#the colors and texture are so noice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elfy-elf-imagines · 4 years

Text

Rewrite the Stars | Haldir

Pairing: Haldir x reader

Genre: angst; fluff at the end

Warnings: talks of death; war

Requested: N/A

Prompt: -

Words: 3,604

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page 💕 I hope you all enjoy this one, it was a real treat to write! ♡

o0o0o0o

Your body felt like it was on fire.

Like there was a flame slowly traveling up your body, burning anything it touches, only leaving behind ashes. It moves slowly, painstakingly slow, drawing out each agonizing moment just a second too long. Each time you’d attempt to will it away it would persist, despite the rain drenching you and everyone else. Every breath sounded like you were screaming into an endless void that drowned out every other sense as you gripped your longsword tightly. Your eyelashes tickled the tops of your cheeks, faintly caressing them each time you’d blink; the gentle touch a stark contrast to the stifling fear you were drowning in. You’d been tip toeing around this moment, forcing the thoughts and worries out of your brain. An attempt to deal with it another day, or perhaps never have to deal with it. But that’s not how time works, so here you and everyone are, dealing with it.

The army of orcs marched towards Helm’s Deep, their burning torches only minorly flickering in the rain. The Uruk Hai general let out a guttural yell, the sound sending a chill down your spine. It raised the hairs on the back of your neck and formed goosebumps across any exposed skin. The beasts in full plate began chanting, the animalistic noice grating to your ears as they beat their spears into the ground. The pain in your head was nearly unbearable, their offbeat chants clashed against one another. Not that you expected orcs to be in perfect tune with each other. The only solace you found was the blade in your hand. The grip on it was so tight you couldn’t feel anything in that arm, causing you to glance at it to ensure the limb was even still attached.

And has a man’s arrow he had knocked loosened, piercing into one of the orcs, everything stopped. The orcs silenced immediately, both sides watching bewildered for a moment. Your ability to breath stopped altogether. The battle was inevitable, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to prolong it. But that was no longer an option when the orcs began to scream, the noise more unnerving than their initial war chants.

And then they were running. The sea of orcs rushing towards the wall like cockroaches skittering from the light. Except these cockroaches were terrifying; donning full plate armor and wielding deadly weapons they would gladly use to butcher you. Aragorn shouts out a command to the elven archers, moving them into action immediately. Your eyes briefly land on Haldir, the Marchwarden a mere three people away from you. A bigger pit settled in your stomach and your eyes moved to scan the rest of the elven army.

He’s going to die; they’re all going to die.

And the dread must’ve shown on your face, because for a miniscule of a second, Haldir met your gaze. His expression asked a million questions as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. But before you can do a thing, he’s firing another arrow at the orcs, gaze long gone from your form. A flurry of arrows fire from behind you on the ground level, soaring high above your head as they pierced into the approaching force. A moment too soon, they’ve descended upon you, clinging to crudely made ladders that find purchase against the stone.

For a brief moment they appeared more like a group of monkeys hanging off a tree rather than the grotesque beasts they were, but the humor was swiftly wiped from your mind when a large Uruk Hai charged you. You managed to dodge his attack, not attempting to parry from previous experiences. Instead you nimbly rolled towards his blind spot and stuck your blade deep into his skin. But as soon as he fell, another took his place, and then another, and then another.

And as your sword slices through the neck of an orc, you catch one last glimpse at Haldir as he disappears in the swarm of bodies. You wanted to chase after Haldir, to scream what awaited him in a few hours, that his death was written into the stars. Yell at him that the gods intend for him to be slaughtered by these beasts as he watched the warriors under his command fall as well. And for a moment you almost did. You almost ran towards him so you could drag him away from the battlefield, no matter how much he fought against you.

But you never got the chance, because a new orc quickly replaced the one you’d dispatched. And before you knew it you were pulled into the fray of battle, survival the only thing in mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

The fight was grueling. Everywhere you looked, orcs seemed to drown out the rest of the soldiers. There wasn’t a moment to breathe, because as soon as one orc was killed four would take its place. Blood and ichor coated your once pristine and glowing armor, the stickiness of it attracting dirt and other substances with textures you didn’t want to think about. It didn’t take long for the orcs to blow up a portion of the wall, allowing them to scamper into the keep like a swarm of rats.

A part of you wanted to cry. To disappear into the keep and hide with the women and children, like a dog with it’s tail tucked between it’s legs. The screams of pain surrounding you dulled your senses as you fought a losing battle. You could differentiate the men of Rohan from the elves of the Lorien; the mentisulusly crafted armor of the elves a beacon of light in a sea of crude iron armor coating the orcs or the poorly fitted chain the Rohan’s donned. It allowed you to easily see when they were being cut down like animals by the Uruk Hai.

Gandalf would come with the dawn, you knew that, but each second ticked by as if it was a century. You wondered if you’d even make it to dawn as the number of soldiers around you dwindled. But as quickly as these thoughts surfaced you banished them, unable to get lost in your mind while war waged around you.

So you fought. You moved through the battle with a vigor you didn’t know you had. Your sword moved in sync with your every movement; parrying each attack that came close to you, gifting the assaulting orcs with your blade. And it was… invigorating; fulfilling something inside you that felt pleasure with each enemy you fell. It should’ve scared you and maybe it would later, but now you could only focus on your blood pumping with adrenaline and the yells around you. Smoke filled your lungs, the flames remnants of the multitude of explosions the orcs caused in order to breach the keep. No longer were you the scared girl you were when the Fellowship found you in the woods. You were a warrior as you moved around the battlefield like it was a dance.

Aragorn’s shouts sounded from behind you, despite speaking hardly any Sindarin, you knew what he was saying, you’d watched the movies too much to not know. A retreat, he was calling for the forces to retreat. This grabbed your attention, your head swinging to look back as you shoved your sword through an orc. A glimpse of silver and red pulled your attention to Haldir, who nodded at Aragorn and started to move back, but continued slicing at any incoming enemies.

That was when you froze, like a sudden winter storm descended upon you and locked your limbs in place. This was it, this was the scene; the moment Haldir died in the movies. But this isn’t a movie, he was going to die in real life, right before your eyes. Dread and panic surged through you as the color immediately drained from your face.

“No. No. No. No!” the words repeat in your mind, each one more desperate than the last.

But you couldn’t move, unable to even bring yourself to blink as you watched the event unfold. The air stung your eyes as they continued to lose moisture and your mouth turned drier than the desert. The grip on your sword slackened, just enough for it to nearly clatter to the dirt if not for your stiff fingers that acted as a hook. Like a war drum, your heartbeat pounded viciously against your chest, commanding your body into action. But nothing happened as your mind fell blank. An orc came behind Haldir, hitting him with a powerful blow, painful enough to cause the elf to stagger. His delicate elven features that never displayed anything other than passiveness mimicked the fear staining your own.

He’s going to die. He’s going to die in front of you just like Boromir did.

And at that moment, it was like the spell that held you broke as the memories of Boromir resurfaced. Phantom tears that you shed for Boromir fell down your face, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You were running, completely disregarding the orcs that were surrounding you. They hit you with their blades and pierced crossbow bolts into your flesh, but you didn’t care. The only thing on your mind in that moment was Haldir, unwilling to let him suffer the same fate as Boromir.

Each footstep pounded into the Earth, leaving splotches of dirt and blood on your boots. Your breathing was heavy, not from exertion but instead the anxiety that bubbled inside of you. You watched as Haldir managed to slay the first orc that struck him, but you knew there would be more. And when the second one brought it’s blade up to strike him you’d managed to reach the steps leading up to the part of the wall he was atop.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, or maybe you didn’t? It was hard to tell with the ringing in your ears that silenced any noise. Taking them two at a time, you rushed up the stairs. And by the time you managed to climb all of them, the orc swung at Haldir, causing the elf’s knees to buckle beneath him from the force of the blow. You screamed again, and this time you were sure the sound escaped your lungs. The timber of the scream closely resembled the wail of a banshee roaring in anger.

The fleeing soldiers around you turned their gazes to you, but continued forward. The hulking orc that attacked Haldir shifted his attention to you, at least you think he did. It was hard to tell in the shroud of night. Haldir fell to the ground, but his eyes latched onto you, watching as you charged an orc more than twice your size. But you weren’t afraid, you didn’t have the time to feel fear.

One, two, three; in mere moments you closed the distance between yourself and the orc; bringing your sword up on your third step. You sliced into him, moving to the left as you avoided what would’ve been a devastating blow. He screamed in your face, the scent worse than rotting flesh on a hot summer day. But instead of hesitating, you steeled your gaze, eyes in slits as you brought your sword up for another swing. This time the blow slashed into the flesh between his shoulders and his arm that held his weapon. It fell limp against his side, a howl of pain leaving his mouth. Like a wild boar, he snorted at you and made a show of his sharpened teeth that jutted in all directions. He tossed the blade to his other hand and charged towards you with a roar.

You stepped to the side but it wasn’t fast enough as his blade clipped your side. With a scream, you staggered forward and pressed your free hand against the wound. The sticky warm liquid slowly drips out of the wound, staining your skin crimson. The wound stings, the cold wind whipping around you only further agitating it. However, you are numb to the majority of the pain. The noise around you dampened, until all you can hear was the faint sounds of swords clanging against each other and your heavy heart beat.

On instinct, your sword slashed against the Uruk Hai’s exposed back before he could move out of the way. In the same fluid motion, you brought your sword up on a backswing. It sliced through his side and up his chest in a diagonal motion.With strength you didn’t normally possess, you pushed your sword deeper into his flesh, shoving the beast away from you. You ripped the sword out his skin, putrid smelly black ooz spewing from the wound. Before he could gather his footing you stalked towards him. Like an animal you barred your teeth, your eyes dancing with a blend of rage and bliss.

In that moment you weren’t human, instead you were an otherworldly creature brutally striking down any enemies. You were like an angel of fire and death as you sliced into his thighs, an attempt to knock him prone. And it worked. The great beast fell to the ground with a loud thud, but still twitched as he attempted to grasp something to defend himself with. And just as his hand found purchase on the blade of a fallen soldier you grasped the hilt of your sword in both hands. In a swift motion, you brought the blade down and into the orcs neck. The flesh made a squelching noise as that same black ooze began pouring from the wound.

Moving with the ferocious wind whipping around you, you moved back towards Haldir, falling to your knees as you gently cradled his head on your lap. With a shaky hand, you raised two fingers to his neck, desperate to feel a pulse. And you nearly cried when you felt the faint thump. He was alive, you managed to save him. But the battle wasn’t over yet, far from it in fact. So instead of breaking down into tears, you stood from the ground and lifted Haldir. You slung his arm over your shoulder as you made your retreat into the keep, longing for the stone walls to encapsulate you until Gandalf would come and save the day.

The gods appeared to have other plans however, as a bolt stuck into your back. A strangled cry escaped your mouth, blood coming out of your mouth. Your legs turned to jelly as you slowly fell to your knees. Another bolt whizzes through the air, this time landing in your shoulder. The world grew hazy as fuzzy figures danced in your vision before everything turned black. Your body hit the ground with a trump, the sound muffled by the dozens of bodies littering the stone floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

The cold was the first thing you noticed. There was a cold breeze lightly caressing your body all over, soothing the burning that had blossomed in your body. And for a second you thought you were dead, you had to have been. After the wounds you’d sustained when trying to retreat with Haldir, there was no way you could’ve survived. Yet somehow this isn’t what you imagined death to feel like. You’d always envisioned it as something less painful and a bit more weightless.

But the hard stone beneath the blanket you’re lying on and the distant pain shooting through your body cancels that out. Voices fill the void surrounding you; some are cries of pain from mourning lost loved ones, while a few cries of relief and joy mingle with the despair. Faintly you can hear the chatter of people, mindlessly talking about anything other than the war that just waged. But none of this alarms you. Instead it’s the elvish words being whispered near your ear, like a distant melody that’s just outside of your reach.

Your eyes snapped open as you abruptly sat up, the blankets thrown over your body pooling around your lower body. The elvish whispers stopped, dissipating into the air as if they were never there.

“I was wondering when you would wake,” a calm voice said. You turned to your left to see Haldir sitting beside you. He’s no longer donned his immaculate armor, instead wore casual clothing, the design more human than elven. It looked itchy and ill fitting him, lacking the usual delicate details that outed something as elvish craftsmanship. His crimson cloak was discarded, probably ruined in the fight.

But he was alive, and that’s all that mattered.

He was pale, more so than usual. He didn’t have that same ethereal glow all the elves from Lothlorien seemed to possess, and if not for the pointed ears that poked through his silver hair, he could be mistaken for a human. Deep set dark circle surrounded his pale blue eyes, his complexion pallid and tired.

But he’s alive. And you can’t help the small smile that formed on your lips.

You’d managed to save him.

“You sustained some serious wounds. For a moment the healers were convinced you wouldn’t pull through.” he continued after a moment of silence passed over you two.

“Well as you can see, it is difficult to kill me,” you told him, not sure of what else to say. He simply hummed in response, the sound causing your heart to beat just a bit faster than before.

“It would seem so. However I’m not sure the same thing could be said about me, if not for your presence on the battlefield tonight.” Haldir said. His eyes never wavered from yours, his gaze like ice clashing with fire. For a moment you saw it; a flicker of fear that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. The fear of death. He was on death’s doorstep, seconds away from dying, a concept so foreign to someone belonging to an immortal race.

“Well, if not for you and the army of elves, I’m sure everyone here would’ve been dead,” you said. His brows furrowed, creating small lines on his forehead and a tiny dip in between his brows. Such a human thing that you’ve never seen on an elf. His eyes flit away from your gaze, but they quickly return. You nearly recoiled from the intensity in them, they burned through you like a roaring fire - so different from their usual icy nature - that would burn you if you got too close. But you couldn’t help but get closer, unafraid of the embers that could lash out at you, scorching whatever it touched.

“I owe you my life, my lady. I will do whatever it takes to repay you for what you have done, even if I have to spend the rest of my immortal life,” he said, the words lacked the usual calm and cool tone of voice you began to associate him with. They were strong and fierce and true, like he believed every word he said.

“I appreciate it, I really do, but out there in the battle, I almost died a few times, and I can guarantee at least one of the people who saved my life was an elf. Consider us even, there is no need to submit yourself to eternal debt.” you said. It was silent, and not the awkward “let the ground swallow me whole silence”, but a nice one; the type of calmness and relief that can only come from surviving an impossible fight.

“Very well.” Haldir broke the silence first, a weak smile forming on his face. It’s fragile and small, clearly the after effects of nearly dying still weighed heavily on him. “You move well for a human.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m assuming that’s supposed to be a compliment.” you said. Instantly his face flushed scarlet red, matching the cloak he wore in battle. His eyes shot to the ground and if you had to guess, you’d assume his heart rate picked up as well.

“I-I uh yes, it was - is. It is a compliment. I only meant to say that you moved through the battlefield as if you were one of the Eldar. I’ve never known a mortal who could dance through battle the way you did, as if you’ve been training for hundreds of years,” He continued watching the ground, almost expecting you to lash out or take offense. Instead you laughed.

It wasn’t the full bellied laugh Gimi often sported, especially after a few tankards of ale, instead it was more akin to a whisper in the wind. But it was pleasant and sweet, a stark contrast to the fear he’d seen in your eyes moments before you fell unconscious.

“Thank you, though I admit, I’m not too good with the bow,” you said. A smile formed on your face, it was sweet and warm and everything was good. Your eyes danced with a whirlwind of emotions, scared you’d ruin the mood that surrounded the two of you.

“Perhaps I will teach you then. A small way to show my gratitude. We can begin training after the defeat of Sauron.”

“I was under the impression the elves would be sailing West?” you asked, wracking your brain to try and remember when the Lorien elves sailed. You remembered Galadriel leaving with Gandalf and Frodo, would Haldir then follow as well? It was difficult to say, since in the movies he never survived past this night.

“They are, however, there is no need for me to leave immediately,” he said. His expression softened, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Then it would be my honor.”

~~~~~~~~~~

TAGS: If at any point, you no longer want to be tagged, just shoot me a message! :D

#haldir x reader #haldir imagines #haldir oneshot #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings oneshot #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lord of the rings #LOTR #helm's deep #lothlorien elves #haldir #Elfy elf imagine

201 notes · View notes

watmels · 2 years

Note

mel!!! hi im rei and a fun fact about me is i like to play guitar sometimes lol ✨ for the artist asks: 12 & 13? :))

Hi Rei!! 😚 NOICE, I have two guitars but haven't learned to play more than three or four chords.. I think one day I may try taking lessons lol

12. Show your favourite drawing from this year

So far, this is my favorite drawing of the year - because of the fun colors and textures and mood!

13. Show your favourite drawing from last year

This is my favorite from last year! It was the beginning of me taking backgrounds seriously.. and yeah, I’m a sucker for pics with a whole team 🥺

artist asks

#artist asks #reineyday #the beach photo is my blog header!

1 note · View note

yankyo · 5 years

Text

Promised Fic

That fic I still don't have a real name for where you peg Beej yay

Warnings : mention of pet play, denial, beej begging, soft domming fun with the bby

----

You loved Halloween movies, every year the tradition was to gather up bags upon bags of candy, make a happy little fort in your living room and just binge the classics until there was just nothing more to watch - and every year more and more spooky movies joined that list. This year, however, instead of adding another movie, you added a companion. Curled up in your lap, happily purring as you ran your fingers through his hair was your beloved demon: Beetlejuice. The past new nights, he had talked through the grisly slashers, giggled through the psychological horrors, and had gorged himself on all of your candy - not a surprise, Beetlejuice simply adored being a little shit and irritating you. What was surprising was the movies he shut up to watch: The Addams Family. Of course, you weren't complaining, they were great, feel good comedies, but not even a giggle was a little strange. You found yourself watching him more than the movie, watching the way he stared at Morticia everytime she was onscreen - honestly, you agreed. Morticia was a babe, and the actress did a phenomenal job, in fact she was part of your bi awakening as a kid - along with Debbie, of course. But every so often, Beej would glance over at you with this thoughtful expression that told you he was mulling something over - which could be anything ranging from, goth gf, or tiddy noice or isn't it interesting how the Addams are treated like they're dumb but they really know that people are trying to take advantage of them and are more amused than anything by the attempt. Beetlejuice was an enigma that way.

But as long as he wasn't saying anything, you weren't pressing, he would speak up in due time. So you simply focused on stroking his hair, there was one spot if you scratched just right, he would go completely limp and purr all the louder - he refused to admit that he purred, something about 'I'm a demon, not a house cat, babes!' but he also wasn't about to admit how he nuzzled into your lap and sent you that expectant look whenever you didn't immediately begin petting him either. As much as anyone could see just how needy your little bug was, his pride was verbal but he still flopped in your lap without even the moments hesitation for more cuddles. Looking down at the happy demon, you couldn't help but lean in and kiss his cheek if just to see his cheeks flush green with happiness. Too cute.

"That's the look of a woman who's gonna be breaking out the strap later." He spoke up, lifting his head slightly to send you a grin as he pointed to the screen. With a soft smile of your own, you tilted your head in mock confusion.

"There's a specific look?" You asked, only for him to practically shoot up with an overenthusiastic

"Yes!!" He fumbled for the remote to pause the movie at just the right moment. "See? The little smirk, the way she looks at him as if to say 'imma fuck your brains out', the way he looks back at her like a dude who just had his brains liquidated out of his skull. That's a dude getting his bussy fucked up." You snorted at the explanation, but he was still going. "You give me the same look before you dom." The blush was back and stronger than ever, the slight pink in his hair telling you just how excited he was really getting.

"So, basically, she reminds you of me?" Flattering, really, and the way Beetlejuice peeked over at you with that look of neediness had you shuffling forwards to take his cheeks in hand. "Is that why you've been quiet all movie? How long have you been thinking about that?" He squirmed in place, refusing to meet your eyes for the moment.

"Since when she was clipping roses." You laughed,

"So since the beginning? Oh, Bj, you know... you shouldn't be torturing yourself like this." You pressed him down into the couch with a hand as you straddled him, "that's my job." Your voice had dropped into a husky purr, a poor imitation of Morticia, but Beetlejuice whimpered all the same.

When Beetlejuice subbed, he was either extremely bratty, or, like today, he was like limp and willing under your touch - eager to please. Either was cute, but his obedience was absolutely endearing. Especially when he was trying to hold back from bucking up into you as you slowly ground your hips into his. Cupping his cheeks, you kissed him until you both were breathless before you pulled back just enough to whisper a single word, 'bedroom'. Before you could even blink, the room snapped away and the two of you fell onto your bed - and your comfortable sweatpants and tank top had been swapped out for a form fitting black bodysuit, the pattern not unlike a spider's web. "Bug? What's this?" You sat back with your hands on your hips - the words almost scolding if not for the amused twist to your lips.

"It looks good on ya, doesn't it?" Not completely obedient then. You sat back on the bed, giving him a look that made him fidget in place before you stood to make your way to the toy box at the far end of the room. "B-babes?" The nervousness in his tone making you automatically give him a reassuring look - bad dom bitch persona aside, you didn't want to make him too anxious. At least, not in a bad way. Once he had relaxed again, his tense expression smoothing out, you snapped your fingers and pointed to the floor.

"Where do bad boys belong?" You asked, your voice stern, he almost fell flat on his face in his eagerness to kneel next to your bed - if you gave permission you knew he would already be at your leg - but you didn't want your puppy just yet. "Now stay." He went ramrod straight and still - if not for the fact that his tongue had lolled out of his mouth as you bent over to rummage through the toy box. You were fairly certain there was new things added, but that wasn't all that strange, you didn't know where he was getting them, but Beetlejuice was constantly bringing home various sex toys that either interested him or just made him giggle. He had used to just show up with them and toss them your way, but after accidentally beaning Delia in the head with a dildo that looked like it belonged to freaking Sauron, you had told him he was to keep such things in the bedroom - and then made him fuck himself on said dildo until he came all over himself. Good times. Of course, Beej loved the bigger toys, the ones that were textured and thick and filling, and being quite the size queen yourself you were more willing to oblige. And watching him come undone on such a dildo was always so entertaining, but not the way his eyes just lit up whenever he saw you pull out the harness was just so much more fun.

"Which one do you think I should use?" You asked, pulling out two different straps - one was small, thin, pink in color and the other was green with black stripes, long, thick and was textured. You didn't really need to ask, you knew which he would pick and weren't all that shocked when he shyly spoke up,

"The green one."

"What's the magic word, baby?"

"Please?" Oh that word was just so pretty on his lips, but you remained silent. It took but a few seconds for Beetlejuice to realize his mistake and hastily correct himself, "please, miss." Better.

"I don't know," you sighed, giving a slight shake of your head, "you've been pretty bad lately, talking during my movies, eating all my snacks and not even cleaning up after yourself. Do you really deserve this?" You asked just to hear that whiny little sound he made whenever you denied him what he wanted.

"I'll be good, miss! I swear! I'll clean up and everything." He was crawling forwards tentatively until he was at your feet. "Please, I want..." he looked wrecked without you even having to lift a finger, his cheeks flushed, his pants strained, his breath coming out sharp and fast. When you reached down to pet his hair he let out a shaky moan and pressed into the contact.

"I think you can ask better than that, Bug, what do you want?" He hesitated and your gentle touch turned hard, your soft fingers digging into his hair to yank his head back and force him to look up at you. "Come on, baby, tell me what you want." Despite the rough touch, your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, yet he hung ok each word.

"I want you to fuck me, Miss." He practically moaned the words, you had no doubt he would cum untouched if you were to pull his hair any harder. "Wreck me, use me, I'm yours." You leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Then why are you still dressed, baby?" The urgency in which Beetlejuice ripped off his clothing was amusing, to say the least. He was more than capable of just snapping his fingers and rid himself of his clothing, but he was so focused on you that the idea probably didn't even cross his mind. Within moments, his already tattered clothing lay in shreds and your eager demon sat squirming before you. "Good boy," you praised, kneeling to give him the attention he deserved, as well as to show him the cock ring you had pulled from the chest. The sight made him shudder and gulp, but he leaned back and set his hands at his sides all the same. He always came far too quickly when you fucked him, so the cock ring was something of a necessity if you really wanted to have some fun with him. And there was no better sight than when he had been denied one too many times and was begging you in tears to please please just let him cum.

He let out a shaky sigh as you stroked his cock, once, twice, one more time just to see the precum beading at the head. His eyes trained on you as you slowly slid the ring over his cock to press it firmly down to its base - he hissed at the pressure, his thighs already shaking. One more reach into the chest and you pulled out a long silk rope, soft gray in color. Automatically, he held his wrists up for you to tie, letting out an excited exhale as you pulled the rope tight against his skin and used it to lead him back towards the bed. As your thighs hit mattress, you took a seat, your demon crawling between your legs to lay his head reverently on your thigh. For a moment, you regarded him quietly, as if trying to figure out just exactly what you wanted to do with him before you raised your leg and placed it on his shoulder. You knew he didn't have to be close to you to smell your arousal, but he took in a deep breath all the same, his pupils narrowing into slits at the smell of you. It didn't take long for him to start to squirm, drool already dripping from his chin as he tried just so hard to hold himself back. Control had always been something of a problem for him, but he had come quite a long way from where he was. Now, even as he twitched and gave you those longing puppy dog eyes, he waited until you gave a slight nod of your head to lunge forwards and nuzzle against your clothed core. His teeth grazed your inner thigh gently, soft nips quickly followed by his tongue as he tried nosing aside the fabric blocking him from you. After a moment, you took pity on him and peeled away the tight fabric yourself and no sooner was your pussy revealed to him did he rush forwards to taste you.

Beetlejuice always said that eating you out was his favorite pastime, and really, actions spoke louder than words with just how much enthusiasm he put into the task. At first, the wet sounds of him slurping up every single trace of your arousal his tongue could reach had been embarrassing - but after so many months of dating and the many, many, times he had his head between your legs, the embarrassment was long gone and your immediate reaction was to lace a hand in his hair and rock up into his eager mouth. His tongue slithered it's way inside of you, full and quickly swelling up as his teeth ever so gently scraped your clit, your thighs trembling as his tongue wriggled against your g-spot insistently. Sometimes, Beetlejuice was something of a tease, pushing you closer and closer before pulling away mere milliseconds before you could actually cum. This, unfortunately, was one of those times as the smug little bastard yanked back to grin at you, his face all slick with your arousal. Unamused, you scowled back at him, making trembling limbs pick yourself back up to stalk over to the forgotten harness.

"Up on the bed." Of course he followed that order without playing around, crawling up onto his hands and knees, raising his cute little butt up in the air for you. You took your sweet time in stepping into the harness and attaching the strap, pausing for a moment to pick up a bottle of lubes before you meandered your way back over to the bed and your waiting boyfriend. You ran a hand up his back, pressing forwards to maneuver him into just the right position for you before you noticed something. "Babycakes, when did you put this in?" You pressed on the plug currently stretching your boyfriend out and he mumbled into the pillow. You didn't even have to look up at him to know that he was blushing - or to know that it had probably been there since the moment he started thinking of you taking charge for the night. Impatient as he was, he never did want to waste much time in prepping when you could be plowing him instead. Which was ironic seeing as he would, could, and has spent hours eating you out and fingering you. But, of course, after being denied yourself, you weren't about to just give him what he wanted! Oh no! There was a lesson to be learned here!

His whine echoed through the room as you slowly tugged on the plug before pressing back into him, his cock bouncing as you fucked him with the plug.

"Babe, please!" He cried out, even as he automatically pressed back as you nudged the plug forwards. Of course, you knew it just wasn't enough.

"I have to make sure you're ready, sweetie! I don't want to risk hurting you, right?" Pain really never was a worry with Beetlejuice, sure, certain things could hurt him, but he always healed far too quickly for it to even matter. But proper etiquette called for prep and who were you to ignore etiquette. In, out, in, out, in, in, swift pull out, Beetlejuice's whimpers and pleas fell on deaf ears you played with him, the sounds growing sharper as you reached underneath him to slowly stroke his cock. It didn't take long for him to be absolutely shaking, his cries getting desperate as you just barely missed his prostate with each push inwards. "Oh baby, what's wrong?" You asked, your voice soft and sweet. "Is it not enough? I mean, you chose it! Surely you must like this plug, right?"

"No! Want you! Please!" He was almost sobbing now as he pushed back in vain. You took pity on him this time and actually pulled the plug out of him this time to set aside.

"Its ok baby, I've got you." You crooned as you rubbed his tense back. "I won't tease you anymore." With one hand you grabbed onto his hip while with the other you grabbed the base of the strap-on and once you had applied an adequate amount of lube, you began pressing into him. His babbled words of thanks were sharp and high pitched, your hand on his hip possibly the only thing stopping him from just shoving back to sheathe the whole thing. Soon enough, your hips lay flush to his, your body curved over his so you could take the end of the rope to tie his hand to the headboard. "How we feeling babe? Green?" You asked, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his back.

"Beyond green, fluorescent green, neon, fuck me already, -" before he could say more, you pulled out slowly before swiftly slamming back into him, making him choke on whatever words he still had left. After that, there was simply no mercy given, you kept a hand on his hip while reaching up to lace a hand in his hair to yank his head back so you could sink your teeth into his neck. There were days you felt bad for your neighbors, after all, Beej and you weren't the quietest of lovers and they surely heard everything - this was not one of those days. No, you were way too invested in the indulgent, appreciative moans you were pulling from your boyfriend as you fucked him.

"Look at you, drooling already." You purred, pressing your fingers into his open mouth, "so wrecked already and I've barely even started." You breezed your wet fingers down his chest til you just barely brushed the tips of your fingers along the length of his cock. The headboard creaked as Beetlejuice pulled on the ropes, already begging for you to touch him more, please, please, please, touch him! And really, how could you deny him? Wrapping your hand around his dick, you jacked him off in time with your slamming hips and his cries only grew louder.

"I wanna cum! Please, fuck, let me cum!" You toyed with the cock ring, twisting it this way and that before you let out a soft tsk and kissed his cheek.

"Not yet baby, patience." Not like this, at least! You pulled back, ignoring his sharp whines as you pulled out to guide him onto his back for you. "Relax, baby," with him laying down, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his hands bound above his head - you just needed to take a picture! So, you hopped up off of the bed to swipe up your phone and took a few quick shots of your boyfriend. There was just one thing missing in this shot... and the whimpers your boyfriend was letting out while sending you abandoned puppy eyes did tug at the heartstrings. Alright, you had teased him long enough - not really, but you couldn't help but be weak to him.

As you settled on the bed, he pulled you in closer with his legs, and you just had to lean in and kiss your squirmy demon before you took your strap in hand once more to guide it back into him. This time, you didn't tease, you didn't hold back, with sharp strokes as deep into him as you could manage, you pulled the cock ring off of him and began stroking his cock. The cry he let out echoed throughout the apartment, his back arching up so high you would've wondered if he was going to pull something if he weren't already - you know, dead. As worked up as he had been all night, the stimulation proved too much for him to last and soon enough he was moaning garbled praise and pleas once more. "Its ok, Bug, you can cum."

"Thank you! Fuck! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" His moans grew higher and higher until he cut off with a choked gasp and came. Hard. The slightly fluorescent cum reached up to his chin and yet cum still dribbled past your fingers and onto his stomach as you worked him through the orgasm, praising him all the while. Now, you took another picture of him, cum splattered on his chest, his eyes dazed, his expression damn near ascended. Perfect. While he was still coming down, you untied his hands and stroked his hair,

"How we feeling, Bug?"

"Like you fucked the life back into me." You both giggled softly as he reached up to kiss you. "Give me five minutes and I'll return the favor..." he grinned, his thumb stroking softly across your cheek. "Cara mia." You snorted softly, but placed your hand on top of his and sent him a warm smile in return.

"Don't be gentle, mon cher."

#beetlejuice smut #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice #beetlejuice x reader

117 notes · View notes

sasorikigai · 4 years

Text

Evidence of passed rain is sheer to rest both behind the window glass and upon the texture of brown leather, heavy yet non-reaching of recently covered visage and locks as he’s cautious to close the front door. One arm gripping the ivory helmet and other kept close to his chest, he doesn’t seem to be much eager to reveal what caused the oddity of hold despite the absent, clear signs of possible damage. “Sigh… You gonna kill me, Hasashi, but —” Soft noice interrupting his speech, another sigh is released before he would reveal the source of the sound, unzipping the jacket just enough for the fuzzy petite head to peek out - yet to dry fur, Ryou doesn’t need to say anything else as he looks at his husband in silent anticipation, shifting his sight down at the kitten when they’re soon to release another quiet meow. ( y e e t )

Random Inbox Shenanigans || @sonxflight || accepting

💥 || His off day has been quintessentially quiet, spent mostly wrapped in a wafting scent of strong coffee and softly sizzling bacon with some toast in the morning, invigorated by the sun tapping on the window with one brightly finger, finishing the penultimate series of the crime novel he had been burying his attention for the past month or so, lounging and lifting some weights before going out on the long-distance run, until his sprinting was abruptly cut short by the pitter-patter of the gentle rain, soon to turn into the deluge waterfall as the world drowned in the battering torrents absent the setting sun. By the time the howling thunderstorm was mellowing to barely a drizzle around 6pm, the day was long gone and dark. The last book of the series hadn’t arrived from his Amazon Prime, so the restless Commander of the law would spend the majority of his evening constructing the possibilities for the appropriate ending.

Deciding to start off a simple supper of Japanese-style omelette with some salmon steak leftover from the night before, Hanzo begins to break off some eggs, then adding scallions and shredded carrots for color, before adding some milk to beat the eggs and mix the content altogether. By the time he could smell Ryou’s scent, along with the heavy moisture of rain and petrichor, the omelette is already plated, along with the reheated salmon. “It better be a fucking good one, or else -” a twitch of lips, not quite figuratively ready to kill his husband, but awaiting patiently until the foreshadowed surprise reveals itself. A Japanese bobtail peeks its head, gracefully lands onto the hard flooring and encircles one of Hanzo’s legs. The purring sensation sending a peculiar, strange feeling to his gut.

“This is your surprise?” A visible smirk sends one of his cheeks to plump, as the feline follows him suit. It must be his smell, the earthy dampness still clinging onto him from the run, since he hadn’t dried himself just yet - he’s only in his boxer-briefs and loose-fitting joggers, with his grown undercut, needing of a trim still dripping water. “I don’t know what this fella eats for food, but I expect he likes fish?” He breaks off a portion from his own plate and puts it on the ends of his fingers, as he crouches before the cat, which seems eager and content enough to focus on the food, as he less savors, but devours it. “We need to figure out if this is a homeless one, or someone lost it.” 💥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au)#(I suppose he's surprisingly in a good mood)#sonxflight #submission

1 note · View note

thebadguyalways-blog · 6 years

Text

Bonnie & Clyde || Tom Riddle x Reader ♧part one♧

I've 'known' him for 5 years. Observed the way his ebony hair is the same color as the peddles along the black lake when it just rained. The way his black irises danced in his eyes, observing everything in the atmosphere while pretending to listen to a 'friend' telling him a story. How I'll never be able to understand how his figure could appear and disappear in seconds into one of the dark corridors if you blink your eyes or don't pay attention. Tom Riddle was a mysterious guy, a handsome guy, charismatic, charming, smooth, ambitious, respectable, unique but above all that, Tom Marvolo Riddle was a dangerous guy.

If I told people all of my observations on the boy they would think I had some kind of attraction towards him. But that wasn't the case. I have observed almost everyone in Hogwards ever since I got here. It's my way of settleing. I observe their characters to know who I should associate myself with. I transfered from Ilvermorny in my second year since the ministry thought I would 'fit in' in one of the hogwards houses better than in Wampus. But in reality I know some rich snob payed off the school to get his rich snob kid in there and since I don't have parents and the places in Ilvermorny were all filled guess who got send away to a new school.. you guessed it.

As I walked away from the Slytherin common room at 12.37pm wearing nothing on my feet but my socks because shoes make too much noice I made my way to the library. I took my pet with me because I can't really leaver her alone because people would find her and since she isn't one of the animals we're supposed to have I would get in a hell of a lot more trouble than sneaking into the library. And plus the fact that they would find out I could speak to her.

I looked around as I took in the paterns on the walls of the dark restricted area of the library with my fingertips. I have always had nyctophilia ever since I was a baby. There was just something about the darkness that seemed so extremely relaxing to me. My fingers skimmed over the textures of all the books I'm forbidden to read. Taking out a book about dark magic that I've read 3 times already. I knew it was the right book even in the dark due to the fact that the spine felt so familiar to me. Taking out my wand and casting lumos minima revealing it was indeed the book about dark magic. I sighed and traced the cover with my thumb. I pointed my wand at the book shelf I got the book from and saw a book on ancient voodoo rituals I've never noticed before, I've in fact never seen anything on voodoo in the Hogwards library.

From what I heard my father practiced this dark art and my mother was a witch which tegnically made me a pureblood since both of my parents did magic but in all my files I am described as a half-blood because my father was born without being able to use magic, Bullshit if you ask me.

I took the book out from in between 'muggle fairytails' and 'history of the unforgivable curses' and took a look at the cover. It had a small keychain like object dangling from the top of the spine. It was a small doll made of string and hay. I looked at the two books and contemplated if I should take them or not. I had never stolen from the library before.

'Who's there?' I heard a voice demand that I could trace back to my prefect: Tom Riddle.

I quickly put the light of my wand out and in a split second made the decision to steal the books and bring them back in a few days. I ran towards the area of the library that wasn't restricted because I knew Riddle would catch me anyways if I ran from the restricted area out of the library. While hiding in between book shelves I quickly put the two books in my bag and acted like I was looking for something on the potions shelf.

I heard footsteps near me and looked in the direction of the sound after it stopped.

"What are you doing here (L/N)?' The handsome boy asked me in curiousity and a little bit of annoyance.

I shrugged.

"Just needed some help on potions, I'm failing the class." I lied.

He crossed his arms.

"At 1 in the morning?" He asked with a little bit of amusement in his tone.

I nodded.

He snorted.

He pointed at the shelf I was standing in front of. "Those are books on battle spells." He said.

I looked again and found myself actually standing in front of rows of books about jinxs' instead of potions.

"Second of all you have the second highest grade in our class for potions" he stated.

How did he know that. Maybe he's even more observant than I thought. Maybe almost as much as I am.

"So what are you doing here?"

Great, now what am I supposed to tell him? Then I heard the strings of my bag slide open. I closed my eyes. "Great, just fucking great." I mumbled under my breath. I opened my eyes to see Riddle with his eyebrows raised and a somewhat surprised expression on his face.

I felt Nagini slither past my legs towards him. She normally doesn't act like this. Nagini isn't one to approach people unless I tell her to.

Riddle shifted his gaze towards me and raised a eyebrow as if telling me to explain myself. Nagini had already made her way around Toms neck. She hissed something in his ear which made him grin. Probably because it tickled him.

I sighed. "Don't tell anyone." I said.

He smirked. "And why wouldn't I?" He asked me with a mocking tone.

I sighed in annoyance. Then I noticed something. "You like snakes don't you, Riddle?" I asked.

Riddle looked puzzled at my observation. "What?" He asked.

"You like snakes." I stated. "And you can speak to them." I added.

His mouth was slighty open as he tried to find some lie he could try to make me believe.

I laughed. "So Tommy boy is parseltongue."

He narrowed his eyes. And was about to say something.

"Don't worry, I won't tell if you won't tell." I said.

He sighed in annoyance. "Why do you have a snake anyway?" He asked. I shrugged. "When I found her she looked lost. It seemed like she didn't have a home so I 'adopted' her."

He smirked. "Well aren't you just the big animal lover." he said.

I grinned. "The more you know about me."

He reached up his hand to pet Naginis head.

"What is her name?" He asked.

"Nagini."

He raised his eyebrows. "How did you come op with that?" He asked.

"I didn't." I said. "She told me."

He looked at me a confused and a half shocked expression took over his face. "So you're als-"

"Yeah" I said before he could finish his sentence.

He smirked for a split second before it dissapeared and his soulless expression was back.

He used both hands to lift Nagini off of his shoulders. He stepped closer, reached out to me and hung her around my neck.

"Go back to your dorm" He said.

I sighed. "Fine."

I went past him and started walking towards the exit.

"Oh and by the way." He said. "Ssaah-ayaeeh-seyythaa tsseyaa ehhh-ayaeeh aayaa-seyythaa-tsseyaa-ayaeeh-tsseyaa-seethaaa-haa-tsseyaahaa-hasseey-ssse-haahaa-ehhh-haa-aayaa-seyythaa" he hissed in Parseltongue.

My face turned a little paler.

"I won't" I said and walked out of the library.

Thinking back to his words. 'Don't go into that area again.'

He knew.

I pet Nagini as I reached the comon room.

"Émeraude" I muttered the password.

I sighed as I walked into my dorm.

I put Nagini in her cage and put the cage underneath my bed. I fel back onto my bed and sighed.

It's gonna be one long year.

#tomriddle #harry potter #parseltongue #xreader #fanfic #nagini

9 notes · View notes

123-456-789-1011-12 · 7 years

Photo

Requests are OPEN

Will Draw:

- OCS

- Two Characters

- Light Background/ Texture

Will not draw:

- NSFW

- Gore

- Furries

- Complex Design

- Mecha

Thx 4 200+ followers, yo! Y’all so noice!

Here be some tipz.

1. Reblog to Verify that you’ve seen this

2. Send ref via Submissions or Messaging

3. Don’t ask for too much, I won’t get to em all if there be too much

4. I will either do traditional or digital, traditional will not have color. ( If I don’t have computer access, I will do traditional)

5. Tag others who might be interested.

I don’t have perfect memory, so if I don’t get 2 urs, plz either remind me or not kill me!

57 notes · View notes

pruebopruebapruebe · 4 years

Text

30 days of autism acceptance 2020 part 3

Day 11. Talk about sensory issues. Do you also have sensory processing disorder? What kind of clothes do you wear? What foods do you eat? Are you sensitive to light or sounds? How do you deal with overstimulation?

Sensory “so THAT’S what’s been happening all this time“ issues, what can I say? I’m still discovering them. I always knew my nose and ears were better than the average, but I didn’t knew, for example, why at the end of a day my eyes hurt with lights, or that other people could focus in only one conversation, and stuff like that. Tbh I have a lot to say about this but I lack the language in english so I’ll just say that knowing about sensory issues linked a lot of “unrelated health and body issues“ and allow me to start identifying my negative relation with some inputs and therefore to work this issues and control my own reception of these inputs (voices, noices, music, etc.)

I have to keep analysing my own experience around stimulus but I think I do, indeed, have sensory processing disorder. I know sound is quite playful with me and likes to be very loud sometimes with no previous warn and that some fabrics hurt me.

I like soft clothes, usually in one color. If I buy them, I buy two or three of the same with different colors.

I try to eat all types of food and can stand even the ones I don’t like unless the reason I don’t like them is texture.

I’m sensitive for both light and sound.

When I’m overstimulating and I’m aware of that I try to block inputs, specially sound, and have a time alone, doing something mechanic.

Day 12. Talk about ableism. Have you experienced discrimination? Have you been the target of hate speech or slurs? Have you been a victim of abuse or violence? What’s the rudest thing someone has said to you about autism or you being autistic?

I hate everyone. Die.

Yes.

No. I mean, not for being autistic.

Yes but the motherfucker didn’t know I was autistic so...

That what I feel is not empathy.

Day 13. Talk about something funny. Has anything humorous or ironic ever happened to you because you were autistic?

Yeah but that’s kind of like my life so (the usual “understanding first things literally and then getting the real meaning and having funny mental pics because of that”)...

Mmm...

No, sorry, I’ll pass. I can’t remember.

Day 14. Talk about role models. Who are your role models? How have they influenced you?

My Mother Nº2 and I think that’s it. I grow up without role models [unless you count fictional characters].

She influenced me by being a neutorypical cool and healthy role model.

Day 15. Talk about identity. How do you identify? Autistic? Asperger’s? Person with Autism? What’s your take on person/identity first language?

I identify wth autism more than anything else. It’s the last patch I needed, the answer aroud everything else revolved.

I prefer to refer to my self as an autistic or asperger person, but it depends on the format. In verbal conversation, in spanish, I talk about asperger [that way I also dodge a lot of bullshit too], but in my mind and in writting I use autistic. I sometimes use aspie because is cute, but somehow I don’t want to support the obsolete idea of Asperger and Autism as separate things, so while I know that my family has used asperger for like... three generations, I don’t feel so confident using that... even if asperger is a nicer word... but then again... nazi...

Anyway if I’m certain of something is that I prefer identity first language because this is what I am, not something that I have.

#30daysofautismacceptance #autism #texto

0 notes

orendarecords · 6 years

Text

David Dominique's "Mask" is a Surrealist Cross-Genre Expression of Angst & Catharsis

Sometimes a mask is as revealing as what lies beneath.

Written over eight years, Mask, the new Orenda Records release from composer, bandleader and brass player David Dominique, bounds between styles, strategies, attitudes and textures. Somehow, the project furthers the language Dominique developed on his enthralling 2013 album, Ritual, while offering a perpetual sense of surprise.

Mask’s aesthetic is one of upheaval, and rightfully so. During the period in which he composed this music, Dominique, a Ph.D. with a thriving academic career, moved across the U.S. three times. He also endured tremendous loss, with his Afro-Caribbean father and Jewish grandmother and uncle passing away within a span of 18 months. A cycle of grief followed, during which Dominique grasped at the fractured pieces of his personal and family history, in hopes of reassembling them into a cohesive identity.

That’s the process in play throughout Mask: an artist in the midst of profound, sometimes painful change, inhabiting and discarding one stylistic or cultural veil after another. The music feels like a surrealistic, stream-of-consciousness dreamscape where any part of Dominique’s imagination or memory can suddenly emerge in full color, without warning or musical transition. While often rollicking and joyous on the surface, these sonic collages are the composer’s attempt to heal his inner strife—a continuing catharsis rooted not only in the feeling of loss but in Dominique’s lifelong effort to communicate through multiple heritages.

In the end, however, Mask’s seemingly incompatible parts are embraced and normalized into a fluid listening experience that remains compelling even when the music’s backstory goes untold. A multi-hyphenate artist with wide-ranging tastes and curiosities, Dominique’s inside-outside take on the avant-garde is as entertaining as it is cerebral, with points of entry for those coming from jazz, the rock underground or the contemporary classical scene.

The brilliantly raucous small-group music of Charles Mingus with Eric Dolphy might be a good touchstone - Dominique names Mingus at Antibes as an all-time favorite - but there’s so much more in the mix, built up and then refracted in cubist fashion. “Licks and rhythms are reimagined and warped from multiple perspectives, techniques I’ve learned from Stravinsky - especially the ballet Petrushka,” Dominique writes. “In many of these cases, a particular lick or groove is repeated obsessively, in the mode of American minimalists like Steve Reich - in my case representing fixation on a particular thought and the return to that thought again and again.” He has immersed himself in the art of two renowned Austrian composers, and throughout Mask you can hear the sharp experimentalism of Beat Furrer as well as the electronic and avant-rock leanings of Bernhard Lang.

Joining Dominique is a powerful cast of collaborators up to the tasks set by his visionary music. Shaping potent, direct sound and performances as the album’s producer is jazz trumpet great Nolan Shaheed, a former lead player for the Count Basie Orchestra who’s also shared stages and studios with Miles Davis, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Freddie Hubbard, Jimmy Smith, Phil Collins, David Byrne, Tom Waits and others. Dominique’s cohorts include some of Los Angeles’ brightest rising musicians, all of them sharing his love for composing and his stylistic wanderlust. In addition to Dominique on his trademark flugabone, a compressed valve trombone most often used in marching bands, Mask features Brian Walsh (tenor saxophone, clarinets, co-producer); Joe Santa Maria (alto saxophone, flute); Sam Robles (alto and baritone saxophones); Lauren Baba (viola); Alexander Noice (guitar and electronics); Michael Alvidrez (basses); and Andrew Lessman (drums and drumKAT). Their credits cover a vast range of forward-looking artists, including Eugene Chadbourne, Vampire Weekend, Solange, Niia, Vinny Golia and Wadada Leo Smith.

Raised in New York City and Long Island, Dominique lived on and off in Los Angeles for a decade, and his time in daring L.A. ensembles like Killsonic proved a robust influence on his current music. He is now based in Richmond, Virginia, and works as a professor of music composition and theory at the College of William & Mary, in Williamsburg. In 2013 he conducted his score for Starcrosser’s Cut, Joseph Tepperman’s innovative theatre piece about the disgraced astronaut Lisa Nowak. “The musical composition by David Dominique never merely backs or underscores the action,” the Hollywood Reporter said, “but instead comprises an integral component of the overall expression.” Dominique garnered equally effusive praise for his Ritual album, a striking showcase for his ingenious blend of divergent sounds, evoking everything from Mingus and Ellington to Ligeti and Furrer and on to Blonde Redhead and Flying Lotus. “A maximalist inspired by minimalists, composer David Dominique practices a rowdy, muscular brand of modernism. Picture Charles Mingus staging a hostile takeover of the Sun Ra Arkestra with arrangements by Sonic Youth,” DownBeat said. “Dominique’s band teeters on the fulcrum where discipline crumbles into anarchy.”

Dominique will tour with an octet in support of Mask this fall, hitting Brooklyn, Washington, D.C., Baltimore, the Philadelphia area and three cities in Virginia: Richmond, Charlottesville and Williamsburg. He will direct the ensemble and play flugabone, and the band will feature cornetist Victor Haskins, the director of the Kennedy Center’s Jazz Outreach Program, and Ian McColm, acclaimed DC-based drummer and composer. Dominique will be available for pre-show lectures and discussions, as well as workshops and masterclasses.

TOUR DATES:

11/9: Williamsburg, VA, College of William & Mary, Ewell Hall 11/10: Richmond, VA, Little Dumbo 11/11: Charlottesville, VA, Charlottesville Jazz Society 11/13: Westchester University (outside Philadelphia) 11/15: New York, NY, Nublu Classic 11/16: Baltimore, MD, Joe Squared 11/17: Washington DC, Rhizome

0 notes