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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter eleven: art whores

After they had had their cups of coffee, and Sam took the honor of checking out of the hotel for herself, she stayed in the passenger seat next to Dan with her shirt off the whole hour long drive up to Boston. He had rolled up his otherwise short sleeves up to his shoulders, and showed off his muscular arms all the while; he also had borrowed a little rubber band from inside of the glove box; his mirrored sunglasses reflected the early morning sunlight the whole entire way up the freeway. Every so often, she took a glimpse behind her to Joey, who had propped his hair over the back of the seat so it would be up off of his neck. He squinted his brown eyes against the amber sunlight and he bowed his head a little bit from the intense glow over the continual skyline of small towns to the right.

“We're gonna swing by another hotel to pick up Frankie,” Dan finally said at one point over the roar of the freeway

“Sounds good!” Sam declared as she gave her dark hair a slight toss back.

They took the next exit off of the freeway into a part of town near the Massachusetts state line: there was in fact a little hotel there and Frank stood under the exposed stone stairwell with his lush dark hair sprawled over his shoulders like the floppy ears of a dog and his mirrored sunglasses upon his face; Sam thought about Joey's old apartment at the very sight of him. He nodded at them and showed her a grin once they rolled up to the parking spot before him.

“Hey, all o' youses,” he greeted them; Joey slid to the seat right behind Dan, and Frank climbed in next to him.

“I like this look, by the way,” he said to Sam.

“I got hot last night,” she explained with a shrug.

Joey muttered something to Frank, which brought a little chuckle out of him.

“What's goin' on back there?” Dan demanded.

“Fuhget about it,” Frank said with a wave of his hand, and he buckled into the other passenger seat.

They rolled out of that spot and doubled back to the freeway for the rest of the way up to Boston.

Sam thought about what Zelda and Belinda had said the night after Cliff died, and she knew she was doing them justice by being in that car with those three men. She was headed for yet another brand new place that she never really knew about before and had only dreamed of in the past. She knew she would have to put her shirt back on at some point, but the feeling the cool coastal breeze on her chest and belly was something she hadn't done before, not even back home in California.

Within time, the skyline emerged under the amber sunlight: Sam spotted a large Cisco sign off in the distance. It seemed like the kind of place that had only cobblestones for streets and had horse carriages all around. When she peered out the window and beyond the freeway, she spotted a few alleyways down below that did in fact have those old earthy faded cobblestones all underneath the lush green oak trees. She wondered if it really was how she believed it to be once Dan took the next exit for the venue, a long low dark building called the Paradise Rock Club, nestled down in the heart of downtown about a block from the freeway: if she didn't know better, Sam swore it was movie theater, especially since the black sign over the front doors read ANTHRAX, TESTAMENT, and special guests THE CHERRY SUICIDES in large white lettering.

“This is also the very first time we're touring here, too,” Dan explained as he rounded the corner to the back alleyway.

“What better way to celebrate than for a couple of dates,” she exclaimed.

“Right?” Joey laughed.

“I guess this place is literally right by the college,” Dan continued, “so we might be seein' a lot of people of your caliber tonight.”

“I hope so,” said Sam. They rolled up to the pale white back door, which hung slightly ajar for them. Once Dan killed the engine, Sam put her top back on and fixed her hair before she climbed out with them. They were alone there, but Frank rounded the back side of the car and joined up with her.

“Can I tell you something?” he started in a soft voice. “This has just been—eating at me for a while now.”

Dan held the door for them, and she and Frank stepped into the cool, dimly lit back hallway first. Joey sauntered past them towards their dressing room, and then Dan followed suit.

“Hey, Joe—wait up—” he called after him, and that left Sam and Frank alone; he took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt collar, and then he ran a hand over his smooth crown of lush dark hair.

“What's up?” she asked him.

“Really hope you don’t get mistaken for a groupie,” he admitted in a soft voice.

She frowned at that. “Why’s that?”

“Because groupies are often seen as whores or just women who sleep around with the band. I don’t want my best friend to be seen like that.”

“They won’t know that, though,” she said, albeit with a nervous feeling in her stomach.

“But that’s always the assumption, though,” Frank insisted. “You can’t stop people from assuming shit about you, even when you know in your heart that it’s not true. Not saying I don’t want you around—not at all. I love the fact you’re going to be with us for most of the summer. But what I am telling you is what you’re about to see when you come along with us more and more. And if you don’t believe me, let me show you what the people have been saying about your girls, the Cherry Suicides. Calling them the ‘n’ word, especially Morgan and Minerva; calling Rosita ‘fake’ because of her nails; calling Zelda a skinny bossy bitch. All kinds of nasty shit. We love and embrace our female fans, but most of our crowds don’t. How have they acted with you and Marla?”

“Like… we’re not even there,” she recalled.

“There you go then. Again, I’m not trying to be ‘that’ guy, but it’s just the truth. If only there was a way I could protect you from it, though.”

“You can always be like, 'hey! Quit pickin' on my friend!' or something like that,” she suggested, but he shrugged his shoulders.

“That's just a worry I've had,” he continued. “Y'know, I see how Joey looks at you, but I just wonder who else out there looks at you and not like that, either. Like you're fresh meat for the taking.” He then lifted his head to the hallway behind her, and she turned and followed his gaze.

“Even when there's duct tape on boots involved,” he said, that time in a louder voice.

Zelda walked up to the door right behind them with Chuck's boots latched onto her feet: the silver duct tape glistened under the low golden lights on the ceiling, still in place after Greg stuck it on with haste and after a few shows under her belt. She had slicked her black hair back with a handful of gel and wore nothing but a stained dark red sports bra and a pair of pearly white gym shorts. Her flat toned stomach already had a layer of sweat all over.

“If I was hot, I would dress like that, too,” said Sam, which brought a laugh out of both of them.

“Nah, I just put my head and body under a hose,” Zelda assured her; she pushed open the door and Sam realized that was the Cherry Suicides' dressing room. “You guys wanna come in?”

“Sure!” said Sam as she followed her inside.

“I gotta get to our room, but I'll poke my head in in a bit,” Frank promised her, and he kept on going to where Joey and Dan had run off to. Sam stood in the doorway for a second and she took in a whiff of the fresh incense in that little room. A vanity mirror stood on the left wall, as well as a small desk and a pair of accompanying chairs: Rosita's hats stood on a small rack on the wall opposite the door, and a long, shabby lumpy couch and a coffee table with a pitcher of water and a little wooden plate of smoldering incense right near the right wall. Zelda fixed her bra and she glanced down at the stains with a wrinkle to her nose.

“Does this thing make me look like I spilled ketchup all over myself?” she asked Sam.

“Sorta.”

“Damn it. It's supposed to be fake blood—I was gonna put some on my shorts once we get closer to show time, too. We're trying to hone in a more gory image for ourselves. You know, something to make people take us a bit more seriously. We have the songs, we just need the image. You thirsty? I'm dyin' of thirst—”

Zelda then reached for a stack of paper cups on the other side of the table and took two out, one for herself and one for Sam. She poured them both some of that icy water from the pitcher and then she raised it for a toast. They both drank it down in unison.

“Frankie was just telling me about groupies and all the nonsense you girls put up with,” Sam explained as she stepped inside more.

“Oh, yeah, we knew right away that was gonna happen with us,” Zelda pointed out as she poured herself a second cup. “We just demand more from the people who claim to support us.”

“I think it's a little harsh, though,” Sam confessed.

“Absolutely!” Zelda brought the cup to her mouth and guzzled it down. “Like I remember it kinda got to me at first, but I'm a Rhode Island chick who's not a rich snob. I look up to Wendy O. Williams, Lita Ford, and Bessie Smith, and also Peter Murphy, Henry Rollins, and Iggy Pop. I gotta be tougher than toenails, so it's part of the shit sandwich we eat. In fact—you heard this from me—that's a song Rose wrote just the other day. Called 'Shit Sandwich.'”

“Is it gonna be on your new album?” Sam chuckled. “We'll see.” Zelda poured herself a third helping of ice water and then she set the pitcher back down on the coffee table and took her seat on the couch. “We have to talk to Aurora some more, and then hopefully—it's the hope, anyways—we'll be knocking on Jonny Z's door soon.” She took a small sip from the cup and crossed her right leg over her left knee. “That's how Testament did it.”

“Do you guys have a manager at all?”

“Who, us? You're looking at her.” Zelda flashed her a wink, and then she stopped in her tracks, and a grin crossed her face. “Why? You wanna do our dirty deeds for us?”

“I'd have to do it plus school, though,” said Sam, to which Zelda shook her head.

“It's not hard—you just have to pick up the phone and shake hands with people. You gotta have a tough skin to do it, too—I mean, you saw us struggle.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” They fell into silence for a moment, and then Sam spoke again.

“How do you cope with it?”

“What, the struggle?” Zelda asked her once she took another sip.

“Yeah.”

“I usually like to poke fun at it. And the three of them do, too—like I said, Rosita wrote a song a few days ago about it called 'Shit Sandwich.' That's just our sense of humor: to be dark and bleak but not over the top with it. We make fun of the struggle because we're part of it.”

“You know, Aurora and I formed a bit of a duo called the 'art vixens'.”

“The art vixens?” Zelda smirked at that.

“Yeah, 'cause she thinks Joey has his eye on me and now she's married to Emile. We're like the vixens now.”

“It's funny, before the wedding, like back when you guys were shopping for dresses, I actually got to talking to Belinda and she told me she liked our name. And I was like, 'thank you, that's real cool of you.' 'Cause our name is very love it or hate it, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“I told her it's akin to a woman stabbing herself in the chest, or a virgin sacrificing herself. And then she made a joke about cherries after that, and I started callin' her Miss Cherry 'cause of it.”

“So the cherries and the vixens,” Sam said.

“Together, we can be the 'art whores'!” Zelda declared.

“The art whores?” Sam burst out laughing.

“Yeah!” Zelda laughed along with her. “Yeah—you, me, Aurora, and Bel. You and Aurora are the vixens. Bel and I will be the cherries. The four of us collectively are the art whores.”

She drank down the rest from the cup, and then Sam helped herself to some more.

“I gotta get you to hang out with Testament more,” Zelda told her in a low voice.

“I partied with them over New Year's,” Sam recalled.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, when they were preparing to record upstate. I got to join them all the way 'til midnight.”

“You gotta do it more, though. Even though Louie and I are broken up, they are literally the coolest dudes. Chuck and Eric are especially nice to Minerva and Morgan, mainly 'cause they're Hispanic boys and they're a couple of black girls, but they're our neighbors, though. I mean, Chuck lent me his boots for god's sake. And another case in point is Louie is still a really good friend to me. He'll call me once in a while and ask me how things are doing. He called me over Christmas and on my birthday. We just—can't really be a couple is all.” Her face fell a little bit upon saying that but she shrugged it off.

“Even Alex?” Sam asked her as she knitted her eyebrows together and took another sip of water.

“Alex is kinda standoffish—and skittish even—I mean, you saw the way he acted towards me when you ladies were shoppin' for dresses—but it's only because he's still breaking in his shoes. I mean, he graduated high school not even a year ago. Graduated and now he's on a lengthy tour with us and the five dicks from Manhattan—well, four of them are, anyways, unless Joey has another place that we don't know about. But he's a good kid, though, Sam. I promise you.” She paused for a second. “I think he's talked about you a little bit. I think—I haven't heard full conversations, but I have heard him mention you a bit before.”

“Who, Alex?”

“Yeah, he calls you 'Cliff's girl.' You know, 'cause you and Cliff were together. But like I said, I never really paid much attention to it so I only ever hear him mention you by the fact you're Cliff's girl.” And then the smirk returned to her face. “So Joey's been keeping his eye on you?”

“Yeah, but it's—platonic, though.”

Zelda squinted her eyes and she rested her elbow on top of the couch next to her.

“You sure? Because I swore that with Mr. Clemente when we first met, and then next I know, we're moving to a little place outside Narragansett together.”

“Wait a minute, how'd you guys work it out, though?”

“He quit Testament for a little bit, 'bout a year. Back when they were still referred to as Legacy and like right before you came into the picture. That was how we were able to work it out for as long as we did, but then he decided to come back because, you know—I was the one paying the rent.”

“So that explains why when they were about to record in that studio upstate, they had another drummer listed,” Sam recalled.

“Right! Right—Mike, I think was his name?” Zelda snapped her fingers twice. “Mike—Mike—something or other. I can't remember what it was now.”

“Ronchette?”

“Ronchette, yeah! Good pull with that.”

The distorted sounds of a guitar floated in from the hallway behind Sam.

“Speaking of Testament, I think that's them,” Zelda said with a nod of her head. “I hear them jammin' all the time. So I kinda know Eric's tone when I hear it.”

Indeed, Sam leaned back a bit but she couldn't see anything. She stood in the doorway and she spotted Eric, Alex, and Greg right down the hall upon stools.

“Little bit of Mercyful Fate,” Greg was saying as he plucked at his thick bass strings.

Alex leaned his back to the wall with the guitar cradled upon his lap. He kept his head bowed a bit so his bangs hid most of his eyes from view; his arms looked a little more toned and sinewy than before. His playing at such a quick and hard pace and in such a brief amount of time endowed him with much more strength. Sam tucked her hand into her pocket and she felt Cliff's pick inside of there. Maybe she was too hard on him, especially since that was how he saw her.

He lifted his head and fixed his hair, and then he gazed on at her with a grave look on his face. The corners of his mouth were turned a little bit so it looked as though he was smiling, but simultaneously wasn't, like that of the Mona Lisa. Those deep eyes seemed deeper than before; and the black hair dye was starting to fade off from his head: the plume of white over his forehead was trying to make its return, such that it looked rather ghostly over his head.

She thought about that evening in the Bay Area, where he and Greg dueled on the front porch. If only she could see that side to him again. But she had nothing to say to him. If only she could show Alex the Joey she had seen that morning. If only she could show him the other side to him, but she couldn't.

But then he bowed his head again and returned to the three man jam between him, Eric, and Greg, and she returned to Zelda, who had climbed to her feet and made her way across the room to the small fridge in the corner behind Rosita's hat rack. She took out a little fruit cup and then she gestured to one of the hats on the rack.

“D'you hear about this band called Guns 'N Roses?” she asked Sam.

“Yeah?” She vaguely recalled Eric talking about them in the few months before.

“They're awesome,” Zelda said with a twinkle in her eye. “I saw them last month here in Boston—they opened up for the Stones. Completely blew them off the stage. Their lead guitarist had on this big black top hat and afterwards, he chucked it out to the audience and I caught it.” She pointed at the black top hat on the part of the rack closest to her. “Gonna see if Rose wears it tonight.”

“Rose with a rose from Guns 'N Roses,” Sam joked, and Zelda laughed out loud at that.

The two of them hung out in the dressing room for a little while longer until Aurora bustled into the room in a white camisole and a laminated badge around her neck and a clipboard under her arm.

“I was just thinkin' about you,” Sam told her.

“I was, too,” Zelda joined in with a smirk on her face.

“I have some good news, some not so good news, and some bad news,” Aurora said, out of breath.

“Bad news first so it's out of the way,” Sam quipped, and Zelda nudged her for that.

“Okay, the bad news is the label is getting bought out, and Sam—” She fetched up a sigh. “I think you and I are gonna lose our jobs.”

“Oh, no!” Sam gasped.

“Oh, shit!” Zelda gasped with her, and they looked on at each other.

“I hope Marla finds a place to live in Hell's Kitchen because I don't wanna be stuck in the Bronx forever,” Sam confessed.

“No, you don't,” Zelda assured her. “I like the Bronx, but it's not really a place you wanna get stuck in.”

“What's the not so good news?” Sam asked Aurora.

“The not so good news is Emile is moving to Brooklyn.”

“So landlord's gonna be away from his building—sounds legitimate, though. I mean, it makes sense. You guys are newlyweds.” Sam shrugged.

“Now what's the good news?” Zelda chimed in.

“Good news is if all goes well tonight,” Aurora announced, “we just might see the Cherry Suicides en route to a legitimate record deal.”

“Things just have to go well, anyways,” Zelda said with a little wave of her hand. “So no tech problems, no drama, no nonsense, things like that.”

“Absolutely.”

Zelda glanced over at Sam, who raised an eyebrow at her.

“Think we can do it?” she wondered aloud.

“Hell yeah,” Sam told her with an extended hand, and Zelda gave her a low five. “You got those big boots with you. You can so do it.”

Within time, Minerva, Morgan, and Rosita showed up, and the latter set the black top hat upon her head to go with her black lace crop top and matching short skirt. She tucked the signature rose onto the base to make it distinctly her own. Meanwhile, Sam stayed in her spot on the couch next to Zelda and watched the three of them. Even though she wasn't properly asked to do so, just sitting there alone made her feel like a band manager.

She could hear the audience outside, and she wondered what the rest of the place looked like. She ambled across the floor and she stepped out to the hallway: next door was Charlie and Scott talking to each other about something in soft voices. The former nodded at her and his soft black curls fluttered a bit over the top of his head.

“Hey you,” he said to her.

“Li'l Sam I am,” Scott followed with a raise of those thick dark eyebrows. “What'chu doin'?”

“Oh, just hangin' out—I also wanna check out the rest of this place, too.”

“Not much here,” Charlie explained, “just a little bar and a stretch of floor enough for a thousand people.”

“A thousand?” She was stunned by that.

“That's nuthin',” Joey called from their dressing room.

“Yeah, that's nuthin',” Scott echoed him.

“I think that's something,” Sam pointed out, and that got a laugh out of him.

“It's general admission, too—so everyone's either gonna have a bunch of folding chairs or standing up,” Charlie said. He then gestured for Sam to follow him out of the hallway, and he led her to a stretch of curtain at the very end, past Testament's dressing room. She looked over her shoulder and she spotted Louie perched on a small barren shelf on the wall with his white gloves on and his drum sticks in hand. He gave her a little wave, and she returned the favor.

“Right over here,” Charlie gently coaxed her: he pushed the curtain back a little bit, and she gazed out to the small stretch of black stone floor before her, lit up with some yellow and red lights overhead. Indeed, there were a few folding chairs on the floor but everyone else congregated about the place. On the opposite wall stood a small bar with a small crowd around it to boot.

“Nothing to it,” she remarked.

“Nothing to it at all,” Charlie echoed, and he nodded to the left. “That's where we're gonna playing in a little bit.” She spotted the stage adjacent to them. It looked awfully small, but she trusted the three bands behind her. Once the sun hung low over Boston, one of the people at the bar came backstage to check in on the Cherry Suicides.

“We're opening act, so we were born ready,” Zelda told her as she flicked a little fake blood onto those white shorts.

Sam lingered back on the side of the stage a bit and she watched the four of them take to the center. Zelda mounted herself on the stool while Rosita slung her bass down low: she had written “las putas” over the bridge, and Sam eagerly nodded at that. The lights turned low and she realized how small that room truly was once it erupted in noise.

“Hello, Boston!” Minerva declared into the microphone. “We are the Cherry Suicides, straight outta Rhode Island, and we're here to make all of youses into soup! Hit it!”

They opened with that gory song that Sam recalled from that night in L'Amour. The one she and Cliff danced to. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. She tried not to think of him, but she couldn't help it. She missed him right there.

There was a loud crack! and she jerked back a bit. She looked around a bit and she spotted a guy near the front had put a fire cracker right near Morgan and lit it off there. But another guy pushed him away and one of the stagehands dragged him out of there.

“Fucking hell, dude, did the room clear out!” Morgan shouted, and everyone laughed at that. Sam swayed a little bit and she shook her head as she tried to shake Cliff away. He was gone, there was nothing more she could do or say right then. But the feelings persisted, at least for the next two songs. The fourth one was “Day of the Dead”, where a true mosh pit finally opened up for them.

They were moshing for the girls. Sam nodded her head at them, but then a guy close to her threw a punch to someone next to him. There was another punch, followed by a third, and a fourth, and the next one after that had been inflicted onto a woman. Zelda stopped drumming right there and she stood to her feet as a brawl broke out before them: several men but a handful of women in there as well. Sam gaped at them and she took a step back.

Even from a distance and over the wall of noise, she made out Zelda saying, “this is bullshit.”

Then someone picked up a chair from the floor and chucked it towards the stage.

“Oh, no,” Sam muttered as another guy threw a chair at Rosita. She ducked and held onto the top hat but it tumbled onto the stage behind her.

“Oh, my god!” Sam yelled.

“Jesus!” Zelda shouted as she bowed out from her drum kit: she picked up her sticks and ducked into the darkness. There was nowhere to go right there, and so Sam lunged to help her. But then something pulled her back.

“What the—”

“Get away from there!” She recognized Alex's big voice right behind her. She turned to find him putting his other hand on her shoulder. He yanked on her other arm and then bowed his head a bit before another couple of chairs sailed right past her ear.

He saved her life, but she wanted to save Zelda from the exact same thing.

“Alex!” she shouted over the wall of noise. “ALEX!” He dragged her off stage and back into that corridor. She tried to force herself away from him but he was such a strong boy. He threw open the dressing room door and all but shoved her inside.

“Stay in here!” he commanded. “No—Samantha, stay in here! It's not safe!”

“What're you—”

But before she could say anything more, he shut the door and left. Fuming, she threw open the door and she poked her head out to the corridor. No one there and the whole wing of the theater was silent save for the out of control mosh pit out there.

She let out a low exasperated sigh. But she spotted Louie and Greg at the other end of the hallway, both of them with spooked looks on their faces.

“What the hell!” she cried out as they came within earshot.

“I know, right?” Greg said, out of breath. “Alex just ran outside to get help and Chuck and Eric both just ran across the street to call the cops—Eric told us to stay here.”

“Yeah, Alex got me off the stage—I was trying to help Zelda, but he got me off of there before I almost got hit in the head.”

“But, man, Zelda's gotta be pretty pissed right now,” Louie told her as he ran his fingers through his smooth dark hair. “I saw her runnin' and she looked furious.”

“I bet she is—Aurora said they were supposed to get a record deal after tonight.”

“Hope they can do it tomorrow night,” Greg confessed as he folded his arms over his chest. “Hope there is a tomorrow night. Those girls are tough but—damn, they don't need all that.”

“Zelda told me they make fun of the fact they get called whores, though,” Sam pointed out. “I say 'kudos' to be honest.”

“Right?” Louie chuckled; the noise on the far end of the hall and on other side of the curtain seemed to die down a bit, but it was all noise from a distance to them.

“You know, that's not a bad idea to run with,” Sam continued.

“What, making fun of what they call you?” Greg asked her with a little toss of his black hair.

“Yeah. Like she and I decided to call ourselves art whores because of it.”

“Buncha art whores,” Louie chuckled some more.

“You guys!” Eric called from the doorway down the hall. In the dim light, Sam saw him gesturing for them to come on closer. “Come on! Come on! The cops are coming!”

“Where are the girls?” Sam demanded.

“They're fine—they're right out here, but come on!”

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lover-of-catboys · 3 years

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what is batim had bendy, boris and alice be the villans. and because they do what they think is right, but it evil cause they don´t have the same morality as us

(cut cause it´s a long post)

This thought started while i was thinking about how a cartoon character (at least from the rubber-hose era (what i know anyway)). I mean it whould probably not be great being ripped from from your world to one where the rules to reality are diffrent,

but

Then i thought about the fact that besides body horror in the game, the fact that it´s implied most don´t renember alot of their past gives alot of oppertunity to phychological horror in regards to ideantity (also time-loops).

And i started to think about how i could make the toons do the things they do.

What if they understand time and suffering diffrently?

What if they understood time as multiple loops, where the same person does diffrent things at the exact same time (think of it as one episode being one universe out of a multiverse, but everyone of those universses is a timeloop).

And because of time not being a timeloop, hurts don´t get reset and there is no true certainty of whats going to happen.

(What if they can´t go back into their past reality?)

What if they try and find out how to make a time-loop?

What if they decide it whould be kinder to bring the workers of the studio with them instead of letting them live in this ¨cruel¨ reality?

What if because the workers refuse, they start turing them into ink creatures so that they wil their mind? (and by that i mean rewrite their personality, morals and erase memeories to make them see the ¨good¨ life they can have if they comply)

(btw they don´t think that´s evil because they´re cartoons that gets changed a couple of times over the years and figuer thats just normal)

What if they thry to hunt down henry because their time-loop plan succeded, but when henry entered the reality he made the time-loop stop being a loop?

(btw he is the only one who can kill them and not be effected to the ink like everyone else because he is the creator (and by effected i mean dying won´t make him a ink creature (but to make sure there are still personal stakes, being killed by one of the three will make him a ink creature)))

(btw the reason it´s not only bendy is because we don´t see bendy for most of the game and having two characters, who have diffrent personalities from bendy and eachother, whould help with worldbuilding (since they whould probably do diffrent things to get to the same goal))

(i whould write more, but the rest are mostly semi-disconnected ideas)

#batim au #batim concept #tw phychological horror #tw brainwashing #tw sureal horror

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itsmydreamlifethings · 4 years

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Henry Cavill Discovers a “Special Bed Kink”.

I hope ya’ll truly ready for this filth. (Is it normal to have such a filthy mind?? 🤣Please don’t judge LOL.) WARNINGS: All of them. SUPER SMUT/PORN. FILTH. LANGUAGE. NO MINORS ALLOWED. 18+ ONLY. ALSO, IT MIGHT MAKE YOU NEED TO SHOWER AFTER YOU READ IT. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. 🤣 ALSO: THIS INCLUDES UNPROTECTED SEX BUT BE SMART AND USE PROTECTION, GUYS. FOR REAL. ---REBLOGS ALLOWED. NO POSTING ELSEWHERE! NOW....BYEEEE...GO READ 🤣 Stores are shutting down. Times are uncertain and there’s nothing much to do but stay home and....fuck. (ya’ll can relate, right?) You and Henry have been going at it so much, his box of condoms are depleted. Still, after a heavy make-out session that brought you to the extremes, you both decided to go at it without a condom. You’ve been together for a year anyway and you know you’re the soul mates you’ve been desperately searched for.

You’ve been going at it for hours, Henry’s pumping so erratic and animalistic, you’re screaming and moaning his name. The sheets are wrapped around you, and you are both going to be spent after this. Henry’s grunts are loud and tension filled, his hot breath caressing your face as his thrusts are deeper and stronger.

“Baby, I’m about to cum,” he whispers in between grunts. “Should I pull out?”

Under normal circumstances, you’d say yes, but this is the first time you’ve had sex with Henry without a condom. And....it’s fucking amazing (duh). He was always good, but without a rubber, holy shit, you can feel him fuck you so raw, so deep, and you can literally sense his veins, his erection hard as a rock as it hits every nerve ending inside you. Even his head, round and thick, feels completely different now. This shit has got you lost in ecstasy you’ve never felt before. All logic and reason has left you. All you can feel is his heavy body fucking you senseless into the mattress. So you whisper back, “Whatever you want, baby. Do whatever you want to me.”

Well, that shit just turned Henry on even more and as his orgasm builds up, all of his doubts elope. He wants to fill you, to cum so deep inside you that the thought of his seed spewing in you simply drives him off the edge. It takes him four deep thrusts, an animalistic growl erupting from his chest as he pounds his orgasm inside you, his seed releasing like a fire hose.

He finishes and leaves his dick inside you for a few long minutes, the room filled with only your heavy breathing now. He slightly rolls off you, still leaving one arm around you. He realizes he is so big that he could crush you if he just let his entire weight stay on top of you.

“Fuck, that was soooo good,” he murmurs, his fingers playing with strands of your hair. You can only smile, still struggling for air and basking in the aftermath of your orgasms.

“Baby, I tried to, but I couldn’t pull out. I cummed in you.” His voice is worried, hoping you wouldn’t be mad even though you gave him permission to.

“Hmm-hmm,” you answer, the mere mention of him saying ‘he cummed in you’ sending tingles down your back. “I know, I feel you on my thighs now.”

His interest is piqued and he props himself on one elbow. “You can?” He eyes your legs and pussy, curious and interested.

“Yeah,” you giggle.

“Hmm....can I feel?”

His breathing has stabilized a bit, but his tone is now deep and sultry again. He sees you nod and he brings his large hand between your legs, shuffling closer so he can take a better look at the state he has left you in. His fingers caress your folds and then he notices his cum that is already dripping from you and down your thighs. He traces the warm liquid on your thigh, mesmerized as if the mere sight of his orgasm manifesting on your body is some metaphysical event.

“Hmmm,” he growls deeply, noticeably aroused again as you take a peek at his cock. Fucking hell, it’s growing hard again. “Is this me?” he asks.

“Well, it’s both of us, but it’s mostly you.” You take his hand and guide it up and down your thighs as you feel more of his seed trickling out of you. You’re a wet mess and you know these sheets are going to be washed ASAP.

Henry releases a grunt, sexy and lustful, his dick twitching as it grows another inch already. He props himself up now, resting on his knees. The sight of his juices running out of you have gotten him all kinds of fucked up. It surprises him. He never experienced this before, but the thought of and the sight of his cum on you, so lewdly dripping on your skin, is majorly turning him on. You’re surprised too. You never thought the look on Henry’s face as he smears his cum on your legs could ever EVER have you in such a state. But you are. Your puss muscles are literally aching again. You observe him as he’s lost in an ocean of his juices bathing on you, unable to move, or say a word, but to only enjoy his attention.

He brings both hands now onto your pussy, seeking more of the juices that keep dripping out of you. His fingers are soaked and something takes over him. His features are veiled with dark desire. He dabs the wetness on your belly, and literally begins to massage it on your stomach. His hands trail upward, smearing his cum onto your breast. Your nipples, round and erect, slide easily in and out of his fingers, Henry using his own heavenly juices to coat your skin.

You start to moan again. Fuck, he’s sleeking your whole body with his seed and you can think about is how fucking sexy that is. One hand trails up from your breast and up your neck, then his thumb strokes your bottom lip. He caresses it a few long seconds, then slides two fingers in your mouth.

“Taste me, baby,” he orders. “I want my cum to be everywhere...inside you and out.”

You do as he says and lick his fingers. They taste wet and salty. He repositions himself between your thighs, looking down avidly at your core. His hands return to your pussy and he wants nothing more but to see more of his cum.

“Hmmm...the thought of having myself all over you, inside and out, makes me want to rail you again.”

You whimper and mewl, unable to control your hips. They buck forward, your back arching and your core literally lunging toward him. “Then fill me again, baby.” “I never thought this could turn me on so much...” Henry grunts, his eyes blinking softly and his finger already penetrating you and pumping in and out. “I want to come all over you, baby. I want to smear it all on your skin. I want to cover you with my juices.”

And then, just like that, it’s on again. Henry has found a new bed kink, an obsession that he’s going to want to indulge as much as possible. And you, obviously, are going to let Daddy do whatever makes him happy. #Dead #Wet #Horny

#henry cavill #henrycavillsmut #henry cavill bed kink daddy henry henry cavill destroys my body

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doberart · 4 years

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I've noticed that the bendy crew don't really have a "toon aspect". By that I mean they don't look like they are toons from the 1930's. Don't get me wrong im obsessed with the game! There are just a few flaws which makes it a really good game! But anyways I had the thought that bendy and the others are mad at Henry for making them "flawed" Or seem like a disgrace of toons then Henry hugs them saying "you're perfect the way you are" With a smile on his face. I would love to see that!

I agree that the game has flaws and it isn’t perfect by any means, though I would disagree with them not fitting the style of the 30s. I think that’s something the team actually did pretty well with, giving their cartoons that sort of old style rubber hose feel. I know this is a bit lost in translation when it comes to the 3D models in the game, as they’re not very toon-like in their behaviors and movements (but they’re also implied to be humans turned toon as well). But as far as the 2D cartoons, I think they did well with those.

You’re welcome to your opinion on the matter, of course. But, personally, I think they did a decent job making it feel like an authentic cartoon from the 30s and 40s time period.

#ask #eyithsthisperson #dober responds to posts #batim

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inkydrink · 3 years

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I want to know 'bout them. Nao.

(Ok, so I’ve got no ideas wether you’re talking about my persona or my trio au, so I’ll just answer for both)

———————————————————————

Uhhh, my persona’s basically just a persona in a vaguely rubber-hose art style. If I had to give them a story, I guess they just hang around the studio following the ink demon cult around.

My trio au is set in a universe where Joey is only partially the ink demon. He sacrificed all of his childlike wonder, empathy and happiness into Bendy. Obviously Joey messed up pretty bad while creating him (in this au Henry was the one who actually made the characters in physical form) and Bendy turned out kind of butchered. The ink demon was kind of just pushed aside as Joey tried to create better clones, and he surprisingly managed to keep Bendy a secret for a while there, but later on Bendy just kind of started breaking out of the closet he was kept in and walking around the studio. Everyone was already kind of going insane so they were all just like “Ah fuck, another thing to deal with.” After the studio’s collapse, Bendy tried to stay as close to the exit as possible (because he could hear Joey taking, and he kind of still viewed his creator as a father figure) but ended up having to move down to lower levels because he wanted to find some other way out.

Allison and Tom found Bendy lurking around, and running from butcher gang members, so they captured him for a while before realising that he was almost completely harmless and pretty much the exact same as the first time they met him.

Allison really liked subjects like math and English in school, so she took on the role of teacher and started holding mini lessons in the hideout where Bendy kind of learned to write! Tom tries to teach him things too, like knot tieing and other basic skills. They all go out foraging together and they basically just function as a weird little family.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #trio au #au #long post

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unclekoopus · 4 years

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Something about the FNAF and BATIM novels

I know it’s ABSOLUTELY the furry in me, but all this extra media, all the books and stuff for Five Nights at Freddy’s and Bendy and the Ink Machines seem to focus so much on these human characters, when all I want is enormous amounts of content about the non-humans. About the in-universe fictional characters and such.

It’s totally fair that the books go in that direction, that they’re primarily human stories with the threat being the existential one or the physical one. But I’ve always admired the more engaged horror stories that don’t have an unknowable villain, but a character or monster that can be spoken to or engaged in a back-and-forth with.

FNAF, in its original incarnations, was primarily a story with monsters that don’t talk, that you can’t talk TO. Bendy is somewhat the same, at least with the title character.

I hope you’ll bear with me on this, but I like the idea of a story where the monsters are sentient, or accessible at the very least.

below the cut: my rambling idea for an AU like this:

Imagine, if you will, that Bendy the Dancing Demon materialized as a character- not as a lumbering, grinning ghoul, but a little imp with a smarmy, sarcastic attitude and a little bit of a threat to his words. He wants to kill you, kill Henry, rather, but you and he come to an agreement- he wants out of this house of hell, this unending labyrinth of a studio as much as you do. You enter into a reluctant and unsteady partnership. He doesn’t let up on his vague threats and mean-spirited teasing all the time he’s with you, communicating with you.

And he has you do a bunch of tasks for him- like Alice does in the game- he puts you through a lot of nasty, scary situations and mocks you the whole way through. And he’s animated about it all- making goofy and slightly Satanic rubber hose transformations of his body and expressions of his impish face.

Henry goes through it all, but after a while, things start to change- you make moral choices and confide in Bendy some of your thoughts and feelings. You tell Bendy about your past, about your life since the studio went under, your wife, your kids, your hope for the future. Bendy sees how much you try to save everyone, how you want to help Boris and how traumatized you are at having to destroy him.

Bendy may be a demon, but he starts to feel for you, warm up and soften his tone. He’s been using you all this time, and it’s pretty obvious he has the intention of discarding you like so much scrap paper in the end once he gets what he wants.

The time comes when you are about to escape, when the ghoul is defeated- or so you think- and the outside world awaits, it was a difficult battle and you are unable to go on, your leg broken. And Bendy has the opportunity, he can leave you, ink stained and bleeding, to die in this place. And he starts to... but he can’t. He can’t leave his Creator behind. He cares too much. He makes a big, irreverent deal about it, he complains about your sentimentality about the others making him soft, unable to finish the job. And he holds out a toony gloved hand to help you out the door.

But the ghoul was not dead, and has ahold of your broken leg and is dragging you to the inky abyss. Bendy yells “No!” and tries to pull you free, but the monster is too strong. He’s going to pull the both of you back in, the light of the colorful world is getting farther and farther away. You tell Bendy to leave, escape, save himself, and he says “Not so long ago, I would have, believe me, bucko. But us toons, we get attached.” He latches onto your limbs, stretching his rubberhose arms out and wrapping them around a timber pillar, but he is still stretching as you and he are pulled closer to the monster. It looks like the end for you both, Bendy is still trying in vain, when a funny expression crosses his face.

And he asks you if you trust him. Obviously you didn’t before, but you’re starting to now. He says “Good enough. Now close your eyes, if this doesn’t work, it’s the end for us both.” You do so. And in the blackness of your vision, you hear the ooze of ink, the swirl and stretch of Bendy’s toony sfx and in another few moments, you’ve changed, you feel completely different. Your leg doesn’t hurt anymore for one, but it’s more than that. Opening your eyes sees Bendy again. And looking at yourself, you see flat colors, and dark outlines. Your whole body is simplified and feels stretchy and strange in the extreme.

“Okay, artsy-fart, you’re a toon now, and that means you got some new abilities- there ain’t time to teach ya how to use ‘em all, but ya need to work with me ta get outta this mess.” The monster roars, its voracious mouth waiting to suck you down into a vortex of black ink. The rules of toondom have been explained to you over the course of your journey by Bendy. A toon can do anything, as long as it’s funny.

The both of you together use your toon powers to break free and defeat the monster once and for all.

Now, I can’t decide if Bendy should sacrifice himself to save you or not, but I like him and you leaving the studio together and sharing a big, toony hug once you emerge into the sunshine and going off to have more adventures as a pair.

---

Maybe someday I’ll make a visual novel about this, I dunno. I’ve had the idea for a while. The same sort of thing could happen with FNAF too, I suppose, but with the robot’s AI forming a friendship and fighting the homicidal tendencies off in the end to save you.

I just wanna be friends with the cute horror franchise furries.

#text #batim #fnaf #bendy #five nights at freddy's #kappa rambles #story idea #au #writing

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hntrgurl13 · 5 years

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I’ve never played bendy and the ink machine, but I’m very curious about it, what is it about?

Henry, the protagonist and player character, returns to an animation studio he used to work at after being invited by his old pal, Joey Drew. Henry is instructed to turn on the Ink Machine and he does so only the discover a twisted version of his old character Bendy trying to attack him. Henry tries to escape only to fall further down into the studio. He has to work his way through the remainder of the studio to find his way out. He encounters other creatures along the way. Some good, some.... not so much. All fear the Ink Demon. The Creator lied to us. It’s a fun entwining of rubber hose animation, Horror and mystery. There’s a ton of hidden secrets and a wonderfully paced story that’s definitely worth a play through.

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inkwise · 3 years

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@distancedisowned hit the HEART.

It’s not often that the studio gets visitors, aside from the business kind. It’s especially rare for them to have an entire school class take a tour of the building. Henry’s a bit excited, for lack of a better term; kids are easy enough to get along with for the most part, if one knows how to handle them.

So, with a grin, he waves the group into the animation department, hums and says, “ --And this is where the MAGIC happens. ”

#distancedisowned #{ Henry In: } Rubber and Hose!#{ Queue } Pardon the wait!

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writingamongtheroses-archive · 4 years

Text

Hell’s Studio- Chapter 1

When her grandmother dies, fourteen-year-old Suzie Kalsky is sent to find out what happened to her great-grandfather Walt, a former animator who disappeared when Grandma Laika was young. The search leads Suzie to Blur Studios, Walt’s old studio which shut down years ago. Forced to undergo a horrifying transformation, she must go through the studio to find a way out. For all of them.

Dreams come true…

(Inspired by Bendy and the Ink Machine, @squigglydigg Toon Henry AU, @star-going-supernova fic ‘The Art of Being Alive’, and the ‘Pulling Strings’ series by @riyuyami)

Grandma Laika had not been a popular woman in her lifetime.

Something had died in her, people said. It happened after Grandma Laika's father disappeared when she was a little girl. It hadn't been helped that his job before the war had kept him away for long hours. It had split him from his wife. The war had kept himself up screaming. In any way, Laika Kalsky had not made any friends. She had been alone when she slipped away in her bedroom in her sleep. Her body had been a few hours cold when the maid she hired went into work and found her in bed.

That explained why there weren't many people at the funeral.

The only reason Suzie and her family was there with a few other relatives was that her father was Grandma Laika's oldest son. There would be disapproval if they didn't go.

Suzanna "Suzie" Klasky didn't really have many memories of Grandma Laika. She and Suzie's father had gotten in some sort of disagreement before she was born, which meant that there were a few times that she had visited the woman. The only actual memory that she had been snapped words and a stern, disapproving face. Which made sense- her grandma had been a stern and disapproving person in life.

The funeral carried on like other funerals. Everyone was dressed in black and pretending to cry. The pastor droned about ashes and dust when the coffin entered the ground. Dinner came afterward. People were more alive during that, talking about their own lives instead of the dead.

It wasn't until a week after the funeral that Suzie's mother knocked on her door. "We were going through your grandma's stuff when we found this letter addressed to you." She said. The confusion was clear in her voice. It was in a clean, white envelope with Suzanna written in cursive on the front.

"Okay...?" She took it. Her mom gave a nod before disappearing again. Suzie looked over the envelope.

Why would Grandma Laika send anything to her? She'd never believed in Christmas or birthdays.

She opened it, pulling a letter out.

Suzanna,

If you're reading this, I'm probably dead and didn't get a chance to talk to you before. So, this is why I wrote you this letter. I have a very important request.

Why am I asking you about this?

Maybe, out of everyone in our family, you are the only person that bothered to try and talk to me during the few occasions you visit. Maybe. Or it could be that you remind me of my father. (I've seen your drawings, young lady. You two have the same art style. You're a wonderful artist.) This task is VERY IMPORTANT to me.

I want you to find your great-grandfather.

Yes, Grandpa Walt, in case you're wondering.

He's probably long dead.

I don't need you to actually "find" him. But, I need you to figure out what happened to him. The burden of not knowing where he is haunts me, even as I lay dying.

With this letter, I have a timeline of him, starting when he started working at Blur Studios and ending where I got the call that he was missing. When police searched his apartment, they found an odd telegram, enclosed in here as well.

Remember, this is VERY IMPORTANT. I'm putting my trust in you, Suzanna.

Love,

Grandma Laika

Suzie blinked. Then blinked again. Setting aside the letter, she pulled out two more things: a neatly folded roll of paper which was revealed to be the timeline. The other, yellowed piece of paper must've been the telegram. She put that aside to look over the timeline.

"...Okay, Grandma."

~'~'~

"Hey, Dad?"

"Hm?" her dad replied, busy working at the stove. The scent of chili was filling the air.

"What was Great-Grandpa Walt like?"

Suzie received a confused look from her father. He opened and shut his mouth before he was finally able to say something. "I don't know honey. He disappeared when my mother was...around your age, actually. She never spoke about him."

"Well, what do you know?"

"Eh...not much. I do know he was an artist of this cartoon series before being drafted." He stopped stirring to think. "Something about a demon." He hummed in thought. "Um...oh!" He snapped his fingers. "Daemon Demon! That's the name." Suzie gave him a blank look. "It was this little cartoon series about this troublemaking demon and all the whacky stuff he got in with his friends, Peace the Angel and Wolfie Wolf."

Suzie filed that info away. "Where was Grandma Laika when he disappeared?"

"With Grandma Ruth, I think. She and Walt divorced when he returned from the war. Why do you ask?"

"N...No reason. No reason at all."

~'~'~

A quick search on Youtube brought up the Daemon the Demon series.

Daemon the Demon was revealed to have a circular head with two little horns and the classic dots for pupils in his eyes. He was dressed in a tux, little demon wings fluttering and a spiked tail swishing around. The cartoon itself was soundless and black and white, like other 1920s' cartoons, but she couldn't help but be charmed by the little dancing demon and his little adventures in his rubber hose style. Then she searched for the next two weeks.

Google said that Blur Studios had been founded by Max Soundberg and Walt Klasky. The latter had been the first to sketch the little demon. But when the war had started, Klasky had been drafted. And there ended his role in Blur Studios. He had never returned to the studio after the war ended. The studio had struggled without him. People preferred the episodes where he had drawn. The merchandise sales had failed and the studio had sunk into debt and money trouble. Finally, it had shut down.

Suzie then noticed an article link.

It was titled 'Disappearances'.

Walt Klasky had been the latest in a series of disappearances of Blur Studio employees. Others had disappeared before him. No matter how hard she searched the internet or the timeline, she couldn't find exactly when the disappearances had started. Then she searched again, finding a new shred of information.

Max Soundberg had been the actual first.

Curiosity taking over, Suzie returned to the telegram she had dismissed.

It was old, having yellowed over the years, with some black stains on it. But the words, printed in neat cursive, were still visible.

Walt,

It's been a lifetime since we've worked together, hasn't it? Thirty years really slips away. I need you to come and visit the old workshop. I need to show you something.

Your pal,

Max

Suzie looked over the telegram with a frown. That was it. Thirty-one little words of the message, all friendly, nice and neat. But this had been the last piece of mail that Walt had received. A message from a friend who he had possibly gone and visited. She rolled back over to her computer and did another search.

The location of Blur Studios was only a half-hour away. The next week, her parents would going on a weekend trip for their anniversary, trusting her to stay home alone. She had a bike.

She could bike.

#hell's studio #wip #batim #writblr #writeblr

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themalhambird · 5 years

Text

Shakespeare Tag Game

tagged by @skeleton-richard

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I HATE: The Winter’s Tale.

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I THINK IS OVERATED: Hamlet.

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I THINK IS UNDERRATED: I mean, underrated is so subjective. All my Shakespeare guys love the same plays I do, and I don’t claim to have a thorough understanding of the various levels of (un)popularity of every one of his plays. Having said that... maybe Measure for Measure?

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I LOVE: Henry IV Part 1, Much Ado about Nothing

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I CHERISH: King Lear. Mainly because I got to see it with IAN MCKELLAN IN and also it got my sister in to Shakespeare.

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I COULD SEE AGAIN AND AGAIN: Much Ado About Nothing, Henry IV Part I, Richard II, Twelfth Night...

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I STILL WANT TO DO: Do as in preform? Idk, I’d do most of them if given the chance. And also possibly a male role, I feel so much more confident in them, idk why. Plus, I want an excuse to wear hose. And Now I am getting side tracked, so I will move on to Shakespeare Play I Still Want To Do as in “get around to actually reading/watching” and say that King John is next on my reading list.

SHAKESPEARE PLAY THAT MADE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH SHAKESPEARE: Othello & Macbeth, as my year 9 and GSCE texts. I don’t love love either play (and they didn’t make me love-love Shakespeare either) , but they did pre-dispose me to have an interest in Shakespeare so that when I got to University...

SHAKESPEARE PLAY THAT CHANGED MY LIFE: Richard II. First year of university, and holy shit, this play. I don’t know where to start. I adore it. It’s the first thing that’s ever made me vaguely consider getting a tattoo. I got research published so that I could talk about the flint castle snoggage scene-- and it got me in to the Shakespeare side of tumblr, which means this play is responsible for at LEAST five new friends, all of who make my days considerably brighter.

GUILTY PLEASURE: Going to Stratford upon Avon, or The Globe, and buying Shakespeare merchandise I don’t need but really, really want....(One day, I am going to have one of those Shakespeare Rubber Ducks, because I Love Shakespeare and also Rubber Ducks it’s like the best of both worlds.)

SHAKESPEARE PLAY I SHOULD HAVE SEEN BY NOW BUT HAVE NOT: Henry V. I’ve just...never got round to watching any recording of it or anything, even though I have had Alex Hassel and Jennifer Kirby as Henry and Cate for three years now. It just doesn’t grip me the way the other three of that tetralogy does.

tagging @nuingiliath @shredsandpatches @malvoliowithin . I think a lot of people have already been tagged, but if you want to do it feel free

#shakespeare #me stuff

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artistic-writer · 6 years

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Love Finds a Way : CS Jurassic World AU : Ch 6

Title: Love Finds a Way by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan is the Head of Operations for David Nolan’s exotic adventure park, Jurassic World. She has a son, Henry, and is loved and respected by her colleagues. Her life was perfect until a new dinosaur the park created, Indominus Rex, decided to escape. Oh, and her one night stand, Killian Jones - he’s there to help contain the asset. Just to complicate things even more. Jurassic World AU.

Rating: M (for people getting eaten)

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Chapter 6 is here because the muse wanted to write about some dinosaur action! Then I remembered I was arting, and I gave @kmomof4 the choice of yesterday with no art, or today with art. so here it is :D

Taglist: @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @cocohook38 @sherlockianwhovian @wordsmith-storyweaver@winterbaby89 @kymbersmith-90@wellhellotragic@killianmesmalls @killian-whump @nonnyj @jennjenn615 @thislassishooked @searchingwardrobes@doodlelolly0910 @cs-forlife @darkcolinodonorgasm

Want to be tagged/untagged? TELL ME HERE

——————————————————————————————

Henry shivered. The island was hot, but still humid and because his clothes were soaking wet from the lagoon, the cold had managed to seep in through his skin. He had wandered into the forest, the covering of the canopy keeping him cooler, but he didn’t want to risk sitting out in the sunshine any longer. Not with that dinosaur so close. Henry had never seen it before, and he would never forget the sound of its roar, or the way it had looked at him, almost human-like, with intention and without remorse.

It scared him, pure and simple, and even though he liked to think that he was brave, as he walked through the leaf-littered forest alone, he was petrified. Henry stopped for a second, tugging at the material that clung to his small frame, pulling the wet cotton of his shirt away from his skin with an uncomfortable grimace. It was like a warm towel sticking to him, and he flapped the shirt to try and aid its drying with a tut.

A noise made him stop suddenly, the snapping of a stick off to his left, and Henry dropped into a crouch to make himself smaller. He froze on the spot, something Killian had told him to do if he was ever in trouble, because most predators hunted by sight. If he stayed perfectly still, he would have a greater chance of survival. Henry swallowed hard, a mixture of sweat and condensed humidity spread across his dirty brow, and he held his breath in an attempt to listen for the noise again.

Nothing happened. No snapping of twigs, no rumble of a dinosaur breathing. Nothing. Henry exhaled, hands clutching the strap of his lucky bag as he pushed himself to his feet slowly, eyes scanning the nearby forest. No sooner had he regained his upright position, the squawk of an island bird made him cry out in shock, his body involuntarily jumping to the side as the bird took off from its hiding place in the ferns next to him and flew over his head.

Henry let out another breath, watching the bird dodge branches as it navigated the woodland up ahead of him, drawing his attention to a garage like shack that it narrowly avoided. Henry narrowed his eyes, immediately wondering what the wooden structure was and why it was hidden so far out in the wilderness of the park. He took a tentative stepped towards it, the ground under his feet turning solid almost as soon as he starting moving, and he glanced down to see the huge palm-like leaves hiding stone steps.

They were old, Henry could tell by the way they were almost the same colour as the ground now. They edges crumbled, and each step was covered in bits of trunk that had fallen from the trees above. There was a deep litter of detritus covering them, leaves both new and old, brittle and crispy underfoot as he ascended the wide steps that lead to the shack. Henry watched his feet as he walked, careful not to slip, ignoring the way his feet were soaked from the lagoon and squelched in his canvas shoes.

The shack was a conundrum indeed, but Henry’s inquisitiveness knew no bounds and he blindly walked towards it as if it was drawing him closer. There was a huge door, covered in vines that had grown too far from their roots and dried and turned light brown in the heat. A monkey chattered nearby, but Henry did not look away, instead focused on reaching his goal and undeterred by the primate’s song above him. He was so focused on the door he almost lost his footing, falling forward and pulling at the hanging vines that gave way in his hand and revealed a stone carving underneath.

Above the door was the unmistakable outline of a T-Rex skeleton, the bones carved out of the stone above the doorway. It seemed familiar, like a symbol Henry had seen before but he frowned, unable to recall where he had seen the image because of its wear. On closer inspection, the doors were unlocked and with a steady heave, Henry leaned his shoulder against the slippery wooden surface and pushed as hard as he could. The door gave out, scraping along the debris on the floor as it swung open with a creak.

“Wow,” Henry breathed to himself, the musty smell of wet leaves and dirt filling his nostrils. He walked through the doorway, eyes scanning the room before he realised where he was.

The walls were covered with yet more vines, these ones a brighter green than outside and there was a small section of smaller, new growing trees trying to establish a life in a patch of mud near his feet. Henry stepped around them, dried leaves crunching under each step as he walked through the round shaped room, much bigger than the outside indicated, and looked up when a drop of cold water hit him on the back of the neck. The roof was glass or had been at one stage, now completely yellowed from age and tree sap, most of the panes broken by fallen branches and entangled in the growth of trees.

Henry let his eyes wander, neck craning to look at the rest of the room. It was somewhere he had only ever seen in books before, the bones littering the ground at his feet too old to be anything that recently died here. He picked one up, a long, heavy bone pointed at one end and shaped like a shoulder blade at the other. Henry inspected it, weighing it between his hands before a flash of yellow caught his eye on the floor and he scuffed his foot through the dirt to reveal a banner that had previous occupied the room.

It was torn, only half the word visible to him, but he recognised the old banner from the original Jurassic Park visitor center. It had once hung proudly above a replica skeleton of a tyrannosaurus rex that stood pride of place in the lobby, enticing visitors before they were able to see the actual dinosaur. Henry was too young to remember the original park, having not even been born yet, but he had researched it so thoroughly he felt like he was actually in a book.

Henry picked up the banner, shaking off the debris before wrapping it around the end of the bone. He needed to take a look around, explore a little more, just to confirm he was exactly where he thought he was. If he was in the old visitor center, then he would know exactly where he was on the island, and would be able to work out a way to get back to his mom. Or to Killian. He was pretty sure he was closer to Killian, but he had to make sure.

He leaned the banner wrapped bone against his leg, slid his pack off his shoulder, clutching the bag in one hand and unzipping it with the other, before reaching inside to retrieve a small box of matches he always carried with him. Always be prepared, Killian said. Henry held the box in his mouth, quickly zipping the bag back up and slipping it onto his shoulders once more. He picked up the bone, tucking it under one arm and attempted to strike one of the matches.

“Come on,” Henry grumbled as the first one snapped with nothing but a tiny spark and a puff of smoke. He tossed the broken wooden stick to the ground in a huff, fishing his fingers into the box for another. The second attempt was more successful, the rough scratch and then ignition of the flame in his fingertips lighting the room. Henry quickly held it under the material of the banner, the material catching fire just as the matchstick had burned up to his fingertips.

The room was illuminated almost instantly, the orange glow of the flame burning at the end of the bone allowing him to see everything. The walls were mostly uncovered by the overgrown trees that had otherwise wound their way in through the skylight so Henry could see the walls as if they had just been painted. Murals covered the walls, paintings of dinosaurs to scale jumping out against the sandy coloured background, the images seeming to move under the flickering of the lit torch in his hands.

There was a raptor there, as tall as he was, the depiction of the wall so life like he almost jumped out of his skin. Henry refocused on the painting, the eyes of the dinosaur yellow and staring straight at him from the wall, and he reached out to run his hands over the surface as if he was stroking it. It was not real, Henry knew that, but he could pretend. Killian was a raptor trainer, one of his idols, and Henry wanted nothing more than to experience the bumpy scales of a dinosaur under his touch the way Killian could.

The scuttling of a small animals drew his attention to a door towards the back of the room, the light bouncing off the walls as it narrowed into a doorway. Through the doorway was light, seeping through the tree canopy and then the skylight above him, illuminating the room in a dull, white light that meant he could see things more clearly. Henry let the bone torch drop to the floor, stamping it out before looking up and realising he was in some kind of garage. The whole room held a faint smell of oil, rubber hoses hanging on the walls and an old workbench to his left littered with rusted screwdrivers and wrenches.

He ran his finger over the cold metal tools that held a little heat from the sunlight streaming over them, but not enough to stop him from shivering. Henry looked around, behind himself, and noticed a car, covered in vines everywhere except the hood. He made his way along the body of the car, peering into the windowless doors and noting it wasn’t in bad shape. He had fixed up a similar car with Killian not that long ago, and that one was in worse shape.

“1992, Jeep Wrangler Sahara,” he muttered to himself as he brushed some leaves from the hood. The huge, red and yellow emblem of Jurassic Park stared back at him, the icon of the skeletal T-Rex the very same one that adorned the doorway outside.

Henry knew, without a doubt now, that he was exactly where he thought he was, and that meant he could try to get the car running and drive to Killian. The old visitor center was secluded, but Killian had set up home not far from it by car, and all Henry had to do was get the Jeep running in order to make his way to his friend. He twisted the hood clips and hooked his fingers under the lip of the hood, giving the metal as big a tug as he could manage. It lifted with a eerie groan, a scraping metal on metal sound, before Henry’s face lit up in joy.

The engine was intact, and more than that it was clean and free from the tendrils of vines that clutched onto every other surface in the place. It wouldn’t take much to troubleshoot the issue if any, the car had, and Henry would be on his way in no time.

The dots dancing on the screen in front of Ruby indicated every person in the park, a huge mass of bodies all in one place as the park’s emergency protocol was initialized. Everybody on the island was gathering in one place, the central hub of the park, so that they could be counted and anyone missing found. Under normal circumstances this would be a brilliant idea, but they had never had an asset out of containment before, and it worried Ruby to watch the ‘newly reinstalled’ tracking chip of the Indominus Rex move towards the visitor centre.

The asset containment team had come nowhere near to stopping her, all of them giving their lives in the struggle to subdue her, including one who had become an unfortunate meal for the huge hybrid dinosaur. As crude as it seemed, and it made Ruby’s stomach turn to even think about it, the idea to track her via the half-eaten man in her stomach hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. The huge blip on the screen was undoubtedly moving towards them and the huge mass of red dots on her screen, setting an easy feeling in her bones.

“She’s moving further south,” Ruby said a little panicked, watching the red dot pulse on her screen. Three sections of the dinosaurs path had been marked off by her, each indicating an event that had happened in her reign of terror so far. One was her escape, named simply as ‘Paddock 11’. The second was when the asset containment team were slaughtered, marked as ‘ACU attack’, and the third, and the most bone-chilling, was ‘Visitor attack’, which Ruby knew was where they had found the remnants of Henry’s gyrosphere.

It made her blood run cold.

“It’s headed right for the park,” she sighed, not even tearing her eyes away from the screen when the warmth of David Nolan looming over her shoulder distracted her.

“Why would she come here?” David frowned, leaning between Ruby and Mary Margaret, all three of them watching the imposing red dot near the visitor center.

Mary Margaret tried not to inhale his masculine scent with him so close, but David was more than just the park owner. He was a powerful man, something that came across in the way he dressed, the way he groomed himself and especially in the way he smelled. Like expensive cologne and fresh air, Mary Margaret was almost drunk on his presence, before the soft beep of the tracking indicator drew her attention back to reality.

“She can sense thermal radiation,” Mary Margaret said softly. “Our emergency measures have just put all of the warm bodies in one place.”

“Like an all you can eat buffet,” Ruby muttered. The sadness in her voice was not unnoticed, but before anyone had a chance to say anything, the sound of the elevator doors opening made all three of them turn at once.

“InGen,” Walsh said quickly, flashing his security badge at the guard who threatened to stop him as he stepped from the elevator. The man took a step back at Walsh’s authority, shooting David an apologetic glance as he bounded down the steps towards them. Walsh held up his badge once more, stopping in front of the confused man in a suit he assumed was in charge, and the two women at his side. “Walsh.” He announced his name like they should know who he was, none of them looking impressed with his appearance.

David narrowed his eyes, already annoyed with the intruder. He stood upright, letting his shoulder relax a little as he realised who it was, and figured out exactly why he was in the control room. David was a rich man, and one of his security companies, InGen, was working on the island to try and, against his knowledge, train raptors for combat. David hated the idea, only hearing brief whisperings of the ongoings of one of his branch companies before the Indominus had escaped and he had set his priorities on more important things.

“I know who you are,” David growled, turning to stare at Walsh.

“Then you know why I’m here,” Walsh chimed gleefully. He came to a stop just in front of the three of them, Ruby’s face visibly turning up in disgust for the man. “I’ve been working for two years on the practical applications of raptors,” he said proudly, one hand planted on his hip and the other pointing to the overhead screen. “They can hunt and kill that creature.” Walsh grinned wickedly, the idea of killing something so attractive to him that everyone could practically feel his bloodlust.

David folded his arms over his chest, looking the man up and down, wondering how he had grown so brave as to talk to his boss in such a way. “Your program was to test their intelligence,” David reminded him, casually letting Walsh know that he knew what was really going on.

“Yeah, it was. And we did,” Walsh interrupted him quickly, stepping even closer to David. The taller man felt sick, naive and used and Walsh looked like a hunter about to consume prey. “And in the process we learned they follow orders.” He nodded to the screen again, the soft chatter of people in the park picked up from the two way speaker systems installed throughout the visitor centre they were currently hold up in. “You see, the solution to your crisis, is staring you right in the face.”

Walsh ran his tongue over his teeth, the glint in his eye reminding David of a snake about to strangle its prey. He sucked in a breath, not intimidated by Walsh and not allowing the man a single inch of leg room with which to metaphorically kick him to the ground. This was his park, and despite some transgressions going on behind closed doors by some underhand companies in his industrial umbrella, David would not give in to bullying.

“Let me be as absolutely clear as I can,” he snarled, staring directly into the dead eyes of the man in front of him. “No Velociraptors are going to be set loose on this island.”

Walsh laughed, his entire body moving back as he clutched his hand across his chest and pointed to David accusingly. “You’re outta your mind,” he chuckled sadistically, moving to focus his attention back on the screen above them. “You got twenty thousand people here, what are you going to do?” His laugh made David’s jaw clench, but he remained unmoved by Walsh’s tirade. “They got nowhere to go. What are you going to do? That thing is a killing machine!” He barked.

David remained unmoved, back straightening and shoulders pulled back as if to seem taller. Ruby and Mary Margaret watched, astounded at the man’s audacity. Ruby’s jaw hung open a little and Mary Margaret was seething, the light flirtation she had so far received from David seemingly threatened by the man berating his boss so brazenly. David had heard enough, Walsh’s insubordination something he could tolerate no further.

“Okay, here is what’s going to happen,” David begun, licking his lips and looking down at his shoes as he stepped towards Walsh menacingly. “I am going to personally look into your project to determine its viability within the moral principles of this company.”

Walsh’s jaw ticked in anger and he snorted a sigh through his nose. “Okay, boss,” he said simply, emphasizing David’s title dramatically with a hiss. “Have it your way,” he snapped in irritation, turning away from the man in front of him and stalking back to the elevator.

David practically seethed at the insult, spinning on his heels and clicking his fingers to draw Ruby’s attention as soon as Walsh had left. “Ruby, get in touch with asset control,” he said firmly, remembering Killian’s earlier insistence on live ammunition. “Tell them to ready the M134 minigun-”

“You’re going to kill it?” Ruby interjected him.

“I think we can all agree that this has gone far enough,” David said solemnly. “This thing is my responsibility. I gave this entire project the green light-”

“This isn’t your fault,” Mary Margaret objected softly, jumping to her feet. She was closer than she had intended to be, their heaving chests almost touching as they breathed each other in. His scent was much stronger this close to him, her entire body buzzing from the near contact. “Please, don’t try and be a hero,” Mary Margaret croaked, her voice breaking a little.

“I won’t,” he smiled warmly. His hands came up to caress her arms, tracing the outline of her muscles with his thumb through the fabric of her shirt. He almost shook at the contact, the warmth of her skin like fire through her clothes, searing into his flesh so vividly he would never forget it.

“Ahem,” Ruby coughed, drawing them back to the room. “ACU are ready to go,” she said awkwardly, trying to focus on the screen in front of her rather than the display of affection at her side.

“Tell them they have a green light,” David told her, his voice louder than before. He gave Mary Margaret’s arms a final squeeze, ignoring the way the entire room was watching him, and instantly loving the way her cheeks pinked under his stare. “They are good to go.”

Henry blinked sweat out of his eyes, swiping the back of his grease-covered hand over his forehead and stopping more of the salty droplets from running into his eyes. The island was hot, the time of day something he was trying to contend with as he worked to fix the Jeep. There wasn’t actually much wrong with it and he had mainly been replacing a few parts for new ones he had found scattered around the garage space. There was just one more problem, and that was power. The battery in the old Jeep was dead flat, so Henry had been trying to wrangle one out of a nearby wreck.

He didn’t exactly know how the modern vehicle had come to be so close to the old visitor center, and if the blood over the driver’s seat was anything to go by, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He had explored around the compound in his search for parts, the battery the only thing he knew for certain needed to be as new as he could find. His heart pounded in his chest as he had found the battery of the crushed vehicle still intact, and had quickly worked to disconnect it.

Henry was just about done, lifting the heavily weighted box into his arms with a heft, when he heard a noise behind him. It was loud, like a huge wooden trunk snapping under the weight of something big, and he gasped suddenly, whipping his head towards the sound. Blood rushed through his ears, his short, shallow breathing seemingly too loud until he clamped his mouth closed and stared out into the jungle behind him. His eyes were wide with panic, desperately seeking any sign of movement in the trees, but there was nothing there.

“Totally safe,” Henry whispered to himself, clutching the battery harder to his chest and scuttling back up the steps to the old visitor center, back through the doors and leaning all of his weight against the wooden door until it scraped closed. “Totally safe,” he said again, the echo of the door closing fading into nothing and leaving him with just the jungle sounds again.

Henry rushed through the deserted room, towards the narrow doorway at the back where the Jeep was waiting. He lifted it into the battery compartment with a grunt, connecting the contacts with one of the rusted wrenches he has found, the muscles in his arms burning with every pull of tightening the bolt. He wiped his brow again, heaving a sigh, before moving around the Jeep and hopping into the driver’s seat.

This bit was easy. Killian had shown him how to turn over an engine so many times, even letting him drive around his little part of the island. He had to be careful so as not to flood the engine, he knew that much, and as he pushed the key further into the ignition where he had found it, he hoped the barrel wasn’t seized.

“Here we go,” Henry mumbled, twisting the key and stretching his leg into the footwell to stamp on the pedal. The engine gave a coughing sound, the entire Jeep rocking from side to side, but it stopped almost immediately. Henry flopped back in the seat, taking a breath, and then shuffled forward again in the cab, gripping the huge, round wheel. He pressed his foot down again and turned the key, eyes pinched closed. “Please, please, please,” he chanted quietly, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles went white.

The engine coughed again, then it ticked a few times, the screeching sound turning into the low rumble and low chugging sound of the cylinders as the fuel ignited in them and the engine started.

“Yes!” Henry shouted over the engine sound. He slammed his hand into the wheel, overjoyed at the sound the engine made when he revved it to keep the timing. “Thank you, Killian,” Henry beamed, jumping out of the cab so that he could close the hood. The old metal cover fell closed under its own weight and a loud click and Henry ran back to sit behind the wheel once more.

“What was that?” Emma whispered, stopping suddenly and grabbing Killian’s arm. He was in front of her, leading the way through the dense forest, when Emma heard the rumble of a misfiring engine close by. “It sounds like an engine,” she gasped, realisation hitting her.

Killian must have realised what she had at exactly the same time because he took off through the trees before she had time to move her feet, gun clutched to his body and the branches whipping at his bare forearms. The sound was close, and it meant so was somebody else. The only person unaccounted for on the island right now was Henry, but a darkness loomed over their joy as Killian soon realised that if they could hear the engine, so could the Indominus Rex.

The reached a clearing pretty quickly, the sunlight squeezing through the canopy over head and almost highlighting the shed to them. Killian stumbled onto the concrete floor first, dust and debris all over the place except for two perfectly neat tyre marks indicating where a vehicle had driven out. Emma scanned the small room, parts of cars all over the place and a half stripped shell of a Jeep next to the tyre marks. Her breathing sped up, her anxiety spiking as she realised she had just missed her son.

“Is this Henry’s?” Killian asked softly and Emma spun to face him. He was kneeling down in the dirty, gun clutched in one hand and a dirty shirt in the other. Emma breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed the light blue shirt was in fact the one Henry had packed into his backpack earlier that day.

“Yeah,” she breathed and Killian stood, offering her the shirt. Emma took it in her hands and clutched it to her chest, inhaling the salty smell of water mixed with Henry’s boyish scent. She looked out of the garage, watching the flattened grass try to sway in the wind, the distinctive tracks a car wide. “That road goes straight back to the park,” she smiled.

Killian investigated the shack some more, leaning his gun down against the body of the old Jeep next to them. He looked inside and the engine bay was bare, completely stripped of component. A few footprints littered the dust around the front of the car, smaller, squarer ones, like someone had been on their tip toed and he smirked to himself proudly. “Henry got one of these things started,” he declared, turning to face her again.

“How?” Emma frowned.

“I taught him,” he said quickly and Emma looked at him, impressed. She held his gaze, eyes flicking to his lips, before she moved to his side. She heard his breath hitch a little when she reached out and took his hand in her, gently tugging on the tips of his fingers with a smile.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “For being his friend.”

“It’s nothing, love,” Killian blushed, dropping his gaze to their entwined fingers.

“It might have saved his life,” Emma told him firmly, giving his fingers a squeeze.

Killian felt a conflict within him, the urge to kiss her so overwhelming he felt dizzy with the thought of it. Emma had made her intentions clear that night, a one time thing, but Killian had no idea she was actually serious until he had woke up to a cold, empty bed. He had wanted to call her, reach out like she was doing now, anything to feel her skin on his again, but there was constantly a wall between them that he couldn’t scale.

Killian was just about to lean forward, tugging her to him at the same time, when the thundering sound of huge footprints made them both freeze on the spot. Emma pulled her hand from his like she might be caught doing something she shouldn’t, and whipped her head towards the forest behind her. The sound echoed through the trees again, closer this time, and Emma glided across the floor silently to stand behind him in front of the Jeep. Another snapping sound from the trees made a flock of birds take flight, and they dropped to the floor, hiding in front of the car without a sound.

With a sudden thought, Killian looked down at his hands and realised he had left his gun propped up beside the Jeep, and as he peered around the edge of the vehicle to make sure, the huge, reptilian foot of the Indominus Rex appeared right outside the garage. Killian whipped back into position beside Emma, neck rigid, mouth tightly closed so as not to make a sound. The dinosaur snarled, the low rumbling giving Killian chance to exhale and he locked eyes with Emma, shushing her silently.

She nodded her head slowly, partly through fear as her body was shaking so hard, and partly because she had to give him a signal. The whole garage turned dark suddenly, the stench of blood and rotten meat filling the space between them as the Indominus poked her massive head into the space previously occupied by Henry’s Jeep. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled, the space only just accommodating her huge bulk as she finally opened her eyes and the pupil narrowed to a black slit.

Emma grabbed Killian’s hand, her fingers trembling, and she pinched her eyes closed. She was petrified, glued to the spot in the dirt where she sat, her bottom lip rolling under her teeth where she bit down to stop herself from crying out. Killian watched her, desperate to soothe her fear, but all he could do was hold onto her hand and rub his thumb over her knuckles, aware that the huge dinosaur was as close as ever.

A chain rattled overhead when the dinosaur moved, twisting her neck to the side and then nudging the side of the Jeep. Killian wasn’t sure if she knew they were there, or she was just simply curious about the strange vehicle she had never seen before, but he was sure he didn’t want to find out. The Jeep rocked behind them, bumping Emma in the spine and forcing her forward in the dusty floor.

Killian held her hand tightly, holding her steady when she began to quake all over, her golden hair bouncing on her shoulders where it sat. He leaned into Emma, away from the dinosaur’s snout as she toyed with the Jeep some more, and their foreheads touched. Emma’s lips trembled, head shaking from side to side against his, and a single tear fell from her closed eyelids with her terror. Killian couldn't move to comfort her, instead just simply clutching her hand with everything he had.

With a loud creak of metal, the Jeep was lifted from the floor but then dropped quickly, the Indominus clearly tiring of her game. The car was of no interest to her anymore, and she slowly pulled her head out of the garage with a shuffling sound, the raptor-like call not going unnoticed by Killian. Her footsteps grew more distant, but they had no idea where she was going, or if she had gone anywhere at all. Killian moved as silently as he could, releasing Emma’s hand reluctantly to reach around the Jeep and grab his gun, the barrel held to his chest when he resumed his position next to Emma.

Emma looked at him, meeting his nod of assurance with her own, letting him know she was alright. They both exhaled, a little harder then they probably should have, and before they had time to react, the ceiling was being pushed down on top of the them as the Indominus Rex crashed through the panelling. Killian grabbed Emma’s arm, yanking her to her feet and pushing her through the door to what he assumed was safety. He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t know what lie on the other side in the darkness, but it had to be better than the jaws of the massive dinosaur above them.

Indominus Rex screeched in frustration at their escape, Killian slipping through the door just in time to miss the Jeep carcass that was nudged into the tool chest that had been in front of them a few moments ago. They sprinted through the darkness, vines whipping at their flesh, shorter trees that had sprouted on the floor grabbing at their ankles, but they ignored it to push through to the light flooding in the door up ahead. It was slightly ajar, and Emma slipped through the gap before Killian, sprinting out into the forest.

The Indominus Rex smashed through the wall behind them, light flooding in behind her and she roared, her massive jaws opening like an alligator and the raptor-like screeching sound coming from her throat once more. For a second she was still, dropping to all fours where she crushed the skull of the T-Rex that previously held reign over the Jurassic Park visitor center, her massive bulk dwarfing the bone and crushing it into dust like it was nothing.

The sound of a helicopter overhead drew her attention, the chopping of the blades through the air making the dinosaur fall silent as she listened for the sound. It was new, potentially prey, so with a whip of her tail she spun on her agile heels and headed back out of the side of the building she had barged through. Her footsteps grew distant and Emma and Killian skidded to a stop, turning to watch her head in the opposite direction.

“Call your team,” Killian told her breathlessly. “We’ll follow her.”

Emma was already waiting for the call to connect before he had finished talking, Ruby’s name on the sat phone hidden as Emma pressed it to her ear. It wasn’t long before the call connected with a prolonged click, Emma’s pants flowing down the line as her and Killian gave chase.

“Ruby, we found her!” Emma cried, her words broken by how hard her feet hit the ground and her body vibrated. “South of the Gyrosphere Valley.”

“Wait, are you following the dinosaur?” Ruby screeched, checking her screen for a status update. The tracker had stopped moving recently and they had all come to the conclusion that she had deposited the device at some point as she headed south of the island.

“Yes,” Emma said definitely.

“Are you crazy?” Ruby told her friend, real worry in her voice.

“Get ACU out here,” Emma panted, ignoring her friend’s concern. “Real guns this time.”

“ACU is already airborne,” Ruby told her with a shake of her head.

Emma skidded to a stop and Killian followed suit, both of them coming up on an ledge that overlooked the part of the island where the aviary housed the flying dinosaurs. A huge domed greenhouse type structure sat in the distance, so big it looked closer than it was, and below them Emma could see the movement of trees as the Indominus headed towards it. Her roaring cry was overshadowed by the sound of a helicopter as it flew overhead, dipping into the valley and approaching its target.

“They’d better hit it this time,” Killian huffed, gripping the barrel of his gun in anger.

“They are professionals,” Emma told him, still breathless from running.

A snort escaped Killian’s mouth and he looked at her with a raised brow. “So were the last guys.”

#jw au #cs fic #cs au #cs ff #love finds a way #lurassic world au #ch 6 #fanart for fanfic

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