forest, set during Oliver Cromwell’s Siege of Kilkenny, Wolfwalkers builds to “one of the most sensational animated third acts I’ve seen in years,” according to Animatedantic. The film’s themes are embedded in every hand-drawn line and stroke. “It’s not sleek and seamless and modern,” writes Cow Shea. “This is transparently a true work of art where all the work of that art is part of the finished product.” Mebh and Robyn are animated action heroes for the ages, and you’ll hear a lot about ‘Wolfvision’ in the weeks to come—for very good reason. Werewolf films have, for years, tried different ways to put us inside the beast’s mind, but Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart followed their noses and it’s as thrilling as things get. —GG

David Byrne’s American Utopia Directed by Spike Lee. On HBO and HBO Max now. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF, BFI London Film Festival.

David Byrne’s American Utopia is well on track to join Jonathan Demme’s film of another Byrne stage outing, Stop Making Sense (1984), as one of the highest-rated anythings on Letterboxd. We’re still deciding whether this film is sublime because the stage show itself is sublime, or because Spike Lee has sublimely captured the whole joyous thing for us to inject into our eyeballs, time and again, for far less than the price of a Broadway ticket. Let’s be honest: it’s due to both, and more besides. It’s a blessing upon 2020, of that we are certain. As Clint writes, “The phrase ‘this is the film we need right now’ is such a creaky cliché, but there’s an ineffable feeling that, if David Byrne and Spike Lee can’t heal the world with grey suits, bare feet, and some of the most all-encompassing works of music ever written, no one can.” As my colleague says, “will rewatch to death”. —GG

Shiva Baby Written and directed by Emma Seligman. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF, LFF.

A girl walks into a shiva and bumps into her sugar daddy. What sounds like a joke sets up 77 minutes of note-perfect comedy horror in Emma Seligman’s Shiva Baby, her feature debut adapted from her dissertation short of the same name. It’s funny, horrifying, excruciating and so painfully, accurately Jewish. Isaac Feldberg calls it “cruelly hilarious about everything smothering and inevitably miserable about Jewish family gatherings”, but Seligman’s sharp eye for comedy, her affection for her teen hero Danielle (Rachel Sennott, a bona fide star) just figuring her career out and owning her sexuality (Molly Gordon playing Danielle’s overachieving ex-girlfriend Maya is a highlight) cuts straight to the core, however you relate. Matt Neglia points out how Shiva Baby “captures the behaviors of its characters with the same level of dry wit and detail as the Coen Brothers would”. What a thrill for a young, smart, Jewish, bisexual woman to be setting the pace now. Keep an eye on Seligman’s bright, bright future. —EK

Tove Directed by Zaida Bergroth, written by Eeva Putro. Released in Finland; on the festival circuit elsewhere. Seen at: TIFF.

If there was a film swoony enough to fill the Portrait of a Lady on Fire-sized hole in your heart this year, it’s Zaida Bergroth’s Tove, a bewitching biopic of Finnish author and illustrator Tove Jansson, creator of the beloved Moomin cartoon characters. Set in Helsinki during and post-World War II, the film orbits around her boho world, flitting between her creative struggles as a painter and deep sexual awakening with married theater director Vivica Bandler (Krista Kosonen). As Lillian says, “Lesbians and Moomins is such a huge fucking mood I never wanted it to end.” Alma Pöysti shines effortlessly in the lead role. “The film happens on her fantastic face,” writes Hannu. Seth agrees: “a captivating first-class drama about a world-renowned talent in search of her own identity, love and freedom.” A cozy fall-season perfection. —AY

Shadow in the Cloud Co-written and directed by Roseanne Liang. Slated for a summer 2021 release. Seen at: TIFF, AFI Fest.

A proud addition to the “she did that!” canon, the single downside of Roseanne Liang’s genre-perfect, “deliciously fearless” Midnight Madness winner Shadow in the Cloud is that there was no Midnight Madness to experience it at—but thanks to a juicy sale out of TIFF, we can look forward to a premiere next summer. Chloë Grace Moretz is Maude Garrett, a WWII pilot assigned to transport a highly classified package over the Pacific. The all-male crew of the B-17 Flying Fortress banishes her to the lower ball turret, where they harass, gaslight and leer over her—and that is nowhere near the worst part of this bonkers, non-stop hell flight, which Moretz carries like the future action hero she must now become, if the movie goddesses are listening. —GG

Pieces of a Woman Directed by Kornél Mundruczó, written by Kata Wéber. Coming soon to Netflix. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF.

You will be hearing a lot about Vanessa Kirby in the months to come. Pieces of a Woman is an arresting, often taxing watch, but few actors have delivered a performance as utterly overwhelming as Kirby portraying Martha, a grieving mother processing the loss of her baby. The filmmaking team (Mundruczo and Weber share a “film by” credit) zoom in on deep, jagged pain, and tease out some of the most affecting moments put to screen this year. Jack calls the film “an intensely intimate depiction of mental and marital deterioration caused by tragedy” and nods to master Howard Shore’s “subtle yet potent” score. It’s poetry in motion, with stunning turns from Shia LaBeouf, Ellen Burstyn, Sarah Snook and Benny Safdie also. But proceed with caution: “this film will destroy you”, Alisha Tabilin warns. —EK

Underplayed Directed by Stacey Lee. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF. (Also recommended in our music movies round-up.)

Women-in-the-workplace movies aren’t usually this banging. Stacey Lee’s documentary Underplayed focuses on one corner of the still wildly sexist music industry—the dance-music scene—and lays out both the facts and feelings regarding why women still, always, deserve better. A number of key names guide the story—Rezz, Alison Wonderland, Nervo, TokiMonsta—giving the viewer a taste of what we’re missing out on while booking the same old men, over and over. And it’s not just because of the stats or the injustices that this is a must-watch: in times of limited social interaction and when the feeling of an adrenaline-fuelled crowd feels like a foggy memory, Lee captures some truly electric moments of these women thriving, captivating thousands of music lovers at once. “Buy yourself good speakers and turn them up because this movie is fun and it deserves it,” writes Matt Brown, and he’s absolutely correct. Underplayed is essential and exciting. The most entertaining education of the year. —EK

Another Round Directed by Thomas Vinterburg, written by Vinterburg and Tobias Lindholm. Awaiting new UK date due to lockdown. In US cinemas soon. Seen at: TIFF, LFF.

Another Round reunites filmmaker Thomas Vinterberg with his muse Mads Mikkelsen, in a lads-on-tour buddy movie, except the lads are four middle-aged high-school teachers, and the tour features a very casual, very constant level of intoxication each man commits to in the name of a social experiment. What could possibly go wrong, you ask? Plenty, naturally—but Vinterberg marries the slapstick moments of bumbling drunks falling over themselves with more mature, poignant scenes that question just how far you can or should go to feel that little bit more alive. There’s a lot to love here, but if we’re being very precise, it’s “rock-solid proof that Mads Mikkelsen is one of our greatest actors,” says Karen Han. Come for the wise, contemplative study of youth and spontaneity, stay for rock-solid proof that Mads Mikkelsen is also, somehow, one of our greatest contemporary dancers. —EK

One Night in Miami Directed by Regina King, adapted by Kemp Powers from his own stage play. In select US theaters December 25, coming to Amazon Prime Video January 15, 2021. Seen at: TIFF, NYFF.

Ladies and gentleman, Regina King has arrived. The actor wastes nothing in her feature directorial debut, bringing to the screen Kemp Powers’ vivid stage play of the same name with a heavyweight cast of greats. Kingsley Ben-Adir, Eli Goree, Aldis Hodge and Leslie Odom Jr. are Malcolm X, Cassius Clay (before he took the name Muhammad Ali), Jim Brown and Sam Cooke respectively, as the four men celebrate Clay’s victory over Sonny Liston in February 1964, during One Night in Miami. Rachel Wagner notes how “they all feel like friends and have chemistry, but each with a unique perspective”. This chemistry comes from King’s perfect alchemy of mood, design and structure; she lets her men speak, but her voice is never lost. “Queen King never wavers on her vision until every bit of flesh is torn off each man,” Ben notes, admiring a film that shines for all its famous faces, but stands the test of time for its rich, piercing empathy for every other one waiting in the shadows. —EK

Supernova Written and directed by Harry Macqueen. Awaiting UK and Ireland release due to lockdown; in select US theaters January 29, 2021. Seen at: BFI London Film Festival.

Colin Firth at his very best, Stanley Tucci losing his grip on himself, the luscious Lake District and endless cozy, delicious, warm knitwear. Supernova is every bit as beautiful as it sounds, but also packs a major punch when it comes to mapping a lifelong love story, and the cost of loyalty and pride when you’re fighting against pain nobody can control. As Sam and Tusker, devoted to one another for decades, come to terms with Tusker’s diagnosis of early on-set dementia, there is as much care and sadness as is to be expected, but it still feels brand new and cuts deep. Every good love story is its own. Director Harry Macqueen and his two shining stars understand this better than anyone. —EK

French Exit Directed by Azazel Jacobs, written by Patrick DeWitt. Scheduled for US release January 21, 2021. Seen at NYFF.

Armed with acerbic wit and sharpened claws, Michelle Pfeiffer delivers a vulnerable close-to-career-best performance in French Exit as a mother free-falling from wealth and reconciling with her son, an expertly cold Lucas Hedges. What appears to be formal and dry (“rich white-people stuff”, blegh) is actually wonderfully weird and surprisingly spiritual. There’s a divisive scene at the half-way point that instantly unroots the movie from any grounding we assumed it had established. In any other film, it would open up an entire world of possibilities, but French Exit decidedly treats it as matter-of-fact in order to focus on the emotional journey. It’s the decisive moment—you’re on its wavelength, or you’re overboard—and the rewards for staying aboard are plentiful. Patrick DeWitt’s adaptation of his own novel is in good hands with director Azazel Jacobs. —JM

Still Processing Directed by Sophy Romvari. On the festival circuit. Seen at: TIFF.

A final, honorable mention for Sophy Romvari’s Still Processing, the highest-rated short film out of TIFF, and an excavation of grief like no other. “You’ve got to watch this one twice,” writes Martyn. “First viewing to just weep every two to three minutes. Second viewing to really appreciate how great it is.”

[flowerflamestars]

Isolation just hit me hard, sis, please give me something Nessian

Dark and scary times for us all! Stay safe and well and have the first few pages of the Ivy Moon Epilogue:

Cassian hadn’t worn a white suit since Havana in the thirties, and he’d enjoyed that state of being.

Sighing around a smile, he tugged his cuffs into place. Through the western wall of wide windows that made up Nesta’s bedroom- their bedroom- Cassian could see the snow beginning to fall heavily. The storm glow of the sky was bleeding pink as the day ended, time ebbing low.

The winter solstice had come.

A sacred witch holiday, the youngest Archeron’s birthday- and Rhys and Feyre’s wedding day. There were six inches of snow on the ground already, the longest night of the year promising to be icy cold, and Cassian was wearing linen.

Nesta had kept him company at the fitting, her smirk the brightest thing in the chaos of a particularly gifted pixie tailor’s shop. The owner and her assistants were invisible but for balls of twinkling light, flickering around as pins seemed to appear like magic adjusting the itchy white fabric.

“Has anyone told Fey that all the white is for virginity?” Cassian sighed, faced on three sides by mirrors that told him exactly how blinding the suit was.

Nesta cracked a smile. “Please say that exact sentence to Rhysand."   Somewhere in his brain Cassian had an aside to follow her words, but it got lost as Nesta stepped up to his side. Sliding away the phone she’d been using to unsubtly document the whole process- and from her twitching lips, pass on to Amren- Nesta leaned her head against his arm.

He was never, ever going to get used to the fact that this was his life now.   “Did you know my dress has sparkles?” She asked him, grey eyes dancing as they met his in the mirror. “Sparkles, Cassian.”   Her disgust was so clear he had to laugh. Was finally able to think about something besides the suit Nesta was wearing- blood red, immaculate, a sharp slash in the world she’d worn to a meeting before joining him- and snag her hand.

To anyone watching, Nesta might as well have not reacted at all. But Cassian was a wolf- and how he cherished the skills that came with it as he heard her breathe stutter, witches heart picking up in tempo.

Grinning, he raised her hand to his lips.

And was tapped less than gently on the side of the head by a bobbing pink light reminding him to hold still, Mr. Aquilar, or this will not sit correctly. “My apologizes,” Cassian had managed to say. Nesta’s eyes hadn’t left him once.   The slam of a solid oak door pulled Cassian from his memories, made him start from where he’d frozen, looking at the cold forest that somewhere contained his mate, draped in sparkling silver.   The bedroom door moved again, bouncing, and he took its heed. If he wasn’t used to the incredible hidden depths of Nesta’s affection, the seeming adoption of him into the family by the old witch house was startling.

And he wasn’t smug at all that it sometimes still refused Rhys entry.   Down through the house everywhere was magic, and everywhere was chaos. None of the legion of wedding guests Rhys had invited were arriving quite yet, but the Wild Hunt had come.    In lightening strikes and rolls of thunder, over the last week they’d strode in from the forest- or in one memorable instance, appeared armed to the teeth in the kitchen. Rhysand had tackled Alcheon before the sisters could blink away the strike of electricity, and gotten a knife in the stomach for his trouble.   Feyre still wasn’t done laughing that her dhampir have gotten stabbed by a monk.   Three floors down, Cassian followed the softly vicious sound of Elain swearing to the auxiliary kitchen. The place where the Archeron’s normally brewed potions and today, the cake staging room.   “Putian,” Elain bit out and waved her fingers over the top tier. An apron Cassian was very sure he’d last seen in Azriel’s kitchen was looped twice around her waist.   The dark head of the very brother in question peeked around the doorframe as Cassian came down the hall. It had been all of ten minutes, but Az had already discarded his identical blazer. “Kim Yu-Shin came to fetch Rhys.”   A banner of shining emerald was hanging over Az’s neck. Bare of course- collar already undone and shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, buttercream smeared on one wrist- Azriel’s allergy to formalwear was alive as ever.   “I’m sure Uncle just wanted to have a chat,” Said Elain lightly. It wasn’t a tone that inspired confidence in the pleasantness of that talk. She set down the piping bag she’d been wielding and snapped fingers over the cake. Like ignition, it caught, sparked.   The room filled with the scent of bonfires. Vanilla and smoke, cinnamon drifting up to cold clear October skies. And there in the pale frosting, embers floated and lived, mingling with silver-gold decorations.   The green resolved itself to be Lucien’s long hair, moving as he raised a sleep rumpled face from the back of Azriel’s neck to bare sharp teeth at Cassian. “She means we might need to go hunt down your brother in case he’s hog tied naked in the woods.”   Cassian grinned back. “I think the only thing in danger is his suit, then.”   “So life or death for Rhys,” Az replied, absently shifting until Lucien’s chin was looped more comfortably over his shoulder. “Do we know if he picked out the two toned velvet, or Feyre?”   “Feyre,” Anwsered two voices from the doorway.   On long legs, a pink haired welsh giant who’d been blond the last time Cassian saw him slid into the already crowded room.   “Green suits you, sapling.” Oberon crossed his arms, smile undimmed through exhausted eyes.   Lucien’s gaze danced, “Not as good as you in pink, old one.”   Cassian hadn’t needed to guess where the new color had come from. He’d met the Iron Knight- the bloody nightmare of the last faerie civil war, a changeling who’d wielded cold steel against the Seelie Queen herself- when he was mid apple fight with Lucien. One minute he’d been walking with Elain, and the next a massive unseelie warrior had dropped silently from one of the orchard trees to smash Lucien in the face with a honeycrisp.   Oberon laughed, the sound echoing, and redirected his attention to greet Az. “Azriel Esfandiyār Aguilar.”   A cool hand caught Cassian’s and he turned to allow the sight of Nesta, one step behind Oberon, to sweep over him like a tide. The dress did indeed sparkle- but spelled alteration had turned that mortal glitter to the shine of falling snow, every inch of silver white fabric as light and fine as the lattice of frost over leaves.   Silk, sliding over the skin of the most beautiful woman Cassian had ever seen.   Even cloaked- she was wrapped in a gauzy more truly silver wrap, arms and waist and neck, screened like enchantment-he had to swallow, heart in his throat as Nesta raised her eyebrows, knowing smile twisting that perfect mouth.   The problem with the Hunt- the lethal, ancient thirteen beloved of Acherons- was that they had to follow their own rules. Until you became something- familiar, known, quantified- full names mattered.   But Oberon only inclined his head to Cassian, and Cassian nodded back, grateful.   Elain drew the elder dryad into conversation, but once the moment of introduction had passed, Cassian had honestly stopped listening. Instead, he stepped closer to Nesta, leaning down. “Hi.”   Ice littered her hair from the falling snow, just beginning to melt and darken so much gold. The scent of fire- flame and moonlight, his magic still dancing over her- had announced Nesta’s incoming radiant presence to him before she’d even made it into the house.   How could the snow even touch her?   “Hello,” Nesta answered, soft as a secret. Close, her skin carried so much of his touch Cassian’s wolf wanted to roll in it.   And was smiling like she knew it.   This- this was the problem.   Secrets that his heart and magic and being crowed to the star scattered sky if anyone was paying attention.

Nesta, a sword and shield between the living and the dead, was so different as to not have to worry about anyone plucking up her feelings from the air.

Here Cassian was- a new last name curled golden in his mouth, a wedding band hidden around his neck, a glamoured tattoo on his ribs, and happiness pounding in his blood.   He couldn’t contain it.

[nightowlgazette]

Bela Lugosi Is (Un)Dead

Los Angeles is the home of entertainment, the beach, and even some specters that haunt some places that might make you feel like you’re in a classic horror movie. The place is known as the “City of Angels” might be filled to the brim with the ghosts of ages past. Especially those who have once graced the silver screen or even your TV screen at home. 

Today, the city is best known for the bright lights, big stars, and the Walk of Fame that pays homage to many who have made a name for themselves in entertainment. But is there a spirit of some celebrity hanging around their star?

We may not be able to answer that question definitively, but what we can do is point you to the places that might.

With that, join us as we take a look at the Top 10 Most Haunted Places in Los Angeles.

10. Hollywood Forever Cemetery

First on the list is the cemetery that is the final resting place of many celebrities. With names like Mal Blanc, Fay Wray, Gary Golden and more, a stroll can quickly turn into a game of “you name it, they’re probably here”.

One of the known hauntings that most visitors have recounted was the sound of a woman crying by the lake that is located on the grounds of the cemetery. Some have said that the woman may have been that of Virginia Rappe. Rappe was a silent film actress who passed away in 1921. Her death was said to be linked to a fellow film actor named Fatty Arbuckle. While Arbuckle was cleared in the connection of her death, some historians beg to differ.

Many visitors have often found figures and apparitions milling around the cemetery grounds, with most of them wearing clothing from the periods of when they were still alive. So it may not be unusual to see a specter dressed like they were from the 1950s.

9. Hollywood Pantages Theatre

When charmed businessman Howard Hughes owned the infamous Pantages Theatre, he built a door that connected his office directly to one of the theater balconies, where he would go to think in the dark. Hughes’s ghost is a notorious workaholic, and is said to be seen in his former office on the second floor.

According to legend, during the restoration in 2000, people said they saw a man stepping off the balcony, walking along the scaffolding, and standing over a worker to inspect his work. When the guy turned to ask the man what he wanted, the figure vanished.

The Pantages is also host to a female presence who died during a show in 1932. Apparently, during a cast recording, microphones were set up in the theater and they heard someone singing in the mic when no one was on stage. Some say the woman who died was an aspiring singer who’s living out her unrealized dreams of performing at the Pantages.

8. The Culver Studios

The studio complex where such legendary Tinseltown films as Gone with the Wind and Raging Bull were filmed was built in 1918 by silent movie pioneer Thomas Ince. Ince died in 1924, after falling ill on newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst’s yacht during a star-studded cruise and dinner, celebrating Ince’s 42nd birthday. While the official cause of death was listed as heart failure, legend has it that Ince was actually shot and killed by a jealous Hearst, who was supposedly aiming at (and missed) Charlie Chaplin, who had eyes for Hearst’s mistress Marion Davies. Some say Ince’s ghost still shows up for work at his beloved former studio, and can be seen and heard walking through walls and criticizing management.

7. The Queen Mary

Famous for its Halloween event, Dark Harbor, but the Queen Mary in Long Beach is certifiably haunted according to the countless visitors who claim to hear voices and rattling chains during tours and overnight stays. The Queen Mary certainly has a past that’s ripe for modern-day hauntings. She started life as a luxury liner, setting forth on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England, in 1937, and hosting everyone from Bob Hope to Winston Churchill. But when WWII began, the Queen Mary was drafted into service as a ferry ship, carrying thousands of troops into battle areas. The fancy lady was stripped of her chic facade, painted a camo grey and dubbed the “Grey Ghost.” After years of service in war, and at her majesty’s whim, the Queen Mary was eventually sold to a tour operator and sent to retirement in Long Beach, where she’s been a floating hotel and event spot since 1967. According to the late psychic and ghost hunter, Peter James, who led tours around the Queen Mary, almost all areas of the ship including the second class pool deck and engine room 13 are known to be haunted.

6. The Haunter Forest and Cobb Estate

Avid hikers will recognize this spot as the Sam Merrill trailhead, “a quiet refuge from people and wild life forever”—so reads the dedication on the cobblestone gate of the Cobb Estate. But to ghost hunters, it’s the Haunted Forest.

The sparse forest didn’t seem so haunted until the 1950s, when the Marx Brothers purchased the land and temporarily saved the dilapidated mansion from destruction—in the process turning it into a favorite haunt for squatters and ne’er-do-wells.

Today, you’re more likely to find curious teens at night wandering around what’s left of the house’s foundation; though ghost sightings are non-specific, many report ghostly noises on the surviving staircase and the feeling that they’re being watched in the dimly lit forest.

5. Griffith Park Old Zoo

A lot of people who may have heard or seen spirits will describe them as a man, woman, or child. But not every spirit might be of human form. The Old Zoo located in Griffith Park might be such a place where the spirits of even unhappy captive animals may be heard or possibly seen at night. By the daytime, it’s a really popular picnic area where friends and family can hang out and enjoy the day.

This was the first-ever zoo to be established in Los Angeles. And it was home to many lions, bears, monkeys, and several other animals. If you want to check out a place at night they might not be a walk in the park for the faint-hearted, this could be something to check out.

4. “The Entity” House

The Entity House might just look like some ordinary house located smack dab in the middle of suburban Los Angeles. But the home is known for having a story that was published into a book (and later adapted into a horror film that earned the house its name). The house was believed to the be sight of a series of hauntings with one victim recalling so many stories of each haunted happening.

While the story of “The Entity” may seem to live on forever in books and movies, the home may still have a story of its own to tell of things never been told. Are there spirits still haunting the home? What other stories that have yet to be heard that may have never been revealed in either the book or film adaptation? We will discuss the history of the home and the stories that have given it the reputation of being one of the most haunted places in all of Los Angeles.

3. Beverly Hills Bermuda Triangle

Even in the trendy neighborhood of Beverly Hills, there’s always a place that has some kind of strange presence. This part of 90210 is no stranger to some weird things. Billionaire and aviation enthusiast Howard Hughes was said to have crashed into a few homes in the neighborhood. Fortunately, Hughes survived the crash. 

However, this area was also the site of a couple of high-profile homicides. One of them was the murder of Bugsy Siegel in 1947. Nearly sixty years later, a Hollywood publicist named Ronni Chasen was shot while driving in her car. She later died shortly afterward when she collided into a light pole as she attempted to flee the scene.

Over the years, some celebrities who came across this part of LA often found themselves in weird, if not, near-death situations. One such case was when musician Jan Berry of the 1960s group Jan and Dean was nearly killed in a car crash while driving and turning a sharp curve.

2. Hotel Roosevelt

Legend has it that the ghost of Marilyn Monroe still haunts her old stomping grounds. Until a few years ago, there was a famous mirror in the lobby where people would take pictures and claim they could see Marilyn’s reflection above them. The full-length mirror that once hung in Monroe’s poolside suite, and then in the lobby where it has since been removed. On the ninth floor, you can hear the late actor Montgomery Clift—who lived in suite 928 for three months while filming From Here to Eternity—practicing on his trumpet. During their stay, many guests have asked the hotel staff to tell the guest in the next room to stop playing in the middle of the night, only for the room to turn out to be vacat. What’s more? Lights and faucets are known to turn on and off on their own and the switchboard gets calls from vacant rooms.

1. Bela Lugosi’s Apartment

Bela Lugosi was another one of the acting greats in the horror film genre. For those that don’t know, his famous role was Dracula. It was known that Lugosi would always visit his favorite cigar shop every day on Hollywood Boulevard. When he died, the mortician could not have told a crazy story like the one of what happened while driving Lugosi’s body to the funeral home.

The funeral procession was supposed to go towards the cemetery in Culver City. However, the horses that were carrying the coffin had started to fight the driver. The driver wanted the horses to go right, however, the horses drew the hearse to the left. The horses went through oncoming traffic and down the boulevard. Turns out, Lugosi had gone daily to buy cigars and read the newspaper on Hollywood Boulevard. The horses stopped right in front of the shop that he frequented. 

Some have said that Lugosi’s spirit may have played a role in that apparent incident. Possibly as a way to say goodbye to the place that he called home for much of his acting career. But ultimately,  no one would ever be able to explain what really happened.

Eliot Wilde, journalist and writer for Night Owl and host of Night Owl FM

[vikireedphotography]

The Cigar Is All You See

THE CIGAR IS ALL YOU SEE

First, do no TV:  how badly do you want to make it in Hollywood, doctor?  

FADE IN:

I/E.

A HOTEL BANQUET ROOM/OUTSIDE ENTRANCE-NIGHT

An EASEL holds a foam board telling us that inside the dark room-twinkling with spores of glittery tables, is the 2021 American Board of Radiology Conference.

Photos of two men are the evening’s GUEST SPEAKERS:  GREG CRANDON, 53 and BEN HAMMIL, 52.  Crandon is a bit pale, thinning hair on top scalp, bulging but happy eyes. He is posing with TV actor MATT KISLEYAK, 54. Matt is charismatic, and wears his TV-doctor’s uniform, Crandon is ‘on-set’ with Kisleyak and posing with an arm is around the shorter Crandon.  Under the photo it reads:

“Radiology Consultant to Hollywood, Greg Crandon (with “Med Lives” star, Matt Kisleyak).  The second photo is Hammil, who looks more like a TV star than a radiologist. Tall, long reddish hair. His photo depicts the smiling Hammill standing on a Ted Talk stage pointing and smiling.  It’s captioned: “Welcome Ted Talk Keynote Speaker on AI and Radiology, Ben Hammil of Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles”  

INT. BANQUET ROOM/BEYOND THE EASEL & SIGN-SIMULTANEOUSLY

In a reverse fractal, Dr. Ben Hammil is on-stage, preaching new gospel.

BEN

Twenty-two years in radiology. I’ve missed things. You know what sees everything? Machine learning. Check this out.

Ben lifts a POWERPOINT REMOTE AND CLICKS!

A massive projection screen behind Hammil fills with what looks like a photo quilt of chipmunk faces (tight crops of just the eyes, nose and whiskered mouth).  

BEN (CONT’D)

Chipmunks. Cute. Sixteen-hundred chipmunk faces. Do you see the cat?

CUT TO:

VIP TABLE/ORCHESTRA SEAT LOCALE-CONTINUOUS SOUND OF: BEN HAMMIL’S VOICE-CONSTANTLY.

Greg in a slightly old-school tux joins his wife, ANDREA, 47.  

In trying so hard to look younger, she forgets to be young. Everyone but the WIVES in the room are fixed on Hammil’s presentation.

ANDREA

(To Greg)

Can you get Matt’s autograph for Penny?  

Andrea’s body language tightens after she notices cocaine on his nose. She grabs a napkin, wipes it. No one sees the coke.  Just her ‘mothering’ him.

Fellow attendee and table-mate LEO, 42, now distracted.

LEO

(To Greg)

You missed Hammil’s award.

GREG Oh well.

LEO

Saw his Ted Talk. I played golf with him-played near him.

GREG

It’s just a tool, this software. A computer can’t deliver bad news or hold a box of Kleenex.

Greg gestures to a passing SERVER for another round of drinks.  He pivots to PENNY, 36, pretty, blond trophy wifetwo small children later.

GREG (CONT’D) Penny? I’ll get you Matt’s autograph.  I’m going to the studio tomorrow.

Penny is electrified. She points at Ben and announces to all:

PENNY

Out of everyone tonight he’s the most interesting and ground-level.

She catches herself when she sees Greg’s reaction.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOLLYWOOD SOUNDSTAGE/PRODUCTION OFFICE FOR “MED LIVES”NEXT DAY

Greg drives his bronze BMW convertible to the GUARD-GATE. A familiar GUARD, 39, waves him through.

Moments later, Greg strides, getting tanner the closer he gets to the the SOUNDSTAGE DOOR. He glides past Matt Kisleyak’s RED FERRARRI. It’s parked next to the door. A sign designates: “Reserved for Matt Kisleyak/Med Lives.  

CUT TO:

INT.

SOUNDSTAGE FOR “MED LIVES”-CONTINUOUS

It’s a magical forest of cables, wisteria hanging lights, cameras, crew, fake hospital sets, ACTORS in costume, CRAFT

SERVICES TABLE loaded with EVERYTHING you could ever want. Willy Wonka time.

KEN (O.C.) Dr.Crandon?

KEN GOLDISH, 37, is one of the show’s Producers. Greg wheels in the direction of his voice.

CONT.

The two walk a hallway lined with POSTERS of MED LIVES’ CAST in character. Ken is ahead and faster.

GREG

(Holding a zip drive and script.)

I have the notes on the next show. Just a few minor details.

Ken turns to see Greg brandishing his work.

KEN

(Takes the thumb-drive.) Keep the script.

They stop at the last door.

What did Matt want to see me for?

KEN

(Knocks twice) He’ll tell you.

CUT TO:

INT.

MATT’S OFFICE-FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER

Greg is seated next to Matt’s desk. The blinds are closed, the only light comes from a large computer monitor.

As Matt sits and shares the glow with Greg you see an unbelievably photogenic man.

GREG

(Staring and smiling at Matt.)

This isn’t ideal. You should send the full study to my office at the hospital.

MATT

Not gonna happen. It’s a favor for a good friend. I’m looking out for him. A secret second-opinion.

Greg nods into gear with a deep breath.

CUT TO:

30 MINUTES LATER-

The star is opening the blinds. He turns around and saws his palm into Greg’s personal space.

MATT

Thanks so much for doing this.

GREG

I’m sure it’s not what you wanted to hear. Your friend definitely has stage-four lung cancer. I couldn’t tell more without labs, biopsies-

Greg stands to meet Matt’s goodbye shake.

MATT

Keep this between us?

Matt opens door. Greg pulls the rolled MED LIVES script out of his suit pocket.

GREG

I’m sorry, but a friend of my wife’s..

MATT

(Grabbing a pen.) What’s her name?

GREG

Penny. Thanks for that. I never ask, but the wife...

MATT

Got it. Hey, I’m hosting a celebrity golf tourney this weekend at Hillcrest Country Club. For Children’s Hospital. You play?

CUT TO:

INT. GREG’S HOME OFFICE, WOODLAND HILLS,CA-NEXT EVENING

A man-cave with no man. It resembles a furniture store display. The only indicator of human occupancy is a box of Just For Men hair dye. He stands before a full-length mirror wearing new golf-wear. Looks a little ‘back to school’.

PRICE TAGS are strewn at his feet.  He snips the last tag from his BELT.

CLOSE ON: BELT/SCISSORS THE TAG READS $169.00. After a snip, it flutters down onto his new shoes. It’s quiet until-

ANDREA (O.C.)

Christ. You could go as Tiger Woods for Halloween.

GREG

Not really funny. Did you want something?

ANDREA

(Sour.)

Dinner. It’s here.

(Taking a last look, then starts to undress.) Good. I’m hungry.

FADE OUT:

EXT. HILLCREST COUNTRY CLUB-FOLLOWING MORNING

The celebrity event buzzes, it feels like a Christmas tree you could live-in.

INT. HILLCREST DINING ROOM-CONTINUOUS

Cacophonous. Seen from above, Greg disappears into a crowd of

JOURNALISTS, CELEBS, TV CAMERAS, FAMILIES OF PEDIATRIC CANCER PATIENTS, BUSY STAFF, CLUB MEMBERS and people dressed like PEANUTS CARTOON CHARACTERS.

A BANNER ABOVE AN EMPTY PODIUM AT THE BACK OF THE ROOM READS:

“Children’s Hospital Of Los Angeles Annual Celebrity Golf Event 2021”

Hearing Matt from behind a potted tree he eagerly rounds the corner.

It’s Matt with Ben Hammil and a few others. Laughing. Drinking.

GREG (TO SELF) Fucking guy...

Matt turns around. Seeing Greg, he’s not unhappy but there’s no reward in seeing him. Greg bounds over, socially awkward in Ben’s presence.

MATT

(To the group.)

This is Greg Crandon. He’s the Doc who makes Dr. Morrow sound like he went to medical school. Hey, Greg, this is one of your radiologist tribal members: Ben Hammil.

GREG

Yeah, we shared a bill at a radiology convention last week. I was keynote.

BEN

It was actually fun. Like an extended Ted Talk.

ANOTHER MAN IN THE GROUP Oh, that’s where I know you from!

MATT

Greg we’re doing a Four Man Cha Cha Cha wager; the losing team coughs up forty-K for the charity. You’re in, right?

GREG

Forty? It’s in my car.

The group laughs.

GREG (CONT'D) Will you excuse me?

Greg breaks away and rushes to the MEN’S BATHROOM.

CUT TO:

INT. HILLCREST DINING ROOM-TWENTY MINUTES LATER

Most of the crowd spills onto the fairway path, outside. Greg hustles to catch-up.

CUT TO:

EXT. FAIRWAY PATH-CONTINUOUS

Greg approaches the REGISTRATION TABLE.

An ATTRACTIVE SWEDISH FEMALE CLUB STAFFER, 23, is dispensing Team Badges, which are mounted on a valet’s keyboard behind her.  The teams are named after Peanuts Characters.  Greg squints to see the SNOOPY Team, which is led by Matt.

FEMALE STAFFER (O.S.) Good morning! What’s your name?

GREG

Greg Crandon? I think I’m a Snoopy, on Matt’s team.

FEMALE STAFFER

Here you are.  You’re a LINUS!

Matt invited me personally, I’m sure I’m a Snoopy.

FEMALE STAFFER It’s a perfect day for a game, you’ll have a great time.

The Staffer dangles the Linus Team badge. Greg takes it.

As he approaches, A GOLF CART WHIRRS away: Ben Hamill is the driver, Matt’s his co-pilot.

They leave a wake in the COLLECTIVE MEDIA bush they pass.

CUT TO:

INT. GREG'S BEDROOM-2 DAYS LATER-EARLY MORNING

He’s on his back, snoring.

ANDREA (O.C.)

Get up! Get up! Matt’s dead! Greg! Wake up!

GREG

(Slowly waking.) What are you talking about?

Andrea turns on the bedroom TV.  Live local news broadcasts the scene outside of Matt Kisleyak’s home in Malibu.

CUT TO:

CLOSE ON:  POLICE TAPE, BODIES BEING ROLLED TO THE CORONER’S VAN.  

The CAPTION READS: “MATT KISLEYAK, STAR OF ‘MED LIVES’,

BELOVED HOLLYWOOD STAR, WIFE AND SON DEAD: SUSPECTED CARBON MONOXIDE POISONING...”

GREG No! What?

CUT TO:

EXT. HOLLYWOOD SOUNDSTAGE/SECURITY GUARD GATE-1 HOUR LATER

Flowers and memorials nearly block the entrance.  

GREG

I have to see Ken Goldish.

GUARD

No one on the lot today without approval. Given what’s happened I cannot do anything. Have Ken call me. Turn around and go park on the street.

Stressed, Greg scrapes his BMW on a concrete safety stanchion.

CUT TO:

INT. KEN GOLDISH’S OFFICE-15 MINUTES LATER

Ken is on the phone with Greg, while multitasking.  A MEMORIAL VIDEO is playing on the production monitor in his office. People on-set and walking by the open door weep.

KEN

(Puts Greg on

SPEAKERPHONE)

The show is obviously going to shutdown until the writers find an appropriate way through Matt’s death. Listen, we can’t have people talking to the press about what Matt did.

GREG (O.S.) What did he do?

KEN

His son, Liam’s cancer. You know, you saw his MRI.

GREG (O.S.)

He said it was a friend of his.

KEN

No. Liam collapsed at college. He’s been living at Children’s Hospital on and on for months. I don’t know if Lily chose to die but everyone was drugged and he closed the windows and messed with his central air...No more pain.

GREG (O.S.)

Can I call you when the show is back up? I think I have an angle on

AI-

KEN

Seriously not the time.  I gotta go. I’ll let you know about the memorial if you want, okay? Bye.

CUT TO:

INT. GREG'S HOME OFFICE AGAIN-ONE HOUR LATER

Greg saunters through his open office door head-down.

The sound of a GARDENER BLOWING LEAVES IN THE FRONT YARD IS A CONSTANT.

ANDREA (O.S.)

(Popped like a cork.) What did you do?

Andrea is sitting at his DESK; it’s littered with the golf clothing TAGS, the autographed script, she’s been rummaging.

GREG My desk..

ANDREA

I answered your office line.

Children’s Hospital Charity Committee something or other called to say they can’t refund your fortythousand dollar donation but they’d be happy to provide you with a tax form so you can declare it.  Were you trying to impress Matt Kisleyak?

GREG Be quiet.

She throws the price tags at his face.

She sits at his desk and lifts the office phone receiver.

ANDREA

I’m calling that charity and telling them you can’t be held responsible because you have a drug problem and I will sue them if they don’t return the forty-thousand.

She dials the Charity’s number, taking it from the tax form.

GREG

I’m warning you-

ANDREA

Now you’re a man, right?

Greg walks towards her, automatically, instinctively. She backs-up to get space between them.  

Now they’re both behind his desk.

GREG

We’re are so done.

In one freakish rage he grabs his office chair and swings it at Andrea. The wheeled feet break her jaw as she drops to the floor.

Greg tosses the chair aside blood from the wheels casts off all over the MED LIVES SCRIPT.  He stands over the whimpering disoriented Andrea and begins to stomp her into a near coma.

He continues as we FADE OUT.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOLLYWOOD-45 MINUTES LATER

Greg is walking up HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD.  Another sunny day.

Surrounded by TOURISTS, WORKERS, WALKERS, SHOPPERS, and CHARACTER ACTORS hawking for tips dressed as DEAD HOLLYWOOD. They appear to be moving on a giant treadmill.

MOMENTS LATER-

The WALK OF FAME STARS peel away under Greg’s feet until he see’s Matt Kisleyak’s STAR with a growing memorial. He looks down at the bloodied LIVES MED SCRIPT UNDER HIS ARM.

Greg enter a crosswalk against traffic.

FLASHBACK TO:

THE ABR CONFERENCE-BEN HAMMIL’S SPEECH ABOUT PERCEPTION.

SEE: IMAGE OF THE BRICK WALL WITH A CIGAR PINCHED IN-BETWEEN TWO-BRICKS.

BEN

At the top we see a garden variety red brick. All of it’s -

RETURN TO PRESENT-HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD HEARING HAMILL’S VOICE.

BEN (V.O.)

-flaws, pores, grit and different colors up close. So many facets and defects.  Below that image we see a brick wall.  However once I tell you that there’s a cigar stuck in that wall? That’s pretty much all you see now. Humans make a choice, AI just sees everything...

CLOSE ON:  TRAFFIC LIGHT ‘DON’T WALK’ SIGNAL.

Greg quickly turns around and RUNS into traffic.

SOUND OF:  SCREECHING TIRES. A SICK BANG AND CRACKING THUD. CARS REAR-ENDING. HORNS.

CUT TO:

CLOSE ON:  THE AUTOGRAPHED ‘MED LIVES’ SCRIPT. BLOODIER, ON THE SIDEWALK.  

A MAN, 29, GRABS IT AMIDST THE CHAOS BEHIND HIM.

MAN

(Into his cel phone.) Bae?  I have some good news and better news.  You know how Matt Kisleyak croaked today? I’m the proud owner of an script autographed by him. YES. The better news is it’s covered in blood.

FADE OUT.