#YEAH Rooster has a religious experience about it

[likeastars]

YURI TIME!!!!!!!!

I actually wanted to rec you a lot of these!!!! But you know them already >:/ you're too yuri informed I've been yuri beaten >>>>>:/

Anyway. I love both liar satsuki can see death and i see you aizawa-san and the way they're all about building connections with the people around them!! Especially in liar satsuki the cast of characters is so varied and creative (ATOU-SAN I LOVE YOU).

For me the biggest surprise among all of these was I love Amy because I was expecting a fun yandere story and then it became???? A touching commentary on mentally ill people falling in love and creating environments in which they can thrive???? It's so cute and so silly I had so much fun with it!!!

Also I started brides of iberis and why did you have to make me sad. Am I not sad enough normally why did we have to be sadder.

LET'S GO TO THE RECSSSSSSS

1. Her tale of shim-cheong/her shim-cheong: this one is required yuri reading. I wanted to do a manga section but I needed this one to be the first bc it's so good man. I was crying I was bawling I couldn't put my phone down. The art is a bit rough around the edges but it can be stunning and the plot is a fun retelling of a korean tale (of shim-cheong. Duh) but YURI!!!!!!!! It's a classic poor girl and rich girl fall in love but it's so well written it becomes so much more. It's such a beautiful conversation with the reader about misogyny and how brutal it was at the time and how it affects everyone independently of class. Our protagonist (poor girl) is obviously more physically in danger because of it (men steal her stuff, almost beat her up and sexually harass her) but we also follow the toll it has on the other main character (rich girl) and the way it doesn’t even allow her to have a name, which we never learn through the course of the story. She also has a dog motif going on which. Hell yeah. The comic gives a lot of dignity to characters like the prostitute, and it does a wonderful job of depicting queerness very explicitly (there's a scene where rich girl is dragged in a brothel by her brother when she's like 5 and she goes WHOOOOAAAAAAA)

Tw: violence, some blood, religious people being awful, sexual harassment (very well handled), general time-typical sexism, some slight ableism (<not handled as well)

2. Doughnuts under a crescent moon: this one has the very simple premise of two coworkers finding striking a friendship and finding solace in each other. It tackles these themes of queer shame and self sacrifice for others in a very grounded way that makes it a perfect comfort read. It also does a very good job of handling the experience of asexuality/aromanticism

Tw: self hatred

3. Everything by Arai Sumiko lmao: you might know this author for the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all (the green leasbians) (it's so cute and fluffy I bought it and now it sits on the shelf near madoka ohoohohoh) but she's written a lot of these like. One shots and concepts that are very interesting and fun, like "the real Momoka" where a butch and a femme switch names since they feel like they suit each other more, and they have to be in love for a while but the butch thinks she's just being played with :) I love Arai's style so much it looks like ice-cream, and I love her character design!!! She draws a lot of these women that are kinda alt (AND BUTCH HELL FUCKING YEAH) and don't really fit in into the classic rooster of manga characters :))) so just go through her stuff!!! Have fun!!!!

4. Some reincarnation manhwas: reincarnation manhwas used to be surprisingly... fruity? Before they started being mass produced like factory products. Some examples include: beware of the villainess, where the titular villainess tries to survive in her favourite story, realises the leads are trash and cures their misogyny with the power of SWORD. the og novel protagonist legit falls in love with her and she and the actual male (ugh) love interest fight all the time over the villainess' attention. One of my very first manhwa and and onemy fave storie in general <3 another cool one is your throne, all about the political intrigue where two women discover they can swap bodies and decide to kill their common ex. Top tier content. This one's a bit more subtle but they actually have a lot of romantic coded scenes, like calling each other "the one they love" and shit. It's there but I don't think the author intended it

It's very very well written BUT DON'T READ THE SECOND SEASON. IT'S TRASH.

Tw: violence, blood, abuse, sexual harassment

5. Surviving romance: still a manwha, but we're skewing more into webtoon territory. Still implied queerness but. It’s there. Come on. Girl ends up reincarnated in a novel but... shit happens. I'd feel bad spoling you the first few chapters of the comic because they are literally Insane. But she needs to find the unknown extra who saved her life (FRUITY) and there’s some music sharing and songs involved (EVEN MORE FRUITY) but I have to say this is just a genuinely well crafted story about finding community and a meta story about stories and reading. A bit of a mindfuck toh but really good

Tw: violence, gore, blood, zombies (don't ask), suicide, body horror (IT'S REALLY LIGHT HEARTED I PROMISE

6. Muted: <<This is fully webtoon territory!!!! I understand not wanting to get into it bc it's an app and you have to make an account for it (and the quality of the stories has started to get real bad real fast recently) but there's some gems in there if ya wanna try dabbling in it>>

THIS IS ABOUT GAY WITCHES!!!! AND TRAUMA!!!!!!! Stunning art, amazing story about the shackles of heterosexual abuse, and POLYAMOROUS GAY WITCHES AND DEMONS!!!!!!!!!! Amazing. Stellar. 20/10

Tw: blood, gore, some body horror?? (<demon possession), self harm (<for rituals), burn scars, parental abuse (this is an heavy one guys. Real heavy but real well written) and all of that jazz

7. The witch: GAY WITCHES AGAIN!!!!!!! I might have a type. This one follows a witch through the centuries as she meets people and falls in love again and again, until she meets the dragon 💖💖💖💖💖💖 this one's narrated like a fable and it takes the story reaaaaal slow and it takes many many chapter before the two leads even meet. WORTH IT THOUGH. SOOOO WORTH IT

8. Nevermore: I've been obsessed with this webcomic for years I don't even have the energy to talk about it anymore lmao. It's about tragic dead poe gothic lesbians. What more could you want??? If you want to learn more about it just go through the "nev" tag in my blog you'll learn more than enough.

Tw: violence, blood, neglect, medical abuse, ableism (<well handled), doomed yuri

9: facing the sun: this one is sad. Well written, splendidly drawn, with an amazing world building and characters with extremely interesting relationships between that but MAN is it sad. A woman falls in love with her medical support robot which gains sentience and with it mental illness. Kill me with an hammer.

Really good but :((((((

Also independently punished if you don't wanna read it on webtoon

Tw: WHERE DO I EVEN START. EVERYTHING. TOO SAD DO NOT READ (well. Do it actually. Just don't blame me.)

9. Tiger, tiger: LAST ONE!!!!!! SORRY FOR RAMBLING <3 Girl takes her brother's place on his merchant ship to study sea sponges and an eldritch horror falls in love with her <333333 this one's independently published, and the author's on tumblr!!!

Tw: some nudity, some violence, some body horror (by the eldritch horror)

*twirling my hair* do you have some good yuri manga recs?

(lying on my stomach and kicking my feet) i'm SO glad you asked!

to preface this i'll be excluding better-known yuri or yuri that's recently gotten its flowers (whether thru virality or adaptations) (e.g. in love with the villainess, love bullet, bloom into you, etc. etc.) and will instead be recc'ing works i don't often encounter in the wild. some will be more well-known than others, but all of these i've enjoyed and would encourage others to check out! under the cut because. this got. so long. i heart yuri <3

multi-chapter

the princess of sylph (ongoing; self-publishing): plot-heavy fantasy yuri between a bereaved princess with the aura of a thousand sad hamsters and a persistent nun whose silliness conceals a deep well of trauma. gushed about it plenty here. i recommend starting with the serialized version, the proceeding to the twitter version + extras. cw: blood, violence, dismemberment (nothing too graphic, more standard monster-fighting fare).

i love amy (completed): school loner strikes an unlikely friendship with the girl known (and feared) for her violent tendencies and single-minded obsession with the school prince. cute but striking and skilled art with a surprisingly nuanced handling of trauma and neurodivergence. cw: attempted child murder, animal death (non-graphic). there are also depictions of standard yandere fare (kidnapping, torture basements) but they're always presented comedically.

i see you, aizawa-san! (ongoing): girl who steadfastly pretends not to see ghosts meets one she just can't seem to ignore: a deceased classmate and former j-pop idol, who has taken to haunting their classroom. ft. art that harkens back to classic shoujo and a supernatural mystery centred on the relationship between the two leads--that one of them can't seem to remember. cw: blood, body horror.

school zone girls (on hiatus): slice of life yuri comedy ft. a massive interconnected web of girls spanning at least three schools. it juggles gut-busting comedy with genuine heartfelt moments of character growth and connection and expresses it all through a solid, dynamic art style. the sprawling cast also makes for incredible outsider pov moments that lets us really appreciate how far some characters have gotten. this genuinely motivated me to revamp how i approached ensemble casts for my ocs.

brides of iberis (completed): wedding planner unenthusiastic about her engagement falls in love with a bride she's taken as a client. bittersweet but deeply loving; and so compassionate to each and every character, even the men the female leads have relationships with. cw: infidelity.

destroy it all and love me in hell! (ongoing): model student finds her miserable, tightly controlled life unraveling after being blackmailed by the class truant into indulging her ugliest impulses. toxic yuri extravaganza eleganza between two girls desperate for escape and the catharsis of fucking! shit! up!!! also hits that sweet sweet "love triangle as a conflict of ideals" beat. cw: blackmail, coercion, bullying, violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, adult/minor relationship.

yuri is forbidden for the yuri otaku (completed): passionate himejoshi enrolls in an all-girls private school to observe class s yuri in action, but never to engage in it herself--at least, until a misunderstanding wins her the resident gyaru's heart. a surprisingly poignant exploration of being queer in a repressive society and experiencing your queerness through the safety of unobtainable fantasy.

the superstar idol crushes on me today too (ongoing): failed idol-slash-middling radio personality finds an unwanted superfan in the country's biggest superstar. explores the merit of pursuing your artistic passions in the face of repeated failure, and what makes an emotional anchor in the fraught seas of showbiz. they are also just so so funny. what if i emphatically declare you my rival in show business but you've been in love with me since you saw me in a cooking show as a child actor and you take any excuse to spend time with me and have my attention with blinding enthusiasm

normality and monsters (ongoing): outcast weirdo witnesses the class idol devour their homeroom teacher in one bite and begs to be trained in the art of appearing normal. the art is snappy and charismatic, the monster design is properly grotesque, and the friendship of convenience between the two leads teeters between overcoming the monster's nature and just being a prelude to the monster acquiring a new meatsuit. cw: blood, gore, death, body horror.

a monster wants to eat me (ongoing): suicidal girl meets carnivore mermaid who promises to eat her if she develops a desire to live. it's been a while since i read this one, but the monster designs are once again sick as fuck and the drama of being cared for by a creature that finds you tantalizing is sooo juicy. cw: suicidal ideation, blood, gore, violence, body horror.

liar satsuki can see death (completed): high schooler who can see corpses before the death occurs strives to save as many lives as possible despite being branded a liar by the entire student body. this and ryouko's other manga, a walk to death, are pretty banging declarations on the value of living ironically (or maybe aptly) wrapped in so much death. blanket cw for blood, gore and death bc i tell you every mini-arc somebody dies in a fun new way and we'd be here all day if we listed them out.

anthology:

i'm the villainess but i'm being captured by the heroine?!: an anthology featuring heroines of otome games swerving hard and sweeping the villainess off her feet. i am such a sucker for villainess yuri. mean women forever. my favourite chapters are vol. 1 ch.1 and vol. 2 chs. 1 and 4.

honourable mentions:

my idol sits the next desk over! (completed): loner idol otaku ends up deskmates with her oshi and between jealous sabotage from a rival stan and the herculean task of acting normal around your fave, lands herself in the first and closest friend group of her life. one girl does explicitly have romantic feelings for another girl, but i bumped it down here because it isn't explored to the extent it could have been. it felt like it was setting up a slow burn only to end abruptly. do not recommend if you want a love story, do recommend if you want lonely people forging deep and enduring bonds of friendship.

the one within the villainess (ongoing): the villainess of an otome game reawakens for her condemnation and sets off on a path of vengeance for the sake of the beloved transmigrator who's occupied her body for years. it's ostensibly het, but to hear the way that the villainess speaks of her transmigrator, the first person to love her wholeheartedly and wish for her happiness and so inadvertently prevent her from becoming the hollow bitter woman she originally grew into...... like. that is yuri. like what if i knew your life in its entirety and loved you for it and i found myself in the position to give you the happiness i always wished for you to have. what if we wrote fix-it fic for each other on the fabric of the universe. what if we never even had a conversation but we knew each other the best and loved each other most. and we were both girls. do you understand why i'm insane about them

[redmeet]

I AM ASKING ABOUT IT!!!

macheresin my beloved slutty besties

yay! the fic is actually rooster/hangman + phoenix/bob! and I'll give you the run down below the cut because uhhhh there's a lot. it's an idea that amy @floydshaw and I came up with when we watched coyote ugly together recently and woof it's gotten out of hand

it initially came about because amy was like omg what if coyote got his callsign because he used to BE a coyote. and then for me it turned into a complete AU thing where none of the characters (the whole squad feature in the fic) know each other through Top Gun/missions but Jake, Javy, Nat and Bob are all still in the navy (and are still Top Gun pilots) but get into trouble and put on probation where they're grounded for x amount of time or until they can make x amount of money. so to make money they work at a Navy bar (which is still called the Hard Deck because hello, perfect euphemism) and make money by dancing on the bar for everyone coyote ugly style. Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz etc arrive on shore leave and decide to go to this bar that everyone is talking about and Rooster sees Jake and is like. who the fuck is THAT.

and to skip over a whole lot of sex and plot, they fall in love!

but the pretty woman aspect of it is that Rooster wants to help Jake (and the others, I guess) get back in the air. somehow.

[katebishopsbow]

NEVER HAVE I EVER • BRADLEY BRADSHAW (part i)

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader (18+)

summary: a game of never have i ever leads to bradley (as well as everyone) finding out that you are a virgin. the thought of being your first drives him a little crazy, and he can’t wait to ruin your sweet innocence.

tags: explicit sexual content (minors dni), slight angst, fingering, praise kink, spit, inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, age gap, dom!bradley, no mentions of y/n, established relationship

word count: 4.8k

read never have i ever (part ii) here

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────── “Never have I ever had sex.”

The group simultaneously groans at the lame “Never Have I Ever” question, rolling their eyes in feigned annoyance as they finish their tequila shots unwillingly. Hangman throws his head back in an amused laugh, taking a shot of his own while he chuckles at his successful attempt to get everyone to drink - a perfect way to get the night started.

While all of them are too busy either chasing the tequila with a drink of their choice or complaining about Hangman’s lame antics, nobody notices how you were the only one out of the entire group who didn’t take a shot. You glance around anxiously while praying to all the almighty gods out there that no one spots you, though it seems that your prayers are unanswered when Hangman calls out your name.

“You didn’t take a shot,” he points out before pouring himself another tequila shot, eyeing your still full shot glass with a suspicious stare. Damn him for being so observant. You wrack your brain to come up with a witty remark, a vague excuse - anything that can get you out of blatantly admitting that you are indeed a virgin to your fellow aviators, but it is almost as if your mind has stopped working, finding yourself at a complete loss for words.

It isn’t like there’s anything wrong with being a virgin, and you know that it isn’t uncommon to lack sexual experience at your age - still being in your early twenties and all. It’s just that growing up in a strict household with religious parents and living in a small little town where sex has always been considered a taboo subject all your life, you aren’t particularly comfortable talking about your sex life - or lack thereof - so openly. Especially not in front of your comrades who are older and definitely more experienced.

In your peripheral vision, you can see Rooster watching you from across the pool table with an unfathomable look on his face, his intense gaze making you swallow nervously. You can feel all eyes on you, their curious stares doing nothing to help with your blank state of mind.

“Didn’t you tell us that you had a boyfriend back in high school or something?” Coyote said, referring to that night when you drunkenly shared stories about your shitty ex-boyfriend - including that one time when he gave you a promise ring with his ex’s initials engraved on it for your anniversary, hoping somehow you wouldn’t notice the recycled gift. “Yeah, but we just… we didn’t do much,” you mutter out a short answer, shrugging your shoulders in feigned nonchalance while hoping that the conversation can move on to something else, anything else.

Hangman’s lips pull up into a slight smirk at your reply, an expression you come to know all too well. “Don’t worry, our dear old Rooster here is an excellent teacher,” he jokes while raising his eyebrows suggestively, poking fun at the new couple in the group. You clear your throat with an awkward cough and take a gulp of your beer, not particularly comfortable with discussing your sex life with Bradley to your friends.

You know that he means no harm though. It’s just Hangman being Hangman, everybody sitting there knows that, including Rooster. Despite knowing that this is merely one of Hangman’s lame, harmless jokes, it didn’t do much to suppress the anger simmering in the pit of Rooster’s stomach. “Hey man, cut it out,” he warned through gritted teeth, his tone authoritative as he tightened his jaw in irritation. Realizing that he has overstepped, Hangman raises his hand in surrender and mutters a quick “sorry” before swiftly resuming the game of “Never Have I Ever”.

The game continues on through the night, the awkward moment where it was revealed that you are a virgin - though not explicitly - has long been forgotten by your friends after a few rounds of drinks. You remain a participant in the game, only taking shots at the more mundane questions like “Never have I ever broken a bone” or “Never have I ever given out a fake number to a guy” whereas the others are taking shots at things like having a threesome or calling people the wrong name during sex - heck, even Bob has taken a shot at the question “Never have I ever been given a lap dance”

It is then when you realize just how different you are from your fellow aviators, whether it be your lack of sexual experience or your relatively dull life. While they have all these crazy stories and adventures to share, you have basically nothing. You find yourself suddenly feeling out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb, and being excluded from the conversation while you watch them downing shots at things so daring that you’ve never even dreamt of doing.

To make matters worse while you throw yourself a little pity party, you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you the entire night, right after your little confession. He gazes into you with a blank, stoic expression, his stare only leaving you occasionally when he stands up to get more drinks for the others. The aircon inside the Hard Deck is blasting, leaving the bar so chilly that even Phoenix had her leather jacket on - yet somehow you can feel yourself heating up despite only wearing a flimsy sundress.

Having just started dating Bradley roughly two months ago, you never mention to him that you are a virgin - the topic simply never came up. And while you know you must be overthinking because the Rooster that you know and come to fall in love with would never judge you for something like this, you can’t help the worry silently gnawing at your mind. Does Bradley mind that you are a virgin? Is he less attracted to you now that he knows you lack sexual experience? 

You try to shift your focus back to the game, hoping that your friends’ ridiculous “Never Have I Ever” questions can help distract you, but you find it difficult to indulge in the game now that a gloomy raincloud sits above your head, ruining your mood and refusing to leave despite your best efforts.

The night ended with the majority of the group completely wasted after consuming an unhealthy amount of alcohol in their game of “Never Have I Ever”, downing shots like no tomorrow as if they are college kids on a Friday night. You can already imagine the terrible hangover all of them will have the next day, and you might even feel slightly sorry for them if they haven’t brought it on themselves. 

Hangman can barely stand even with the help of Phoenix and Bob, mumbling out some incoherent nonsense while the trio stumbles out of the bar. Payback manages to call an uber after struggling for five minutes to type in his passcode and fetches himself, Fanboy, and Coyote a ride back to base. While the last of the drunk ones get in the car, waving lazily as the vehicle drives away, the only two sober ones in the group are left. You didn’t have much to drink to begin with, considering how you haven’t done most of the crazy shit they said. Whereas Rooster opted out of the game after two rounds, stating that he needs to stay sober to watch over the group in case anything happens.

“Let me walk you home,” Rooster says to you while offering you his hand, his lips pulling up into a small smile when you don’t hesitate to intertwine your fingers together, feeling the warmth of his hand envelope your own. You live at an apartment off-base within walking distance of the bar, and Rooster always makes sure to walk you home after every night out at the Hard Deck. The ten-minute walk to your apartment is usually the time when you two catch up, enjoy your alone time and talk about everything as he presses kisses on your moon-illuminated cheeks every now and then, telling you how beautiful you look.

Tonight is different though, since Rooster is staying silent with a somewhat tensed look across his features. The summer breeze feels unpleasantly colder than usual, the moon looking exceptionally dull in the dark abyss of the sky, and you find yourself falling quiet for the rest of the way home - no longer in your usual bright mood to joke around with your boyfriend.

It doesn’t take long before you arrive outside your apartment, fishing for your keys inside your bag before unlocking the door. Rooster remains outside as he watches you enter your home and switch the living room lights on, ready to bid you goodnight when you interject, “Do you wanna come in?” He stares at you for a few seconds, his brows quirking up almost as if he is contemplating his choices, and finally nods at your invitation.

You let him in before swiftly shutting the door behind him, feeling your heart quicken its pace ever so slightly as if this is your first time having him over. “You want anything to drink?” you ask when you grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, finishing it in several gulps to wash away the unpleasant taste of alcohol on your tongue. “I’m good,” Rooster answers simply, not bothering to look up at you while he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Baby,” you sigh quietly, and your boyfriend finally glances up at you at your usual pet name for him. “Is there something wrong?” Rooster shakes his head at your question, blinking up at you from his seat on the couch with a puzzled look. “What? No,” he answers with a truthful expression, and you almost got fooled if it isn’t for the way his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Normally you would let it slide and drop the matter, preferring to let Rooster open up to you when he feels comfortable and at his own pace. However, after being out for the whole night, you simply do not have it in you to beat around the bush anymore. There is clearly something up with your boyfriend and you two are going to deal with this right here, right now. “You’ve been quiet this entire evening!” you sigh for the umpteenth time that day, staring your exhausted eyes down at the floor while you fumble with your fingers absentmindedly. Rooster falls silent once again, struggling to find the right words to say.

Dreadful thoughts squirm at the back of your mind, and despite your best effort to convince yourself to stop overthinking, you can’t help the worry that sits inside your head. “Is this because of me… being a virgin? Did you want someone more experienced?” you ask in a dejected voice, your lips turning into a small pout as your sentence slowly fades into nothingness.

Going into the relationship, you know that he has way more experience than you - considering the relatively large age gap between you two. You’ve always thought that it would not affect you, but judging by your boyfriend’s reaction throughout the night, you guess that’s not the case.

Rooster watches you from across the living room, a look of bewilderment on his face while the gears in his head turn slowly, struggling to comprehend what you just said. “Wait what?” he blurted out, confusion evident in his tone. “Honey… of course not!” he hurriedly rises to his feet and walks over to you, but you refuse to meet his eyes. “You think I would love you any less because of this?” Rooster’s delicate fingers reach for your chin, softly tilting your head up so that you are looking at him while he places his other hand on the small of your back. His gaze is gentle, sincere, his eyes holding so much warmth and adoration for you that you almost feel stupid for even thinking that he would mind your lack of experience. 

“I don’t know — why did you stare at me for the whole night then? You kept giving me this look… right after I said that I am a virgin,” you mutter underneath your breath. “I was just thinking about some stuff…” he answers vaguely while averting his eyes, briefly running his fingers through his disheveled hair. “About what?” you ask again, determined to get to the bottom of this, and you can feel the frustration grow within you when he falls quiet once more. “Tell me right now, Bradley Bradshaw,” you demand as you address him by his full name, adamant to know what’s been on your boyfriend’s mind that was bothering him so much.

Rooster exhales a breathy sigh before his gaze returns to you, still not speaking a single word, but you swear you see something in his eyes change. The tension in the room suddenly feels different, a slight shift in the air, and your heart races at the thought. He slowly leans into your neck to breathe in your scent, placing a chaste kiss on your skin before he asks, “You wanna know what I was thinking about the whole night, baby? Hmm?” His voice is soft and mellow, each word sweet like honey while he places a few more open-mouthed kisses on your neck, making your breath hitch. Feeling your pulse quicken at the sensation of his lips against you, you exhale shakily before giving him a hesitant nod.

You try your hardest to remain unbothered, not wanting him to know just how worked up you are getting from his kisses alone - though you can already feel your mind getting slightly hazy at the proximity. With him being this close to you, it feels as though every sense of yours is heightened, cranked up to the max. You can feel the heat of his skin against your own, the warmth of his arms through the thin fabric of your dress, and the way his mustache lightly grazes your neck. You can smell the faint citrusy aroma from the shampoo he likes to use, as well as the familiar scent of his favorite cologne - the one you got him for his birthday.

“I was wondering… has anyone ever made you come before?” Rooster whispers into your neck, hot breath fanning onto your skin with each word that falls from his lips. Your muscles tense up at his revelation - never in a million years did you expect that as his answer. “What? I—I don’t know,” you stammer nervously, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. “Yes or no, baby?” His sultry tone makes you feel like you’re becoming out of breath, the oxygen in your lungs depleting with each passing second. You inhale a shuddering breath before slowly shaking your head, certain that your voice will start tremoring the second you open your mouth to speak.

His lips pull up into a smirk as he watches you, clearly noticing just how affected you are getting by his words. It feels almost wrong how turned on he is by you, by the look of innocence on your face, by the thought of corrupting you. “The entire night… I was thinking about being the first to be inside you. The first to make you come on my fingers, my tongue, my cock.” You can feel the wind getting knocked out of you, each word sending an explosion of tingles down your spine and straight to your core, leaving you completely breathless.

To hear those sinful words come out of your boyfriend’s mouth - the man who is always so gentle and sweet to you - feels so wrong but so right at the same time. His lewd words flood into your mind, occupying each and every one of your thoughts and quickly morphing into vivid imaginations. You imagine having his fingers pumping inside you steadily as he whispers praises into your ear, coaxing broken moans out of you while his skillful tongue laps feverishly against your folds - god, the things you’d do just to have him touch you.

Your mouth goes dry when he trails tender kisses along your neck, teeth scratching against your skin, and you just barely manage to hold in a whimper when he nibbles lightly on your earlobes. Rooster pulls away momentarily and stares into you with darkened eyes, hazy and clouded with lust. He slides his hands around your waist to pull you closer, his eyes never leaving yours as he leans forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. Your bodies press against each other heatedly, the warmth of his embrace enveloping your entire being.

Circling your arms around his neck, you thread your fingers into his sandy hair and give an experimental tug, relishing the throaty groan that escapes his lips. “Tell me baby, have you ever touched yourself?” he leans back from the kiss to ask, letting his gaze drag from your flushed cheeks down to the revealing neckline of your dress. “I guess… sometimes,” you admit to him, voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. His thumb gently brushes over your slick bottom lips, and he swears that the innocent look in your eyes will soon drive him to insanity. 

Rooster’s fingers slowly trace along your waist, loving the way your breath hitches with every delicate stroke of his hand - and he can’t help but wonder what other kinds of sound you’ll make when he touches you elsewhere. “Tell me, darlin’. Who do you think about when you’re fucking yourself with those pretty little fingers?” He pushes himself even closer to you as he awaits your response, letting out a deep groan when he feels your body press against his erection, the friction between his jeans and your sundress providing minimal relief.

Your mind drifts back to the countless nights when you had your hands down your panties, eyes screwed shut, pleasuring yourself with clumsy, unskilled strokes that can never quite give you the pleasure you yearn for as you imagine it was Rooster doing it instead. “You,” you answer truthfully, almost afraid that you have said something wrong when Rooster’s fingers come to a sudden halt. Your name falls from his lips in a quiet whisper, the way he says it fogging up your head with arousal even more. Slowly reaching for your chin, he pulls you close toward him so that your lips are barely touching. “You will be the death of me,” he breathes against your lips as his hand lowers to the hemline of your dress, fumbling lazily with the thin fabric.

Rooster’s hand inches lower and lower until he finally slides it underneath your dress, fingers gently caressing the inside of your thighs. His fingertips feel scorching hot against your skin, setting your body ablaze and igniting a fire deep inside you, one that can only be put out by his touch. Your breath catches in your throat when his fingers trail along the apex of your thighs and settles over the elastic of your underwear. His touch is ever so delicate, slow and unhurried as if he’s deliberately trying to tease you, as if the damned smirk on his face isn’t teasing enough already.

“You look so pretty right now,” he rasps out, running his digits over the thin cotton fabric at a tantalizingly slow pace, leaving you wanting more. There is a familiar smugness that dawns upon his features when he feels the dampened fabric, fingertips drawing small circles against the wet spot, earning a pleasured gasp from you as your eyelids screw shut. You bite your lips in an attempt to suppress the sounds threatening to spill from your lips, but eventually, you fail when he presses harder against your core, determined to hear your pretty moans. “Rooster, please. Touch me,” you plead with a trembling voice, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you like he means it, and Rooster has never loved his callsign more than this moment when he hears it fall from your lips. 

“Patience, darlin’.” He leans in to connect your lips, and you moan into the kiss when you feel his tongue swiping against your bottom lip, licking inside your mouth. It feels heavenly to have his fingers touch your clothed core, but you want more, much more, you want it so bad you can almost cry, so you reach for his arm and give it an eager tug. “Bradley, just—please!” Each of your words is laced with a kind of desperation Rooster has never seen or heard before, and it sends a shock of electricity through him.

“Relax for me. I’ll make you feel real good,” he says in a hushed voice and finally slides his hand inside your underwear, slicking up his digits with your wetness as he strokes up and down your folds. The sensation is so electrifying that your eyes fly shut, your back arching off the wall with a sharp inhale. A desperate whine escapes your lips when he pushes up a little higher, rubbing soft circles over your clit. “You like that, baby?” he murmurs between kisses, his eyes lingering on your flushed face as he continues to touch the spot between your thighs. You give him an urgent nod, both hands fisting tightly on his shirt as you pray that he never stops.

When he slowly pushes a finger inside your cunt, you can almost feel your eyes roll to the back of your head in pure ecstasy, tiny sparks of pleasure slithering up your veins and fogging up your head. Broken moans fall from your lips with every stroke of his finger, and your body shivers at the way his fingertips glide along your walls. “You’re so fucking tight.”

He pulls away for a second, the sudden loss of contact making you whine involuntarily, and you probably would’ve been so embarrassed if it isn’t for how turned on you are right now. With Rooster right in front of you, you simply can’t bring yourself to care anymore. “Shh, it’s okay.” Arousal floods through your brain as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, wetting his digits with spit while he savors the taste of you on him. “You taste so good,” he sighs contently before lowering his slick hand to your core once again, this time sliding two fingers inside you.

You hiss at the slight stretch and tilt your head back against the wall, whining at the slightly painful yet somehow pleasurable sensation. His fingers feel entirely different from your own, much thicker than your delicate ones, his movement deft and skilled. None of the sleepless nights you spent with nothing but your shitty vibrator and your imagination to keep you company can ever compare to this moment. With Rooster’s fingers knuckles deep inside of your throbbing core, thrusting steadily as his thumb occasionally rub lazy circles against your clit - this all feels too good to be true.

“Good girl. You’re taking my fingers so well,” he leans in to whisper in your ear, and you swear you begin seeing stars at the praise. His breath hitches in his throat when he feels your cunt tightening around his finger, and he lets out a deep grunt before asking, “You like it when I call you that, hmm? My good fucking girl.” Strings of incoherent words pour out of your lips with every steady stroke of his hand, leaving the both of you breathless while he watches you being ruined. The way your eyebrows become furrowed, mouth ajar while you beg him not to stop - everything seems like it came straight out of his wet dream.

Rooster wants to ruin you, to corrupt you, to make you come so hard that you’ll forget your name. “Fuck, Bradley!” you gasp when he begins curling his fingers inside you, the pleasurable sensation sending a trail of shivers down your spine. The living room is filled with your sinful moans and his labored breathing, along with the obscene sounds of his fingers thrusting inside you.

There is a familiar tightening sensation at the pit of your stomach, yet this time it feels much more intense. Rooster tears his gaze away from your face to glance down with his half-lidded eyes, almost hypnotized by the way his fingers disappear inside you with every stroke. The confinement of his jeans is becoming painful as he imagines replacing his fingers with his cock instead, feeling his erection hardening even more. The pace of his thrusts begins speeding up, and he knows you’re getting close by the way your moans grow breathier and more high-pitched.

“Shit, oh shit—right there, fuck!” you mewl desperately when he starts drawing tight circles over your clit, feeling your thighs begin to quiver at the pleasure threatening to overcome you. “That feels good, hmm? Didn’t know you have such a dirty little mouth,” he chuckles and delivers a light smack on your ass, surprised at the choked moan you let out, and he makes a mental note to do that again the next time you two get intimate.

With the combination of the summer heat and your heated bodies pressing together, your forehead is starting to get covered with a sheen of sweat. Rooster stares at your glistening skin and flushed cheeks, your lips red and swollen from biting on them too hard - he wants to devour you so bad. “You’re getting close, darlin’, come for me,” he says under his breath when he feels your walls begin to convulse, clenching around his fingers in an almost rhythmic way.

The knot inside your stomach tightens even more, the pressure building inside you since the second he lays his fingers on you is starting to reach its peak. “Just a little more,” he coos before placing a kiss on the glistening skin of your neck, his eyes fixated on your face as he pumps in and out of your core, determined to bring you to your sweet release. You clutch onto his shirt as if your life depended on it, your whimpers and moans becoming so uncontrollably loud that you are certain your neighbor will be able to hear you. 

“Oh god—Bradley, I’m gonna—“ Before you can even finish your sentence, the tightening coil within you snaps and sends you tumbling over the edge, the feeling of ecstasy blinding you. Waves of pleasure crash over you so mercilessly that you almost feel like you are drowning, running out of oxygen in a sea of pure and utter bliss. Your body seizes up at the overwhelming sensation, never once have you experienced an orgasm this intense before, and now you wonder how you were able to survive the past twenty-something years without Bradley.

“That’s it… there you go… good girl.” You can hear the faint voice of your boyfriend, though you can’t bring yourself to reply just yet to his seemingly muffled words. While you are still in your dazed state, Rooster relishes the way your cunt pulsates around his fingers, still pumping slowly inside you to ride out your orgasm. You look absolutely wrecked. Pupils blown and eyes hazy with lust, drops of sweat cascading down your forehead, chest heaving up and down from the lungfuls of air you are taking, and one strap of your dress falling off your shoulders. While you will most certainly argue otherwise, he thinks you cannot be more beautiful than right now.

A good minute has passed before you feel yourself slowly recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm you just experienced - from his fingers only, too. Rooster reaches up to cradle your cheeks gently, pulling you into a sweet kiss despite the sinful thoughts running across his mind. Needless to say, his pants became even tighter now that he has witnessed your orgasm.

You let out a soft hiss at the over-sensitivity when he pulls out his fingers, glistening with your arousal as he brings them up to his lips and sucks. “Fuuck—you taste fucking delicious,” he groans after he pulls away with a lewd pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to his slick fingers. The erotic scene happening before you makes your knees weak, and you are certain you would’ve fallen over if it isn’t for the arm wrapped around you.

“Bradley…” you lean forward to whisper quietly into his ears, the feeling of arousal bubbling within you once again when you feel his hardness pressing firmly into your stomach - a sign that he is just as affected by all of this as you are. “Yes, darlin’?” he inhales a shuddering breath, hissing slightly when your delicate fingers dance across his zipper, fumbling with the metal piece but not quite pulling it down.

“Take me to bed.”

[betweenandbeloved]

The Old City

Today was our last day in Jerusalem and I have to say, it was bittersweet.  I will not miss walking on the hard stones all day to the point that my feet want to fall off, but I will miss the amazing markets and the religious significance everywhere we went.

The morning started by walking from our hotel up to the Old City where we went to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This is the place home to what remains of Golgotha, where Jesus hung on the cross, as well as what remains of Jesus’ tomb.  While the church today is inside the walls of the city, the place was outside the original city walls during Jesus’ time so this space was most certainly where the Crucifixion and Resurrection happened.

The hill was much larger in Jesus’ time but it was cut away in order to build the church to preserve the spot.  There was a Greek Orthodox altar built on top of “the exact spot where Jesus was crucified,” and if you haven’t caught on to my skepticism yet, here we go again... You could stick your had through a very tiny hole and touch the rock where it happened, but we don’t really know exactly where on Golgotha Jesus’s cross was stuck.  It was cool to be able to feel the rock, but it honestly made me sad to see how little was left of what was originally this giant mountain of rock.

Same with Jesus’ tomb. We stood in line for 20-30 minutes to get about 15 seconds worth of time inside the tomb.  The mausoleum that was erected on top was recently renovated and restored, there’s a documentary somewhere I want to find about it, but during the renovation, scientists were able to date the original rock in the tomb to the first century which means it’s pretty likely this was where Jesus was laid to rest.

(Tomb of Jesus)

Now, I want to take a minute to think about what might have happened because we’ve learned a lot about the culture and tried to picture everything in Jesus’ time.  So Jesus died, his body was washed and cleaned, and then laid to rest in a tomb carved from rock with a giant bolder pushed in front of it.  Based on the climate around here, it was probably cold and very dark in there. So what the heck do you think happened when Jesus opened his eyes after being dead? Was he glowing? Did he roll away the stone? Did he just walk through the stone?  Did he acknowledge the other graves that were surely near his? (We walked through one of the catacombs - Jesus was not buried in isolation).  

Visiting these biblically significant sites just makes me wonder.  Seeing the place brings it to life in my mind that you don’t get from the pages of the book. It makes me wonder what else happened in these places and these encounters that were not written down in the Gospels.

After spending some time in the church, we walked from the Armenian to the Jewish quarter to get to the City of David.  At this point, I’m so familiar with the geography of the city that I pointed out the route to our tour guide and he let me lead (sorta). It was kind of funny, he was like “yeah, you’re right! You’re tour guide now.”

The City of David was originally a Jebusite city but David conquered it and made it his home and the eventual capital of Jerusalem (1 Chronicles 15).  We were able to see the ruins of his palace as well as the water system that he used to conquer the city through.  At the archaeological dig site, more than 50 clay seals were found with names of important people who worked for the King that are mentioned in the book of Isaiah (chapter 38?).

The tunnels and water system of the city date to the 18th century BCE and are pretty well preserved.  We went deep into the tunnels to learn how David captured the city through the water system (2 Samuel 5).  The kings following David used the same tunnel, up until Hezekiah who decided to build a new water shaft to keep the water inside the city and make them less exposed to invasion.

I had the opportunity to venture through the 1800 foot long tunnel that still flows with water today.  The water was mostly up to my calves but at the deepest part did get just about up to my waist.  It was a very narrow, and at some points very shallow, tunnel. I kept knocking into one side and felt like a pinball bouncing back and forth. It was a lot of fun and a really cool experience.

The tunnel lets out into the Pool of Siloam which was a public ritual bath in Jesus time.  We know this because of John 9 when Jesus put mud on the blind man's eyes and told him to wash in the Pool of Siloam (vs. 7), restoring his sight.  This was one of two miracles Jesus performed in a ritual bath in Jerusalem.

The second miracle happened at the Bethesda Pools where Jesus asked the disabled man “do you want to be made well,” before healing the man in the bath (John 5). Located near the pools is St. Anne’s Crusader Church which is known for it’s acoustics.  We spent some time in devotion singing in the church and I have to say, it was pretty cool.

We ended our scheduled programming for the day by walking the Via Dolorosa, the Stations of the Cross or Way of the Cross.  This may or may not have been the route or even a similar one. It didn’t become a “thing to do” until the 18th century but has since been a place of pilgrimage for Christians.  We wandered through stations 1-8, having technically done 9-14 in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre earlier in the morning.  Different people do different stations but what I got was:

1) Jesus was condemned by Pontious Pilate. 2) Jesus carries the cross. 3) The first time Jesus fell. 4) Jesus meeting with his mother. 5) Simon the pilgrim helping Jesus after the soldier asked him to. 6) Veronica using her veil to wipe Jesus’ face of sweat and blood. 7) Jesus fell for the second time. 8) Jesus speaks to the women saying “daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me” (Luke 23:28). 9) The third time Jesus fell. 10) Jesus stripped of his garments. 11) Crucifixion. 12) Jesus dies. 13) Jesus’ body is removed from the cross. 14) Jesus is laid in the tomb.

We did things in a funk order, but it was so crowded that I’m glad we were able to do what we could when we did.  I honestly can’t imagine coming to this place in the summer with all the tourists, you probably wouldn’t be able to do half the things we got to just because of the lines and the crowds. So, take note, do a tour of the Holy Land in January!

When we got to station 8 located at the edge of the Christian and Muslim Quarters, we were set loose for free time in the city. I ventured around with my friend Emily and ended up meeting up with our other friend Rick to enjoy some time shopping and seeing what we could.  Emily and I ended up at the Church of Peter Gallicantu which was a cute little thing hidden behind a hobbit door that you kind of had to crawl through.  The first church was built in 457 and was destroyed (like most things in the city and country), but another was built by the Crusaders in 1102.  But then, of course, that was also destroyed and wasn’t rebuilt until 1931.  A golden rooster signifies the cock crowing in relation to Peter’s denial of Jesus.

It was a lot of fun wandering around the Old City and doing some shopping.  We met the nicest man Esah who ran an olive wood shop with handmade items that come from 15 different families in the community.  I got some beautiful items from him, but of course, they’re already packed.  He was thoughtful and generous, we didn’t even have to bargain, he gave us a great deal because we were Christians and because I told him I was going to be a Lutheran pastor. 

I enjoyed a break from learning and loved getting to just explore and wander around in a small group. There were so many beautiful things I could have bought, but I love what I got and I’m proud I didn’t go crazy with buying things I didn’t need.

Tomorrow we will leave for Jordan and I’m excited to head to a new country and learn about the biblical significance of Jordan.  If you read my earlier blog from before the trip, tomorrow we go to Mount Nebo where God showed Moses the promised land - so I’m super excited about that.  Until then, let’s hope the internet works to post this, maybe you’ll get some pictures and if not, I’ll try to get you some when I have better internet. 

Thanks for following along and sharing your thoughts about my journey! Just three more days left in the Holy Land.

[calliopesquill]

A Year in the Life - Chapter 4

Okay, I couldn’t resist. I was going to wait until tomorrow to post the next chapter but I have been going so hard working on later chapters today I had to post it early.

Thank you all so much for your support and all of your wonderful comments. Talking with you and getting your feedback has really made my week. I know a lot of readers are leery about oc-inserts so I really want to thank you for giving Nell a chance. One of the most comments I have gotten is how much you like her and how well she fits in the canon world. That is something I work really hard to achieve in my characters so I am so glad that you all like what I have done with her.

And now without further delay, on with the story!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4: Once Upon a Time

         Miguel spent his lunch hour that monday in the library. After discovering that they didn’t have a particularly wide selection of graphic novels he turned to the internet. Nell had said that she’d done a webcomic as well. Maybe her website would help him figure out who he was dealing with.  Just because Nell seemed decent so far didn’t mean she actually was. His experience with Ernesto De la Cruz had taught him that. Hadn’t De la Cruz been kind at first? Hadn’t he saved him from drowning? But behind the smiles and dramatic persona was a selfish, self-absorbed creature who was more than willing to kill to get what he wanted.

         Not that Miguel thought that Nell would be anywhere as bad as De la Cruz had been, but he wanted to get a little more background on her before he decided to tell her anything else.

         A quick Google search had given him the basics. Penelope Rey. (Miguel snorted at that. Penelope? No wonder she went by Nell.) Twenty-five years old. Born in Kelowna, Canada. (Okay, so she wasn’t American, but he’d been close.) Published her first stand-alone graphic novel at twenty-two and recently released the last volume of the trilogy she’d been working on. Most of her books were of the urban-fantasy sort, or contained some hints of “other”. The webcomic, which she’d started while she was in university, was about a magical girl who discovers that she has inadvertently been working for an evil power the whole time, and sets about on a quest of redemption to make things right.

         Not really his thing (he was more into the masked-crusader/folk-hero/luchador genre) but the splash pages and banners on the website intrigued him enough that he clicked the link that would take him to the first page of the comic. Right away he was hooked. The art-style was dramatic but not cluttered or overdone, and her heroine spoke like someone he would meet on the street, with only a minimum of cliche comic book-style dialogue. Her characters were diverse and compelling and her villain…. Miguel shuddered. Oh she was so creepy! Sly and manipulative and calculating under a veneer of support and encouragement. You didn’t even get the hint that there was something wrong about her until you were over a year into the plotline.

         He had just gotten to the part of the story where the main character discovered she’d been played when the five-minute warning bell rang.

         Miguel jumped, almost falling out of his chair. How had the lunch hour gone by so fast? Quickly he closed the browser, logging off of the computer as he grabbed his book bag, then took off out of the library to get to class.

         Miguel’s talk of alebrijes stuck with Nell, and after a few days of independent research she decided to approach approach one of the craftsmen from the plaza.

         Sebastien Berardo had been in the business for many years. Some of his earliest memories were of sitting with his father in his workshop, watching him work. He learned the craft at his father’s side, how to shape and sand the wood to bring out the fantastic creatures inside, and the types of paints and glazes that brought out the best color. He also learned how to deal with the public, from the closest of neighbors to the loudest of tourists.

         When Nell first started asking questions he started with the basic history of the craft.

         Alebrijes had first been created by the artist Pedro Linares in the early 1930’s. The story went that he had become very ill, and had dreamed of a beautiful forest populated by incredible, colorful hybrid creates that called themselves alebrijes. Horned roosters, winged snakes and donkeys, a thousand creatures of infinite strange and wonderful combinations. Inspired, he began to create carnival masks and religious figures of these creatures to sell in the markets of Mexico City. His unique pieces had attracted the attention of a prominent gallery owner who wanted to showcase the pieces, and even Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo sought him out for commissions. Now most alebrije figures were carved from copal wood, in the pre-Hispanic woodcarving tradition of the local Zapotec culture.

         “And you still make all of these by hand?” Nell asked, crouching to take a closer look at the delicately articulated figure of a winged snake that was coiled upon the table.

         Sebastien nodded proudly. “Each piece is crafted in our family workshop. My son Filipe, he is studying art in university. He painted many of these.”

         “They’re beautiful. I love the colors.” It was like seeing an entire summer’s worth of color condensed into a single small figure. “At what point did they started becoming associated with spirit guides? By some of the descriptions they are kind of similar to the Aztec nagual.”

         “It is possible,” Sebastien conceded with an uncertain shrug. He’d never really considered that, but there were certainly some similarities.

         Nell liked the idea. After Miguel had first brought up the idea of spirit guides she’d ended up going on a bit of a research binge on the topic, compiling a series of notes about guardian spirits in world mythology. She’d been particularly intrigued by the the concept of the nagual, the Mesoamerican spirit guide or spiritual double. Depending on the myth, the nagual functioned as either a reflection of the self, or as a separate spiritual advisor. According to some of the myths that she’d found, a person’s nagual could even go wandering while they slept.

         Or in other words, they could astral project.

         There were also stories about shapeshifters but Nell was reasonably sure that wasn’t going to end up as part of her skill set.

         After a little more discussion on the history and process behind the art and history of the alebrije figures Nell decided to leave Sebastien to his work, but as she turned to leave one of the figures caught her eye. A small, brightly-painted bird.

         She couldn’t have stopped the grin that spread over her face if she tried. “Señor, how much is the crow?”

         Over the next few weeks Mariachi Plaza became the unofficial meeting spot for astral hang-outs. By this point Miguel had learned to successfully project while awake, and was confident enough in this new ability that their occasional late-night chat was often more friendly than lesson-like. Honestly it was nice just to be able to talk to someone and not worry about letting something slip and having them think he was crazy. He’d already made that mistake once with friends at school, and had had to play it off as a weird dream.

         At least will Nell he didn't have to worry about that.

         He grinned when she appeared across the plaza. "What, you couldn't sleep either?"

         "Nah. Finished some book planning and wanted to go for a walk. Then I saw what time it was and thought.... yeah this way is better."

         Miguel chuckled. He knew what it was like to get wrapped up in a project and lose all sense of time. How many times had he stayed up late working on a new song, forgetting entirely that he had class in the morning?

         “How was school?”

         “Fine,” he shrugged. “Annetta came to visit my music class yesterday. That was pretty cool.”

         “She’s the trumpet player, right? The one the violinist has that debilitating crush on.”

         “That’s the one. She played for us during class, then did sort of a tutorial session with the other trumpets.” God willing, they’d actually be able to stay in tune from now on. “You get any farther on your book?”

         "A bit, yeah. Started doing research on alebrijes and I found some really cool stuff.” She answered excitedly, eager to share what she’d found. “You know the Mayans and Aztecs had stories about spirit guides too? And some of the magic users in the old myths could astral project, just like us! So of course that turned into a crazy research binge. I swear I filled up an entire flash drive just with ideas for character alebrijes."

         "Sweet!" He grinned. "You'll have to show me later. I can tell you how they compare to the real thing."

         "The real -- Man, you've been holding out on me," she groaned, dropping onto the step of the gazebo to sit next to him. "You see alebrijes too?"

         Miguel shrugged. "You probably have too. They just look different this side of the bridge."

         "Different how?"

         "Different like.... You know, normal."

         That was interesting. She hadn't considered that guides could take different forms between worlds. That was something she'd have to think about later. "So there's a lot of alebrijes on the other side of the bridge?"

         "Loads," Miguel told her. "And they're huge! Well, some of them. I used to think they were just a myth, like vitamins--"

         "Vitamins are real, Miguel."

         "People keep saying that but I really don't think they are. Anyway," he continued. "They're, like, everywhere! Some people have them as, well not exactly pets, but they have ones that stay with them. There might be some wild ones but I didn't really see any."

         Oh God the curiosity was killing her. She wanted to respect his boundaries and not ask questions that he wouldn’t be comfortable answering, but she also really wanted to know what had happened. But just asking how the bridge worked wouldn’t hurt, would it? "So you just found the bridge and walked over?"

         Miguel gave a sheepish smile, rubbing one hand over his forearm in a nervous gesture. "Not exactly... It was an accident. Well, the first time was. I kind of....stole something."

         Nell stared. "You what? Damn, kid, what did you steal? Some cursed ancient idol or something?"

         "HA! No!" He laughed. "No, no, no. Nothing like that. It was a guitar."

         “A cursed guitar?”

         “No! The guitar wasn’t cursed. Nothing was cursed. I mean I thought I was for a while, and then I actually was for a while, but no.”

         Now she just blinked at him. “What… What? Okay. I am officially confused. You stole the guitar and it took you across the bridge. And then you got cursed?”

         “No. Taking the guitar got me cursed, but I crossed the bridge after. It’s… kind of a long story.” But maybe it was about time he told someone the truth. Miguel sighed, brushing one hand distractedly thought his hair as he hunched forward, bracing his arms across his knees. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about what happened, someone who would actually believe him.

         “I didn’t mean to steal it,” he told her. “Well, I did. But I was going to bring it back. I just wanted to play it once, here in the plaza.”

         It all came pouring out, the reason for the Rivera family’s ban on music and the events that led to him believing that Ernesto De la Cruz was his ancestor, trying to steal the guitar, and the curse that resulted.

         “Hold up, hold up,” Nell interrupted, holding up her hands in a ‘stop now’ gesture. “Your great-great-grandmother told you that if you didn’t give up music that she was going to let you die?”

         “She didn’t mean it that way,” Miguel said defensively. “She thought she was doing it to protect me. That music was dangerous. And I kind of did almost die three times that night.”

         “What?!”

         “Anyway, so I thought, fine, if the rest of my family refused to give me the blessing, I’d track down the one family member who might understand.”

         “Ernesto De la Cruz.”

         Miguel nodded.

         “Except he wasn’t your grandfather.”

         “Gracias a Dios.” Now that would truly be a nightmare, now that he knew what De la Cruz truly was. “But I didn’t know that at the time. So I ran off and tried to find him.”

         He told her how he met a shabby-looking skeleton who claimed to know De la Cruz, and how he disguised himself with shoe-polish so he wouldn’t stand out. Their attempts to find the man, which took them all over the city (and he met FRIDA KAHLO! HOLY CRAP!), and their quest for a guitar that took them to Shantytown. Nell listened raptly as Miguel continued his story, snickering to herself when he told her about Hector singing “Everyone Knows Juanita”. She wasn’t familiar with the song but she could certainly guess what word “knuckles” might have been meant to replace. And even though she knew full well what kind of awful human being De la Cruz was, hearing first-hand how he’d murdered Hector back in 1921, and then tossed both him and Miguel into a cenote to rot in the Land of the Dead, had her clenching her fists in helpless anger. She wished she could cross the bridge herself so she could punch that creature in his stupid face.

         “And then Mama Imelda and Pepita showed up and pulled us out! Dante had found them and helped track us down. Turns out he’s an alebrije too.”

         “Wait a sec. You are telling me that you were being followed around what is quite literally the afterlife by a dog who turned out to be your alebrije, and you named him Dante.”

         “Yeah?”

         Nell snorted with laughter. “Oh, that is perfect. Absolutely beautiful. I love it.”

         “Um...why?”

         “Look up Dante’s Inferno at school when you get the chance. Let’s just say your dog is really appropriately named.”

         “Um… ‘kay. Anyway…”

         He took her through their infiltration of the Sunrise Spectacular with the entire family in Frida Kahlo cosplay, right up to their final confrontation with De la Cruz when he threw Miguel off the top of the building. Thank god for alebrijes that were large enough to ride on. Pepita had earned her chin-scritches for eternity that night.

         “And then...they sent me back,” Miguel finished. “I ran back home. Mama Coco… I couldn’t let her forget him. She’d had problems with her memory for so long but I had to try. But when I played their song, it was like it all came back somehow. She’d kept everything hidden in her drawer. Hector’s letters, some of his song drafts. And the corner of the picture that had been torn away. We taped it back on and put it in a new frame. It’s on the ofrenda now but… I don’t know if I made it in time.”

         Tears stung at his eyes but he wiped them away stubbornly.

         “And you’ve never tried to go back, just to see?”

         Miguel shook his head, giving a watery chuckle. “I think Mama Imelda would have killed me for real if I tried. I thought… For a moment last year I thought I felt him, like he was playing right next to me but…”

         “Then I’m sure he made it,” Nell told him, resting one hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “You would know best, right? My great-grandma passed away when I was ten and I will swear on whatever you want that I still feel her in my grandparents’ house, so if you say you felt Hector playing next to you that night, then you did.”

         He let out a shaky sigh as a feeling of relief washed over him. He didn’t know how badly he needed to hear that until that moment, for someone else to have such absolute faith that what he felt was real. Hector had become one of his best friends even before they’d found out they were related. The fear that he had been too late had been eating at him for so long…

         They sat in silence for a moment as Miguel collected himself. Then he sighed again. “Thank you.”

         “Any time,” Nell smiled. “Seriously. And hey, we could always try an experiment this year.”

         “What kind of experiment?”

         “Projecting during Dia de los Muertos. I’ve never tried it before but who knows, maybe you’ll be able to see them.”

         Miguel’s face lit up like a christmas tree. “En serio? We can do that?”

         “We can try,” Nell promised. “All the old stories say that the veil is thinnest that time of year, so if there’s any time it would work, well it’s worth a shot right?”

         The boy jumped to his feet, letting out an enthusiastic grito that would have woken the entire town if he’d been in his physical body.

         “I take that as a ‘yes’ then?”

         “Yes! Absolutely yes!”

         Nell didn’t sleep well that night. She wanted to, oh how she wanted to, but one thought kept circling in her mind. There was something about that guitar. She couldn’t help but feel that there was more to the story. Miguel had said that it wasn’t the guitar that was cursed, but if it was nothing more than a harmless musical instrument, Nell was a fire-breathing monkey. There was just something way too coincidental about it.

         Annoyed with herself, she rolled over to scribble a reminder to herself on the notepad she kept on her bedside table in case of midnight bursts of inspiration. She would look into it in the morning. Surely somewhere on the internet was stories of haunted instruments.

         Apparently, as Nell found the next morning over breakfast, stories of haunted or possessed musical instruments were not uncommon. There were even long-standing legends cultural legends related to the phenomena, and when Nell came across the myth of the Japanese tsukumogami, she knew she’d found what she was looking for. Though there was no cultural crossover of this type of legend the correlation of events was just too close.

         Immediately she opened up a new document on her laptop and started to take notes.

         In old Japanese culture there was a belief that if an object was owned for over a hundred years, it would develop a soul of its own and become self-aware. Musical instruments were particularly common tsukumogami because they were often crafted with great care and carried great monetary value, so they usually ended up passed down through generations. But the descendants of the masters who once owned these instruments were not always musically inclined themselves, causing the instruments to fall into disuse and become resentful. And Hector Rivera would definitely be classified as a “master”. Between what Miguel had told her and her own research, Nell could see that this was a man who put his heart and soul into every note he played. That was a lot of emotion for an instrument to absorb in the approximately three years that he had owned it. A lot of love. And for him to be betrayed, murdered for his music, and the instrument stolen and paraded around by the murderer? Someone who only played for fame and attention? Nell figured that would result in a pretty pissed-off guitar.

         And the guitar itself was a freaking showpiece. Hand-made and perfect to the last detail. That kind of love and care being put into its creation had to leave a mark as well. Nell wondered how Imelda had been able to afford it.

         The writer sat back in her chair, biting absently at her lip as she contemplated. Another quick google search had her frowning. Hector had died in November of 1921, at the age of twenty-one. Ernesto De la Cruz had been crushed by a falling bell during a performance in 1942, almost exactly twenty-one years later. No way in hell was that a coincidence.

         And according to the date stamp on the video taken that night, the date of the concert was… the second of November. Dia de los Muertos.

         “Well… holy shit.”

         Nell scrubbed her hands over her face, almost dislodging her glasses. That was a hell of a kick for an instrument that hadn’t even hit twenty-five years yet. It didn’t hit one hundred until 2017. Displayed like a trophy in the tomb of the man who murdered its master until some kid breaks in and steals it. A kid whose motivations might not have been entirely pure, but who had a musician’s heart, and who happened to be a direct descendant of Hector Rivera, its original owner.

         Most stories of cursed objects just dealt with bad luck and deadly accidents. She’d never heard of people being shoved into astral planes and being taken to the Land of the Dead. She could only concluded that the guitar wanted Miguel to meet Hector, wanted him to find out the truth. Had it known that Hector was being forgotten?

         When Miguel returned at sunrise the first thing he did was run to his grandmother. The guitar would have known her too. This was the child that Hector had loved so dearly, who he had played for every night. It had held onto that love, those powerful memories for all those years, and Miguel said that when he played for her she came back somehow. Nell’s own grandfather had passed away when she was in university. Over the last few years of his life, dementia had robbed him of most of his memories. The last time she had seen him, he thought she was her mother. To bring someone back from that was nothing short of a miracle.

         “Okay. So. The guitar might be sentient.”

         After some thought she found she kind of liked the idea. It was reassuring in a way to feel that treasured things could love people in return. And if they developed spirits of their own, could they be considered alebrije too?

         Nell grinned, reaching for her tablet and plugging it into her laptop, breakfast entirely forgotten. A sentient, haunted guitar. It looked like she finally had a real plot for her new book.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so ends Chapter 4!

Researching for this fic has been really educational for me. I've tried to stick as close to the known facts about the history and culture that I reference as possible, though I may have had to use a bit of creative license to get everything to mesh properly with my plot. One of those details was the date of Ernesto's last concert. It was never really specified in canon, but based on the stage design and how when the scene was originally planned for the opening number and how the introductory song was about Dia de los Muertos, I went with that being the date.

One of the most fun things about writing Nell for me is getting to play with all of the meta storylines and fan theories that I can't get to fit within the regular plot. I want to give a special shout out to @im-fairly-whitty​, whose incredible discussion of the sentient guitar theory (found here) has inspired the basis of Nell's novel.

Thanks so much for reading! If you want to see any more fun content or fanart, please follow me! Send me your asks, your fun theories, or any comments you have! I can't wait to connect with you!

[zarafoodrecipe]

Cracks opening in relationship between Latrell Mitchell and Roosters

And Tedesco said during the week in an interview with Channel Nine news that he wants to play out the rest of his career at the Bondi club. That may explain why Mitchell is showing interest in a permanent move to five-eighth when Luke Keary moves in to play half after Cooper Cronk calls it quits. Loading Beyond positional considerations, there are family pressures weighing on Mitchell: a constant theme is that family members have a genuine fondness for South Sydney. There is also a feeling from the Mitchell family that not enough was done by the Roosters for Latrells brother Shaq, a young forward with loads of potential. His issues were weight and injury. The Roosters will say and provide evidence that they did everything possible to help Shaq make it in the big time. The last we heard, he injured himself in a local NFL tryout when he was thinking of giving American football a crack. The Roosters have monitored his life and they provided help with a job he was trying to get. Latrell is also in the middle of a split from his long-time agent, Steve Deacon, the former Easts centre. This issue was discussed by Roosters officials during the week. The Roosters fear Mitchell will link up with agent Matt Rose a close friend of Mitchell, who also does fight promotion. Mitchell was at the weigh-in when Paul Gallen fought John Hopoate. He just hung out in a corner of the room and politely declined interview requests. The theory is that if Rose takes charge of his career, Mitchell will end up at Souths. The Rabbitohs are privately hoping that is what happens.

Coup signing: Souths are still hoping to lure Mitchell to Redfern.Credit:AAP But thats not to say Rose has a great relationship with Souths officials, although his biggest star, Cody Walker, is at the club. Wayde Rushton, who manages Kalyn Ponga, is another being mentioned as a potential agent. The Mitchell case certainly is a fascinating one. Its a tribute to his ability that he is still managing to star on the field. A different approach to religious freedom Before Israel Folau decided to put religion above all else, Will Hopoate made a great sacrifice, quitting rugby league to undertake a Mormon mission. He then sacrificed hundreds of thousands of dollars by refusing to play on Sundays. A portion of his career was played under the leadership of Raelene Castle who was the Bulldogs boss at the time but is now the head of Rugby Australia. Castle was the Bulldogs boss from July 2013 to August 2017. Hopoate clearly felt comfortable expressing his religious views under her leadership. Castle had numerous discussions with Folau about his use of social media and his religious views, but it obviously didnt get through to him. Otherwise he would not be fighting for his $4 million deal. Hopoate is not a controversial character and does not want to get involved in the Folau issue, but he was prepared to discuss his experiences with Castle and the Bulldogs. One thing that Ive been proud of here at Canterbury is that they have allowed me to live my faith, he said. There is no pressure ... Ive been allowed to live my life without any instruction.

Respectful: Will Hopoate doesn't force his Christian views on others.Credit:AAP The Izzy thing is a hot topic and a difficult one to say too much about. Id rather not put myself out there and say something dumb. I know Izzy, but we are not close. Hopoates Instagram is full of his faith. On February 3 he wrote: Im Christian ... this doesnt make me better than anyone, but it helps me be better. On March 3 he wrote: If church was for perfect people, the chapel would be empty. Its a regular theme on his page. He is strong in faith, but he doesnt force his views on others. After having the clubs blessing for some time not to play on Sundays, there was a rethink. In a perfect world, I would like to have Sundays off, he said. But Canterbury is my employer and I have a commitment to them and I have to do what they ask of me. To play footy, I think I will continue that mode. If I was granted a wish then I wouldnt [play Sundays], but Im not kicking stones. "What has happened has happened and I am moving on from there. I want to keep playing football for as long as I can. When I finish I want to be involved in youth work. I have been going around to high schools sharing my journey to the NRL. I know how much my youth leaders shaped my life and what an influence they had on me and Id like to have that effect on people. I like to talk about resilience and positivity and how to apply that to your life. White or wrong? Loading In the long run, Anthony Seibold will probably taste success with his roster and resources he has to but its looking tougher and tougher for the clubs chief executive, Paul White, to survive. Wayne Bennetts continued success at the Rabbitohs should mean White is under huge pressure. White was the one who speared a legend of the game when he pushed Bennett out the door last year. It gets even more interesting because not only does Seibold have a five-year deal, but he has an option for a sixth season in his favour. Its hard to believe. Seibold has not been big on seeing out his contracts. He left Manly early and then swung into the top job at South Sydney after Michael Maguire was shown the door. Madge Maguire has not talked to him since the day he was replaced. Seibold has the best set-up in the NRL and he needs to deliver ina hurry. Teddy for Wehbe The fallout continues from the split between Isaac Moses and the football whisperer Joe Wehbe. We told you last week that James Tedesco is now firmly in Wehbes camp and wants nothing to do with Moses. He is now going public with his support for Wehbe. Asked if he was in Wehbes corner he said: Yeah, definitely. He has been a big part in my career and I owe a lot to him. Other players who now have strained relationships with Moses include Israel Folau, Parramattas Tim Mannah and Nathan Brown, and rising star Joseph Suaalii a young rugby player who has signed with South Sydney until 2021. Loading Folau has largely gone alone in his preparation for his battle with Rugby Australia. Moses has been busy trying to shore up other clients as he knows his empire is under threat. It is understood Moses has been ringing family members of the clients who are looking to jump ship. The whole situation is messy and its threatening to get messier. Moses has friends in the highest of places: one of his best mates is NRL boss Todd Greenberg. Their families are firm friends. Ponga's plan If the Knights want to start talking to Kalyn Ponga about an extension to his contract, they may have to cool their heels for a couple of months at least. The view is that he wants to talk after Origin. Ponga is in the second year of a four-year contract. There have been no approaches from rugby union, nor in an early discussion did the Knights indicate they want to do a long-term deal. Api on the move Manly may be prepared to let Api Koroisau go. He has given the club great service but it would appear the Eagles have found a No.9 in Manase Fainu. Its one to keep an eye on. Danny Weidler is a sport columnist for The Sydney Morning Herald. Most Viewed in Sport Loading https://www.smh.com.au/sport/nrl/cracks-opening-in-relationship-between-latrell-mitchell-and-roosters-20190504-p51k4s.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

[doomedandstoned]

BRUME

Dusty Shaky Shiver

Review & Interview by Zachary Painter

Photos by Bruno Pereira (Wav Magazine)

Music is a dynamic force and we, as the ultimate architects of musical expression, have very little control over how it affects us. The most fascinating phenomenon, then, is to witness the progressive evolution of a group of individuals contributing to the greater musical conversation of our time. Take BRUME, for instance, a Bay Area three-piece who just released their sophomore effort, 'Rooster' (2017). It’s an impressive slab of gritty, colorful doom, and it delivers on every paradigm of what we call doom metal.

Rooster by Brume

Rooster’s primary achievement is that it sounds much bigger than anything the band has done before. It’s bold, heavy, and beautiful, and the songwriting is tighter and stronger than anything from their 2015 debut, Donkey. By focusing more on interesting guitar work and sounder song structures, the trio has avoided sounding like another Windhand doom-pop clone, which isn’t so easy to do if your band features a female vocalist. From their latest work, Brume draw comparisons to the likes of Messa or to some degree Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard.

Indeed, not experimenting enough was the major drawback of Donkey, which relied on singer and bassist Susie McMullen’s soaring falsetto to carry the band through five rather similar tracks. Rooster is superior in that it works more with the band’s collective talents to create staggering moments that incorporate dynamics and powerful guitar progressions. Songs like opener "Grit and Pearls," for instance, progress by sculpting dynamics that carry the listener from stentorian peaks to quiet, calm depths. These transitions establish intimate moments with the listener, imparting Rooster with a richness that sustains the whole record.

Perhaps "Reckon" captures Rooster’s variety the best: Jamie McCathie’s guitar--clean and coated with some effects--sounds out a bluesy passage that supports McMullen’s swaggering vocal lead. It’s a calm introduction that proceeds to obliterate the listener as Jordan Perkins-Lewis joins McCathie with his drums to create a wall of sound. Towards the halfway point of the song, McMullen belts out a tribal-esque chant that soars majestically atop McCathie’s High on Fire-inspired riffing and Perkins-Lewis’ sustaining ride cymbal.

To bring some balance to Rooster, Brume included a softer song called "Welter," an acoustic track that combines piano from Billy Anderson himself to accompany McMullen’s stunning vocals. “The villain plays the victim,” sings McMullen. “Do you use pity as your weapon?” The melody and lyrics come from a place of hurt; the pain and upheaval radiate from McMullen’s crooning voice as soft piano chords shimmer in the offing. It’s a moment of vulnerability and nakedness, but it cuts deep.

The album ends on "Tradewind," a slow paced dirge that shifts from somber plodding to a cathartic release towards the final minutes of the song. “Open wounds, healing truth, healing you. Open wounds, open, open you, healing truth,” McMullen sings. The cleansing nature of the lyrics in conjunction with the guitar’s unbridled drone creates yet another moment of unashamed tenderness that shows us a side of doom metal we’re only accustomed to getting in small doses from bands like Pallbearer, Warning, or even Type O Negative ("Love You to Death" is one of the sappiest songs in metal, but we love it all the same). More of this, please.

The daringness to pioneer new sonic territory is what makes Rooster such a success. It’s not groundbreaking, but it’s not terribly derivative, either. For their second LP, the future is looking bright for Brume.

A Lively Conversation With Brume

By Zachary Painter

Photos by Kristen Wrzesniewski

Brume recently finished up a few UK tour dates with Gurt. You also got to play Desertfest at The Underworld alongside Bongzilla and Inter Arma, among others. How was that whole experience? I read that Body Count was forever "your" band.

Susie McMullan (vocals, bass): Ugh, that was so incredibly fun. Travelling with rad dudes who have fantastic music you get to hear every night will elevate you and make you want to do better. Gurt is a killer band and a fun bunch of dudes to party with every night. I have been singing “Salt In My Vagina/Jon GarSeeYa Later" and “Battlepants” walking around in the city with a huge smile on my face since I’ve gotten back. Desertfest London was a treat, as well. We were well taken care of, packed the venue, and pretty much had the best show to date. The sound was epic and the event was really well run. I was meaning to reach out to the sound folks at the Underworld to let them know how excellent it was. Can’t ask for anything better than that?

Most people don’t remember their dreams. Mine are clear, awful, and haunting...

Jordan Perkins-Lewis (drums): Desertfest was incredible. Easily one of my favorite festivals in the world. Gurt warms the cockles of my heart. We stayed with a lot of mums on this trip. Mums go hard on tour.

Jamie McCathie (guitar): The tour was epic. For me, I got to hang with my Gurt family and introduce Brume to not only some of the best peeps on the planet, but a seriously incredible band. Gurt slayed every night. And to end the tour at Desertfest was an amazing experience. The Underworld was rammed. It’s my favorite venue in London and I never got to play there in the 7 ½ years I lived in London. It was an experience. Body Count "Get Shot" turned 'to the tour anthem after Bill and Spice banged on about how amazing the new album was -- it’s epic. It was our stage entrance tune at Desertfest. It made us feel pumped.

Which bands were you looking forward to seeing most?

Susie: Inter Arma and Elephant Tree, two current inspirations. I’m pretty pumped to say we are playing with Inter Arma again on August 17th at Thee Parkside. That makes two times in one year. #madeit

Jordan: Vodun and Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs were high on my list.

Jamie: I was so excited to see Inter Arma, and they blew my ass off. I was also excited to see bands I hadn't from the U.K. like Elephant tree, Vodun, Chubby Thunderous Bad Kush Masters and Mammoth Weed wizard Bastard. Elephant tree were one of the bands Susie and I religiously listened to when we were starting Brume. They are a huge influence on us and to do something in the future with those guys would be rad. Pete and I go a lil' way back from my Gurt days.

We spend most of our time hiding in a cave making music.

You guys worked with Gareth Kelly and his record label and PR entity When Planets Collide to set up this tour. Seeing that Brume has close ties with Gurt and the UK scene, do you have future plans to collaborate with Gurt or other bands overseas?

Susie: I have dreams of spending time, collaborating, and having future plans with a few overseas bands such as Elephant Tree, Pist, Sedulus, and Mage. You can’t fight gravity.

Jordan: We’re bringing Gurt over next year. That’s all I’ll say for now.

Jamie: The tour was special for me because I played a set with Gurt every night, the songs I could still remember. They came on stage and played "Tradewind" with us a few nights. Doing more with Gurt would be amazing. There was a lot of talk about getting Gurt over to the West Coast. We’ll see.

Any upcoming tours for Brume stateside?

Jordan: We’ll get down to Los Angeles at some point this year and hopefully back up to the Pacific Northwest. There are also rumors of the East Coast and Deep South.

Jamie: A couple of awesome shows coming up in the Bay Area -- San Jose and San Francisco with Castle and Year Of The Cobra, plus a few yet to be announced that we are crazy excited about.

Since Donkey came out, it seems a lot has happened logistically for the band. I remember discovering Donkey on Transylvanian Tapes out of Oakland. Do you still work with them? How did you transition to DHU Records?

Susie: Yeah, Transylvanian Tapes is led by this wonderful man that helps small bands like us out, but he only does tapes. DHU only does vinyl. He is also a lovely man who does a lot for us. We are grateful for Transylvanian Tapes and DHU because they not only propped us up when we were invisible to most people, they introduced us to a lot of other underground bands that now inspire us and help us progress. Very similar to you guys. If it wasn’t for Doomed & Stoned, Planets Collide, Ripple Music, Transylvanian Tapes, DHU, and these wonderful blog posts and reviews, we’d not be given the chances that we have had so far. We are incredibly grateful for it. We spend most of our time hiding in a cave making music. Y'all make us relevant and visible.

Jordan: The community surrounding bands like us, and music like ours, is absolutely the best part of doing all this. We’ve met some wonderful people who have really gone out their way to push us and encourage us to keep going. Transylvanian Tapes and DHU are a huge part of that. The support we’ve been fortunate enough to receive has been overwhelming.

Jamie: James Rauh from Transylvanian Tapes is a legend. He totally hooked us up and continues to do so much to promote Brume and a ton of the other amazing underground Bay Area bands. DHU reached out to us after Donkey came out and has been a huge partner in getting our music to wax. He puts out incredible bands and tirelessly connects with people to spread the word. When Jordan said he wanted to make a label to put out Rooster we were so pumped for him, but decided to have DHU still help with vinyl. I'm glad we did, the color looks way killer and I know people are gonna lose their shit.

What are some Bay Area bands you’re psyched on? I really enjoy Swamp Witch, Body Void, Noothgrush, Brainoil, etc. Any up-and-coming bands in that area you’re digging?

Susie: Yes, Body Void is the total package. I’m a huge gigantic fan of War Cloud and Love Moon, too. I’m wearing a War Cloud shirt right now.

Jordan: So many Bay Area bands to love! KOOK, Tvsk, Name -- it goes on and on.

Jamie: Body Void is fucking incredible. Wilt’s voice is something else, and they keep getting better with every release. KOOK from San Jose are killer, too; not only sweet guys, but man they slay live. Serpents of Dawn, Tvsk, Lowcaster, War Cloud -- it's pretty vibrant around here and getting better.

So this new album, for me, has three focal points I want to talk about: the album art, the lyrics, and, of course, the music. For the album art, you guys chose Sean Beaundry to draw up this fantastic album art. How did you find Beaundry and what made you choose him?

Susie: Jamie found him. I was slow to the party, but fell just as hard in love.

Jordan: We knew what we wanted art-wise. We didn’t know Sean would take it leaps and bounds beyond what we had imagined.

Jamie: The album name was already decided, and Shaun's birds and crows I'd seen were amazing -- plus everything he'd done for Kylesa has this modern quality that I really wanted for our artwork. I reached out to him and was lucky enough that he was pumped about the project and creating a cockatrice. He was a dream to work with and has provided us such a killer album cover. We love it.

I really like Brume’s approach with album artwork and album names. 2015 released Donkey and it aptly featured a humanoid creature with a donkey’s head on the cover. Rooster features a wrathful rooster-snake throttling a sparrow. So what’s the link between your album art and names?

Jordan: Donkey was a temporary band name when we first got started. It eventually became the name of our first EP and Jamie discovered the artwork. I think we all fell in love with the chimera idea, so once we settled on Rooster we already knew it had to be some sort of animal hybrid.

Jamie: Animal hybrids may be a theme. Or farmyard animals? Who knows.

Donkey by Brume

Some of the lyrics on this album were extractions from Victoria June Baigrie. I’ve looked her up and she’s an obscure poet. Tell us more about her work, why you chose to use her poetry, and in what ways it influenced the songwriting for the record.

Jamie: Vicci is my talented wife. The whole album was written by Susie, except "Harold" which is an extraction from a poem that she had created about an injured goldfinch she found and fostered when we lived in London. She found it lying in the street on a bustling Portobello road and swept it up, nurtured it back to health, and then took it to a wildlife reserve a week or so later. The whole experience was both rewarding and traumatic for her, so when Susie asked her to write a poem about it, she jumped at the opportunity. She's keen to write more, maybe even some short stories for books are in the future. The acoustic intro I came up with at the same time this all happened, probably six years ago, so I’m glad I could make this song come to life. Harold is the bird you see on the cover, he looks in trouble but when you see the center gatefold on the vinyl artwork you’ll notice he’s just fine.

"Call the Serpent’s Bluff" is one of the more interesting songs for me lyrically, specifically the first two stanzas.

The other night I dreamt of the devil In a painting white teal and purple His glowing head and arms were a’ flailing But the frame was somehow firmly planted

He didn’t talk but yeah he scared me I left the room but he still got to me He’s in my head

What went into selecting these lyrics?

Susie: That was a poem I wrote one morning after a pretty bad dream. Most people don’t remember their dreams. Mine are clear, awful, and haunting most of the time. I find that writing them down helps me deal with it and try to get it out of my head. Demons and Devils pop up in my dreams a lot and not in a funny, cool, metal way. I think it was a manifestation of me fighting some bad decisions I was tempted to make and ones I have already made, except for the end of the song. The end came a year later as an epiphany when I adapted the poem to music. I remember jogging to it making up a melody to the last riff and thinking, “Oh shit, fuck that. I'm calling his bluff.” The ending was emotionally triumphant. My dreams are like I constantly have these demons fucking fight over my soul. But I won that one a year later. Weird that I’m explaining this to a stranger. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe you should buy me a whiskey first, and I’ll tell you the rest. I like Bulleit.

Jordan: Make mine a double.

Jamie: Three, please!

Ok, so musically this album sees Brume really hitting their stride. How did the writing process change for this record?

Susie: In 2014, we just met and started playing music together. I’m not sure much has changed in our process, except for more time spent together probably helps you build trust and learn how to collaborate easier together. I know I feel more comfortable to make armpit farts as an intro and chirp bird noises mid-song!

Jordan: The first EP was more of a rush job, since Susie was expecting and the fate of the band was unknown. We really wanted to get something out quickly. With Rooster we booked the studio time well in advance and got Billy Anderson to sign on fairy early. There was a good six months where we didn’t do anything but write and rehearse. We’ve also become quite close as a band, so we were more willing to take risks that maybe we wouldn't have attempted on the first record.

Jamie: Process-wise, the only thing that had changed was a lot more focus on lyrics and vocals. Susie and I spent a lot of time at each other’s apartments between band rehearsals focusing in on melodies, intonations, and harmonies. Thanks to all husband and wives in Brume for putting up with us!

What did you want to avoid on this record? In other words, what did you not want this record to sound like, be perceived as, and so on?

Susie: Nothing, I don’t really think that way. I just do what I want to and try not to hold back. It isn’t great life advice but for music it works well for me. Plus, if Jamie or Jordan thinks my idea sucks, they have no problem telling me. That makes it easier to go for it, as far as I’m concerned.

Jordan: We never limit what we want to do. If we like it, we do it. We don’t try to avoid sounding like anything. We sound like who we are.

While the goal should never be "longer is better" for doom, necessarily, the songs on this record are noticeably longer and more fleshed out than those on Donkey. Did this come naturally as you wrote the compositions or were you trying to write a fuller, more complete opus?

Jordan: We joke that our songs aren’t finished until they’re over the six-minute mark, but we do like to stretch things out and slow things down. We’re not in a rush to get to the next song.

Jamie: I’m a big fan of Junior Kimborough, old Bob Dylan, and Yob. Monotony is kind of my jam. Some people find that boring, I find it hypnotic and calming. There is a balancing act to keeping people engaged, so to add more flavor to a song meant making them a lil' longer than we did on Donkey. We wanted these songs to feel more epic and have more dynamics and take people on a journey, so twelve-minute songs just kind of happened.

In "Reckon," McMullen’s vocals deliver this tribal chant in the middle of the song, followed by a fucking heavy riff. It’s a big moment and it's segments like this that make Rooster stand out. What influences would you say pushed you guys to write songs like "Reckon"?

Susie: Jamie wrote that riff -- it's so good, right?! Love that shit. Lyrically, that song is about a big, ugly dude that works at NASA who looks like he should play in Crowbar that I crushed on for some time. It seemed natural to make this song a story about a badass who could match up to that riff. Tribal chants, animal sounds, three-to-four schizoid-personalities in one song, that is what speaks to me vocally and makes me feel wild and alive.

Jamie: The structure in that song came from my fear of it sounding too much like a blues thing. I think that’s where the schizoid personality comes in. There’s a lil' bit of All Them Witches, Pallbearer, and a total High on Fire "10,000 Years" riff at the end that pretty much sums up what I would have been listening to that month.

This album experimented a lot more with dynamics than Donkey. "Tradewind," which starts off with soft, somber guitar work, swells and fades throughout the song, ending on a strong crescendo. This really heightens the cathartic nature of the music. It’s purging, painful, and beautiful. Tell us more about how you guys "discovered" this element of your songwriting.

Susie: For the bass, I just try to beef up the guitars unless I can add something fun and dynamic or bring another riff that compliments Jordan or Jamie. Vocally, I like to show all sides of me. I am not strong and tough 24/7. Sometimes I’m fragile or scared or weak. Sometimes I’m pissed at the whole world and other times I want to lift the world up. I try to give all of those sides of me even if it isn’t that cool to show it. I notice when I do so then singing and playing music is therapeutic and self-nourishing. I don’t have to pretend to be something stronger than I am. It is a sustainable lifestyle being yourself. I highly recommend it.

Jordan: Metal bands have feelings, too.

Jamie: Last year's Radiohead album, A Moon Shaped Pool, was something I obsessed over. That and All Them Witches (ever since I saw them at Day of the Shred in 2014). Whilst very different artists, both bands craft albums that are rich and dynamic. They create such contrast in style and mood. I love this juxtaposition. I respect that I never know what I’m going to get with both of these artists and I was so heavily inspired by that idea, I worked hard to incorporate it into Rooster. I’m excited to see how much more contrast we can create in the future.

I really enjoyed this record, still spinning it now. Thanks so much for visiting with the readers of Doomed & Stoned!

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[tornrose24]

Only a voice, part 2 (A Moana AU fan fic inspired by the Little Mermaid)

Note that this fan fic can also be found on fan fiction.net under my other name (HolyMaiden24). See notes for more details.

Note that in this AU, everyone is out voyaging. The heart of Te Fiti was never stolen, but there are still dangers in the ocean. However there are still reasons as to why Chief Tui doesn’t want Moana out on the ocean, as you will learn pretty soon. Now I, like so many others, am not super familiar with the Polynesian cultures, but I will do my best (and thankfully I own a copy of ‘The Art of Moana’ to help me somewhat). If I ever write something that goes against the culture or is not accurate, please let me know. Something important to keep note of: fale- a type of house. They vary in apperance and some can be used fro ceremonial or religious purposes (from what I understand). tapa- this was a type of ‘cloth’ made from a certain tree. Those tapestries in the beginning of the film were made with these (again, from what I do understand). Hoani- a Maori name. If it is not accurate I will use a different name.

Quite a few years had passed since Moana had been kidnapped by the kakamora, but that itself was a minor occurence compared to what else was occuring around the southern seas of the world. On an island somewhere close to Motonui (and yet not quite) a certain catastrophe was about to occur as the sun was setting as a large bird crashed through the roof of the Chief’s fale. A number of the villagers and the chief himself immediately responded to the occurance and when they made it into the fale, there was one huge hole in the roof of the fale, but it was nothing compared to who was inside the building. “I didn’t think something as precious as this could get in the hands of humans, but I guess you guys find your ways.” A muscular man who almost seemed to be as large as a mountain with a series of tattoos on what seemed to be every inch of his body commented as he held up a necklace in one hand while the other held a large fish hook over his shoulder. If it wasn’t the tattoos that showed his accomplishments, then it was the fish hook that gave away his true identity. “What is it supposed to be for, a wedding present or is this a ceremonial trinket?” He asked as he held the necklace up. It was a beautiful necklace with carefully woven fibers holding together pecies of shells, bones, and a very lovely red stone that would clearly shine under the right lighting. “That is a gift for the family of the Chief of Motonui!” The chief snarled as he took a few steps closer to the man. “I did not promise that to you as payment for protecting us from those monsters!” “Yeah, true.” The man nonchalantly began. “Except I don’t recall you giving me the supplies I asked for as payment. That was all I asked for, and yet you decided that even something as simple as that wasn’t worth giving away. So unless this is a big deal to you guys–which it isn’t–then I’ll take it from you guys as a reminder not to cheat someone out of a deal ever again.” He looked up at the roof. “Plus you now have some much needed lighting in this place, so it wasn’t that bad of a trade off, right?” The chief yelled out in fury as he took a spear from one of his men and charged at the large man. He sighed as he lowered his hand, swung his hook out, and the markings upon it glowed with a blue light. Within moments his form shifted to that of a large brown hawk that not only knocked the chief to the ground as he turned around, but he charged through to the ceiling, dodged quite a few spears that were sent up at him, and made a second large hole in the ceiling when he made his get away. It was quite a nice addition to the archetiecture, he thought to himself. “GET BACK HERE, MAUI!” The Chief yelled at the hawk as his men tried to help him up. “I WILL TELL THE OTHERS WHAT YOU HAVE, DONE, YOU HEAR ME?! YOU CAN’T TAKE WHAT WASN’T PROMISED TO YOU!”
The hawk let out a laugh as he flapped his wings and got away from the island as fast as he could. “It’s always the ones who talk big that I don’t have to worry about!” He spoke to himself. The bird flew to a boat that was hidding behind a large rock and it was there that the bird changed into a man who dropped onto the boat and quickly undid its binds to one of the smaller rocks. There was still a smirk on the man’s face as the wind blew into his wild mane of dark hair, yet his brown eyes had already lost their mischeviousness that he was sometimes more known for over his heroic feats. “Heh,” He paused long enough to look at the necklace, which held no true value for him other then serving as a reminder that those people didn’t really appreciate all that he had done for them. How often did that even happen anymore? He had helped humanity for so long that they were taking his services for granted. “Even their ‘thank yous’ are getting hallower than an empty coconut.” He mused as he was able to let the sails of his boat go and the wind quickly took him away from the island. When was the last time he could remember a ‘thank you’ being so sincere and full of appreciation? Unknown to him, someone had been watching everything that had happened from start to finish. From Maui’s success with driving the monsters away to the instant he had escaped, as well as the moment he was denied a reward. Honestly, the stupid look of offense and shock he had on his face when that happened would make a good memory to laugh at for many decades to come. With a deep chuckle, he sank down into the depths of the ocean as he began to see that there might be something that could work to his advantage. And finally get the revenge he so rightfully desired.

“Alright, that was wonderful!” A sixteen year old Moana clapped her hands together after finishing the dancing lesson with her young students. “You all are going to be amazing!” “But none of us dance as wonderfully as you do, Moana!” A little girl exclaimed. “When the Chief and his people from the other island come to visit, you will be the best dancer of us all!”
“And you will look so pretty in your ceremonial attire!” Another girl beamed. “You’ll be the most beautiful of all the ladies!” Moana let out a laugh as Pua came to brush against her legs. “I wouldn’t make claims like that, but I appreciate it!” She picked Pua up and waved to the children. “Bye!” She then gently grabbed one of Pua’s front feet and playfully waved it at the children. “‘Bye-bye!’” She pretended to say on Pua’s behalf. “Bye!” “Bye, Moana!” Moana smiled as she walked away. “You’d think that for once we would get to go to the islands and perform for them instead.” She told Pua as she turned to the ocean and let out a sigh of longingness. “If only father would stop being afraid and let me go.” She had only one time out on the ocean and she never forgot it. Yet she wanted to trully experience the ocean and feel the wood of a canoe under her feet and the wind blowing through her hair. Getting kidnapped, fighting for her life, and getting blinded was not the same as that. “You remember when we got to be out on the ocean, don’t you Pua?” Pua let out an uncomfortable grunt. “Yeah, those things did want to make you their dinner.” Moana agreed. “Ever since I was found that night, father became very adamant that I wouldn’t go near the shore without someone by my side, let alone anywhere near a canoe.” Moana reflected as she continued to walk towards her grandma’s fale. “I told the story and he didn’t believe anything other than that I was out at sea.” She frowned. “I know it has been many years since his friend drowned in the ocean, and I know he forbade me and mother to leave with him since he fears that history will repeat itself. But I wish he could trust me enough to at least let me learn under someone! How can I be the future Chief if I am not allowed to go to the other islands, Pua?!” When she briefly turned away, she could see that Heihei the rooster was trying to peck at a bush for reasons that could only make sense to him. “Any day now, he’ll walk right to a cook and serve himself as our next meal.” She chuckled. She had done everything to save Heihei, but with each attempt to speak on his behalf, it seemed the dumb bird gave the cook a new reason to prep him for dinner. She almost wanted to know what went on through Heihei’s head but she doubted it would be anything enlightening for her own benefit. She glanced back to the ocean as she continued her walk. She thanked the gods that her blindness only lasted for a short time and that she could enjoy the sight of the ocean in all of its beauty. She couldn’t explain it, but... “I feel like each time I look at the ocean, it keeps calling to me. It wants to appologize for what almost happened to me.” She mused. She had tried to double her efforts to respect the ocean since then and sometimes she talked to the water when no one was looking. She prayed that it would guide her father on safe voyages and that one day it would do the same for her when her time would come. “Perhaps I am going to be the next village crazy lady.” Moana laughed. “Maybe I should learn a thing or two about that from Grandma Tala. She would glady welcome a successor.” Grandma Tala was in her fale when Moana found her and the eldery woman was once again recounting tales of monsters and gods to a group of young children. Moana set Pua outside and walked right in as Grandma Tala finished up another story. “And that is why our days are long and productive.” Grandma Tala was obviously recounting a tale about Maui slowing down the sun. “With the aid of his magical fish hook, Maui helped us grow our crops and give us time to enjoy the rest of the day.” “And without his help, we would surely be lost in darkness and grow hungry.” Moana chimmed in, causing the children to turn around to face her and the old woman to smile at her granddaughter. “Maui has faced many monsters and many dangers that most wouldn’t dare try to face.” Moana smiled at the tapa that depicted the demi-god and the animals that he shape shifted into. Some of his stories were among her favorite tales that Tala herself told to her. “All he has done has been on our behalf because he is very fond of mortals. It would be good fortune if one were to ever meet him, and yet because he takes on different forms we could go through our whole lives not knowing that we have seen him. No matter how many versions of his tales are told, he will always be remembered as a hero to all. I know that I myself would love to have his daring and cunningness in the most difficult of times.” Moana admitted with a chuckle. “But Maui isn’t always nice.” A boy told Moana and all the children looked at him. “My dad said that he likes to trick people to get what he wants and sometimes he’ll try to do impossible things to boast about just because he can.”
“Yeah, didn’t he rip off a monster’s leg one time for no reason?” Another boy asked as he pointed to a certain tapa. Moana turned around to see that the particular tapa depicted a giant monster crab. The crab’s face looked a little comical, and yet there was a sinisterness about him that made it clear that he was not to be taken so lightly. “Tamatoa?” Moana approached the tapa and placed a hand on the crab. “Well, he is one of the most dangerous creatures in all of Lalotai. Some actually think he was once a great warrior or a lost member of a royal family who was either cursed or came back as a crab. He loves treaure more than anything in the world and he will decorate himself with them like they’re jewellry–” A few children laughed at this. A crab who loves to wear treasures? What a silly thought! “–but he also uses it to attract his prey.” Moana recounted as she turned to the children with a big grin. “The shinier something is, the more he’ll want it, so you better make sure you don’t have anything like that on you!” She pretended to snatch at them with her hand as if it were a claw, causing a few children to recoil away from her. “He might think ‘Oh, what a nice looking bracelet’! Perhaps I shall take it off that cute child’s tiny wrist!’” She spoke in a deep voice when she pretended to be Tamatoa and she did the motion again to the nearest little girl who let out a giggle and playfully patted Moana’s hand away. “‘Tamatoa must have every shiny, sparkly thing that he sees!’” Moana growled in delight. “He was also once a good friend of Maui’s.” Grandma Tala added. “Both were equally prideful and loved to boast about their accomplishments until one day they had an arguement and Maui tore one of Tamatoa’s legs off. No one knows what the arguement was, but even to this day, Tamatoa has not regained that leg. It is said that he is waiting for the chance to have his revenge on Maui for his loss.” One of the boys scoffed. “So? He’s just a dumb crab!” “A big crab!” Another boy reminded him. “But be warned children.” Grandma Tala added as her voice took on a sinister tone. “For they say that Tamatoa had become so obsessed with making himself beautiful with his treasures to compensate for his ugliness, that he is not as sane as he once was. He even started to develop a taste for humans just to keep gaining more trinkets. There is no telling just how much further he would go to accomplish his goals. Remember my children– outer appearances and great accomplishments are fine and all, but they mean nothing without what is important on the inside.” She looked directly at Moana when she said those last words, as if she was trying to tell her something. “And appearances can be very deceving.” “So we won’t go near any shiny things.” A girl decided. “We’ll be safe.” “Except there is one final trap to be mindful of.” Moana couldn’t help but add. “He loves to use his voice to attract his prey if the treasures doesn’t cut it. They say his singing is as beautiful and hypnotic as he is ugly and selfish, so should he ever sing to you, it might already be too late!” She pretended to be Tamatoa again as she creeped towards the childen, her hands curled to resemble claws, and just when she was about to strike–
“For Te Fiti’s sake, I would think that you would make a better story teller than a chief!” “Ah!” A startled Moana broke her act and she turned around to face Chief Tui. “Father!” “Son!” Grandma Tala chuckled before turning to the children. “That is all for today, but I hope you remember that story for the sake of the future. Farewell for now.” The children got up off the floor and waved to the Chief and his family before they hurried off to go out to play. “If not a storyteller, then perhaps a crab.” Tui mused before turning to Moana with a smile. “I hear that you’re dancing is coming along well; keep up the good work, but remember that there is still so much that needs preparation before Chief Hoani comes.” He told her before walking away from the fale as Pua scrambled to get inside. Moana frowned as she walked up to Grandma Tala and the tapa of Maui. “I could do so much more for Motonui besides dancing for the other Chiefs and talking with them. If only he would let go of that fear of losing me.” Moana spoke as she placed a hand over Maui’s fish hook. If only she could have it, so that she could turn into one of his creatures and get away from here for at least one day. She envied the demi-god more than she ever had in her life. “He’ll learn eventually that you must go out into the world to learn as much as you can.” Grandma Tala told Moana. “I want to be there for my people, but sometimes wish I could be as free as Maui.” Moana said as she looked at the demi-god, who seemed so fierce in this depiction on the tapa and yet so much like the trickster they said he was. “I sometimes wish I never went back to Motonui when I had been taken away.” She closed her eyes. “I know what they all expect of me, but I would give anything to be on the sea and live out more stories. I want to have both land and sea be part of my life without losing sight of who I am.” Tala understood her granddaughter’s frusterations perfectly. She had prayed to the gods that fortune could favor her family and she wished that Moana could find her happiness like Tui did with his people and with his family. She decided to change tactics and asked Moana “So you still haven’t learned who your rescuer was then?”
“All I know is that the man seemed so smug about what he had done, and yet there was a strange lonliness about him.” Moana admitted. “I still remember that voice and how full of life it seemed. Everything is is vague but that if I ever heard that voice again, I would know it was him, no question about it.” “Sounds like a man with his head at least partly attatched to his shoulders.” Grandma Tala chuckled. “But don’t worry, Moana,” She placed a reasuring arm around the girl. “If the sea knows how much you love it, I am sure it will one day take you back. Maybe one day I’ll see if there can be a way to get you off this island again if all doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to be. I want to see you live out a happy life, even if it is not the same as the life you dreamt of.” Moana smiled back. “Thanks Grandma.” The two walked out of the fale, but they didn’t notice that Pua was staring at them in frusteration. The pig then turned to the tapa of Maui and let out an annoyed grunt. It took him awhile to figure out who Moana’s rescuer was until he had sat through some of the tales of Maui and took a long look at the fish hook and the bird on the tapa. He knew that both the demi-god and the man who had saved him and Moana from those–ugh–pests, were one and the same. He wished deep down that there was a way for Moana to know that it was Maui who had saved her and who she had hugged that night. She didn’t notice any of his previous attempts to let her know, and she laughed them off if he wasn’t chased away by someone. Pua knew she would have liked it if she knew the truth.

Somewhere on a lone island in the dead of night, Maui stared at the useless necklace as he reflected on his accomplishments and tried to remember how long it took for the people to appreciate all he had done. It was a rare sight to see the normally upbeat demi-god seem withdrawn or a little depressed and he wanted to have his privacy for that exact reason. Yes, he had done many a great thing for the mortals. He pulled up islands, slowed down the sun, fought many monsters, and all of these feats were shown to the world in the form of his many tattoos. He was infused with this ocean and its myths as much as the gods were and he was a part of the world of humans in all but their lifespan. It was a never ending cyle. They would love him for all that he did for a few years, and then it would be like he never did anything at all to begin with. Then something would come up and then he would have to help them again, then they’d praise him, yada, yada, yada. It was really tiring to go through this. Every, single, generation, of humans. What else could he do to earn their love and adoration? He hated being stuck in-between two worlds sometimes. He knew for a fact that he didn’t want to be a god, due to the responsibilities (he knew for a fact that he would probably be the last person considered for such a position and it would not have been so fun if he couldn’t get to do whatever he liked anymore). Sometimes he wanted to retire and go back to being a human, even if a short lifespan scared the heck out of him. He felt something whacking against the left side of his chest and he looked down to see a smaller tattooed version of himself trying to get his attention. “What?” he demanded bitterly. The tattoo of himself–or Mini Maui as he refered that tattoo– pointed to something and he watched as a scene of a previous rescue played out on the left side of his chest. It showed the little girl and the pig he saved from the kakamora some time ago and it showed her reaching out to him, despite being unable to see at the time. He almost felt sorry for her back then, but her joy at her adventure was enough to quit the pitying. Mini Maui smiled at the girl and hugged her in a big embrace for a second before she was absorbed into him and the rest of the scene vanished. “Yeah, I remember the kid.” Maui said. “But she didn’t know it was me who saved her. I wouldn’t be suprised if she already died by now.” Another reason why it was not so fun being immortal. Almost everyone died before him, including too many children that he had met in his life. He sighed as he set the necklace aside and gazed upon the moon. “Don’t know if she would have wanted me around if she knew what she was getting herself into.” There was that one final problem- he was a danger to mortals as there was no telling what danger he would bring to them. Maui then realized that someone or something was right behind him while he had been distracted. He mentally cursed himself as he made to grab for his hook when that person spoke. “What’s a matter, little Maui? Not having fun saving those mortals you so adore?” Oh. Heck. No. He knew who it was. If it wasn’t the accent, then it was the tone of the voice–condescending, scheming, sinister when the owner so desired, and dangerous if used to lure a certain kind of prey–that gave him away. “I saw what happened on that island. Pretty ungreatful of them if you ask me. I would have done more then scare them and steal them blind if it were me, but why bother, right?” He laughed. “What do you want?” Maui demanded in a careful tone as his hand inched towards the hook. “Oh, I just want to know what is going on through your head right now, Maui man. Are you ready to give it all up and stop helping them? You can’t fight in every battle and save every one of those simple, fragile humans. Why should you if they turned your back on you once before?” Maui grabbed the hook and he heard the voice take a sharp intake of air. He probably remembered what happened the last time he saw that hook. Slowly the demi-god turned around and came face to face with a creature who almost shone in the moonlight thanks to the amount of treasures that somehow stuck to his shell. His eyes would have been considered a lovely shade of blue to anyone else, but one pupil was dialated and both eyes squinted at Maui with a careful gaurdedness that almost matched the smug smile on his face. Maui could also see out of the corner of his eye that the giant crab was still missing one of the legs on the left side of his body. “So what do you want to get off your chest, mon ami?” The crab grinned wide enough to reveal crooked teeth covered in barncales (much like his ‘chin’ if that was what it could be called). It never ceased to amaze Maui as to why such a voice as that could belong to something so... unappealing in apperance (and that was putting it kindly). “I mean that figuratively, of course, I don’t know if I want to see your tattoos come off your body. That would be a weird sight to see, but I digress. Ol’ Tamatoa is all... well I suppose I don’t have actual ears,” Tamatoa let out an unpleasant chuckle. “But I’ll still give it a listen.”

And now his Crabuloussness... err... the reason that some of you probably wanted to read this... ehh... Ok, yeah I’m fond of Tamatoa and he finally showed up. I’m a sucker for characters like him (you might already know that if you read my Zelda AUs) but... man is his song AWESOME! I wish he was in the film longer! Disney, please let him show up in a Moana short! You did shorts for Frozen and Tangled and they both featured antagonists from those films! Or at least give us a Moana musical instead of a Frozen musical, I’d give you my money for that! Poor Moana has no idea what she’s going to get trapped in the feud between Maui and Tamatoa *laughs*. My favorite part of the whole chapter to write out was the story-telling. I read from one particular article that the name Tamatoa is a name that came from a warrior and was also used within a certain Royal Family.... and that one reviwer in the article was very offended that Disney used that name for one of the antagonists in the film. As much as I like that name now, I can understand why that would seem offensive. That’s why I was inspired to add that one odd bit in the myth behind the character in this AU. Anyway, for those of you who are already making parallels, Pua IS meant to be like Max from the Little Mermaid, since he was the only one close to Eric who knew who Ariel was. Ok, I’ll shut up now. Let’s see where this goes and I don’t know if I can make a Tamatoa version of the song ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ but I can try to write out something that feels similar to that if its not a song.