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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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Icarus Part 3

Hello! If you haven't seen it yet, I've got a set schedule for what story posts on what days now (as seen here) and this one as well as Well Met By Moonlight, Batshit Soulmates, and Never Hold Back Your Step... will still be posting just on rotation until I can finish some of my WIPs. (I may be stretching myself a bit thin having six going at the same time.)

In this one we have the concert. Eddie stumbles on something big and doesn't know how to deal with it all. And Uncle Wayne is bestest as always.

@emly03 @redfreckledwolf @itsall-taken @rozzieroos @mira-jadeamethyst

Part 1 Part 2

****

The day of the concert dawned abhorrently cheerful and bright. Not a cloud in the sky or any accidents that would prevent Eddie from having to take Dustin to this event. He wouldn’t deign to call it a concert. He had heard the album and seen their posters, but he refused to wander over to YouTube and watch videos of their concerts, interviews, their music videos.

He didn’t want to be even more disappointed that they were all flash and no substance then he was sure he was going to be for the next two hours.

Dustin rolled his eyes when Eddie parked in the huge concert parking lot.

“You’re just salty because I like them as much as I like Corroded Coffin,” he huffed getting out the car. “You have to concede that Abaddon’s vocals are killer.”

Eddie scoffed. “Do not. I haven’t heard them live. Way too many artists use autotune too much these days.”

“You sound like that meme,” he sneered, “‘Old Man Yells at Cloud’.”

Eddie swatted at him playfully. “Am not.” Dustin raised his eyebrow skeptically and he threw his arms in the air. “I’m not. I am a very serious musician, Dusty. The last thing metal needs is some band that can’t write or even play their own instruments. This isn’t pop.”

“You are such an asshole,” he said and turned toward the entrance, leaving Eddie to jog to catch up with him.

Eddie sighed and put his arm around Dustin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am being an asshole. I turned into the person I swore I would never be. Those shit for brains critics that hated Corroded Coffin when we first got on the scene. And that was wrong of me.”

Dustin sighed, too. “I just want you to like them too. They are so good if you’d just give them a chance.”

Eddie breathed out through his nose. “Yeah. I can at least give them that.”

They got to their seats and Eddie was a little impressed at Claudia Henderson’s Ticket Master foo. They weren’t front row, but they were only a couple of rows back so you could actually see the stage without having to strain their necks and smack dab in the center of the row.

Dustin would have the best time. And now it was up to Eddie not ruin it for the kid. Because yes, he was still a kid as far as Eddie was concerned. Twenty-one was so fucking young. That was how old most of the band was when they got their record deal, after all. They weren’t prepared for what came next, that’s for sure.

They got settled into their seats and Eddie watched as the rest of the crowd shuffled in. They were all about Dustin’s age with very few exceptions in either direction.

There seemed to be a color theme going on with the girls in the audience though. They were grouped in clumps of red, black, blue, or white. Which made sense if each band member stuck to a certain color palette.

Well he was about to find out, he supposed.

The lights dimmed. The crowd quieted down. The spotlight lit up the drumkit first. And Eddie knew that Gareth would be drooling over it. It was all black with black metal fittings. The kit seemed to collect light almost like a blackhole.

Then from the ceiling, a man dressed all in black being lowered onto the stage with large black raven wings on his back. He wore a black hooded coat over what, Eddie couldn’t tell. It was all black. The shirt, the pants, the boots. Even his mask was all black with even the eyes appearing closed. His feet touched the ground and the crowd went wild.

“Azrael!” the announcer called out.

Azrael settled on the throne and picked up black drum sticks.He counted time above his head and played a wicked solo to the adoring crowd’s absolute delight.

Dustin jumped up and down, screaming.

The spotlight moved to the right side of stage and the next band member descended from the ceiling. Large bat wings adorned his back and he was dressed in red leather fetish gear. Complete with tight leather pants that looked painted on and a matching harness highlighting his bare chest, peeking out from the red leather hooded coat.

His guitar was fucking gorgeous, though. A Warlock, much like Eddie’s own. It was custom painted red with black flames licking up the neck.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but it seemed he was the only one who thought the whole thing was over the top judging from the screams from the girls in the audience.

He didn’t just land gently on the stage like the drummer did, oh no. He fucking stomped onto the stage with a howl.

His wings, like the drummer’s ascended back into the rafters as the announcer shouted, “Asmodeus!”

And then Eddie really did roll his eyes. The demon of lust. Of course he was.

But seconds later Eddie’s jaw dropped to the floor as the man wailed on his guitar driving the crowd further into the frenzy.

Once he finished his solo the crowd quieted again and he could see why. Because just then, descending on gossamer wings that shimmered like starlight, was their bassist.

Everything about him was midnight blue and shimmering like the night. His mask was the face of the moon. He had his own hooded coat, but it was like the night sky, with some kind of crystal or gem sewn in to make the coat glimmer like stars.

His bass was something that Brian would have sold his own mother for and they were as thick as thieves. Eddie didn’t know much about basses considering his sweetheart was an electric guitar, but he could tell it wasn’t expensive but was perfect for his style. A style he showed off with gusto to the audience’s obvious delight.

“Astraeus!” the announcer cried.

Eddie decided that this one was his favorite. It played up the whole mysterious thing without the over the top flash of the guitarist or the sheer void of the drummer.

The audience hushed as the three members of the band began to play what was clearly the lead singer’s entrance music.

And holy fuck was Eddie screwed. This man was descending like a fucking angel sent from God, Jesus pose and all.

He was all in white with an opaque lace mask that had his mouth and chin cut out for him to sing. That surprised Eddie somewhat. He figured that the guy would have his whole face covered like everyone else in the band and that he could lip sync.

But nope. Apparently no one in this band did anything by halves.

The lead singer was wearing a sheer mesh crop top under the hooded floor length coats the whole band was wearing. Only his was white with a silk powder blue lining.

Eddie winced in sympathy. They must get boiling under the lights with those things on.

A few feet from the stage floor there was an explosive pop! And the feathers from his wings flew out into the crowd who was now screaming as if their life depended on the sheer volume coming out them. He looked over at Dustin who was no different.

When Eddie could see the stage again, this angel’s wings were now skeletal and gothic.

He landed in front of microphone whose stand had been decorated with a scarf in each of of the band members’ signature colors.

“Abbadon!” the announcer yelled for the final time.

And Eddie was in love. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Dustin must have seen his expression because he was suddenly tugging on Eddie’s arm and screaming, “I told you!!”

“Indy!” Abbadon growled, grabbing the mic. “Thank you so much for having us! Let’s get this started.”

Then he began to sing and yeah, Eddie knew that the guy had charm, but this was a whole new level of epic. He was enthralled.

He didn’t utter a fucking word for several songs. But then it happened. Eddie couldn’t believe it. He hurried to snap a picture to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

But there it was it in living color. He turned to Dustin to see if he saw it too, but the kid was too busy screaming and jumping up and down.

Eddie’s jaw fell.

That couldn’t be right, couldn’t it? That Dustin didn’t know? Eddie looked back up on stage and a lot of the puzzle pieces started slotting in place. His heart sank a little.

He shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts. He didn’t know the reason for any of this and leaping to conclusions would only get a shit ton of people hurt. Especially the boy next to him.

Eddie let the music wash over him. Let the magic of metal soothe his soul. Soon he was jumping up and down and headbanging with the rest of the crowd. Right hand flashing the devil’s horns, left hand out to steady himself he let himself enjoy the band’s stage presence.

****

To say that Eddie’s mind was fucking blown would be an understatement. He pestered Dustin all the way home with rapid fire questions. Where did the band tour last time? What was their schedule this time? Was it a six month tour or an eighteen month tour last time?

Dustin answered each question with growing excitement, thinking that Eddie had finally grown to love this band as much as he had.

Eddie on the other hand felt a growing sense of dread. Well... maybe dread was the wrong word. It was certainly a sinking feeling. One he really had to exam closely.

At least he could honestly say that he fell in love with the music before he found out his little secret.

And fuck what a secret it was.

He dropped Dustin off at home and drove out to the ranch that he had gifted to Wayne when Corroded Coffin first made it big. It was a beautiful, sprawled out home surrounded by acres of land and Eddie loved it even more than Wayne did.

Eddie stumbled through the door and was surprised to see Wayne drinking hot chocolate and reading a sports magazine in his expensive recliner. And yet, at the same time, not really that surprised.

“You do realize I’m no longer that fucked up kid with anger issues,” Eddie huffed on his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “that were almost as bad as the troubles with the law, right?”

Wayne chuckled. “Maybe so. But you’re still my boy and I’ll keep worrying about you until the day I die.”

Eddie popped open the can of beer and sat down on the sofa. He leaned his head back on the back cushion with a heavy sigh.

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “What’s stewing around in that head of yours?”

Eddie slowly raised his head. “What would you do if you accidentally found out something about a friend that they were keeping from everyone they knew?”

Wayne set down his magazine. “That would depend on the secret. Is it hurting anyone?”

“Is what hurting anyone?” Eddie asked. “The secret?” Wayne nodded and Eddie frowned, really thinking about it.

“Maybe some feelings,” he said after a moment. “But it’s not dangerous like they committed a crime or anything. It’s not even about their sexuality.”

Wayne hummed thoughtfully. “And is it a big secret or a little one?”

Again Eddie was forced to think hard about what that meant. “I guess it depends on the person, but in my eyes it’s pretty big.”

The elder Munson nodded. “Do you feel hurt by this secret?”

“Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.” He bowed his head and let out a shuddering breath.

“Is there a reason you think he wouldn’t have told you?” Wayne pressed.

“Of course no–” Eddie stopped as his brain caught up to his mouth. “Shit.”

Wayne raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Eddie admitted shyly. “There’s a pretty good reason why he wouldn’t have told me. And now I feel like the shit friend.”

Wayne stood up and pulled Eddie into a big hug. “Maybe so, but you have the time to course correct and show this friend that you are worthy of his secret.”

Eddie nodded. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne,” he mumbled into Wayne’s neck.

“I’m just glad I could help.”

****

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @y4r3luv @cryptid-system @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #the fallen

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emberphoenixisgoingtolive · 12 days ago

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Nublar Six instrument/music headcanons

Darius:

deep brass instrument like the tube, or smth like french horn, because he likes how they sound like a dinosaur roar

(also brass parts get all the best parts in film music)

doesn’t mind that they’re extremely heavy and bulky instruments that make him look tiny by comparison (Kenji teases him)

would also rock an electric guitar

decent at singing, vocalises the trumpet/sax/guitar solo and does air guitar riffs (his dad did that a lot)

fave genre is jazz and old rock/pop (it’s what his parents played a lot as a kid and jazz especially reminds him of watching his parents dance around the kitchen making dinner and playing jazz on the speakers while he was doing homework or smth)

also loves disney because cmon the nostalgia

Brooklynn:

pre arm loss, probably tried a lot of instruments for her vlog

enjoys drunkets because it’s cathartic and makes her look cool

post arm loss had to relearn how to play the drumkit but is still pretty good (playing an instrument with a prosthetic is hard)

great singer; could’ve been a pop star but chose to be an influencer instead. i imagine her voice as a cleaner and slightly less floaty Billie Eilish that gets more raspy and hoarse as she grows up (#character development)

fave genre is mainstream pop, techno stuff and electronic dance music (ew /j) because it makes her feel like she’s in the cities she grew up in

Sammy:

loves playing songs on her acoustic guitar. she knows all the Chapelle Roan songs by heart

has a great voice that’s surprisingly lyrical and smooth

she sounds less accented when she sings than when she talks

fave genre is (of course) country or country pop, but also listens to whatever the nublar six send her and it ends up on her playlist because those songs make her think of her friends when she listens to them

also has a taste for disney stuff

Yaz:

i can’t see her playing an instrument personally

however i think she would have the most amazing voice, really belty and intense with a bit of a rasp and those aesthetic voice cracks

sings to cope with mental health issues (same girl same)

only Sammy has heard her sing like that

fave genre is indie rock

Kenji:

gives vibes of the kid who was forced to learn violin and/or piano to make his dad look good

lowkey resents classical music as a result

picks up bass guitar and is surprisingly good

we all know he’d actually be an amazing singer. he’d start the karaoke night shy but by the end he’s belting to his heart’s content

fave genre is rap and heavy metal. he first started listening to it to piss off his dad but ends up liking it on his own

Ben:

easily a woodwind guy; probably flute or oboe

he was in the school band, the nerd /silly

listens to classical music unironically; it helps him calm down

particularly likes mozart and liszt piano

at the polar opposite, he also loves the loudest and heaviest of heavy metal. listening to his playlist feels like the violentest of whiplash. when the camp fam road trip he is not allowed the aux cord

not a singer but secretly enjoys when Kenji sings (🏳️‍🌈)

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cringefail-loser · 4 months ago

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ok wow, this is embarrassing, but my band and I need to practice for a show coming up, and I'm currently stuck with using my school's drumkit, which means about only 20 minutes per day (on days when we have school!!) to practice. Obviously, the solution here is to buy my own drumkit. The issue, however, is that currently we're all broke and have no way of saving up for one. If you guys would be willing to chip in even like. A cent (or just reblogging/sharing) I would be more than grateful like I'll literally be groveling at your feet and doing your bidding.

WHAT I GET:

cool drumkit

time to hang out with my band members outside of school

the ability to kickstart a potential career

WHAT YOU GET:

my gratitude

music from a small band

a thank you letter

maybe a doodle if I can figure out how to give one thru gofundme

literally whatever you want man

I know that this isn't like some life-saving bill I need to pay or anything that important, so it's completely understandable if you would prefer to scroll by :] I also understand that most of my following may not be old enough or have the financial ability to donate right now. Regardless of whether you can help or not, thank you anyway, and have the best day ever <3

[if you need any confirmation that this is legit, pls do feel free to ask!! It both helps you confirm you're not donating to a scammer, and also helps my credibility)

(ps I might do some sort of commissions soon if this doesn't work out, lemme know if you're interested !!)

ALL MONEY DONATED GOES TOWARDS BUYING A DRUMKIT.

#gofundme #small band #post hardcore #.txt

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a-whispering-echo · 9 months ago

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Band!Killers lock pin is 34055

Band!Dusts feet are FUCKED and horribly warped and scarred from his years on the streets.

Band!Nightmare, for the longest time, believed Cross' legal name to be 'Christian' because... well, he chose the nickname 'cross' and hes a 'Chris' so, it just... No. Cross' legal name is legit just Chris. like, its not short for anything. just Chris. he hates it. he plans on changing it it like, Christopher or something, hes just never got around to it

Band!Horror decorates his wheelchair with spikes. sometimes when the band are preforming live, he attaches LED's to the metal parts, so, even though hes behind the drumkit most of the time, you can still see the neon red lights on him.

Band!Ink remembers stuff better when hes told it in french or japanese, and tends to forget things told to him in english.

Band!Blues legal name is Jay Prince - his nickname comes from people calling his 'Bluejay' for years growing up, which eventually reshortened to 'Blue'

Band!Dream copied his brothers nickname, and is the reason that HIS friend group all have nicknames too.

Ash's favourite food was spaghetti. the closest he got to it most days was uncooked, raw and old pasta out a trash can.

Band!Nightmare and Band!Dream grew up playing piano and violin respectively. they still play their instruments to this day

band!Cross has nystagmus

Band!Nightmare is deathly allergic to apples.

Band!Joku Brothers had an apple tree in their yard growing up.

Band!Dream cant look at apples without having a panic attack.

Band!Cross wakes up at 6am sharp every morning.

Band!Dust has narcolepsy.

Band!Horror has a favourite 'scar scarf' - its a navy one with little yellow stars and moons over it. Nightmare got it for his as a present years ago.

Ash was a natural redhead.

Band!Dust has 'Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust' tattooed across his back

Band!Nightmare and Band!Cross talk in spanish all the time. though sometimes, Cross latin american spanish and Nightmares canerian sometimes stump them on the odd word, which causes a lot of confusion as they dont, for some reason, ever think to clarify what theyre saying in english...

Band!Killer doesnt consider himself Muslim, but still to this day, refuses to eat bacon and such like.

Band!Nightmare has his hair chemically straightened.

Band!Horror likes it when his partners play with his hair. he keeps each little braid they give him for as long as he can.

Band!!CRoss is very sensitive to light due to his albinism, though he got lucky in that his eyesight is mostly alright. going on stage with all the lights is actual hell for him.

Band!XGaster specifically wanted an albino child, like him, because he saw albinism as 'humanities perfection'. he chose a columbian surrogate to carry for him, who had the same type of albinism as him. who knows what might have happened it Cross turned out to.. not be albino..

Band!Nightmare sometimes uses Dusts sleeptalk as lyrics.

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theharmonious13 · 6 months ago

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Tetro Six the Musical AU ✨

Yes sir, we're going back to the early 2020s musical era hehe

For the Queens I get fixated on them not being characters portrayed in a musical, instead that they actually live out the harsh reality of experiencing King Henry the III's torment

But for the band I imagine it being just characters everyone plays on stage, so I hope the use of tense doesn't get too confusing as I ramble lol

~~~

The ladies as the Six Queens:

Catherine of Aragon - Mai

Mai has been tolerant of so much bs between her personal life and the killing game, persevering without much complaint despite knowing other characters have done wrong/to others and to herself

It feels like a perfect parallel that Tamba 'the younger and fitter' character via the song lyrics hehe would be the one to steal the man off of Mai, especially because of the princess scenes in chapter 2

Anne Boleyn - Tamba

She's not the brightest of the bunch, outspoken and full of energy/spunk, as close to a perfect match out of the Tetro girlies cast imo

Jane Seymour - Tsuno

I can imagine Tsuno bringing the most heart wrenching song you've ever heard in your life (between the killing game and this AU I do be crying at how sweet of a character she is)

Anna of Cleves - Watari

Watari being left to riches with no man in her way is iconic as hell, and amuses me alot. This role to me was a no brainer because of how empowered Watari is in her own right inside and outside the killing game, plus she already has the right colour palette for Anna of Cleves haha

Katherine Howard - Isono

With her standard outfit and general toxic streamer culture... I thought Isono was the most fitting for this role. She's an extremely feminine and iconic girlboss though so it's fine

Catherine Parr - Sasaki

I know it's ironic that she's the survivor of the group lmao

We're going into fanon Sasaki here where for the most part outside of the killing game she is a pretty normal person who does get stereotypical girly crushes

I thought out of the candidates she would be the one (other than Tsuno) to want to send an impactful message out into the universe rather than fight about who had to deal with the most shit with... I just realised I should fill in this role, OH NO-

King Henry III - Yanagi

He's not old or frumpy or whatever like actual history but even if it's a screwed up misinterpretation of his backstory he was a player so having six wives just makes sense to me lol

Especially the chemistry/platonic interactions between Yanagi and everyone (except Isono but close enough lol)

~~~

Bonus Round Band Members:

Guitar "Maggie" - Nakamigawa

Bass "Bessie" - Hama

Keyboard "Joan" - Hasegawa

Drumkit "Maria" - Okazaki

I feel like the instruments fit the vibe of each character assigned, like Hasegawa being a sweet little band nerd who takes up one of the most universal and music theory based instruments. Hiroaki is just too iconic not to play guitar, an

d Hama is a badass, so obviously the lower pitched instrument of the two.

Guys I imagine Okazaki would KILL at drum solos and I can't unsee it now (in an AU where she's not a crime overlord 😭)

I can imagine Ojima, Chiba and Kamimura coming to majority of the shows to support Hiroaki/Hama/Hasegawa

Bonus points for Kamimura because you KNOW he would roll his eyes at every musical, especially this one haha, he just loves Hasegawa that much :>

#tetro danganronpa #tetro danganronpa pink #tetro pink #dr tetro #danganronpa tetro

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theboys-inzoi · 6 days ago

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☄️ Chapter 3: Waiting for a Star to fall Episode 8: Fever Previous (Get the Party started) - Next (It's my Party)

Summer Solstice - Part 2

Seems the whole community has gathered to hear Dtui's speech. Regulator Lunvik wasn't prepared for this. They'd told him it was just the annual event of their old ladies yoga class and he had hoped he'd just have to get through the dinner they'd invited him to. And now there was a whole - event. . . Well, at least he now knew with whom he'd have to deal with. There was even a Saja here now. Then of course the pesky Dokkaebi and his useless friends. And that Bonghwang that caused him so many - inconveniences. As expected, she was shining so bright, it was almost blinding him. Damn.

Dtui promised she'd keep it short. She warmly welcomed the new members Mr. Lunvik, the Saja, Saiwa and Vlad to their little community, that was with them almost double the count than before. Next point of the agenda was the arrival of Kareem's son. Dtui stated how important this was for their community. Their reputation, the honour, the prestige to welcome such an important guest in their midst. And she reminded all of them to do their very best to make his stay pleasant and comfortable - and successful. Without causing any troubles (here she looked sternly at Jack). And assist Leander in his difficult task with all their power.

They all applauded and Dtui cleared the stage for Noxee's performance. Noxee: "Jack, would you come up and help get the stage ready?" Jack: "Sure!" He'd do anything for her. Anything. How beautiful she looked today. Her bright aura even made him forget the drumkit desaster and . . . Noxee: "Jack?" ö.ö' Eventually Jack stumbled upon the stage.

. . . shoved the partitions aside . . .

. . . and revealed: "My drumkit!!!"

Jack: "But . . . how? It was gone? Gun-Il told me he sold it!" Noxee laughed: "Yes, to us. We asked him to keep it a secret so it would be a surprise. You worked so hard to make this happen. And it's also a little motivation to keep your good behaviour up while Kareem junior is here." Jack: "Anything. Oh, thank you! I'll be such a good boy!" And he'd start by being a good boy with an apology for poor Gun-Il!

They started the performance. Jack only had eyes for Noxee. Because it was magic when a Bonghwang sang.

'Never know how much I love you Never know how much I care When you put your arms around me I get a fever that's so hard to bear You give me fever

When you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight Fever! In the mornin', a-fever all through the night

Sun lights up the daytime, Moon lights up the night I light up when you call my name And you know I'm gonna treat you right You give me fever'

The Regulator wasn't able to look away either. He just hoped this day would end soon. But he knew he was screwed when she looked him in the eyes and sang:

'Romeo loved Juliet Juliet, she felt the same When he put his arms around her He said, "Julie, baby, you're my flame" Thou giveth fever

When we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth Fever! I'm a fire, fever, yeah, I burn forsooth

Captain Smith and Pocahontas Had a very mad affair When her daddy tried to kill him She said, "Daddy, oh, don't you dare" He gives me fever

With his kisses, fever when he holds me tight Fever! I'm his your missus, daddy, won't you treat him me right?'

Damn. She was going to be the death of him - and she knew it! His only chance to survive was to kick Kareem junior through whatever he was supposed to do to succeed, prevent the Dokkaebi from doing anything stupid that would keep Kareem junior from whatever he was supposed to do to succeed and leave this foul place!

Not only the Regulator stood and stared ö.ö' But not at Saiwa, who's just a bit paranoid (rightfully).

The Saja stared at Jack. But Jack didn't notice. He was on a high. He'd been on stage with both his beloved drumkit and Noxee! And he couldn't be happier. Noxee ended her performance and even though Jack's drum skills were not perfect, the 'crowd' applauded and cheered. The magic of the Bonghwang. It would have even sounded amazing if someone had kicked some trash bins around while she sang ^^'

The party went upstairs and to Jack's great joy, the buffet was finally opened. And there was pizza, his favourite! (Some things never change ;)

Jack just wanted to take the free seat next to his beloved Noxee, when Leander, who had noticed how unwell and shy Saiwa felt among all the strangers around him, told Jack to let Sai sit next to Noxee, the only one he knew somewhat better here. Means Jack had to sit next to his arch enemy, the Regulator, who didn't look that excited about his dinner neighbor either. Jack grumbled, this Saiwa guy not only stole his job but now also his rightful place next to Noxee! -.- Noxee: "Just sit, Jack." Ah, well. It was such a great evening. On the stage with Noxee and the drumkit. So what.

Saiwa also thought it was an awesome evening. And a nice community. Not the worst place to stay. But staying would not only endanger him, but also all of them if he got caught and it came out they hid him. Even unknowingly. Damn. Should he open up? At least to Noxee? Or try to leave somehow? Dtui made very clear how important Kareem junior's success was... It wasn't fair to let them in the dark after they helped him and provided shelter.

The Regulator lost his appetite, he would retreat to his chamber as soon as this dinner was over. He, the Wrath of the Kingdom of Darkness, defeated by a mere bird. Who claimed loudly how much she loved 'these balls' when Jack set the plate with soup dumplings beside her, and how much she loved it when sucked them until the broth spilled in her mouth... and she surely would have went on like this if Dtui hadn't stopped her, because 'the kids!'. He was doomed.

Vlad was halfway relieved. Yes, Jack was weird and he was only here to get subjected, but as by now, it was so much better than he had feared. He'd never spent a meal in such an enjoyable company. Most of his days, he'd eaten alone. He could get used to this. But not too much. It would hurt to leave.

For poor Leander it was pure torture to sit that close to Vlad. Soon he would drink his blood. That was going to be super awkward - and embarrassing... And probably dangerous. Vlad had no fangs. Would they have to cut his - his what? From which part of his body would he drink? His neck? Wrist?

No one had noticed the Saja had left quietly. Like a shadow. The boy was waiting to be guided to the afterlive by him.

For youtube, I chose the Fever version from the Muppet Show with Rita Moreno and Animal (imagine it's Noxee and Jack ^^') TMI: You might know Rita Moreno as Abuelita from 'One Day at a Time' or as Anita from 'West Side Story' (just to mention 2). She's an amazing artist and one of the very few EGOTs (who won an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar, and a Tony! Only 27 people have achieved this status.)

Playlist Chapter 3 -> Spotify -> youtube Playlist Chapter 2 -> Spotify -> youtube Playlist Chapter 1 -> Spotify -> youtube

Previous (Get the Party started) - Next (It's my Party) The 'As if it's your last' Story Hub is -> here Read Chapter 3 from the beginning -> here Read Chapter 2 from the beginning -> here Read Chapter 1 from the beginning -> here Chapter 1 Episode Overview -> here Chapter 2 Episode Overview -> here Chapter 3 Episode Overview -> here

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notafraidofredyellowandblue · 9 months ago

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Is it true that Richard has a lake house just like Till?

I honestly have no idea 🌺

For some reason Richard doesn't seem much into fishing like Till (i could be wrong), but ofcourse you can do a lot more fun stuff with a lake house than just fishing (as Schneider showed us a few times 😊)

Oh wait, I do remember a few years back Richard posted himself drumming in an unfamiliar environment, I don't think you could see much more of the house than this, but maybe that's got people thinking he has a second home somewhere (maybe on a lake)?

also i wonder if this was that old drumkit of Schneider that was worn out and not fit to use for Rammstein anymore, and Richard confiscated it because he thought it the best drumkit ever 🥰

#rammstein #richard kruspe #shame he doesn't save his stories #it was fun seeing him drumming

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soundslivemagazine · 4 months ago

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When We Silence The Music, We All Lose

Recently, I came across an instrument company called AeroBand that makes wireless MIDI ‘air drums’ with a sort of haptic feedback response, marketed as ‘silent’ drums, and the concept stuck with me for a while. The purpose of these ‘drums’ would be fairly obvious to anyone who has ever lived in shared or rented accommodation: keep the noise down, be a good neighbour! But it also signals a bigger problem with vanishing musical and communal ‘third’ spaces where loud music, loud kids and activity can exist, and the music in turn gets quieter and more invisible until you can’t hear what it is saying anymore.

We have gone from drum kits to electronic pads and deadened practice kits for the domestic drummer, to eventually having people in rented accommodation being so worried about noise complaints that they’ve had to create drum-less drums. No drummer prefers these, they are simply a way of protecting yourself from eviction. Living in matchbox houses with paper thin walls made of cheap and in-no-way soundproof material, packed so close you’re a stone’s throw from your neighbours, we’ve silenced the drumkit entirely.

Is it any surprise then that people are not forming bands in the numbers they used to 30 years ago? Is it a surprise that we moved from bands rehearsing in basements and garages in their houses, to samples, electronic kits, MIDI, solo ‘bedroom’ stuff; even as we lose more and more rehearsal spaces, and schools stop offering kids musical lessons because they must be inferior to subjects that lead to a job in IT or finance? We lose youth centres, community spaces, musical spaces, and everyone’s world gets a little quieter.

Gentrification. People move into the ‘fun’ parts of town and then file complaints against the very things that make an area ‘fun’ in the first place: music, noises, lights, life, later evening events and establishments. A residential permit accidentally granted to a builder in downtown Montreal’s vibrant entertainment and culture district and the subsequent noise complaints from residents who knowingly moved in next to an old, culturally significant music theatre, have recently led to the shutting of the 130-year old La Tulipe. Kingston, Ontario’s BLU Martini, a beautiful 400-capacity bar and music venue located right on the downtown waterfront, shut its doors this September after 41 years of playing an important role in the city’s homegrown music scene, ten in its final location. With no one else wanting to pick up the mantle, the space’s next inhabitants will be Chuck’s Roadhouse Bar and Grill, who aren’t particularly interested in ensuring the space continues to host emerging live musical talent. Cardiff grassroots venue The Moon, known for launching the careers of many of the UK’s best emerging musicians, closed its doors last month.

Tiny Horse (left) and The Wilderness (right) at Kingston's BLU Martini in 2024.

Elsewhere, city councils are so afraid of the word ‘rave’, they aren’t fully sure what it means but think it means ‘illicit drugs-taking event’ and want to ban any instance of it. The raves move out of the city, to obscure, remote locations, or abandon the city altogether. The city loses another piece of its existing culture.

Sometimes we stop the music right at the source: The Rehearsal Factory, a notable rehearsal space with spots all over Toronto, has dwindled down to 2 or 3 locations over the last 20 years, with their notable Richmond St. branch being sold off to a controversial Australian megachurch. Roswell Rehearsals lost its space in Kingston two years ago due to noise complaints, and its absence was sorely felt by the city’s many young, renting musicians who felt caught out by the lack of a dedicated musical space. Fearing hefty fines, potential police action and even eviction if they tried to practise indoors, the warm welcome it received on reopening its doors this October was evidence of how much it was needed in the local music community. As more and more artists live in rented or shared accommodations where practising out loud simply isn’t practical, the loss of rehearsal spaces within reasonable commuting distance is effectively the death of emerging music: it either is forced to spread itself thin hours outside of towns and cities, the congregation sites of culture and events, or it dies altogether, leaving the cultural fabric of the whole nation weaker and less colourful.

I wanted to take a walking tour of historically important music sites in London when I visited. As one of the music capitals of the world, London, and the UK by extension, have been responsible for a large amount of global popular culture: with an annual music export worth £2.5 billion in 2021, they are one of only 3 countries that exports more music than it imports, and the second-largest exporter overall.

The inner city of London alone has had many important venues, clubs, studios— the Blitz, where the New Romantic kids first congregated for their David Bowie nights in the 1980s, The 2i’s Coffee Bar, where many stars of the 1960s were discovered, including Cliff Richards, Tommy Steel, Francis Bacon and much of the skiffle movement, are just two examples.

New Romantic kids at the Blitz in Soho, London in the 1980s.

Neither exists anymore. Three-fourths of the planned London music tour involved looking for ghosts: empty spaces, corporate offices and residence buildings sitting on the burial grounds of moments of cultural significance. I didn’t end up doing the tour, I didn’t think I could bear to look at these places, to try and imagine what they once were and what their downfall means for the health of the modern music scene.

The London-based neo-jazz group Ezra Collective formed in 2012 as teenagers in a youth club: they were in the Tomorrow’s Warriors youth band, a music education initiative at the South Bank Centre in London. Eleven years later, they shone as the first-ever jazz winners of the prestigious Mercury Music Prize for their 2023 album, Where I’m Meant To Be, signalling a shift in how their musical movement blending traditional jazz with RnB, soul, electronic, alternative, Afrobeats and hip hop, has been steadily gaining legitimacy as a uniquely British sound, even within the traditional circles of jazz study where it was once treated as mongrel.

In his acceptance speech at the Mercuries, Ezra Collective percussionist Femi Koleoso took time to celebrate their youth club beginnings, praising the ‘good, special people putting time and effort into [helping] young people to play music’. Much has been made of the benefits music has for young people: everything from developing brains to keeping kids off the street, giving them a sense of community and purpose; something to look forward to and love. Ezra Collective are proof of just how far providing young people with musical spaces can go.

youtube

Sure, sites pop up and go down all the time, often shining brightly for a short period of time. That is part and parcel of being in the ideas- and coffee (alcohol?)-driven, volatile, passion-fuelled and chronically underfunded art scene that music is. But when over the years, we are left with less and less: fewer spaces, stricter laws, higher costs, less funding, decreasing importance given to the role musicians play in society, and ultimately fewer venues to play, fewer musicians, and certainly fewer of the vital working class voices that so often hold a mirror to our society, as music becomes the reserve of the rich, there is no doubting that its strength and conviction will dilute without conscious intervention.

It’s the same with the Bluetooth drums. I know the makers only want to do good, bless them for trying, and I don’t doubt a lot of people will find this a better practice solution than drawing MIDI notes on a quantized grid, because it still feels a little like playing live, albeit hitting the air with vibrating haptic feedback. It’ll be AR or VR drums next, inevitably. I’m aware of the passage of time and I don’t wish it ill.

What saddens me is that we lose so much of the spirit of art and culture to this dilution. The music getting quieter as to not offend the neighbours, even as musicians get slowly choked out of gentrified spaces. Writers being unable (or less freely able) to explore darker themes so as to not set the dogs of the ‘problematic writing’ police on them. Artists presenting as less dramatic so as to not appear ‘weird’ to an uninvested audience; TikTok’s adherence to a straitjacketed definition of correctly performed ‘authenticity’. Making fun of anyone who dares to dress weird, look different, say something new. You see it everywhere. Art gets diluted to become palatable with ever-diminishing returns, and in doing so it loses its ability to express itself and say something that needs to be said.

I don’t know. Some could look at it as the weird, twisted, fucked up plant growing through cracks in the pavement, doing what it can to reach the sunlight. Art surviving despite everything; changing, evolving, and somehow being more poignant and posing a stronger message as a result.

But even a 22h everlasting candle has an end. We’ve got to do more to protect our artistic spaces and outlets, and the ability to create without fear, or we risk losing them forever. It takes just one generation to train out habits; we see it with other obsolete things, let’s not let art be one of those.

Read on Sounds Live Magazine.

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lavenderstobins · 26 days ago

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any headcannons of the josieverse?

technically all my headcanons are canon since it's my au but YES!!!! i do

steve gets up earlier than everyone else so he cooks breakfast every morning before josie has school and then sits doing the newpapser crossword while drinking his coffee. as everyone gets ready for their morning they chip in with help for his crossword

robin and steve have a cat named doorbell (they call her bel). when josie is around three, claudia (dustin's mom) ends up with a litter of kittens because she'd been feeding a stray cat that turned out to be pregnant. josie gets to name all the kittens and they end up adopting one of them and josie names him sir tony tippington the third (tips for short)

josie is born in san jose, california but they move back to hawkins when she's a few months old. initially they stay at the harrington house because they have nowhere else to stay but robin knows it causes steve misery so they end up managing to buy a house in hawkins before josie's first birthday (helped somewhat by steve's mom, because she divorces his dad and his dad decides to sell the house)

robin has a one night stand with suzie's older sister eden when josie's around two. a few days later they run into each other again at a bbq the hendersons are throwing (aka the reason eden was in town to begin with)

my fic neck full of mockingbirds is canon to josieverse even though it isn't in the actual series. carol shows up again when they've been living in hawkins for a few years and there's a continuation of the fic specific to josieverse (that is currently in my drafts)

josie takes her first steps trying to get to robin

steve and robin have a lavender marriage but they decide to have a wedding for the hell of it. robin wears a white suit and josie, who is three, wears a tiny matching white suit, except she also has bright red ladybird socks because she refused to take them off

lucas and max get married in December '95, on the anniversary of the snowball dance. they send nancy an invite not really expecting her to even respond because nancy has long since stopped interacting with everyone. except nancy does respond... by showing back up in hawkins determined to make amends. this is what kicks off the ronance arc and also how nancy finally meets josie

josie overhears steve and eddie murmuring about whether they should give nancy the shovel talk when nancy and robin decide to give their relationship a go. josie misunderstands but loves gardening so she picks up the shovel and waves it at nancy the next time nancy's in the garden with them

josie has a gaptooth

max and lucas get josie a drumkit for her fifth birthday and think they're hilarious. they tried to get her a kazoo for her first birthday but she was too little to do anything but slobber all over it.

lumax's drumkit actually does kickstart josie's love of drumming. she forms a band with some friends as a teen and she is of course their drummer

steve signs on as a mechanic under this older guy and when the guy retires he hands the business off to steve. steve has a grand reopening and they throw a teeny party for him. also when josie graduates high school she starts working there too

robin becomes a college lecturer but only when josie's older. she graduates college the same year josie graduates high school and they have a photo of the two of them in their graduation get-up together

josie's first relationship is when she's 15 and it's with this 15 year old guy called kyle who is also in a band. steve hates him because he remembers what guys were like at 15 but eddie is lowkey trying to earn cool points with kyle because he, too, was in a band once

josie and kyle have at least three major breakups before they actually breakup for good. robin comes home to josie blasting Since U Been Gone loud enough that she can hear it inside her car before she even opens the door after their first breakup

josie eventually dates and marries a woman named danny and they have four children together: penny, omari, james and cameron. penny is josie's but carried by danny, omari is danny's but carried by josie. james is adopted and initially they were going to stop with her but then james' bio mom had another baby (cam) and so they took her in too. robin tears up when josie tells them about danny being pregnant but steve bawls because he's so excited

nancy takes a little while to figure out whether she wants to take on the responsibility of parenthood and become josie's stepmom but she once she figures out she does want it she drives straight over to robin's. very much in the vein of When Harry Met Sally's "when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible"

i'll leave it there since this is WAY too long but thank you for asking!!!

let’s do sleepover saturday sunday

#asks #answered #anonymous #josieverse #lavenderstobins josieverse #josie buckley

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nemmet · 2 years ago

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thinking about be cool scooby doo fred on this delightful evening. he's afraid of widths. he gets emotional over a drumkit. he knows how to apply eyeliner perfectly. he's a sleep deprived, paranoid, manic danger to himself and others. he becomes enemies with a goat. his shoulders are so tense that they can break a chair. he goes to jail twice. where on earth did he get the funds to give the mystery machine all those high-tech upgrades. he hired a guy to make his epiphanies look more dramatic. the exterior of his house is an affront to god. he cannot take care of himself to save his life. he is a middle aged dad stuck in the body of an eighteen year old. he has childhood trauma related to halloween. he accidentally parked his van on a space shuttle. he is consistently aggravated by daphne’s commitment to the bit. he really needs to let go of those tiny red shorts. he's a court jester. he represents the order to his criminal father's chaos. he has control issues stemming from this but tries to overcome them for the sake of the gang and always apologises when he goes too far and knows that even when they wind him up it isn't a threat because he loves and trusts them so much and they care about him in turn even before he fully opens up to them about his childhood and—

#i finished the show earlier this month and MAN do i have feelings about this guy #i was working on a piece based on the finale but had to put it on hold for dtiys stuff #i'll return to it when i can!!!#needless to say i adore this fred #i wasn't sure of him at first due to my attachment to the goofier freds of recent memory like wnsd and sdmi #but bcsd is an absolute joy in his own right and one of my favourite freds for sure #it's a nice change of pace to see him mostly in the neurotic straight man role #but the writers still give him silly moments aplently!! night of the upsetting shorts might be the funniest sd episode ever made #also his character development in learning to work through his control issues and trust the gang more is subtle yet rewarding #and the finale. i promise i cried a normal amount. at a show called BE COOL SCOOBY DOO #anyway goodnight coolsville ohio please watch bcsd it's unbelievably good #scooby doo #fred jones #fred scooby doo #be cool scooby doo #nem misc posts :]#scooby doo and nemmet too!

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nerd-party · 5 months ago

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Idk what a drabble is but I'll take one

your wish is my command!!! thank you for your help soldier

“Dude, catch up! You’re way behind the beat.” Nick complains, stopping mid-riff to wipe the sweaty sheen from his forehead. It’s always Nick that complains, never Lark or Paeden- they just keep powering through, oblivious to the noise going on elsewhere.

Terry shakes his head, completely out of it. The rented studio reeks of sweat and weed, and their equipment is cluttering the place up no end. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to make the acoustics fit in his mind- his bassline keeps tripping over his snare and knocking into the hi-hat in his mind’s eye- or ear, rather.

“Sorry, man. Guess I’m just tired.” He says, wheezing a little. It’s really, truly difficult to breathe in here, and they’ve already discovered that the window doesn’t open more than an inch. Nick huffs a little and holds his pick between his teeth to tie back his hair. It’s… something. It looks good.

Terry has been playing drums with Nick for six-and-a-half years last week. He doesn’t know why he remembers that date so well; he isn’t really sure he wants to know. There’s a lot of things he doesn’t want to know, like where Paeden disappears off to when the others aren’t around, or where Lark sleeps when Terry’s place is full.

He especially doesn’t want to know why every so often his eyes will catch on Nick’s lips whilst he sings, or how they wander over his slender form, trace the elegant lines of his hands when he plays the guitar. He doesn’t want to know why he can’t stop thinking about how Nick’s lips look when he swigs a beer, or how his arms look when he pops the trunk of a car to grab his amp. He doesn’t want to know.

Why is it so hard to breathe?

“Let’s just go again.” Lark says, resetting his keyboard and playing a few experimental notes. The first time Terry met Lark, he took him more for the bass, or maybe the drums like himself, but it turns out Lark has a way with keys; whether it’s lockpicking or piano, there’s a graceless fluidity to how he moves. It’s kind of entrancing to watch how he changes from turbulent chords into soft, flowing classics, Fur Elise spilling from his fingertips and bleeding through the speakers with closed eyes.

Paeden nods solemnly and tosses his now-empty Slush Puppy into the trash can. Freshly eighteen, his hands are calloused and worn from years of fighting and then metalworking with his adoptive dad Walter. He’s a strange kid- hard as nails but always looking for a good time. Sometimes he seems eight; other times, sixty-one. His bass is bright red and covered in stickers for The Prodigy and My Little Pony. He refuses to elaborate when asked.

Terry picks up his drumsticks and eyes them critically. He’s going to need new ones soon- these old A5’s are nearly worn out. He might get some new ones- that would be nice, he thinks, as he counts them in.

The band – the Watermice- smash through their first song flawlessly, letting Nick riff magnificently to end it off. In fact, most of their setlist plays off without a hitch, and Terry is really feeling it now, getting into the groove of the crash and snare, hands flying furiously across the drumkit. His lungs burn in his chest from exertion and the stale air of the room.

When the final strum of their final song- some old thing called ‘Skin’ by a ghost hunter- fills the room, Terry drops his sticks and leans back against the wall, vision swimming. While the rest of the band packs up, he struggles to take a breath, huffing and puffing his way through his asthma and praying this passes soon.

“I’m gonna head out. Need a ride, Paeden?” Lark says, keyboard case slung over his back. The latter nods and follows him out, snatching up his bass as the door swings shut. It seems to be happening very, very far away, through a fog or perhaps very dense mist.

Terry buries his head in his hands, the rest of the world swirling around him as his struggles to suck in breath after breath of sweaty, disgusting air. He can vaguely hear someone calling his name, getting louder and closer and closer until-

“TJ?” Nick says, his hand on Terry’s shoulder. “Man, what the hell happened to you?”

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. This is the worst situation Terry could possibly be in right now, because he already can’t breathe and now Nick is standing right over him, shaking his shoulder, as if it wasn’t hard enough already?

“Asthma.” Terry faintly wheezes in response, and Nick’s eyes clear instantly, warm brown pools of molten chocolate, blazing fiercely and smooth like chocolate all at once. He really, really likes those eyes.

“Shit. You got an inhaler?” Terry shakes his head no, and instantly Nick is rifling in his bag for his own.

“Why the fuck not?” He says, passing it to Terry and helping him move to the window, where the ghost of a breeze passes over his face. It’s heaven.

“Insurance is too expensive.” He gasps out, taking a puff of the inhaler, holding it one-two-three and breathing out. His vision is clearing up and the weight is lifting off his chest slowly but surely. Nick swims into focus beside him, silver sings cool against his skin, icy promises kissed into the soft flesh of his shoulder.

“That’s fucked.” Nick says, fiddling with the latch on the window to try and open it farther. Terry snorts derisively in response, nodding defeatedly.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well, for starters- ugh!” Nick starts to respond before throwing his hands up into the air in exasperation. “This window won’t budge.”

“Shoulda got Lark to do it.” Terry jokes, and Nick bristles, moving his hand from Terry’s side to the window to use some force.

Terry watches his face in simple wonder as it scrunches up, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration whilst he manipulates a latch. “Don’t need Lark. I can do it myself. Ha!” He says triumphantly, holding up a small piece of plastic snapped off the window and pushing it open with his free hand. Fresh air circulates the room instantly, freeing up space to breathe and washing away the reek of unwashed clothes.

“That’s better.” Terry hums contentedly, taking a few more deep breaths of real air. Nick slides down to wall to sit beside him, tipping his head back against the plaster. The side of his nack is exposed tantalisingly, the vampire-bite tattoo an easy target for Terry to hit- if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to.

Right?

“…but seriously, man, if you need, like, an inhaler, I can get you one.” Nick’s smooth voice slides back into the forefront of his mind and Terry mentally kicks himself for not listening. “I’ve got Glenn’s money, and he doesn’t give a shit.”

Terry snickers a little at that, relaxing ever so slightly so the exposed skin of their arms touch. Today, Nick is wearing a reddish graphic tee with the sleeves cut off, his collarbone decorated by a multitude of silver necklaces. His baggy black jorts are only help up by a thick chain, and Terry is struck by the inexplicable urge to loop his finger around it.

“I’m good.” He says dismissively.

“But you’re not.” Nick says, turning to face him, looking deadly serious for once. “This shit is life-threatening, dude. And- and I really care, y’know. About you.” His face and tone are soft as he slowly, hesitantly bring up on hand to brush the side of Terry’s face. He seems so nervous, a condition seen so rarely on Nick’s face that it’s only barely glimpsed at the end of rehearsal, when Terry is still packing up and Nick is standing at the door, looking like he’s got something on the tip of his tongue that refuses to budge.

Terry freezes. He’s not gay. Nick’s not gay. Like, they act gay, but that’s just shit you do with the boys. It’s all jokes.

Is it? Is it all jokes? Has it ever been, when Nick is this close to him and Terry is threading a hand through the soft black locks, staring into the other man’s eyes like they’ll save him from drowning in his own confusion?

Is it all jokes when Terry whispers back, as quiet and timid as a mouse, “I really care about you too.”

He doesn’t think so. Especially not when Nick finally brings their lips together and finally it makes sense why he remembers when they played together for the first time. It fits why he’s always looking at Nick, why he can’t seem to help being drawn to him like a moth to a flame. It makes sense why Nick only seems nervous when it’s just them.

They pull apart a little, eyes meeting as electricity zaps between the two of them. The way Nick’s eyes are sparkling with a barely concealed joy, and the reflection of his own in them, the same glee shining back. Nick’s hand moves to rest on Terry’s heart while his own hand twists further around the strand’s of Nick’s hair, tugging softly. It steals a soft gasp from him, tugging it out of his lips unannounced. Terry wants to follow the sound down his throat.

“But do you need an inhaler though?” Nick whispers into his lips and the two men, wrapped around each other on the floor, dissolve into teary laughter.

Terry smiles and wipes his eyes, grinning at Nick sheepishly. “I guess I probably do.”

Nick snorts. “Probably.”

“Definitely, if you keep doing that.” Terry says, reaching up to run his thumb over the tattoo on the other man’s neck and pressing a soft kiss to it.

“Careful what you wish for.” Nick warns, eyes sparkling dangerously. Nick is a challenge on all fronts, a game to be played and bested, to win and draw, but never to lose.

Good thing that Terry is very competitive.

“Oh, I’m wishing.” He says, biting down into the tender flesh.

#dndaddies #dungeons and daddies #dndads #dndads s2 #terry jr #nick close #nicholas foster #nick close-foster #terrick

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rippleclan · 10 months ago

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RippleClan: Moon 58

Rustshade dies of yellowcough.

[Image ID: Oilstripe begs the ghosts of Rustshade and Fennelspot, “Dad… Dad, no, I need you to visit.” Under her, it says + CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

Oilstripe probably should have felt bad about her father’s death. He was another founding member of the Clan, gone barely a moon after Fennelspot. And yet, Oilstripe was closer to Fennelspot in life and still didn’t grieve him. That was, in part, because she still saw him all the time.

Fennelspot loved to linger. Oilstripe was sure he would be one of the Blessed Ones, guiding the growth of herbs along, the Celestial of RippleClan Clerics (she was trying to get that title going for him early on, he was the first of their Clan after all). Oilstripe would see Fennelspot in the gardens often, trotting around the caretakers and eyeing how they tended his herbs. He would also show up in the medicine den, surprising Oilstripe when she went to see her daughter. Oddly enough, Troutpool was never shocked to hear of Fennelspot being around. She would say she “had a feeling” he was watching. Sometimes, Oilstripe forgot Fennelspot was dead at all. How could she grieve someone who never left?

That was how it was with Rustshade as the Clan sat at his vigil. Rattlepelt treated him well, weaving a crown of wheat stalks tenderly bartered from WheatClan, honoring his role in the Clan’s founding. His grandkits were with him now; Troutpool gently groomed his forehead as Honeykit, Splashkit, Leatherkit, and Drumkit, all just a few days away from their apprentice ceremony, pretended they weren’t still kits and kept quiet. Carnationspeckle, whose pelt was half-shaved from all the mats they had to cut off, sat with Downstar, offering a gentle word to her old mentor while her daughter and mate grieved. Except Oilstripe wasn’t grieving. She sat with Clammask, grooming the sadness off her pelt with Scrubmask on the other side, but Oilstripe’s eyes were off to the side. She wasn’t looking at her father’s empty shell, she was looking at Rustshade himself.

Rustshade sat with Fennelspot and Puddlespeckle, watching his own vigil. Valleybrook’s ghost sat a ways behind them (he had passed a while ago, killed by a human farming wheat). Oilstripe figured Rustshade needed time to process the fact that he was dead. She was sure it would have been a shock for him to fall asleep and never wake up. As Scrubmask collected her kits from Rustshade’s body, the ghosts wandered toward the exit. Oilstripe brushed against her younger sister once more and followed the spirits outside.

“Dad!” she called. Puddlespeckle continued on, vanishing into the tree line, but Fennelspot and Rustshade stopped and turned around. Oilstripe had to dig her back paws in to avoid tumbling through her father’s spirit. “So then, what did you think of your own vigil?”

“I’m happy with how I’ve been honored,” Rustshade sighed, whiskers drooping. “Take care of your sister and your kin, Oilstripe.” There was an odd finality to the phrase that made Oilstripe cock her head.

“You say that like I’m not going to keep seeing you around,” she laughed. Rustshade bristled and Fennelspot placed his tail on his friend’s back. One of the red petals that forever stayed in his fur slipped onto Rustshade’s pelt.

“I’m dead, Oilstripe,” Rustshade huffed like a mentor reminding their apprentice of an obvious fact. “That means I’m not going to be here to help you.”

“Yes, not in the same way you used to be,” Oilstripe chuckled awkwardly, one ear tilted to the side. “But you’ve always been a comforting weight at my side, and you’ll keep being that as a spirit of StarClan. You can join Applepelt when they shadow me sometimes. They’re good company.”

“No, Oilstripe,” Rustshade growled. “You don’t understand. The next time you see me, you’ll be a warrior of StarClan yourself.” Rustshade was right. Oilstripe did not understand.

“But I’ll see you when you visit the territories,” Oilstripe huffed. “just like I see Twinekit and Locustseeker and Burdockcreek.” A hole, not too different from the gnawing anxiety that bit her pelt when Carnationspeckle was held captive, opened in her chest.

“What your father means,” Fennelspot sighed, stepping closer, “is that he’s tired. He’s lost many of the cats he cared for. He is one of StarClan’s ranks who find returning to the Clans too painful. The friends you’ve known who have joined StarClan, they like to visit, but Rustshade wants to spend time with his long-gone children in the stars.”

“But no,” Oilstripe said, unable to stop a panicked laugh from slipping out, “that would mean he’s leaving me.” Fennelspot and Rustshade simply stared at Oilstripe, their gazes heavy. “Dad… Dad, no, I need you to visit.”

“You haven’t needed me in a long time, Oil,” Rustshade sighed. “You have a strong life built for yourself. You don’t need me.”

“No, Dad, I don’t know…” Oilstripe stammered. She reached a paw toward her father’s ghost. Rustshade stepped back. With a soft shake of his head and one last look with his stern heather eyes, he walked out toward the trees. “Dad, stop! Come back! Fennelspot, stop him! Bring him back!”

“I’m sorry, Oilstripe,” Fennelspot gulped. “Let him rest in peace.” Fennelspot ran to catch up to his old friend.

“Stop!” Oilstripe begged. “You can’t leave like that! You have to come back! Even for one visit! Dad!” Fennelspot and Rustshade were nothing but specks of red among the early dawn trees. One blink and they were gone..

When the Witch Hunters captured Carnationspeckle, Oilstripe had not known what to do. There was an uncertainty in her heart, a hundred questions she could not answer. She supported Troutpool and Rattlepelt, demanded answers from Lemmy, and searched for reassurance when she could. She was scared, but she had not felt hopeless, because if Carnationspeckle had died, her spirit would have stayed at her side. She would return, not in the way she wanted, but she would have returned.

Was this what true grief felt like?

Oilstripe needed the pain to go away. She didn’t know how to handle it. It was killing her. She couldn’t breathe. She needed her father’s quiet support at her side. She crouched in the sand, shaking. Why would Rustshade leave her like that? Didn’t she mean something to her father?

“Oilstripe.” Carnationspeckle’s soft, gentle fur pushed into Oilstripe’s stiff pelt. Her touch broke down the wall in Oilstripe’s throat. A deep, guttural sob broke free.

“He’s leaving me!” Oilstripe wailed. “He’s leaving me behind!” Carnationspeckle was strong; she could handle Oilstripe’s entire weight against her. Oilstripe shook so hard, she thought she might break like Trumpetspore’s half-finished pottery.

“When you rescued me,” Carnationspeckle said softly, “you told me you’d do everything possible to make my heart right again, and thanks to you, I know I’ll get there someday. I’ll do the same for you.” Each mate pressed into the other, clinging for life like debris along the sea.

(Oilstripe: 62, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Fennelspot: 113, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Rustshade: 102, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Puddlespeckle: 156, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Carnationspeckle: 60, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

When Scrubmask and Clammask’s kits are apprenticed, Honeypaw asks to train as a cleric and gets cicada wings as decor. His littermates train as a historian, warrior, and caretaker respectively, apprenticed to Weedfoot, Trumpetspore, and Elmsprout.

[Image ID: Honeypaw, Splashpaw, Leatherpaw, and Drumpaw all have their apprentice forms, with Honeypaw sporting some cicada wings. Under Honeypaw, it says LEVEL UP! HONEYKIT -> HONEYPAW, NOISY -> DARING, + ACCESSORY: CICADA WINGS. Under Splashpaw, it says LEVEL UP! SPLASHKIT -> SPLASHPAW, NOISY -> BOLD. Under Leatherpaw, it says LEVEL UP! LEATHERKIT -> LEATHERPAW, IMPULSIVE -> VENGEFUL. Under Drumpaw, it says LEVEL UP! DRUMKIT -> DRUMPAW, QUIET -> LOYAL.]

(Honeypaw: 6, male, cleric apprentice, daring, has lots of ideas)

(Splashpaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still)

(Leatherpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, vengeful, avid play-fighter, confident with words)

(Drumpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, loyal, moss-ball hunter)

Waspdawn’s tail is injured by a fox.

[Image ID: Splashpaw sneaks off while Troutpool and Honeypaw surround Waspdawn, who has + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL written underneath him.]

---

Elmsprout had gotten into a bit of trouble; Parsley accused her of giving prey to AshClan, as seen on one of her many strolls with Carnationspeckle. Waspdawn and Puddlewhisper, chosen as defender and inquisitor to the potential trial ahead, went out to investigate the scene and get information from AshClan. Unfortunately, they stumbled across a rather sickly and feral old fox that stuck a solid blow against Waspdawn, nearly biting his tail clean off! It threw the Clan into a bit of a whirlwind. Lavendertwist, who had gotten his stitches out but still wasn’t allowed to speak or eat hard foods, stayed at his wounded brother’s side. Weedfoot and James shared tongues outside the medicine den, waiting for news.

That left Splashpaw deeply, deeply bored.

He probably should have felt worse about Waspdawn’s terrible injury, but he had no doubt he would be fine. Honeypaw had only been training for a quarter moon and was already great at his job. But with Weedfoot worrying over her kit, Splashpaw could only sit in camp and kick at clouds.

Leatherpaw and Drumpaw trotted out of the apprentice’s den, laughing. Splashpaw rolled to his paws, eyes gleaming.

“What are you doing?” Splashpaw asked, leaping to his littermates’ side.

“Trumpetspore and Elmsprout are taking us to our first sparring session!” Leatherpaw cheered with a playful wiggle of his flank. “I won’t lie, I’m a little nervous to see what actual battle is like, but I can’t wait to drive off predators and rogues!”

“Nervous?” Drumpaw laughed softly. “More like overeager. Trumpetspore will stomp that out.”

“Please take me with you,” Splashpaw begged, crouching pitifully. “I’m so bored.”

“Our mentors will be focused on our training, not yours,” Leatherpaw said. “You’ll have to keep yourself entertained.”

“But Honeypaw’s busy with Waspdawn, and our moms are on patrol!” Splashpaw whined.

“Figure it out!” Leatherpaw said without a hint of sympathy. Drumpaw, at least, gently batted Splashpaw’s ear. Leatherpaw and Drumpaw ran to the entrance, where their mentors were already waiting for them. Splashpaw watched, envy bubbling in his stomach, as they sauntered off. As soon as they left, Mosspounce walked in, tail held low.

“Mosspounce!” Splashpaw called. “Can you show me some battle moves? Or take me hunting? Please, give me something to do.” Splashpaw rolled onto his back in front of Mosspounce.

“Not now, Splashpaw,” Mosspounce sighed, stepping over the gold and white apprentice. Splashpaw cocked his head, still upside-down.

“Did you not enjoy your walk?” Splashpaw huffed, turning right side up. Mosspounce groaned dramatically and gave into the apprentice’s insistence, sitting.

“It wasn’t just a walk,” he grumbled. “I was waiting by the river for Lemmy. Again.” Splashpaw had a very clear memory of Lemmy from her visit three moons prior, after Carnationspeckle went missing. She had seemed so fierce, even with her silly yellow collar.

“She still hasn’t come to see you?” Splashpaw huffed. “I thought we were friends with the Witch Hunters now.”

“They could have found out about her dreams,” Mosspounce mumbled. “They would have labeled her a witch if they knew about them. It’s just that… I think I really liked her, Splashpaw. I wanted her to join RippleClan. I thought that’s why StarClan visited her dreams. But maybe not.” Mosspounce shook his head and slunk into the warrior’s den. As his black tail vanished, Splashpaw got an idea. A brilliant, stunning, heroic, fun idea.

Splashpaw glanced around camp. Most cats were focused on the medicine den, waiting for an update on Waspdawn. Splashpaw fluffed himself up and marched out of camp.

“Where are you off with such swagger?” Tempestshade was guarding the entrance and purred mischievously when Splashpaw appeared. The lie came to Splashpaw with shocking ease.

“Weedfoot said I could join my littermates at Battle Beach!” Splashpaw chirped. “It’s north along the shore, right?”

“Head straight there, and have fun,” Tempestshade said with a nod. Splashpaw chirped happily and jogged away from camp.

Splashpaw was going to be a hero. He was going to find Lemmy and bring her to RippleClan for the reward she deserved.

(Splashpaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still)

(Leatherpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, vengeful, avid play-fighter, confident with words)

(Drumpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, loyal, moss-ball hunter)

(Mosspounce: 19, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Tempestshade: 19, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Splashpaw heads into the human settlements to find Lemmy.

[Image ID: Splashpaw now wears a purple ribbon collar, and has + ACCESSORY: PURPLE RIBBON COLLAR written under him. He says to Lemmy, who has + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH under her, “This is a rescue mission!” Lemmy replies, “Yet we’re both trapped now.”]

---

Splashpaw wasn’t sure why so many of his Clanmates talked about the human settlement like the Dark Forest on earth. Yes, it smelled, it was loud, and until just recently, the loners that lived there might have killed Splashpaw for visiting. But Splashpaw liked the intense smells and sounds. He liked the tall dens and whinnying horses. He could see why so many cats lived here, whether with humans or along the horse paths. Who knew what stories and adventures lay hidden among the humans and Witch Hunters?

Splashpaw trotted eagerly through the streets, largely ignored by the humans. It was late afternoon, and the humans were as active as a Clan full of kits. They yowled and jostled one another, waving their paws about and stepping around the horse dung that covered the paths. Splashpaw knew the dangers of a horse path; Spikecrash made it her mission to warn every new litter of the danger of horses, sharing the tale of her scar. Yet the horses and monsters they dragged about moved slowly, careful to avoid the humans.

As Splashpaw crept among the humans, one of their gangly pink paws reached down and stroked his back. He shivered at the foreign touch and scampered away. To his surprise, the touch didn’t feel too bad! If humans touched kittypets like that all the time, Splashpaw could see the appeal of the lifestyle. He shook himself out though. He needed to focus!

A group of humans yowled and gawked at baskets of strange fruit, set within a wooden structure. A lilac tom relaxed at the base of the structure, idly watching the humans.

“Excuse me!” Splashpaw yowled. He weaved around the humans to reach the tom. “I’m looking for Lemmy. She’s a tortoiseshell with a yellow collar. Have you seen her?”

“I haven’t seen Lemmy since before that trouble at the Singing Place,” the tom sighed. “Sorry, young tom. .” Splashpaw crept underneath the structure and around the chattering humans. Even the loners of the human settlement hadn’t seen Lemmy? What had happened to her?

Two pink paws wrapped around Splashpaw’s torso. He should have yowled and clawed, bitten and kicked at his attacker, scrambled away to rethink his plan. Yet as his paws left the ground, Splashpaw was frozen. What was happening? He looked overhead and saw the gleaming, furless face of a human. It bared its teeth and made a high pitched sound that hurt Splashpaw’s ears. Splashpaw hissed as his heart beat wildly. He snapped his jaws at the human’s small paws, but even as his fangs dug into the soft flesh, the human’s grip only tightened. It made that high pitched sound again and pressed Splashpaw to its chest. The billowing fabric around its lower half swished as it spun and took off down a side path away from the taller humans.

How had Splashpaw not seen the human reaching for him? He had been so distracted by the other humans and his own quest, he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings. That was the first thing Weedfoot told him when she showed him the territory; even when he was simply enjoying time outside camp, he had to pay attention. He could never predict when an excited dog or angry bear could stroll through the trees and pick Splashpaw as its next meal. He had forgotten that simple lesson, and now he was going to meet some cruel fate at the paws of a mad human.

Splashpaw squirmed and clawed at the human’s pale overcoat, but he couldn’t break through the strange material. All of his efforts were met with a tighter hold that squeezed the air out of him. The human was slow, but its gangly walk disoriented Splashpaw. Eventually, as fewer and fewer humans appeared around Splashpaw and his captor, the human slowed. It stood in front of a den that was likely squat by human standards but still towered over any cat. Another small human waited by the den’s entrance with a long white pelt in its paws. It hurried over to its companion and wrapped the pelt around Splashpaw. His legs pressed into himself. He couldn’t move!

The second human revealed a new object from the ripples of its colorful pelt; a bright purple ribbon. It reminded Splashpaw of James’ ragged black ribbon he still insisted he wore. Splashpaw’s terror cooled for a moment as the human wrapped the ribbon around his neck. It was shockingly smooth; no wonder James and Lavendertwist wore theirs as much as they could!

The peace only lasted a moment, however, as the pair of humans carried Splashpaw around their den and toward a smaller wooden den. The second human hurried ahead and moved the wooden barrier that revealed the dark interior. The human carrying Splashpaw quickly unwrapped his restraints and tossed him into the shadows. He spun and bolted for the exit, but the humans quickly slammed the wooden wall shut.

“Let me out!” Splashpaw yowled. “I’m not a kittypet! I’m a RippleClan historian!”

“They’ll be back with food later.” Splashpaw jumped. He peered into the darkness of the small den, barely big enough for a few cats. Giant human tools sat against the wall, sharp points jutting toward Splashpaw, ready to kill. A black lump laid in the corner, deep blue eyes glaring at Splashpaw. The entire den reeked of sick. As Splashpaw’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see the strange molly’s yellow collar and red patches.

“Are you Lemmy?” he gasped, trying not to sneer at the smell.

“You were one of the kits from RippleClan,” Lemmy huffed. She crept closer to Splashpaw before suddenly shivering. She coughed violently, bright yellow phlegm splattering onto the wooden floor. Memories of Rustshade’s phlegm crusted face splashed through Splashpaw’s mind.

“Stay back!” Splashpaw yelped, pressing against the wall. “You have yellowcough. You could get me sick.”

“I’ll try not to,” Lemmy grumbled as she shook from the effort of coughing.

“Have you been here this whole time?” Splashpaw asked, claws digging into the wood. “Mosspounce has been looking for you.”

“I’m not surprised,” Lemmy sighed softly. “I was going to assist him in rescuing his friend, but those human kits snatched me and threw me in here. I think they want me to be their housecat.”

“A collar means you already have a human, though,” Splashpaw huffed. “Why would they take you from them?”

“I don’t believe my human is very popular among the others,” Lemmy grumbled, shaking her head as she shivered once more. “He tends to keep to his den. I wouldn’t be surprised if the kits thought they were rescuing me.”

“That’s what I’m here to do!” Splashpaw chirped, standing a bit taller. “This is a rescue mission!”

“Yet we’re both trapped now,” Lemmy said. She returned to her spot in the back of the den. “If you’re quick when they return, you can likely slip away.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Splashpaw huffed.

“Then you’ll rot,” Lemmy growled, lips curled. Muffled yowls broke through the walls. Splashpaw backed up, ears perked. The yowling grew closer and closer. Suddenly, the wooden barrier tilted aside. Two big humans, male and female, crouched in the grass with long pelts in their paws. Splashpaw hissed, a warrior’s courage filling his heart. The humans cooed and clicked, but Splashpaw now knew better. He slashed at the long pelt and raked his claws along the big human’s paw. This time, the human yelped and pulled back.

“Still hopeless now?” Splashpaw yowled, kicking Lemmy. “Let’s go!” Life leaked through Lemmy’s cold eyes. She pushed herself up and, with whatever strength she had left, ran between the big humans. Splashpaw was right on her tail.

The human kits cried and wailed from the comfort of their large den as the older humans nursed their wounds. Splashpaw and Lemmy kept going. They ran across empty horse paths, as far from the human dens as they could. Splashpaw glanced back. Thank StarClan, the older humans were not chasing them; rather, they yowled at their wailing kits, utterly ignoring the escaping cats.

Lemmy collapsed as soon as they hit the trees. Splashpaw stopped, panting. Lemmy hacked up more phlegm, almost vomiting from the effort.

“I did it!” Splashpaw cheered, prancing around Lemmy. “I rescued you! I’m a hero!”

“We only got out because the adults finally realized their kits were keeping us trapped in there,” Lemmy growled, struggling to breathe.

“But maybe that realized that because they saw their kits grab me!” Splashpaw chirped. “And you said it yourself, you didn’t feel strong enough to run out on your own. So that means I saved you.” Lemmy laughed softly, shaking her head.

“That little black kitten kept telling me to stay strong,” she scoffed. “I never thought she would send a kit barely older than she.”

“I’m an apprentice!” Splashpaw huffed with mock indignation. “Wait, I never told you my name! I’m Splashpaw. Mosspounce has been waiting for you. He rescued Carnationspeckle thanks to you! Everyone in the Clan loves Carnationspeckle, so Downstar agreed that if Mosspounce found you again, he could offer you a position in the Clan!” Lemmy narrowed her eyes. “What’s that face for? What, do you not want to join RippleClan?” Lemmy seemed to have a sharp retort ready to go, but she tightened her jaw instead.

Splashpaw took in their surroundings. Truthfully, he had no idea where he was. Still, he knew his directions, and if he kept heading south, he would eventually hit the Great Northern River. He wasn’t sure if Lemmy had the strength to swim, but if they could find the stepping stones, they would be back in RippleClan like that! It was close to sunset though; his mothers would be so mad when he finally got home.

“I should make my way back,” Lemmy muttered, but she did not get up.

“And break Mosspounce’s heart?” Splashpaw scoffed. “You do realize he is in love with you, don’t you?” Lemmy blinked, her emotions well hidden behind her calculated gaze.

“He does remember I tried to kill him, doesn’t he?” Lemmy said.

“I think that’s part of why he likes you,” Splashpaw admitted. “It’s a little gross to me, but you shouldn’t keep him waiting. He told the Clan you would make a great codekeeper. I think it’s like what you used to do with the Witch Hunters, but you’re enforcing the warrior code rather than what the Witch Hunters follow. The Witch Hunter Code? I don’t know.” Lemmy stared at Splashpaw for a while. She stared for so long that his long fur started to burn. Eventually, Lemmy got to her paws with another cough.

“I can at least get my cough cured, I suppose,” Lemmy sighed. Splashpaw couldn’t hide his glee as his tail rose high. Lemmy shook her head, but there was no longer any malice in her face.

“Then I’ll lead you home, new Clanmate,” Splashpaw chirped.

As Splashpaw and Lemmy stalked into the trees, making their way toward their new shared home in the dimming light, Lemmy asked, “Do you know the way back?”

“I’m trusting my instincts!”

“So you don’t know?”

“...no.”

“This will be a long night.”

(Splashpaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still)

(Lemmy: 34, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)

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