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yutaholic · 4 months

Text

the show must go on (M)

PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Your best friend, your ride or die, Haechan has never once left your side, but all good things must come to an end.

WARNINGS: strong language; brief mentions of alcohol and drug abuse; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 7.9k words; this is part three of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Seattle, 1991

We met in detention. Eighth grade. Not to be cliché, but I knew Lee Haechan was trouble when he walked in.

Takes one to know one.

What I didn’t know was the role he would come to play in my life. I doubt many people meet their soulmate in middle school. I was pretty lucky in that.

The two of us practically lived in detention that entire year. Ninth grade was a little better; we just hung out behind the school instead of inside it. A silly pair of dumb kids wearing matching leather jackets and passing a cigarette back and forth, coughing up smoke and thinking it made us cool.

We thought we had it all figured out. But only Haechan turned out to be right.

He was the one that started the band. Haechan threw us all together and made music out of our chaos and trauma. He was the glue and without him, we would fall apart.

You clambered quietly into the passenger seat and whispered, “They’re asleep.”

Haechan was behind the wheel, but the van was parked on a grassy knoll just off the main highway. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he mumbled, sitting in a cloud of smoke that poured from his lips. The thick scent of marijuana filled the van from stem to stern.

You followed your best friend’s gaze. His eyes were firmly planted out the window at the black curtain of nightfall painted with billions of little lights. “The sky looks so pretty,” you said in awe.

“I know. It’s crazy seeing stars this bright.”

There was a tiny lull of silence. You were thinking. It wasn’t often you got to be alone with Haechan lately and it was making you crazy - not getting to confide in your best friend.

“I let Mark raw me,” you blurted out.

Haechan snorted. “I heard, but clearly your birth control did its job.”

“I snorted cocaine with Jeno… and fucked him in a dressing room.”

Your best friend looked at you, arching a brow. “So?” Doing crazy shit with Jeno wasn’t new, to be fair.

“What the hell am I doing?”

“What you do best - loving everyone except yourself.”

You frowned. Nail hitting the head every time, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t do that,” you said in a small voice.

Haechan smirked and put the joint to his lips, taking another long drag. “You know me better than to think I’m going to be your conscience and scold you,” he said a moment later. “It makes sense you’re trying to get in as many rounds of fun before the summer ends.”

The summer was winding down. August was half over.

I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t. Because I knew in my heart when we went home, we would go our separate ways. Forever.

There would be nothing holding us together anymore.

“Haechan?”

“Yes, my love?”

You fought back tears as you asked, “What are we going to do when it’s all over?”

Haechan slapped on a playful grin for your sake and said, “We’re going to get scouted at a concert and get a huge record deal and I’ll eat you out over a bed of hundred dollar bills.”

You snorted. “God, that would be a dream.” You quickly sobered. “What’s the reality?”

Your best friend’s grin melted away and his voice turned to frost. “Go home. Find a minimum wage job. And try not to turn into raging alcoholics like our parents.”

“I thought so,” you sighed, hanging your head.

Haechan reached over and rubbed your arm. “Save the major depressive episode for back home. Let’s just enjoy these last few days.”

“I don’t want to give up,” you said, meeting his eyes again. The fire inside you lit itself with resolve. No matter how small it was. “I want something more for us in life.”

“I know you do, baby,” Haechan crooned, touching your cheek affectionately. “But some things are just out of our control.”

You blinked with the urge to cry. You couldn’t fight it anymore. Regardless of his gentle tone, Haechan’s words sounded final. You slipped out of the seat and to the floor to lay your head on Haechan’s thigh, closing your eyes as he stroked your hair.

After a moment, Haechan whispered, “I’ll never forget you for as long as I live. No matter what happens. I hope you know that.”

The tears slipped down your face as you smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Haechan’s lips twitched. He wanted so badly to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t. He knew damn well when the summer ended and the band came up empty, there would be a permanent wedge of broken hearts and crushed dreams between you.

So, so lonely. That was Haechan’s biggest fear. Losing his best friends would destroy him beyond repair. He would go through life jaded and bitter, like his parents.

Maybe it really was unavoidable. Fighting fate sounded great in songs, but reality wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.

The next morning, you woke in the bed with Jeno’s arm tucked around your waist, his body molded to yours keeping you warm. There was no telling which boy scooped you off the floor and put you in bed, but your money was on Mark. He was having a hard time looking at you and Haechan was mysteriously quiet.

But you knew why.

Tension had settled over the van, the worst of the worst. After the show in Seattle, there were no more gigs to be played. Now, the long drive home would begin, shadowed by defeat and failure.

You resorted to doing what you always did; trying to alleviate the pressure and raise everyone’s spirits. Once the boys were up and actually keeping their eyes open, you had Jeno drive to the nearby state park.

As he did, you drifted between them. They were like strangers, devoid of energy and hope. Mark hadn’t touched his guitar since the final gig. The gentle strumming of his acoustic and the beauty of his softly whispered singing didn’t fill the van anymore, to your dismay.

Haechan curled up in the bed and didn’t say a word. Jeno drove silently, smoking one cigarette after another and blowing the smoke out the window. You started with him, running your hand over his shoulder as he held the wheel. Jeno glanced at you briefly, offering a weak smile that even he couldn’t keep. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

You went to Mark next and curled up next to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly. Mark was a little surprised, seeing as how the two of you had been working hard to keep your hands off each other, but was over the moon to have you in his arms again. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands up and down your back.

“Won’t you play a little something?” you asked gently.

Mark shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, closing your eyes to fight the tears.

Finally, you went to Haechan and sat on the mattress next to him. He just looked at you, his stare vacant and blank. You brushed his long hair from his face and leaned in to trace a few kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, just to see if you could spark a reaction.

Haechan pushed you ever so slightly and said, “That’s not going to work this time.”

You frowned. And gave up. The three were inconsolable and it broke your heart.

Sidling over to the cabinet, you found your notebook and began flipping pages, going to where you’d left off. Your brows stitched when you didn’t find it and that was when you noticed the torn remains of paper in the metal spiral.

“Okay. Which one of you ripped the page out?”

Mark met your eyes and said, “Don’t look at me.”

You called, “Jeno?”

“You know I wouldn’t touch your shit,” he replied calmly.

Leaving you to turn to Haechan, his eyes closed. “Haechan?”

“I don’t give a fuck about your memoir,” he said, hissing your name.

That made you flinch. You understood his anger, but not the vitriol toward your story. Your eyes fell to the notebook and the missing page, and your hands began to shake.

You threw the notebook at the cabinet and it landed in a pitiful heap. Tensing with frustration, you bent your legs, wrapped your arms around your knees, and hid your face, crying as quietly as you could.

Mark moved slowly, grazing against you to pick up the notebook and tuck it back into its place neatly, but he didn’t have the courage to comfort you. Too scared he would make it worse.

It was Haechan that slipped to the floor and enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest and dabbing at your cheeks with his sleeve.

When Jeno pulled into the park, you breathed in relief. The van was too stifling, suffocating you in all its misery. You hopped out of the van without a word and started marching for the scenic overlook advertised on a giant sign like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

One-by-one, your bandmates whined and huffed, but inevitably followed. They could wallow in their own disappointment, but they couldn’t stand seeing it hit you.

That’s how the four of you came to sit at a lone picnic table, silently staring at the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves ebb and flow in all its unwavering glory.

The tears had dried on your face. Breathing in the sweet, salty air grounded you again, clearing your lungs and your head.

You were the one to finally break the silence. “I need to come clean about something.”

“Go ahead,” Jeno replied, yawning as he still struggled to shake off sleep.

Wringing your hands in your lap, you began, “I’ve been mailing pieces of the memoir to Cassie.”

“That explains the trips to the post office,” Mark said offhandedly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be glib or not.

“And?” Jeno pressed.

You took a breath. “She submitted it to a publisher for their… consideration, I guess it’s called.”

Well, that woke everyone up.

“Are you serious?” Haechan asked, his eyes wide.

“Yeah?” You were befuddled by the reaction, glancing around at them. All three of your boys were sporting similar looks of shock. “You knew I was writing a memoir.”

“We knew you were scribbling in a notebook to toss in a bin and find it again twenty years later and laugh at all the dumb shit we did…” Haechan’s tone of disdain was not lost on you.

Jeno’s gawking increased. “Babe, are you insane?”

You felt small on that picnic table between them, utterly confused, and snapped, “No. I’m trying to get us out of this hell!”

Grimacing, Mark asked pointedly, “You wrote about all the very illegal shit you’ve been doing?”

Oh. That’s why they were freaked out. Underage drinking. Marijuana. Cocaine. All very punishable offenses. You shrugged and plastered on your cutest, most innocent smile. “A little?”

“Fuck,” Jeno swore, sliding off the bench to his feet and running a hand through his hair.

Haechan shook his head and chuckled. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You rubbed your arms awkwardly.

I was so determined to make it work. It was tunnel vision, so intense I could see nothing else.

“What did the publisher say?” Mark asked, touching your shoulder in comfort. The awkwardness was killing him too.

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I call Cassie at every stop to check on the dogs and she promised to update me on any replies from the publisher.”

Jeno looked to Haechan. “Can they report us to the cops?”

Haechan waved him away, looking more amused the longer he thought about it. “No. She can just say it’s all fiction. Very embellished fiction.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Good thinking.”

You almost laughed. Haechan could lie his way out of almost anything. In this case, it would be in your favor. You glanced around at your boys again. “So…, is everyone mad at me or are we good?”

“We’re good,” Haechan said, patting your head. “For now.”

“Fuck.” Mark sounded exhausted. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I could handle losing our music career, but being notorious in a fucking book.”

It was your turn to comfort him, running your hand across his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers.

Jeno kicked at a pinecone, watching it skitter across the rocks. “We’d be the fucking losers just known for banging bitches at every stop,” he sneered. Then, the drummer had a thought and raised his brows. “Actually, whatever gets us paid, I don’t really care.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” Mark asked curiously. “You technically wrote the book, but it’s about all of us.”

You made a face. “It’s our story. Of course I’d split everything fairly with you guys.”

Haechan smiled at you ever so faintly.

“I can’t believe our story’s almost over,” Jeno mumbled bitterly.

You perked up. This was as good a time as any. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

You got up and spun on your heels, so you could face them all at once. “I was thinking…,” you said, shifting your weight. “We could get a place together and we’d work odd jobs to pay the bills, but we would play gigs here and there. Whatever we could get.”

Jeno simpered. You weren’t clinging to the band. You just didn’t want to let go of them.

“We’d be scraping by a living forever,” Mark pointed out.

“But we’d be doing what we love,” you argued.

“Try loving something that never loves you back,” Haechan said harshly. “You become bitter and miserable. Just like my parents. And yours.”

You scanned their faces. Each had the tiniest bit of hope in their eyes, but their expressions were firmly rooted in defeat. “You guys just want to go home after everything we did this summer and…,” you trailed, a tremble creeping into your voice. “Pretend like it never happened?”

Jeno softened. “Of course it happened. We’ll always look back and remember this as the best days of our lives.” He talked to you like he was soothing a fussy baby. “But best days don’t last. That’s why you look back on them.”

Your eyes burned. More tears would come any moment now and you weren’t ashamed of them. “I just don’t understand why you’re all giving up. Why am I the only one trying to keep us together?”

“Because you’re the dreamer,” Mark sighed.

Haechan snapped, “Stop being so gentle with her,” and Jeno was quick to warn, “Don’t be a dick.”

Your best friend jumped down from the picnic table and approached you. You knew by his tone and his gait that he was about to dress you down and you readied yourself for the blow.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Haechan started, pointing at the guitarist. “Mark’s parents will blow their entire retirement savings to send him to a good college to recover their reputation. And they will never let him date someone like you.”

You flinched.

“Fuck you,” Mark hissed, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.

Haechan continued, “Jeno won’t be able to hold down a job. He’ll be a regular customer in rehab, then jail.”

Jeno held up his middle finger. “Go to hell.”

Haechan set his eyes on you and a chill ran down your spine. “And you,” Haechan said through clenched jaws. “You’ll meet some guy you can barely stand, but he’ll keep a nice roof over your head. He’ll put a couple babies in you after some miserable missionary and your entire personality will center around the screaming kids you never wanted. Just like your mom.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Planting both hands on Haechan’s chest, you shoved him back and screamed, “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”

Jeno was suddenly caught in a very precarious position. As you stomped off, his first instinct was to go after you, but in the next second, Mark was off the table and charging toward Haechan. So, Jeno had to decide whose life was in the most imminent danger.

And he correctly chose Haechan.

Mark grabbed Haechan by the collar with both hands and crowded into his face. “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he roared, but Haechan didn’t fight back.

He was numb. His face was blank, his eyes cold.

Jeno did his best to wedge himself between them, but he was too defeated. All the thunder was gone from him. “Why did you do that to her?” he asked sadly.

“She has to let go of us,” Haechan replied, looking from Jeno to Mark. “Make her hate you. It’s the only way.”

Mark shook his head in dissent, clenching his fists even tighter in Haechan’s shirt.

You put plenty of distance between yourself and the boys, and the moment you found a solitary bench between trees, you collapsed onto it, buried your face in your hands, and wept.

We have no secrets, Haechan and I. He knows the darkest depths of my soul, and I know his.

I never thought he’d use that as a weapon, but I should have known.

He was the only one that dreamed bigger and harder than me. With it all ending, his heart was dying and pain makes us do horrible things. Especially to the ones we love most.

Because he knew I would still love him anyway. No matter how much he broke me.

Time lost all meaning as you cried on that bench. It wasn’t just Haechan’s words that crushed you, it was the cruel reality of life. You didn’t want to live without your boys. The four of you were too interwoven and connected. Being parted from them would be like tearing at the fabric of who you were.

You were expected to walk around with a gaping hole in your chest forever?

Sure. Most people did. It would account for all the hate and anger in the world.

“My love?”

You lifted your head at the sound of his voice, roughly wiped your wet cheeks, and growled, “Go away, Haechan. I swear to god, I will slap the shit out of you.”

Haechan dragged his feet over to you and said, “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

You refused to look at him as he sat beside you. Your eyes focused on the ocean.

We had the same biggest fear. Becoming our parents. As time went on, the more it seemed inevitable. A cycle that couldn’t be broken. We were fools to think we could be different.

That’s what I was hanging onto. I had to avoid that fate at all costs. Part of me thought that as long as I had my boys, they could save me from it.

“How could you say my worst nightmare so casually like that?” You were still shaking.

Haechan hung his head. “I was trying to hurt you.”

You scoffed, deadpanning, “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like all the air was sapped from his lungs. When you didn’t respond, Haechan said, “Look at me. Please.”

“No.”

Your best friend sighed loudly and slouched into the bench, resting his head on the back. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, watching the world pass you by.

“You’ll prove me wrong,” Haechan said tenderly. “You will be the one that breaks the cycle. The rest of us will just watch.”

Still, you said nothing. You hated him.

Because Haechan always ended up being right. It was a gift and a curse.

Mark and Jeno came looking. The latter was the only one brave enough to approach you, holding out his hand without a word. You peered up at him and let your hand slip into his, and Jeno led you away.

Haechan blinked and the tears escaped. He held them back until you left, refusing to cry in front of you. Keeping his hands in his lap, Haechan didn’t bother to dry his cheeks.

Mark blew out a pained breath. “What do we do?”

“You know what you have to do,” Haechan said, cutting his eyes at Mark. “If you don’t stand up to your parents, they’ll make you give her up.”

“I won’t,” Mark started.

“They will wear you down. You know they will. She’s not who they have in mind for their perfect boy. They hate her.”

Mark nodded.

“If you grow a spine, the two of you can at least live happily ever after,” Haechan joked, but there was a bitter edge to his voice.

“What about you and Jeno?”

Haechan stood. “It is what it is.”

The cloud in the van darkened. Jeno and Mark were miserable, and predictably stoic about it. Neither knew what to do with you. As it turned out, you were the rock, not Jeno.

Curled up in the bed with your back to them, you closed your eyes, but had no intention of sleeping. You would just lay there and wait for something to break or change. You’d done the heavy lifting so far. Now it was their turn.

Haechan couldn’t take the silence anymore. He trudged out of the van and slammed the door behind him.

You didn’t bat an eye. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to ask or care.

That wasn’t true. I always cared. Nothing could ever make me stop caring. We are all cursed and that was mine.

When the doors wheeled open, Haechan was sweaty and disheveled. You wondered how much time had passed as he sat on the mattress beside you. “Come with me,” your best friend said, holding out his hand.

You smarted, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll drag you.”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him an obstinate glare, but your curiosity was piqued. The hell had he been doing that got him so shiny with sweat? It didn’t take him that long to jerk off.

A defeated sigh left your lips. He was still your best friend, even if you hated his guts at the moment.

After batting his hand away, you got up and followed Haechan outside, rolling your eyes at the looks Mark and Jeno were sporting.

Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as Haechan led you into the trees, not too far from the van. When you saw what he was bringing you to, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

A camping tent was set up; the one Haechan had insisted on strapping on top of the van in case he found a nice spot. And it seemed he found one.

This was a habit of ours. When the yelling at my house got to be too much, when I couldn’t block it with my locked door or the blankets over my head, I would sneak out the window.

My parents didn’t notice. Hard to notice if you don’t care. Haechan would always be waiting to run off with me to the park. There were safe, secluded areas to set the tent up without fear of being interrupted.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten laid in that pathetic little tent. I’d probably mourn the damn thing when it finally fell apart.

Just as I mourned my relationships.

“How about a night not sleeping in the van?” Haechan asked, unzipping the front flap and holding it open for you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you barked, narrowing your eyes at him and crawling inside.

Haechan bit his tongue. Any witty remarks would not be appreciated at the moment.

But given Haechan was allergic to quiet, he wasn’t going to keep enabling your cold shoulder for much longer. Watching you lay on your back and make yourself comfortable over the sleeping bags, Haechan sidled up next to you as close as humanly possible.

“I’m still mad,” you huffed.

“I know.”

Well, with that out of the way, you relaxed. He knew you were upset. Now the groveling could begin.

Haechan rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, staring at you and how intensely you were ignoring him. He reached over and stroked your cheek tenderly, and said, “I love you. It’s gonna hurt so much when you leave me.”

You closed your eyes, your heart clenching in your chest. “Then why are you trying to make me leave?”

“To give myself some control over the pain. Maybe.”

You turned your head and looked at him. His hair had grown longer over the summer, its natural jet black. It was cute; falling into his eyes, hiding them behind fluffy strands. You brushed some back with your fingertips so he couldn’t hide. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Haechan smiled softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “You’re my best friend. I’ll be next to you in a nursing home.”

“Will you still kiss me if I have no teeth?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Heck yes. That would be hilarious.”

Both of you laughed at the sudden mental image of you and Haechan as two little old people sucking each other’s faces.

The rest of the world melted away. Your summer wasn’t coming to an end. It was just another night spent from home inside Haechan’s tent. If you didn’t think too hard, you could convince yourself nothing had changed.

Nothing was over.

You talked for ages, about everything. Like always. The light beyond the tent died and everything went dark, prompting Haechan to light a familiar lantern beside the sleeping bags. Soon, the ambience shifted from birds chirping to crickets singing.

When the atmosphere changed, so did the gravity inside the tent.

He was good at talking you away from the edge. Haechan made you laugh hard enough you forgot your anger and sadness, and he started stealing kisses between words. His hand occasionally traced patterns on the bit of your exposed stomach until it slipped under your shirt and got comfortable palming your breast. That’s when you began initiating kisses and running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing overtook conversation. You were immune to all the pain when his lips were on yours and you wanted more, wanted to overdose on the feeling until your heart was made of stone.

Haechan was my family. He was the only home I’d ever known, the only person who loved me unconditionally like my parents were supposed to. Soul mates aren’t always romantic. Maybe they’re just the person that loves you despite everything.

There was a little hitch in his breath as Haechan deepened the kiss, his arms heavy around you. He needed it too, needed to feel loved again before it was all over.

Your lashes fluttered as Haechan settled on top of you, abandoning your lips to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, having been pulling him to you impatiently. His leg wedged between your thighs, pressing against your sex.

Haechan tugged at your clothes, undressing you while he bruised the base of your neck with his lips and teeth. When you yanked off his clothes and finally felt his naked body against yours, you moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his long hair.

It was so familiar and comforting. With Haechan, everything was okay. Nothing could hurt me here.

He seemed in no rush to touch you where you really wanted him to. Typical. Haechan always dragged things out and made it last. He knew you had all the time in the world and was in no hurry to plow through it. Pun intended.

Haechan sucked your nipple into his mouth and pinched the other with his fingers. You bit your lip and squirmed under him, feeling his hard cock against your thigh. You hooked your legs on his hips and flexed, bringing him flush against you for good measure.

You flipped your positions and Haechan let you, holding your waist as you rolled onto him, straddling his lap. He kissed you even deeper, running his hands up and down your back while you cradled his face and tried to snatch all the air from his lungs.

Haechan broke from the kiss to ask playfully, “Have you been writing about sex in the book?”

You were breathing heavily, flushed and dazed from his kisses. “Yeah,” you rasped, running your hand through your hair to get it out of your face.

Haechan tugged you back down and trailed kisses over your jaw before whispering in your ear, “I need to give you some new material.”

“As if you haven’t given me plenty already.”

“I have competition,” he retorted, brushing his hands to your breasts. “Jeno is a slut with a dragon dick. You have a fat crush on Mark and he railed the shit out of you.”

You snickered. “Who are you then?”

Haechan steered you up and shuffled down until his arms were around your thighs and his mouth was inches from your sex, and purred, “I’ll always be the one that gave you your first nut.”

Though you were about to laugh at that, the next sound out of your mouth was a whimper as Haechan tongued at your folds. You were mindful not to put too much of your weight on him, but his hands on your hips said otherwise, bringing you down to meet his lips.

The sight of his face buried in your pussy, between your thighs, was so arousing you felt your walls clench on nothing.

“Fuck.” You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. Reaching for his hands on your hips, you held on tight and joked breathlessly, “The book will give us more groupies than the band ever did.”

Haechan stopped sucking on your clit long enough to retort, “God, I hope so.”

An involuntary shudder shot through you when he latched back onto your bundle of nerves. You squeezed his hands even tighter, eyes winching closed. Another moan tumbled off your tongue. Haechan didn’t play when he was sucking you dry.

It was probably one of the few things in life he took seriously.

“Mm,” you hummed, trembling when his tongue swirled around your entrance before returning to your clit. “So good, baby.”

Haechan made a noise against your cunt. “You know, you only call me baby when I’m getting you off.”

“Do I?”

“I like it.”

“I like when you touch me,” you said in barely a whisper, biting your lip lest you go into juicy detail.

Haechan would have loved that.

You were so far gone already. Your hands found his hair, your hips bucking against his face. Little nothings mingled with your moans. Haechan kneaded your hips, but as you got closer, he reached up to grab and squeeze your breasts instead.

It felt so good you felt guilty that you weren’t touching him. Releasing his hair, you lilted back and wrapped your hand around his hard cock, feeling it twitch the moment your fingers made contact.

Haechan broke away from your pussy and scolded, “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“Only think about yourself right now. Be selfish. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed and let Haechan guide your hands back into his hair, and he bit the inside of your thigh as a warning to do as he said. Your body tensed when he lapped at your clit again and you decided to obey. You would be selfish.

Haechan smirked when you arched away from him, propping yourself over him on your arms and riding his face. He reeled a hand back and slapped your ass, the best way he knew how to convey to you that you were giving him exactly what he wanted.

He lapped at the arousal between your folds, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves again. Haechan knew that was your weak spot, where you were most sensitive. If he played his cards right, he could have you screaming for mercy from the overstimulation.

“Right there,” you panted, voice pitching higher. "I'm close."

For once in his life, Haechan said nothing. He ate you out like a man starved, suddenly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. He sucked on you until your legs shook and you whimpered his name.

And when orgasm hit, you went higher than where the cocaine took you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body shuddered, and you chanted, “Fuck,” like a mantra.

Haechan kept going until you pushed frantically at his head.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you begged, fisting his hair and finally earning yourself a reprieve.

Haechan chuckled, slipping his arms under your legs and tossing you to the side. You gladly rolled to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, waiting to come back to your senses.

You felt his hand smoothing its way up your thigh before cupping your sex, feeling all the slick he’d gotten out of you and muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. His fingers prodded into your pulsing pussy, hooking at your sweet spot, and you writhed, sensitive.

“Put a condom on,” you told him hurriedly, still trying to catch your breath.

As you came down from the high, Haechan crawled over to the other side of the tent and returned with a packet, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched him fit the condom on his hard cock and you spread your legs invitingly when he moved between your legs, grasping your knees and pushing them toward your chest, bending you in half.

You rested your hands on his hips and drew him toward you when he slipped his cock into your entrance and stroked in slow. “Mm, baby, you’re so good,” you mewled dramatically. “The biggest ever.”

Haechan, whose eyes had been on his cock sinking into your tight cunt, tossed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “Fuck you,” with a tiny snort.

You grinned and sank your fingers deeper into the flesh of his hips, tugging him toward you in tandem with his movements. He loved when you left scratches and bruises in his skin. A reminder of you he got to carry around with him for days after.

“Kiss me,” Haechan whispered, rocking into you harder.

Without missing a beat, you lifted your head to meet his lips, but his hands wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the ground. A noise of frustration left you, because you couldn’t close the rest of the distance with him holding you down.

Nipping at your lips, he taunted, “What’s the matter?”

Rather than answer, you moaned as his cock bottomed out in you again. Your face tensed with pleasure, every thrust making your toes curl. You were still raw from orgasm and his cock hitting you right made a shudder race through you.

Haechan went still. When you peered up at him in confusion, he smirked and said, “Fuck me.”

You hooked your thighs higher up his hips and started grinding into him. Haechan looked down to watch you bouncing on his dick, sucking in a breath when your pace grew more hurried and desperate.

“Please move,” you whined, eyes closed. Sweat formed at your back with the effort, your body burning.

“You’re doing fine without me.”

“I’m never okay without you,” you said breathlessly, out of your mind with lust and emotions. The two were colliding.

Haechan draped over you, slipping his fingers into your hair, and fucked into you at a ruthless pace for that, making you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

The last thing you wanted was his name echoing through the woods. You would never live it down.

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” You clawed at his back, trying to find purchase.

Haechan gathered you in his arms and you sat up face-to-face, straddling his lap. Haechan kissed at your neck, crushing you in his arms. You rode him, his hips matching your rhythm.

“Come for me,” Haechan purred in your ear, saying your name silkily. “Again.”

It wasn’t fair that he could snap his fingers and your body would answer. You were so close and had been together for so long, your skin knew his touch. Your heart gave in to his every desire and whim.

Ecstasy spilled over and a moan caught in your throat.

Haechan held you even tighter as you came, biting his lip as he felt you clamp down on his cock, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm until you sighed his name and slumped against him.

You buried your face in his shoulder and whimpered as his thrusts turned ragged, his groans pitching higher until he released into the condom. You rubbed his back and kissed his neck while he came down, lowering you to the floor gently and landing at your side.

The two of you breathed heavily. Sex broke something in you both that you needed. It felt final.

Like it was the last time.

Haechan discarded the condom and crawled back to you, getting a blanket out from one of the sleeping bags to drape over your bodies. You nestled closer to him, ready to doze off in his arms. Haechan settled a hand on your thigh, the other behind his head. Your eyes fluttered closed as his chest rose and fell with his breaths.

“I’ll never stop fighting,” you whispered with resolve. “And you shouldn’t either.”

He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to your temple.

The next day, the van was on its way home. You sat in the passenger seat as Jeno drove, just as you had when summer - and the trip - started.

When Jeno parked at a rest area, you ventured inside to look for a payphone.

Haechan leaned back against the van, arms folded.

Mark wandered over to him, asking in a soft voice, “How is she?”

“Ask her yourself,” Haechan retorted.

Mark frowned. “You know her better than anyone.”

Haechan’s eyes darkened as he said, “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jeno, who had been hovering close by, smirked at the exchange and murmured, “Says the one person actually capable of hurting her.”

Haechan shot him a glare. “She loves Mark more than she ever loved us,” he started.

Jeno was quick to cut him off, “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“Maybe she’s right about us,” Mark spoke up, glancing between them. “Maybe we should stay together and try to make it work.”

Haechan let his head fall back and groaned. “Pussy power strikes again.”

“Are you done?” Mark snapped. “You are the biggest hypocrite, you know. You’re hoping and praying she’s right. That she makes something happen. You’re trying so hard to look like you don’t care, but you don’t want to lose us.”

Tears filled Haechan’s eyes. His lips pursed.

Jeno cocked his head. “We know that, Mark,” he crooned cutely. “Our Donghyuck cares the most. That’s why he tries so hard to hide it.”

Haechan quickly wiped his cheeks. The tears had escaped too fast. After a pause, getting himself together, Haechan said, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean it.”

“We know that too.” Jeno reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

The two looked at Mark expectantly. His anger faded and he huffed a sigh.

Your voice broke the moment. “Guys!”

“What?” Jeno barked, turning to see you racing across the parking lot toward them.

You could hardly breathe, panting like you’d run a marathon. “They want to publish the book!”

All three of them gaped in perfect sync.

“Are you fucking serious?” Haechan wheezed.

“Yeah,” you said in disbelief, chuckling to yourself. “They want me to keep sending in chapters and they’ll assign me an editor to help organize everything. And then I’ll have to fill in the gaps, but… it’s gonna be a book. An actual book!”

In the next second, you were the meat in a boy sandwich and you couldn't have been happier about it.

Once everything calmed down, Mark shook his head and exclaimed, “This is insane!”

Haechan took your face in his hands and planted a big kiss on your lips with a loud, “Mwah!” Which made Jeno whine, “I was gonna kiss her and I can’t now!”

“I’ll kiss you too,” Haechan taunted, wagging his tongue and reaching for Jeno, making the drummer turn on his heels and run for his life.

You giggled as Haechan chased after him and Mark took the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your neck, enveloping you in a hug. You held him tightly and closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“You did it,” Mark whispered, saying your name in reverence. “You made this summer count for something.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

Haechan and Jeno traipsed back over, pushing and shoving each other with big grins on their faces.

With the celebration winding down, you looked at your boys one-by-one and said, “There’s a couple of conditions.”

Jeno grumbled. Haechan arched a brow.

“I won’t write the last chapters and send them in until you get clean,” you said, pointing at Jeno.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” You planted your feet and stared him down. “You think I’m going to risk this book being a hit and us getting a huge payday just for you to blow it all on blow?”

Jeno sulked.

“It’s a fair condition,” Haechan said lightly.

“I know it is!”

You waited patiently.

“I’m not an addict,” Jeno insisted. “I am a casual user.”

“Then you can casually stop,” you smarted.

He made a face. After a tiny lull, Jeno handed you the bag from his back pocket and you didn’t hesitate to cram it into your own. Its next destination was the nearest toilet.

You turned to Mark. “There’s a condition for you too.”

Mark grimaced nervously. “I’m listening.”

“You have to do what you want with your own life. Not what your parents want.”

Mark visibly relaxed. His eyes went soft. Something happy and content washed over him. “But I don’t know what I want.”

You shrugged. “You have time to figure it out. Change your mind as many times as it takes until you find what makes you happy.”

“Okay,” said Mark, smiling.

Finally, you turned to Haechan. “And you.”

He tilted his head and puckered up his lips.

“You’re not your father, Haechan.”

“You sure? I was pretty quick to cut you down.”

You scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m still standing. Bitch.”

Haechan chuckled.

“She’s right,” Jeno said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to press a kiss to your cheek. “We shouldn’t give up on the band already.”

“The book could make some people check us out,” Mark added, optimistic again.

All eyes were on Haechan. He smiled bashfully and said, “And if it doesn’t - if it all fails - at least we’ll know we tried.”

“No regrets,” you finished with a nod.

Haechan suddenly reached into his pocket and handed you a balled-up page.

The missing chapter of your memoir.

You gaped when you realized what it was. “I should have known you took it.”

“I couldn’t handle someone talking so highly about me,” he said under his breath.

“Oh. Only you’re allowed to speak highly of yourself?”

Mark and Jeno laughed.

Haechan did too. Then he sobered and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for believing in me.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Haechan, you started the band. Don’t you remember?”

“No?”

“We met in detention in eighth grade,” you reminded him, to which Haechan bobbed his head. “You noticed Jeno drumming his hands. You said you saw Mark playing acoustic by himself during lunch. And you heard me singing under the bleachers when I skipped gym.”

“I forgot all that,” Haechan mumbled, his eyes twinkling like they shone with stars. “Damn, I really gotta quit drinking.”

Mark moved to your free side and said, “Yeah, dude. We’re all here because of you.”

Haechan looked at his three best friends, his family, smiling at him, and it almost broke him on the spot. He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

Jeno laughed loudly. “I’ll be damned. All you’ve ever wanted is to be the center of attention and now that you’ve got it, you don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Yep,” Haechan said with a sheepish grin.

You closed the distance and hugged him, patting the back of his head. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” you whispered for his ears alone and Haechan let go the breath he’d been holding, releasing all the tension and pain in his chest.

Once you parted, Mark reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. You melted into his familiar arms and flushed when he said, “You are, by far, the greatest person I have ever met.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.”

“Wait.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted to your toes. “Maybe a little more.”

Mark smiled as his lips met yours in a chaste kiss that he poured his all into.

A kiss that was dramatically interrupted by Jeno, knocking into Mark enough to jostle you both. “It’s not your job to save us, you know,” he chided sweetly.

Yes, it was and it always would be. Because they saved me first.

“Hey, I’m just an instrument of the power of rock and roll,” you said, putting a hand on Jeno’s chest and giving him a playful shove.

“I take back every compliment I’ve ever said to you,” he joked, tickling your sides.

You laughed.

The four of you gabbed and teased each other for what felt like an eternity. The air was lighter. The sun a was a little brighter. Your boys were smiling again and you felt the pieces of your heart snapping back into place.

Hope is a powerful thing. A gentle promise that maybe - just maybe - we could all be happy and whole.

“We’re burning daylight,” Jeno eventually said.

You exclaimed, “Let’s hit the road,” and it was the first time you said it without dread.

Hopping into the van after you, Mark stuck his head out and called, “Don’t forget the trash.”

Jeno proceeded to scoop Haechan up in his burly arms and carried him to the van.

“Very funny,” Haechan deadpanned, but he couldn’t help but grin.

Smiling till your cheeks hurt, you got in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, pulling out of the rest area and onto the highway, toward the new life awaiting you and your boys.

Everything would change for us. The drive home wasn’t some miserable journey we’d been fearing. It was the final chapter of our summer, but only the beginning of our story.

#nct #nct smut #haechan #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #haechan x reader

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crestfallercanyon · 4 months

Text

I don't think this is long enough to be a real fic, and it's also not polished as I wrote it in a notes app on a plane, but have a little gallavich ficlet:

Title: A Way to Keep the Nice Things Ship: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Content Warning: Mental Health, Bipolar Disorder, Hallucinations

Ian recognizes that he needs to take his meds, and maybe even book an appointment, solely based on what he sees when he walks into the kitchen that morning.

Still, he can’t help but stare.

Their apartment floor has little knots in the designing of the boards, trying to fake wood grain, knolls where if it were a tree — and if it were ever real — may have held a nest once. Ian has thought about that before, the potential creatures that could have called their cabinets or their floors home, has imagined it when he’s tired or high, always intrigued by the pattern and the choice to try to give the linoleum a life it never actually had.

That’s imagination. Ian can tell when he’s imagining things. Has a very active imagination — very helpful during sex — and it’s especially ramped up when he’s high.

This is different.

Inside one of the knolls this morning there is something blooming. Lush green and yellow moss spills out of the floor and sways in a breeze that doesn’t exist. A night sky exudes from it, a dark purple mist that floats just inches above the ground, thinking with impossibly tiny stars. The starts of blue flowers are budding in the darkness of the wood grain, the petals a pale blue that Ian decides are the start of stargazer lilies.

It’s beautiful. It’s mystic and wonderful and if he were a child he’d believe he was about to be chosen for some great adventure. If this were a storybook, he’d be Lucy in the coat closet on her way to Narnia. Except he is not a child, this is not something he’s imagining. If he reaches down, he could touch the moss and confirm it to his own senses, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s lucid enough to know this is not real. Worse than a mirage, this is a hallucination. It makes Ian sad, distantly, that something so pretty is such a warning sign. Not that unlike how venomous snakes are vivid in color, or how poisonous flowers try to draw the eye.

Mickey walks by him, headed for coffee, another solid reason this isn’t real. Mickey would notice something like this. Instead he asks, “Hey. Whatcha staring at?”

This is beautiful, and Ian’s the only one who can see it, and that in and of itself is the problem.

“Just thinking,” Ian lies. It’s not meant to be a permanent lie. He just doesn’t want to lose the sight of something like this so quickly.

Shuffling footsteps, the sound of poured coffee. The misty galaxy above the ground swirls up, mimicking the twister that’s surely in Mickey’s coffee cup. Then the strong scent of coffee is filling his nose, and Mickey is right next to him, holding a cup for him.

“Ian,” Mickey starts, already in that firm tone of hey, do not bullshit me, which Ian doesn’t mean to, he swears. “What are you staring at?”

“Can you get me my meds?” Ian asks, not taking his eyes off the little world in the floor. “I haven’t taken ‘em yet this morning.”

Time, which already stretches and shrinks like a weak rubber band in the dark morning anyway, is particularly hard to track when Ian’s off like this, because he swears it’s two seconds before Mickey’s back and shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. When Ian obediently chews — because he is listening Mick, okay, he swears — Mickey also holds up his pills and water.

“Would you look at me for a second?” Mickey’s voice is no longer in the firm tone, but is a little wary, and a little small, and Ian picks up his head immediately.

Ian smiles at him. Gulps down his pills, wraps an arm around Mickey, and with his water wet mouth he kisses Mickey right on his temple. “Mornin’”

Mickey smiles back, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “Where’ve you been this morning?”

Ian looks down. The little greenery is still on the floor. Meds don’t work that fast.

“Sometimes… sometimes I hate that I have to take my meds.” That sentiment has every alarm in Mickey’s body ringing, Ian knows, so he grabs him tight to assure him. “Not like that. It’s just — sometimes, what I see is nice. It’s actually nice and good a thing I get to have that no one else gets to see. But I have to stop it, because — because it’s not right.” Ian blinks, looks around, and Mickey hands him his coffee. Ian hugs him tight again. “Am I making any sense?”

Mickey considers. Nods, though it’s not all that confident, but he understands well enough. “What have you been looking at?”

Ian grimaces. “Not sure it’s your kind of thing. But it was nice.”

“C’mon. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to worry you.”

“Not worried.” Mickey puts his hand in Ian’s hair. “Want to hear it. Not just the bad shit, though you know I want hear that, too. But just, if it’s nice, then I want to know that stuff, too.”

Ian hums. Takes a sip of his coffee.

Then he decides, why not? Of all the stuff they’ve had to hear from each other and their families over the year, this is hardly the thing that’s going to send Mickey running.

Ian looks down and starts to detail it. Gets really specific, because if Mickey wants to know, then Ian’s going to try to help him see it too. It must take some time, because Mickey hops up on the back of their couch and is almost done with his cup by the time Ian’s finished. Ian’s own cup is a little cold and could use about twenty seconds in the microwave.

He looks at Mickey, and isn’t sure what he’s going to find. Finds himself grinning when he sees the fond smile that’s on Mick’s face.

“So, yeah. That’s all.”

“Sounds nice, Red.”

“Yeah.”

Ian isn’t sure what to say anymore. Is weirdly embarrassed to be so enthralled by something like this. Something that is not even real. Mick’s probably able to tell that Ian’s squeamish about it, because he doesn’t say anything more. Simply drops off the back of the couch and walks up to him. Pats his cheek.

“Let’s get ready to go, eh?”

_____

It’s not until a few days later that it’s brought up again, and it’s not even direct. A journal that Ian was given by a counselor maybe a year ago that was meant for him to get into journaling and he never could, is set out on the nightstand.

“Where’d you find this?” Ian asks.

There’s a moment where he thinks Mickey is going to act like he wasn’t the one who pulled it out. However, there’s only two of ‘em in this place, so it had to be, so he gives it up before he even begins.

“Thought you could write the nice shit down,” he says, trying to sound casual, but Ian knows how much he’s been turning this over in his head. “Or whatever you want. But that way it doesn’t totally go away. Since, y’know, you don’t like that you have to lose that kind of thing.” Mickey shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but Ian’s eyes are bugging out of his head. “Know Franny would love hearin’ about what you see. Debbie says she can’t read the kid enough fairytales.”

Ian blinks at him. His heart aches in a soft way, over ripened fruit, overwhelmed by sweetness.

He walks over to Mickey with his arms open. “C’mere.”

“Oh, don't go gettin' all doe-eyed—”

“Hug me, asshole.”

Mickey scoffs, wraps one arm around him, but when Ian drapes himself all over him, Mickey laughs and wraps both arms around him. Ian nuzzles into his neck. “Thanks for watchin’ out for me,” he mumbles.

Mickey’s hand buries into Ian’s hair, and Ian sighs. “‘Course. You’re my husband.”

#ficlet #my ficlet #gallavich #shameless (us)#ian gallagher/mickey milkovich #hallucinations #bipolar disorder #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #domestic bitches

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pursuitseternal · 5 months

Text

“Recalling:” update to ETL Astarion x Tav(OC) in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x F!OC | E | 3.5K Dark Tragic Backstory

Summary: dawn before battle, Cordehlia ponders her past, recalling the monster she was… reassured by her companions that even monsters need someone to lead them, accept them, and in Astarion’s case, lust for her…

Dawn, Goblin Camp raid, Rescuing Halsin, Unaliving the Goblin leaders

CW: Violence, bloodshed, blood kink(umm vampire), trauma bonding with Karach and Astarion, Dark

Backstory for our F!OC, massive amounts of flirtation with the Vampire, effective use of the Tadpole as a way of communicating said Dark Backstory with everyone, NPC character death…

Previous chapter | ao3 link | Astarion Masterlist

Chapter 5: Recalling

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

Dawn kissed the woods, the soft light breaking, making the Emerald Glade really, truly verdant. Aptly named, Cordehlia thought to herself, sitting atop the knoll. She looked down into the sun. It had been decades since she had last stared into the sun, the dawn before battle.

But old habits die hard, as she knew. And a hundred years of shedding blood became more than muscle memory for her. A hundred years of the same pleading before her blade tasted flesh, begging for forgiveness, begging for mercy from the lives that would be taken today.

Pleading that when she falls to the slow embrace of death, that her judgment would be swift and just.

She could hear the rustling of her band awakening with the light. Strange, she pondered, musing how they all trusted her unendingly. Recalling all that she had done. Recalling all she had been. Foul and dark.

If they knew who walked among them… even the mortals, so young compared to her and the longevity of her sins… surely even they had heard tales…

Cordehlia took a deep breath, her mind turning quickly from those memories of battle. She tried to bury herself in that feeling of him…

That kiss, Gods had it felt good. Unchanged by the erosion of time, his fervor, his devotion. The pure flame that was Astarion’s soul, bright as the stars he was named for.

She could taste him, not as the vampire he became, but as… the one whose soul she had loved. It was magical, as if time itself stood still, being consumed by him, feeling his remembrance, the way his body transported her two-hundred years. It was… eerily the same. His hands… his taste… the little tangles of his tongue between her lips.

She closed her eyes. Gods, if she could give anything to reclaim that feeling, of being thrown back before… before all this darkness and blood. For both of them. Recalling what was once good about her…

Footsteps drawing up the hill made her almost leap from her skin, her fingers patting her cheeks, as if she could hide the blush that thinking of him called to her face. She didn’t want him to see her lusting after him so badly. Not yet, even though she suspected he would be more than pleased… perhaps pleasured even.

Gods, she swallowed at the thought.

Clearing her throat, she turned to smile at the uninvited company, but it wasn’t a handsome pale face leering down at her.

Karlach grinned, sparking brighter than the dawn. Her unabashedly joyful smile made her stomach sicken. “Seems I’m not the only soldier that needs a moment before battle, eh?”

“Seems that way,” she forced a smile, her hand patting the ground beside her a split second before Karlach helped herself to the company.

“You know, Cordehlia,” she spoke, drawing her knees into her chest. “I can see the way you love and hate the battle. Something you’re good at, maybe too good. But not something you chose for yourself, isn’t that it?”

“How…” the She-elf turned, every nerve in her body on fire to defend.

But Karlach just laughed quietly. “Because it’s a mirror to myself. I didn’t choose to become… what I am… Advocatus Diaboli, as Wyll was so quick to label me.”

She swallowed, voice still steady, even as Cordehlia could feel the pain flowing from her Tiefling companion. “I was also taken, not unlike your vampire boyfriend.”

Cordehlia groaned, but let the insinuation pass.

With a breath, she continued. “I was robbed of a future, imprisoned, experimented on… made into the person I am through no choice of my own.” Then, she turned those glowing eyes on the elf beside her. “But that doesn’t make me anything less than what I am. It doesn’t change my freedom now, you know, same as Astarion,” she nodded her head somberly, “same as you.”

Cordehlia scoffed. “I’m not free, however.”

The pain in her voice even pierced her own heart.

“I was never forced into being the dark thing I was… and I didn’t choose to stop being the creature I had become. I was forced to stop. I… I loved it. I lived for it, when I was in the deepest throes of that life. It was… thrilling. Addicting.” She breathed, bunching her own knees into her chest, same as her friend. “But I was brought before the High Council, deemed too dark for my own kind. I was forced to retire, to live peaceably alone. To atone for my sins and darkness…” She looked into Karach’s worried face. “You wonder why I’m not quick to condemn anyone as a monster? It’s because I would be their queen. I can’t condemn those who are less monstrous than I.”

Karlach said nothing, watching as Cordehlia turned her face into the light again. Watching those silver eyes flutter shut, her chest shaking with breaths as she struggled to continue. “They even told stories about me, to scare the young ones into submission, all along the Sword Coast, they still tell the fables about… what I was…”

A hot hand rested on the top of her knee. “If it helps, it is what you once was…” she grimaced, “once were.” She laughed at the correction. “And we monsters are glad for your company, your leadership, Cordehlia.”

The elf met her gaze then, as the tiefling’s hand slipped away. Her chin shook, eyes wet with unshed tears. Karlach just gave her a gentle, reassuring smile, “Hey, soldier, if anyone knows what it’s like to put yourself back together after being made a war machine, it’s me, okay?”

“Thank you,” she managed to reply.

“Now,” Karlach stood and smiled. “I’ve got your back, and you still got your soul, you hear me?” She waited for a teary breath and a nod. “Let’s go get a Druid who can get these things out of our brains and take out some Goblins, eh?”

Cordehlia managed a laugh, rising to her feet as well, hiding the sniffle she made as they walked back down to camp.

But her heart rapt harshly in her ribs to see the first face that sought her out as she made it back.

Astarion grinned his greeting, flashing those beautiful, terrifying fangs at her. “Morning, my sweet,” he bid, so happily. “I don’t know about you, but I had some of the most… delicious dreams…” That genteel grin twisted, desirous and bright. “Let’s just say there was a lot of pale skin, soft breasts and bright red hair everywhere I wanted it to be…”

Her stomach lurched. The rush of emotions from grief to lust, from self-loathing to desire… She placed a hand on her belly, her insides heaving at the all-too-rapid shift of her heart.

His eyes narrowed, scanning her blanching face before following the wake of the Tiefling. “What’s the matter?” he queried, harsh in tone. “Did Karlach do something to you?”

“No,” she took a breath, waiting for her body to return to her. “I’m fine.”

“You look it, darling.” He chuckled sarcastically, “Fine, I mean.”

“What? Not delicious?” she threw the taunt back. Her head clearing, her muscles easing.

“Always,” he growled, that sultry smirk instantly replacing any trace of concern. “For a moment I was worried that the idea of us fucking made your stomach sour,” he continued.

She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Once, it would have, you know,” she chimed, letting the barb catch him off guard.

He gasped in feigned injury, “Darling, I would be wounded,” he drew himself closer to her body, that slow, stealthy creep that made her shiver, “if it weren’t for the resounding past-tense of what you say…”

The implication hung in the air between them, in whatever minimal distance did remain between their bodies. And Codehlia let it, grinning, mouth twitching to think that it wasn’t inaccurate, his reading.

But she drew back a step. “You do know it’s morning, dawn before battle? We have much to accomplish before anyone can even dream of such delightful pursuits.”

“Yes yes,” Astarion flicked his wrist before tapping both hands on the sheathed daggers at his waist. “Infiltrate the nasty little Goblins, get the Druid, get these worms out of our heads…”

“Precisely,” she began to turn, but his cold, iron grip caught her hand from her side, pulling her after him, commandingly leading her back into his tent.

“I need to tell you,” he spoke quickly, quietly, once the flap fell behind her. “I’m not too fond of the idea of a Druid joining our ranks,” he grimaced. “They are loud and hot-blooded, and so… earthy.” His eyes skimmed over her body. “And they will be eager to mate with anything and everything they set eyes upon…”

“Jealous?” she grinned, folding her arms across her chest, an amused smile teasing her lips.

“Of course,” he replied coolly, eyes narrowing to that half-lidded stare that seemed to pierce right through the clothing she wore. “After all, I am just beginning to remember who I was… what we were… I would hate for some lusty wildform to waltz in here and ruin things.”

“Funny,” she continued to taunt. “You didn’t seem too worried about a human warlock the other night.”

“Please,” he shook his head, all wry-humored and sultry. “As if…” he gagged, “Wyll,” he spat the name in disgust, “could compare to my levels of charm and good looks.” He took a breath, his face softening in a seconds, crimson eyes wide as he looked down on her. “Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to tell you. I wanted to, to thank you for all our little understanding…”

Her brows furrowed. “Of letting you feed?”

“Yes, naturally,” he nodded. Sincere in every outward way. “You were my first you know…”

Her lips pressed firmly at his words, almost imperceptible, but he took note of the reaction. A little further hint to their past, perhaps, that he stashed away.

“You are my first living blood, first thinking blood. Drinking from one such as you was forbidden me. I was made to live on rats, mice, foul vermin, or starved until I was nearly too weak to be good for anything. That was my… reward… for the victims I would lure back for Cazador.” He spat the name. “A moldering rat as a treat for my obedience.” He huffed a disparaging laugh, scanning her questioning gaze. “I can see your thoughts, darling, why not just try to feed on my own? Well, as if I could disobey his command not to even try to sample something else.”

He looked so forlorn. As if even the words he shared couldn’t possibly describe what it was he endured. Suffered.

Unphased, he continued, “That’s the thing about vampire spawn, you know, they are compelled to obey, forced in their bodies to do… whatever is ordered of them.”

A moment passed between them before he looked up. Her eyes were soft, her face rife with concern. He was glad of it.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “For telling me.”

“I only wanted you to know my plight before we add another rutting male to our midst,” he crooned with a sneer. “I depend on you, you know, darling….”

Cordehlia gave a little hum, patting the chilled cheek of her rogue. “If you wanted to make certain I value you, Astarion, you don’t need to go to such lengths to convince me, you know.” She smiled, “A simple, please allow me to keep feeding on you, would suffice. Though your way with words is so skilled and eloquent.” Her brows raised as he began to smile too, “Even more than I recall.”

“Two hundred years of living on nothing but your wits and good looks makes you learn all things new,” he taunted in reply. Even as his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Is that why you pulled me in here alone, Astarion?” she pressed.

“Well…” he flashed that look again, the one rife with danger that made her belly flutter. “I wanted you to be my first thinking blood, you know… I wanted to know how you tasted.”

That last word sent her stomach fluttering again, her nerves burning.

“I wanted to thank you for such a favor, darling. And after the way you kissed me yesterday…”

“You kissed me, you mean?” she taunted, her face unmoving as she watched him take the barb in perfect stride. Making him smirk all the wider. All the hungrier.

“Regardless, you seemed to… enjoy it too. It just gave me ideas… of ways to thank you properly, you know.”

“Oh,” she grinned, innocent and bouncing on her toes. “You mean like fighting in battle today? Being a critical part of our party? Keeping me from losing all control on the battlefield?”

“And why would I do that?” he purred, letting his fingers stroke up the sheathed blade that hung at her side. “You are most attractive in battle from what I have seen. Magnificent, intelligent. Do not deny yourself that chance to shine, darling.” He leaned closer until his breath passed between her panting lips. “And besides, I’m certainly hoping that bloodlust from today becomes plain, old, carnal lust by nightfall.”

Her face is hardened, a distant fire behind her eyes. Her breathing is so faint, he had to lean in close to even hear it. “Take care, Ancunín,” she hissed. “You have yet to see the real monster that lurks beneath me in battle.”

“I hope she’s fearsome to behold,” he grinned, letting his hand wander up from her weapon, grazing her hip to tug her just that bit closer, to pull her against his body. “I’m sure she is nothing to be ashamed of, as one monster to another.”

She shivered under his touch. “You are not one, not compared to me.”

“Well, as you have said to me, darling, when you’re ready, I’ll listen. I’m all pointy ears, love.”

That made her huff a laugh, a slight smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

Nothing could come from her mouth. No words. No amount of gratitude, of awe for the way he didn’t push or recoil. His hand just pressed into her lower back, his lips waiting to see what she would do.

Hells take it if she didn’t give him a little sign of her thanks. She raised on her toes, pressing her lips to his.

Almost surprised, he accepted it, her quick little peck, letting her step away, out of the shadows of his tent.

—————

The goblin camp stank, just as they all had, Cordehlia wrinkled her nose.

At least, the Druid was freed. But victory was far from near. Halsin brimmed with gratitude, even as Astarion failed to hide his eyes rolls. “Funny way of showing thankfulness, giving us another mission,” he grumbled as they left the Druid behind. Three Goblin leaders to dispatch would be no meager task.

Cordehlia shushed him, but he only continued to hiss his complaints as they crept deeper into the camp. “I’ll try not to think of it as helping, mind you, just gaining some other opportunities to dispatch more of these Goblin trash…”

“How altruistic of you,” Gale let the sarcasm fly in reply.

Astarion turned that insincere smirk at the Wizard. “You all keep using that word to describe my choices. I’m beginning to think you’re the ones who don’t know its meaning….”

“Hush,” Cordehlia rounded on the pair of them, only making Kalrach snigger as well. “We must be cautious, these are no dumb Goblins. They think us True Souls. It will take cunning, especially against Drow warrior Minthara…”

As if on command, the entryway opened to a greet chamber, the dark skinned, ruthless Drow bellowing orders at the other end.

Her sharp gaze glanced quickly. Her smile sickeningly twisted. “Speak, are you here to join the battle?”

Cordehlia stepped with all the confidence centuries of bloodshed could give her. “Hail, True Soul,” the She-elf nodded her head. “We are sent to aid in the ravaging of the Grove.”

“Prove it,” Minthara snipped, her hand drawing her blade. “You are not Goblin nor Drow, and as such, I have no qualms with spilling your guts on the ground for fodder.”

“Very well,” Cordehlia replied, more exacting in her voice than even her foe.

She raised her hand, calling upon the worm…

The ground ran red. Blood. Elven and wizard and alien, it smelled delicious. Her feet squelched in it, the lives of her enemies drained by her hand. She resheathed her dagger, bright metal, etched with a signet near the tang.

A Raven, a black bird in a dive.

She began to brush the blood from her coal-black armor. The pattern of feathers collecting the crimson running down her body.

Cordehlia took a deep breath, looking at her field of glory one more time. For her people. For herself.

Everyone gasped as they returned to the caves, their consciousness all stunned as her band looked at Cordehlia, up and down. Their minds all linked by the worm, her vision in their heads too. The recalling of her past, dark and bloodied, as it broke upon them all.

“My my,” Minthara crooned, impressed as she resheathed her blade. “I know of that blade, that chilling reputation. The Absolute surely knows how to choose souls for her service. It has been ages since you have been seen, isn’t that right?”

“Half a century, by the reckoning of my people,” she replied, her tone distant. Harsh. “They would like to think I’m dead. Forgotten.”

“That will not be your fate with the Absolute, and not with me, my Lady Corvus,” Minthara bowed. Low, bending at the waist.

She could hear the way her band’s breath froze. But she couldn’t reply. Not yet. “My company of True Souls needs a moment of respite, if you will give it to us. Those damned Druids depleted our resources, but we know where they are. My scout will give you the location once we tend to our needs, Lady Minthara.”

“Of course,” smiled the Drow, dismissing them with a wave.

She held her head high, marching them down to the corner of the cavern. Of course, it was Gale who stared Cordehlia square in the eyes once they were alone. “The Lady Corvus, Bone Picker, most intelligent elven warrior of her kind, so ruthless in battle, every bone of her enemies was left bare.”

She shook her head. “You see now,” she sighed. Mouth twitching. Eyes cold. “You all pale in comparison to me, no one can match my monstrosity.”

“Ahem,” Astarion cleared his voice right beside her. “First of all, you say pale and monstrosity like they’re bad things….”

“Astarion!” Gale snipped to interrupt, but the Pale Elf just held up his hand to silence him.

“You don’t know half the things I’ve done… that perhaps any of us have done. And yet you don’t turn us away,” he continued. His voice was smooth, gentle, not dripping in seduction, but wrapped in comfort. “We won’t turn from you either, you know, whether you are Lady Corvus, or just Cordehlia.”

“That’s right, soldier,” Karlach was the first to pat her on the shoulder. Rough and steady. “Why, I’ve severed more heads than I’ve kissed faces.”

“I’ve damned a thousand souls for Cazador’s meals,” Astarion added, a smile on his face. “Bet I’ve done worse than you, Lady Corvus…”

“You wish to compare body count?” she gave a single, dark laugh.

“Well, we know whose hands are bloodier now at any rate,” he quipped.

“You mean face, I believe,” Karlach pointed as she guffawed.

“Shhh,” Cordehlia suddenly held up her hands. “We are supposed to be evil. Not some silly band of youths here to loot and pilfer.”

“Tch,” Astarion smirked. “You’re no fun if we can’t do that…”

Minthara did stride over, frowning at the sound laughter and merriment. “Well, it is curious to see such mirth in the warriors of Lady Corvus,” she hissed. “I’m surprised, given the tales of your deeds, your bloodshed.” Her thin lips quirked. “Have the decades of seclusion softened you? Does the Absolute know of your…”

Her breath left her body. The quick work of Cordehlia’s dagger shoved between her ribs. “The Absolute can rot, and so can these brainworms,” she hissed into Minthara’s dark, pointed ear.

Cordehlia’s eyes looked into the Drow’s, watching the light fade from them, a dark smile on her lips. Then, those silver eyes flashed at the rest of her party. “Get them,” she ordered, a nod of her head at the rest of the Goblin hoard.

Gale and Karlach snuck off, the wizard’s hands glowing already, the Tiefling’s ax ringing in her hand as she swung if off her back. But it was Astarion who lingered and grinned at her, watching as she dropped the body of their enemy at her feet. “With pleasure,” he purred, snatching her bloodied dagger in his hand. The Drow’s blood dripping down the bright blade, the etching of the Raven near the hilt darkened red.

He licked her blade clean, his eyes locked into hers, watching her chest heaving, her eyes hazy as she watched every little flick his pink tongue made along her weapon before he handed it back.

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mask-of-prime · 9 months

Text

VG: Controlled Burn

Many years ago, during Mufasa and Scar's respective reigns... Vague pictures were coming back. There was a slash across the face, a crash, a loud snap. Times changed. The cackling of hundreds of hyenas as they took more than their share of kill. Separated from his family. That dark era under an irresponsible lion's rule had changed the mind of the ungulate forever... ____

Present day, one quiet morning... At Ndefu Grove, a certain fierce lioness stood atop a knoll as she conversed with her brother's summoned spirit. She summoned him not for advice from him, but an important lesson for both of them. Something she recently came around to learning.

Vitani looked on at the hazy air that continued to creep up the trees. Not a single galago in sight, as they'd evacuated from the inhospitable air quality.

"I think I see what you meant about being careful about the Roar, Nuka."

The fire-ghost surveyed the area along with his living sister. He saw the damage done to Ndefu Grove. Not all of it was ash, but the burned area still stuck out, telling a story.

"But... I don't think I need to be careful for the reason you think. I had to defend myself. Kiume was a threat."

"But, you still --"

"The Lions of the Past aren't displeased with me for using the Roar on another lion. I get that we're biased about our own kind, Nuka, I really do. But I learned, here, that the other animals matter just as much..."

Nuka looked skyward in deep thought. He must have misunderstood the voices of the past. They never really did tell him what exactly Vitani did wrong with the Roar, he just filled it in with whatever made the most sense.

"I need to approach things with more thought. I can't keep relying on the Fire Roar." she looked up at him, "No offense."

The spirit listened to an influx of whispers. He eventually looked down at Vitani, and smiled.

"None taken. You're really growing, Vitani. Those lion heads up there really like that."

Vitani softly smiled back, it vanished as her ears picked up on a voice that called to her from a distance.

"Think our time's up." Nuka rose, "Till ya need me again!"

POOF!

"Vitani!" the dark lion bounded through the knolls.

"...Kovu?" Vitani turned around, "What is it?"

When Kovu arrived, he had just missed Vitani talking to Nuka. One brother came so close to meeting the other for the first time in well over a year...

"Prey takeover at Pride Rock..." he panted, "Lion Guard trapped... Rogues are back..."

"The prey animals and the Rogue Trio?"

Vitani looked grim. No wonder things had gotten so quiet. Less prey animals than usual, no occasional complaints from the Pridelanders, and no recent plots from the Rogue Trio. Until now... They'd all had something to do with each other this whole time, and they chose Kupatana as their big day... ____

Near Pride Rock...

The royal pride had heard the army of herbivores approaching from miles away as hooved animals stomped the ground to sound the drums of war. The lions had spent the time they had bracing for battle, protecting themselves and each other as much as they could before more reinforcements could arrive.

"We're almost there, my bretheren!" shouted Ngurumo, "Sharpen your horns! Ready your hooves! Get your torches!"

The select army of ungulates and all other kinds of loyal followers did as told. Antelopes and buffalos stuck their horns out like spears, equines kicked and stomped their hooves, and other animals capable of holding objects -- including Karani the secretary bird -- ignited their torches.

"What's this, I see? A band of traitors?" Ngurumo chuckled, "Led by some of my favorite animals, of course! The biggest traitors of all; my former friend, my lifelong rival, and the local predator-lover, Ma Tembo! Funny, how all the enemies in my life have come together to conspire against me!"

"My friend, this senseless violence must stop." Nyumbu bleated.

"We're not friends anymore, you frail geezer!" the rhino smacked the elderly wildebeest away.

The elephant matriarch stepped in front of the antelope to protect him.

"Your extremist ways are unnaceptable!" she held up her trunk, "You are hurting your brothers and sisters in the Circle of Life on the day of Kupatana!"

Ngurumo smiled disgustingly, "You know, Ma Tembo, I almost considered you as a more fit leader of the Pridelands -- until you brought that stupid, woke lion-and-elephant-reenactment play back to Mizimu Grove!"

"It's called. The Ukumbusho." the matriarch's voice grew deep and firm, "It's a generations-long tradition, and if you know where us elephants' traditions come from, it's from impeccable memory of every moment of our lives since we arrived in this world. The elephants were there, that fateful day, when Askari's Lion Guard made peace with us all."

Zito spoke up, "Don't you remember what happened a few months ago? The Lion Guard ruined this year's Ukumbusho! Lions have no respect for our tradition!"

"Wow..." Ngurumo gawked, "Of course Zira's old faction of lions would do something like that! You're a real poor judge of character, telling me about that 'Circle of Life', which I'm sure is made up by these lions! So, don't you, of all animals, tell me what I can't do on a holiday!"

He then pointed to his blinded eye and broken horn, "Is this what you call the Circle of Life?! I've told everyone time and time again how predators ruined my face!"

"You got that from me."

Everyone gasped. Ngurumo swiftly turned to the voice. He saw Mbeya wearing an uncharacteristic glare.

"Don't you remember? Our faceoff at the Tamasha? You challenged me for leadership over the crash." Mbeya then chuckled and hooted, "...and boy, did you bring a whole new meaning to 'crash'! Heh-heh... I was so agile in my day, and my eyesight was pretty good for a rhino, too! Hoh, you smacked right into a big tree after I cut your eye!"

Several confused herd animals echanged looks. Ngurumo turned red with rage and humiliation, but he quickly simmered down and regained his composure. His face returned to a pale grey as a konniving smile formed. He eased the crowd with deceitful charisma.

"Now, we have this old fart spreading lies about me." the scarred rhino chuckled, "Typical of a predator-lover to be so willing to twist the words of a pure herbivore to silence the truth. I'm surprised none of you have been eaten, yet."

His calm demeanor switched back to zealous rage.

"If you want to die for your lion friends, then, so be it! Let's see how well you fight in fire!" he rose his hoof, "NOW!"

The animals wielding torches dropped said burning sticks onto the dry ground, setting it ablaze.

"CHAAARRRGE!" Whinnies, bleats, and the trumpeting of elephant trunks filled the sky.

The coup had officially begun, and the royal pride had nowhere to safely escape it. ____

Kovu led his sister to where the rest of the Guard members were. Vitani had to reunite with them to overpower the Rogues with their combined strength.

Happening upon where the other members had been, the siblings took on fighting stances. Kovu was ready to tear them apart for terrorizing the Pridelands and for personally threatening Kiara and her family, meanwhile, Vitani just wanted to tear them apart because she hated everything about them the moment she'd first seen them.

Speaking of which, Vitani almost didn't recognize Kiume. His mane -- something he'd taken much manly pride in -- had been completely singed off my Vitani's last attack. All that was left was fuzzy hairs that were burnt and melted at the tips. The short hair on his neck almost looked like Vitani's very own, in a way.

Stopping in her tracks, Vitani's paws skidded across the dirt, creating a cloud of dust. The Lion Guard turned to the sound.

"Guys!" the Fiercest called to them, "They're working with Ngurumo!"

Kasi gasped, "What?"

"They're here as a distraction! Ngurumo is leading a coup to Pride Rock right now!

"Well, this 'distraction' will be the only level you reach before you get to them, little girl." Kiume spoke up, ready to pounce.

Vitani stared daggers into Kiume. Her tail twitched.

"Kovu, get back." she said, not even glancing behind her.

The dark lion did as told. Vitani really didn't feel like risking abusing the Roar, but she took a deep breath, anyway. Locked and loaded.

WOOOOOOOO! The ground shook all around the lions. The Rogues in particular had collapsed, holding their heads and groaning.

Vitani blinked. She, along with Kovu and the Guard, slowly glanced way up at the source of the noise. Lo and behold, it was Kelele, standing atop the rock formation. After a moment of awkward silence, the wolf shrugged.

"Well, they were bothering me too." she said, recalling her own misogyny and unwanted verbal harassment she'd faced sharing the lands with these same rogues.

Kasi smiled at Kelele. She was astounded to find that she really could trust Kelele and find an ally in her. Vitani caught the Fastest's smile, and the two lions exchanged looks.

"There's something you haven't told me, isn't there?" Vitani arched a brow. She wasn't at all angry, just somewhat amused.

Before Kasi could think to respond, Kelele leapt down from the rock.

"Vitani, please... I'm not a threat to the Pridelands. I just wanted to meet the Roar-Wielder, and learn everything I could about you, so I've observed from afar. That's why I stayed in these lands. Because I knew our journey wasn't over, yet. I'm an ally..."

The Fiercest glanced back. The rogues were still down, disoriented and perplexed by the strange power they'd encountered in that moment. The lioness then approached the wolf closer.

"Alright, Kelele, if you're really the ally you claim to be," a smile creeped up Vitani's face, "then I need you to do this one thing for us..."

With a flick of an ear from Vitani, a command universally understood by all former Outsiders since Zira's leadership, the two biggest brutes of the Lion Guard, Imara and Shabaha, obeyed the order and approached the Ethiopian Wolf.

Moments Later... "ARE YOU LIONS CRAZY?! PUT ME DOWN!" Kelele screamed.

"That wouldn't be a very good idea." Vitani deadpanned.

Kelele was being dangled over a Lake Matope full of crocodiles, held by the scruff by Imara's jaws. She was getting what was hers after her attempt to kidnap and alternatively threaten the life of a certain wild dog pup.

"I REALLY AM YOUR ALLY! I'M SORRY ABOUT SAUTI! THAT 'SIKIO'-THING WAS JUST A MYTH! JUST ASK THAT OLD MONKEY! PLEASE!" the wolf screamed, legs kicking.

Imara lowered Kelele closer to the water. Eager reptilian eyes watched her every move. Some couldn't wait any longer, and gave a few threatening snaps of their jaws at her. That sadistic Bravest Lion Guard member's cackles added to the terrifying symphony.

The wolf curled her lower body up as much as she could, tail tucked between her legs. She made a high-pitched whine characteristic of the canine family. What more did these lions want?

"...I forgive ya." Vitani smiled, "Alright, that's a wrap, everyone!"

Kelele blinked, "W-Wait, what --"

The wolf felt herself being gently put down, away from the crocodiles. Speaking of which, she watched Vitani thank the leader, Makuu, for being in on the act.

"I don't understand..." the canine was stunned.

"We were never really gonna kill you." Vitani smiled, "Not our way. Not anymore..."

The Lion Guard chuckled at the dark humor of totally psyching Kelele out. Now, that never left the way of the former Outsiders.

Their brief moment of making light of the situation was interrupted when a heavily-beaten Kiume limped his way behind the Lion Guard's backs.

"Um, excuse me? Don't we have a fight to fini --"

WHACK! With quick reflexes, Kovu knocked Kiume out cold with a backhand. ____

In the meantime, as Ma Tembo's extended herd pushed Ngurumo's army back from raiding Pride Rock, the lions sought refuge in an area of the said landmark that had been unaffected by fire. They were all huddled together.

"Where's Kovu? Shouldn't he be back with the Lion Guard by now?"

Kiara was not easily prone to panicking, but Kovu was the love of her life, and the two were practically inseparable since their engagement.

"I'm sure he's okay, sweetie..." Nala gently headbutted her daughter, "They'll make it."

"How are they gonna get through the firewall?!" Tiifu cried, equally anxious.

"Shhh, they'll find a way..." Nala brought Tiifu close.

SNAP!

A burning tree trunk fell in front of them. They had no time to wait for the Lion Guard any longer. They had to move.

"We've got to find a way out of here!" Simba used a commanding voice, "We can put as much fire out as we can, ourselves! Come on!"

With feline agility, the pride dodged burning objects as they prepared to swipe moist dirt over the fire.

Just then, Kovu and the Lion Guard made it to Pride Rock. They were devastated to see the lands glowing hot with fire.

Vitani's eyes followed the height of the smoke clouds until she could see daylight peeking through. There, she saw a lone, white cloud.

Suddenly... a voice she heard from the past echoed in her mind...

"You see that little cloud? Try roaring at it..."

Vitani's predecessor, Kion, did as told, and he'd turned the innocent, small cloud into a large, thundering raincloud. It had been the first time she'd seen the Roar up close. She'd herd it many times from a distance from her termite mound home far back of the Outlands. But, now, she knew what it was. However, the discovery of this power, and her mother's knowledge of what it was capable of, had raised many questions from the young lioness for years to come...

Vitani was not going to fight fire with fire. She would not blindly charge head-first into battle like that of Ngurumo, but instead show that she and the other predators were capable of civil negotiation. Her eyes gleamed as she felt power rise within her...

In the midst of the calamity of the battling herd animals, Ngurumo spotted the royals making their getaway. The rhino crouched low and slowly approached, grinning wide as his plan to attack formed in his head. He felt the hunted becoming the hunter, and the hunter becoming the hunted. He chuckled. Such an ironic twist...

ROOOOAAAAARRR!! Everyone turned to the loud cry of the Leader of the Lion Guard. Above them was a growing, darkening cloud that poured rain over the selected area. The firewall had been extinguished, allowing the Guard's entry into the battlegrounds.

As Ngurumo was distracted in his astoundment over Vitani's newly-discovered power, the pride cornered by the rhino slipped away, with Kovu reuniting with Kiara.

The rhino watched Vitani emerge from the smoke. A furious glare from under her drooping, wet tuft.

"Ah, Vitani. What a surprise." Ngurumo looked around, "Are you here to attack me and claim more land as yours, as lions do?"

“No. No we’re not. We’re just here to repair a strained relationship between us Pridelanders,” Vitani smiled, “As lions do.”

“LIES!” Ngurumo roared, “You just wanna keep these lands under a dictatorship! All of you lions are born evil, none of you deserve ANY place to live in this world!”

The rhino shoved Vitani hoof-to-chest with full force. Her Guard quickly gathered around her and prepared to fight, if things needed to get that way.

The rhino chuckled, "How quick to react your little friends are. If it's not about your tyranny you're known for, you lions are also known for following every little order someone gives you, even if it doesn't benefit you in the end..."

"I KNEW IT!"

Everyone turned to the voice and gasped. It was Kiume. He and the rest of the Rogue Trio caught up with the Lion Guard after following their trail.

"Your plans were never really about us getting the Pridelands to ourselves, were they? For a long time, I had a hunch it wasn't about us anymore. I was right!" the maneless lion growled, "and now we all know why..."

The crowd of herd animals muttered amongst themselves, shocked beyond belief.

Prodded with piercing questions from his fellow herbivore followers, Ngurumo became overwhelmed.

"No... T-That lion doesn't know what he's talking about!" he sputtered, "He's crazy! I-I don't know him!"

"How long have you been making deals with them?!" yelled a gazelle buck.

"What else are you keeping from us?!" whinnied a zebra mare.

On cue, as always, Uongo swooped in, and promptly answered the latter question:

"Such easy animals to please. Anything works on them!" sampled the bird, in the rhino's voice.

Appalled cries filled the savannah.

"NO! He totally took that out of context! He's cherrypicking what I said!" Ngurumo stomped a hoof.

"Well, how long has he been doing that?!" sneered Zito.

Furious cries escaped the herbivores' mouths. They wondered how much information from this rhino had been skewed from reality for the sake of his own personal gain.

"Excuse me..."

Everyone went quiet as they turned to Thurston, one of many indoctrinated ungulates.

"Since tickbirds eat bugs, does that make them predators, too?"

The herbivores yelled more grievances about their tickbirds.

"Wha -- No!" Ngurumo sputtered again, "Ticks aren't animals! They're BUGS!"

"My tickbird cut me all over!" a heavily-scarred buffalo bull cried.

"Mine took milk from my calf!" bleated a springbok doe.

"You ingrates and your COMPLAINTS!" the rhino stomped again, "I saved all these nice tickbirds for you, led a battle for your freedom, and THIS is how you repay me?! You ALL belong to the lions! I hope every last one of you is EATEN by those monsters! Especially YOU, Uongo!"

The crowd backed Ngurumo to the edge of the cliff behind Pride Rock. The once dry ravine he stood on the edge of couldn't hold the rainwater that suddenly filled it.

Helpless, the rhino turned to the remaining lions of the Trio, Mrembo and Jeuri.

"You two! Help me! DO SOMETHING!"

The two lions hesitated, torn on who they felt led by, and if they even needed a leader anymore. They didn't like how Kiume had treated them lately, but now, they felt double-crossed by their bigger boss. They looked at each other before scowling at the rhino. They promptly sent a hollow, burned tree falling towards the direction of Ngurumo's head.

CRASH! The rhino rose to his feet. Everyone gasped.

A branch on the fallen tree had impaled his only usable eye. He was now fully blind.

Taking advantage of the rhino's blindness, an enraged Kiume charged, and pushed the rhino over the cliff. The lion quickly found himself being blocked by none other than his own fellow coalition. The two lions stopped him before he could go anywhere near the Lion Guardas they rushed over to the edge of the cliff.

They could see that the pachyderm had landed in a curved ledge on the cliffside that safely cupped him from falling down the ravine. But time was ticking...

"Ngurumo!" Vitani called.

Ngurumo tried to climb back up, but the motion made him slip back. There was luckily sloped ground under the ledge that he could put his hindlegs on, but his forelegs just barely held him up onto the ledge.

He knew he was teetering on the brink of life and death at that moment.

The rain fell hard. Gambling with the idea of giving Ngurumo one last chance, the Lion Guard rushed to help. The Strongest was the first to reach down, having the best chance at pulling the gargantuan pachyderm up -- eventually with combined strength of the rest of the Guard, of course.

The rhino hollered and roared in distress. He found himself once again at the mercy of the Lion Guard, like how they'd all first met. He was not going to face that humilitation again...

"Ngurumo, take Imara's paw! NOW!" Vitani roared through the pouring rain.

"Why should I trust you? You KILLER!" the rhino blindly swung his hoof in protest, "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"A hoofed animal wouldn't be able to help you with something like this. Predator and prey need each other in the Circle of Life, Ngurumo!" Vitani tried desperately to persuade him.

"NO!! I don't trust a single one of you monsters! ANY of you monsters! Paw or hoof!" he slammed his own hooves down, "'Circle of Life', NOTHIN'! It's just a corrupt belief -- You're all CORRUPTED! ALL OF -- H-Huuhh?!" "NO!" Imara grunted.

The ground that the rhino barely held onto became slick from the rain. That last slam sent him slipping down the soil-turned-mud.

"NOOOOOOO!!!" Landing hard at the bottom of the ravine, the heavy pachyderm had taken mortal damage falling from the great height.

"The Pridelands will fall... no matter what... but it won't be from me..." he croaked as he gave a weak smile, for the last time.

Ngurumo's grinning mug was abruptly masked by the gush of water that overtook the once empty ravine. He would be carried off by the powerful water, his eventual whereabouts ever-changing for the rest of time...

Imara backed away from the ledge, feeling the mud run from under her paws. It didn't take her focus away from how perturbed she was.

"At least he didn't get eaten like he always feared..." Shabaha remarked absentmindedly.

"Yeah..." Vitani's voice trailed, still staring down at the rapidly rushing water.

"Let me help you!" "No... never!" Vitani shut her eyes. Whether the predator-prey civil war be handled with compassion or murderous rampage, Ngurumo needed to die. He was too far gone, and therefore nothing but a threat to the Circle of Life. This wasn't the first time circumstances had to be this exact same way, and the Fiercest knew it too well...

Suddenly, Fukiza the cobra emerged from the crowd from under their hooves. She'd been hiding underground for a majority of the time until the commotion brought her outside. Only until now could she safely track down her friends.

"Lion Guard! Are you okay?" she slithered their direction, slipping between the paws of the Rogues.

Tazama smiled at the sight of her old friend. It was the first time she'd truly seen her with healed eyes. She was such a beautiful monocled cobra. However, the Keenest of Sight wasn't the only one seeing Fukiza for the first time...

"SNAAAAAAKE!" screamed Kiume, "Guys, run! Get it away from me!"

Mrembo and Jeuri didn't budge, instead opting for an exchange of disappointed looks at each other. This was it, this was the tipping point for them. They officially found Kiume to be a pathetic boss all around.

"Wow, I am so glad I'm over that whole cobra superstition." grumbled Vitani as she rolled her eyes. She couldn't be more disappointed in this lion.

Kiume pushed Jeuri and Mrembo away with full force, fueled by fear. However, before the maneless lion could make his escape, he was suddenly subdued by a pair of lance-like horns. Quickly turning the other way, he tried to run through Mrembo and Jeuri again, but they'd once again caught him mid-run.

"HeyheyHEY! What are you DOING?!" he yelled, furious at the sudden mutiny.

"Kiume..." said a voice. It was the King.

The herds of prey animals backed away to make room for their much more respected leader. The antelopes trapping the lions with their horns stood still, making sure said felines were contained.

Simba gave a stern scowl, "As punishment for your repeated attempts to overthrow my pride, you will remain where someone can keep an eye on you..."

Suddenly, the other two lions felt their own shoulders being grabbed by the Lion Guard. All three male lions were under arrest.

"...The same goes for you two." Simba continued, "Unless any of you can prove to me that you are no threat to my family, or the Pridelands, you will be watched closely, and punished harshly."

As the former Rogue Trio was being escorted away by the Guard and the pair of loyal antelopes, Vitani scampered over to Simba's side. She still wasn't quite over the shock of Ngurumo's demise. She had a violent upbringing and a tough nature, but she still couldn't handle death well.

Simba could see the somber fear in Vitani's eyes. He, too, has had to let animals die, particularly for any reason that they presented themselves as a threat to his life or his kingdom. Though, he still couldn't forget how he felt the very first time he did it.

"Vitani, sometimes... it's the best thing you could do in a situation like this." the King then smiled cordially, "You did good. Trust me."

The Fiercest cracked an uncertain smile. She was still very shaken, but greatly appreciated Simba.

Simba wasn't praising his daughter-in-law, but was actually comforting her as much as he could. He made a subtle gesture that commanded her to join the rest of her Guard in keeping the rogues restrained as they arrested them.

The crowd of herd animals muttered amongst themselves, some even bowed to their King and his pride before going their separate ways. Every animal retreated to their assigned place in the Pridelands.

As they all departed from the ravine, the rainclouds continued to break away, revealing a golden sky as the sun was on its way down. ____

Aftermath... Days passed. After a long process of easing leftover doubts from the herds and careful scrutiny of the disbanded Rogue Trio, the Pridelands felt as it once did before -- akin to the time before Vitani's predecessor Kion had left for the Tree of Life.

Some former followers of Ngurumo had been allowed back into divided herds. Some entire herds, such as Thurston's zeal, were quick to reform due to their naivete and tendency to go with the flow. Some solitary animals kept to themselves. They still had leftover beliefs and conspiracies, but they didn't have power like their deceased leader, so they were harmless.

Speaking of solitary animals, Kelele still remained near the Pridelands to further her friendship with the Guard, especially Kasi and Vitani. She would return to her homeland someday, but not until after she was ready.

As for the rogues, all three lions answered honestly as they'd been interrogated by the Lion Guard for several hours. Kiume's interrogation had earned him a lifetime of imprisonment deep in a heavily-guarded part of the Outlands, on account of premeditated attempts to overthrow the royal pride, and that any attempts to escape would be punishable by death -- which would be left at the discretion of the Outlanders, as part of Simba's decree.

Though Mrembo and Jeuri were accomplices in countless incidents with Kiume, they were found to be harmless without the influence of their former leader, Kiume. They chose not to be residents of the Pridelands, as they preferred to take a more nomadic life. Jeuri became a close friend of Tazama, and both aforementioned lions bonded over their similar interests, while Mrembo chilled with whoever was interested in his food snob-related ramblings, as Vitani could see from the hill she perched on.

The Fiercest breathed a deep, fresh breath of air. A huge weight had been taken off her shoulders. She and her Guard worked hard to earn the Pridelanders' trust, and outdid themselves by making a huge impact on everyone; the Pridelanders learned to trust in the former Outsiders to redeem themselves, and the Lion Guard learned that the non-lion animals were much more than they appeared.

Trust and balance had been restored in the Circle of Life... ____

That night... Rain poured heavily over the Pridelands, which carried on for the next few days. The rivers overflowing with rainwater rushed fairly rapidly for themselves. The sudden change of weather and strange behavior of the water had followed the day Vitani had controlled the sky with her Roar. Kion never used the clouds to put out fires, and for good reason. His successor to the Roar would soon find out why, among other things...

____ ((Author's Note: We've reached the Season 2 Finale! From the way I worded it, that's right, Vitani's Guard's adventures are not over yet. Ngurumo may have died, but that's only the beginning of the storm...

Also, it's been exactly one year and one day since I decided to start releasing Vitani's Guard art as a serialized, continuous story, which is why I chose today to release this season finale.

Fun Facts:

Since I've been basing the Rogue Trio off of alpha male dudebros, when trying to think of Kiume's defeat, I had to think of common fates that those influencers are met with. Alpha male influencers are often met with arrests/jail/prison and a subsequent loss of fans, so I decided imprisonment for life followed by a loss of respect from former followers was fitting for Kiume.

Vitani's "I forgive ya" at the Lake Matope hazing scene was a reference to Makuu's very same line during Ono's apology scene in the episode "Let Sleeping Crocs Lie". I'm still very much dying on that hill that Vitani idolizes tf out of Makuu and likes to unknowingly quote him word-for-word at times, like she did with the "Mashindano" line. (Also, though Shabaha's facing yet another situation where someone's being dangled over a float of crocodiles, she's fine, because one, it's not her, and two, this was actually partially her idea lol)

Ngurumo's "they're not animals, they're bugs!" line is total BS, like everything else he says. Bugs are part of the animal kingdom. Bugs are tiny, multiple-legged invertibrates, unlike the more "conventional" animals people think of, but that doesn't make them not animals. Certainly not plants or fungi lol.

After doing some research on differences between black rhinos and white rhinos, I realize now that I've been giving Ngurumo the back shape of a white rhino, and the hooked upper lip of a black rhino, which likely means he's a hybrid of the two. On a semi-relevant note, I noticed Kifaru, the rhino with the poorest eyesight in Mbeya's crash, is modeled after a white rhino, while the rest are modeled after black rhinos. I like to think that Kifaru was a newcomer to Mbeya's crash, blindly wandering there and not noticing they were a completely different species from him.

There was going to be panels depicting a maneless Kiume as well as Kelele fighting alongside Vitani's Guard, but the composition was hard to figure out and there were too many characters. I'll probably draw the maneless Kiume in some other non-story art so you could see what he looks like.

Can't wait to come back to VG and other art with a fresh start! School and possible work may interfere with my activity, just letting everyone know))

#The Lion King #The Lion Guard #Vitani's Guard #TLG #TLK #Vitani #Shabaha #Kasi #Imara #Tazama #Kiara #Kovu #My Art

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rainydaywhump · 4 months

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Reed pt 8 - Forced to Watch (Whumpcember Day 16, Alt 2)

<- Pt. 7 - Pt. 9 ->

Cervine finds that Reed has been captured again, and she's feeling guilt. Aaaaand murder.

In other words: Cervine remembers being made to wait to rescue Reed until the cover of night, during which she had to watch what the enemy soldiers were doing to him.

CWs: male whumpee, degradation, dehumanization, creepy whumpers, multiple whumpers, caretaker fucking kills them, please not that irl medieval-ish combat was not nearly this easy unless you were really good at it, which I've decided Cervine is. Blood, some gore that isn't described much, restraints on whumpee.

I lost him.

I left him alone and defenseless.

I may as well have tossed him over enemy lines myself.

Cervine stared at the hoofprints leading away from their campsite, lips pursed and eyes smarting with anger. She had left for a last-minute forage for some more medicinal plants, and she'd left Reed on his own. After being held captive for two weeks and then being under her constant care and company for nearly another week, she figured he'd want some alone time before the journey home. Seeing as they were in no man's land, she'd thought that no one would stumble across him in the two hours that she was gone.

The shirt he'd been altering was cast aside, needle and thread still nearby. A little more searching and she found his dagger lying in the grass. But none of the items in their shelter had been taken or moved -- meaning whoever had taken him either didn't think to look or didn't even realize that they were there.

Evidently, she'd been wrong. Reed was incredibly strong considering he'd held out against his interrogators. He had been a capable agent before his time in captivity, and he would certainly become one once again, once he was fully recovered. But he wasn't fully recovered yet, and though he was highly intelligent, brave, and strong-willed, those traits wouldn't have been enough against brute strength.

Which meant Reed hadn't told anyone about her.

Which meant she stood a better chance of finding him again.

I lost him. I did this to him.

He suffered so much and he was just starting to heal a little mentally, and I betrayed him.

If he had told his attackers about me, I would've deserved it. I would deserve to be in his place. This was my mistake, not his.

The Laarylni agent knew that she had made another mistake in her mission to rescue the missing allied spy, and that was getting attached to him. She'd actually let herself care about him, not just for him. And she didn't try to resist that anymore, either. Cervine had been on rescue missions before, and she'd always been able to be calm and compartmentalized about it, but this...this was different.

A cold chill ran through her as she considered another aspect of her failure: she had never properly hidden the bodies of Reed's previous captors, the band of semi-autonomous Halyen warriors who had kidnapped him and tortured him relentlessly for two weeks. To be fair, she reasoned, she hadn't had time -- Reed was in desperate need of urgent medical attention, and that took priority. But Cervine had to admit that a large part of her carelessness came from pure emotion.

She closed her eyes and slipped into a memory of the day and night that followed her search for the missing spy.

...

The soldiers were awake and mostly sober when she settled into her hiding spot.

On a slight rise on the knoll, hidden by rocks and scraggly bushes, Cervine hunkered down under the protection of her cloak -- mottled with the colors of the landscape and breaking up her silhouette -- and forced herself to take deep breaths while otherwise staying as still as possible. She needed to make sure that she was calm despite what she was seeing, and she needed to stay perfectly still so as not to attract any attention. As darkness fell, motion would be all the more visible to the soldiers.

She wanted to jump right in and grab Reed, but she had come all this way and she wasn't going to risk mission failure just because she was being forced to watch the torture they put him through.

She watched them pull his hair and tie a thick collar around him, then tighten it until he passed out -- and then they slapped him awake or carved slits into his skin until he came to from the pain. They tied a chain leash to the collar and bound him in a kneeling position by their feet as they ate and he starved. They beat him, and then they patted his head and stroked his thighs and chest after in a sickening show of possession and dehumanization.

She watched as one of the soldiers eyed him up all afternoon and then advanced when the sun fell, rope and knife in hand. Reed, who had been reduced to a limp, bloodied, bruised body at this point, flinched at the sight of him -- and though Reed was too weak and likely too starved to retaliate at all, the soldier took sickening pleasure in calling over his comrades to hold Reed down and twist him into a painful hogtie, gagging him even more for the night.

I'm sorry, she thought, wishing there was some way he could hear her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not saving you now. I can't risk them hurting you or threatening to kill you if we reach a stalemate. I need you out of the way, safe.

Throughout all of this, Reed didn't crack -- and, more strangely, the soldiers only demanded information from him a few times. The rest of their abuse was merely for fun. To Cervine's horror, two of them (including their apparent leader) could even be heard talking about just taking him as a plaything instead of giving him up to more effective interrogators.

When the Harp constellation was high and the insects stopped buzzing for a moment, Cervine made her move.

The soldier on watch duty was first. Reed had made some sort of noise -- a whimper, she thought -- and the guard had made a derisive remark. Cervine shadowed spider-like through the tall grasses until she was poised, crouched on the balls of her feet, just behind the soldier.

She felled him with a simple and silent blow to the neck, nearly severing his vead and stifling his chokes with his own tunic. He may have made a small noise as she stepped over him, but he was far enough from the others that no one heard.

Eleven to go.

With a rush of addictive adrenaline, Cervine advanced and managed to stab two more through the heart before the others woke. They were up in a fury, shouting to each other and grabbing their weapons --

-- and Cervine let them.

She didn't want to kill sitting ducks. She wanted to show them that they deserved their deaths.

"Who the fuck are you?!" One soldier shouted, but Cervine didn't answer. They didn't need to know.

After that, the only sounds she heard were those that were relevant to the fight. Quick as a hawk, Cervine ran one enemy through and pivoted to parry the next, then slice the soldier from her collarbone to her armpit. More came and Cervine dodged, nimbly avoiding killing blows and turning to face them from a new angle, then another, and then another at which point the soldiers were disoriented in the dark and Cervine launched herself at them with cold, vicious pleasure.

Disarm, stun, stab to the torso, slash to the guts. Fresh blood and sickly sweat permeated her nose. Cervine breathed it all in. Parry, dodge, jump, forward, slash -- Cervine tumbled under two soldiers and cut them both down at the knees, their screams going unheard.

A killing blow to one, two, three. Two more left to kill and one actively dying. By now the two left were running away, but Cervine caught up easily. She took down one and slowed as she advanced on the last, who had fallen and was now scrambling backwards on the ground, pleading. He'd dropped his axe in panic; Cervine picked it up.

Her ears tuned in. "Why are you doing this? Just take us prisoner, we haven't done anything!"

She blinked slowly and jerked her chin over to where Reed lay.

The soldier's eyes widened even more, if possible. "Him?! He's a failed messenger! He's a worthless piece of meat! Why are you --"

"The custom in your army," Cervine cut in. "It is a disgrace to die without weapon in hand, yes?"

The enemy slumped back, staring at her with something that resembled acceptance.

"You are...an honorable enemy," he whispered gratefully.

Cervine made sure he saw her toss the axe aside before she killed him.

...

The rest of the night's sound finally returned to her conscious brain, and Cervine checked to make sure that each of Reed's torturers was well and truly dead. The whole fight had taken nearly thirty minutes. When she wrote up an official report, she knew, it would sound as if it was easy -- but she was panting, bloodstained, and nearly completely exhausted.

None of that mattered compared to Reed, though.

Cervine rushed over to where he lay. Turning him over to cut his restraints, she found that he was out cold -- whether out of pain, exhaustion, injury, or a mix, she didn't know. She checked his pulse and did a quick scan of his bare body for any urgent wounds. Finding none of the latter, Cervine sat back with his head in her lap for just a moment to catch her breath.

The adrenaline and anger were quickly wearing off, and the agent had to fight off a wave of despair at Reed's state.

"Come on," she whispered to him, although there was no way he could hear her. Cervine gently lifted the unconscious young man into something vaguely resembling a bridal carry and wrapped his ragged blanket over him, shielding his back from the cold and pressing his chest against hers.

"Let's get you home, Reed."

...

Standing alone in front of Reed's discarded shirt, Cervine forced herself to calm down. She needed to be calm if she wanted to find him again, after all.

She wondered if his new captor knew about the twelve murdered soldiers. If his new captor had told him, Reed would know that it was she who did it.

Cervine didn't regret it for their sake, but she felt a quiet sadness when she thought of Reed's potential reaction upon learning how easily she'd done it.

@whumpcember @i-eat-worlds @pigeonwhumps

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump prompt #whumpcember #whumpcember2023 #whump caretaker #whumpcember2023day16 #i am so goddamn tired

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mogwai-movie-house · 4 months

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The Best Album Per Year for Sixty Years

No-one asked for it, of course, but I do like making lists, so here's me pondering what have been the best Long Players in the album artform the past 60 years. I originally tried to keep it to just one per year, but many years that proved impossible: when listing multiple albums I have tried ranking them with the one I feel narrowly edges out the others first, and I use lower case to indicate an album that is not at the same level as others on the list but was the best I've heard from that time.

Feel free to have fun with the list and make up your own.

----------------

1962 Bob Dylan - Bob Dylan 1963 The Freewheelin' - Bob Dylan 1964 another side of - bob dylan 1965 Highway 61 Revisited - Bob Dylan 1966 Pet Sounds - The Beach Boys / Blonde On Blonde - Bob Dylan / Revolver - The Beatles 1967 Magical Mystery Tour - The Beatles / The Velvet Underground & Nico / Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme - Simon & Garfunkel / Safe As Milk - Captain Beefheart 1968 Astral Weeks - Van Morrison / The White Album - The Beatles / Bookends - Simon & Garfunkel / We're Only In It For The Money/Lumpy Gravy - Frank Zappa 1969 Let It Bleed - The Rolling Stones / Abbey Road - The Beatles / In A Silent Way - Miles Davis 1970 Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel / Plastic Ono Band - John Lennon 1971 Imagine - John Lennon / Blue - Joni Mitchell / What's Goin' On - Marvin Gaye/ 2 - Moondog 1972 Exile On Main Street - The Rolling Stones / Discover America - Van Dyke Parks / Clear Spot - Captain Beefheart / Ege Bam Yasi - Can 1973 Raw Power - Iggy And The Stooges 1974 Blood On The Tracks - Bob Dylan 1975 Horses - Patti Smith / Discreet Music - Brian Eno / Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd / Velvet Donkey - Ivor Cutler 1976 The Ramones - The Ramones 1977 Low - David Bowie / New Boots & Panties - Ian Dury / Marquee Moon - Television / 77 - Talking Heads 1978 Music For Airports - Brian Eno / This Year's Model - Elvis Costello / Third (Sister Lovers) - Big Star / More Songs About Music & Food - Talking Heads 1979 Unknown Pleasures - Joy Division/ Fear of Music - Talking Heads / Into The Music - Van Morrison / Sheik Yerbouti - Frank Zappa / Rust Never Sleeps - Neil Young 1980 Remain In Light - Talking Heads / Closer - Joy Division / One Trick Pony - Paul Simon / Common One - Van Morrison 1981 Faith - The Cure 1982 Thriller - Michael Jackson / 1999 - Prince / 4 - Peter Gabriel / Too Rye Ay - Dexys Midnight Runners / Big Science - Laurie Anderson / Nebraska - Bruce Springsteen 1983 Swordfishtrombones - Tom Waits / Murmur - R.E.M. / Hearts & Bones - Paul Simon / Off The Bone - The Cramps 1984 Purple Rain - Prince & The Revolution / Hatful Of Hollow - The Smiths / Various Positions - Leonard Cohen / Reckoning - R.E.M. / The Unforgettable Fire - U2 1985 Don't Stand Me Down - Dexys Midnight Runners / Rain Dogs - Tom Waits / Around The World In A Day - Prince & The Revolution / Suzanne Vega - Suzanne Vega / Hounds of Love - Kate Bush / Hunting High & Low - A-ha 1986 Parade - Prince & The Revolution / So - Peter Gabriel / The Queen Is Dead - The Smiths / Graceland - Paul Simon / Steve McQueen - Prefab Sprout / Blood & Chocolate/King of America - Elvis Costello 1987 Sign O The Times - Prince / Strangeways Here We Come - The Smiths / The Joshua Tree - U2 / Actually - Pet Shop Boys / Tango In The Night - Fleetwood Mac 1988 Irish Heartbeat - Van Morrison & The Chieftains / Green - R.E.M. / Viva Hate - Morrissey / The Serpent's Egg - Dead Can Dance / Surfer Rosa - Pixies / Naked - Talking Heads / Introspective - Pet Shop Boys / I'm Your Man - Leonard Cohen / Blue Bell Knoll - Cocteau Twins 1989 Disintegration - The Cure / Technique - New Order / Doolittle - The Pixies / Oh Mercy - Bob Dylan / Avalon Sunset - Van Morrison / Rei Momo - David Byrne / Behaviour - Pet Shop Boys / Candleland - Ian McCulloch 1990 Extricate - The Fall / The Good Son - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds / Songs For Drella - Lou Reed & John Cale / Jonathan Goes Country - Jonathan Richman 1991 Screamadelica - Primal Scream / Achtung Baby - U2 / The Bootleg Boxset - Bob Dylan/ Having a Party with - Jonathan Richman 1992 It's A Shame About Ray - The Lemonheads / Henry's Dream - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds / Automatic For The People - R.E.M. / Good As I Been To You - Bob Dylan / The Future - Leonard Cohen 1993 Debut - Bjork / Dubnobasswithmyheadman - Underworld / Neroli - Brian Eno / Exile In Guyville - Liz Phair / Come On Feel - The Lemonheads / Zooropa - U2 / Vena Cava - Diamanda Galas

1994 Selected Ambient Works Vol. II - Aphex Twin / Toward The Within - Dead Can Dance / Let Love In - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds / Dummy - Portishead / Autogeddon - Julian Cope / Vauxhall & I - Morrissey 1995 Anthology - The Beatles / The Ugly One With The Jewels - Laurie Anderson 1996 Boys For Pele - Tori Amos / Gone Again - Patti Smith 1997 Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space - Spiritualized / The Boatman's Call - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds / Time Out Of Mind - Bob Dylan / Vanishing Point - Primal Scream 1998 Up - R.E.M. / I'm So Confused - Jonathan Richman 1999 Play - Moby / I See A Darkness - Bonnie Prince Billy 2000 XTRMNTR - Primal Scream / All That You Can't Leave Behind - U2 / The Marshall Mathers LP - Eminem / Kid A - Radiohead / KY - Lemon Jelly 2001 Vespertine - Bjork / Love & Theft - Bob Dylan / No More Shall We Part - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 2002 The Eminem Show - Eminem 2003 Room On Fire - The Strokes / The Man Comes Around/Unearthed - Johnny Cash / The Wind - Warren Zevon 2004 Has Been - William Shatner / How To Dismantle An Atom Bomb - U2 / You Are The Quarry - Morrissey / The Milk-Eyed Mender - Joanna Newsom / Smile - Brian Wilson 2005 Another Day On Earth - Brian Eno / Le Fil - Camille 2006 Modern Times - Bob Dylan / Surprise - Paul Simon / Love - The Beatles 2007 for emma, forever ago - bon iver 2008 vampire weekend - vampire weekend 2009 No Line On The Horizon - U2 / The XX - The XX 2010 show me the face - michelle gurevich 2011 Angles - The Strokes / So Beautiful or So What - Paul Simon 2012 Life Is People - Bill Fay / Old Ideas - Leonard Cohen 2013 Comedown Machine - The Strokes / Crimson Red - Prefab Sprout 2014 Ghost Stories - Coldplay / 1989 - Taylor Swift 2015 ★ - David Bowie 2016 Lover, Beloved - Suzanne Vega / Stranger To Stranger - Paul Simon 2017 American Dream - LCD Soundsystem / antisocialites - alvvays 2018 music for installations - Brian Eno 2019 weezer (teal album) - weezer 2020 rough & rowdy ways - bob dylan 2021 happier than ever - billie eilish / lindsey buckingham - lindsay buckingham 2022 dragon new warm mountain i believe in you - big thief

#music #pop #rock n roll

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glittervame · 2 months

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Towards the sun...

Luke x FEM!Reader Band Au! (Ish?)

It's a long one, does it make any sense?

Warnings: none, well kind of pining on reader's side, Not proofread sorry for the grammar

No smut sorry guys :( you're going to get it most of March. This is mostly just a filler until then

A girl, no older than thirteen, sat cross-legged on a grassy knoll, gazing up at the cloudless sky. Her name was Y/n, and she had been sitting in this very spot for what felt like hours, lost in thought. The warm summer breeze tousled her honey-colored hair, and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched a flock of birds soar effortlessly through the air. Her book of Greek Mythology sitting on one of her knees, the pages fluttering in the wind.

She had been brought to this place, Camp Half-Blood, just a few days ago, after her mother had passed away. Her father, a Greek god she'd never met, had apparently claimed her as his own, and now she was here. She wasn't sure what to make of it all. She'd always known she was different, but she'd never imagined she'd be the daughter of a god. Her being obsessed with Greek Mythology didn't really help the millions of questions from running through her head.

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. She looked over her shoulder and saw a tall, muscular man with golden hair and piercing blue eyes walking towards her. He had a kind smile on his face, and she felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her. "You must be Y/n," he said, his voice rich and warm. "I'm your father, Apollo." She couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. He looked exactly like the statues she'd seen in museums.

"Um… hi?" she managed to say, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. Apollo chuckled and sat down next to her. "Don't be afraid, dear. I'm not here to bite. I just wanted to spend some time with you and get to know you better." Y/n hesitated for a moment, then relaxed a bit. "I've always been fascinated by Greek mythology," she said shyly, gesturing towards her book. "I never imagined I'd end up being the daughter of a god."

Apollo nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Indeed, it is quite a revelation. But you must understand, Y/n, that you are not alone here. This camp, Camp Half-Blood, is filled with demigods like yourself. We are all children of the gods, and we must work together to protect one another and maintain balance in the world." Y/n listened intently, her curiosity piqued. She couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in this strange new world.

As they continued to talk, Y/n learned about the various monsters and enemies that demigods faced, and the training they received to prepare for these battles. Apollo told her stories of his own adventures, fighting alongside heroes, and even recounted some of his own exploits as the god of music and poetry. She listened intently, fascinated by every word.

The sound of cheering and laughter filled the crisp summer night, mingling with the distant strum of a guitar. Amidst the frenzy of activity, two figures could be seen making their way towards the makeshift stage, their movements in sync despite the growing distance between them. One, a girl with hair the color of the shiniest of gold, her eyes sparkling with determination, clutched a battered old instrument to her chest. The other, a boy with hair as dark as ebony and a pair of chocolate eyes, his posture exuding an air of confidence that was almost arrogant.

They were Y/n and Luke, the heart and soul of the camp's latest sensation: the band known only as "Hybrid harmonics."

The stage loomed before them, its worn boards creaking beneath their weight as they climbed up and took their places. As Y/n strummed the first chord of their signature song, "The Call of the Gods," a hush fell over the crowd, and all eyes were upon them. Luke joined in, his voice soaring above the music, his fingers dancing nimbly across the frets of his electric guitar. The crowd erupted into applause, whistles, and shouts of approval, and the duo fed off the energy, their performance growing more intense with each passing moment.

Their setlist was all of different variety: from the haunting melodies of "The Fallen Hero" to the upbeat, anthemic "The Chosen One," each song told a story, each note carrying the weight of the different experiences at Camp Half-Blood. As they worked their way through their repertoire, their connection on stage became palpable, their movements fluid and effortless.

The encore came as no surprise to the crowd, who had been clamoring for more ever since the duo had finished their last song. As Y/n and Luke took their places once again, the cheers and applause reached a deafening crescendo. They exchanged knowing glances, nodded briefly at each other, and then launched into their signature encore number, "The Battle Cry." The crowd went wild, surging forward, dancing and swaying to the powerful rhythm. The music seemed to wash over them, filling their souls with a sense of camaraderie and belonging that was unique to Camp Half-Blood.

As the final notes of the song faded away, the crowd showed their appreciation with a thunderous standing ovation. Y/n and Luke took a bow together, their hands clasped tightly, beaming with pride and gratitude. They shared a look that spoke volumes about their friendship, their shared experiences, and their love for the music that had brought them together.

"You were amazing tonight!" a voice called out from the crowd, breaking the silence. It was Annabeth, their closest friend and confidante. She made her way through the throng of people, a big grin plastered on her face. "I couldn't be more proud of you two!" she added, wrapping an arm around each of them.

"Thanks, Annabeth," Luke said, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"Of course you could," she insisted, squeezing them both. "You're the ones who make the music come alive." She glanced over at Y/n. "And you have the most amazing voice I've ever heard."

"Oh, stop it," Y/n laughed, blushing a little. "We're just happy we could bring some joy to everyone tonight. That's what this camp is all about, isn't it?"

They stood there, basking in the afterglow of their performance, surrounded by their friends and fellow campers. As the last stragglers made their way off the stage, Y/n and Luke exchanged a final smile before parting ways, each returning to their cabins for the night. But as they walked, they couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment and contentment that was unlike anything they had ever experienced before.

Normally Y/n never sang mane on a song but tonight they were just doing cover songs and Luke had suggested that she take the lead saying, "It'll give you a chance to show off your pretty voice" with his annoyingly perfect smile finishing it off.

"Turn your face towards the sun, Let the shadows fall behind you"

And tonight, Y/n couldn't help but feel a certain spark whenever she glanced over at Luke, as Y/n strummed her guitar, she couldn't help but wonder if Luke felt it too, the pull to be closer to each other.

"Don't look back, just carry on, and the shadows will never find you"

The energy in the room was palpable, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of sweat and perfume. The crowd, a mix of campers and counselors, swayed to the rhythm of their songs.

"Turn your face towards the sun, let the shadows fall behind you"

She glanced over at him again, His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, and she couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat.

"Don't look back, just carry on, and the shadows will never find you"

All she wanted was for him to notice her, to see her as more than just a bandmate or a friend.

"Lost in the rock and roll"

Their fingers danced nimbly across the strings of their guitars, weaving together a tapestry of sound that was as complex as it was beautiful. Every note seemed to hold a piece of their souls, a testament to the years they had spent honing their craft.

"Got lost in a promise of a love I'd never know"

Her eyes shift back in front of her, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill course through her veins as she looked out into the sea of adoring fans. She knew that Luke felt it too; she could see it in the way he leaned into every chord, the way he grins when the crowd gets louder.

"Shadows chased me far from home"

It was in one of those moments, when their eyes met once more. The air seemed to still for a brief second, as if the entire crowd had held their breath. Luke smiled at Y/n, a small, shy smile that never failed to make her heart flutter.

"I remember when my heart is filled with gold"

She knows where she wants to be no matter what, and its right by his side. She's not going anywhere.

#fypシ #writers on tumblr #y/n #luke castellan #luke #reader pining #send help #lowkey a long one #luke castellan x reader #band au #camp half blood #pining

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tfc2211 · 3 months

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Whiskey And Rock & Roll - Black Frogs Rockabilly Band Rockabilly Rhythm - Tom Stormy Trio feat. Rhythm Sophie Hillbilly Rock'n'Roll - Voodoo Swing Everybody Needs To Rock - Phil Haley And The Comments Train Kept A Rollin' - Imelda May Come Rock With Me - Ray Gelato Purr Kitty - The Firebirds Diana - The Silverballs Dirty Baby - Danny Rockabilly & His Clan Doin' Time For Bein' Young - The Prison Band Be Bop a Lula - Chuck Mead & His Grassy Knoll Boys Jumpin' Record - The Wise Guyz Dismissed Man - Boppin' B No Heart To Spare - The Go Getters Stranger Girl - The Slapbacks Move On - Jack Baymoore And The Bandits Country Roads - CandyMen Duo Boppin' Mary Lou - Marc & The Wild Ones You Ain't Nothin' But Fine - The Jets Gonna Rock And Roll - Cave Catt Sammy Rockabilly Boogie - The Obscuritones Drinking Gasoline - The Baboons The Wanderer - The Lennerockers Don't Bug Me Baby - The Swamp Shakers Roll Roll Roll - The Rock'n'Roll Kamikazes Mary Lou - Darrel Higham American Music - The Woodchoppers Folsom Prison Blues - Chili & The Barracudas Stray Cat Strut - Stray Cats

#Rockabilly #rock n roll #Music Compilation

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defjux · 1 year

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Hi Chris! I followed you a few years back because you posted a lot of Jazz and Hip Hop but I know you're into other genres as well. I've been trying to branch out a bit and you seem like a good person to ask for recommendations, so I was wondering if maybe you could post some of your favorite band/artists currently or anything you'd recommend? Any genre is fine! Love your blog btw, glad to see you're still on here :) Cheers!

thanks for the kind words anon, always nice to feel like the time i've spent on here wasn't a complete waste. sorry it took a few days to respond to this, but i wanted to give a more in depth answer. i can throw out some recommendations for sure, i basically just went through my last.fm from the last year and added all the non hip hop / jazz stuff to a list. you didn't mention if you were into metal or hardcore at all and there's quite a bit of that on here, but if you're not interested in that let me know and i can suggest some other stuff. i'm not a genre expert or anything but i did my best to give a brief description, so maybe if you end up liking one of these artists it'd be easier to find something similar. also a good chance you might be familiar with some of the ones that are more hip hop adjacent. you can also click the name of the artist and it'll take you to an album i recommend on bandcamp or spotify. i'd also be down to do another one of these later if you want, you can even hit me up off anon if you want. i appreciate you and i hope you're doing well! peace.

tried to make this as neat as i could so i put it in alphabetical order and made it a read more. 1. 10th Letter (Electronic/Jazz/Hip hop - Underappreciated producer, if you’re a fan of Flying Lotus you’d probably like this) 2. Alvvays (Indie Pop / Dream Pop) 3. At the Drive-In (Post-Hardcore, Relationship of Command is my favorite album in the genre) 4. Autonoesis (Thrash Metal / Black Metal) 5. Birds in Row (Post-Hardcore / Screamo) 6. Blood Command (Poppy Post-Hardcore/Alt Rock. Not a huge fan of their new vocalist, but the previous album and EP with Karina are both fantastic) 7. Boris (Drone, Stoner Rock, Noise Rock, Sludge, Post-Rock, Crust Punk – depends heavily on the album. ) 8. Bruno Pernadas (Progressive Jazz Fusion Art Pop) 9. Brutus (Post-Hardcore / Post-Metal, Stefanie is one of my favorite vocalists right now) 10. The Callous Daoboys (Mathcore) 11. Chelsea Wolfe (Darkwave / Gothic Rock / Doom Metal / Dark Folk) 12. Cibo Matto - (Art Pop / Trip Hop) 13. Cleric (Avant-Garde Metal / Mathcore / Brutal Prog) 14. Cloud Rat (Grindcore / Punk) 15. Converge (Metallic Hardcore, another all time favorite band.) 16. Cult of Luna (Atmospheric Sludge Metal / Post-Metal) 17. The Dillinger Escape Plan (Mathcore, top 5 band of all time for me) 18. Dragged Into Sunlight (Blackened Death / Doom Metal) 19. Dreamwell (Screamo/Post-Hardcore) 20. Every Time I Die (Southern-fried Metalcore / Mathcore, an all time favorite of mine) 21. Fievel is Glauque (Jazz Pop / Progressive Pop) 22. Genesis Owusu (Hip Hop/Neo-Soul/Funk/Post-Punk - all over the place in a good way) 23. Gospel (Blend of 70s Prog Rock with Screamo/Post-hardcore, with their 2022 album being a lot more of the former but still very good.) 24. Greyhaven (Metalcore / Post Hardcore - one of the few bands i know of carrying the torch for that Southern-tinged Metalcore sound since Every Time I Die split) 25. Grouper (Ambient/drone, folk and dream pop influences)

26. Hiatus Kaiyote (Psychedelic Neo-soul / Nu-Jazz) 27. Ichiko Aoba (Minimalistic Ambient Folk) 28. Imperial Triumphant (Avant-Garde Black Metal fused with Jazz) 29. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard (Foundation of their sound is pretty much Psychedelic Rock but they pull from all over the musical spectrum. Last album even had a couple tracks with rapping, hard band to classify. It’d be easier to list the rock subgenres they haven’t dabbled in) 30. Knoll (Grindcore / Death Grind) 31. Krallice (Avant-Garde Black Metal) 32. Liv.e (Neo-Soul / Alternative R&B) 33. Massa Nera (Post-Hardcore / Screamo / Post-Rock) 34. Maudlin of the Well (Avant-Garde Progressive Metal - Also check Kayo Dot) 35. Messa (Doom Metal) 36. Misþyrming (Black Metal) 37. Ne Obliviscaris (Progressive Black Metal with violin except it’s actually tasteful and doesn’t feel gimmicky) 38. Neptunian Maximalism (Avant-Garde Jazz/Drone/Noise/Industrial.. like Swans meets Sun Ra meets John Zorn’s Electric Masada. These guys also have some of the best album artwork out there.) 39. The Ocean (Progressive Metal / Sludge - mainly on the earlier albums) 40. Oranssi Pazuzu (Avante Garde Psychedelic Black Metal) 41. Os Mutantes (Brazilian Psych Rock) 42. Otoboke Beaver (Noisy, High energy Hardcore / Garage Punk from Japan, very fun band) 43. Panopticon (Atmospheric Black Metal with some Bluegrass and Folk influences) 44. Protomartyr (I think I like these guys the most out of all the newer Post-Punk bands) 45. Rolo Tomassi (Mathcore, Post-Metal, Post-Hardcore) 46. Senza (Blackened Screamo/Mathcore. Chaotic in a way that reminds me of Jerome’s Dream a bit.) 47. Sigh (Black Metal, Avant-Garde Metal, Progressive Metal) 48. Soul Glo (Noisy Hardcore Punk, 2022 album incorporated some more hip hop elements and even had rap features. Shout out to McKinley Dixon who used to be on tumblr waaay back about a decade ago.) 49. Spiritbox (Alt Metal / Djent / Metalcore) 50. Stereolab (Space Age Pop mixed with Lounge Music and Krautrock) 51. Sudan Archives (Alternative R&B, Art Pop / Neo-Soul) 52. Tim Hecker (Ambient / Drone) 53. toe (Japanese Math Rock / Post-Rock - Kashikura Takashi is one of the greatest drummers ever.) 54. Tómarúm (Progressive Technical Melodic Black Metal) 55. Tricot (J-Rock / Math Rock / Pop) 56. Tropical Fuck Storm (Punk-Blues, Noise Rock) 57. U.S. Girls (Psychedelic Pop / Art Pop) 58. Ulcerate (Technical Death Metal) 59. Ultha (Atmospheric Black Metal) 60. Vanishing Twin ( Neo-Psychedelic Art Pop, check if you like Stereolab or Broadcast) 61. Wake (Black Metal / Tech Death / Sludge - Grindcore on the early releases) 62. Weyes Blood (Baroque Pop / Art Pop) 63. White Ward (Black Metal / Blackgaze /Dark Jazz) 64. Wormrot (Grindcore) 65. Yves Tumor (Unique sound blending Neo-Psych / Soul / Glam Rock / Hypnagogic Pop + some Sound Collage / Ambient stuff as well on earlier albums)

#music recommendations #anonymous #the dillinger escape plan #every time i die #converge #soul go #panopticon #krallice #ne obliviscaris #hiatus kaiyote #maudlin of the well #weyes blood #cloud rat #wormrot #the callous daoboys #stereolab #white ward #yves tumor

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michaelchallpics · 6 months

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Inside ‘Dexter’ Star Michael C. Hall’s Killer New York City Digs

Designer Sara Bengur helped the actor and his wife, Morgan, create the color-drenched home of their dreams.By Ingrid Abramovitch and Styled by Anita SarsidiPublished: Oct 11, 2023

Since founding her firm in 1993, New York–based interior designer Sara Bengur has won awards for her work and garnered projects from Washington, D.C., to the French West Indies to her native Istanbul. Still, when she heard about the New York Design Center’s Access to Design—a matchmaking program between clients and designers—she decided to give it a try. The last thing she expected was for the first query to come from a celebrity. And to instantly bag the job.

The Paul McCobb chairs are vintage, the 1950s table is Italian, and the Tulu rug is from Double Knot.

But that’s exactly what happened when Michael C. Hall—aka the star behind the TV show Dexter—and his wife Morgan flipped through Bengur’s portfolio. “We wanted something simultaneously sophisticated and playful—and we wanted color!” says Hall, who also fronts an indie band, Princess Goes, that released a new album, Come of Age, on October 6. “Sara’s spaces have an ease and flow that immediately appealed.”

The couple had recently moved from the West Coast to New York City and found an apartment at the El Dorado, a legendary Art Deco cooperative on Central Park West. Both Hall and his spouse are design aficionados who started out trying to decorate their home themselves. But while searching for fabrics and furniture at the design center, they realized they needed guidance. “They went to shop and got overwhelmed,” Bengur says. “I got an email from Michael saying, ‘When can we meet?’ I ran up to the El Dorado, and it was an instant connection. We laugh a lot together. They are both creative and really a joy.”

A vibrant pink pigment painting by Bill Kane contrasts with purple walls. The Richard Schultz chairs for Knoll and the Suzani and Moroccan rug from Double Knot are vintage. The walls are painted in Amorous by Benjamin Moore.Richard Powers

Before the move to New York, the couple had spent a stint in the United Kingdom, where Hall was shooting the Netflix murder-mystery series Safe. While overseas, they had fallen under the spell of English country house decor and wanted to bring a similar approach to their New York classic six apartment. “They loved the casual elegance of British country homes with the florals and patterns and feeling of design elements layered over time,” Bengur says. “And like me, they love color. So we experimented with different color combinations, spending hours on the living room floor with bags and bags of samples and color swatches.”

Tour Michael C. Hall’s Color-Drenched NYC Apartment by Sara Bengur

#michael c. hall #new york #apartment #design #home #decoration #I love this!!#They both have a fine taste #dexter #six feet under #princess goes #actor #el dorado

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eggplantmaniac420 · 7 months

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A squadron of bug-eyed police officers with binoculars, three veteran detectives working round the clock, a pack of sniffing bloodhounds straining against their leashes and howling into the night, a swarm of camera drones, a human chain of volunteers combing the area, The Neighborhood Watch, two rival news helicopters competing to broadcast the best live coverage to people all around the globe, twenty searchlights stapled together, crowd of curious onlookers prone to uttering "oohs" and "ahs", a paranoid drug dealer across the street who's freaking out about all the cops, two spy planes working in shifts to ensure constant surveillance, a colony of cockroaches trained to report back to the CIA, a vast coalition of CCTV cameras, a security guard snoring in front of the monitor, an old fogey with a dousing rod and a plumbob, a horde of purposeful paparazzi weighed down with expensive telephoto lenses, somebody hiding in the grassy knoll, a carrot-eating eagle, a panoply of reliable eyewitnesses, a dubiously-effective psychic with downright unreasonable rates for divination, a peeping tom peering eagerly through a gap in the blinds, a heat-seeking missile that has never once missed in its entire career, a spotterless sniper, a sniperless spotter (a conflict of personalities, you see), a grizzled tracker numbed to life after a man-eating shrew tore his wife to shreds, a cocky crewman in the crow's nest, a band of Ostrogoths who have been waiting for 1600 hundred years to ambush a Roman patrol that never came, a sinister pair of disembodied eyes that can float wherever they please and gaze upon whatever they desire, a tourist just taking in the sights, a sparsely-manned border outpost built long ago in case an ancient enemy should one day return, a seasoned referee whose impartiality is legendary, an astronaut looking out the window and squinting - really squinting, The Panopticon, a powder-faced woman leaning over a balcony with a pair of opera glasses, a curious cat, a periscope poking up out of the local pond, a frustrated father who pauses occasionally to scratch his head and exclaim "Where in the hell...", an optometrist gone mad with sight-enhancing power, an omniscient godhead with perfect knowledge of the universe from the largest galactic superstructure down to the smallest quark across the entire expanse of time, and a nervous guy waiting outside the drug dealer's house with a wad of wrinkled ten dollar bills in his pocket

vs.

Someone standing behind the curtain and trying not to giggle

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denimbex1986 · 9 months

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'It's been a few good weeks for the movies, and Oppenheimer is still rocking movie theaters everywhere with the tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy), the so-called "father of the atomic bomb." Christopher Nolan's biopic shows how the nuclear physicist saw his creation have its purposes twisted and used to kill thousands of innocent people until he became an advocate against it. But a similar story has already been told in theaters, one set a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. If you're not connecting the dots, we're talking about Rogue One: A Star Wars Story and one of its main characters, Galen Erso (Mads Mikkelsen).

Although the 2016 prequel to A New Hope is mostly focused on the ragtag band of rebels that stole the Death Star plans from the Empire, it also tells a little about how the planet-killing super weapon came to be, along with the companion novel, Catalyst: A Rogue One Story. Like the bombs created by Oppenheimer, the Death Star is also the ultimate destructive power, capable of literally destroying worlds. Its purpose was not only military but also political, as the Empire expected systems to fall in line, as much as the U.S. government expected atomic power to ultimately be exclusive to them.

The Tragedy of Oppenheimer Was the Inspiration for ‘Rogue One’

The original idea for what would eventually become Rogue One came from legendary ILM visual effects supervisor John Knoll, who's been working on Star Wars since the Prequel Trilogy. His first treatment for the story was named "Destroyer of Worlds", inspired by the Hindu verses that Oppenheimer famously used to express his regret at developing the atomic bomb. Although the idea for the movie was to ultimately depict the stealing of the Death Star plans by Jyn Erso (Felicity Jones) and the Rogue One team, the key to the development of the movie was her father, Galen Erso.

The story in itself already sets the highest possible stakes — if Jyn doesn't succeed, entire planets could be destroyed by the Empire using the Death Star — but it also needed to carry emotional weight, and that's where Galen comes in. His role is to serve as a motivation for Jyn to join the mission with the Rebels, but he also has his own story arc as a scientist who has his research twisted and weaponized by the Empire. A kyber crystal researcher, he is responsible for the design and production of the Death Star super laser, powered by the Force-attuned gems.

A few years before Knoll pitched his idea to Lucasfilm, Gareth Edwards was a visual effects artist on a BBC documentary called Hiroshima, which came out in 2005. Edwards would eventually take the job as Rogue One director, but his work on Hiroshima gave him plenty of historical knowledge about this part of World War II, including the development of the atomic bomb by Oppenheimer. In line with the core idea of Knoll's, the production got the codename "Los Alamos," a direct reference to the location where Oppenheimer and his team of physicists worked on Project Manhattan.

With those guidelines, the story of Rogue One was developed with the parallel between the Death Star and the atomic bomb in mind. Both are super weapons of planet-killing capabilities, designed by men who may have joined such projects with the best of intentions, but ended up bitterly regretting their involvement once their true destructive powers were revealed. As Galen says in his holographic message to Jyn, "There's no better name" for the Death Star, and his words are a sort of parallel to Oppenheimer's "destroyer of worlds" quote because that's what he ended up becoming.

‘Star Wars’ Often Draws Inspiration From Archetypes Like Oppenheimer

The parallel between Galen Erso and J. Robert Oppenheimer is certainly an interesting one to draw inspiration from, and it's something that only someone who's been a long-time fan of Star Wars like John Knoll could come up with. We know all the cinematic and artistic influences behind George Lucas' vision for the franchise back in the late 1970s, as well as the political parallels with the war in Vietnam, but World War II has also been a constant source of ideas for the movies, from starship design and general aesthetic to whole action sequences, like the Death Star trench run in A New Hope.

Only what makes J. Robert Oppenheimer a good inspiration isn't necessarily the fact that the better part of his tragedy took place mostly during World War II, but that he ultimately became a sort of mythical archetype himself. As Rian Johnson once wisely put it, "Myths are made to reflect the most difficult transitions we go through," and, in that sense, Oppenheimer is more than a cautionary tale, his tragedy is a modern adaptation of the myth of Prometheus, who stole the fire from the gods and was later forced to spend eternity suffering as a consequence (in fact, Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer script is even based on a biography titled American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer). The mythical qualities of his story are what makes it appealing to Star Wars, it's the kind of framework the franchise has always used to build its narrative and characters.

Galen Erso's story may have a few key differences when compared to Oppenheimer's, of course. For example, he ended up dying before witnessing the destruction his creation could unleash, and he still managed to quietly undermine the Death Star by laying a trap beneath all the destructive power it boasted on the surface. Oppenheimer was indeed deemed a traitor by some due to his "communist connections", as Galen was later discovered by Orson Krennic (Ben Mendelsohn), and he did become an activist against nuclear power, but this is far from causing the same consequences as Galen's trap, unfortunately. But what matters for Star Wars is the similarities between them, as much as the historical and mythical qualities carried by Oppenheimer. It's no surprise that John Knoll would come up with this sort of parallel, it takes a fan to see this kind of thing between the lines of real history and work it creatively into a new story.'

#Galen Erso #Mads Mikkelsen #Oppenheimer #Cillian Murphy #Christopher Nolan #Rogue One: A Star Wars Story #“Destroyer of Worlds”#John Knoll #Jyn Erso #Felicity Jones #“Los Alamos”#Gareth Edwards #Hiroshima

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ortodelmondo · 7 months

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(𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞: 𝐈𝐬𝐡𝐢, 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐧)

(𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞: 𝐈𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬: 𝐀 𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚 & 𝐖𝐢𝐤𝐢)

Ishi (c1861 – March 25, 1916) was the last known member of the Native American Yahi people from the present-day state of California in the United States. The rest of the Yahi (as well as many members of their parent tribe, the Yana) were killed in the California genocide in the 19th century. Ishi, who was widely acclaimed as the "last wild Indian" in the United States, lived most of his life isolated from modern North American culture. In 1911, aged 50, he emerged at a barn and corral, 2 mi (3.2 km) from downtown Oroville, California.

Ishi, which means "man" in the Yana language, is an adopted name. The anthropologist Alfred Kroeber gave him this name because, in the Yahi culture, tradition demanded that he not speak his own name until formally introduced by another Yahi. When asked his name, he said: "I have none, because there were no people to name me," meaning that there was no other Yahi to speak his name on his behalf.

Ishi was taken in by anthropologists at the University of California, Berkeley, who both studied him and hired him as a janitor. He lived most of his remaining five years in a university building in San Francisco. His life was depicted and discussed in multiple films and books, notably the biographical account Ishi in Two Worlds published by Theodora Kroeber in 1961.

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

In 1865, Ishi and his family were attacked in the Three Knolls Massacre, in which 40 of their tribesmen were killed. Although 33 Yahi survived to escape, cattlemen killed about half of the survivors. The last survivors, including Ishi and his family, went into hiding for the next 44 years. Their tribe was popularly believed to be extinct. Prior to the California Gold Rush of 1848–1855, the Yahi population numbered 404 in California, but the total Yana in the larger region numbered 2,997.

The gold rush brought tens of thousands of miners and settlers to northern California, putting pressure on native populations. Gold mining damaged water supplies and killed fish; the deer left the area. The settlers brought new infectious diseases such as smallpox and measles. The northern Yana group became extinct while the central and southern groups (who later became part of Redding Rancheria) and Yahi populations dropped dramatically. Searching for food, they came into conflict with settlers, who set bounties of 50 cents per scalp and 5 dollars per head on the natives. In 1865, the settlers attacked the Yahi while they were still asleep.

𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝:

"In 1865, near the Yahi's special place, Black Rock, the waters of Mill Creek turned red at the Three Knolls Massacre. 'Sixteen' or 'seventeen' Indian fighters killed about forty Yahi, as part of a retaliatory attack for two white women and a man killed at the Workman's household on Lower Concow Creek near Oroville. Eleven of the Indian fighters that day were Robert A. Anderson, Harmon (Hi) Good, Sim Moak, Hardy Thomasson, Jack Houser, Henry Curtis, his brother Frank Curtis, as well as Tom Gore, Bill Matthews, and William Merithew. W. J. Seagraves visited the site, too, but some time after the battle had been fought.

Robert Anderson wrote, "Into the stream they leapt, but few got out alive. Instead many dead bodies floated down the rapid current." One captive Indian woman named Mariah from Big Meadows (Lake Almanor today), was one of those who did escape. The Three Knolls massacre is also described in Theodora Kroeber's Ishi in Two Worlds.

Since then more has been learned. It is estimated that with this massacre, Ishi's entire cultural group, the Yana/Yahi, may have been reduced to about sixty individuals. From 1859 to 1911, Ishi's remote band became more and more infiltrated by non-Yahi Indian representatives, such as Wintun, Nomlaki, and Pit River individuals.

In 1879, the federal government started Indian boarding schools in California. Some men from the reservations became renegades in the hills. Volunteers among the settlers and military troops carried out additional campaigns against the northern California Indian tribes during that period.

In late 1908, a group of surveyors came across the camp inhabited by two men, a middle-aged woman, and an elderly woman. These were Ishi, his uncle, his younger sister, and his mother, respectively. The former three fled while the latter hid in blankets to avoid detection, as she was sick and unable to flee. The surveyors ransacked the camp, and Ishi's mother died soon after his return. His sister and uncle never returned, possibly drowning in a nearby river.

𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲

After the 1908 encounter, Ishi spent three more years alone in the wilderness. Starving and with nowhere to go, Ishi, at around the age of 50, emerged on August 29, 1911, at the Charles Ward slaughterhouse back corral near Oroville, California, after forest fires in the area. He was found pre-sunset by Floyd Hefner, son of the next-door dairy owner (who was in town), who was "hanging out", and who went to harness the horses to the wagon for the ride back to Oroville, for the workers and meat deliveries. Witnessing slaughterhouse workers included Lewis "Diamond Dick" Cassings, a "drugstore cowboy". Later, after Sheriff J.B. Webber arrived, the Sheriff directed Adolph Kessler, a nineteen-year-old slaughterhouse worker, to handcuff Ishi, who smiled and complied.

The "wild man" caught the imagination and attention of thousands of onlookers and curiosity seekers. University of California, Berkeley anthropology professors read about him and "brought him" to the Affiliated Colleges Museum (1903—1931), in an old law school building on the University of California's Affiliated Colleges campus on Parnassus Heights, San Francisco. Studied at the university, Ishi also worked as a janitor and lived at the museum for most of the remaining five years of his life.

In October 1911, Ishi, Sam Batwi, T. T. Waterman, and A. L. Kroeber, went to the Orpheum Opera House in San Francisco to see Lily Lena (Alice Mary Ann Mathilda Archer, born 1877) the "London Songbird," known for "kaleidoscopic" costume changes. Lena gave Ishi a piece of gum as a token.

On May 13, 1914, Ishi, T. T. Waterman, A.L. Kroeber, Dr Saxton Pope, and Saxton Pope Jr. (11 years old), took Southern Pacific's Cascade Limited overnight train, from the Oakland Mole and Pier to Vina, California, on a trek in the homelands of the Deer Creek area of Tehama county, researching and mapping for the University of California, fleeing on May 30, 1914, during the Lassen Peak volcano eruption.

In February 1915, during Panama–Pacific International Exposition, Ishi was filmed in the Sutro Forest with the actress Grace Darling for Hearst-Selig News Pictorial, No. 30.

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

Lacking acquired immunity to common diseases, Ishi was often ill. He was treated by Saxton T. Pope, a professor of medicine at UCSF. Pope became a close friend of Ishi and learned from him how to make bows and arrows in the Yahi way. He and Ishi often hunted together. Ishi died of tuberculosis on March 25, 1916. It is said that his last words were, "You stay. I go." His friends at the university tried to prevent an autopsy on Ishi's body since Yahi tradition called for the body to remain intact. However, the doctors at the University of California medical school performed an autopsy before Waterman could prevent it.

Ishi's brain was preserved and his body was cremated. His friends placed grave goods with his remains before cremation: "one of his bows, five arrows, a basket of acorn meal, a box full of shell bead money, a purse full of tobacco, three rings, and some obsidian flakes." Ishi's remains were interred at Mount Olivet Cemetery in Colma, California, near San Francisco. Kroeber put Ishi's preserved brain in a deerskin-wrapped Pueblo Indian pottery jar and sent it to the Smithsonian Institution in 1917. It was held there until August 10, 2000, when the Smithsonian repatriated it to the descendants of the Redding Rancheria and Pit River tribes. This was in accordance with the National Museum of the American Indian Act of 1989 (NMAI). According to Robert Fri, director of the National Museum of Natural History, "Contrary to commonly-held belief, Ishi was not the last of his kind. In carrying out the repatriation process, we learned that as a Yahi–Yana Indian his closest living descendants are the Yana people of northern California." His remains were also returned from Colma, and the tribal members intended to bury them in a secret place.

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