#this guy's name is urban decay :)

[verifiablebot]

in my five days in reeeeno, what did i buy for me?

four identical rabbits (and a himi thrown in for freeeeee)

#my pets #rabbits #blanc de hotot #this guy's name is urban decay :)

[shcherbatskya]

sometimes when you like the work someone is creating you have to get over the fact they are weird about that specific guy . well. the personification of urban decay that is also named sweeney

#posts that are about many people many such cases many such poets #samael speaks

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched and books I read this Week #141 (Year 3/Week 37):

Continuing through Aki Kaurismäki’s early work:

🍿 While waiting for his new film "Fallen Leaves", I found a copy of his second feature, the absurdist Calamari Union (1985). 15 desperate guys (all named Frank), and another called Pekka (who speaks in a fake Finnish-English accent) undergo a random series of senseless misadventures, as they try to flee from one seedy suburb of downtown Helsinki to the mystical seaside of Eira. Weirdly surrealist.

🍿 Rocky VI, an early (1986) black & white short, a parody of Stallone franchise. A puny little guy fights the much bigger “Igor” (A giant with Brezhnev eyebrows) and loses.

🍿

Letter from an Unknown Woman, my first romantic tear-jerker by Max Ophüls. 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes’, and co-produced by venerable John Housman. The allure of turn of the century Vienna. Beautiful Joan Fountain looking very much like young July Greer.

🍿

My first 3 Croatian films by new female director Antoneta Alamat Kusijanović [2 with Danish-Serbian actress Danica Curcic, and 2 with the beautiful Gracija Filipovic]:

🍿 Stane, a brand new 20-min. elusive story about a strong-willed woman, who was just elevated to lead her immigrant father’s thriving construction empire, while at the same time discovering her husband’s infidelity. Unspoken emotions and toxic dynamics explored. This is part of ‘Women’s Tales’, an anthology of 26 shorts commissioned by fashion brand Miu Miu, which I’m going to start devouring. 9/10.

🍿 “Dreams die in paradise”…

Her debut feature film, Murina ("Moray eel"), was exec-produced by Martin Scorsese, and won the Caméra d'Or at the 2021 Cannes Festival. Powerful, feminist story of a strong-willed 17 year old fisherman daughter, who rebels against the primitive patriarchy on the beautiful Adriatic island where she live. Her father especially is an abusive, controlling prick, trying to keep his growing mermaid daughter in her place. It evokes other sensual Mediterranean dramas full of salt water and sun, like ’The lost daughter' and 'A bigger Splash'. Mature and sensitive. 9/10.

🍿 Into the blue (2017) is her previous draft for 'Murina', a similar story about a 13 year old diver, also named Julija, played by the same actress, in the same locations, and with the same sensibilities and mature 'feel'. A story about friendship and jealousy between two girls.

🍿

Josep, a different type animated feature, more like an animated painting, by the French cartoonist Aurel [How many other directors use only one name, beside Tarsem?]. It's an artistic biography of the little-known Catalan artist Josep Bartoli, detailing his experience at a French concentration camp during the last war. In 1939, the Spanish refugees persecuted by Franco, sought asylum in France, but instead were interned in concentration camps. This was a chapter from history I was not familiar with. 8/10.

🍿

4 more re-watches:

🍿 Another go at Ron Flicke’s non-narrative Baraka ("Blessing", 1992). I introduced it to my mom, who enjoyed the first half, as it embraced the Yin of the world's vast beauty and spirituality, but as soon as it started turning toward the Yang of destruction and decay, she had to bail. But the people who pray for peace, and the people who kiss the holy stones, are the same people who burn the trees, and who slaughter all the chickens.

🍿 “Welcome to the future, bruh…”

Nightcrawler, another tense re-watch of Dan Gilroy’s brilliant debut feature. Villainous thief Jake Gyllenhaal is the ultimate urban amoral creep. This is surely how Musk would have started, if he was born on the other side of the tracks. Gilroy specifically wrote the role of Nina for his wife Rene Russo. Also, with 'Mad Men's Ted Chaough. Now I'm glad that I never got to watch television.

🍿 “…It’s called an anus…”

After reading the excellent 'Los Angeles Review of Books' article about The big chill which had premiered 40 years ago, I took another dip. Still a terrific ensemble piece, with Peak William Hurt and Meg Tilly. 9/10.

🍿 “I think loneliness probably kills more people than cancer…”

The masterful A simple favor once again: This is becoming nearly a bi-weekly event for me, it seems. I simply cannot get enough of this wonderful 'Suburban Noir'. Everything I said last month still stands: The script and dialogue are so crisp, the sound design is fantastic. The story is perfect. Shoutouts this time to the lesbian undertones with Blake Lively, to Rupert Friend's Dennis Nylon, to the Visual Style'... 10/10/10.

Bonuses: The soundtrack [not great by itself] Some bloopers and B-rolls. I'm so not looking forward to ‘Simple Favor 2’!

🍿

Life of crime, another black comedy caper, based on an Elmore Leonard novel. His hapless small-time hoods Ordell Robbie and Louis Gara try another doomed kidnapping scheme in Detroit. The 1978 Detroit ambiance is beautifully recreated. Unfortunately, the two bumbling con men are nowhere close in charisma and presence to Samuel L. Jackson in Jackie Brown or Travolta's Chili Palmer. Tim Robbins is the baddie. 3/10.

🍿

5 more shorts:

🍿 Ten minutes older, a 1978 short by Latvian documentarian Herz Frank, which consists of sublime ten minutes of reaction shots of children watching a puppet show. It must have been inspired by Alfred Eisenstaedt's famous Parisian series from 1963. (Photos Above).

🍿 A documentary about the making of John Frankenheimer 1966 horror / science fiction film Seconds, starring Rock Hudson.

🍿 Fantasmagorie, a 1908 French animated film by Émile Cohl, considered by film historians to be the first animated, using what came to be known as traditional animation methods.

🍿 Reservoir Dogs, 1992: A 12-minute Tarantino short, made with the help of the Sundance Film institute and served as a proof of concept for the feature film.

From a Deadline list of ‘Films that began as shorts’

🍿 Carl’s Date, the latest "Pixar" pre-movie short, riffing on Carl Fredricksen from 'Up'. Disney squeezes the juice out of anything with a heart, and jerks it off into a used sock under the bed. 2/10.

🍿

Unfit, The psychology of Donald Trump, with Malcolm Nance, Ruth Ben-Ghiat, and a bunch of heave-duty psychiatrists. A sharp documentary, showing beyond any reasonable doubt that the orange malignant narcissist suffers from the same incurable mental illness, his idols Hitler & Mussolini did. It should have scared the world, when he still was in charge. Sadly, it's from 2020, and so much had transpired since. But hell, fuck this guy once and for all. 8/10.

🍿

The Tel Aviv to Tel Katzir Shuttle (מאסף תל אביב־תל קציר), by Moshe Shargal (2000): A lovely memoir of life at a simpler time, time I nearly remember, Israel of the late 1950's, when young people could still dream about endless horizons, unblemished landscapes and hopeful futures. It opens with a poem by Pinhas Sadeh, הליכה בשדות מרמת רחל לצור בח'ר

האושר הוא ללכת בזוהר השמש השוקעת של סוף הקיץ

כאילו הולך אתה בשדה בעמק יזרעאל, ואתה כבן 16

וכאילו כל החיים, כל החיים, עדיין

האהבות, הכאבים, המתיקות

אי אפשר לתאר את השלווה הזאת

השמיים, הרוח, האדמה החומה

רק אלוהים יודע

ממערב משתפל ויורד חורש ירוק

אורנים וברושים נעים לאט

ואתה הולך לבדך בעולם בשדה בשמש השוקעת של סוף הקיץ

איש בסתיו חייו

ובוכה

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

[drewtanakagf]

okay since we decided on diver Percy here is the swimmer excerpt:

She turns her attention back to the pool, where the heat before Percy’s is finishing up. Drew knows next to nothing about swimming, but something about 100 meters and laps and look, the guys on TV looked really hot cutting through the water– 

“Look! There he is!” Sally points out her son on the poolside, the only one with a wetsuit on. Drew winces, scars like Percy’s maybe a bit difficult to hide in the usual shorts-no shirt combo. Of course, some still litter his arms, but it raises less questions. Not like Drew should know about the memories that litter her new… friend? Yeah, friend’s skin. She was still an Aphrodite camper after all; her siblings might stay by the lakeside for their own reasons (to fawn over hot guys) but Drew’s pretending act is like a second skin, even so, she can still appreciate what kind of work went into keeping that physique.

Oh, they’re calling the swimmers for Percy’s heat.

Sometime between Drew pulling out her select eyeliner (Urban Decay 24/7 Glide-on Waterproof Eyeliner Pencil in the shade Chaos, if you must know) and finishing her symmetric wings, Percy… briefed, for lack of a better term, Drew on what races he would be competing in. Drew caught only a bit of it, mostly focused on making sure she didn’t fuck up the careful swoops of eyeliner she was applying to her eyelids. Something about how “Jeremey is anchoring for the first time” and “Mom, the day I lose a 100m butterfly is the day I drown.” Which  is stupid since Percy can’t drown and oh– yeah, figure of speech. 

Drew watches Percy as he steps onto the block with the other competitors. He tightens his goggles, which look horrible in Drew’s fashionable opinion and why do people always say sacrifice beauty over functionality, that opinion is pure bullshit Drew’s karambit is perfectly functioning but also the prettiest weapon she’s ever laid an eye on. 

A gun sounds off, Drew blinks and misses Percy’s entrance into the water. Sally’s cheering loudly beside her and okay, yeah, this is not even a competition.

Drew has seen Percy swim before, courtesy of many years at camp, and he was always graceful in the water, like he belonged in it (which he was, but that’s beside the point) and other campers called him a fish affectionately. 

Well, Percy was a fucking fish in the water, besting the others in the pool by a mile. 

That answers Drew’s question, that’s not fucking fair at all. 

Drew has to stifle a laugh at how ridiculous his win was. It was watching an olympian (the athlete) compete with ten year olds, worse even. She’s surprised he didn’t get kicked out of the league for being too good. 

Goode. Percy’s name never had his highschool attached to it, and he never mentioned anything about the school. And hey, his teammates looked a bit older than him… 

That’s when Drew learns that Percy has been swimming for NYU all this time. 

#nyu was the first thing that popped into my head but college swimming works differently than what i described #i learned too much about swim meets and used none of that information #clopt #✍🏾 time #will i ever shut up about scars and memories? no #drew tanaka #percy jackson

[anewthirst]

Considered one of South Africa’s leading photographers, Guy Tillim focuses his lens on Africa’s social and political terrain, capturing child soldiers in the Congo, refugees in Angola, and urban life in Johannesburg. Tillim explores not only places of crisis in Africa, but also captures quieter scenes—in post offices, schools, and hotels. His carefully composed images counter the drama usually found in photojournalism, expressing instead the complex realities and perceptions of Africa. In his series “Avenue Patrice Lumumba” (2007–08), Tillim documented the many streets in Africa named after Patrice Lumumba, one of the continent’s first elected African leaders of modern times, who was later murdered. Depicting modernist buildings in various states of decay, Tillim suggests the failed idealism of Africa’s independence movement. “Patrice Lumumba’s dream, his nationalism, is discernible in the structures, if one reads certain clues,” Tillim has said, “as is the death of his dream, in these de facto monuments.”

[abyssurvived]

what your muse would find out about ivy if they ever looked into her past: ( revamped from here )

the many, many articles of marilyn-anne’s death, and the ton of blog posts / reddit threads about it ( true crime fans trying to figure out what actually happened and some urban legends based off it ).

her mini criminal record; the time she spent in juvie for sending another guy in her class to the hospital after he talked shit about marilyn-anne, the summer she spent repainting the decaying buildings in her town for setting some bins on fire and how she was a suspect for a tiny amount of time for the deaths at the graduation party. 

the footage from when the hikers & search party found ivy with marilyn’s body ( there’s one from the hikers own recording that shows them and the search party breaking through the trees into the clearing, and finding the two girls on the floor together, and another from a different pov of when ivy just woke back up, looking at marilyn-ann and screaming before she passes back out )

the photos from when someone broke into the secret order that ivy was a part of in college; ivy alongside several others, all clothed in dark robes stood in a circle around what appeared to be a rabid dog ( hellhound ); ivy’s seen wiping something red off of her face as she stares straight into the camera lens before the camera shuts off just as someone grabs it.

the cute article her hometown makes about how she surpassed her sister’s death / unfortunate childhood and excels in the FBI ( the very first in her family to make it into the FBI! )

the articles upon articles from her hometown honouring marilyn-anne; talking about how loved she was ( marilyn-ann had made a very good name for herself in toddler pageants / was just going into beauty pageants, and volunteered for the local vets / farms and retirement homes ), and circling on the anniversary of her death every year.

i’ll add to this as my blog progresses, but have this for now!

#🌲 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘 𝖌𝖆𝖟𝖊𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 ━━ ‘ META ’ #so glad that it cleared this up omg

[chickenparm]

Sold to silco sold to silco sold to silco (wattpad, yes, but also serious if you dare)

don't you dare say i don't love you guys. the things i do for you are astounding. harry styles is going to be so broken up about not answering that craigslist ad about some chick selling her daughter.

Sold-to-Silco Wattpad Fic 1,147 Words ---

It’s not the sound of your alarm that wakes you up - you can’t remember the last time it’d had the chance to do that instead of your mother’s ungodly screeching of your name. Ugh, what a bitch. 

With a long-suffering groan, you roll out of bed until your feet hit the hardwood floor, and you look at your bedroom for a second. It is very cool. Your walls are painted black, but you can hardly see them because of all your cool posters and art. Some of them are your favorite bands like Good Charlotte and a heavy metal band that you enjoy that’s called All American Rejects. That one was signed and you kiss it before you go to sleep every night.

Your bedroom is very sparse otherwise - there’s a California king sized bed that you found in a dumpster and brought home, a desk that you’re supposed to do your homework on but doing well in school is for preps, and your closet which is filled with all your band t-shirts and skinny jeans and converse and Tripp pants (from Hot Topic, of course) and your studded belts. 

Your mom is coming down the stairs, stomping on every step and you know she’s going to be upset that you’re in your Invader Zim pajamas still instead of getting dressed in your school uniform that you put studs and belts on so you can stand out because you’re a non-conformist and every day you have to sit in detention for it but that’s fine because school doesn’t matter anyway. 

Once you graduate your band is going to get signed by a big record label and you’re going to be famous and who cares? Oh yeah, you’re in a band and you play lead guitar and also you sing. Everyone says you sound like a mix between Amy Lee from Evanescence and also that one chick from Flyleaf. 

Before your mom can open the door, you hurry to get ready by tying your long, straight, black, curly hair into a messy bun that’s also purposefully messy to make it look like you don’t care because you don’t but it has to look that way also so people know you don’t. You also put on some swipes of mascara and line your eyes with perfectly winged eyeliner and also the shade Gash by Urban Decay because that’s what Gerard Way uses and he’s literally so hot. 

Just as you perfectly arrange your belts - not through the loops though, that’s for preps - your mom kicks the entire door in and she has a bunch of crumpled papers in her hands, “Get up! You’re going to your new home, you ungrateful stinky little brat!”

“I’m NOT stinky, I’m wearing the Nightmare Before Christmas Bone Daddy perfume.”

“Well you have a new dad now. I had some debts from purchasing too many Robux and now I sold you to this guy and you’re his problem now!”

Your mom pulls out an entire cigarette, lights it, and then smokes it all in one entire huff until it’s all gone before she throws it on the floor, “Pack your shit, you butt-sniffing fart huffer, he will be here to come and get you in two minutes.”

“UGH, this is so not cool,” You pout for a moment, stomping your converse-wearing foot on the floor just as she leaves the room. Now you have to pack your stuff and miss school and you were supposed to hang out under the bleachers today and brood with the other emos. That sucks. 

You turn on your stereo very loud and make sure Green Day’s Jesus of Suburbia is playing. It’s your favorite song, Saint Jimmy is like… your idol. You pack your favorite clothes and make sure that your makeup is also there and that you also look very good in the mirror. Outside there is a honk that lasts a long time, like they’re holding the horn down. 

Also your room is in the basement because it’s dark and scary and makes you feel like you’re a vampire, so you take the stairs two at a time and almost miss a few because you’re so clumsy and quirky. Your mom is waiting by the door and she is very impatiently tapping her foot with her hands on her hips. She doesn’t say bye, but she laughs in your face and says, “Good luck!”

The door hits you on the way out and it hurts but you don’t make a face because you don’t want her to know that it hurts even though she probably does know. Parked right in the middle of the street without even using its hazard-lights is a shiny black limousine with all of its windows tinted. The driver jumps out and runs to open one of the doors for you when you walk closer, and when you sit down inside there is a man. 

He is very weird. His face is kind of fucked-up but like in a good way that makes him look dashing and mysterious but also vulnerable and the good kind of ugly like a pug (adopt don’t shop). Except his nose is super big which is not like a pug and you tell him that, “Your nose is very big.”

“Thank you, I grew it myself. I am your new dad now. You can call me dad.”

“You’re not even my real dad,” You say and cross your arms. The man frowns very deep and it makes his whole face look weird. 

“I have the paperwork and I am your dad.”

“But not my REAL dad. I don’t even know him so he can’t be you.”

The man laughs at you for a few minutes and then he says, “Actually I did a DNA test when I signed the paperwork and I am your real dad. Let’s go home now to my mansion.”

And then the limo starts to drive and the man says his name is Silco. He gives you a glass of champagne to celebrate even though you’re not even old enough to drink but he says, “Who cares?”

Those are your favorite two words so you drink the champagne and Silco tells you that he lives in a mansion with maids and butlers and also there’s game rooms. When you tell him that you are in a band, Silco says he will sign you to his record label because he is a music producer and will make you famous and your band is going on tour next week. 

On the drive there you have seven more glasses of champagne and you’re so drunk that you lay across the seat and fall asleep. Silco gives you a jacket and pats you on the head and says good night. You dream about kissing Pete Wentz with tongue and also going to a Black Veil Brides concert.

#silco #silco arcane #shitpost #reader insert #satire #i'm just out here clowning on wattpad

[txemrn]

Cute Without the "E"

Happy 100 weeks of fluffy, angsty and smutty prompts,@wackydrabbles! Thank you so much for all you do to create such a fun environment here on tumblr! I am participating this week with prompt #100: "This is huge--we need to celebrate!" (The prompt will be in bold)

Book: The Nanny Affair

Warning: language; brief allusions of promiscuity and sensuality

Word count: 1267 (+/-)

A/N: What happens when you message your amazingly talented TNA sister and friend in the wee hours of the morning about Sam and Robin being in an emo band? I think it's obvious...@sfb123 I. Can. Not. The pic is absolutely AMAZING! Thank you so much for donating your time and creativity to make me laugh! You NEVER cease to amaze me. Love you, dearly! Big thanks to @chemist-ana and @shannonwrote for pre-reading! These characters belong to Pixelberry.

Title of the Fic/Lyrics in Fic: "Cute Without the 'E' (Cut from the Team)" by Taking Back Sunday (undeniably the BEST emo band to have ever existed)

***

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Ending his phone call with a hushed tone, Sam quietly pulls the door shut to his bedroom. He tiptoes carefully across the hardwood floors, carrying a large duffle bag. He turns the corner to the foyer; now, all he has to do is make it down the elevator, and his secret rendezvous remains just that: a secret.

“Sam?” He freezes mid-stride. “Where are you going?”

“Brynn!” Sam startles, turning on his heel. “Hi, baby!” His voice cracks in the midst of his unnatural peppy tone. He casually drops his bag behind his back before reaching out to hug his girlfriend. “Is, uh--” he kisses her as she raises an eyebrow, “--is the conference call with Tokyo over?”

“Dr. Matsuo is having technical difficulties,” Brynn’s eyes dart to the large duffle bag on the floor before glaring at Sam. “--so we’re taking a break for him to grab another computer”

“Oh, well, in that case--” Sam bounds to the kitchen, “--let’s grab you some coffee. You want some dessert?” He turns around, discovering that Brynn didn’t follow him. “Brynn?” He panics, jogging out of the room. “Brynn?”

“Whoa!” They collide in the hallway, but Sam tries to play it off by tangling his hands in her hair, forcing her into more sweet kisses. She puts her hands up in surrender, pushing his body off of hers. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.” His words are quick, almost mumbled as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“See?” She scoffs into a snicker. “That was weird.”

“N--No it wasn’t.”

Brynn’s eyelids lower, glaring at her boyfriend. Her eyes quickly shift to the duffle bag, then back to Sam. “What are you hiding?” She subtly turns towards the foyer.

“Hiding--?”

“What’s in the duffle bag?” Brynn and Sam slowly look at the duffle bag before glaring back at each other. An eerie silence hangs in the air as if a challenge has been issued. In an instant, they both sprint to the bag. They crash painfully into each other before falling to the floor. “C’mon--Sam--” she grunts as she pulls on the handles. “Let! Go!”

“There’s--nothing--to--OW!” He suddenly screeches, letting go of the bag. “Fucking Succubus! What are those? Talons?” Sam massages his hand as a satisfied Brynn sits cross-legged in victory, locking eyes with him. She puts her fingers on the zipper, taunting him. She slides her hand inside a front pocket.

She gasps. "What is this--?"

“Okay, wait--" he warns.

Brynn pulls out an ornate invitation with silver filigree that says, 'Class of 2002'.

"I can--I can explain."

She continues to read until she abruptly smiles at Sam. "Sam! It's an invite to your twenty-year high school reunion!"

"Yeah, well--" Sam rubs the back of his neck timidly.

"We're going, right? I mean, this is huge--we need to celebrate!"

"Yeah, I mean, of course. I mean--" his face drops as he sighs. "I kinda, sorta have to."

"Why? Is everyone just dying to see what became of the homecoming king?" She jests, booping him on the nose.

"Nominated. I was nominated for homecoming king.”

“Of course, you were,” she rolls her eyes before giggling. She turns her attention back to the bag when Sam interrupts her again.

“Okay, Brynn, look--" he searches for the right words. "--there's a lot about my past--about me in high school you don't know about yet--"

"Sam," she chuckles with a knowing smile. "I already know about the girls from the cheerleading squad--"

He sighs with irritation. "Fucking Robin--!"

"-- and the girls from the JV squad and the captain and co-captain of the pep squad--"

"Fuckin' A--!"

"--at the same time!" Brynn bites her bottom lip to stifle a laughter. "And then he mentioned some girl named Delaney--?"

"-- Jesus Christ! Robin went on one date with her! One--!" He drags his fingers down his face in frustration.

Brynn grabs his hands in amusement. "My point, Mr. Dalton, is I know full-well that you were a bit wild in your youth. You even told me that. Let's see," she starts to count on her fingers, "you vandalized the opposing school's basketball gym; you totaled your dad's Bentley--"

"Okay, you can stop now--"

"--and then you let Robin take the blame!"

Sam snickers under his breath. "Dad was so pissed, had Robin packing his things to kick him out--"

"Sam!" Brynn playfully pushes his shoulder. "You’re such an asshole!"

Sam playfully grabs Brynn’s arm. Pulling her into his lap, he gives her bottom a swift spank, making her yelp with glee. "Am I still an asshole?" He presses his lips into her supple pout.

"Mmmm,” Brynn licks her lips, lowering her voice. “One that needs to be punished--"

"Ooooo--" Sam crashes his lips into her mouth again, nibbling on her lips. "--Daddy likes."

As their kissing becomes deeper, enthralled with passion, Brynn finally pulls away from his tongue. "But wait a minute," she grabs the duffle bag, "what's with you being so shady? What's even in this bag?"

“Um,” he swallows thickly, “well--”

“And why do you ‘kinda, sorta have to go’?” she air-quotes, mimicking his deep voice.

“Okay, fine.” Sam sighs, rubbing the stubble of his chin. “You really want to know?”

“What gave you that impression, Sam?” Brynn sasses, pinching Sam’s arms.

“Okay, smartass,” Sam chuckles before becoming serious. “In high school, I was in a band.”

“That’s it?” She punches out a cheeky laugh. “Sam, I’ve know that since, gosh--” she puts her hand on her forehead,”--shoot, I know it was before your engagement party.”

“Really?”

“Yes, because when we were dancing, I was shocked you had such terrible rhythm--” She widens her eyes, watching for his reaction.

“Hey! I’ve got rhythm,” he says defensively.

“Uh-huh. Sure, you do,” Brynn nods sardonically. Sam begins to tickle Brynn, causing her to jump, straddling his lap.

“Want me to prove it to you?,” he bucks his hips into Brynn, bearing an impish grin. Brynn lets out a hearty laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Okay, now that?” she seals his lips with hers as she rocks her hips into his. “You do have impeccable rhythm.” She combs her fingers through his hair as he grips tightly to her ass. She teases him, licking his top lip. “So, the band is why you have to go?” Her eyes widen with joy. “Oh my God, are you playing at your reunion?”

Sam leans back on his hands, chuckling. “You guessed it, and I have practice tonight.”

“Sam! That’s incredible!” she endearingly strokes his cheek. “So, tell me: what kind of music did you play?”

Suddenly the elevator dings of someone’s arrival to the penthouse, forcing Brynn to dismount from Sam. As the doors shuffle open to reveal it’s passenger, Sam and Brynn are greeted with the gravelly growl of a singing baritone.

“... and will you tell all your friends

You've got your gun to my head

This all was only wishful thinking…”

Brynn stands up in disbelief. Wearing an old black Ramones t-shirt is Robin, complete with skinny jeans, a studded belt, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. His long, chestnut locks are spiked out. “Robin?” Brynn curiously approaches the sight. “Are you wearing guy-liner?”

Abruptly, it hit Brynn like a lightening bolt as she zips open Sam’s duffle bag. “No. Fucking. Way.” She dumps out the contents of the bag: a black shirt with a skull on it, black skinny jeans, a black pair of Vans, and Brynn’s favorite Urban Decay eyeliner.

“Oh my God, Sam!” She stares at him in shock, trying to hide her smile. “Were you in an emo band?”

***

TNA tags (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @somersetmummy @thefrenchiemama

#the nanny affair #the nanny affair 2 #the nanny affair book2 #wacky drabbles #choices tna #choices the nanny affair #sam dalton #choices sam dalton #sam dalton x mc #m!sam dalton #robin flores #emo sam dalton #emo robin flores

[hoodharlow]

Poolside Views

AN: This came from an ask @be-ready-when-i-say-go​ sent me about Cal’s long hair. Then este guey had some audacity to work out, looking like a full course meal. Thank you to @chickensass for screen recording this and sending it to me, ilysm. As always thank you to @d-oaks​ for always taking time out of her day to beta read and edit my stuff.

Requested?: Kinda, Hunter sent me an ask that was supposed to be me just going ‘ashgdskjdsjk’ but it lead me to writing this.

Warnings: smut...kinda

Word Count: 2.3k words

"Your ass looks so good in those shorts." Calum said leaning against the makeup display and earning an eye roll from Claudia.

She dropped an eyeshadow brush into her basket and made her way over to the hair care section. Calum pushed off and followed her.

"You know you can give me your number and we can meet up for—"

"Hey, are you ready to go?" A girl asked while approaching Claudia. She gave Calum a suspicious look before smiling at Claudia. She leaned over to her. "Pretend you know me. Maybe he'll stop hitting on you."

It took Claudia a second to process what she meant. "Oh, no. This is my idiot boyfriend. He likes to hit on me for no reason. Sorry for that." She quickly explained.

"Oh."

"Sorry." Calum apologized. The girl gave Calum a final glare and walked over to the Urban Decay display.

Claudia turned around and playfully smacked Calum's arm. "Menso."

"I'm getting a smoothie. You want one?" Calum asked her.

"Please." She nodded. She reached for her bag, pulling out her wallet. She fished out a card. "Here, Danny gave me a gift card for my birthday a few years back and I always forget to use it."

He took the card and strolled over to the Jamba Juice kiosk. A few minutes later he walked back to Sephora with their smoothies and a waffle for Claudia. He spotted her nodding along, bored, at what some guy was telling her. Calum realized exactly why that girl walked over to Claudia earlier. It was clear that the guy was flirting with her, and she was not interested. He also saw how her shoulders tensed as he took a step forward, and she took one back. 

Calum walked over to them. “Here’s your smoothie.” He told her, handing her her drink. The guy watched Claudia take the offered drink, and he slinked off. 

“Thank god you’re here. He was getting on my nerves.” Claudia said before taking a generous sip of her smoothie. She hummed and smacked her lips at how good it was, a habit she picked up from him. 

She led him to the Fenty Beauty aisle to get herself a new foundation. She was supposed to only get some hair treatment for Calum’s hair because the blond ends were starting to split, and the avocado and egg mask she used on herself wasn’t helping him. 

At first Claudia suggested that he should buzzcut it, but, much to her dismay,  he rejected her idea, saying that  he wanted to bring back the curls. Luckily her sister in law went platinum blonde sometime before and recommended this deep conditioner that worked wonders on her.

Claudia unlocked her phone and checked the picture she took of her old bottle to make sure she was getting the correct shade. She also grabbed an eyeliner and some bronzer. When she checked the eyeshadow shades, Calum rested his chin on her shoulder. He snuck a few kisses on her neck, earning a few incoherent sounds from Claudia. 

Casually, Claudia pulled his arm and swatched some of the eyeshadow from the neutral palette on it. She made a face and reached for the redder palette and tested those colors on him. She liked how they shimmered against Calum’s skin, so she placed a palette on her basket. 

“It says that if you get two they’ll cost you $45.” Calum pointed out with his drink. He grabbed a purple-shade palette for her and placed it on her basket. “I’m saving you money here.”

“I don’t take money advice from someone who thought that a roll of fabric only cost $5.” 

“How the fuck was I supposed to know they sell it by the yard?”

“That’s how they sell in Lincraft. When I went with your mom, she bought like three meters of fabric.”

“No shit, they sell in meters, not yards.”

“It’s the same concept!”

While they waited in line ‘Wildflower’ sounded through the store. Both of them looked at each other in disbelief. Calum pulled her to his chest and swayed her to the music, ‘cause he wanted to hold her.

“You’re the only one that makes me...” Calum began.

“Laugh.” Claudia cut him off, filling in the pause.

“Every time we...”

“Talk.” 

Claudia got too into the song that she didn’t realize what her hips did to Calum. He was quick to point out that she wasn’t wearing anything under his ‘Drop Dead’ t-shirt she was wearing. She had somehow tucked it into itself, making it look like a crop top. Once the song ended Calum took the basket and placed it in front of himself, waiting for their turn.

Their last stop at the outdoor mall after Sefora was lunch. They wandered into a taphouse and restaurant where a hostess led them to a table in the back patio. 

Claudia was slightly nervous. She looked around to make sure no paparazzi were present to jump out of the bushes and ambush them with pictures. Once she was sure they were safe, she read over the menu, instantly picking the chicken sandwich and spicy margarita. A waitress came by and took their orders. 

"I'll be right back, gotta take a piss." Calum said. He got up and walked over to the waitress asking for the restroom. 

Claudia pulled out her phone and decided to check Twitter in the meantime. She was speechless to say the least when she saw something new on Cal’s IG page. She couldn’t wrap it around her head why Calum would do something like this. The one time she decided to lurk through his tagged posts, she stumbled on this. It was a boomerang where he’s casually curling weights. 

She should be used to him working out, but in all honesty, she can barely handle him in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. Now she’s seeing him shirtless with his shorts stuck to his legs.

"What are you looking at?” Calum asked her. 

"You said you were working out with your trainer the other day." Claudia accused him.

"I did. When you left for your meeting, he came over. He made me swim a few laps and then we did some weight training." He shrugged. He took a sip of his beer and crossed his ungodly arms on his chest.

Claudia showed him her screen playing the boomerang. "This is not working out. This is thirst trapping."

***

Calum adjusted Claudia's leg around his waist as he fucked into her. They didn't even make it through lunch before they asked the waitress to put their food in take out containers. Once home, their clothes landed on the floor, and Calum was on his knees in front of Claudia. Which brought them to now with Calum on top of her as he made her chant his name for the third time in the last hour. 

Her moans filled his ears, egging him on. He was close. His thrusts became messy and quick. He felt one of her hands release his arm. Slowly it wandered down to where they were connected to each other, and she slowly rubbed herself.

"Cal, please come with me." She said softly. 

It was all he needed. He slowed down, making his thrusts more precise. He leaned down and kissed her. She pulled her hand away from herself and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

With a final thrust, Calum got them both off. He kept thrusting into her. He loved how she felt around him as they came together. Without pulling out of her, he maneuvered them so all his weight wasn't on Claudia.

"If my trainer posting videos of me leads to this, then I'm going to work out all the time." he said, earning an eye roll from her. 

To bring them back from cloud 9 haze, Calum blew raspberries on  Claudia's stomach. He kissed up her stomach to her neck until he reached her lips. The kiss was soft and carefree. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding her up. He pulled away and exaggeratedly wiggled his tongue as he kissed her, making Claudia giggle. She wrapped her fingers around his hair and sighed. 

“We gotta fix this Maruchan head of yours.” Claudia mumbled twirling his hair. 

He pulled out of her, making her sigh, and slipped on his shorts. He went to the kitchen and grabbed his army green Hydro Flask from the fridge. He sat on one of the stools and mindlessly scrolled through Twitter, reading all of the fans' reactions to him working out. 

Seconds later Claudia came in with the conditioner and shampoo. She leaned against him, reading the instructions of the conditioner. He rested his chin on her shoulder and read the bottle with her. She motioned him to the sink.

Calum leaned back on the sink, and Claudia washed his hair. Her fingers untangled his messy curls as she massaged shampoo in them. She reached over and grabbed the sprayer hose to rinse his head. She turned around to get the conditioner. She poured some on her hand before Calum stopped her. 

“Woah, woah, wait a minute,” he began. “What is this for?”

She looked at him confused, as if he didn't just read the bottle with her. “It helps your hair get all soft and less, like, stiff. Mede used it when she went blonde after having Sebas.” She looked over the bottle. “Mira, it has keratin, your hair is going to look super shiny and actually healthy.”

She didn’t wait for his response before she generously lathered the conditioner on all the dry and blonde parts. Duke wandered in the kitchen, but turned back when he saw Calum getting washed. 

“Now we wait half an hour for it to work its magic on your hair.” Claudia said. She washed all the product off her hands. She eyed him and smirked. "I got an idea on what we could do for the next half hour."

***

Just as Claudia slipped him in her mouth, he suggested they get a pizza. Calum made his way to the front door for their dinner.He was so focused on the pizza order, he didn't notice Claudia left him to get some sun.

He tipped the delivery driver and made his way to the back yard. He caught his reflection in the mirror. His hair really looked shiny and healthy. He pushed it back and fluffed it up. Calum couldn't keep his hands off his hair. In all his years, his hair never felt this soft. 

He set the pizza on the kitchen counter and went outside. He sat on a lounge chair surrounding a metal table. He looked over to the pool and saw a bikini clad Claudia napping on a floatie while Duke rested his head on her ass. He grabbed his phone and quickly snapped a few pictures of them. Without much thought he posted one where her face was hidden. He captioned it, 'Poolside Views' and locked his phone. He'll check the chaos he provoked later. 

He grabbed a pool rod and leaned over, pushing the pool floatie to the edge. Duke woke up and yipped at him causing Claudia to wake up. 

"It wasn't even ten minutes." She sighed. 

"Good because you start school on Monday, and your sleep schedule needs to get fixed." Calum said. 

She flipped him off. She reached for Duke and safely placed him on concrete. She grabbed the edge of the pool and awkwardly pulled herself up. 

Calum was ready with a towel and one of his flannels for Claudia to slip on. He sensed that it was going to be a chilly night, so grabbed a few pieces of wood and went inside to start a fire in the living room's chimney. 

Claudia emerged minutes later dressed in a lace teddy under his flannel. She placed the pizza on the coffee table in front of them and arranged the pillows so they could lean against the couch. She mindlessly scrolled through their watch list on Peacock. She smiled to herself as she queued up '3rd Rock from the Sun' knowing how much it annoyed Calum because Claudia would be heart eyes for Joseph Gordon-Levvit the whole time. 

Once they finished their pizza, they cleaned up and found themselves back in the living room. They continued watching where they left off. At some point they ended up cuddling on the couch with Calum on top. Claudia was twirling around Calum's now soft curls in between her fingers when she felt him sigh in contentment. He nuzzled his head closer to her chest. 

"Thank you." Calum told her quietly. 

"For what?" She asked him, surprised at the comment.

"Making my hair nice and soft. I like how your fingers felt when you washed it. Made me feel special."

Claudia smiled to herself. Sometimes she just couldn't believe how sweet Calum could be. 

"Maybe we can make it a day?" She suggested. She pushed back his hair. "Like selfcare Saturday,  where we spend the day relaxing. We could sleep in then get some breakfast. The rest of the day we spend it with some hair care, skin care and all that jazz."

Calum lifted his head and smiled at her. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?" She asked him. He simply nodded and went back to watching their show. Three episodes later, Calum fell asleep on her. 

Claudia reached for her phone and scrolled through Instagram. She dropped her phone in shock. The phone fell on Cal’s back, starting him awake briefly before he closed his eyes again. Claudia sighed; of course that would be the first picture of her that he posts. She scrolled through the comments, relieved some weren't as bad as she assumed. Until she saw her dad's.

'Pinche Calum.'

Taglist: @another-lonely-heart​ @sunshinebabycal​   @calumscalm ​@karajaynetoday​​ @cherryxwildflower​​ @myloverboyash​​  @idontneedanyone​​ @findingliam-o​​ @5-secondsofcolor​​ @spicycal​​ @sexgodashton​​ @sunshinebabycal​​ @another-lonely-heart

#calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #calum hood smut #calum hood #calum hood fan fic #calum hood fanfic #El Novio series #el novio

[nostalgiachan]

A friend discord is doing the 100 OCs Challenge, so I’m doing more old OC redraws. Here’s two from last year that I didn’t post yet and two from the past week. The earliest images of all four (from 2007(!!!)) are at bottom.

Character backstories below the cut!

#5: Neros Idea: Spooky genderless lord of death Story: Haunted

Apparently, the original "legend" behind the Eyes of Neros was that when they first saw the Realm of Mortuua, they were so horrified by what they saw they tore out their own eyes, which then became jewels. While Neros wasn't necessarily a villain, if I remember correctly, Sil did wind up fighting them to retrieve Ry and Mulore's souls and return them to life without the corruption of the Eyes.

But in the Rethinkening, Neros probably got the biggest overhaul of all. Rather than just being a generic lord of death, I ended up rethinking the Ethereal Lords entirely. The Ethereal Lords, and all within their realm, were beings born of concepts - when a concept was first conceived, a living entity would be born of it, and the greater the concept, the more powerful the being. The most powerful among them gathered together into a sort of pantheon and ruled over the rest. The weaker beings would blink out over time, replaced with new beings, while the Ethereal Lords, as they called themselves, seemed to exist eternally. But as the weaker beings began to recognize and consider their fates, a collective concept began to form: the concept of death.

And thus was Neros formed. The Lords deeply feared and hated Neros's power, because it was the great equalizer; even they would now one day disappear to be replaced by another. And so, they ambushed Neros, tearing out their eyes and sealing them away. Neros's once disturbingly beautiful form rapidly decayed into a desiccated husk. But though the Lords weakened them so greatly, they couldn't manage to actually kill Neros, or even to make them leave their halls. In a move akin to hiding a mess so you don't have to look at it anymore, the Lords forced Neros into rags and robes and bound a placid mask to their face so as not to have to see the eyeless living corpse anymore.

Neros still held sway over the lesser beings, however, and the Lords were fine with that. So long as they weren't going to die, everything was hunky dory, and publicly, they would act like Neros was a respected member of the Lords. They did their best to make sure all of this was forgotten by existence at large.

But after dutiful centuries of service in their temple archives, Mulore found out. And she thought that was some bullshit.

#6 Armin Ara Idea: Young urban vampire, probably my first non-white OC (Southeastern Asian inspired, Indian in particular) Story: "Warning" and "Make Yourself" (based on the albums Morning View and Make Yourself by Incubus, respectively)

Ah, the second vampire revenge protagonist, though a little less heavy on the revenge and a little more heavy on the problematic love triangles.

Armin is the "true-born" daughter of Lexaeus Tryst (same deal as with Luxia Mar, I thought the name was cool, but it's not that Lexaeus) and Maya Ara, though Lexaeus disappeared for reasons unknown while Maya was still pregnant. Because Maya told her little about her father, Armin believes that they were abandoned. Soon after her birth, the two left the Trysts' palace and began living as nomads, frequently moving from place to place and only settling in secluded areas.

I would say she started training in sword fighting because mysterious assailants would occasionally find and threaten them, but...honestly, I don't remember. It's probably that, though. I don't even remember why they moved out of the palace, to be honest, but it probably had something to do with Armin having A POWER AND SHE CAN DISTOY US ALL THE BAD GUYS.

What I DO know is that eventually, Armin finally meets a young vampire hunter named Alphonse Lundgren in an orchard of cherry blossoms. Alphonse doesn't sense her as a threat, however (ashlkasdjh), so the two become friends.  One night, though, a sexy vampire lady named Maria kidnaps Alphonse in an attempt to bait Armin, her real target, into fighting her. They have a BIG ANIME FIGHT, Armin wins, and then she moves away from Alphonse because he'd be in too much danger if she stayed around him any longer.

Eventually, Maya joins an acting troupe which ends up settling in one place, so Armin and Maya settle down with them. Over the decades, a city center springs up around them, so Armin becomes a HIP YOUNG URBAN VAMPIRE. After she gets her ass jumped in an alleyway by the man who's been stalking her all these centuries, Nil Tryst - the "turned" child of Lexaeus (who may or may not be her half-brother depending on how the rules of true-born vs turned work) and also her arranged fiancé (I was 16, I did not think about these things), a man named Arc finds her and nurses her back to health.

tl;dr for the rest, Arc is Alphonse's descendant, Alphonse was killed by Nil and Arc's ancestors all died hunting Nil in retaliation, Nil wants his waifu but Armin's not having it, Armin beats Nil's ass at a Halloween ball, though Maria gets him out of there before he's killed, Armin and Arc have a lil' smooch. Then in "Make Yourself," Maya and Armin find out Lexaeus is still alive and has summoned Armin to his castle, Arc is obviously going to come along to protect his girlfriend BUT OH NO NIL CAME, TOO. Love triangle shenanigans ensue (even though only one of these men is even remotely a sensible choice here) as they fight their way through a physically impossible castle that I SWEAR TO GOD is not just Castle Oblivion.

I seem to have had a habit of taking elements from things I liked, but not really renaming them because "nobody's going to get that reference huehuehuehuehue"

Also, surprisingly, I actually wrote "Warning" to completion. I'm sure it was fucking awful.

#7: Alphonse Lundgren Idea: Armin's Lost Lenore, mostly, also vampires and vampire hunters falling in love was my shit Story: Warning

Armin's Only Friend, a vampire hunter skilled in the use of polearms. They met when Armin and Maya happened to move near his village. She was training in a cherry tree orchard one night when Alphonse came across her. While he could see she was a vampire, he didn't perceive her as a threat (because of course he didn't, not that she wasn't powerful or anything), and the two got to talking. Over the course of a year, they hung out, trained together, and became friends, with Armin even giving Alphonse a necklace of hers as a memento.

However, after Armin rescued him from Maria Tryst, she disappeared, and he never saw her again. Years passed, and while he would marry and have children, he never truly moved on from Armin. Eventually, he could no longer deny the feeling that he had unfinished business, and hunted down the vampire who he thought was responsible for driving Armin away from him: Nil Tryst.

That didn't end so well for Alphonse, unfortunately. It also didn't end well for more than a few of his children, grandchildren, and so on, because a great many of them took up Alphonse's vampire hunting ways, and inevitably they'd all try to claim vengeance against Nil.

Oh yeah, totally forgot to mention most of these characters are, like...(whatever) years old but look 16 because of course they were, lmao

#8: Maria Tryst Idea: Gaudy sexy vampire villainess. Story: Warning

Nil Tryst's right-hand woman and only turned (though unlike the relationship between Lexaeus and Nil, they don't see themselves as father-daughter - vampire relationships are complicated, you know). She was mostly there to A) be a villain and B) be a hot villain to contrast Armin.

Her first appearance in the story is her kidnapping of Alphonse. She was supposed to bait Armin into fighting so she could beat her ass and drag her back to Nil, but in truth, she wanted to "accidentally" kill Armin because she was jealous that Nil wouldn't marry her instead, considering she actually knew the man. Not that it ultimately mattered, since Armin beat her ass anyway.

She next appears a few generations later, storming the stage during one of Maya's plays and baiting Armin into another fight in order to announce that Nil had arrived in the city. While she loses her part of the fight in the back alley, Nil promptly shows up, kicks Armin's ass, and absconds with Maria (if I remember the story correctly). She doesn't show up again until she needs to rescue Nil from his shit-kicking at the Halloween ball.

#my art #oc art #oc redraw #redraw

[belladoesmakeup]

Hey guys,

I was playing around with my makeup last night and in true me fashion I started off in pj's with a messy bun and by the end of the clean up I had a full face of glam on. Honestly every time I do a tidy up I find products I hasn't worn in a little while and then I have the sudden urge to apply everything to my face. I honestly find it so fun shopping my own makeup collection because it is really big so I do forget what I have sometimes as bad as that sounds.

So in today's post I'm gonna be chatting you through this makeup look which I will be using a lot in the future. When I start any makeup routine my first step is always primer! I can't live without the stuff honestly so at this stage I will apply my Charlotte Tilbury Flawless Poreless Primer for my complexion and the Fenty Beauty Pro Filt'r Eye Primer. This combo will keep my face pretty all day, by doing these steps first I then go straight to eyeshadow partly because by the time I finish my eyes the primer has sunk into my skin long enough to apply foundation. So back to eyes. For eyeshadow I used the Huda Beauty Ruby Obsessions palette to create a pink toned shimmer look, by adding the shimmer it turns the matte pink into a lighter shade instead of a intense hot pink. For mascara I used my legendary Sky High Mascara by Maybelline , it is without a doubt the best mascara out there. No arguments, no debates it's that good.

Now my eyes are done I go back to complexion. For foundation I used my Double Wear foundation from Estee Lauder, it blends like a dream and gives my skin a gorgeous satin matte finish. To set my face I have started using the Laura Mercier translucent setting powder. This powder is so lightweight on the skin it leaves my skin with a gorgeous matte finish. After powder I then apply my body shop blush. Annoyingly it's so old now the name and details at the back as faded off but it's a coral pink shade. To give my face more shape I then used my Filmstar Bronze and Glow face palette. This palette has the perfect cool toned bronze shade to contour my face and give my cheekbones more definition. After that is all blended in I then grab my Very Victoria lipstick from Charlotte Tilbury. It’s my new favourite nude tone pink and I now think I prefer it over pillow talk which is mad! Lastly to hold everything together I used my Urban Decay All Nighter Setting Spray. This spray holds everything together my life, my face everything really.

And there we have my new fav makeup look! Hope you liked this style of post for a change.

Lots of love

Bella x x

#get ready with me #grwm #get ready with me tutorial #tutorial #grwm post #beauty blog #beauty blogger #beauty blogging #blog #blogger #blogging #lifestyle #lifestyle blog #fenty beauty #charlotte tilbury #laura mercier #huda beauty #pillow talk #obsessions eyeshadow palette #double wear #makeup #make up #beauty #photography #cosmetics #me #my photography #makeup look #makeup blogger #girl

[skepticaloccultist]

The Mirror of the Landscape

I thought I would offer this article on landscape magic from the first issue of FOLKWITCH as a public offering this Solstice. May the sun burn bright and the bonfires burn brighter on the hills of your ancestors.

"The Mirror of the Landscape" Eldred Wormwood

The realm of the witch is defined by their interactions with that natural world in which they exist. From the dawn of mankind’s attempts to harness the power of magic we have relied on the subtle web of our interactions with the world “beyond the veil.” That mirror of the landscape in which we read our fortunes and prophecy our circumstance.

Yet little direct attention has been paid to the role that the landscape plays in the practice of witchcraft in the annals of so called occult scholarship. Much has been said about the how of practical magic and ritual, but very rarely do we hear of the why or where.

The landscape, that terrain in which you exist every moment of the day. From the dew covered foggy mountain bottoms to the industrial park urban sprawl the landscape surrounds us. It is the plane of reality in which we live.

You bleed into the ground. Feed the soil with your sweat and tears. Drink from the well that fills from its water table, your body becomes one with the place you inhabit. The landscape and the body are part of the system, the inextricable network of interrelated particles that make up evolving life on earth.

Most humans, mundanes without the perception to see the world for what it is, simply go about the actions of living life in survival mode. Take what they need, give what they must, eat, sleep and eventually die. But the witch sees the world at a resolution differently than most, looks at those shadows that others ignore, sees the light through the trees as more than random, holds on to the language of pattern.

The witch reads the world like a book of secrets, the landscape a story of evolving ideas that we grasp and understand. The clouds like a language, the whisper of the wind through trees, the way that puddles of rain reflect the sky - a signal we come to understand.

Your nose knows the way it seems, a deep sensor of quantum mechanics it feels like a finger into the cloud of potentiality that is the future, guiding you through the fog of possibility until you reach your goal along the path. The nose knows, if only you could speak its subtle language.

Mankind has always existed in the landscape, even in our futile attempts to control it. We are primates, who lived among forests and grass plains so recently that rivers remember when there were no cities. We are part of the natural world, whether we realize it or not. The witch is merely aware of this fact, and that knowledge creates an open state of knowing.

The landscape itself is a sound system, filled with the reverberations of not merely the events that have unfolded in this river of time, but the echos of other rivers descending in a swirling madness of never and always, meting out punishment when needed to teach the seeker a lesson in humility.

The mass of forms on the surface of the earth create chambers that capture the sounds and energies created by living things. These echos are the ancestors, speaking across the illusion of time to teach us the way toward the future. The beat in the echo of space like a drum in a forest, like a stolen P A in a Detroit warehouse.

From the time before written words we had strove to gain a foothold in this primordial state. Abrahamic religions even cite our fall from this world of perception, though go on to ban anyone who would seek it out for themselves.

In the ancient Greek Magical Papyri it is documented our relationship with the spirits who inhabit this physical world around us. While they rarely have corporeal bodies these spirits wield incredible power over the forces of the natural world.

These ‘genius loci’ tend to a static place, inhabiting features in the landscape full of energy. Rivers & streams, mountain valleys, ancient forests, those places where the nexus of being affords them a comfortable habitat.

Yet even in the urban world that we have carved they have evolved to function. Certain forms of building, areas of great human traffic like crossroads, material places we have created for sometimes other reasons that the abode of these spirits have come over time to find ‘genius loci’ of their own. Instead of teeth of thorn and stone they bare teeth of glass and steel.

Not all seekers can walk a path of pure natural landscape. Many are stuck in the sprawl of urban decay, watching ruins of man’s 1970s bad design decisions be polished into glass and steel turds of prefabricated corporate enclaves. Startup incubator hellscapes that shine in the rain like a b set on the Blade Runner story board artwork.

The city is haunted by these corridors of steel, the shades that stalk the streets are those of the dead homeless, of working girls and deranged ex bankers tossed out of their office after breaking down in a fit of anti- capitalist rage and destroying the spreadsheets through which mankind must continually consume.

We work our magic at these crossroads of manmade forms, concrete covered in tar and piss, the smell of car exhaust thick like incense of copal, the steel and glass become an altar at which we sacrifice lives to the deities of consumption and avarice.

In the 1950s a group of modern thinkers created the philosophical genre of psychogeography. The Situationists, primarily under the influence of Guy Debord, outline this critical analysis of the landscape in a series of articles published in the “Internationale Situationniste”.

Debord would publish his seminal work “Theory of the Dérive” originally in Les Lèvres Nues #9 (November 1956). In this short piece he outlines a form of practical divinatory landscape magic (though he does not make reference to magic directly) he dubs “dérive” which translates roughly as “drifting”.

“The ecological analysis of the absolute or relative character of fissures in the urban network, of the role of microclimates, of distinct neighborhoods with no relation to administrative boundaries, and above all of the dominating action of centers of attraction, must be utilized and completed by psychogeographical methods. The objective passional terrain of the dérive must be defined in accordance both with its own logic and with its relations with social morphology.” - Guy Debord, “Theory of the Dérive”

While Debord was primarily preoccupied with the urban environment, these ideas being born out of creative theories of the urban dwelling surrealists and eventually the situationists, they hark back to various forms of wandering and coming to know one’s environment through intimate journey common in rural areas throughout history. The “riding” of Scotland, the “walkabout” of the Australian native tribes, many cultures have a prescribed method of coming to know oneself via the land. Yet rarely do these cultural ideas of landscape exploration delve into the nature of the landscape in any scientific way.

The witch walks as well among the ruins of capitalism as we do the forest floor. We smell the stench of mankind’s death lingering on the horizon, a literal forest fire shouting in hisses and belches “I can’t breathe.” But even the urban witch needs time out away from the designed landscapes of man’s continual betrayal.

Out of the city, into the remaining forests and plains, to the mountains and beaches bereft of human indignities. Here we recharge ourselves, listen at the lectern of that parliament of birds, meditate in that complex drone of bees in a flower covered field. The wind through various trees speaking to us in a tongue we have always known but have no name for, only the sounds that tell us things we have always wondered but were simply afraid to ask.

This is the sabbat, this return to nature. This is the revelry for which we must escape even the most dreary urban existence, this soil from which our blood is fed, these waters to cleanse our spirit in preparation for the journey we must take along the path.

The “land” is itself the surface of the Earth’s crust, an area created by the shifting of the tectonic plates. This thin skin of cooled material harbors and incredibly diverse ecosystem. Yet it is not just above the soil that life lives. Deep into the earth we find an enormous quantity of complex lifeforms existing at depths we have only recently come to understand.

That earth, a particle itself screaming through naked space. A vehicle we inhabit, a space station ringing out dub frequencies into the cosmos. The electromagnetic field of the sun, its orbiting particles/planets shifting over the empty space in the radiant aura of that star at the center of the solar system.

When we look up into space we see nothing more than particles. Screaming suns that ring out just like every atom in your body. Interrelated electromagnetic fields pulsing in waves like haunted sound-systems. Singing that tune your soul needs, urging you on to the sex beat of reproduction. The pounding drums of interstellar rain inhabiting your abode, shining out of your eyes and your mouth like the burning of a salamander born under a blackened sun.

The surface of the earth we inhabit is not merely the geographic variables we perceive, nor is it only the organic film that clings to the upper layers of the outer crust. The earth is inhabited by more beings than can be accounted for with mass and electrons. Beings of light and gravity, magnetism and electricity. They inhabit rivers, mountains, crossroads. They ring out the tune you seek, dance to the beat you need but if only you could see with your ears and hear with your eyes.

Throughout this region there is an electromagnetic field of complex forms, irradiated by material objects (including the earth itself) yet influenced by shifting patterns of energy in space beyond the biosphere. Like a tapestry made of energy this electromagnetic field contains forms of life long known to the witch, yet hardly understood by common society.

These entities exist in ways both dimensionally and frequency shifted from our own plane of existence. While we are able to bridge the gap between our realm and theirs, and these dimensions do share a common fabric, it is only through practice that we can become accustom to their existence.

Spirits; whose names and forms are as varied as the names mankind has given to shades of colour and light. These beings we refer to as ancestor, kith, and elemental are but part of an ecosystem we have little knowledge of, and what rare knowledge we have is occulted.

With various forms of offering, pacts and rituals we have come to learn how to coax them into allegiance. How to work with them and communicate. Though much of our ritual action is not for them, it is to prepare us as practitioners for the mental and emotional toil of interaction with beings whose existence is obscure. This is why our offerings must come from our possessions, must have meaning to us. Our mental desire projected into the value of an object enriches its value in our trade with those who inhabit the landscape.

As old as it is in the realm of practical magic that concept we have been referring to as “landscape magic” is long overdue for a more accurate descriptive terminology. We have relied for centuries on the designations of various religious authorities to give form to our understanding of these beings, even in the days of ancient Greece, where the witch’s perception was shaped by the everyday culture and beliefs of the ancient Greek.

The secularization of witchcraft, particularly in the practices of the folkwitch, leaves us a framework that can adopt to a practitioner’s own religious beliefs, or be parallel to them in the practicalities of magical practice.

Yet the terminology of “landscape magic” is limited through lack of direct dialog between the disparate practitioners. When we turn to those authors whose work have touched on landscape magic beyond the psychogeographers, (historians like George Ewart Evans, folklorists like Katharine Briggs) we see a pattern of understanding in the practice of common folk magic throughout the world of interaction with a class of spirits whose form and function are shaped equally by the physical manifestation of the geographic landscape in which they inhabit, and the socio cultural framework of the practitioner in their understanding of the shape of the universe.

When we have considered the language of magic and its history of cultural appropriation we have tried in many ways to find a terminology that best represents the broader ideas encapsulated in “landscape magic”, in particular relation to the folkwitch.

Jake Stratton Kent, in his landmark text “Geosophia”, outlines the history and origins of grimoiric magic through the concept of Goetia, a body of knowledge whose origins are derived primarily from the ancient Greek Magical Papyri. While he doesn’t dissect the name of his volume the term “geosophia” is a Greek compound derived of “geo” for earth and “sophia” for wisdom.

The relation of goetia, though distinct and historical, to landscape magic is apparent in that many of the concepts related to spirits we as magic practitioners have come to understand find their origins in the goetia.

I have proposed the term “geotia” (geo sha) to give a broader modern terminology to the idea of landscape magic. It takes the reverse of two vowels in goetia and alters its meaning to one more rooted in the land itself and less tied to a specific massive historic body of knowledge.

Geotia is the state of being within the land itself. The total perceptual elimination of the culturally perceived boundaries between oneself/ species and the natural world. The prerequisite state of the practice of folk witchcraft.

Thus the intersection of geotia and witchcraft is a shared understanding of the form that reality takes when stripped bare of our projected ideas of consensual (culturally acceptable) reality. When we embrace the seeking of that state of geotia we begin to see more widely the potential of energy that exists in the world around us. The folkwitch comes to work a specific patch of land, one that is tended to and looked after by the witch.

The landscape that you make your patch is populated by a wildlife beyond physical form. Not just in the echo of your ancestors, but beings who have lived as long as there have been homosapiens, often longer.

You bleed into the ground, it drinks of your essence and it knows you. You feel outward into the landscape. In some places on the earth it is calm, its hills and valleys having long settled with history. But in others it is marred with the darkness of bloodshed, disease and war. Haunted landscapes that linger still because we refuse to let them settle, they instill us with that dread of our species past.

The words of your ancestors echo down the dna line, reverberate in the sound chamber of the landscape. They teach you who you are and who you are meant to be. They guide you on your path, but like a willow-the- wisp there is no catching them, only a journey further and further into the endless forest of self discovery.

The witch is the link between the ostracized humanity of the late 21st century and the natural world. We are the walkers who can hear, perceiving the true structure of the world we inhabit, beyond the illusion society teaches is “real.” We have been to the other side of the hedge, and have ridden the night winds. We fear not death, and often flirt with its sweet caress. The witch is the guardian of the land, but what we guard it from is humanity.

  Bibliography:

Guy Debord. Theory of the Dérive. Les Lèvres Nues #9. 1956.

Jake Stratton-Kent. Geosophia. Scarlet Imprint. 2013.

George Ewart Evans. The Pattern Under the Plow: Aspects of Folk-Life in East Anglia. Faber and Faber. 1966.

Katharine Briggs. Pale Hecate’s Team. Rutledge. 1962.

  +++

This article originally appeared in FOLKWITCH vol 1, 2019.

#skeptical occultist #occult #occult books #grimoire #witch #witchcraft #folkwitch #landscape magic #geotia #goetia #ceremonial magic #necromancer #necromancy #alchemy #conjuration #derive #psychogeography #bruja #bruxa #veneficium #maleficia #root conjure #hedge witch #cunning craft #cunning #natural magic #green magic #green witch

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter eleven

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

Tags: @dopeyouth @theymakemegayer @save-me-the-last-dance @poppysmc (If anyone want to be tagged in or removed, just tell me)

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so… i’m sorry fo the grammar errors. I also installed recently Grammary, so… hope its worth it.

This chapter contains some sensitive topics about tragedies and sex insinuations, I really didn't want to write it down with details both out of respect. I mean, personally, I didn't want to explain what's "under" in a fanfic, but if you do have doubts or curiosity, ask away in chat, especially if you are starting hormones, there is a lot for you to know about down there because it definitely changes something. Also, this other topic might touch a nerve and I really didn't do it without respect to the victims, so I'm sorry if it feels like that.

Previously

----

Staten Island it’s the third-largest borough in New York, but it is the least populated. The northern part of the island is the most urbanized, with some areas of somewhat decayed housing blocks that didn’t attract attention at all. It was… ok? quiet? She wasn’t sure exactly what to say about that place, but what was another thing she wasn’t sure about? Well...

“Are you not going to tell me what are we doing?” Poppy asked once again, feeling irritated as they both walked through the breeze but warm streets. At first, she thought they were taking the bus but Beck asked something to a random guy and started walking for a really, really long time, what was all this about? Beck looked tense, kind of nervous, and that alone made her feel strange, unnerved. "Are you alright?" Poppy asked again, but this time she sounded worried.

"Yeah, I'm just…" They exhaled in an attempt to draw their nerves away from themself. "I'm pretty nervous. I've never done this before." Beck chuckled.

"Do what?" Poppy frowned, curiosity floating in her mind strongly, to be honest, she had never seen them so tense before, even though they were trying to look calm. Beck smirked and took her by the hand.

"Come on, I have to show you something."

"Is it too far?"

"Are you already tired?" Beck replied, mocking her with that sassy smile of theirs.

"Me? Absolutely no." She said, raising an eyebrow. "I could literally go for miles."

"I'll have to prove that myself." Beck winked and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You're a dimwit."

"Yeah" they shrugged. "I'm cute, though.”

“Barely.” She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile but failing in the process so Beck laughed at it. Suddenly an unexpected drop felt swiftly in her nose, making her look up to the sky where a big, grey cloud was still above their heads. Soon, she felt raindrops in her hair, her clothes, her shoes!

“Oh, shoot. This is not good…” Beck said while they both walked faster, reaching out for cover in a shop awning.

“You think? These Jimmy choo are not even in the market yet!”

“Well, we don’t want them to be ruined, don’t we?."

"Of course not! What kind of dumb ques—"

Poppy didn't get to end the sentence, Beck took her by the wrist and started running full speed and nonstop. "Beck!" She screamed, the rain pouring down her body while that asshole laughed like a devilish kid. "Beck Hughes, let go of me this instant!!"

"We're almost there!" She heard them saying without turning to see her.

"Where are you taking me?!"

Beck slowed down little by little until they both stopped in front of a tiny, old, yellow house with barely two floors. Beck took the keys out of their pockets and opened the door, allowing Poppy to get inside the dark and quiet place.

“So… here we are.” Beck spoked turning on the lights.

The place that received them was the living room, but it was not an ordinary living room, it had neon lights currently exposing a purple color, a keyboard piano, a couple of guitars, and an old-fashioned mended couch with a lot of patches over black leather that actually looked really well together. The walls were exhibiting posters, framed cool landscape black and white photographs, and a Youtube silver plaque. She recognized the place right away.

“Wait… this is the place where you record your music.” She asked. Poppy watched Beck’s videos a lot recently at first the blonde was searching for information, then, to find a flaw to criticize with Chloe, but sooner rather than later Poppy found out… Beck was actually a really good musician, so sometimes when she was completely sure she was alone she’d listen to their songs while doing cardio or homework or whatever she was doing. “I was wondering where you found the location.”

“Yes… but also no. I mean, I do the videos here, but I have an audio booth upstairs. It’s actually a quiet neighborhood so it came in handy.” Beck took off their jacket, reaching out their hand to ask for Poppy’s. They both were wet, but not a lot, her shoes survived perfectly because they entered the house before a loud thunder sounded, followed by a deluge. “Damn, we do really dodge a bullet out there.”

“Yeah.” Poppy said, hugging herself. Without her coat, she felt a little cold. “Do you own this place?”

"No, this is my uncle’s." Beck whispered with reverence and a sad smile on their face. "My dad's little brother. He passed away."

"I— I'm sorry, Beck…" she managed to say, clueless about what exactly would someone do in this kind of situation.

"I didn't remember much about him, but my mom says he used to make these guitars out of plastic bottles as gifts for me to play them. She said I would go to the kitchen and play one for her to hear. She also said the sound was awful and she begged him to stop making them." Beck's smile was soft, turning on the heating, proud even though they were chuckling a little, spreading the same smile to Poppy. " 'I'm telling you, this little pal has talent.' he would say."

"Sounds to me like he made it to annoy your mom instead." Poppy said jokingly.

"Totally, he was a prankster." Beck replied, the emotions coming out from their eyes were difficult to tell. "And was one of the few dudes back at Farmsville that didn't want to settle down. The black sheep in every family… and the reason why my parents didn't want me to be here." Beck clutched their jaw, walking away from there to the kitchen. Poppy followed them in silence, feeling like it was something very private for Beck, seeing that vulnerable side of them again, but not hiding this time. "He was murdered years ago here in New York in a shooting. In Farmsville shootings don’t happen, so… They said it was dangerous going out of the farm to the big cities. That he brought this on himself... Took this out of the wrong way." The anger in Beck's voice was palpable in the air.

"Seriously? How can they be so selfish?" Poppy asked, how can someone be so fucking self-centered and dumbass to take a tragedy and blame it on one family member? She thought these things happened exclusively around that bunch of tight-ass people inside her parents’ social circle, but not inside a family farm.

"Back at home is different from here. Is a small town where everyone knows each other. They love routine and hard work and the good customs and shit… So when anyone goes against it… well— it's not funny."

Something clicked inside Poppy's mind.

"But then… How are you here?" Beck smiled but it didn't reach out to their sad eyes.

"Because I almost got killed."

Shock. Poppy couldn't help but feel agitated, her heart pounding loud against her chest and that same protective feeling that almost made her stab Bennett crawled its way towards her own core.

"What?" Poppy babbled, froze. Beck shrugged, with a weird grin as if they didn't know where to start, they caressed their neck, searching for the better way to put the puzzle together. They reach out for Poppy's hand, and she took it right away intertwining her fingers with Beck's.

"Coffee?" They asked. "It seems we will be stuck in here for a while.”

"It sounds nice." The words abandoned her mouth so fast that she even surprised herself, another red alarm ringed inside her mind, but now was not the time, so she ignored it again. Beck smiled and turned on a little coffee maker, bringing two mugs in silence. They both sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch, Beck’s eyes were attentive at the black drink and the tension was still over their shoulders, she could see it so easily that Poppy wished for someone to take that weight out of Beck, so she took both cups and put them aside, sitting over Beck’s lap and intertwining her fingers with theirs, playing with them. Beck smiled a little and took a deep breath.

"I started to realize something was off inside of me when I was in high school. I mean, ‘till that day I was considered normal. I was the kind of child that played sports, climbed trees, and did hard work gladly. You know, average farm kid." Beck said, but even as they seemed to be calm, Poppy could feel the sweat in their palm, and a little shivering all over their body. "But I grow older and changes came, and puberty and—"

"Hey" Poppy stopped them from talking faster and faster. "You don't have to"

"I want to. " Beck interrupted, begging Poppy with their eyes. "I want you to know my past. I mean… if you want me to tell you, that is."

Poppy could have thought anything at that moment. She could have thought that she made it, that she had accomplished her very goal and knew she was about to have first-hand information to use against Farmsville, that she was spectacular for making it this far. She could have thought that now nobody would take her number one spot from her, or that she loved to have a new puppy to use in any way she wanted. But no.

All in what she could think about was Beck's heart opening up to her, trusting her for real this time. The connection intertwining both of them in a way that made her skin chill. Third alarm, but she muted it again.

"So? What are you waiting for? Go on." Poppy rolled her eyes, Beck had a goofy expression for a couple of seconds until Poppy smiled, squishing slightly their hands for reassurance. Beck's eyes glowed happily in which was the cutest gesture Poppy saw from someone that wasn't a dog in her entire life.

"I managed to handle myself a little for a while, but it definitely didn't last long. I was so afraid, I felt lost, and insecure. I didn’t know what was happening to me, why did I feel that way, trapped in my own skin... I stopped having friends because everyone could see how weird I was and nobody wanted to talk to me, except for this one girl: Bree Matthews."

Beck’s jaw tightened, their eyes wandering all over the place because of the nervousness.

“So, Bree and I started to hang out. Chill some time round. We were close, I mean, really, really close. She was the one who I told about my dysphoria first, and she was totally supportive. She helped me understand what I was going through, sometimes she would borrow her brother’s old clothes to give them to me and helped me pick my very first short haircut. Bree was my safe space in a town where I’d be mistreated just to use a bathroom. I kinda felt for her… so one night into the forest I kissed her. And~ it wasn’t a good idea.”

“What happened?”

“Well~ Daniel and his gang came into the picture and intimidated her, so she sold me as a pervert, a weirdo, among other… awful things. Can’t blame her, Daniel was a wrecked truck whenever he wanted so… yeah. My family found me eight hours after, all beat up from head to toes. I was unconscious and with an actually broken rib.” Beck tried to joke, but it was so bad at timing it actually made it worse for Poppy to hear. “I~ I almost die.” Beck sighed, as if with that they could put all that behind. “Anyway so she apologized to me through a phone call because she wanted to kiss me too but, you know, shit happens; I got better and now I’m in New York doing what I love so… Happy ending, right? It was funny, they didn’t let me use the bathroom but they all thought I was “male enough” to beat the crap out of me ever since.”

Poppy stopped playing with Beck’s hands, making them do the same. They told the end of the story so lightly as if they were talking about a T.V. show they just watched and not some really cruel harassment they went through for a long time. The strawberry blonde was a lot of things, bad things, but the things that beast did to Beck just because of their dysphoria? That was a whole new level that Poppy would never stoop into.

“How can you joke about things like that?”

“Well, I figured I had two ways to address the problem: Being insecure or making the most out of this. That’s why I do music. Yeah, my songs don’t talk about the transgender community directly, but I make sure everybody knows who am I. What I am. I write songs for people out there that feel just the same as I do. Not only transgender people, but the whole LGBTQ+ also needs representation! Folks having their back! And if I can reach at least one soul and show them that no matter how they were born, they can make it… Hell, I could die happily.”

The fire in their eyes, the passion radiating strongly from their body, from their words. It was impossible for Poppy to look away from Beck. Of course, Beck didn’t care about a spot in the T list, or and stupid award. Beck was more into their music, making their voice be heard. That was why they did claim to care less about competition, Beck was climbing their way to the top because of their conviction and resilience. It was curious how the more she learned about Beck, the more she felt drawn to them.

“You are so brave, do you know that?”

“And it only took me a delicate rib and trust issues.” Beck claimed proudly as if it was a bargain.

“Trust issues? Beck, you’re one of the most confident people l know!” They began to laugh, the blonde could feel their laughter below her because of the slight belly-shaking. “It’s irritating.”

“I am really amazing myself.” Poppy rolled her eyes at the flirty smirk Beck flashed towards her. “But I’m not insecure about myself… most of the time. I do have a hard time trusting in people. I mean, Daniel didn’t have a hold on me… Bree, on the other hand…” Beck shrugged. “But I do trust you, Poppy.”

Something inside the blonde felt off, those words accompanied by that good-natured smile made Poppy feel a bit guilty. Like, yeah, she was just trying to archive exactly that for her own benefit, it should feel like a win, right? But no.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, yet.” She said to herself. “For all we know, this is just some casual date.”

Maybe… give up? Maybe actually try and date Beck?

What could possibly go wrong?

“I trust you too, Beck.” She replied without a doubt. So she tossed her golden locks over one shoulder, leaning down to kiss Beck’s lips. She soon felt them kissing her back, sweetly, calmly at first but then it was obvious they both needed more than that. Poppy let go of Beck’s hands to place hers in their Beck, while they grabbed her by the waist. The heat soon took over her body, especially after they responded to it by biting Poppy’s bottom lip, making her moan. Poppy knew right away there was a change in Beck’s behavior, they were more confident, more secure, they actually felt ready and she had to say, that was a very welcome and pleasing development. But they were shaking still.

“What 's wrong? You don’t want to—?”

“No. No, it 's not it. It 's just…” Beck took a deep breath avoiding Poppy's gaze for a second before looking at her pleading while keeping hold on her. “I don’t want you to see me differently when you look at what I have beneath the clothes.” They confessed.

“I won’t. I promise.” She said, caressing the hair in the back of their nape. “This is just you, with all letters.” She smirked, trying to lighten the mood and she succeeded. Beck grinned from ear to ear, relieved, kissing her passionately, hungry and the Poppy did the same, tasting their tongue with hers. The caresses between the two became more intense and she couldn’t stand the fever growing anymore, so she took the edges of their favorite black t-shirt and pulled up, revealing Beck torso for the very first time.

She understood right away what Beck meant. Cutting through their chest there it was a thin, darker line, a scar that was slowly healing, but nevertheless it was there easy to pinpoint. It was strange, she had seen a lot of those mastectomy scars on google but Beck chest looked different somehow, strong, gym crafted, and the scar actually was interesting, sexy even.

“I don’t know what you were so scared of, Hughes. Hell, you’re hot as fuck, I hate you.”

Beck chukled, their confidence coming back.

“Yeah, well… There is not an ugly part on this body afterall.” They grinned.

“I’m going to erase that obnoxious smirk of yours.”

“You will?” Beck grabbed a hold on Poppy’s hair and pulled slightly but demanding backwards, exposing her neck to them to kiss and lick, causing a shaking sigh that turned the heat even higher for both. “Show me then.” They whispered over her skin, their breath brushing bristling her body.

Poppy pushed them down on the couch, kissing them hardly. This was war now, and she would definitely win.

----

Next

#my writing #poppy min sinclair #queen b choices #poppy x mc #choices stories you play #choices #choices poppy #bea hughes #mc x poppy #beck hughes #choices queen b mc #trans #ftm

[betweenlands]

abridged masterpost of all currently relevant Alexes (in alphabetical order)

501479/Graphite: from an SCP AU. Euclid-class skip with the ability to see their “endpoint” as determined by their own actions. snarky and blunt.

Alexis Leonne: from a New Albion AU. Era 3 Voodoopunk that pals around with the Blood Red Dogs a lot. the Eternal Song’s #1 cultist. would stab without warning and would stab as a warning.

Alexine: Risk of Rain/Space Outlaws. sometimes, uh, your soul gets split in half because you killed God, and then the other eldritch abomination you’re attached to stitches you back together anyway? yeah. it’s… it’s fine, just don’t ask them to sing.

Angel: original body got possessed by an alien. then the alien got possessed back. he’s having a bad time. none of the other Alexes will help him, which like, to be fair, he did possess someone. however he is also in pain.

Conductor: Metal Demons AU! is a copper demon and is currently Alexis’s #1 target for being bothered. nobody will believe that a human is breaking into their apartment and fucking with them, for obvious reasons. has a somewhat messed-up eye and one of their horns is broken.

DJ: from a Danganronpa AU. jackass who Alexis tricked into basically murdering a bunch of people in order to give them a “unique timeline.” he’s what would happen if you put a Danganronpa antagonist in the Zero Escape setting. he’s not doing great mentally.

Fyer: from an urban magic AU, full name Alexander Fyer. sold his ability to have a destiny to the fae in order to get out of the whole Eternal Song thing. capable of fucking around and finding out to an immense degree. has like two friends and would commit murder for them without hesitation.

Goose: wanted to avoid the usual issue with the Eternal Song, decided the best way to do this would be to go to something that outranks it. currently works for the Primordial Malevolence, god of decay, inevitability, and the Betweenlands. they’re having a great time in the swamp actually.

Haunt: from the Fallen London AU, full title is the Song-Haunted Archaeologist. used to have Alexis stalking him non-stop and then the guy who assassinated him (temporarily) that one time showed up and stabbed her through the heart. claims he can smell the Neathbow.

Lex: is not and will never be an Alex, please disregard. works for the RSC in dimensional destruction as a “janitor.” cold-hearted bastard, but not entirely lacking morals altogether. work friends with Redtree.

Redtree: leader of the Hopperhawks (specifically Team 10B), a group of dimensional archaeologists. a very competent bear who has some history with the other Alexes, but is not connected to the Eternal Song as of some event called Incident Rhododendron, the details of which are classified. would look a god in the eye and tell it to fuck off. has done this.

#txt #solarg #orig #solar scraps

[passionate-reply]

Alright, that’s enough talking about albums people have heard of. It’s time for Great Albums to start getting obscure! Find out why Thomas Leer’s The Scale of Ten is the best industrial-sophistipop fusion album you’ve probably never heard of. Transcript below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! So far in this series, I’ve talked about a lot of widely beloved and classic electronic albums. But I’ve always intended for Great Albums to encompass any and all albums that I, personally, consider “great.” Today, I’m going to be discussing a pretty obscure album and artist for the first time: this is Thomas Leer’s The Scale of Ten.

Thomas Leer got his start as an industrial musician--and about as close to the source as you get, releasing his first full-length LP on Throbbing Gristle’s private label, Industrial Records, in 1979. That album was The Bridge, a collaboration with Robert Rental, and its minimal, distorted drones sound like a lot of other 70s industrial.

Music: “Connotations”

Leer’s early work was underground, but by the time of The Scale of Ten, he had shifted directions, and was actually angling for mainstream pop success.

Music: “Heartbeat”

There are lots of artists who have attempted to make the leap from underground darling to synth-pop star, and Leer was probably one of the least successful at doing that. “Heartbeat” is dying to be a hit single, and it gets priority billing as the opening track of the second side. It’s this awkward breed of “industrial pop,” where a harsh, mechanical screech meets a basic love lyric. I’m sure it’s somewhat unintentional how strident the backing track for this song is, but while it makes the song impossible to parse as pop, I actually enjoy it and think it gives the track a lot of character. You often hear people say, “there’s no such thing as objectively bad music...EXCEPT for music that doesn’t achieve what is intended by the artist.” I have to disagree with that, because I think a track like “Heartbeat,” that fails at being a pop song in a unique and interesting way, is pretty enjoyable to listen to.

Part of the reason why tracks like “Heartbeat” do sound a bit more pop than The Bridge is actually technology. The Fairlight CMI, featured in full force on The Scale of Ten, brought synth and sampling to a wider audience with its relative accessibility, and its softer, more “breathy” sound is now strongly associated with the rash of very commercial synth-pop that came to dominate the charts in the mid and late 80s. Leer got his hands on this when it was new, before a lot of these trends had settled in, and he used this technology in uncanny and unprecedented ways.

Music: “Lust For Loneliness”

But not everything you hear on this album is so strongly dominated by electronics. The pseudo-title track “Number One,” a veritable “ear worm” if I’ve ever heard one, features an abundance of traditional instruments like horns and strings. They were actually arranged by Anne Dudley, famous for her work with the Art of Noise and other production work alongside Trevor Horn. Against this lush, orchestral backdrop, Leer is far from a suave crooner--instead, his thin, nasal vocals seem woefully inadequate to express what he’s getting at. But, as with “Heartbeat,” that incompetence makes this track interesting. I think Leer’s cracking, withered voice comes across as everymannish, and perhaps vulnerable, in contrast to these very slick sophisti-pop instrumentals.

Music: “Number One”

While the frailty of Leer’s voice in “Number One” seems to bring an unintended pathos to it, The Scale of Ten is not without more deliberately ironic compositions. “International,” not to be confused with the similarly-named B-side of Leer’s first single, “Private Plane,” delivers us a peaceful, dreamy soundscape. But taking a closer listen to some of its lyrics reveals that that ultra-polished sound conceals a darker secret: the narrator of this song appears to be smuggling drugs.

Music: “International”

The album title The Scale of Ten appears to be a reference to the lyrics of “Number One.” Given that that track is single bait, it seems plausible that the album was named after its secondary lyric chiefly for marketing purposes--though the fact that it also has exactly ten tracks is somewhat satisfying.

I was initially pretty unimpressed with the cover design. Leer is a good-looking guy and all, but this weird close-up of him staring at us seems like an odd choice. It’s kind of grown on me, though, in a “kitsch chic” kind of way. It wasn’t until I owned this album on vinyl that I realized there’s a bit of an old-fashioned television display effect overlaid onto this image, which does add some subtle, additional visual interest, and makes it feel like some sort of candid surveillance footage or something.

For all of its faults, The Scale of Ten hardly put an end to Thomas Leer’s pop ambitions, and his greatest success in this style was yet to come. Several years later, he would form a bona fide synth-pop duo, with Propaganda frontman Claudia Bruecken. As “Act,” the two of them achieved some minor success--more acclaim than Leer had as a solo artist, anyway.

Music: “Snobbery & Decay”

Following the Act era, Leer would retire from making music for the next several decades. In the past few years, however, he’s returned to music, releasing some of his archival tapes from the 70s and 80s for the first time, as well as putting together some new compositions, playing with electronics, lounge music, and traditional pop influences.

My favourite track on The Scale of Ten, and one of my very favourite songs of all time, is its stunning opener, “Searcher.” Moreso than anything else on this album, “Searcher” really delivers on the premise of “industrial pop,” combining that soft, fluttering Fairlight-heavy sound with dejected vocals narrating a trip through an urban blight-scape. There’s even a fake-out ending! “Searcher” is just unlike anything else, on this album, or otherwise--it’s like a window into an alternate world, a completely different approach to the core ideas of industrial that has almost nothing in common with the rhythm-heavy “electronic body music” of the Continent. That’s all I have for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Searcher”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #thomas leer

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and the Beast of New York - Ch. 4

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

Wherefore Art Thou My Fair Juliet?

“Future Mrs. Rogers, huh?”

Steve looks up from the manifest in his hand with a shy smile. “Well, um,-”

“Save it, punk,” Bucky stopped him. Steve raised a brow at him, trying to read him. Bucky smirked devilishly. “She’s cute.”

“Back off she’s mine,” Steve said playfully, leaning back in his office chair and hooking his leg over the other.

“Sure about that?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, pulling a chair back to take a seat. “I don’t think she really likes you.”

“What would make you say that?”

“Well for starters she called you a dirty, ugly mobster,” Bucky recalled.

“Ain’t she the cutest?” Steve chuckled like a child.

“Steve, that’s not how it works.”

“Okay, so she’s a bit brash,” Steve said sitting up. “Nothing wrong with that. I like that. Think it’s really hot.” Bucky nodded not really knowing how to reply to that. “I really think she likes me, Buck, we really connected at the museum.”

“The museum?”

“Yeah, that’s where I met her first.” Steve informed, “on Saturday.”

“She likes art then?” Bucky asked.

Steve shakes his head with a smile, his thoughts returning to that day. “Not at all. She’s a dunce when it comes to art. But don’t get me wrong she’s really smart. She’s one of those science nerds.”

“How lovely,” Bucky said, resting the side of his face in his hand while leaning on the desk. “What’s her name again? Rosy?”

“No that’s not her real name,” Steve replied. “That’s just what I call her.”

Bucky furrows his brows. “Then what’s her real name?”

A sudden realization comes to him. He sits straight with a blank expression. “I don’t know…”

Bucky’s head dips with a tired sigh. Steve could have been his best friend. He could’ve been the man with over half of New York under his control. He was the most brilliant mind in the business world - legal and illegal. But when it came to the dating scene, he was a total dud. A simpleton. A hopeless romantic and hopeless in all things regarding romance.

“So let me get this straight,” Bucky said with his hands. “You spent an entire morning with this chick. Supposedly had a “connection” with her but you didn’t have the decency to introduce yourself?”

“It was a complicated morning,” Steve retorted. “I didn’t even have my morning coffee.”

“That’s no excuse!” Bucky replied. “No wonder she hates you.”

“She doesn’t hate me.”

“Yeah, uh-huh, whatever you say ugly, dirty mobster.”

Steve huffs with his lips in a frown. “She was just a little freaked out, is all! I mean it’s not every day you witness a violent shakedown. You guys overdid it.” Steve crossed his arms.

Bucky looks at the man incredulously. “You told us to show the kid what a Brooklyn beating looks like.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to go overboard,” he retorted. “You scared the poor girl. There’s just so much a pretty heart like that can take. You dirty ugly mobster. How could you?”

“Oh please forgive me,” Bucky sassed, sinking in his seat.

The two sit in silence for a few minutes. Steve sat with a frown on his face. How could he have been so stupid? Why didn’t he ask for your name? No wonder you thought he was a creep. You probably thought he was just trying to get into your pants.

Steve, you stupid man, can’t you do anything right?!?!

“So what’re you gonna do now?” Bucky breaks the silence.

Steve looks up at him with a sad pout. A light in his brain flips on and his frown turns upside down. “You’re gonna find out who she is.”

“What?” Bucky said, hurling himself forward. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Steve smiled. “You’re gonna find out who she is and tell me. It’s your new job.”

“That’s not in my contract.” Bucky retorted.

“Yeah, well now it is,” Steve replied, gathering his things. “Take Sam and the kid with ya.”

“Are you nuts?” Bucky roared. “There’s no way we can do that! There’s like a billion girls in the city!” He exclaimed, waving his arms around. “It’ll take years!”

But there’s only one Rosy. Steve thought to himself with a far-off look.

Steve smirks as he gets up. He walks past his friend and opens the door, his keys dangling in his hand. “Then I guess you better get started.”

You walked down the sidewalk, your hair fluttering in the air and clothes clinging to your body with your arms tightly wrapped around the textbook in your hand bracing yourself from the cold winter air.

Your thoughts were stuck in the clouds making you feel out of breath and slightly dizzy. They were thoughts of a certain mobster hottie. They weren’t romantic thoughts per se. More like a mixture of confusion and fear.

Who would’ve thought the harmless freak from the museum would end up being the most dangerous man in the city. But then again, not everything was as it seemed. Your thoughts were wrapped in him. How sweet and sassy he was at the museum and how different he was at the cafe.

His eyes were cold and his aura was intimidating, but quickly switched to flirty and sweet when he saw you. That was what scared you the most.

So absorbed in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the urban decay surrounding you. The decrepit pavement that looked as if it was slammed with a sledgehammer. The once perfect and smooth concrete was now broken into a network of cracks, many of them colonized by weeds.

So wrapped up in the way his eyes twinkled and smile shined, you forgot where you were going or who was around you. People were walking by, heads topped with wool hats and bodies wrapped in uncomfortable layers of flannel and duffel. There was a boy that was walking home with you, who just so happened to notice you weren’t listening to him and he found it very annoying.

“Y/N?” Quentin called. “Y/N? Earth to moron! Y/N!” he shakes his hand in front of your face.

“Huh?”

“You weren’t listening to me,” he frowned.

“I was,” you lied.

“Then what did I say?”

You smiled sheepishly and he rolled his eyes.

“My roommate’s going out of town this weekend and I was wondering if you wanted to come over? We can order a pizza and study for ochem? Maybe play some Gears?”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” you agreed with a smile.

Quentin smiles in excitement, his grip on his bag tightening. It’s been a while since the two of you had a study date.

“What’s with you?” he changes the topic. “You’ve been out of it lately.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured.

“No you’re not,” he deadpanned.

“I’m just tired,” you replied. “That’s all.”

“Something tells me it’s not,” he said. “Call it my “best friend since sixth grade” sixth sense.”

You chuckled at him. You’ve known Quentin for a really long time. He was the first person to accept you.

You didn’t have the best school experience. While other girls found sweet love notes in their lockers you found scraps of paper telling you to kill yourself, that you were the ugliest girl in school. No one wanted to be your partner in gym class. No one asked you out to a homecoming dance or invited you to sit with them during lunch.

You were unwanted and alone and learned to accept it. If your own parents didn’t accept you then why would anyone else?

That was until you met Quentin. He asked to sit next to you in science class on his first day and you were speechless when he did. It only got better as the days went by. He sat with you during lunch. He made you laugh in the library until the librarian kicked you out. He made you feel wanted and special.

“Well?” he called you back. “You gonna tell me?”

“It’s nothing,” you assured.

“Y/N,” he doted like a father.

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t quit until you told him. The grip on your book tightens as you shrink into your scarf.

“I met this guy,” you confessed with a light blush.

Quentin chuckles at your cute behavior, but for some reason, it hurts a little. “That’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not good.”

He raises a brow. “Why not?”

“Because he’s bad,” you told him.

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“He’s bad.”

“Bad in like he’s hot?”

“No!” you replied quickly. Well,…he was hot. “I’m talking about the other kinda bad.”

Quentin chuckles. “I didn’t know you were into bad boys,” he wiggled his brows.

“It’s not like that!”

“Then what is it like?”

“I don’t know…bad,” you reiterated. You didn’t really want to give him the details. He’d only worry, possibly scold you for talking to strangers, and you really didn’t need that right now. “He’s nice just a bit…strange.”

“Want me to kick someone’s ass?” he asked.

You shake your head with a chuckle. “No, not yet. I think I can handle it.”

Quentin frowns a bit, but you didn’t really notice. He didn’t like how vague you were being or how the idea of some guy bothering you was stuck in his head now. But he didn’t show it. You were strong and knew how to take care of yourself. He knew how much you liked your space. But even then, it didn’t stop him from worrying. It didn’t stop him from wishing you’d open just a bit after all these years. He never told you that though. He always had a way of hiding his feelings when it came to you.

Your lips slanted into a downward curve and brows furrowed in concentration. Quentin wraps an arm around your shoulders, shaking you out of your daze. You turn to look at him and he has a wide smile on his face.

“Come on, let’s go get some coffee,” he said.

“I’m broke at the moment,” you reminded him.

“On me then,” he offered, “we gotta get you back down to earth.”

You chuckled following him. He always had a way of making you feel better.

“Man this is the stupidest shit I’ve ever done,” Sam groaned.

“Not as stupid as the time you licked that water pipe in ten-degree weather,” Bucky stated.

“In my defense, I was drunk off my ass.”

“You actually did that,” Peter asked from the back of the car. “Wow, even I’m not that stupid.”

Sam turned around to glare at the boy. Peter melted into the leather seat in fear.

“Why did we bring him with us?”

“Steve said so,“ Bucky answered, lighting up a cigarette.

Sam groaned loudly. "First we get stuck with this horrible job then we gotta drag the kid with us. He’ll just slow us down!"

"I’m faster than you, Grandpa,” Peter sassed making Bucky snort with the stick in his mouth.

“It’s taking every ounce of goodness in me to not beat the crap out of you right now,” Sam told him.

“That’s child abuse and I’ll report you."

Sam faces forwards, murmuring under his breath. "I will not kill the kid. I will not kill the kid."

"Hey, Pete, wanna smoke?” Bucky asked, pointing the box towards him.

“Sure,” he reached out for one.

Bucky smacks him on the back of the head. “Don’t even think about, punk, you’re underage."

"Then why’d you offer?” Peter asked annoyed, rubbing the back of his head.

“I was testing ya,” Bucky replied. “And now that I know, if I catch you smoking I’m kicking your butt. You hear that?"

"Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?"

"Yes sir,” Peter corrected himself. The boy leaned against the car door, peeking out the window watching pedestrians walk by. “Uh, Sir?"

"What is it, kid?” Sam asked.

“If we’re supposed to find some girl shouldn’t we be outside? Why are we sitting in the car?"

It’s quiet for a minute. Peter raises a brow at the two.

"It’s cold outside,” Bucky confessed.  

Peter’s lips parted slightly in shock. Some ruff-n-tuff mobster you are.

“I mean do you really want to go searching for the girl?” Sam asked him. “We’ll just sit around for a while and tell the big guy we can’t find her."

"But that’s not honest!” Peter sits up, squeezing into the small space between them.

Bucky laughs at him. “This is the mob, kid, honesty doesn’t exist around here."

Peter frowns and crosses his arms while sitting back. "It’s still wrong. The boss really likes this girl. Shouldn’t we help?"

"We’ll be helping him by not finding the girl,” Sam informed. “Trust us when we say that the boss’ had his fair share of heartbreak. The last thing he needs is another girl."

"What do you mean?"

"It’s a long story,” Bucky tried to change the topic. “I’ll tell you some other time. But don’t go blabbin’ to the boss that we told you that. Ya hear?"

Peter nodded in curiosity. The mob boss was suffering from heartbreak?

"Holy shit, Buck, it’s her!” Sam exclaimed, pointing out the windshield.

Bucky almost drops his cigarette in surprise. “Oh my god, what do we do?"

"Get out of the car, we can’t lose her!” Sam shouted, opening the door to his side.

“I thought you said we weren’t going to find her."

"She’s right there, Pete, we can’t just let her go,” Bucky said, getting out of the car. “Now get out of the damn car!"

Peter gets out of the car with a groan. These two were beyond confused and now they were getting him confused.

"Now what do we do?” Peter said, feeling stupid by just being next to the two.

“Uhm,” Bucky thought. He pushes Peter in your direction. “Go talk to her.”

“What!? Why me?!” Peter questioned.

“Because…” Sam started. “This is…this is your initiation into the gang."

"Yeah, that’s what this is,” Bucky pointed up. “Now hurry up before she gets away."

"You’re just pulling that out of your ass!” Peter retorted. “I’m not gonna go talk to some girl I’ve never met before. That’s weird."

"Listen, punk, you either do it or you’re dead,” Sam threatened. “I don’t think you’ve seen what a real Brooklyn beating looks like."

Peter gulps. He turns to see you and a boy walking away, slowly fading from his view.

"What’s it gonna be then?"

"Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” Peter assured. He turned on his heel, his steps getting wider to catch up. “Lazy ass mobsters,” he grunted.

“I heard that asshole!"

TAGLIST: @ashwarren32​ @rootcrop​ @siriusement​ @savedbystark​ @little-dark-empress​ @great-goddess-of-sin​ @boxofteenageideas​ @imsonick​ @scuzmunkie​ @achishisha​ @calwitch​ @chuckennuggets1213​

A/N: Hi, i tagged everyone from my old taglist as well. hope that isn’t a problem. I’m up to date with chapters prior to deleting so next chapter will be new for the old tagged people. Have a nice day! 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mob!steve #steve rogers imagine #mafia!steve #mob!steve rogers x reader #mobster steve rogers x reader