Month: February 2012

No magic clothes?

I owe Alcide a lot. I owe him for helping me find Emma when Marcus took her. I owe him for killing Marcus not just because he freed Emma and me from a life of fear and violence but also because he saved Sam and spared him from being a killer. And now, it seems I owe him for being honest and practical about what it’s like being two-natured.

In recent comments to Independent Online, actor Joe Manganiello, True Blood‘s own Alcide Hevereaux, explained that when you’re a shifter or a Were, nudity is just something you deal with. Whatever magic it is that allows us to transform from human to animal and back again, does NOT work on clothes. In other words, we spend a lot of time naked and looking for clothes. It’s just a fact of life for us.

It seems I also owe Alcide some thanks for all his hard work he puts in at the gym in order to make the two-natured look good.

So, thanks, Alcide. For everything. Now, do you suppose you could get the Pack off Sam and my back and let Emma grow up in peace for a few years until her nature manifests itself?

 

Advertisements

Out on the Town

Actress Janina Gavankar has been a bit of a social butterfly lately, according to The Vault. Unfortunately, she hasn’t let any news slip about what’s in store for Luna in the fifth season of True Blood.

On an up note, I do have some wonderful new outfits to wear out on dates with @SamMerlotteTB. This is my favorite. I wonder if Sam likes hats?

 

 

True Blood losing Alan Ball as a writer?

The rumor that Alan Ball may be limiting his future writing contributions to True Blood has been floating around for a while. Now, it looks like they just might be true…if you consider Forbes a credible source for Hollywood news. No timeframe has been identified, which probably means he’ll continue writing actively for the original HBO series until after he ruins my happily ever after with Sam….

 

 

sammerlottetb

Luna an’ Emma had left for the evenin’ an’ I found myself sittin’ in my office after the bar had closed thinkin’ back to the previous night. The shiftin’, the run, the chase, the danger, the relief of feelin’ like we had beaten the odds an’ then the sex.

Sex like our lives depended on it. The heat of flesh on flesh as all emotions came to the surface. Her moan as I entered her, her lips movin’ with mine, her body pressed against me as we moved as one, then wantin’ more as I explored every part of her with my hands an’ mouth. The way she responded under my touch, as though that touch was all she lived for, knowin’ that at that moment I would do anythin’ to have her, mind an’ body, an’ I possibly all already have.

My thoughts jolt back to Emma an’ her…

View original post 159 more words

What’s happening here?

“Sam…,” his name was barely more than a breath past my lips.

It didn’t need to go any further. Cradled in his arms, his own lips were less than a thought away. His scent surrounded me, part horse, part human, maybe a hint of collie, more than a hint of bar and all Sam. in that moment, there was nothing better in the world than being here with him. I gave in, sinking into his warmth and the comfort he offered.

I learned a long time ago not to depend on others. My willingness to lean on Sam now surprised me as much as it did him. in the year since we had met, never mind the months since Marcus died, Sam had been there. A quiet presence, he didn’t push or cling, although I knew he was worried about us. He let me fight my own battles and demons. That, more than anything, made him a treasure worth cherishing.

That might all change after tonight’s little adventure.

I didn’t understand why an entire Pack was after us. It wasn’t even the full moon. What were so many wolves doing in the woods around Bon Temps and Merlottes? I didn’t want to think they were all there just waiting for Sam and me to shift. Thank God we’d gone for horses. Anything smaller, like Emma or even Sam’s preferred dog form, would surely have become prey. I shivered at the thought.

Sam’s arms tightened around me. His mouth on mine was more demanding than usual. It was almost as if he were trying to drive the dark thoughts out of both our heads with his kiss. Twisting to straddle his legs, I tried to help him, deepening the kiss. Sam’s clean taste filled my senses as our warring tongues erased the tinny taste of fear from my mouth. His skin warmed under my hands as I sought tactile proof he hadn’t been hurt. I was ashamed of myself for not thinking about that possibility until now.

The memory of him rearing and pawing the air filled my mind. I always admired his strength and grace whether he was shifted or in human form. Tonight, maybe for the first time, I watched him turn a peaceful creature into a warrior. His hooves cut the air and pounded the earth like the deadly weapons they were. I understood then that he had a better grasp on the creatures he shifted into than I did. Maybe he understood himself better than I did. When all I could think of was running, getting to a phone and making sure Emma was all right, he was thinking strategically. He seemed to know what I needed, and would do what he had to to give it to me, but he wasn’t going to let me run headlong into more trouble. I followed his lead without even thinking about it.

A tug on my hair let me know he was still thinking and not about wolves. Fitting my body to his, I followed his lead again, letting myself forget everything except the wonderful man in my arms.

20120218-093649.jpg

A night in Marcus’ shoes

 Marcus strode through the Quarter like he owned the place. He made sure he was seen, hitting the most popular tourist traps and jazz joints. The town was filling up with Mardi Gras and Lent barreling down on them. A lot of strangers were in town. Lots of pretty girls. People in a mood to party and get a little wild. Now and again, Marcus would pause just to watch, or see if the pretty little things who couldn’t take their eyes off him were brave enough to sidle up and say hello. 

The krewes, be they human or supe, were gearing up for the parades but still keeping an eye on things. Marcus totally ignored the Weres shadowing him, never once looking into a window to catch their reflection, let them know he knew they were there. Every step, every sardonic lift of a lip, was an open challenge to the local Packs and he knew it. He just didn’t care.

A few people nodded at him or started in his direction. He didn’t quite encourage either, waiting until he was on his way back out the door before nodding back or just scowling as he slammed a beer or whiskey when someone looked like they might speak to him. The only ones he gave the time of day to were the bouncers and the bartenders. They had enough sense, or enough to do, to keep the chitchat to a minimum. The tips he left showed his appreciation and made sure they would remember him even in the crowd.

After a couple of hours, he saw what he was looking for. A dark haired Creole girl with skin the color of one of those fancy lattes Luna liked, hurrying through the crowds, eager to get home after work. He worked his way around so their paths would cross. A quick sniff and he knew she was no Were, though she hung or worked with supes. Their scent covered her. Marcus grinned and fell in step behind her.

As luck would have it, she was headed for one of the quiet streets leading away from the Quarter. He followed close enough that she knew she was being tailed and it made her nervous. Not nervous enough to turn back to the Quarter, however. Marcus guessed she must be heading somewhere close by or put too much faith in herself or her supe friends. His shadows wouldn’t follow him here, not unless they knew the girl, which, apparently, they didn’t. Marcus didn’t bother hiding a feral smile. The girl must have seen or sensed his smile because she picked up her pace, almost running towards her destination.

The porch light was on, someone was waiting for her. As she swung onto the porch steps, her backpack swung free, caught on the decorative railings. Marcus sprang into action, grabbing the bag. The girl had decent instincts. She let him have it and scrambled for the door, her keys in her hand, eyes on him. For a moment they stared at each other. Then the door behind her opened, a thin young man with a reedy voice stepped into the night, asking what was going on. 

Marcus freed the backpack from the railing with a violent jerk that tore through the heavy canvas like cotton gauze. The message was clear. This could end much differently and that choice was his, not theirs. Without a word, Marcus handed the girl her kit. Her jaw trembled though she raised her chin defiantly as she took it. Their eyes locked once more, Marcus nodded a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He was rewarded by a confused blush as he stepped away and headed back towards the Quarter.

A few houses away he ducked down an alley and stripped, shoving his clothes into trash cans, dog houses and under cars. The only thing he kept were his boots which he tied together by the laces before shifting into his wolf form. Taking up the boots, he began to run, easily leaping over hedges and racing across streets to where he had buried a bag earlier that night. With powerful paws he dug it up, yanking it from its hiding place. He took a good look around, drawing in deep breaths of air, seeking any sign that he was being watched. Confident he was alone, he began to shift again.

I would have loved to have just lain there forever. My skin and mind crawled with the knowledge of what I had just done. Even the cold dirt beneath me felt cleaner than i did. Not for long, though. My stomach rebelled and I retched until there was less than nothing in it. With shaking hands I buried the vomit and pulled on my own clothes. Stashing the boots in my bag, I began the long walk to the bus that would take me back to the airfield. I pulled a mini-bottle of whiskey out and swished it through my mouth before spitting it out. I knew I looked awful, hopefully the whiskey smell would fool everyone into thinking I was just drunk or something. It was a good thing I’d already called in sick for Friday. I wasn’t going to be in any shape, mentally or physically to deal with other people. 

Skinwalking was bad enough. Skinwalking as Marcus was a whole different level of disgusting. I didn’t want to know I could pull it off, that I could make people believe I was him. But I didn’t have any choice. Wolves were watching Emma and me. They were probably watching Sam, too. I couldn’t risk that they would do more tha watch, so I had taken Marcus’ form and begun sowing seeds of doubt that the Pack Leader was gone. I knew Marcus was gone. I also knew he’d never be forgotten. It made me want to kill him, again. Maybe I would.