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angelasscribbles · 5 months ago

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What Happened in Vegas

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Riley x Liam x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes I guess

Word Count: 1,796

A/N: Credit/blame goes to @aussiegurl1234 for putting this in my head with the simple statement that the Vegas fling should have been a threesome. To be clear: There is no smut here, this isn't set in Vegas, but rather the aftermath and results of what happened.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam's head guard entered the council chambers to whisper in the king's ear. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Duchess of Valtoria is asking to see you. She says it's important."

Riley was on the short list of people that had unrestricted access to him at all times. "Thank you, Alec." He nodded to dismiss the guard, then turned back to the council members. "Are we about done here?"

"Well, there was one last item—" The Earl of Dunwick pointed to the line item on the agenda about a proposed construction project and a lake full of some protected fish.

"Anything that can't wait until next week?"

"Well…. The project management company has been waiting for an answer for six months already…"

"So, what's one more week?" Liam grinned. "Meeting adjourned!"

The king of Cordonia damn near skipped through the halls to the private sitting room where the woman who made his heart beat was waiting.

His smile faltered when he found Drake waiting with her.

He had hoped Riley was there to spend some quality time with him. He didn't see her near as often as he would have preferred. Ever since the advent of her marriage to his best friend, their trysts had diminished. Not ended mind you, but it wasn't like it had been during the social season when they had been sneaking off every chance they got to the hedge maze, the rooftop, or an empty guest room.

Then the coronation debacle had happened and everything had gone sidewise.

He had hoped to be able to repair their relationship during the engagement tour and he had, to some extent.

Riley had told him up front when she started sleeping with Drake, but somehow, every time she reminded him of her new relationship, the two of them ended up in bed together. "I'm with Drake now, remember?" Always ended with her screaming his name.

Pushing his disappointment aside, he embraced and kissed her on the lips before turning to acknowledge Drake's presence. Greetings were exchanged, then he directed his attention back to Riley. "Not that I'm complaining, in any way, I am always happy to see you, but why are you here?"

Riley cut straight to the chase. "I think I'm pregnant. My period is late, and I can't remember if I had it last month or not." Life had been busy since assuming the mantle of Duchess and starting married life with Drake.

Liam did some quick backward math. His eyebrows shot up as he looked from her to Drake and back again. "Vegas?"

"Vegas," she nodded.

"So…whose is it?"

Riley threw her arms up in the air. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Of course it fucking matters, Riley!"

"Not to me it doesn't," Drake broke in. He moved closer so he could wrap both arms around his wife. Nuzzling into the side of her neck, he told her, "I love you either way."

"I didn't say I wouldn't still love her!" Liam exploded. "Don't put words in my mouth!"

"Oh, calm down," Riley admonished. "I don't even know if I'm pregnant yet. I thought you should both be here when I take the test, given that there's no way to know which one of you knocked me up."

Liam took a deep breath and tugged at his tie as mentally collected himself. An out of wedlock heir to the throne would be a scandal of epic proportions, but the thought was not entirely unwelcomed. "Right. Thank you for that. If this child is mine, I want to be involved every step of the way."

Riley gave him an affectionate smile. "See? I knew that, and that's why we're here, Right, babe?"

"Right." Drake released her and stepped back. "Are we sure it happened in Vegas? Because if it happened on our wedding night or during the honeymoon—"

"Or in the weeks leading up to the wedding?" Liam interjected. He had spent quite a bit of time helping the new duchess settle into her role. He had also helped her out of her clothes more often than not after a long day of diplomatic lessons.

Riley waved him off. "I had a period just before Vegas, that I remember. So if the baby is yours, it almost had to have happened in Vegas. After all, you were both inside me that night. When you weren't inside each other, that is." Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Drake's eyes met Liam's over the top of her head. Both men froze for a second as both faces flushed red, then both sets of eyes dropped quickly to the floor.

The night in Vegas had been wild, but they had never discussed it after the fact. Liam was out as bisexual, but it had been Drake's first and only experience with a man.

Drake was well aware of his wife's extracurricular activities with his best friend. He had no issues with it. In fact, images of Liam and Riley together fueled more of his fantasies than he liked to admit.

"Okay, I'm going to pee on this stick now!" She brandished it in front of them like a kid with a magic wand before disappearing into the attached bathroom.

The men made awkward small talk as they waited, both of them breathing out a sigh of relief when she returned, alleviating the danger of them having to address the elephant in the room, at least for the moment.

"Now we wait," she chirped. "Could one of you set a timer for two minutes?"

Liam had his phone out first. "Done!"

It was the longest two minutes of his life. He paced the floor, deep in thought as Riley and Drake sat on the settee, making plans for the weekend, laughing and touching each other frequently.

The timer dinged and all three heads snapped up. Three sets of eyes flitted from one person to the other to the bathroom door.

Riley stood and went to retrieve the answer to their question. She returned from the bathroom to both men's gazes locked on her with anticipation.

"The moment of truth…" she glanced down at the stick in her hand, feeling disappointment wash through her in place of the relief she had expected to feel. "It's negative. I'm not pregnant."

Drake's brows furrowed as he moved closer to her. "Are you okay? I thought that's the result you wanted, but you look sad."

Liam backed away from them. "I… just need a moment to process…"

He resumed his pacing as he grappled with an onslaught of mixed emotions.

No scandal, no awkward questions, no figuring out how to juggle schedules between three adults and two homes… but also no heir, no biological tie to the woman he loved, and no relief from the unrelenting pressure to marry and produce offspring. He stopped pacing and spun to face Drake. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"What did I say earlier?"

"That you didn't care whose baby it was."

"Right. Yeah…." Drake's eyes tracked from Liam to Riley and back again. "Why? There is no baby—"

"What if there were?"

Drake blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…." He crossed the room quickly and took Riley's hands in his. "Have a baby with me, Riley! On purpose!"

Giddiness bubbled up inside of her at the prospect. But he couldn't be serious, could he? "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Do you want to see me married to someone else?"

Riley's gaze slid to Drake as she considered if her answer would hurt him. But they had promised each other unrelenting honesty, no matter what. She returned her attention to Liam and shook her head.

"Then give me an heir so I don't have to marry…. Anyone, ever!"

"Is that even a thing that we can do?"

"Yes! It's not totally without precedence. I simply have to acknowledge the child and publicly legitimize him or her. Which I will!" He dropped down on one knee. "I know you're already married, but consider this an official proposal to be my royal consort. Openly. Move back to the palace. Take your rightful place by my side!"

Drake's throat cleared. "Um… hello? What are you doing?"

"Sorry!" Liam scrambled to his feet. "I may have gotten carried away there, but I'm serious. Do you honestly like living in Valtoria?"

"Not really," Drake admitted, "But I'd live in Antarctica if that's where my wife was."

"Then you're open to moving back home?"

A spark of jealousy flared through him, followed almost immediately by a pang of longing.

There was no doubt that he was in love with his wife. Helplessly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with her. But the night in Vegas had opened a door he had been avoiding peaking behind for his entire life, leaving him questioning the nature of his feelings for his best friend.

His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "I… what exactly are you proposing? That my wife shacks up with you? Where does that leave me?"

"I'm sorry if I wasn't clear. I meant both of you."

Drake's entire body stilled as his mind raced to interpret Liam's meaning. "Both of us…. what?”

Liam shrugged. "Whatever you want, whatever you'll allow. I want you both to move in. We've already agreed to this situation we find ourselves in with Riley. We can continue as we are, with her splitting time between our bedrooms or…"

"Or?" Drake struggled to keep the note of hopefulness out of his voice, sure that everyone in the room could hear the pounding of his heart.

With a smirk, Liam moved closer to him. "Or you and I can continue what we started in Vegas and see where it goes."

Blood rushed to his face, heating his cheeks as he nodded, then looked away.

"Great!" Liam turned back to Riley. "You don't have to answer right now if you're not ready. Take your time and—"

"Yes! I'll do it! We'll move in, I'll be your consort, we can have a baby! As long as Drake is okay with all of it, that is."

"I'm okay with it."

Liam felt a rush of happiness crash over him. "Can you stay tonight? I'd like to start working on that baby right away."

"Oh, I don't know if—"

"It's okay," Drake assured her. "If you want to stay, I can go pack some of our clothes and—"

"Actually," Liam interrupted, "I was hoping you could join us."

Drake's eyes widened, slid down Liam's body, then closed as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

The trajectory of his life was about to change. And he couldn't wait to see where it would take him.

#trr #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #trr au #trr poly #liam rys #drake walker #choices #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices stories you play

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oceanpulls · 9 months ago

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Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have a plan to soundtrack everything

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross – best friends and Nine Inch Nails bandmates – found unlikely creative fulfilment (and a couple of Oscars) by reassessing what they had to offer as musicians. Now they’re thinking even bigger, and imagining an artistic empire of their own making

By Zach Baron

Photography by Danielle Levitt

Every weekday, Trent Reznor makes his way from his house, a cottagey sprawl behind a white wall in a canyon on Los Angeles’s Westside, to a studio he’s built in his backyard. There he meets his best friend, bandmate, and business partner, Atticus Ross, and they get to work. Reznor and Ross observe the same hours, Monday to Friday, 11am to 7pm. “We show up,” Reznor told me. “We’re not late. We’re not coming in to start to fuck around.” It’s a methodical, orderly existence that Reznor could not have foreseen in the ’90s, when he was fronting Nine Inch Nails and struggling with a drug-and-alcohol problem that was his answer to success. “I would do anything to avoid writing a song,” Reznor said. “I’d rewire the studio 50 times.”

Now Reznor has a wife, Mariqueen Maandig, five children, and multiple jobs. He is sober. Since 2010, when the director David Fincher asked Reznor and Ross to score The Social Network, for which Reznor and Ross won an Oscar, the two men have had steady employment composing for film. This year, Reznor and Ross are also starting a yet-to-be-named company, built around storytelling in multiple disciplines: film production, fashion, a music festival, and a venture with Epic Games.

And then, of course, there is the oldest and perhaps still the most complicated of Reznor’s jobs: being the frontman of Nine Inch Nails. In 1988 Reznor formed what was then a one-man band; the first two full-length records Nine Inch Nails released, Pretty Hate Machine(1989) and The Downward Spiral (1994), have sold more than eight million copies. (Over subsequent years and subsequent albums, the band has since crossed the 20 million mark in sales.) In the ’90s, for a time, Nine Inch Nails were ubiquitous: a phenomenon on the level of Nirvana or Dr Dre. During that decade, the success of the band nearly killed Reznor. “I didn’t feel prepared to process how disorientating that was,” he said. “How much it can distort your personality.”

These days, Nine Inch Nails, which Ross joined as a full-time member in 2016, present a different problem – how do you make something old, something so already well-defined, new again? There are years when Reznor feels like he has the answers and years when he’s less certain. He has put the band on hiatus more than once; after the last Nine Inch Nails tour, in 2022, Reznor deliberately took a break from playing shows as well. “For the first time in a long time I wasn’t sure: what’s the tour going to say?” Reznor told me. “What do I have to say right now? We can still play those songs real good. Maybe we can come up with a new production. But it wasn’t screaming at me: this is what to do right now.”

But he and Ross still come to work, daily, in search of transcendence. “We sit in here every day,” Reznor said. “And a portion of the time organically becomes us just figuring out who we are as people and processing life and a kind of therapy session. And in those endless hours it’s come up: why do we want to do this? And the reason is because we both feel the most in touch with God and fulfilled.”

It is easy to make things when you are a teenager growing up in rural Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border, as Reznor was, and you have nothing to lose and everything to gain; it is considerably harder, once you’ve got older, and found a way to make things that people like, to keep going. It’s an old story: the act of creation can lift you up, but those sharp gifts can also destroy you, and if you make it past that, the sheer blissful regularity of life with money and a family can even you out so thoroughly that there is no friction left to work with. You look inside the cupboard and the cupboard is bare, or it’s a mansion and living inside of it is a person you’re bored of, and so you stop looking. But Reznor and Ross have never stopped looking, and the search for that magical feeling of finding something – that feeling of, in Reznor’s words, “I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know how I just did what I did, but I’ve channelled it into something that worked” – is still the thing that organises their days and their moods.

We were talking in their studio, which was low-lit and cold and full of synthesizers’ blinking lights. Reznor was on a sofa and Ross sat in a chair nearby. The two men first met in the ’90s, when Reznor signed Ross’s band, 12 Rounds, to Reznor’s Nothing Records. Soon after, they became friends, and then musical collaborators. “I was just getting sober,” Reznor said, “and I was in a pretty fragile transitional phase. And I just hit it off with Atticus right off the bat. And part of it was, he was someone who was on much firmer ground, in a mentor-y kind of way, than I was.”

Ross is two years younger than Reznor, but when they met, he’d already been through certain things Reznor was just getting around to. “I got clean when I was very young,” Ross told me. “So I had a bit more experience than him. Put it like this: I knew you could have fun without being high.”

Their friendship has been a constant in both their lives since. “I don’t know if parts of us are broken and we don’t feel good enough,” Reznor said, staring at the ceiling of the studio, “but we know if we work as hard as we can and do the best work we can, it fixes something. At the core of it, that’s what unites us creatively. On top of that, I think his take on the world and role in life helps me understand my place and not feel as detached in some ways.”

Reznor often jokes, or simply explains, that he is a “quart low” on whatever it is that makes people happy. “I think we can both, on our own devices, run below zero as a baseline,” Reznor said. “I don’t mean manic depression, I just mean we don’t take compliments well. It’s like when we won the Oscar, it was the day after: ‘Let’s take today guilt-free, kind of say fuck yeah.’ And tomorrow we’ll have settled back down to a few feet below sea level.”

In their years of collaborating with each other, both men have found some mutual reassurance – a little lift. Reznor gestured at Ross.

“I remember something he said to me – I don’t know if you want me to say this or not – in one of our talks years ago: ‘Here’s what I want today.’”

“I see what’s coming,” Ross said, nervously.

“I just want to feel OK,” Reznor said, quoting his friend. “I want to feel like I’m OK.”

One day this winter, Reznor greeted me at the door of their studio – in the course of reporting this story, I never saw him anywhere else – wearing a black hoodie made by the synthesizer company Moog, black jeans, and black running shoes. At 58, Reznor still retains the angular intensity and jet-black hair of his youth, but time and fatherhood seem to have made him quicker to smile. He looks a little like a college professor now, or an unusually-well-cared-for software engineer. He led me back, past walls of unused gear and several black-clad mannequins, all of which startled me, to their primary workspace, where Ross – a tall west Londoner (he grew up in Ladbroke Grove) with a stern face and a pleasantly reedy voice – sat at a computer, also all in black. (Once, I asked the two men whether their upcoming clothing line would feature any colour. “No,” Reznor said, incredulously. “Of course not.”)

They were on deadline for two films at the moment, including Luca Guadagnino’s forthcoming Queer. “But we’re trying not to work,” Reznor said, drily. Leaned up against one wall was a photo of the two in tuxedos, accepting the Academy Award for best original score for their work on The Social Network. Reznor had contributed to soundtracks before, in the ’90s, but he’d never formally scored a film until The Social Network.

But Reznor and Ross quickly realised that the work, in some ways, wasn’t so different from songwriting. “What do we do when we write a song?” Reznor asked. “We’re trying to emotionally connect with somebody.” Take the Mark Zuckerberg character in The Social Network:“Here’s somebody who thinks this idea is so important that it’s worth kind of fucking your friends over for it. And then realising maybe it wasn’t worth it, or I didn’t realise how I’d feel if I got what I wanted at the price of this. I can relate to that in my own language. Suddenly there’s music.”

“I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor said. “I couldn’t have predicted that I would feel this level of fulfilment.”

And Reznor found that he enjoyed the exercise of solving someone else’s problems instead of his own. “There’s something about not being the boss and working again in service to something that I initially felt guilty for feeling kind of fulfilled by in a weird way.”

Reznor said that on another Fincher film, Mank, the director suggested: “What if it sounded like maybe inspired by Bernard Herrmann and as if it were recorded in 1935 and this film canister sat on the shelf for 60 years?” OK, interesting. (Ross and Reznor were nominated for that one too.)

On the first film the two men scored for Guadagnino, Bones and All, “we got a cut of that that was nearly four hours long with no music and we kind of thought, Oh, fuck,” Reznor said. “Four hours we sat without a pee break, transfixed. It didn’t need music. And when you watch that you approach it differently.” Then Guadagnino brought them Challengers, due for worldwide release in April. Reznor said, “He started us down a path, saying, ‘What if it was very loud techno music through the whole film?’” (This is exactly what it turned out to be.)

“I wish I had his notes,” Ross said of Guadagnino. “His notes were so fucking funny on what each piece was meant to do.”

“Oh, yeah,” Reznor said. “‘Unending homoerotic desire.’ It was all a variation on those three words.”

They liked the challenge of scoring, they found, and that feeling of not being in control. They also liked the way it made them crave being in control again: “It makes you more inspired to work on other stuff when we’re finished,” Reznor said. “Even if it’s just, Thank God it’s done now and we can appreciate the freedom we had before we gave it up.”

These days, Reznor and Ross also like having jobs that let them be at home, around their families. Both men had tumultuous or lonely lives when they were younger; both men have found that fatherhood soothes certain unresolved aspects of their pasts. Ross has three kids, and “probably the greatest reward is how balanced and happy they all are compared to – certainly my growing up was an unusual sort of scenario. It was a fairly chaotic youth.” Ross comes from a notable English family, but his immediate lineage was more unstable. “My dad had a club called Flipper’s Roller Boogie Palace in LA in the ’70s,” Ross told me. “He went bankrupt in England and had a judgment passed against him where he couldn’t talk to a bank manager for 15 years. So he moved here and opened this sort of Studio 54 on roller skates on La Cienega and Santa Monica.” Ross held up a coffee-table book full of photos of the club. “You don’t need to look at it, but it was just a mad life. So I grew up in some madness.”

It is particularly endearing to see Reznor, who at a distance was a fierce and terrifying figure in his 20s and 30s, find domestic bliss. I am old enough that my adolescence coincided neatly with the S&M-flavoured, I wanna fuck you like an animal era of Nine Inch Nails; when I was leaving Reznor’s house one day, I noted with some amusement the cheerful mundanity of a basketball hoop in the backyard. “I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor told me. “I couldn’t have predicted that there was a world where I would have a sizeable family with kids and feel the level of fulfilment and comfort and be able to live in that.”

Was that something you were consciously seeking before you found it?

“I think I had some abandonment issues from my parents splitting up, or feeling I never fit in, and I’d gotten accustomed to being on my own. And largely due to my own, I think, inability to really be intimate with people, or share or be open or know how to be a friend or a partner to somebody… Trying that out and doing it with pure and full immersion has led to an unexpectedly great outcome.”

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

The other film project Reznor and Ross were on deadline for was Scott Derrickson’s The Gorge, a science-fiction thriller starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy. They were working on a lengthy, music-dependent scene that they’d already mostly scored. But, Ross said, “the director wants it to be a bit more, I can’t think of a better word than just a bit more scary and intense.” They weren’t sure what that directive meant, exactly, but they were content – they were happy – to try to figure it out: to enter the room once again, carrying nothing, and to try to leave it with something that didn’t exist before.

Ross called up the scene on a monitor at the centre of a long mixing board: Teller and Taylor-Joy in an evil-looking spiky forest. Reznor and Ross have somewhat fluid roles in their collaboration, but today the plan was for Reznor to improvise some music while Ross edited and manipulated it in real time. “Atticus’ superpower,” Reznor said, “is that I can come up with a melody and a chord change, and he can make that sit on the scene in a way that is meticulous, and mind-numbingly boring to watch him do.”

A studio assistant, also in all black, presented himself to help Reznor set up a microphone and a cello next to a keyboard that sat underneath another computer monitor. Ross hit play on the footage and what they’d already completed of the score, a kind of haunted, chanting murmur. “It’s basically atmosphere at the moment,” Ross said. Next to him was a synthesizer whose make and model he asked me not to print and which the two men use as a kind of sound ecosystem to feed stuff into.

Reznor began by pushing down on the piano’s keyboard, while with his other hand he manipulated the sound with a flat synthesizer on the desk in front of him. It began as a kind of mellow pan flute thing, and then, with a push of a few buttons, became more of a sad, Social Network-ish plonk. Ross stood up and started tapping the synthesizer to his left, and the sounds Reznor made began to loop and accumulate – little melodic figures that plunged in and out of feedback. Reznor moved from the piano to the microphone, where he sang a few soft passages in a baritone falsetto, more sad than spooky, and then to the cello, which he played slowly and choppily. Ross moved between the computer and the synthesizer, trying to harness it all as it built to a loud, echoing crescendo.

After about 20 minutes, Reznor sat back in his chair, and Ross soon followed suit. Everything got quiet again. “It’s going fishing,” Reznor said to me, shrugging. “Sometimes something happens.”

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Or, sometimes, everything happens. One of the first things you see when you arrive at Reznor’s home studio are two original paintings by the Yorkshire artist Russell Mills – on the left, a razor against a rusty red background; on the right, a decaying yellow-and-black collage – that ultimately became the insert and the cover art for Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral. This is the record with “Hurt” and “Closer” on it. It’s an album Reznor nearly didn’t survive.

Why do I bring this up? Well. If I may, for a moment, sound like the ageing dude in a black T-shirt leaning against the back wall of a bar where you’re just trying to be young and free of recitations of what the year 1994 felt like, there was a different quality to the way things would happen in music. Bands would labour for years, unknown, and then just get struck by lightning, is the best way I can put it: one day, you’re just a guy, and then one radio station plays your song, and then every radio station plays your song, and everyone is listening to those radio stations, because there is nothing else to do, and then MTV loops your video, and everyone watches it because, again, there is nothing else to do, and all of a sudden you are known by millions of bored people in a way that doesn’t quite happen now. This is a gross oversimplification, of course, but here Reznor is, one of the very few people who have experienced the thing I’m describing. I thought: let’s just ask him what that was like.

Reznor said, OK, he could tell me exactly what it felt like. He gave me a single moment: Woodstock ’94, which Nine Inch Nails almost didn’t play – “it seemed like it was going to be gross, to be honest with you” – but ultimately did. “And when we got there, it was terrifying,” Reznor said. “It was way bigger than I pictured in my head and walking on stage. But this is the point of the story: I knew. You could feel like you were in the right place at the right time.”

In retrospect, how did you handle success?

“Had a drink. That’s what sent me down the path. I wasn’t the guy that, you know, at 12 years old cracked a beer. That wasn’t it at all. Just, I feel anxious around people. I’m not sure how to act, especially now that you’re someone that’s supposed to act a certain way. There’s a projection. It feels uncomfortable to walk down the street and people are looking at you because they recognise you. That’s weird. Suddenly everybody wants to be your friend and you’re the coolest. Everyone wants to date you and shit like that.” Reznor said he found it was “easier to have a beer before I go in that room, and then a couple of beers before I go in that room. And pretty soon over a period of time, wait a minute, things start to get out of control. And you know how the story goes.”

Here’s how the story went: Reznor began to wonder if Trent Reznor could ever live up to the Nine Inch Nails guy that people had in their heads. “The reason I was having to drink was to fix that problem, my own insecurity. But the net result is: I’m not really who I am because now I’ve got drugs or alcohol in my system and I’m not thinking as who I really am. And that comes into focus once one gets sober and has time to reflect and kind of think about what got you there and shit you did.”

Eventually, Reznor got sober, and built himself back up. Today he’s happy to talk about all of it, obviously, but he and Ross have done a lot together since – 10 albums’ worth of Nine Inch Nails (Ross was an official member of the band for five of them), among other things – and Reznor is, by nature, not one to dwell too much on the past of a band that he’s still very much trying to figure out. “We’re not fans of resting on our laurels. We’ve been afraid of thinking about nostalgia. That’s a whole other conversation, but the reality is we’re getting older and our fans are getting older and that’s a fact. And I think, say, during the pandemic, not that you asked this question, but as I’m sure everybody was, I was pretty genuinely freaked out and very clearly came into focus: I’ve got to protect my family.”

He was consumed by fear, by terror of what might happen, of what he might do about it. “I can’t even fit all my kids in a car,” Reznor said. “But in the midst of that anxiety, sitting alone in here, I found comfort in nostalgia. I found comfort looking back at things from my youth that I’ve been afraid to even allow myself to glimpse at because it meant artistic death. Because one has to look forward. One can’t be self-referential. I was so afraid growing up in a little shitty town. I could see people that thought the highlight of their life is junior in high school catching the football. You know what I mean? That’s it. That was the peak. I don’t want to fucking be that person. I could see my fate if I stayed in that town.”

In those moments sitting by yourself, what were you getting nostalgic for?

“I miss parts of living in Pennsylvania. I miss a simpler life that I grew up with. I really loved the first INXS album in 1983. I was a senior in high school, and when I listen to it now I could almost start crying because it fucking reminds me of driving in a shitty fucking car in the summer in Pennsylvania. You know what I mean? Man. I allowed myself to kind of immerse myself in who I was at that time, and what it felt like.”

Reznor had been trying to remake himself ever since he left where he grew up, and now here he is in Los Angeles, over 40 years later. “And I kind of went on a deep dive for a while and allowed myself to realise: I am who I am. And the things that made me weren’t the cool things. I’d always been ashamed of: I came from a shitty town; I didn’t have an exotic upbringing; shitty education, you know what I mean? That’s who I am. I’m not sure what the point of all that confession was.”

Well, except: “It plays into where I’m at now.”

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The last time I saw Reznor and Ross, it was once again in their studio. They were sitting very still. Had they been working before I got there?

“We were for a little bit,” Ross said. “And then nervously thinking about you arriving.”

Really? It’s OK if that’s the truth.

“That’s the truth,” Reznor said. They’d just been in this room for the past weeks, months – years, really, he said. Head down. Working. He gestured at me. “It’s a different mindset.”

And “I was thinking about something you said the other day,” Reznor said. That was on a Friday. I’d asked a somewhat rude question about their soundtrack work, which was: why would Reznor or Ross work for anyone else when they didn’t have to?

Now it was Monday. “I thought about that over the weekend,” Reznor said. “It’s like, Why are we doing this? The idea comes from what we think is a good place of ‘Let’s break it up. Let’s get sent down the rabbit hole on certain things and feel like we’ve got tasks being assigned to us rather than us just blindly seeing what happens creatively.’ ”

But, he said, “I think coming out of a stretch of a number of films in a row, I want some time of seeing where the wind blows versus: there’s a looming date on a calendar coming up and we’d better get our shit together. And certainly in the last few weeks I’ve been itching to do what we often do, which is just come in and let’s start something that we’re not even sure what it’s for.”

Some of that energy, he and Ross said, would probably become the next Nine Inch Nails album. Doing soundtrack work, Reznor said, had “managed to make Nine Inch Nails feel way more exciting than it had been in the past few years. I’d kind of let it atrophy a bit in my mind for a variety of reasons.”

But now, “I do feel excited about starting on the next record,” Ross said. “I think we’re in a place now where we kind of have an idea.”

And then there was the company, which Reznor and Ross spent the last two years putting together, piece by piece, with the help of John Crawford, their longtime art director, and the producer Jonathan Pavesi. The idea was, what could they do that they hadn’t already done around storytelling? Some of that might take the form of examining Nine Inch Nails from yet another angle – “we’ve been working on homegrown IP around Nine Inch Nails, stories we could tell, and we’re working on developing those in a way that are not what you think they’d be.” (As in: not a biopic.) They also have a show in development with Christopher Storer, the creator of The Bear, they said, and a film with the veteran horror director Mike Flanagan.

Reznor put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses so that he could examine a piece of paper next to him. “We just wrote some notes because I knew I’d forget what the fuck I’m about to say.” There was a short film coming with the artist Susanne Deeken. There was a clothing venture, a T-shirt line made in collaboration with a notable designer whose name they’d like to keep secret for now, which will arrive this summer. There was a music festival that they were currently planning, “where we’re going to debut as performing as composers along with a roster of other interesting people,” and a record label, both scheduled to launch around the same time.

And for two years they’ve been working with Epic Games on something that is not exactly a video game, in the UEFN ecosystem Epic has built around Fortnite – “It’s what Zuckerberg was trying to bullshit us into calling the metaverse,” Reznor said. “You can’t say that word any more, but in terms of the tool kit, thinking about it through the lens of what could be possible for artists and experiences, we thought that would be an interesting way to tell a story through that.”

They were nervously contemplating the prospect of having day jobs again, of being responsible for more than just themselves. Early on, as they contemplated launching the company, they’d sat down with David Fincher to ask him about movie production: how does it work? “And he’s like, oh, you’re fucked,” Reznor said. “I can distil a two-hour conversation into that. Because, he said, ‘I know you guys, and no one’s going to care more than you do, and you will not be able to let it go.’”

Reznor has actually had this experience before, of being sucked into a project bigger than Nine Inch Nails and having it take over his entire life. Years ago he worked as an executive, first for Beats and then for Apple, building a streaming-music service.

“Trent was very clear when we started,” Ross said. “We cannot let this get into Apple terrain.”

Reznor laughed. “What I mean by that is – I will make this brief; I’m trying to think through what I’m about to talk shit on. Just to self-censor for a second.”

Reznor paused for a moment and then explained. For years, he said, he’d wondered: what would make a good streaming service? This was before the advent of Spotify in the US or Apple Music. Jimmy Iovine, Reznor’s old label boss – later, Iovine would also become Ross’s brother-in-law, after he married Ross’s sister, Liberty, in 2016 – was launching a music service at Beats, which was then acquired by Apple, and Iovine said to Reznor: come try to make this thing a reality. And Reznor surprised himself by saying yes.

“It was a unique opportunity to work at the biggest company in the world at a high level,” Reznor said. “And it was interesting, the scale of the people that you reach through those platforms, just the global amount of influence those platforms can have was exciting. The political situation I was dropped into was not as exciting.”

Reznor enjoyed working with Apple’s design team and its engineering team. “But it made me realise how much I want to be an artist first and foremost.” Reznor also became discouraged with the possibility of fixing the problem that he was trying to solve. “I think the terrible payout of streaming services has mortally wounded a whole tier of artists that make being an artist unsustainable. And it’s great if you’re Drake, and it’s not great if you’re Grizzly Bear. And the reality is: take a look around. We’ve had enough time for the whole ‘All the boats rise’ argument to see they don’t all rise. Those boats rise. These boats don’t. They can’t make money in any means. And I think that’s bad for art. And I thought maybe at Apple there could be influence to pay in a more fair or significant way, because a lot of these services are just a rounding error compared to what comes in elsewhere, unlike Spotify where their whole business is that. But that’s tied to a lot of other political things and label issues, and everyone’s trying to hold onto their little piece of the pie and it is what it is. I also realise, I think that people just want to turn the faucet on and have music come in. They’re not really concerned about all the romantic shit I thought mattered.”

Anyway, Reznor said, turning to Ross, “That was a long-winded way of saying, when we talked about this company, I just said, ‘Be aware of what success might look like because it will turn into something that eats up lots of cycles and time and attention and energy.’ ”

But, Ross said, taking on new responsibilities was, paradoxically, also a way to stay a little younger. “I know we’ve all been talking about being dads and being adults and all that,” Ross said, “and there is a part of me that thinks: it’s important to keep the kid alive.” Meaning the child inside yourself, rather than the one you’re responsible for.

He told a story about him and Reznor visiting the director David Lynch at his house to work with him on the 2017 revival of Twin Peaks. “And I don’t know how old he was at the time,” Ross said, “but he was older. But just walking in there, and he had the room set up and there’s a screen there, there’s some chairs here and there’s some musical instruments there and he’s smoking a cigarette. There’s nothing old about that dude. You know what I mean?”

Lynch showed them some Lynchian footage. It was incredible, even if they didn’t quite know what they were looking at. Lynch was probably 70 or 71 at the time. “But it’s that thing of it doesn’t matter how old he is,” Ross said. “He is alive. It’s that bit of it all that one doesn’t want to lose with age.”

The point was, Reznor said: “Let’s try some stuff. We’re bored. We are. You know what I mean? We’re grateful. We enjoy doing films. We can write a better Nine Inch Nails record, I think. We can put on a cooler tour. We are aimed to do that. But man, what if we try to do that?” Meaning, the company. “What if we could take what we’re good at, like we did with film? We identified something I think we’re good at and we figured out how to apply it to something else. What if we take that theory and try it on some other things? And that’s led us into: we’re not beaten down completely yet. And it feels exciting. That’s what matters to us right now.”

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

Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu Grooming by Johnny Stuntz using Dior Capture Totale Hyalushot SFX Makeup by Malina Stearns Grills by Alligator Jesus Tailoring by Yelena Travkina Set design by Lizzie Lang at 11th House Agency Produced by Emily O’Meara at JN Production

#my ninposting #my transcription #trent reznor #atticus ross #nin #nine inch nails #trent #reznor #gq

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ladythornofrivia · 1 year ago

Text

birthday sleep

Shinichiro has been rejected once again, bleeding from a fight. Scarring the girl away was the last thing he needs. His nights were filled up with nightmares—Mikey’s death. Working for the last several years as a nurse, his efforts of saving Mikey, hoping Mikey would heal and recover from the incident has made him more distraught. On the night of his birthday, his friend dragged him out for a celebration at Wakasa’s establishment. What better way to start the night is when they brought tons of girls who are interested in Shinichiro. Uninterested, he went out for a smoke and met a girl with a tattoo, who is more than meets the eye.

pair: Shinichiro x Reader

warnings: sad moments. fluff. smut. mentions of the original timeline. Shinichiro being lonely yet thirsty. fluff/comfort. happy ending. Mdni. Nsfw.

A/N: happy very belated birthday to Shinichiro, who has earned 20 rejections than Leonardo DiCaprio’s Oscar award. At least Shinichiro handles rejections better than…you already know who.

There hasn’t been a day where Shinichiro wouldn’t stop himself from liking one girl to the next. Better than sulking on a corner, he goes up to the next pretty girl he sees at the most random time. And fate hasn’t been kind to him; he got beat up in a fight. When he asked the girl out, his entire forehead bled. He was out, drunk from drinking stupidly and clumsily.

The girl screamed and scrammed, leaving poor Shinichiro out alone on the dark road outside of the closed shop with a saddened look adorned his face with his head slung forward; the bleeding made a whole mess. This is going to look like a crime scene. He called his friends, and as usual, his friends made fun of him for not getting the girl properly. The definition of properly is a foreign concept to Shinichiro.

On this current night, the memories of his bleeding forehead has been long forgotten; every pain he received was in the past. And though hurtful, he’d rather have physical pain than the memories of his younger brother.

Mikey.

When Shinichiro took a caregiving class for an eternal dedication his brother, hoping Mikey would heal, Shinichiro hadn’t realized the world was falling apart around him. Emma packed and bailed without a word, Haruchiyo and Takeomi are still in a ‘no speaking’ terms and Shinichiro’s grandpa passed away. He needed a distraction, to which by liking girls from afar and courting girls, which lead to his epic failure. No words can describe how much he hated being rejected, but it won’t mean he’ll surrender to despair.

But if anything, Shinichiro got sleepy and sloopy, as of late. Mikey’s passing affected Shinichiro so much he wouldn’t help himself to have coping mechanisms. Everything is just a survival tactic, out and in of his world. His body felt numb, but he needed his aggression to release from the painful forlorn he endured from sleepless nights from sacrificing his life as a leader of Black Dragons, and studying to become a caretaker for Mikey.

One night, Wakasa, who has now been established as the own of the nightclub. Wakasa is popular among the ladies, but he never beds with them unless he’s interested in someone that caught his eye.

That is the difference between Shinichiro and Wakasa. Every girl is special in Shinichiro’s eyes, but Wakasa wanted someone who stands out from all the rest of gravitating Wakasa himself. On that night, Wakasa sat beside his long time friend, smoking, as they watched the quiet field with tension air encompassing them. Not even the wind could soothe the darkness inside Shinichiro.

“I’m glad Mikey’s dead. I’d rather have him not suffer when he’s alive,” Wakasa stated.

“Without Mikey, I don’t know how I’m able to cope,” Shinichiro said, slouching his aching back. “I can’t do shit. Everything has gone wrong in my life. Grandpa’s dead, and Emma left. I shouldn’t have neglected her while I was taking care of Mikey. I could only wish that if there’s anything I would like to have back, it would happiness and family.”

Wakasa inhaled the cold air. “You like having family someday. And you like the idea of having someone in your life. It’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad? I got rejected before I even open my mouth,” Shinichiro responded. “The last girl rejected me while my head was bleeding.”

“Well, that’s what you get for being reckless.” Wakasa puffed. “Tell you what, since it’s your birthday today, let’s hang out tonight. It’s on me, Shin. You hang out, get drunk, get any girl that you wanted as long as you’re serious on courting her. Who knows, maybe she’ll take a liking to you. After all, I have a keen eye for special ones. Anybody can be anybody, but as long as they stick out like a sore thumb—in a good way—then everything will fall into place.”

Shinchiro’s sleepless eyes remained motionless. “Mind if I ask where are we heading tonight?”

Looking at the back over his shoulder blade, Wakasa’s lips curved upwards. “I think you know where.”

~~~

Music banged into his ears as his drink refilled for the second glass. The nightclub Wakasa established is excellent. Service, the appearance, the atmosphere, Shinichiro almost feels as if the life of loneliness and hard work has been paid off, despite Mikey’s passing took a toll on him. Everything has been brushed off, forgotten, as if his experiences on taking care of Mikey is non-existent.

Shinichiro closed his eyes, head laying back at the sofa frame to lean on, relaxed. Shinichiro barely looked around, not to girls, at least. One by one, the girls approached Shinichiro to spend time on the floor. While Wakasa encouraged, since he knows that Shinichiro has a thing for girls. Surprisingly, Shinichiro rejected him, which got Wakasa shook. The girls, nonetheless, went onto the dance floor, some hung out with other men who are available for a long chat.

“I thought you said you like girls,” Wakasa assumed. “You love girls, I know you do. Every where you go, when you see girls, you never miss your chance on flirting with them.”

“Not in the mood to talk,” Shinichiro blurted. “I’m just tired. I want to go to sleep and forget about all this shit.”

Wakasa leaned forward. “It’s your birthday today. Loosen up a little. I know there’s still there, the optimistic Shinichiro. You used to smile and laugh, even when beaten down, because you know that you can get through any obstacle.”

“Well, things changed,” Shinichiro whispered to himself.

“It’s not too late to remedy the damages.”

“Can you say the same when my family is dead and gone?”

Sighing, Wakasa snapped his fingers, and one of the servants came over for Wakasa to whisper in the servant’s ear. Minutes later, a lady in blue arrived and went near towards Shinichiro, who was taking a nap at the moment. By the time the lady touched, Shinichiro seized her hand, nearly breaking the bone on her wrist, but quickened his reflex on letting go, thus, leaving the nightclub by saying good night to Wakasa. Not interested in seeing Wakasa’s reaction, Shinichiro decided to end the night by going to a convenience store.

~~~

The convenient store is vacant and soundless, which he preferred. No matter how he looks at his life, he’d rather have quietness once in a while. He may want thrill and adventure, but there comes a time when he needed a quiet space, unlike Wakasa or Takeomi, who preferred to parade themselves with ladies and drinks and loud music. To his previous goals, he wanted to have own a bike shop, but when dreams hit harsh reality, there’s nothing more than an ultimate despair coming at anyone’s way. Everyone’s happiness loses everything when the path changes without a sudden warning. And even if it does, people are still in despair. Life is tough road unless being filthy rich. Though coming from a prestigious family, even when rich, some rich families treated their children as if they’re nothing. Hard work and resilience is all anyone has. Shinichiro soon gave up his dream bike shop to look out for Mikey until his death in July.

“What a mess,” he said to himself. He only bought himself some snacks, soda and a pack of cigarettes. As he went outside the store for a smoking break, he got his lighter to switch it on, but never worked. No matter how much forced he puts in, he wanted to fill in with the familiar taste.

“Need help there, handsome,” a voice said behind him.

Startled, Shincihiro turned around and glanced at girl, who stopped out of the shadows with her thick and baggy leather jacket, red sleeve jumper, covered limb to limb with combat boots. It was cold out at night, her hands tucked into the pockets. Her long curls framed against her gentle face as she took out the lighter she kept with her. As Shinichiro nodded, coaxed, you switched the lighter on and watched as his cigarette lit.

His watchful eyes took every inch and every detail of your visage. You are beautiful, no doubt. Unlike the girls in the club. You exuded quiet confidence, very womanly, even dressing in modest yet alluringly tight-fitted outfit.

“You come here often,” Shinichiro asked.

You squawked a short guffaw. “Is that your pick up line?”

“No,” he said. “I just thought it’s dangerous for a wonderful gorgeous woman like you to be out here alone in the night. There has been stalkers and kidnappers and killers alike.”

Chortling, you said, “Very sweet of you to think of me this way.” The stroke his face, which Shinichiro’s reaction stiffened, then softened at your touch; his face leaned in further, swaying, a little tipsy.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m fine. I just got out from my birthday celebration.”

“Not good?”

“It’s good, but…not my kind of night,” he answered. “I just need peace and quiet. Too many things going all at once.”

“I understand.” Your eyes flickered from his face to his tall stature, still tipsy. “Want me to take you home?”

As you came forward, Shinichiro’s face dropped onto your chest, lulling.

“What’s your address, I’ll take you home.”

Instead of answering you, Shinichiro became unresponsive.

Slinging his arm over your shoulder. Luckily, you didn’t pack up too much stuff , just a phone wallet and cigarettes and lighter carried in your pockets, and carried him all the way back to your apartment. Inside of your apartment, it’s cold and clean, you placed Shinichiro down on the couch with cushioned pillows and thick blanket. Unpacking the snacks and ramen noodles, you strolled into the kitchen and heated up the ramen for him, while making ginger tea in the process with also a glass of sweet orange juice came prepared in case he didn’t like the ginger tea.

Microwave beeped, and the noodles are heated and softened, along with cooked meat you prepped in case of emergency comes. After a long preparation, you set the meal on the table in front of sleeping Shinichiro. After that, you took a long warm shower and changed your casual clothes into comforting ones. One of your arms is covered in whole blue phoenix tattoo. And by the time you returned back at the living room to check on Shinichiro, he woke up from a smell of ramen and ate with his eyes closed, sleepy and peaceful, slurping the savored soup and the contents. He looked adorable while eating. He took the mug off the table and drank the ginger tea. It was a bit bitter so you put the honey in case he hated the taste. To your success, he loved the taste of tea. After a strong alcohol sinking into the digestive system, it must’ve been hurtful. Whatever he’s experiencing at the moment, he needed a moment of solace. After eating the snacks, he went for the orange juice. He hummed, and somehow thanked you even though you haven’t been approaching him. You wanted to give him space out of respect.

Thank god no one else was living with you. Having freedom can be so nice, especially having a handsome man in your place.

Clearing your throat, Shinichiro turned around and saw you with a smile resting on his sleepy face.

“How’s the meal?”

“It’s great,” he said, his back slumping.

“Don’t force yourself to be awake,” you reminded him, perching with your legs stretched near towards Shinichiro’s thigh. Placing your hands over him, you adjusted his slouching back. His face turned green at his drunken state.

“The bathroom’s nearby. I can take you there,” you suggested.

Shinichiro’s hazy eyes gazed at you for a moment. Time stopped for him, his breath taken, his heart palpitated by the sight of your mature beauty. Even after a clean shower, you are more than just a beauty. With your one piece pajama, the blue ink of a koi fish tattoo displayed on your right thigh as you relaxed. Shinichiro’s heart thumped loudly against his ears. This time, it wasn’t from being drunk. He admired you more and more as his anxiety risen from you being so close to him on the couch. The fainted scent wafted through nostrils; his head became fuzzier with dying consciousness. He never met you before; hasn’t seen you around in the parts everywhere in Japan. Maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough.

“Have we ever met?” he asked.

“No, this is our first time meeting each other,” you said, positioning your arm on the couch frame. “Why? Did we meet somewhere?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just…you sound different.”

Perplexed, your head tilted. “Different? How so?”

“You don’t sound native,” he blurted, blushing. “I hope I didn’t offend you or anything.”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’ve been trying to study Japanese ever since I got here.”

“How long?”

“Around two years total,” you answered.

Whistling, Shinichiro splayed himself back at the couch frame, lifting one foot up. “I’m impressed. Not everyone handles Japanese easy. How did you learn it so fast?”

You shrugged. “Boredom.”

“Boredom? You mean you don’t have…”

“I neither have friends or anyone to converse with. Let’s just say that I’m in my own head space,” you explained.

“I see…” Shinichiro looked down at his drink, then drained the liquid substance into his throat as he eyed on you. “Didn’t mean to get drunk on you. It must’ve been a lot to take in.”

Shrugging, you said, “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“Today’s my birthday.”

Smiling, you greeted him. But it remains noticeable when his expression wasn’t changing. “Sounds like you’re having a rough time. Do you want to talk about it?”

Placing the glass down, Shinichiro sighed, though his breath was uneven, shaking each time he exhaled. “I couldn’t celebrate without remembering that day.”

“What day?”

“The day when my brother passed away.” Shinicihiro’s steadied hand shielded on his face. “I couldn’t bear to acknowledge of my brother’s passing with acceptance. It’s all of my fault. If only I didn’t buy the airplane.”

“You’re only trying to make him happy. I don’t think it’s your fault,” you reasoned.

“But it was,” he objected. “I didn’t watch him closely. With much responsibility, I had to make sure I do everything I can to make him stay alive, hoping for the better result. Deep down, I knew that his condition got worse. Even his friends saw him the last time. If only I didn’t make that little error, it could’ve change everything. I shouldn’t have bought that plane.” By then, Shinichiro broke down into tears.

You scooted closer to him, rubbing on his back as your arm encompassed him, emitting a hush sound. “Shhh…everything will be alright, I know this. Even when your brother passed away, I’m sure that, somewhere, his soul is at peace. I’m sure that he’s happy that you took care of him the entire time.”

“I neglected everything that surrounds me. I neglected Emma,” he reasoned. “She packed and left, not knowing where she is. My grandfather died. And Mikey was the only family I have left. I have no one in my life now.”

“You have friends,” you assumed.

“My friends won’t understand,” he wept, sniffling. “That’s why I got drunk, because of Wakasa. He wanted me to get my mind off of Mikey by dragging me into a club and get a girl to mingle with. It wasn’t great. I was zoning out from life before me. I wasn’t having it.”

Your hand smoothed his back, noticing his breath began to steady after releasing the frustration he held in. Your eyes prickled with hot sensation, trying not to breakdown in front of him, but came up with a notion of subsiding the emotional pain. “I have 3 large packs of ice cream in the freezer. Sometimes desserts can set a good mood and lessens the tension. Just tell me which flavor you want and I’ll scoop it up for you.”

Shinichiro’s heart thudded. It wasn’t the alcohol again. One thing’s for sure for how the sensation clamored inside him. He felt…light. And right. Everything’s…quiet. His heart rate dissipated to tranquil as his eyes looked at you. Deep into the very soul of your eyes, he felt himself tranced, balanced between mind and heart—his old self was dying to get out. But each time he wants it out, the flooding memories of his old life might hurt him again. He wanted peace now. But how he can have peace when being silent within consistency. He’s not a young leader rebelled Black Dragons anymore. He’s just a young man with a burden scarred him.

You leaned back, separating yourself from him. “We’ll eat every junk food up. I swear, this can be the best method, but taking care of yourself in a healthy lifestyle. But first, junk food!” Then slowly, you stood up. “I know a place where they have the best pizza and burger and nacho cheese—nacho cheese are great! It comes with blue raspberry slushy, or cherry, if you like it more than the blue raspberry. And we could watch any movie that you like—trust me, watching comedy can be fun! Oh, and if you want something else, we can order sushi but with wasabi and katsu curry, and then we can add another pile of food we can ea—”

Snatching your wrist, he pulled you in for a kiss. Groaning, your long locks tucked back under his hand, tangling his tongue with yours, saliva thickened as you two share a heated passion he yearned. You nearly collapsed at his sudden yank, nearly knocking off the coffee table, but Shinichiro remedied it with his both hands steadying you by the waist, slithering the lines on your body. With a quiet hum, his lips lead to nibbling your cheek, kissing it lightly, almost his softer side is shown.

“You’re tickling me,” you sighed in exhilaration.

He pulled his head to see your flushed expression. “Where have you been all of my life?”

“Studying and doing things alone by myself without anyone being there for me,” you answered, cheeky. In a flash, you gave him a wink.

“Gee,” Shinichiro began, “I find it hard to believe that a beautiful woman is standing before me.”

Shaking your head, you said, “I’m not beautiful.”

Refusing your reply, “Beautiful doesn’t cover up how it feels or looks. I just know a beautiful soul when I see one.”

You said nothing, eyeing him with anticipation glimmering from your eyes.

“It’s pretty corny,” he admitted, his face flushed, index finger scratched the cheek below the eye.

Your hand rested on his face. “God, you’re so cute!” Tip of your nose rubbed against his as you let out a tiny squeal. Shinichiro watched you, his heart elated, eagerly pulling you closer to his body frame even though your bodies touched, he deepened the force, leaving you gasping, though not in a bad way.

“You want to get to know each other more? Unless you want to take a nap, it’s up to you,” you asked, eyes sparkling, hands wrapped around his neck, your lips are inches away to poke his.

His dark, cloudless eyes burned into your eyes as you watched it gleam. The misery etched on his lips faded into something more.

~~~

The door slammed open as you shared another long kiss with Shinichiro without falling or looking at your surroundings. Quiet sighs as your kisses went sloppy, and hungrier than the first. Once he rested you on an open futon bed, he placed you, laying down on your belly.

“Aaahh, Shinichiro!” your moans erected as Shinichiro took off of your tights shorts and spanked you ass.

“You’re such a slut, do you know that?” he said, his breath tickled your ass as he gave no warning when his teeth gnawed on your naked skin.

“Ahh,” you moaned out once more, turning yourself around as your legs spread before him. “Please fuck me! Right here, in my wet pussy. Lick me, fuck me, destroy me.”

Shinichiro watched as his stature towere over you, a beguiling creature displayed before him. He has collected porn than dates in his lifetime, but seeing you, he wanted to take a slow, showing trust as newfound partners.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice had gone indistinct.

But you can distinguished the mood in his tone.

“You won’t hurt me,” you assured him, indicating him to move closer. “You won’t hurt me,” you repeated, plopping your kisses.

Shinichiro took into a consideration and unrestricted his attire. His black, baggy shirt came off as his pants are assisted by you. When his pants came undone, your hands clamped on his underwear, brought down as you spotted thick and lush hairlines—his happy trail downwards to his long and thick cock, leaking out with thick semen. His cold fingers pressed your tattooed skin, numbed clit throbbed at his touch.

Shinichiro could see your eyes begging him to rut you. His hands splayed and held your leg, kissing your inner thigh, then your lips as his cock shoved into your tight walls. With your wailed moans, Shinchiro sped his stamina. He hasn’t felt this good since the Black Dragon days. He had spent his life chasing girls who don’t approve of him, not even his weakened state, not even at his worst, or even as himself. His days during with Mikey, he rarely looked at girls, even when girls asked him to be their date, they only do it to get closer to Wakasa or Takeomi. Shinichiro is neither like them. Wakasa is quietly fierce while Takeomi is a chaotic and unruly. They both get girls but none of them stick in the next few months. With Shinichiro, he wanted something more than a simple date. Realizing his family his gone, all that’s left for him is to make a new one, but diving further to despair was the only way.

“More! Yes!” you groaned loudly, gyrating. His hot and thick cock fit you perfectly. The tip of his long, hardened cock pressed roughly against your g-spot. With a hot wave clambered into your body, Shinichiro picked up his pace and slammed it again onto your g-spot, earning a louder moans compare to previously. Fingers clawed onto his lanky, muscular backside, Shinichiro felt wet and warm blood stinging in cold air. His thrusts grew harder; with his few pounding movements, he felt your walls tightened, twitched against him.

“Shin,” you wailed into his hair, biting your lower lips.

“Argh,” he said, “hold me tight, baby.”

Despite the bleak memories he held with him, it was about time to end.

Tip of his cock twitch, leaking a hot seed into your hole. With countless immeasurable sighs, your bodies melded into one when Shinichiro laid beside you and held you in his arms, face to face. “I love you, (y/n),” he said. “I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you. Your wrongs, your struggles, your greatest strength and joy—everything. I want to be there with you until the end. I want us to stay together.” His hand brushed your locks. With his soft touch lingered, your heart prickled.

“I love you more,” you said, weeping.

He kissed atop off of your hairline, then your nose, lips, and rubbed his nose together with yours. “Will you please go on a date with me,” he said with a shy voice. He’s not like Wakasa or Takeomi, Shinichiro knows what he wanted, what he needed. With you, all his inner turmoil with work and personal life and Mikey’s passing, Shinichiro wasn’t worried anymore. Shinichiro wanted an eternal happiness with you at his side, even with a scorching hell in life, he rekindled.

Chortling, you said, “How can I say no to a handsome man like you?”

Not long after, your bodies shifted under the washed sheets, no longer needing the heater.

By the end of the night, after a total of five rounds of intensive sexual intercourse, Shinichiro’s head rested in between your breasts. His soft, and disheveled, black hair played in between your fingers. Kissing his messy hair, you said, “Happy Birthday, Shinichiro.”

~~~

When Shinichiro got out from your house after sharing wonderful breakfast and a heated kiss, he spotted Wakasa approaching him with dreadful silence.

With a smile, Wakasa uttered, “Are you winning, Shin?”

please report if anyone decides to steal/plagiarize my work and notify me. thank you.

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kirkirk · 6 months ago

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I think I know what Rejet's next move could be for DL (Soft theory)

-- Rejet's slogan for 2023: REVAMP -reform-. From IwaD's X account

I have a hunch they might have cooked an epic comeback in 2023 and we're already seeing the first hints about where it all could lead to.

Today I was welcomed by every diaboy as kids when I opened twitter and, despite being a pleasant surprise (they all look adorable) it got me thinking.

Before anything, keep in mind that this is only a thought exercise. I myself admit this scenario might be too optimistic.

This last year, IwaD became quite active on their socials (at least from my POV). Doing polls about which merch lines people prefer, minor coloring preferences, interest checks... In their ongoing projects, they intend to open a new cafe, concept room, and store.

Lately, they've been doing a lot of recruitment posts, even going to the extent of making their own website for job listings. That one being:

In their tweet about this, IwaD says the following:

Clearly hinting at Rejet coming back into game/CD development (even tho he might be just doing some damage control).

Coming back to their new merch release (at the time I'm writing this, Millennium Summer, the one with them as kids with sunflowers), the title instantly catches my attention. As the last time they did merch of their younger selves, the set starts with the word 'Millennium'. As if they were trying to build a separate SUBbrand around them as kiddos.

To me, this is interesting in itself, because I enjoy marketing a lot, but this could hint at something bigger. Another odd thing they did lately was releasing YUI MERCH!!! (happy screaming SFX) and for it, they did 7 whole Yui outfits. Kind of a LOT for people that before weren't even thinking about doing any merch with her.

If you think about it, there are tons to say about the diaboys' childhoods. It's true that we know some big canon events, but, taking into account how many years they've been alive, it wouldn't be difficult for them to add some new content there. I know I don't talk for everyone here, but I believe their childhoods to be one of the most fascinating aspects of DL's lore.

Hear me out, what were the last story-related things Rejet released? Daylight and Youngblood. Yes, Youngblood, the mangas about them as children. They were already thinking about this before going on this nightmare of a hiatus.

I truly believe Rejet's next move could be a new game with their childhood selves as protagonists, with Yui taking the role of a storyteller/narrator and using some of her merch outfits as new sprites. She could even be a Karlheinz-like figure, that tries to give advice to the children from time to time.

I haven't researched the personal situation of all of DL's seiyuus, but I know there have been some controversies (such as Ruki's VA getting seriously canceled when the whole DL hiatus thing was starting). This could help avoid any backlash since they'd have to cast new people to do their kiddie voices. This would also be way cheaper for them since most of DL's seiyuus are very famous. No matter how I think about it, this would be a flawless move for them. Heck, they could even lure into DL some of the people who are afraid of the brand due to its original bad press if they turn it into a whole subbrand (which they're already starting to do) with a separate new name and a pretty makeover on top.

On the other hand, if they want to go for drama CDs first, I don't think they would do them from their baby POVs, depending on the voice, they could sound really annoying for a 1 hour CD + I doubt people would buy them at all. In that case, they might do a first run of CDs with the original VA cast (this would also allow them to test whether the public cares about canceled VAs) with our guys retelling a main event from each of their childhoods. This could be a direct segue into a game that would explain each of the new old conflicts.

Again, I know this is foolishly optimistic, I myself I'm hopefully skeptical, but I hope you've enjoyed this thought exercise. Who knows, maybe there's a timeline where Millennium Devils is a thing, or maybe I come from the future.

Update: THEY JUST DID A 4KOMA WITH THEIR MILLENNIUM SUMMER ILLUSTRATION I'M VIBRATING I KNEW IT AAAA

#diabolik lovers #dialovers

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ittybittyluci · 9 months ago

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Not me eagerly awaiting Epic the Musical’s Underworld Saga release because I feel like it’s going to make for some KILLER HH crossover in the form of horrific Lucifer angst. Like, I’ve already got some ideas flowing. Whether anything comes of them who knows? Whether I remember them? WHO KNOWS. But as of right now? MMM so excited.

Like, just picture this w/ me for a second (I’m gonna put my brain-rot fantasies after the cut for all of y’all who could not give less of a shit):

Imagine the song “The Underworld.”

“This land confuses your mind / When does a man become a monster? / 558 men who died under your command”

It starts with Lucifer closing his eyes, then opening them in like a pitch black environment.

“Captain, Captain, Captain, Captain!”

The first three have of him running into like— more angelic spears which corral him into a corner. The last one he like looks up at just sees ALL the angels glaring at him.

“Why would you let the Cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy!”

Here I imagine it starts w/ flashbacks of him giving Eve the apple. Then, there’s is like a giant black snake forms from/behind/around the angel and in some way like kinda just.. “consumes” Lucifer, like it jumps up in the air, comes back down on him. He flinched, and when he opens his eyes again he’s alone, on the ground in Hell, covered in blood, and has his demonic traits showing. Idk, just something super symbolically horrific that would def be something u see in a nightmare.

“All I hear are screams… / Every time I dare to close my eyes / I no longer dream / Only nightmares of those who’ve died. / (Nothing’s what it seems) Nothing’s what it seems / but in the underworld the past seems close behind”

Here Lucifer is just looking around at all the carnage and graphic depictions Hell has to offer. I also imagine at some point he sees his own demonic form and like— physically jumps back in fear/repulsion. Just like real graphic, horrific, nightmare fuel. The frames go by somewhat quickly, just a jumbled mess of gore and violence and terror.

“I keep thinking of the infant from that night / I keep thinking of the infant from that night.”

The like gorey images get faster, but also mixed in are actual images of him falling, angellic spears, him giving Eve the apple, Lilith, basically everything that you could imagine is part of his trauma. Like, they just flash by the screen faster and faster on repeat until u can’t even rlly tell what they are anymore. Then, after the second repeat of the verse, the music stops abruptly and he sits up straight in bed, looks around, realizes it was a dream, then it’s just a wide shot of him alone in his room, looking haunted and tired but not panicked anymore.

Idk if I would want him to be staying at the Hotel, or in his castle in his big like King sized bed w/ half the bed not slept in, but either way yummy angst.

——

Haha, oops, went on a little ramble there. Oh well. Hopefully someone will care and agree that this would be bombed. Or not. Who rlly gives a shit? Not me, I just needed to write this down XD.

I also have another idea for the song No Longer You but I’m not gonna go on a whole spiel, and instead just say it starts at “But that’s not a world I know” w/ Luci looking in the mirror at his demon form. Then form “I see a song of past romance” onward is Lucifer reflecting back on Lilith, the apple, his Fall, etc. Then finally on “But it’s no longer you” flash back to present day Lucifer who kinda just sighs and (maybe) sheaths his demonic attributes sadly/ashamed oh b4 walking away.

—

MMM don’t u love when you just have all the ideas but you forgot your stylus at home so you can’t even TRY to attempt to start a project ur never gonna finish?

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lordharmony · 3 months ago

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🌈✨CRINGETOBER 2024✨🌈 DAY 9: CHILDHOOD VIDEO GAME

MySims folks, HI!!! I’ve been obsessed with the original MySims lately, so I made an introduction page for my player character!

LOTS of reminiscing under the cut, SORRY Y'ALL.

I recently got a Wii, but I haven't gotten too many games for it yet! EXCEPT for MySims! MySims is one of those foundational game series for me that I just love so much. Kingdom was maybe the most fun I remember having, and then Agents literally changed my brain chemistry. I'm very glad two of the games are getting released on the Switch. I'm going to collect and play all of them in order, and no joke, that's probably going to take a long time, because I take Sims building SOOO seriously. Maybe I'll do introductions for all my protags though, who knows!

ANYWAYS, this is Cala Mint! Cala was NOT my original MySims character as a child, tbh I don't really remember the Sim I made at all. I do know every single one I did make back then was super edgy, super goth. And absolutely no hate for that, I may do that for another character, but I just didn’t feel it for the first MySims game! And an idea struck me while messing in the character creator!

A long time ago, I completed the Not So Berry Challenge for the Sims 4! All ten gens! I wish I still had my screenshots, but unfortunately they all got blasted into the ether when I transferred my files from a different computer. However, I did draw ONE of my characters. My founder, Cala DeBerry!

Her fashion wasn't...GREAT lol, but I LOVED her. She was a mad scientist, her best friend at the lab was Caleb Vatore, she married Eva Capricciosa from Partihaus because they were always at the club together, she was enemies with Vlad. It was just so fun, I loved that entire challenge so much even though it took me FOUR years to do.

Now, Cala lives on in MySims! I imagine she's still a scientist type, but definitely more chill compared to the other scientists in this series. She's absolutely judging the fact that so many people in the town love to decorate with red apples. My first best friend was Vincent Skullfinder, because the museum was so fun to build. It'll probably take me a bit to get to Five Stars and fill in all my lots, BUT, I'm sooo enjoying replaying the game despite how poorly it runs. Seriously, I don't know how they made it run so bad but my Wii is screaming whenever it first loads anything.

I based this sheet on the Relationship book, if I had more time I would definitely have doodled more, but the MySims style is actually really really hard for me for some reason. More studies in the future will be needed for sure.

ANYWAYS, thanks for reading, you're epic and incredible. <3

#mysims #mysims wii #mysims (game)#cringetober #cringetober 2024

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rubylarkspur22 · 3 days ago

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So! I've been listening to the Ithaca Saga like a madwoman. And I have thoughts.

I am no musician, I am no classicist. I am merely a gremlin with suspected ADHD and so many feelings about the finale to this musical.

Firstly, Anna Lea's voice is angelic. Ma'am, who was your vocal coach?! I WILL be belting to The Challenge until the end of my days, no one can stop me!

Penelope is just... Amazing. She's dedicated to her husband, and so cunning in delaying her remarriage as long as possible. If that ain't love, I dunno what is!

Ayron Alexander did such a good job, his voice is smooth like butter! And his acting is a thing of beauty!

That being said, Antinous deserved all of what he got. I would have gone to jail if I ever did the things I was ready to do to Antinous. It's a testament to the acting that I wanted to commit war crimes on him, though.

Hold Them Down was amazing in terms of vocals. Subject matter(namely the plot to SA Penelope) is a bit iffy, but I still enjoyed the song. Good tune. And also Antinous getting interrupted by an arrow to the neck, as he deserves!

Odysseus had me with goosebumps, people! The opening was amazing, and the sounds of the arrows flying and hitting suitors?! Especially that moment where Ody is doing a rapid fire at folks?! Jalapeño Man cooked, and gave us a Michelin Star Gourmet Meal!

Open Arms reference. Buddy immediately became a kebab for daring to use the Polites Method. The fools.

Telemachus trying to fight back, and being used as a hostage against his father? Oh, the suitors made a mistake, and it went horribly!

Jorge, the growling!!! That bridge, the way Odysseus genuinely sounded like a feral beast, he was going full Papa Bear, and ready to maul everyone who dared hurt his family!

The screams! Oh, the screams as Ody massacred every single suitor that dared to invade his palace!

Telemachus and Odysseus reuniting!

ATHENA!!! ATHENA IS HERE!!!

I loved the soft moment she and Odysseus had, talking about a gentler world! It makes it feel... Like a full circle moment. Kinda like Eliza gasping at the end of WLWDWTYS in Hamilton. It's that feeling that one of them knows the audience is there, trying to inspire the hope of that kinder world.

ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE REUNION WHDBDHANWKXDPSIFBEHA *melts into a puddle*

This. WYFILWMA was the song that had me misty-eyed. ICHBW is a close second. To finally see Odysseus, after all the pain and suffering and struggle he went through, finally get home and hug his son and wife! Finally be home, finally get the one thing he wanted!

The olive tree bed! They included that! I'm no classicist, but I know about Penelope testing Odysseus with their wedding bed! JORGE INCLUDED IT!! And Odysseus having a little rant about the bed when Penelope tells him to move it!

The sheer joy in Penelope's voice as she sings "Only my husband would know that, so I guess it's really you!" She's so happy to finally have the love of her life back, and it brings me to tears every damn time!

I imagine during that instrumental reprise of Just A Man, Odysseus and Penelope are kissing. They're kissing with the passion only twenty years kept apart can create, and crying as they soak each other in for the first time in those twenty years. They've missed each other so much, and released every last ounce of love they couldn't express while apart in that moment.

TL; DR Jorge Rivera-Herrans, the man you are! Cooked, and the meal was worth the entire cast's weight in gold. This saga, and the whole musical, will be the only thing in my headphones for the next week, and will be getting played at least once daily afterwards.

I only got into Epic between the original Cyclops Saga and the Ocean Saga. I have not been here since the demos and the open auditions, like some fans. My love started by stumbling across Warrior of the Mind on TikTok. My list of Epic songs started with just Warrior of the Mind and My Goodbye, then eventually expanded to every song in this musical. And yet I still have enjoyed every last second of the process I was able to witness. I have laughed, I have cried. This musical has become one of, if not my favourite musical ever. My favourite music ever. I can't stop listening to it. Rarely do I see an Epic song while playing other music, and skip it when it comes. This will continue to be one of my comforts for a very long time. Of that, I'm certain.

I wish all the best to the Epic team. All of them. For their success, for their health, for everything good to come their way. They deserve it for all the hard work and dedication that went into this beautiful project. I hope we get to see it either on stage or on screen someday. Until then, I will happily watch animatics from the amazing and dedicated artists. And maybe I'll experiment a bit with my own? Who knows!

#epic the musical #epic the ithaca saga

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cherrylng · 17 days ago

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Green Day interview - UNO! DOS! TRE! [ROCKIN'ON (September 2012)]

The fastest interview just before Summer Sonic! The band talks about their new album trilogy in its entirety!

UNO! DOS! TRE! GREEN DAY

Interview by AKEMI NAKAMURA Photographs by YURI HASEGAWA

"It's unmistakably a 100% “Green Day album” and we can now say we're in the prime of our lives because we're able to do that."

What the fuck is this! They've made not one, but three incredible albums, bursting with outrageous energy that make you want to scream. Green Day is extremely ambitious in releasing their ninth album as a trilogy called "Uno!", "Dos!", and "Tre!", one album every two months starting in September, an unprecedented and ambitious feat that no one will ever pull off again. The reason this masterpiece, which could be called Green Day's version of the "Rock Encyclopedia", was created in the first place is because of "American Idiot", which they completed in 2004 and which is considered the most important album of the first decade of the 21st century. An outright critique of the Bush administration in an America that had fallen silent in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, the all too righteous album was arguably the riskiest gamble in their career history, but the most politically charged album ever sold 15 million copies worldwide and was greeted with great acclaim. And they continued their momentum with 2009's 21st Century Breakdown, their second rock opera, which went to number one in 21 countries around the world. It is truly astonishing. Having pierced the zeitgeist so boldly and shared it with the masses around the world, Green Day did not grow weary here, but instead accumulated an unprecedented sense of achievement and positive energy. And the creative solution to releasing all that energy was this high-powered "party" trilogy. Feeling that they had done it all, the band came back to their 'roots' and tackled this work with a fresh start.

The good news for long-time fans is that the band themselves have revisited Green Day's early golden years, including "Dookie," and started production with the aim of "returning to their roots". However, after attempting to "return to their roots", they went further back in time, to their youth, and revisited the origins of rock music for themselves. The result is a work that is both autobiographical and a summary of Green Day's history, tracing the band's path from there to the present day. If we organise the three albums, "Uno!", which aims for arena rock like AC/DC and power pop like the early Beatles, is a work that depicts a longing for the youth, while "Dos!", which resonates with garage rock influenced by the Stooges, depicts the "sex, drugs, and rock and roll" of adolescence. And the third album, "Tre!", is an epic work that sums up the current Green Day, who have already released two historic rock operas. The trilogy of 37 songs and 130 minutes in total is so thoroughly high-tension that you can't help but wonder if this is a new album from a band that has been together for more than 20 years.

More importantly, their new Green Day Sound, which is more about jubilation, excitement and emotion than political messages, is needed here for American rock, or even America as a whole, which has become introspective in the decade since the terrorist attacks. In other words, the band, who became America's heroes in the post-terrorist conflict, have once again made a new chapter for America here, and once again have created a work that will lead America to a new chapter and break out of its shell, at an excellent time. Green Day is always right!

With Summer Sonic coming up soon, there is no doubt that they will come in with the super high tension of having created a triumphant return to their roots, so it is essential to head to the venue with high enthusiasm and high expectations! -Akemi Nakamura

BILLY* JOE ARMSTRONG & MIKE DIRNT & TRE COOL INTERVIEW

"The first one is a little foreplay, the second one is sex, and the third one is something we have to apologise for (laughs)."

First of all, when I heard that you were going to release three albums this time, "Uno!", "Dos!", and "Tres!", I thought it was a crazy idea, but also genius in many ways. The previous two albums were very political, had strong messages, and had a rock opera concept, but this time, even the title tells us that you've removed the seriousness. However, the sheer volume of the album also clearly shows that you guys have not lost any momentum. In that sense, I came here today with quite high expectations, and I just listened to all three albums and was blown away. It's like you've been reborn, and the content makes me feel like you're starting something new, and the energy and tension was so high that I was overwhelmed. So, first of all, I'd like to ask you frankly how on earth this came about. Billie: 「Anyway, after making “21st Century Breakdown”, I really felt renewed and refreshed. With “21st Century Breakdown”, I had the distinct feeling that one era of us had ended. So it seemed like we had the freedom to carve out a new era from there, and it was up to us to use that opportunity or not. So we started writing songs straight away, and the first ones we wrote were “Nuclear Family”, “Stay the Night”, and “Carpe Diem”, which happened to be the first three songs on the album (laughs). Then we decided to go in the direction of power pop, and we ended up with a lot of melody-driven songs, with lyrics that were more personal and not so much political in their message, and the album as a whole became a work that was not dark, but had a sunny feel to it.」

In short, is it just the sense of achievement after "21st Century Breakdown" and the fresh feeling you got from it that allowed you to generate so much high tension and energy again? Mike: 「Yes, I suppose so. Anyway, we started off by trying to get back to a garage-rock approach, and we decided to just jam together. And whenever we jam together, it always feels like a new connection is formed, and as we kept rehearsing, a new groove was born. And then we got into it. It was so intense that no one could stop us.」 Tre: 「Of course we were influenced by a lot of things on the way here, and you could say that we developed very naturally while vaguely absorbing them. For example, the starting point for such an epic songwriting career had to do with witnessing the birth of the "American Idiot" musical. That was a very significant event. We were surrounded by so many talented and creative people that it really stimulated our creativity. Also, the "21st Century Breakdown" tour was great. Basically, we had a sense of accomplishment that we had accomplished everything we had to do with "American Idiot" and "21st Century Breakdown". That's why I think we were like, "Now it's time to have fun and play to our heart's content!" It was like, "Let's have sex!" (laughs)」 Everyone: 「(laughing)」 Mike: 「Let's just take our pants off! (laughs)」 Tre: 「Let's take our dicks out! (laughs)」 Mike: 「(laughs) Let's have some fun.」

(laughs). You recently stated that you guys are ‘currently in the most creative period of your career’, but I imagine it's pretty rare for people to start a punk band at a young age, and then to be in the most creative period of your career at a year when you are all turning 40 this year. Billie: 「It's like we've been getting better and better and now we're here. So, for example, I think it's the same with jazz musicians, but sometimes it's only when you get older that you really hit your stride. I think we've always developed slowly and naturally as a band while making albums, and we've always tried to do that. We've never tried to force ourselves to go in a direction that we thought was right in our heads, we've just tried to make something that comes from our truth. So sometimes we look back and realise how much we've changed with each album. So, because we've been building up our experience over the years, we had a huge pool of creativity when we made this album. So it's like we've got a lot of weapons in our arteries, we can rock really hard, we can write ballads, we can do garage rock, we can do power pop, and we could make all of that sound like "Green Day". That's how this album came about. Only we could have made this album, it's unmistakably a 100% "Green Day" album, and I think we can say that we're in the prime of our lives now that we're able to do that.」

So, when I listened to these three albums, it seemed to me that these were three complete albums as a whole, did you ever think of releasing all three at once? Mike: 「I thought it would be better to put them out one at a time separately. Because I thought that way everyone could really understand and digest each one. And it was made in such a way that the moment you finish listening to one album, you'll be excited and think, "I want to hear the next album!" So we set the time period between albums to be six weeks, so there wouldn't be too much time between albums. I also thought it was an exciting way to release something like this. On the other hand, if you suddenly gave me three songs at once, I'd be absolutely overwhelmed (laughs).」 Tre: 「So, you know, you can think of it like this. If we released it as a triple album, there would be one Green Day album this year, which means that the fun would end after just one release. Instead, we're going to have three new Green Day albums! Wouldn't that be great? Simply put, this year is all about Green Day. This year is all about Green Day. So get ready! Come along!」 Mike: 「So, (the first one) is a little foreplay, (the second one) we had sex, and then at the end is something we have to apologise for (laughs).」 Tre: 「So from now on, when people ask me what year it is, I have to say 'The year of Green Day!' We'll have a dragon face with three of our faces added to the Chinese zodiac (laughs).」

(laughs). These three albums seem like a movie depicting a certain coming-of-age story. The first one focuses on your early teens and youth, and is the starting point for rock listeners, the second one is about the struggles of becoming an adult, and the third one is a song about actually becoming an adult, or rather, it seems to have a development that summarises what you learned in each era. Did you intend to depict each album as you grew older? Or did you have a theme for each album? Billie: 「Yeah, the first one is definitely about youth, as you say, but the second one is about sex, sexual desire, and has a red-light district vibe, so it's more of a garage rock, party record. So the third one is definitely epic, but at the same time it's about self-reflection and self-projection.」

The second one, then, is a "sex, drugs & rock'n'roll" album, isn't it? Everyone: 「Yes!」

So, I'd like to ask you again about the lyrics of the first album: where on earth did lyrics like ‘I kissed your lips’, ‘I don't wanna say goodbye’ and ‘Will you be my girlfriend*’ come from? Where do they come from in terms of youthfulness, haste, eternity and a perspective on life from an early teenage point of view? Billie: 「Well, there's a point here where I kind of wrote the lyrics with my voice as an instrument to express something, and I didn't put too much emphasis on what I was actually saying there (laughs). So, for example, the song that says something like ‘Will you be my girlfriend’ is called "Angel Blue", and in that song…… Yeah, it's definitely like a look into my past, and I guess you could say that it's a footprint of my teenage years. It's like, "You're Angel Blue with teenage traces / Angel Blue with pretty faces". So, yes, I think you could say that the first album is a look back at my innocent days.」

Right. But why did you decide to look back at your youth now? Billie: 「Well, maybe I'm………… Hmmm well…… I wonder why?」 Mike: 「Because sometimes you just don't think about it.」

"We didn't set a goal to make three albums from the beginning, but it ended up being three. I mean, I think it's a testament to how much we enjoyed making music together."

(laughs) I think it's too specific and focused to have come out without thinking about it. So, for example, your son. Billie: 「Okay! So this is what I mean. So with the first one, we wanted to make a great record that really represents our origins, the classic "Green Day" record. So we looked back to the days of "Dookie" and "Kerplunk", but we wanted to bring it back as a modern interpretation. Because people often ask me, "Are you not going to make any more albums like the ones you made back then?" And every time I say, "Of course I will!", but if I were to make such an album, I should make it when I really want to make an album like that, not because I've had an idea that it's time to live my youth again, but only when I feel that this is the only way to make it now, when I really feel it in my heart. And now was the time.」

Instead of making three albums this time, did anyone ask you if you could pick a few songs from each and make them into one album? I think kids these days are happy listening to just one song from an album, and the fact that it's three albums means you're challenging your audience in these times. So I think there must have been a necessity amongst you guys that this album had to be three albums by all means. Billie: 「Yeah, but there wasn't a particular reason why it had to be three albums, and in this case, there was no assignment like, “I have to write about this”. However, first and foremost, we just wanted to make music and write songs. Of course, we've always done everything on an epic level…… But in this case, we didn't even intend to do that at all, and it just ended up like this. We didn't set a goal to make three albums from the beginning, but it ended up being three. I mean, the album came from such a really pure place, and I think it's a testament to how much we enjoyed making music together. Because it really felt like a whole new rebirth, like we were starting a band from scratch. It felt like we joined a whole new band without breaking up the band. So, ultimately, that's what this album is about, just playing music and having fun. So I think that's clearly reflected when you listen to the songs. Every song is really tight and it's clear that all three of us are on the same page.」

The first album is power pop and the second is garage. Can you be a bit more specific and describe the direction you were aiming for in terms of sound and the bands you were influenced by on each album? Billie: 「Well, for the first power pop album, I would say we were influenced by Cheap Trick's “Surrender”, the early sound of The Beatles, and even The Knack. And for the second garage album, I went from the “Nuggets” compilation to aiming for the Amboy Dukes and The Stooges. And for the third album, I can't really explain it, but it reflects more of what Green Day is now, or it expresses what we've learned from our past. So I don't really think about the musical influences, it's just what I wanted to play at the time.」

You said you wanted to make a classic Green Day album for the first album, but did you have any big goals for the three albums? From power pop to garage and the current "Green Day sound," it's like a depiction of the growth process of one person's life through music, and it felt like a Green Day version of the "Rock Encyclopedia." I felt like you were also playing a role in that, for example, if a child who wants to listen to rock music asks you which albums they should listen to, you could just tell them to listen to these three albums. Billie: 「Actually, that's what we thought too, and we thought it would be great if the kids could listen to these three albums and decide which one they liked best out of them. Because I'm sure there are parts of these albums that each of us can relate to, and I felt like they would reflect who we are as human beings. I thought that would be interesting. I wanted people to listen to all three albums, and of course I wanted them to like all three, but I also wanted them to decide which one they liked best. I mean, I thought that would be the audience's projection of themselves, and of course our projection of ourselves. It would be great if each person could collect their favourite songs and make a compilation album out of them.」

"We’re “No Future” and that's why we're living every moment to the fullest. I think that's exactly what this album represents."

So you didn't set any special goals, but the result is an album that you hope people will listen to in that way? Mike: 「Yeah, we just wanted to make good music.」 Billie: 「Yeah, we didn't have any clear goals, we didn't really know what our goals were or what the future was, and we didn't really think about those things from the beginning. Especially with this album, there was no agenda, and that's the beautiful thing about this album. So I don't think there are any typical singles on this album. It's true that "Oh Love" will be released as a single, but I think this album has the potential to go beyond that and expand in many different ways. So I'm thinking of doing a multi-media, home-video kind of video on YouTube, and I'm also thinking of making a solid music video. Anyway, the possibilities are all there, but we haven't decided anything about the future yet. We're "No Future" and that's why we're living every moment to the fullest. I think that's exactly what this album represents.」

Last year was 2011, the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and I personally thought about what was the most important thing in the music scene of the last decade, and I still think the most important album of the last decade was "American Idiot". America was almost frozen in silence for three years after the terrorist attacks, and we had always thought that rock music was strong in the face of adversity, but in reality, other than you guys, Bruce Springsteen was the only one who could speak for what we wanted to say and turn the tables on the situation. And the more time passes, the more I realise the greatness of that album, including how it was expressed. Earlier, you said that you depicted party time in this album because of the sense of accomplishment you felt from "American Idiot" to "21st Century Breakdown" and the musical "American Idiot." Because you made an album that strongly connected to those politics and times, you felt that it was time to move forward as a feeling within the band, but at the same time, did you feel that this kind of work was necessary to lighten the mood a little and move forward, for example, for the whole of America, to not to take the atmosphere too seriously anymore? Billie: 「I would say that such things should follow the laws of nature, or let nature take its course. So I think the American government should let things move forward naturally in the direction that things are going. So, for example, if it were now, I think it's already time to establish a health insurance system in America, so I think we should follow the natural flow and establish it without going against it…….. In a way, we allowed ourselves to make these three albums, it's a bit like establishing a health insurance system, I mean, we didn't want to go against the laws of nature that came from within us (laughs).」 Mike: 「Well, because we've created this, there's even the possibility that we'll be in a crisis where we'll absolutely need to establish a health insurance system (laughs).」 Everyone: 「(laughing)」 Tre: 「We felt like with this album, once again, we've kind of filled a hole in what's missing in the world today.」 Billie: 「Yeah.」 Tre: 「When “American Idiot” was made, there were no people anywhere who were saying what needed to be said at the time, so we filled that missing hole with “American Idiot”. So I don't think there's anyone out there now making music that people really feel something. So we wanted to fill that hole now. I mean we wanted to make music that would make those people really feel something.」

So it's a festive album, but if the audience can really feel something from this album, you really want them to feel something from it. Tre: 「Yes, that's right. Besides, there's so much more to feel on this album.」 Mike: 「Really, seriously (laughs)」 Billie: 「Yeah, yeah. I think so…… Um, well…… I don't know…… But anyway, I mean, you know, seriously, because I think it's really, really crazy. I think it was a really crazy idea. So, quite frankly, I myself still can't believe the fact that we've actually completed something like this.」 Mike: 「(laughs)」 Billie: 「Because I think the idea of doing three albums could have easily gone wrong. But we actually did it. And no one had ever done it before, and I don't think anyone will ever do it again. And we've done it. Yeah.」

"In the world today, there is no one who is making music that people can really feel something. So we're trying to fill that hole with this album."

That's right. You said that it's something that people feel now. For example, I thought that "Kill the DJ" from "Uno!" was the best song that Green Day had ever made, but judging from the title alone, it seemed like it was a rebellion against the dance scene, which is now huge and empty, especially in America. Mike: 「I had been telling Billy for a long time that I wanted to write a song with a dance beat, with four beats. I wanted to see what would happen if Green Day did that. So, while we were working on the album, Billie actually came in with a song he'd written to try it out, played it and said, "Tell me what you think?" and Billie walked out of the room. And the moment the song started, I was like, "Oh man, are you serious?" (laughs).」 Tre: 「"Yeah!" (laughs)」 Mike: 「Then we took it from there and jammed on it as a band in a rock 'n' roll style and finished it. It's also about the noise that surrounds us, so "Kill the DJ" is a metaphor, I'm not actually saying I want to kill the DJ, but I might want to kill the VJ. For example, kill that guy from TMZ (news/gossip website)! (laughs).」 Tre: 「It's also funny that even though it's a dance song, he sings "Kill the DJ".」

We're running out of time, so I'd like you to tell me a little bit about a few songs, firstly about the single "Oh Love" and then the magnificent and epic "Forgotten" that closes the three albums. Can you tell us about them? Both of them touch on love, how did they come about? Billie: 「"Oh Love" was written as a spotlight ballad. I started with a guitar riff and it almost sounded like a cross between AC/DC and Queen, but a Green Day version of it. And then, umm, I wrote that song with the intention of just grabbing your heart and never letting go. It's almost like a love addiction. Well, I wrote that song with that in mind, and then the last song, "Forgotten," is kind of a song that kind of reflects and embodies everything you've heard on "Uno!", "Dos!", and "Tre!" It's the song that sums up the three albums, the real grand finale. It's also a torch song, so it's like a sentimental love song.」

What about "Amy" from "Dos!"? Billie: 「Amy Winehouse.」

Why did you want to sing about her? Billie: 「I was really sad that she passed away because I thought she was a really great artist and I thought the music scene lost a really big presence because of her death. She was someone who could sing modern versions of old soul music, and I think it's really hard to find someone like that these days.」

Finally, you are all 40 this year and show no signs of slowing down. In the almost 25 years since you formed the band, how far have you come, and where do you plan to go from here? Billie: 「Wow (laughs). Weeeeeell, let's see. We…… So we're all alive at the moment, you know. So as long as the three of us are alive, we'll keep making music. Other than that, I can't think of any other plans at all.」

Understood. Thank you very much! Everyone: 「Thank you!」

Translator's Note: A few things to note.

-Yes, that is a typo on Billie’s name and I’m keeping it there for posterity’s sake, no matter how much Google Docs is trying to correct me. And in case you’re wondering, this is the second time that I encountered this typo. It will not be unusual if I encounter it again in some other magazine.

-In the text of the interview, it really did say “Will you be my girlfriend? (僕の彼女になってくれないか)”, and Billie did confirm that it was from the song ‘Angel Blue’, but the line in the lyric was really written as “Won’t you be my bloody valentine?” So I assume that for some reason, the editor chose a far more polite wording and I chose to keep it that way.

Please do support me via my ko-fi! ☕

#Billie Joe Armstrong #Mike Dirnt #Tre Cool #Green Day #Trilogy era #my scan #translation #interview #ROCKIN'ON #ROCKIN'ON September 2012

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sitp-recs · 1 year ago

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HP Rec Fest, Day 28

I’ve been reccing underrated fics since this blog was created and so I thought “there’s no easier @hprecfest prompt than this one” lol famous last words, this post took me ages to prepare 😂 I was initially overwhelmed by the amount of fics that came to mind, and going through my bookmarks and old recs only made it worse. How was I supposed to shortlist?? In the end I gave up and decided to rec 2 Drarry fics + 2 rare pairs. I could have included so many more but I really didn’t want this to become a tl;dr post and these rec blurbs are already going out of control, so here we go!

Day 28) an under-rated fic:

Drarry

In Dreams by @moonflower-rose (E, 38k)

Harry wasn't expecting to ever see Draco Malfoy again. He also wasn't expecting to walk into a political conspiracy that morning either, but apparently that's exactly what the day has in store for him.

I’ve screamed quite a few times about this fic (see my rec here) and every time I do it’s in the hopes that more folks will stop whatever they’re doing and go feast on this. not only a delicious and intriguing case fic with Rosie’s trademark epic dialogue and superb sense of humour, this also wins the award of best fic opening I have ever read. the way I gasped at chapter one and am forever haunted by its utterly devastating ending oh my god!!! my heart belongs to this gritty Harry, and the slow burn is masterfully crafted within the urgency of their teamwork to solve the mystery combining comfort, grief and hope in a thrilling, poignant and perfectly paced adventure. plus, the emotional payoff is chef’s kiss, honestly I cannot recommend this enough!

Survival of the Species by @romaine2424 (E, 47k)

Draco approaches Harry on the 9 ¾ platform, after their sons have boarded the Hogwarts Express, and invites him over for tea. The discussion they have leads them on an adventure that neither could have expected. There be dragons! HPDH compliant but before any other canon info had been released.

considering this masterpiece was published back in 2007 I think I’m allowed to say this is definitely a formative story when it comes to the creature genre, more specifically Veela fic. I first read this a couple years ago and my jaw legit dropped at the amount of world-building and carefully researched lore that went into this. so detailed and intricate and different from everything I’ve seen before or since, I was truly fascinated and couldn’t stop reading. kudos to the amazing slow burn covering years of their struggles stuck together in a dragon cave and having to rely on each other to survive. I loved seeing the hardships and how they genuinely came to care for each other, definitely one of the most moving and convincing Veela love stories I’ve read in the fandom.

Rare pair

With a Look by earlybloomingparentheses (Ginny + Deamus, E, 5k)

Now, twenty years old and done with boys and looking forward very much to putting her hand down some lucky girl’s shirt later this evening, Ginny looks at Dean Thomas’s gold-painted fingernails and feels heat pool between her legs.

I think about this fic every now and then - such a sensitive, thought-provoking and beautiful homage to the 🏳️‍🌈 community. the visceral and contemplative tone takes it beyond your regular PWP, and I’ve rarely seen gender and queerness explored quite like this. seeing Ginny figuring out and owning her identify is mesmerizing. her voice is powerful, sexy, earnest and articulates so many complex and layered feelings - I was particularly moved by the inner turmoil of not looking “queer enough”. I’m sure this fic will be eye-opening and comforting to so many people out there, and that’s why I never cease to rec it. an intimate character study, a sinfully hot and self-indulgent threesome but above anything, a poignant love letter to the queer community.

Passion, Patents, and Pen Pals at the Ministry by @violetclarity and @yrfrndfrnkly, art by @anaxandria-writes and @veelawings (Hermione/Pansy, T, 32k)

After an extremely ill-timed lovers'-tiff-turned-food-fight at the Ministry leaves her less one boyfriend and suspended without pay for six months, Hermione pleads for some position–anything–to fill her days until her suspension is up. The good news is, her temporary position in the Magical Games & Sports's Ludicrous Patents office is just down the corridor from Harry's office in General Inquiries. The bad news is Harry's officemate is Pansy Parkinson, the Ministry's operations are shockingly outdated, and every altercation between Hermione and Pansy winds up a headline in MoM's internal rogue gossip zine, Hot Goss.

rivals to secret pen pals to lovers yes please?? this hilarious Pansmione is a ship triumph and yet criminally underrated. I had a blast getting into the world of Ministry gossip & politics, and immediately fell in love with all the characters, l especially with this lovely meddling Harry. it’s SO MUCH FUN to watch poor him (and Blaise omg what a duo) in the middle of a ladies’ tug of war. I’m impressed by the amount of world-building especially around their workplace, not to mention all the side interactions and the fun, organic slow burn. I love this take on identity porn with tons of banter and Pansy and Mione connecting through their shared worldview and feminist principles, such a power couple ✊🏼 the mix of semi-epistolary, witty dialogue, dorky meddling friends and mild angst make for peak entertaining, I laughed non-stop and cheered so bad for them. femslash ftw!!!

#hprecfest2023 #day 28 #an underrated fic

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deathsplaything · 5 months ago

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Location: The Good Keep Timing: Right after Part 1 Parties: Alistair (@deathsplaything), Daiyu (@bountyhaunter) Emilio (@mortemoppetere), Vic (@natusvincere) Mack (@realmackross) FT: Zane, Winnifred, Kirk, & Aleksander Summary: The Keep breaks out into chaos, cue the epic fighting montage! Content Warnings: gun use, suicide (act of, not emotional), head trauma (zombie death), medical blood (artery/vein mentions)

“It should have never come to this, but —” She would never finish the sentence.

The relief of being reunited was short-lived. Daiyu stopped in her tracks when the alarms started blaring and if it wasn’t for the fact that her hands were busy and bloodied, she would have slammed the palms of them against her ears. All had seemed to be going so well and she’d believed, at the sight of her fellow ‘team members’ that it would continue to go well.

It was a good plan, wasn’t it? It was a good plan. They had vetted those deserving. They had sprayed down every room with lighter fluid, rigged explosives where they had needed to. Daiyu trusted the others to have done the same, mostly because Emilio had been with them. What was left now was to enter the last few rooms and clear them, finish their destruction by ruining the records and head out, light a match and drive as far away as they could as the Keep burned. But —

The alarms were blaring. Lights rotated threateningly. It didn’t take long for the sound of more bodies moving to join the cacophony. Daiyu’s heightened senses were overloading but at least doing their job. “The cells,” she said, something about her first day at the Keep echoing in her mind. There was a button that opened them all, one that should not be touched by her, ever. A big red, do-not-touch button that should be hard to reach — but they had just released a bunch of powerful supernatural creatures, and there was a big chance the button had not been designed with super strength taken into account. “Fuck!”

No more explanation came just yet as she checked her pistol’s magazine, clicking it in and flicking off the safety and echoing the number ten in her head, for the number of bullets. Daiyu turned around to where the sounds were coming from — ready to aim and shoot when necessary. Then, over her shoulder: “They’re coming.” The ones not dead yet, the ones not freed yet who didn’t even know they were going to be freed and could be just as furious. Footsteps echoed through the caves, a siren sang their song and she held her breath in the shortest calm before the storm she’d ever known.

—

Even as they met up with Daiyu and Alistair (and Mack, who Emilio had expected to leave instead of sticking around), the slayer couldn’t shake the paranoid certainty that something was going to go wrong. It was crawling up his spine like a thousand insects beneath his skin, itching and biting and sending a perpetual shiver down his spine. The hard part was supposed to be over. All that was supposed to be left was clearing the remainder of the cells and going home.

But nothing like this ever went off without a hitch, no matter how well you planned it.

The sound of the alarm cutting through the air wasn’t even a surprise, really; Emilio barely flinched as it cut through the quiet, ever so muffled against the dull ringing that had lived in his ears since the banshee who deemed him a celebrity had decided to scream in his face to show her admiration. The alarm wasn’t the only thing to make note of; lights were flashing, and people were moving outside of their little group of six.

Emilio blew a frustrated huff of air through his nose, pulled a stake from his pocket and gripped it tightly. With his other hand, he yanked out a vial of holy water and thrust it towards Mack. Zane couldn’t touch the stuff, nor could he make use of the cross Emilio pulled out from under his shirt, and Daiyu and Alistair had their own defenses. After a moment, he yanked out a second vial and held it out towards Vic. “We’re going to fight our way out of here,” he said lowly, glancing around the group. “Won’t be hard.” That was a lie. He was pretty sure they were fucked. “You get separated, meet up out front, in the trees. Understand?”

There was little time for further conversation. From the hall, an angry, red-eyed vampire burst free. Behind it, a shambling zombie. More followed. Vampires, zombies, lamia, sirens. Emilio spotted what he thought might have been a fury, though they were tackled by a zombie with their head burst open before he could decide for certain. The captives were killing each other and, in a flash, were moving towards them, too. Something came up in the middle of the group, shoving Emilio to the side. Something else grabbed at him and earned a splash of holy water that found it flinching backwards, followed by a stake to the chest when that flinch confirmed it as a vampire. He tried not to lose sight of the group, but it was difficult. Amidst the chaos, he could only hope that most of them knew how to throw a damn punch.

—

Knowing that something was bound to go wrong, Alistair wasn’t at all surprised when the alarm sounded. “Dia a dhiteadh,” the spellcaster swore under their breath before he began to channel the energy of the undead around them, pulling them under their control and bending to their will. One moment, they were running straight for Alistair, screaming obscenities, the next? They were surrounding the necromancer and fighting off anyone who came close, all with a look of fear in their eyes.

As the undead surrounding Alistair fought, they had their arms raised above their head, a pale green smoke swirling around their feet as well as surrounding the undead under their control. “cha deanar amadan mi,” they snarled in their native tongue, their voice sounding doubled as they spoke. One vampire to their right fought to break free of the control, their head turning of their own free will towards them. “You’re the monster, not us!” She screamed to Alistair, who took it in stride.

“I’m a necromancer. I’ve always been a necromancer,” they told the vampire as they swiped their hand across the air, forcing the vampire back into submission. “I’m just finally learning to embrace it.” Alistair’s voice took on a darker tone, thinking of their family that they fought for so long not to be like, only to end up exactly like them in the end. They denied their heritage for so long, telling themselves they could amount to something other than what they’d always been, and how wrong they had been.

“If that alarm was sounded, then the rest of the Good Neighbors aren’t far behind,” Alistair told the group as they extended their spell forward, refusing to acknowledge the exhaustion that was starting to creep into them from the sheer magnitude of the spell they were casting. It wasn’t a well-prepared spell, it was something off the cuff that would give them several minutes at most. Sure enough, their phone started to go off, the text-to-speech alerting them that it was Winnifred calling. “She knows,” was all they said before they pulled out a wooden stake from his belt and plunged it into the vampire that had managed to fight for control.

As the group began to become more separated, Alistair shouted over the roar of the angry prisoners fighting their way out. “Get out of the building, and beware of members arriving!” More prisoners rushed towards Alistair, vengeance the only thing on their minds as they were torn apart by the undead that stood between them and the necromancer. The spell was waning.

Somehow, this just made so much more sense. The noise, the chaos - of course it had been inevitable. They’d known it, had they not? Zane was acutely aware how technically easy it was for half of this little group to die, bleed out or just hit their head too hard. They weren’t helpless but they were definitely vulnerable. All of them probably were when the threat was this grand, all snarling teeth and crazed eyes, scales and claws and pure anger. Zane had never seen a skull cracked open with just two bare hands but there wasn’t space to register it, bodies being flung into walls, vampires latching onto running prisoners like parasites and limbs getting torn off as the living amalgamation of prisoners closed in from every direction. He felt an eerie sense of calm, could almost hear the faint sound of a monitor flatlining mixed in with the screeching of the alarm.

Emilio’s voice snapped him out of it, the lie that this would be easy. For a moment, their little group held control before it shattered, familiar faces getting quickly lost in the crowd of supernatural creatures. As quickly as he could, Zane dumped what remained in his duffle of ‘food’ onto the ground, trying to get some distance between himself and the group that immediately jumped for the easy meal. Something heavy and rough slammed against his chest, knocking him backwards - a bloodied and scaly tail, the creature to whom it belonged now zeroing in on Zane with yellow eyes. He wasn’t sure if ‘vampire’ was particularly tasty to shifters but he didn’t want to find out.

His hands scrabbled for anything to grab onto as the reptilian creature growled, fingers finding purchase around something sturdy - a pipe. A worn one, luckily, as it came loose with a dedicated tug, just in time for the lamia to pounce and for Zane to brandish the makeshift weapon. The force of the attack was enough to make the jagged edges of the pipe sink through scales and skin, blood spurting out. The creature’s dying wail didn’t particularly register amidst the noise. One less threat, only a few dozen left, not to mention the people running this place that were apparently on their way here.

—

At some point, Mackenzie had met back up with Daiyu and Alistair, but who she didn’t expect to see was Zane, Vic, and…Emilio, who was shoving a bottle of Holy Water in her direction. Not that she really knew what it was or what to do with it, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t here to argue, as much as she wanted to rip the slayer’s throat out at the moment. In fact, there were a few people currently on the ever growing Arya Stark inspired hit list that she was currently keeping in her mind. But that thought was cut short when a loud blaring rang out through the keep and suddenly and simultaneously all the doors to the cells had flung open, setting the contained and still thriving imprisoned creatures free.

It was like being on the set of a Steven Spielberg movie. What was somewhat controlled had become pure and utter chaos at the call of the famous director upon the word “Action!” But this was no movie. In fact, this was more of a nightmare, and it was taking Mackenzie time to process it, while her fellow “team members” were already fighting for their lives. However, when she felt the yanking of her hair and the sudden bite of a feral zombie ripping a chunk of flesh out of her neck, she realized processing was something that could be done later, “MOTHER FUCKER!”

In that moment, survival instincts began to kick in. All the fighting around her seemed to disappear as she turned and set her sights on the zombie who had attacked her, only to find it had been the girl she had thought she had put down. And as much as she didn’t want to hurt her, she wanted to make it out of the keep more, “Forgive me, Brody.” So without any hesitation, Mackenzie let her own feral side take over, as she lept on top of her enemy, sending them both to the ground. And with a growl, she pulled the gnashing zombie up by the head, before repeatedly slamming it into the ground, much like she had done in the past, even though she knew the food wouldn’t be viable this time around, but at least she’d still be unalive.

—

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Nothing was easy, nothing was simple, not ever, not in Vic’s whole entire fucking wasted 3 centuries could anything just be easy. She wanted it to end, to fold into a ball and give up, because why couldn’t anything just be easy? But no one else in the group was wallowing, not even the celebrity prisoner. No one else was giving up just because things became inconvenient. As Emilio shoved weapons to deal with the undead into people’s hands, she realized that these people still didn’t exactly know she was a vampire herself, and that might be a problem, especially if-

“Hey!”she shouted, jumping backwards as he tossed the vial to her. Holy water, surely, but her reflexes had thankfully been quick enough that she was able to watch it fall to the ground in front of her. “Sorry, I’m… an atheist.” Thankfully, the chaos was too great for anyone to really notice her odd behavior.

Angry, vicious, former prisoners were coming at them from left and right, and it was all Vic could do to keep them at bay. Punching someone coming from her right, kicking someone that came from her left, even using the dagger that had been tucked away in her jacket to jab someone that tried to come at her from behind. Weren’t these assholes supposed to be grateful? They were not the ones who had imprisoned them. And sure, maybe abandonment was just as bad, but these people needed to get a grip and wait for the real enemies, who were certainly on their way. “Save it for your prison guards”, she grunted as she kicked another away.

She tried scanning the area, just to see how outnumbered they were and maybe to even spot a secret way out. Instead, in the chaos, a familiar figure was walking toward her specifically, seemingly unharmed amongst the chaos. It was the vampire she had spared earlier, the one who wasn’t supposed to be saved. She would have looked like a sexy Moses parting the red sea of death and destruction if she hadn’t been so terrifying. That food Vic gave her must have been a godsend.

She came closer to Vic, and spoke when she was in earshot. “Oh look, it’s our savior”, she said, but the tone sounded more mocking than grateful. Vic didn’t quite understand, since she had really only saved her… this chaos was not her fault. “Thanks to you, doll, I was able to press that nasty little red button, the one that was keeping us locked in.” Vic, for her part, looked around at the ‘us’ in question, at the volume of harm they’d already tried to commit on just 6 people that were trying to save their fellow prisoners… nevermind what would happen once they found their way out toward the town. She felt a rock in the pit of her stomach, and worry growing with every passing second. But Vic didn’t have a chance to form an answer, because before she could, the other vampire reared back and punched her square in the face, catching her off guard and sending her backwards to the floor.

—

Daiyu had been bred for this, hadn’t she? In a way all hunters were, matches made between a pair of them only to procreate, to put more hunters on this earth and raise them for the flurry of violence. She always functioned best in the chaos of a battlefield. She was perhaps most herself when she could just give into the urge for destruction. And so with a weapon in each hand, she met her fate time and time again. She brawled, glad that there was no need for stealth or strategy — just taking out as many as she could while staying alive.

First order of business was silencing that siren, whose melody was like a red throughline in the fight. Daiyu set her sights on the shifter and fought with all her might. The creature was outmatched, underfed as she was, and so the struggle on the ground didn’t last long. Soon enough a bullet was lodged through her mouth into the rest of her skull, the song silenced forever as blood pooled on the floor. Her boots were sticky with it.

She wasn’t fully aware of all that was happening, instinct and impulse taking over. These were no longer people with names or crimes attached to them — they were targets, same as the stuffed animals she’d once shot with her brother and sister for practice. Those times were long gone, though, as was the once-had desire to do good. Right now there was only one desire, and that was primal survival and victory. Why should there be anything else, when coated in blood and gore? If she were to die now, what would it all be for?

It was while she was reloading her gun (knife held tightly between her teeth) that someone set their sights on her. And maybe she deserved to be attacked from behind by these people, these creatures she had imprisoned or watched behind bars. So Daiyu crashed against the ground, gun clattering away and knife nicking a corner of her mouth as the vampire on top of her turned her around and bared its fangs. This was personal, it seemed.

—-

He wasn’t here, not really. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the smell of blood. Maybe Emilio’s training was actually kicking in. Most likely, Zane was disassociating with a mixture of all three of those because last time had just been vampires vanishing into dust while this was gory and bloody and bodies were starting to cover the ground. He kept expecting one of them to be from their ragtag rescue group but so far, only monsters - his skin crawled at the denotation, the hypocrisy of it - but that seemed very close to changing. Daiyu was staring down a fanged gullet and if any of the others had noticed, they weren’t close enough to do anything about it.

The good thing about not properly being there; Zane didn’t have to fully register how he was again charging at someone like himself, and not even the scenario of doing it to save a hunter was a first. No, all Zane had to think about now was pulling out the stake Emilio had wordlessly handed him earlier this evening, get the vampire off Daiyu, clumsily slot the sharpened wood into place until nothing remained but dust. A red eyed creature exterminating a red eyed monster, then offering a hand to the bloody executioner on the ground. “Come on-”

It still managed to be loud over all of the noise, a tiny explosion lodging a bullet in Zane’s shoulder, Daiyu’s gun being put to good use. It hurt, a lot, enough to make the blood covered Daiyu look tantalizingly palatable for a moment of white noise pain. He stormed at whatever was holding the gun instead - better to let the hunter pick herself up the floor than bring her any closer to his fangs. Another searing round lodged itself into his torso before teeth found flesh, gulped down the off-tasting blood and then tore through veins and arteries. Whatever it was, it bled out quickly.

As chaos erupted around them, Alistair kept the undead in their thrall, focused and breathing heavily as they kept the spell concentration up. They were doing this for Tommy. They were keeping themselves alive for Tommy. Nothing else mattered by Tommy, the guiding light through this whole hellish experience that they were going through. As prisoners fought their way toward the necromancer, the zombies and vampires under their control tore at their aggressors with a look of horror in their eyes. This isn’t what they wanted, but this is what they had to do by order of the one who controlled their movements.

“Get by me if you have to,” Alistair told the others, bringing the undead into a tighter circle to allow less and less to get through. “We need to get out of here, we cannae hold this forever!” They added, knowing that this was a do-or-die situation that they were in the midst of. As moments of “I could see Mikael again” flew through their mind, they had to continuously remind themselves why they were fighting. Tommy. No one else. They’d stay alive for their son. For Melody.

The chaos around him might have been overwhelming had chaos not been the only constant thing in the slayer’s life. He was built for situations like this one, was made to take on impossible odds time and time again. One day, he knew, there would be a fight he couldn’t win. It might even be this one. But until the moment the life was snuffed out of him, he’d continue pushing forward. It wasn’t a will to survive that drove him. He’d left that behind in Mexico to be buried with his daughter’s corpse. No, if anything, Emilio fought out of habit. He fought because he didn’t want to make it easy on whatever killed him, because the only person or thing meant to destroy him was him.

He was aware, on some level, of the fight around him. He knew Vic turned down the holy water, and though her mouth had moved around some excuse for it, the words were lost to the sirens and the screaming. He couldn’t differentiate between one sound and the next, caught only flashes of what was happening around the room. Mack tackled some other undead thing to the ground, and Emilio kept half an eye on her for Kaden’s sake. Zane took out a lamia with a pipe, and he felt a swell of quiet pride that he’d never admit to. Alistair was weaponizing the undead prisoners in a way Emilio didn’t like but wouldn’t object to. Vic was talking to some vampire in words lost to the chaos. Daiyu was —

Daiyu was going down.

He started towards her, but the crowd was thick and impossible and he knew he’d never reach her in time. Something settled in the pit of his stomach, some quiet dread. It was hard, for a moment, not to think of Mexico. It was hard not to remember the last time there’d been this much chaos, with another hunter falling in the middle of it. He shoved at the nearest person to him — a stranger with red hands and a vicious snarl — but there was no give. Daiyu went down, and Emilio couldn’t reach her. Daiyu went down, and she was going to die.

And then came Zane. Swooping in with a stake Emilio had handed him, exploding another vampire into dust. Relief rushed him, though the reason for it felt strange. Did he even like Daiyu? Before this moment, he’d been sure the answer was no. Now, he thought it must be different. Funny, the things you could discover in the midst of battle.

Something slammed into his back, his momentary distraction being immediately taken advantage of. His mother, if she could see him now, would have scoffed at his incompetence. Of course, if his mother could see him now, fighting alongside a vampire and a zombie, she probably would have put a knife in his throat long before the incompetence had its moment in the sun, so it was probably moot, anyway.

A lot of things were going to be moot very soon, come to think of it, because that stranger with the red hands and the vicious snarl was on top of him now, and it took all the strength he had to keep her teeth a safe distance from his throat. “Is this really what you want to be doing now? You’re free. You could run.”

“I can run after I kill you,” she said, snapping her jaw closer. He didn’t really have an argument for that.

With both hands busy holding her back, he couldn’t reach the blade to kill her. Not without being bitten, and there were few things Emilio wanted less than to die and return as something undead. Dying and staying dead was preferable. He grunted, trying to hold her at bay. This really wasn’t his day.

—

Mackenzie’s chest was heaving up and down despite not needing to breathe, but the parasite that raged inside her. The thing that forced her to do the things she now did had needed soothing. And when she wasn’t seeing red anymore, the young woman realized what she had done. An unrecognizable figure lay just beneath her, no longer moving or out to destroy her, “This…is…this is all bullshit.”

Climbing to her feet, she looked around at the chaos surrounding her. There was bloodshed everywhere. Living and undead alike. It seemed no one was innocent in all of this, but the one thing she did know was that she was done. She wasn’t joining in on this fight anymore. She didn’t want to. She was tired. And so she ran.

Forced her way through anyone and everyone shoving them as hard as she could. She had even thrown in a few kicks for good measure putting her black belt to use as best she could. And even though her leg didn’t quite offer her as much grace as it once had pre-chop, she still managed to duck and roll as needed, and she was just about to the door, when she saw him…Emilio. Pinned down by a vampire and unable to get to his weapon to take her out.

It was like the universe was throwing a big fuck you at him, but a nearly impossible decision at her. Leave him and let him die at the hand of the undead he despised so much or be the bigger person and save his life, despite the fact that he had threatened and scared her several months back. It was weighing on her. This town had changed Mackenzie a lot. It had made her more heartless in ways, but still somehow more compassionate. Braver, but also left her oftentimes paranoid and watching her back. And even though she so badly wanted to leave him as a meal to the vampire that lingered just above his neck, she couldn’t. He was still a person, and somewhere deep down inside, even if it was the tiniest bit, she still cared.

Turning on her heels, the zombie shook her head as she let out a huff of frustration, “Fuck me.” And without waiting any longer, she found herself pushing her way back through the crowd, and over to where Emilio lay helpless; a moment Mackenzie could at least take some pleasure in for a brief moment, before she said something, “No you can’t…”

The vampire looked upward, “Huh?”

“You said, ‘I can run after I kill you’, and I said, ‘no, you can’t.”

“Oh, yeah, and why’s that, Bitch?”

“Because you can’t run if you’re dust.” And without hesitating Mackenzie spun around and aimed for the vampire's head as hard as she could, connecting her foot to the woman’s cheek sending her rolling off of Emilio, before snatching up a nearby metal chair and mercilessly beating the downed vampire with it repeatedly, “Are you just gonna lay there, Mr. Hot Shot Hunter, or are you going to do your job?” She glared over at Emilio as she continued to beat the vampire down.

—

For a moment, the sounds of the chaos were gone. Vic wasn’t actually sure she was even within the chaos anymore, because a blur of colors around her had taken its place. There was a figure in the distance, a woman, maybe, holding hands with a child. And though she could not make out either of them, she was sure the smaller figure was Rosie. Rosie, being whisked away by someone else. Someone who could protect her and raise her without getting into dangerous, life-threatening situations. She reached forward, trying desperately to grab at her daughter and cling to her, before a sharp pain at her side stopped her. When she cried out, she wasn’t sure if it was from a desperation to reach Rosie, or the sting of pain at her side once again.

But at the third strike to her side, the string of colors transformed back into the damp darkness of the keep, and the real world around her filled her senses, almost as quickly as the dread did. The situation, once again, was becoming abundantly clear. The vampire she saved was kicking at her side, yelling for her to wake up and finish this fight. Around her, swarms of undead, those that she had been bargaining for days on end for everyone to save, were thrashing at her and her companions with no mercy. Daiyu and Emilio, it seemed, were both in dire situations, and it was because of her. Vic had set free the vampire who pressed the button that released the chaos. Vic was about to be responsible for them being released toward the innocent townspeople.

She shot up, the realization of all of this hitting her at once. The other vampire seemed satisfied with this, and a smirk danced across her features as Vic narrowly dodged another kick, this time aimed at her head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”, she asked, her hands up in defense. Her dagger had been lost somewhere in the fight- had she stabbed someone with it? “I was trying to help you! I saved your fucking life! Why are you doing this?”

“You think you’re so much better than us, Sweetheart? You think we needed saving?” She jabbed at Vic’s shoulder with impressive precision and strength, especially for someone who’d been locked up and hungry for an indefinite amount of time. “I’m not your fucking puppet.” Then, she pushed forward toward Vic, forearm against her neck, effectively pinning her against a wall. “Did you seriously think we’d grovel at your feet after we watched you pass the rest of us over? For those weaklings?” She made a gesture with her free arm toward the direction of the celebrity prisoner helping Emilio.

Vic might have made a comment about the melodrama, or even defended the celebrity prisoner against accusations of weakness when she was currently beating someone up with a chair like one of those big, beefy wrestlers you’d see on television, but the vampire’s gesture had caught Vic’s eye on something else entirely. Almost directly behind the vampire, the door to one of the cages lay open, jagged edges sticking out due to the bedlam. Quickly, an idea wormed its way into Vic’s mind.

Her eyes found the other vampire’s, who was still ranting about revenge, and Vic wanted to cry out in frustration. It was not supposed to be like this. The whole point in joining the Good Neighbors was to save vampires, to make up for her past, to finally work toward being good, but now…

No matter how many times Vic found life unfair, she was still surprised by it. But as her eyes left the vampire’s and scoured the fighting around them, there was a sudden clarity that washed through her. Zane, helping Daiyu. The celebrity prisoner, stepping in to save Emilio. Alistair, doing their best to help all of them. These people, with varying dynamics among them, were coming together in each other’s times of need because it was the right thing to do. Not because they were or weren’t a certain species, but because they were all trying to do what they thought was right. Maybe morality would never be as simple as Vic wanted it to be, but perhaps it didn’t have to be as complicated as she once thought.

For only a moment more, she held her breath, right before looking back into the other vampire’s eyes. “I’m sorry”, was all she muttered before she mustered her strength, wriggled her arms free, and shoved her backwards, sending her plowing into the jagged edges of a door that once held her prisoner.

—

She took Zane’s hand and his rescue without complaint, even if in a far introspective distance, her ego was bruised at needing help. Daiyu watched the other rush away from her, to the thief of her gun and watched as her rescuer opened his jaws wide and sank his teeth into the former prisoner. There was not a lot of time to register the fact that Emilio – a slayer – had brought a vampire to this fight, but the thought still hit her in the face as she spat out her knife and picked it up again.

The fight found her again, or maybe she found it again – how those things worked, she never knew – but she was back in the fray without considering how death had and would come close. There was no room for thought and besides, Daiyu was a woman of few thoughts in general. So she sunk her knife into a shifting wolf, cutting through vital arteries and leaving it to bleed out, half-monstrous and half-man.

Her mind was only partially dedicated to her partners in crime. She had not been made for team fights, after all, and her father’s lessons had taught her that a knife in the back should always be expected. After all, Emilio had brought a vampire — and even if that vampire had saved her life and even if a zombie she’d kidnapped were fighting alongside, there was still room for them to turn on her. She was aware of all of them, both because she did not want them to die and because she knew they might as well take her out, here. Paranoia and concern made for a confusing mix of stark awareness.

But it all faded when a voice rang through the building. As the six of them had inched closer to the exit, they’d unconsciously all moved towards another ambush. Winnifred’s voice was demanding, the way a teacher’s was to children. “No! Halt!” The scene was like one of a shitty action movie, if you were to ask Daiyu — a horizontal line of people with weapons accosted them. Winnifred was flanked by those of the inner circle not here today, her own fingers wrapped around a small handgun while others carried weapons of various sizes, though they were all very much fatal if used well. And these people knew how to use them well.

The world held its breath. “We found dear Blanche here trying to escape,” said Aleksander, whose magic was restraining a vampire mid-air, limbs stretched out and her face a bloody, furious mess.

“What were you thinking?” This, from Winnifred, whose face was almost as red as the vampire’s but not from blood — only from anger. The weapon looked wrong in her hand, but it was impossible to say if the tremor in her arm was from anxiety or anger. As she continued to speak, it was clear it was the latter. Her eyes rested on Alistair. “We made this place to keep them safe, to keep us safe — they are —” As the group moved further into the building and more of the carnage became clear to her, more emotion seemed to grasp her. A dead siren at her feet looked up at her with blank eyes and for a moment it seemed like Winnifred forgot how to breathe, air stuck in her throat and water gathering in her eyes. “We do not kill them — not even when they kill those like us, and now, now look at what you’ve done, what you have all done that cannot be undone!”

She was raising her gun, aiming it at the actress she’d enjoyed in so many films she’d watched with family, the zombie who had killed members of her beloved community. Who was once more covered in blood. Winnifred thought murder the largest crime of all and had not yet debased herself to that level, but perhaps would be the day she’d have to start. She glanced at the people flanking her, those she thought she could still trust. She’d let them be lethal, today. “It should have never come to this, but —”

She would never finish the sentence.

—

Of all people to swoop in and keep those teeth from finding his throat, it was Mack Ross who did it. In many ways, and perhaps a little foolishly, Emilio wished it had been someone else. It wasn’t that he disliked the idea of being saved by someone undead — he’d brought Zane as his backup, after all, had taken Metzli when he’d needed another set of eyes at the barn — it was that it was this specific undead person. He found Mack reckless, found her irresponsible, and there were few worse things for someone undead to be. (Besides, perhaps, self-righteous. There were worse people who could have rescued him here. He was lucky it wasn’t Monty.)

She wasn’t the sort of person he wanted to owe his life to, though it was based more in petty reasons than anything substantial. For a moment, he almost wished those teeth had found his throat after all, but he pushed the thought away. There was still a fight to be won here. Emilio didn’t want to check out before he knew that the people he’d come in with made it out.

Offering her a stiff nod, he fumbled to his feet. The action wasn’t graceful, the way it might have been when his leg was a functional thing and not a mass of discomfort. He pushed the pain aside as easily as he ever did, picking up his weapon and making quick work of the assailant Mack had pulled off him. There was little time for small talk when the act was done, and Emilio was glad for it. He was better in a fight than he was in a conversation.

He turned his attention easily back to the altercation at hand. He fell into an easy rhythm of blades to throats and stakes to chests. For a moment, a heartbeat, he thought they might all make it out alive.

And then an unfamiliar voice cut through the chaos, and everything stopped.

This, he thought, must have been Winnifred. She didn’t look much like he’d expected, though he hadn’t known what to expect at all. She seemed clean-cut, seemed like the sort of woman who would bring cookies to a new neighbor. Which, consequently, meant she seemed like the sort of woman Emilio would hate to have as a neighbor. If he made it out of here alive, he thought, perhaps he’d use Winnifred to justify this prejudice.

With his eyes locked onto the weapons Winnifred’s people clutched, he thought that was a fairly big if to hang expectations upon.

She was speaking, though Emilio had a hard time making the words fit neatly in his ears. He was too wired up for conversation, covered in dust and blood and still yearning to add to it. Winnifred was speaking, Winnifred was pointing her gun. It found Mack and, unconsciously, the slayer took a step towards the zombie, some half-formed intention of placing himself between her and the danger. He wasn’t sure if it was repayment for her saving his life moments before or something else, but it didn’t matter. One of Winnifred’s men swung his weapon towards Emilio in warning, and the slayer froze.

Of course, the ragtag group of makeshift rescuers weren’t the only ones frozen at the new additions to the chaos. Winnifred had always had a commanding presence; none of the things she’d built within the Keep would have worked if she hadn’t. When she spoke, the people around her tended to listen. There was something about those long, impassioned rants, something about the righteous anger. She had a way of gripping her audience by the throat, holding them in place as a barrage of words assaulted their senses endlessly.

Some had been listening longer than others. Kirk had been her unwilling audience for half a decade now. He’d sat caged while she rambled on and on, speaking of the dangers he posed while dragging more and more people like him to live lives behind bars, starving and losing pieces of themselves day in and day out. It was enough to turn any beast rabid, wasn’t it? It was enough to make wolves of chihuahuas.

And Kirk was anything but a pup.

Winnifred and her people were so focused on the group that had infiltrated the Keep. Guns trained on people with heaving chests and wide eyes, numbers smaller than those of the ex-prisoners around them. Was it her ego, or the outrage of the betrayal? Kirk recognized two of them, after all, knew enough to know that this was at least in part an inside job.

But the reason for Winnifred’s arrogant inattentiveness didn’t matter nearly as much as the inattentiveness itself. For six years, Kirk had listened to every word out of Winnifred’s mouth as a literal captive audience.

He would hear no more.

The shift came easily to him, rippling through him all at once with his willingness to turn as its vessel. Teeth lengthened, nails sharpened into claws. He was already sailing through the air as the final details of the shift took hold, skin still settling over new bones as he landed on his captor. Teeth found her throat before another word could leave it, digging in and ripping.

The spray of blood, arching up to the high ceilings and painting the walls around it, was the most beautiful thing Kirk had seen in half a decade.

—

It all happened rather quickly, didn’t it? One moment Winnifred was doing what she did best, talking endlessly, and the next she was gurgling and then the sound of a body falling to the ground filled the air. It was a strange mix of emotions that filled the necromancer. For one, Winnifred had been the person that had stuck by Alistair the longest when they first arrived to town. But also, she was quite an annoying woman, wasn’t she? It left Alistair with a mix of emotions that they couldn’t quite put a name to. They weren’t very sure they wanted to, either.

As the chaos unfolded around them, Alistair held onto the spell they cast to control the undead that kept them protected. But Aleksander, try as he may, had always been jealous of Alistair. Of their abilities. While Aleksander worked so hard to get to where he was, Alistair was always a step above him. The practical right hand to Winnifred when Aleksander had always bent over backwards to be noticed by the woman he considered a dear friend.

And now? Now Winnifred was dead on the ground by Kirk, the longest standing member of the keep, dead because of the actions of a necromancer who got too big for their britches. “You’ve always been the thorn in my side,” Aleksander snarled at Alistair, stepping toward the redhead with murder clear in his eyes. “You’ve always been the one standing in my way no matter how hard I work. And now you’re the reason Winnie is dead.” Anger and venom spat from the younger necromancer’s mouth, the spell that held the vampire he had under his control waning enough for the woman to run as fast as she could away from the scene.

Emotions and necromancy didn’t mix well. Something always went wrong, didn’t it? Ah, well. Aleksander could easily remedy the cocktail of emotions that stormed inside of him. He raised the gun and aimed it right for Alistair’s chest. He wanted it to draw out. He didn’t want Alistair to know mercy. Mercy that he had never been shown by the scotsman. “Burn in hell, McKenzie,” Aleksander spoke before pulling the trigger of the gun.

The shot rang through the keep, and Alistair felt pain blooming in their chest. No. Dammit, they’d made it this far only to be shot by the man who had been jealous of Alistair’s power since the day they met. Alistair’s spell dropped, and the undead swarmed Aleksander like bees defending their hive. But Alistair didn’t care what happened to that man. Because they’d been shot.

Alistair sunk to their knees as they felt them give out from underneath them. This was it? This is what it felt like to die. Falling fully to the ground, Alistair stared up at the ceiling with their unseeing gaze. This was it. They’d been shot and they had to hope and pray to anyone who would listen that their resurrection spell would work.

The air was already heavy with panic and blood when a voice demanded attention and actually received, making discomfort seep into the thick atmosphere as well. A woman, the woman responsible for all of this, in some ways indirectly but responsible all the same. For the creatures, the people littering the floor, for the almost death of two hunters, for the blood in Zane’s mouth that tasted wrong and violent. Winnifred was speaking and no one interjected, perhaps for fear of the weapons her lackeys wielded or they were just using this moment of quiet to gather their thoughts. Zane wasn’t even sure he had thoughts to gather other than getting out, getting their whole team out, an unrealistic thought at this point.

But then chaos erupted again as it was wont to do, more blood permeated the air, bodies were pushing and shoving once again as Winnifred was dead. That didn’t stop a good chunk of the prisoners from rushing in the direction of her corpse, rushing at those who had wronged them. Wanting a piece of the woman responsible for their imprisonment, even if it was just a piece of her corpse. Zane smelled smoke at the same time a gunshot rang out, instinct whipping his focus to Emilio who was thankfully only responsible for the fire starting to crackle and not sporting a bullet wound. Someone was but there was no telling who - the fire incited a new level of panic as those acting on thought instead of instinct (Zane found himself teetering on the edge of the latter) realized that the time for escaping here alive was running out.

And they didn’t even know about the explosives.

Zane knew that wasn’t his purpose for being brought here, that Emilio would probably give him shit about it later on but he still found himself forging a path to the slayer, needing to make sure he made it out, too. If anyone was likely to try to sacrifice themselves by staying behind, making sure less of the dangerous prisoners escaped, it was Emilio.

—

It was like all time stood still when the vaguely familiar voice of a woman Mack had seen every now and then had spoken up loudly. It was as if she commanded the room like something holy descending from the sky, but to Mackenzie, she was the soccer mom from Hell. One of the Real Housewives of Wicked’s Rest trying to have her 15 minutes of fame. And so many other horrific analogies all rolled into one. But when her holier-than-thou speech had started to come to a close, the twenty-six year old could only see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her, and if her dead heart could have started and then stopped beating in that moment it would have.

But she couldn’t be killed by a bullet right? Winnifred could try, but if Mackenzie couldn’t kill her fellow zombie with a stab through the brain, the woman’s gun wouldn’t do shit. It’d hurt like hell probably, but she had been through worse. At least that’s what she continued to tell herself over and over as she thought about Brody, who had been with her since the day she had killed him, her family, Bixby, Taylor, Winter, and all the people that mattered most in her life. That was, until she watched as the woman suddenly was ripped to shreds by a werewolf, only for all hell to break loose once more.

Deciding Emilio could defend himself, Mackenzie knew it was time to flee, but if things couldn’t get any worse, the faint smell of something burning seeped into her dulled nostrils and before long, it was as if people were stampeding trying to make their way to safety. And without any choice, the zombie was forced to go along with the crowd, until she felt her feet go out from under her as she tripped on something.

With her head and face covered by her arms, she tried her best to avoid getting trampled as she lay on top of something, and when it seemed most of the horde had found an escape from the room she was in, she slowly opened her eyes and rolled off of the thing she had been laying on, until she realized it was Alistair. Alistair who wasn’t moving and was covered in blood, “Alistair?” It was like the breath was catching in her throat and her mind suddenly went back to the night she had last been with Brody. And despite knowing that the man she loved had become a ghost, Mackenzie couldn’t help but let her mind go back in time, until she noticed someone else, one of Winnifred’s men, leave the room, snapping her out of the near panic attack that felt like it was coming on.

“Alistair, you gotta get up, okay? This place is on fire. It’s burning, and we have to go!” Mackenzie shifted to her knees and nudged them, first softly, and then with more effort, “Alistair, please…please wake up…please…” With no response, she wanted to cry out for help, but realized there had been no one who could help her, and without waiting any longer, she climbed to her feet, “I-I’m not leaving you here.” Latching onto him in a firefighter’s drag position, she slowly, and with all her strength, began pulling him out as the fire began to inch closer and closer to the room they were both in. The effort it took to move them was almost more than she had, but she was determined, and when she finally managed to reach an exit, she pushed the door open and continued to move him, until she realized they were both safe collapsing to the ground, but also grateful for the seclusion of the door she had come out of.

And when she had regathered her strength, she climbed to her feet once more, “I can’t - I can’t have another PR nightmare on my hands. I’m sorry. But…you’ve got a chance out here, okay? I’ll try and send someone your way to help you…” At this point, she wasn’t sure if Alistair had been alive or had died, and despite what he had been a part of, Mackenzie had chosen to see him as the person he had been before, she knew he was a key player in all that and transpired.

—

Luck didn’t exist. Vic had been sure of it from nearly the moment she was conscious, for luck could not have evaded a single person so frequently. What was it then, that caused the jagged edges of the door to strike through just the right part of the vampire’s chest as Vic pushed her down? Was it spite? Was it centuries of practiced aim? She had spent years convincing herself she wasn’t a violent person, so what was all the training for? Why had she made herself adept at fighting if she hadn’t planned on using those skills? Had she been lying to herself this whole time?

Vic wasn’t sure, not even as the vampire turned to dust in her hands, disappearing from consciousness before she had a moment to even comprehend what had happened. And for a moment, Vic actually tried to push her back together. This vampire who was once a person, who once had a family and people who loved her, who was probably turned against her will, as Vic herself was. “No, no, no, no…” She sank to her knees, gathering the earth beneath her into frantic piles as if it might reverse all the mistakes she’d made that very night. If she had left well enough alone, the other vampire would still be alive. If she had listened to her companions, the carnage around her wouldn’t exist.

Faintly, from behind her, she heard a commotion that she couldn’t recognize. Gunshots, fire, and death couldn’t beat the ringing that her ears were producing, no matter how prominent they were. What had she done? In her haste to do the right thing, to save a soul that she assumed was good, she’d destroyed nearly everything. She looked up, around at her companions (she could only see three of them now) and the rest of what was left of the keep. If they stayed here any longer, they all might be lost too.

“We need to go”, she yelled, watching as the fire grew and the prisoners fought each other to tear their captor apart. “We need to go now”. As they ushered each other out to safety, there wasn’t much to say, or think about, other than the chaos that they were leaving behind. There were plenty of questions running through her mind, ones that wouldn’t ever leave, not even when Vic was in the deepest, calmest of states of relaxation.

Did the others know that she was the cause of the carnage? Would they forgive her, if they had? Would the carnage have happened anyway, if she had set another prisoner free instead? But the question that rang the loudest, that nearly never left her mind was this- How could she ever call herself a good person if her first real attempt at forgiveness ended in destruction?

#Storming the Keep Part II #threads #bountyhaunter #mortemoppetere #natusvincere #realmackross #ft: zane #ft: good neighbors #plot; good neighbors #gun use tw #medical blood tw #head trauma tw #suicide tw

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falkendreamsxxx · 8 months ago

Text

“It’s quite obvious who is desperate for release,” I taunt him, nodding toward his erection. “And it’s not me.”

This was it, the last ounce of resistance I had to my body's insurmountable, screaming demands.

He left me no time or breath to enjoy how I got under his skin. Instead, he gripped my wrist harder with one hand and darted the other into the opening of my robe.

His fingers delved through my folds, spreading me open as he brought them back up and across my clit, covering him with my arousal.

“Your cunt says otherwise.”

I froze, eyes rolling back as his skin met the place where I was my most vulnerable, and then gasped as he quickly removed his glistening digits and shoved them into my mouth.

“Fuck me or don’t, Granger, your choice,” he growled, smothering my tongue with the taste of my sex and pressing his weight and cock against me. “I won’t be gentle. I won’t hold back. And I won’t stop until I’ve fucked every ounce of this abominable compulsion I have towards you out of my system.”

A mix of moan and growl escapes me as he removes his fingers from my mouth, dragging them and their wetness down my chin, around my neck, and into my hair; then, with a low hum of pleasure, he pulls what was left of my bun away.

“Make your move, Granger,” he continued as the final symbol of my control cascaded down my back and shoulders. “I won’t wait forever.”

The Best Kept Secrets Are Curses

Ao3 and FFN

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chaotic-orphan · 2 years ago

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Could you do a scenario where Supervillain is branded?

Supervillain’s arms were stretched out either side, keeping them on their knees without so much as a centimetre of give in the chains. Not that they could move even if they wanted to. They were drained. Drained of fight. Of energy. Of their strength. It was hard enough to keep their thoughts straight nevermind their vision.

Then there was a hand on their chin, tilting their head up and Supervillain groaned with the movement. Eyes blearily focusing on the pale complexion of the devil themselves.

A minor league Hero that was pure evil and anything but Heroic. They didn’t have rules or a code of ethics and morals that superhero did. No, they verged on Villainy if they didn’t despise every villain on earth.

Supervillain was honestly tired of their monologues at this point but at least they sunk in. Not that Supervillain would ever tell them that.

“Good news, Supervillain,” said the Not Hero with a smile. “I’m bored of you so I’m finally letting you go. Giving you your freedom. I would’ve thought it was going to be more of an epic fight and you escaped me because you were actually strong, but you’re nothing. Nothing. I expected more from you. Nod your head if you can hear me.”

Hero moved Supervillain’s head up and down and then released their chin as they said: “good, but before you go I have a parting gift. Something I want you to remember me by.”

They left the room and Supervillain had to strain to keep their heavy head upright. They blinked at the door, but Not Hero didn’t return. Supervillain let their head hang again, breathing a small sigh of relief that they didn’t get to experience Hero’s gift.

Then Supervillain’s head snapped up again, mouth open in a soundless scream as something white hot pressed relentlessly against their taut shoulder blades and sizzled at their skin. Still Supervillain lurched forward in their chains trying to get away, their arms shuddering as the pain followed them. Their throat raw… had they been screaming that whole time?

“Beautiful,” said Hero, taking the pain away but it didn’t matter. The burning pain lingered and Supervillain was heaving in dry breath through gritted teeth trying to fucking deal with the sensation.

Hero appeared in front of Supervillain again, a sick smile on their face. Supervillain glared up at them through their tearful eyes, their body shaking, chains jangling with the minuscule movements keeping them there. Struggling and in pain.

“I think that was the best reaction I’ve got from you yet,” they said, voice almost reverent. They placed a hand on Supervillain’s chest this time, cruel eyes never leaving Supervillains. “Let’s go again, shall we?”

Before Supervillain could even register the threat, Hero’s hand was glowing white. The scream came from the bottom of their gut, cutting up their oesophagus and tearing vocal cords before being unleashed into Hero’s emotionless dungeon and roaring in waves as the white hot pain seized Supervillain’s heart and wrapped around their ribs, as if it was going to sear bone.

They threw themselves back in their chains, but again Hero followed. Supervillain’s mind was static, not processing what was going on, muddled, murky wet and yet all too aware of that hand on their chest and the smile on Hero’s stupid weasel face and something Supervillain snapped.

The pain melted away and Supervillain stopped screaming. Hero looked at them with hard set eyes and Supervillain grinned, showing all their teeth.

“Do you want to know why my name is Supervillain, Hero? Did your colleagues not teach you better than to go after the big dogs?”

Hero just scoffed and went to press their white hot hand against Supervillain’s neck. Except Supervillain caught it in their own and now the delicious fear was painted all over Hero’s stupid weasel face.

“How are you—“

A snap echoed throughout the stone walls and Hero screamed. Their ulnar bone sticking out from their shattered wrist. The blood was starting to get all over Supervillain’s hand so they shoved Hero away while they got to their feet.

It felt so good. God, they haven’t been able to stretch in what? Days? Weeks? Their knees were creaking, killing them bones rubbing off each other exhausted from having to hold their weight in that same position.

Then there was the matter of the screaming, bleeding hero in front of them with their bones sticking out of flesh and cradled against a blood soaked shirted chest.

“Stay— stay away from me!” The kid shrieked and Supervillain chuckled. They looked so tiny now that they were to their full height, did the weasel have spots on their face? What were they?

“I’ve never seen a hero go through puberty. Usually we wait until we’re a little older. A little wiser,” Supervillain said, as they stepped forward, right onto the kid’s retreating knee. “We definitely make sure we have manners and treat our prisoners right, or something nasty like this happens, Hero, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please! I’m sorry. Don’t kill me please! Please!”

“Oh I won’t kill you,” Supervillain said, voice softening. They crouched down on their hunkers to look Hero in the eye. “Watch,” was all Supervillain said as they pressed a hand over the split wrist and the bone retracted back to how it was before, inside their flesh and the wound as if it was never there.

Hero looked up at them with wide eyes, testing their wrist by flexing it to and fro. “Ho— how? How did you?”

“I don’t inflict pain I cannot heal,” said Supervillain, and Hero looked like they were going to cry.

“T-t-tha- thank you, thank you—“ Supervillain silence them by lifting a single finger in the air and Hero’s attention was back on them.

“It’s just— well, I’m a Villain, Hero. And I can heal any wound. Most of the time I just choose not to. Watch,” and Supervillain held their hand over the kids wrist again and their hand was on backwards, bones lining up perfectly and moving in the way no fingers ever should.

“Wha—“

“Oh, you’ll have to forgive me. A little body horror is always my favourite revenge. I once turned someone’s eyelids inside out. They had to wear sunglasses so they didn’t scare their own children. Hilarious stuff really, but that was because they beat me in chess, Hero. You… you tortured me for hours of endless torment. You didn’t feed me or give me water, or let me out of my chains to take a piss. So think of all the fun I’m going to have with your body while you’re conscious.”

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 9 months ago

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Michael After Midnight: "Sir Psycho Sexy" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

youtube

For April Fool’s 2024, I decided to do a bit inspired by Todd in the Shadows called Ford Analyzes Tunes And Song Stuff, or FATASS for short (a little nod to how Todd’s moniker can be shortened to TITS). Basically people would send me a song, and I would give some wacky analysis or review of the song that was probably the opposite of my actual, genuine opinion. For example, for Nickleback’s “Photoraph,” I claimed the entire song was actually a bittersweet gay romance. It was a fun exercise in crafting absurdity from even the most mundane or stupid lyrics. But it did leave me wanting to review a song for real… and what better than one of my favorite songs of all time?

The Red Hot Chili Peppers are a band that need no introduction, but I’ll do it in case some of you out there don’t listen to good music and/or hate California: RHCP is a funk/alternative rock band formed in 1982, though they didn’t really cement their status as one of the best bands around until their release of the alt rock classic Blood Sugar Sex Magik in 1991, an album that produced the personal and powerful “Under the Bridge,” the hard rocking “Suck My Kiss,” and the all-time banger “Give It Away.” It’s a fantastic album, one of the most influential of its time, and many regard it as RHCP’s best work—including the band’s bassist, Flea. I’m certainly inclined to agree; it’s a nice middle ground between their heavily funk-influenced early work and their later more radio-friendly rock tunes. Don’t get the wrong idea here—they were, and still are, a very good band—but I think in my opinion the 90s were the decade where they really stood out from the crowd as trailblazers in the rock scene.

With that out of the way, it’s time to single out my absolute favorite song on the album to talk about: An eight minute long track titled “Sir Psycho Sexy.” With a title like that and an impressive length to match, you know you’re in for something bonkers, and I’d say the song delivers in spades; it’s a funky rap rock epic that is hornier than almost any song before or since. The rizz the titular Sir Psycho Sexy of the song displays is beyond that of any mortal man, and it is simply glorious. This song is also a song that inspired one of my Ocs—Flynn Dangerfield from the Rhine City series my wife and I are working on. If you’re unfamiliar with the character (and you shouldn’t be, the rough drafts for the story are pinned at the top of my blog), this is like if Alex Hirsch said Dipper and Mable were actually inspired by Flowers in the Attic.

If you don’t believe me, then read on as I riff on one of my favorite songs and showcase the brilliant lyrical insanity of a 90s rock band that was likely high as a kite while writing this. Also, this is your warning: These lyrics are insanely NSFW. This isn’t nearly as bad as the last song I riffed on, “Pregnant Pussy,” but it’s up there. You’ve been warned.

So this song is sort of a story, and every story has a main character. And what a character we have here; Sir Psycho Sexy is his name, and getting pussy is his game. How does one introduce such a man?

A long, long, long, long time ago Before the wind, before the snow Lived a man, lived a man I know Lived a freak of nature named Sir Psycho

Not a bad way to start things. Lead singer Anthony Kiedis really sets up Sir Psycho as some ancient, powerful force of nature, a being who has existed as long as there were babes to fuck and who is so eternal he was there before wind or snow. Mind you, this is before we get into all of his insane sexual feats and astounding prowess with the ladies, so we have the coolest guy in the universe right here. Let’s see what else there is to say about him:

Sir Psycho Sexy that is me Sometimes I find I need to scream

Oh. Ok then. So Anthony Kiedis is Sir Psycho Sexy. This is either self-insert Mary Sue fanfiction, or it’s an autobiographical tale describing things that actually happened. Let’s be super duper charitable and call it the latter. At any rate, the fact he just likes to scream sometimes is universally relatable.

Still, you may not be convinced how good the song is from this opener, as it can come off as blatant wish fulfillment fantasy. Thankfully, the second verse opens with the greatest lyrics ever written by a human hand:

Deep inside the garden of Eden Standing there with my hard on bleedin' There's a devil in my dick and some demons in my semen Good God no that would be treason

This is absolutely blasphemous, disgusting, degenerate, explicit, and one of the funniest fucking set of lyrics to ever be in a song. “There’s a devil in my dick and some demons in my semen” is not a phrase you hear every day, and it certainly won’t leave your head after you hear it. And don’t worry; things only get better from here!

Believe me Eve she gave good reason Booty looking too good not to be squeezin' Creamy beaver hotter than a fever I'm a givin' 'cause she's the receiver I won't and I don't hang up until I please her Makin' her feel like an over achiever I take it away for a minute just to tease her Then I give it back a little bit deeper

So I don’t know what could be expected, but Sir Psycho plowing the Biblical Eve is probably not the sort of thing you could imagine when first popping in to listen to this song. When you take into account his ancient nature from the first verse and the fact he’s got his boner dripping blood in Eden in the first few lines of verse two, this is really the only logical next step though. The real question here is, is Sir Psycho supposed to be Adam, or has Sir Psycho tied up Adam to watch as he busts in Eve more times than should be humanly possible? If he’s “Makin’ her feel like an over achiever,” I’ve gotta imagine he’s not stopping after round one, two, or even three. I do like the detail that Sir Psycho won’t give up until he pleases her; it’s very cool and considerate that he cares enough about his lover to ensure her satisfaction too.

I got stopped by a lady cop In my automobile She said get out and spead your legs And then she tried to cop a feel

Verse three begins with an extremely sad case of police brutality and sexual assault. Poor Sir Psycho was just driving along, minding his own business, when he’s pulled over for no crime whatsoever; the cop just wanted to fondle him. These lyrics really say a lot about our society, and the state of the police force in America when even gorgeous immortal studs aren’t safe from the pigs.

That cop she was all dressed in blue Was she pretty? Boy I'm tellin' you She stuck my butt with her big black stick I said, "What's up?" now suck my dick

Some interesting tidbits of information here: Sir Psycho enjoys being pegged, and he has a death wish. What kind of absolute madman says that to a cop that has them at his mercy? Does he really think he can turn the tab--

Like a ram getting ready to jam the lamb She whimpered just a little when she felt my hand On her crotch so very warm I could feel her getting wet through her uniform Proppin' her up on the black and white Unzipped and slipped, "Ooh, that's tight" I swatted her like no swat team can Turned a cherry pie right into jam

Are we sure this man is Anthony Kiedis and not British Prime Minister David Cameron? Cuz he sure does like fucking pigs! Sir Psycho, with his ancient pornomancy powers, takes “fuck the police” to a whole new level, completely turning around whatever situation he’d gotten himself into.

And now we get a shift in the instrumentation, and the lyrics kind of mellow out and almost feel a little romantic(at least in a 90s funk rock way):

Hello young woman that I love Pretty punk rock mama that I'm thinking of Hold me naked if you will In your arms in your legs in your pussy I'd kill To be with you, to kiss with you, I do miss you I love you Lay me down, lay me down, lay me down, lay me down Lay me down, lay me down, lay me down, lay me down Descending waves of graceful pleasure For your love there is no measure Her curves they bend with subtle splendor

This part genuinely feels so tender and, while it is extremely horny, Sir Psycho seems especially reverent of this woman, this amazing “punk rock mama.” I kind of think this segment pulls the entire song together, giving us a brief respite from the more overt sexuality and into something that genuinely sounds sweet, albeit in a decidedly horny sort of way.

Of course, we soon get back to Sir Psycho’s usual escapades in the final verse:

Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the funk will make me freak If I should die before I waked Allow me Lord to rock out naked

And after this, we get kinky before wrapping up this song and heading to an extended instrumental outro:

Bored by the ordinary time to take a trip Calling up a little girl with a bull whip Lickety split go snap, snap Girl gettin' off all in my lap The tallest tree the sweetest sap Blowin' my ass right off the map Ooh and it's nice out here I think I'll stay for a while

So full disclosure, this really, genuinely is one of my favorite songs of all time, and perhaps my favorite RHCP song. It’s so audacious, in-your-face, and unabashedly horny, and in a day and age when people seem hellbent on removing sex from art, it’s nice to go back to a simpler, sluttier time and jam out. Is the length a bit excessive? Sure, probably, but length like this is all Sir Psycho is capable of.

The song is honestly not too dissimilar from the last song I reviewed, “Pregnant Pussy” by UGK… at least in terms of audacity. Where that song was trying to be as disgusting and depraved as possible to get a reaction from the listener, essentially being the nastiest troll song you’ll ever here, this song is just very upfront with its sheer horniness. It only barely eases you in, with the opening leading right into blasphemous boasting and dick blood, and it just never stops. It slows down a bit in a couple parts, but overall it really is just an unrelenting force. The song’s length isn’t something you ever really feel, because it just goes from one dirty lyric to the next.

But I think the most important thing the song does is remind us we all have a little Sir Psycho Sexy inside us, and we all have been standing the garden of Eden with our hard on’s bleeding while there were devils in our dick and demons in our semen. Maybe the real dick devils were the friends we made along the way.

#Youtube #michael after midnight #review #song review #red hot chili peppers #RHCP #sir psycho sexy #music

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