#spooky man in a suit playing piano | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Mc being super drunk and dragging Cecelia to dance with her. At first Cecelia is worried about MC but ends up having fun dancing with her and enjoys her flirty drunk personality. At the end of the night, MC sinks into Cecelia’s embrace as they slow dance

Written by: @evoedbd

The Saloon was alive. The throbbing heartbeat of the sleepy little town, Wisp Willow. As the sun sulked, and the moon reigned, the Saloon roused. Even the most straight laced of folk came in from the unforgiving cold, lured in by the smell of fine food, of cigar smoke and leather. Of a home away from the homes many had left for their new start out in the Devil’s Backbone. People sat in clusters around their tables, laughter and chatter floating on a tide of wistful piano notes or a swish of Ada’s skirts. Some danced to the jolly jigs, kicking their heels and trying not to entomb their spurs in the floorboards in their drunken staggering. The sound of boots across the floor only added a beat, an intimacy to the din. Din which flittered by those seated around a table in the corner, just to the left of the door. The table with the greatest vantage point.

An odd bunch they were, none looking like another. No rhyme or reason as to why they’d be seated together, let alone throwing coin with laughter and barbs of their own. Yet not one person in that Saloon, dead drunk or stone cold sober, would deny how intimate the table was. How comfortable they were with one another. They shared the type of security come from risking life and limb together, they did. The Wardens. Nobody knew just what they did or who they were, precisely, only that even the Sherrif made way for them. That made folks antsy round them. It was safer to avoid that type of crowd when possible. Less complications that way. Thus, nobody paid them heed, offering the perfect place to relax and unwind for the unusual crowd.

“Who knew all it takes is a few drinks to make the Moonlit Outlaw play like crap?” At the table, Nathan Cayde’s voice cut above the din, the lilt of his voice strutting through the sound of the upbeat piano.

That earned a huff from Roslyn Arosi, the forementioned Moonlit Outlaw.

Nathan’s earnest glee radiated from him, almost as if he were a cool breeze in the harsh frontier desert. With his lively, deep blue eyes glimmering like a mirage, lips peeled into a good-natured smile. It never ceased to amaze her how he could smile like this, as if his actions weren’t a one-way ticket to disappointment on a bad hoss. Least he wasn’t some yellow belly, the way he gigged up to the table of cheats, seers and demons. Perhaps his ghastly status was enough to earn him some reprise, yet it wasn’t bout to save his dignity. A fact proven by the cackle which came from the impish woman across the table the moment Nathan’s money collided with the wood.

He shook his head, drawing Roslyn’s attention. His wavy locks, one many might be long to cut to lessen such a beautiful man, proved aptly distracting to The Moonlit Outlaw. Lord’s mercy, was it wrong to want to run her fingers through those fine hairs? To see if the beginnings of curls felt as smooth as they looked? It wasn’t like she was fixing for his bed, nor pressed for fine company in said regard, but watching those locks bounce with every tilt of his head, or the broody fix of his chapped lips, roused a curiosity in her drunken state. She watched the ends bounce round his jawline, contrasting the harsh line of his beard. A beard better suited to the Ace-High parts of town, a dab too neat for the rougher parts, but by the devil’s charm did it gruff up Nathan’s otherwise baby like face. For all his chiseled jawline, the grizzled gauntness to his cheeks and heavier brows, his petite little nose added this aspect of utter adorability to the man, enough that the moonlit outlaw found herself fixing to bop it… or maybe poke it? A little pinch to the adorable button?

She settled for a sloppy poke to his cheek, which earned a chorus of amused laughter. Even Roslyn laughed, though, she wasn’t quite sure why. It felt good to laugh with friends, to let go, even with Fiona sitting across the table like a predatory cat ready to devour the mice. Roslyn swore she could almost see a tail swishing, though that might have also been the alcohol flooding her veins.

“Come on, Roslyn. Show us some spark.” If Nathan’s voice had been a strut, Fiona’s goading words were a skip. A teasing, coy swish of skirts and mysterious smile to match the Seer’s very nature. Keen, golden brown eyes twinkled; their brightness only intensified by the smudged, dark eyeshadow. Fiona made no effort to hide her borderline sadistic mirth as she sized up the table, lording her knowledge over them with taps of her armored fingers against the backs of her cards and a subtle glint of teeth in an overly satisfied smirk, added to a subtle downturn of a pointed chin to her collar; a demure little jest between those at the table. The almost childish image of braids peeping from beneath her hood added to long with the tufts of an unevenly cut fringe, didn’t detract from the spooky allure. Here she was, optimism and mischief, cheekiness and mysterious magnetism set upon an undercurrent of a mournful disconnect, all wrapped into a woman strutting a line between adorable and sexy with an element of spook that set many hearts fluttering. Of course, butterflies did nothing to soften the downright wicked grin as Fiona continued tapping, a subtle reminder to all that the only other human at the table held the future in her palms. Was savoring her victory, toying with everyone there like an adolescent cat having found a wayward old mouse.

“She’s saving it for her bed tonight.” Sascha purred, the wicked upturn of his lips leaving nothing to speculation when it came to the meaning of his words. As always, his voice was almost liquid sex, a dose of lust accompanying his crude observation. Roslyn could almost feel heated breath across her ear, the seduction in the words translated directly to her soul, drawing out every memory of what could follow. His little trick radiated through the room, had women shuffling awkwardly in their seats, men clearing their throats just a tad too loudly as they tugged at their neck ties. Even the pianist stuttered, a key pressed a tad too roughly, slipped off.

A mood killer if ever there was one. Roslyn flinched, hand tipping for the briefest moment. Enough for Sascha to get a glance of her cards, she wagered.

Sascha Orosco looked far too pleased with himself as he slouched back in his chair, fixing the table with one of his feline grins. An expression designed to be kissed away, hard and demanding. All lust and unquenched heat. A devil’s snare if ever there was one. Not that a jawline stronger than a king’s military didn’t help, nor those high cheekbones, sharp enough to cut yourself on. He was the type of man momma told you not to run off with, the type who promised to leave you ruined by the time he burned through you… but being burned was too much a thrill to ignore.

“A chance to play to the gallery? I’d love to” The witch retorted, words slurring together a little. She had to pretend not to notice the ripple of concern travel throughout the group. The guilt briefly illuminating Sascha’s magenta eyes. Darn it all, she hadn’t meant to find herself so deep in cups, hells bells, she’d even partaken of less than her usual amount. She never should have listened to Sascha, have branched from her usual poisons. She may be a woman of many, many vices, but her vices were all kept rightly in check. If not by her own efforts, then by her partner’s. When working alongside the Desert Rose of the Devil’s Backbone, one learned quickly to keep their wits about them.

Her lips twitched. She was always aware of the regal vampire’s presence. The untamed beauty. A queen of the night, much like the Queen’s in a few hands. It was easy to imagine Cecelia’s face upon those cards, fangs and bloodied butterflies, sharpness nipping at the fingers touching her, or a blow to Nathan’s boots. His grunt was enough for Roslyn’s magic to spark, to bring about the drunken images of dancing numbers, of beating hearts and digging spades. Effortless. A breath. A laugh at the startled faces of her competitors, except Fiona. The mystic was too busy smiling like a cat who’d just lapped up the last of the cream.

“Ahhh.” The seer began, her voice amazingly bored. A dexterous flick of her wrist had her cards spraying across the table, a pair of aces hiding amongst them, to land directly in front of a grumbling Nathan.

“Well… I fold.” Fiona’s casual surrender was delivered with a perfectly innocent shrug. Roslyn’s eyes narrowed. Even sunken to the ocean floor, she could read that something was… off? It wasn’t her hood. Perhaps pantihose? No, somehow Fiona didn’t seem the sort to be reactive to that kind of thing. Or rather, not reactive in this way… With her dress being so short, wouldn’t everyone know if she was taking command of her nethers?

“Say what now?” Nathan gaped; his eyes fixed on her cards for a split second before shifting back to her face.

“I thought you were using your gifts to win, not buy all my expensive drinks.” Roslyn’s barb was met with a chuckle from the table, along with another innocent gesture from Fiona… Roslyn wasn’t buying the act. Not for a single second. Not even with Fiona’s money.

“You’re an absolutely delightful drunk, Miss Arosi. A worthy cause to lose a days payment to. I fold.” Sascha purred, his charm laid on thick, complete with a playful wink as he laid his cards down. Roslyn couldn’t relax, couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. Her eyes shifted between smirks, between sly grins exchanged around the table, all the way to Nathan’s grouchy huff.

“You’re not the ones who have to manhandle her and her little demon. I fold.”

“Hold on now!” Roslyn began, hand sliding across the table as she tried to right herself, intent on giving the cowboy a piece of her mind. It failed of course, given the room begun to swim, her chair tilted, until she surrendered to gravity and allowed herself to fall, full bodied onto the table.

“I’m the one roostered one, not Enzo.”

“If I don’t copper my bets, this game will last hours… besides, I foresee you’re going to be busy.” Fiona continued to tease, lifting a hand to dramatically touch the space between her eyes. She acted up the gig, Cheshire smile fixated so firmly in place Roslyn doubted when a herd of mustangs could drag it down. Sascha straightened before she could retort, his eyes shifting to the door, brightening with rich amusement and a deep seeded satisfaction, his need for lust sated for the moment.

“I foresee five foot ten. A rather fetching jawline. A smile sharper than moonlight on a starless night-”

“Cecelia!” Roslyn realized out loud, jerking up in her chair. She didn’t even hear Sascha, nor the table. There was a serenity to the presence approaching her, like the moment one went underwater in a cool, refreshing lake… followed by the hyperawareness of every droplet of water running across one’s skin when they surfaced; the jitters assaulting her in full swing. Those pesky nerves marched down her arms, lifting the hairs in places many might say hairs had no place rising. The moment before lightning sizzled in her veins, even as the breath of calm approached her from behind.

Instinctively, Roslyn turned to that presence, letting her gaze fall upon the Desert Rose.

“I didn’t even get to the marble bust-”

“Have some respect for the woman. She’s your boss!” Nathan’s scolding served as a timely interruption for Sascha’s playful leering. The Demon’s brows ceased wiggling, flicking for a breath before he commented offhandedly.

“I forgot I was drinking with a prude apparition.”

“I’ll give you an apparition.” Nathan grumbled, reaching for his bottle. Bottle? That was a good idea! Her mouth was quite dry after all, her head empty. Where was Roslyn’s drink again? Blindly, she groped around the table for it, only to find the welcoming rasp of well-loved wood.

“Judging by the gleam in your eye, Sascha, Roslyn’s providing quite a soaked feast.” Fiona’s words drew Roslyn’s attention. Damn it, the Seer’s golden eyes had too knowing a glint to them, a cat who’d gotten the cream, complete with a little milk moustache. Sascha wasn’t much better. The Incubas was practically preening as he leaned back in his chair, lazy, Cheshire smirk forming across her unfairly attractive lips.

“Half the patrons are. The Desert rose makes quite an entrance.”

That she did. Even across the room, Cecelia cut an intimidating figure. A blade through the night, straight to Roslyn’s gut. Goddess, Mother of Night, was Cecelia able to make an entrance. Demons strutted, Fiona kind of skipped, Nathan had this floatiness to him. But Cecelia… Cecelia redefined reality. The world existed only to be a backdrop to the Supernatural perfection of every step, smoother than any criminal could hope to be, the perfect predatory stalk reimagined into casual yet purposeful strides… So many conflictions that SHOULDN’T work, but Lord did they work for Cecelia Visconti.

Roslyn was stuck watching, breath catching at each stride, at the flex of those impossibly strong legs clad in form fitting charcoal black trousers. The casual confidence in those strides, the power of those legs… Roslyn had ridden horses with less. The smallest part of sense in her brain warned her to look away, her sluggish body thought that meant down. Straight to the vine engravings across Cecelia’s boots, gold gleaming across chocolate straps, which in turn bound midnight leather… it was a miracle that Roslyn did not collapse to her knees, that she could fight the urge to press her lips to those vines in devotion. Why else did such a perfect being exist if not to be worshipped?

“They damned well better be respectful about their thirsts. Cecelia could rightfully have their heads.” Nathan’s continued griping bought Roslyn a moment of clarity. The entire table could hear the underlying, unspoken threat to Nathan’s statement. That if Cecelia did not claim the heads, that Roslyn might have a collection of balls to kick down the streets. An image which had said Witch snorting before taking another healthy swig of her booze.

“Doubtful she’ll notice when Roslyn’s half seas over. She’ll soak up all of Cece’s attention.” The way Fiona practically purred the last word left very little to the imagination.

“She does seem to have partaken of too much alcohol.” The unmistakable voice of Cecelia Visconti echoed in Roslyn’s ears, serenading her mind in an untouched vault of time for sober her to process later on. This was accompanied by a grounding touch to her far shoulder, the tips of Cecelia’s claws prickling through Roslyn’s cottons. The Witch surrendered to baser instincts, shuddering with delight as she leaned back into the Vampire, head resting against the Immortal’s lace covered shoulder, and downright shamelessly admired Cecelia’s visage.

Cecelia was a beauty unlike any Roslyn had seen. The Vampire was every inch as regal as the Princesses from the worn fairytales tucked away in Roslyn’s rucksack. She was also the mysterious seductive huntress from the penny dreadfuls hiding beneath Roslyn’s pillows. Her lips were fine, bathed in midnight red which stood starkly from skin the delicate shades of fallen snow. Her pale complexion blended the cut of her jaw into the graceful heights of her cheekbones. The faintest dappling of blush concealed that supernatural perfection, blending Cecelia with the land of the mortal living. Even across the room, the deep greens and greys of her garb seemed unable to dull the glorious mane of chestnut, the luxurious hair hanging down below her shoulders… all lost to the devil’s snare of winter greys. Gentle eyes made to appear angular by an overly generous portion of eyeliner and smokey red eyeshadow.

“Or perhaps of a more potent variety. Tricks of an Incubas, perhaps?” Cecelia’s comment was accompanied by an accusatory brow arched in Sascha’s direction. Despite the inconvenience, Cecelia somehow seemed amused, fit to saw the Incubus. A mental game where she was steadily tightening a noose around the Incubus’ throat as she smiled. An undisguised trap she practically dared Sascha to sacrifice himself to, for what she might do if he didn’t simply acknowledge the corn. It seemed Sascha was not willing to take the risk, given his simple response.

“I would be amiss not to slake a lady’s thirst.”

“Slake?” Nathan demanded, laughter dancing beneath his tones.

“More like you aimed to drown her. She’s as full as a tick!”

At the confessions, at her victory, Cecelia seemed to preen. A quiet, subtle shift to how she held her head. She’d had her blood, albeit metaphoric, and was sated for the moment. The quiet tinge of smugness remained as she gathered her chair, and proceeded to ignore how the wood screeched as she dragged it across the floorboards. Even as she gathered her own chair, she never jostled her shoulder, never disrupted Roslyn’s drunken obsession. If anything, the Vampire seemed to encourage it, given the playful flicker of a wink she offered Roslyn once she finally managed to claim her seat.

It was unfair how such a simple expression could have Roslyn’s cheeks flushing with more than the warmth of her booze. How Cecelia’s quiet intensity could shake the Witch’s very foundations, until she had to look down like a blushing maiden. Of course, that meant she was face to bust with Cecelia. Hells Bells, she just wanted a fair shake at seeming like she had a control on her libido.

But how was it a fair shake when said bust was concealed only by see intricately decorated, rose vined lace which left the sharpness of her collarbones exposed like the worst kept, sexiest secret this side of the Devil’s Backbone? Roslyn’s cheeks flushed at the realization that it was not merely the lace panels of her grey button up, but Cecelia’s lacy undergarments that added to the teasing vision. It was only running into the hard edge of grey across the swell of Cecelia’s forementioned bust that broke Roslyn out of her thoughts, and mercifully tore her from the teasing of the black corset defining Cecelia’s boddice.

“Not to worry, miss Visconti, I’ve left a particular thirst for your enjoyment.” The Incubus commented, his pointed gaze fixed out on Roslyn and her current occupation. The entire table shuffled, gazes anywhere but where Roslyn’s was. That didn’t make sense to the drunken Witch. Cecelia was stunning, why ignore that? It wasn’t like Cecelia was hid- oh… Leering wasn’t becoming. But it was Cecelia! Innocently, Roslyn’s gaze rose, meeting Cecelia’s. Amusement twinkled there, the gleam of waves in oceans far deeper than anybody could comprehend. Whatever darkness swum in those depths were known to the depths alone, much like Cecelia’s thoughts. Much like her pains. It may have been the booze talking, or the heat of Cecelia’s gaze, but Roslyn was willing to drown in those depths if only to take a droplet of the pain from Cecelia’s lonesome.

“It seems this Witchling is drawn to things both deadly and beautiful.” Sascha’s words fell un unhearing ears.

“Cecelia, lovely, dance with me!” Roslyn was urging, sacrificing her place of comfort to spring to her feet. She lurched, held only by Cecelia’s gentle arm around her waist. The Witch fell, sprawling into Cecelia’s arms with nothing more than an excited giggle. The vampire’s chest heaved with suppressed laughter, even as those talons came to brush some of Roslyn’s hair away from a clammy forehead. There was such a tenderness to Cecelia’s innocent gesture, something that stole the breath from Roslyn’s chest even as Cecelia’s lower voice came.

“Oh Witchling, I doubt your feet would hold you to these tunes.”

“Don’t worry, Cece,” Fiona began, that mischievous grin coming back tenfold.

“I foresee the music is about to change.”

For a brief moment, Roslyn and Cecelia stared at the seer, both processing her words. The Saloon had fallen quieter, the makeshift dancefloor abandoned as the melancholy notes of the piano rung. It was as if the patrons dared not speak over the beauty, the story each note wove through their ears.

“I suspect this is more foreplaned than foreseen.” The note of skepticism within Cecelia’s voice had the table smiling. Even the lord of disapproval himself seemed to find something endearing about the antics. A series of shared glances and grins launched a silent debate, who would take the fall and who would claim credit. A blink, a shuffle of the cards, a twitch of a brow. The quirk of lips, then a glance towards Kellen. Finally, it was the brave little Seer who spoke up.

“I see the jig is up. Would you deny us our entertainment, Cece?” Fiona wheedled, her eyes large and brimming with their innocence, a display of her deceptive talents. Nathan didn’t even try to put on a puppy face, instead tipping his head in an effort to hide behind his hair. Sasha’s attempt at a convincing face looked more suited to a brothel. Then, there was Kellen.

Concern on his face was… it didn’t belong. The demon’s exotic face was practically carved to express disapproval. From his low set brow resting over the most worn, blazing eyes of literal hellfire, he gauntness to his cheeks which led into the sharp angle of his jaw. Hells Bells, even his lips were the damn poutiest Roslyn had ever laid eyes on. His face was young enough to be brotherly, yet the transition from dark black to frosty white along each tussle of hair gave the salt and pepper look of a father. Double doses of disapproval and disappointment, nuff to drag one’s stomach out their pucker and their heart into their gut. Heck, if his regality didn’t drown you, his dapper stylings were able to remind everyone that he was better. That he was far further refined than any mortal clutching at the nature of sophistication he had in the toes of his boot, nevermind his whole visage.

Why was he concerned now, of all times, for her? They clashed, so violently. He was due process, whereas she was chaos. She was the one who’d swept into town off of theft from murderers, and in turn pocketed their finest Ranger as her partner in, well, law. Criminally amazing law. Right, so she and Visconti also chaffed each other at first, yet how they’d come together as a team was leaving the other Wardens in the dust. They were better, she’d admit that while sloshed. They got things done, they helped PEOPLE as people instead of objectives. Instead of seeing that, Kellan seemed more disturbed that his Ranger was straying from the rigidness he’d shackled her in. Shackled to save… Mother night, it was fucked up. What he’d sacrificed and endured as punishment for revering life.

Cecelia. That was their common ground. Kellan might have been the man to have raised Cecelia, but he was not the one to draw her from her shell. He wasn’t what Roslyn was to the vampire. His presence was order, was the reminder of Cecelia’s indirect imprisonment. Roslyn was chaos. The freedom. Kellan was the ground, where Roslyn was the sky. Cecelia needed both, but for so long she’d been kept on the ground due to the hurricanes in her life. Roslyn refused to lose Cecelia to those hurricanes, just as she refused to accept that Cecelia should never use her wings. Yet, if she were Kellan, she doubted she could let go any easier than he. Kellan was Cecelia’s childhood, when she needed him. Roslyn was Cecelia’s true stride into adulthood, her testing of the shackles the Ward had groomed her to praise. Of all the nights, this was the one where Roslyn was the direction everyone needed Cecelia to step. The fact she lingered… this was way too heavy for her drunken mind to wrangle.

Cecelia’s loud sigh signaled her surrender.

“I suppose a dance in an innocent enough request.”

The table broke into cheers, all save Kellan taking up the encouraging chant.

“Dance. Dance, dance, dance.”

Kellan’s lips merely twitched into an approving line, a sip of his drink concealing the encouraging nod he sent Roslyn’s way. Somehow, her drunken mind latched onto the sense of victory, the acceptable and belonging of a family she’d never truly had. It was enough to make her smile, to lean closer to the cool body she’d been warming. Cecelia, for her credit, remained composed. Quite a feat, given she had a lap full of drunken Witch and a table chanting for her to make a public spectacle of herself right in front of the man who’d raised her. How she was so composed, Roslyn had no idea, only that this was not the night she’d envisioned. She needed to see that youth that immortality had preserved in Cecelia for so long. Needed to see those cheeks flush and that stoic veneer crack.

“Come on, lovely, I know several dances that don’t need any music.” The Witch purred, squirming, wiggling her rump deeper into the cave of Cecelia’s body until she could safely turn. Still, Cecelia barely seemed phased, watched with those gorgeous eyes. What Roslyn wouldn’t do to see the disguise fall way. To see the blood moon of the Visconti vampire. If even for a blink. With two fingers, pointer and middle, Roslyn stroked from the hinge of the jaw, a teasing touch that whispered across chilled flesh and fell from Cecelia’s pointed chin. As if she might wipe away the illusion, to see those terrifying depths. Was it even a case of willingness to drown anymore? Or had it become desire?

“You seem bereft of what little propriety you usually possess, little Witchling.” Cecelia’s response was delivered quietly, the tone relaxed, almost indifferent, save for the smallest catches. What such a tone did not possess was what urged Roslyn to push harder. Dared her, even. Then, there was Cecelia’s hand, lifted to catch hers. The Vampire prevented Roslyn’s second pass at a touch, yet those talons caught the Vampire’s earlobe, tugging it lightly even as she guided Roslyn’s hand down. All Roslyn could do was stare, lose herself in the depths of Cecelia’s eyes once more. Hunting. This was a hunt, the thrill running down Roslyn’s spine. Cecelia, the perfect prey, thus far… but how could a mere mortal hunt immorality? Unless… said immortal was playing the game.

That drew the most unholy of smirks to Roslyn’s face, even as she worked to throw one of her legs over Cecelia’s. Her legs hung, toes swinging, weight supported by nothing save the vampire. Flying and grounded. Earth and sky. Roslyn was the prey, with a hunter gracious enough to allow her dignity. All it would take is one movement, one moment where Cecelia lost herself or lost her patience, and Roslyn would bear the cost. She was so close to the fire, playing with an inferno. She had Cecelia between her thighs, more power than the most expensive stallion from any estate in the east. If Cecelia bucked… The Witch wanted that. She wanted Cecelia to buck, wanted the Vampire to lose her patience, to cling with more than the gentle hands against the curve of her waist.

“You could bereft me of far more, darling.” She purred, letting the huskiness of alcohol sink her voice into the sinful satiny tones. In a motion as smooth as silk, for a drunk at least, Roslyn slunk her arms around Cecelia’s neck, fingers weaving into the vampire’s glorious locks even as she rocked herself closer, leaving no space between herself and Cecelia. She had to cling with her thighs, squeeze the Vampire so she could lift herself out of the chair, to look down at her huntress. The Witch could only swallow, licking her lips before leaning close enough that her next words were only for the Vampire’s delicate ears.

“Then…” The Witch let her breath brush the shell of Cecelia’s ear, the tease of the corner of her mouth adding in as she let her words become heated. The filthiest things, every dark desire, her deepest secrets painted in the most scandalous of tones she could muster. Requests, nay, demands that would have demons blushing. That HAD demons blushing.

“HAH!” Fiona laughed in absolute awe; eyes blown wide. Roslyn’s met hers, the Witch giving that unholy smirk to the Seer for a split second before even Fiona found herself overwhelmed on Cecelia’s behalf.

“Oh hells… please stop.” Nathan groaned desperately, face flushed, eyes haunted. He had to avert his gaze when Roslyn’s teeth closed around Cecelia’s ear.

“Oh, please do continue. This is delightful… is she truly that flexible?” Sascha barked with glee, a glimmer of a demonic tongue brushing across his lower lip. The Incubus fed, eyes seeming to glow as he took in such a potent meal before him, only encouraged by the appearance of little horns peeking from beneath the table.

“According to the Lady’s Arms patrons? My mistress is the most flexible human they’ll ever meet!” Enzo declared almost proudly, earning a few tensed chuckles at the implications of such a statement. Roslyn was far too drunk to care. Lost in alcohol and power, in the game she so desperately needed to win, but so desperately wished to lose. Was there anything but victory from such a game? Something so pure could never be a loss, not for her, not for how the flames were licking up her spine. She could feel it, Cecelia’s composure cracking. It came in the pricks of talons. In the occasional flex between her thighs, something she answered with another dirty line expressing her appreciation. How close could she dance to this fire before it consumed her? It seemed she was never going to find out given the look of horror on Kellan’s face as he finally, FINALLY, spoke up. Given his discomfort, she couldn’t help but silently query if his voice was the only thing rising.

“Cecelia! For the seven layers of hells and every bell that might ring, shut Arosi up! Those of us with fine hearing don’t wish to hear such-”

“I’m sure I can find something to occu-”

Cecelia never let Roslyn finish. Cecelia’s hand came to her jaw, cradling it sweetly even as the pad of her thumb fell tenderly across the Witch’s lips. All it took was a single talon, pressed ever so tenderly to Roslyn’s lips for the Witch to still, to surrender. The moment Roslyn did, Cecelia gently slid her thumb away, caressing the line of Roslyn’s lip then the swell of her cheek, a gesture which stilled Roslyn’s heart.

“Quiet now, Witchling. I’ll give you your desired dance if you cease haunting our ghost. Your brazen attempts to make me blush are for naught.” The Vampire urged, corners of her lips twitching, teasing the smile Roslyn was so devoted to drawing out. The table, the Saloon, the world. Everything in existence needed to see the radiance. Such a small expression, something so simple and true, such beauty it could chase the darkness of evil from the comforting shadows of night.

“Give me an hour.” The Witch said, giving a sloppy waggle of her brows. That did it. Cecelia cracked, lips quirking up into the fondest smirk Roslyn had ever laid eyes on.

“You would be asleep within ten ticks, much less an hour.” Cecelia’s comment was delivered on a smile. Forever gentle hands gathered beneath the Witch’s thighs, holding them steady before Cecelia merely stood up, baring the weight as if it were that of a feather instead of an entire being. For a second, Roslyn simply indulged, smiling peacefully as she leaned her forehead into Cecelia’s collar. She was warmer, warmed by her contact with Roslyn, yet still refreshingly cool, enough that Roslyn could feel her body drooping into the relaxation, a realm of half consciousness and safety. Then Cecelia wasn’t holding her. Falling. She yelped, clawing at Cecelia.

“Careful!” The Vampire was equally as quick. One hand caught beneath her thigh, encouraging the leg around her waist even as the vamp’s other arm wrapped around her torso. Again, she was weightless, held aloft by Cecelia’s strength. Again, she was entangled with the Vampire, wrapped around her, poised to climb her like a tree if only she had the courage and lack of… Oh no. She absolutely had the lack of propriety down. Drunken misbehaviour. The brattiness, in public, complete with the clinging. The wicked gleam in Cecelia’s eye as she led Roslyn to the makeshift dancefloor… The Witch’s cheeks flushed, leading her to curse her complexion. There was no way anybody was going to miss her blushing, nor her previous antics. Hells, she was never going to live this down, not if the smirk upon Cecelia’s face was any indication.

“I won’t dance if it proves a danger to you.” The warning was given light heartedly, a soft, intimate whisper as Cecelia drew Roslyn in close. Already, it was apparent the Witch barely had her feet, yet as always Cecelia was there to ground her. To be the very ground she stood upon. Without a blink, Cecelia had Roslyn standing on her feet, had her held impossibly close.

“How else are we meant to celebrate the date you were born?”

The innocent question punched the air from Cecelia’s immortal lungs. Mother night, it tore her back hundreds of years. Back to when the day held meaning. To memories of a time before Kellan. Before the Ward. Where the ballrooms were alive, where she… The answer was so close, yet so far. So very, very far from Cecelia’s grasp. All she could do was sigh, was close her eyes and lean her cool forehead to Roslyn’s clammy one with a solitary observation.

“You know.”

“Of course I know. It’s important to know that about your family!” Roslyn’s earnest statement lured Cecelia’s eyes open, the impact of the unspoken acknowledgement a gift unlike any she’d received in her long life. She smiled, not one of her above mortality, tragic smiles, but a true smile, complete with a glimmer of fang. It was a smile which shook Roslyn to the core. Upon Cecelia’s feet, Roslyn finally stood at even height, their faces aligned. It was effortless, to lose herself in the beauty of Cecelia’s face so close to her own. To feel how their breath mingled in the tiniest of spaces between their lips. With a flush unattributed to alcohol, the Witch babbled on.

“It took a lot of magic though. And Kellan.” The conclusion of Roslyn’s explanation only proved her dedication. For Roslyn to willingly have sought out Kellan, to have chosen to confide in him, even for Cecelia… It went beyond Roslyn’s appreciation for him as someone in Cecelia’s life, or as her boss.

“It is alarming is that you, of all of us, got him to the table.” She noted. An absolutely monumental understatement. Their conflict went beyond Kellan’s hazing a tenderfoot approach to Roslyn as a member of the team. Truth be told, Cecelia had half expected Roslyn to give Kellan a bad plum in leu of an apple when Kellan declared the trials. Their tensions even went further than Roslyn thinking Kellan a ten-cent man, and he finding the Witch to be a bag of nails. It was her. Roslyn’s issues had only grown worse once she knew precisely what Kellan’s role had been in Cecelia’s upbringing.

Just as his hostility towards Roslyn had only increased once he recognised her connection to Cecelia. The temptation she could become, had become. What she was only proved to be the icing on one very hostile cake. The fact that they were beginning to bury the hatchet, instead of simply co-exist was just another priceless gift.

“I wanted you to have fun, and instead lost myself in my cup trying to flavour my blood before you even arrived. I was going to let you bite me so we could watch the sunrise. Sascha suggested some different drinks… I ruined your surprise! I’m going to be grouchier than a bear with a sore head come morning.” Roslyn deflated, squeezing her hand just that little tighter on Cecelia’s bicep.

“Then it seems we will both be hiding from the sun.” Cecelia sighed, unable to conceal her smile as she leaned back. The tickle of Roslyn’s hair against her nose was the smallest of prices to pay to deliver the gentlest kiss to the Witch’s forehead. A gesture which had Roslyn smiling too, creeping from the melancholy that had been nipping at her heels.

“You’ll be a…” Cecelia trailed off, mischief brewing in her stormy eyes. As she continued in a sing song voice.

“What is it you called me? An adorable, grumpy little muffin?”

“You were all pouty! an’ to think, here I was tryin’ ta be nice to ya.” The Witch laughed, shaking her head a little at the gall Cecelia had to throw her own words back at her. That was a low blow. Totally uncalled for… adorable too. A little kitten mewling.

“I sincerely appreciate the sentiment, little delinquent.“ Cecelia crooned in return. Roslyn shrugged, unable to focus on anything but the gentle curve of Cecelia’s lips. The hint of fangs behind the midnight red curtain. Mindlessly, Roslyn tipped her head forwards, playfully nuzzling the Vampire’s jaw before her ear once more settled over Cecelia’s shoulder, forehead nestled into the safety of Cecelia’s neck. There, tucked away in the scoop of Cecelia’s body, swaying in slow circles to the sweetest notes of a steady piano, Roslyn yawned, her smile shifted into contentment. Cecelia sighed too, tilting her head so that she could rest her cheek to Roslyn’s temple. Together, they swayed, enraptured by one another, lost on the tide of the piano’s melody. Cecelia, drowning in the orchestra of Roslyn’s heartbeat. Of her soul. All of which fell secondary to the sweetest whisper, like the touch of wind across the desert on a still night.

"Happy Birthday, Lady Cecelia Visconti.”

“Thank you.”

Cecelia’s response was honest. Sincere. Spoken from the heart. Even drunk, Roslyn could see it in her eyes. How gentle they were, soft, with a droopiness to them. For once, it was not Cecelia trying to appear harsher, nor watching for danger. There it was. The chasm in the veneer Roslyn had so desperately desired, mere millimetres from her face. Overwhelming, like how the Sun’s light drowned the moon out every day, but still the moon shone, as did every star. Only, they were within Cecelia’s eyes. Mother Night, they were in Cecelia’s eyes. Roslyn could only smile, even with her cheek rested to Cecelia’s lace covered shoulder, giggling at the tickle of Cecelia’s hair in conflict with the scratchiness of the lace.

“So,” Roslyn begun, her smile only growing as she saw Cecelia tilt her chin that little bit closer, as if trying to connect their gazes once more.

“are you ready to tell me how old you really are?”

Cecelia cracked. Her warm, rich laughter vibrated in her chest, disrupting Roslyn’s resting place. When faced with such a thing, what else could be done but to giggle along, to bathe in a moment where the weight of the world was not upon their shoulders? Where they could be young, drunk and ditzy without it leading to the cost of lives. Where the Ward had no power to punish Cecelia, or leverage her life against Kellan. Where, they could just be. Roslyn laughed too, turning her head so that she could playfully try to sneak a kiss through the lace over Cecelia’s collar. Whether it was the pressure, the heat of her mouth or the wet of her kiss, Cecelia seemed to feel something. Her chest swelled, and for one glistening moment, they were completely still. A snapshot in time.

“Oh my darling Witch, you still have not learned it is rude to query a woman’s age.”

#answered #anonymous #lovestruck #women of lovestruck #cecelia visconti #cecelia x mc #wicked lawless love #fluff #fluffy #touching thursday

44 notes · View notes

sonicasura · 3 years

Text

Balan Wonderworld Review: Favorite Costumes Part 2

Before we get started, I like to say something. I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE TIM TRAPS. If you don't know, there is a specific plant that tends to appear in certain levels called Tim Traps. A carnivorous orange flower that's favorite meal is TIMS. If you kick the plants, you can free your Trapped Tim or prevent one from getting trapped for a short period of time. Problem is if the Tim is trapped for too long, your baby is gone for good. Chapter 3 and Chapter 5's Act 3 are loaded with these annoying plants. To the point if I can't find the trapped Tims, I exit out of the game just to save my poor fluffballs. Ain't sacrificing my little birds for Drops and Trophies! Mini rant over.

Rules are the same as before. I'd be ranking both a Common Costume and Rare Costume. Common Costumes are easily to find whether it be in multiple levels and Rare Costumes are those that rarely appear or are difficult to get.

I'll be doing my favorite Secret Costume after playing all Act 3s for each chapter. Now let's begin.

Chapter 7

Common Costume- Floaty Flower

The Flower Fairy and greatest glider found in the main story. Floaty Flower is a costume that can be found in the Act 1, 2 and the Boss Act, it offers a slower descent but faster movement than the hover for Soaring Sheep.

I love this costume not for its aesthetic but a cute Easter Egg I found in Chapter 7 Act 1. On rare occasions, this costume is an NPC that actually flirts with you! Some NPCs in certain chapters act differently from their standard counterpart. They often try to disguise themselves or runaway. Catching them grants you a free costume of the one you caught.

Floaty Flower will appear and follow you, similar to a shy school girl with a crush. If you go to her, she will run which is a similar action to any shy person getting approached by their crush. Also... I think there is some lore hidden in this one that might be quite sad if it's directly linked to Cal, the human whose heart created this particular world. If so then... OOF.

Rare Costume - Paladin Puncher

A knight fights with his fists than a sword. This costume can be found in Act 2 and is a stronger version of the Pumpkin Puncher that can break iron or ice blocks. He's a bit slower than his Chapter 6 counterpart but perfect breaking the more blocks and defeating spiky enemies.

I also love the fact this costume goes against the traditional tools of a knight. Knights often fight using swords, shields, lances and rare occasions bows or axes. If you give me one who PUNCHES or straight uses martial arts to fight then you got my vote in seconds.

Chapter 8

Common Costume - Snow Fairy

Elegant dancer of ice and snow. The Snow Fairy costume allows the wearer to walk on air for a short period of time and can in found in Act 1 and Act 2. This costume does have a shorter usage time than Air Cat but makes up for it with the added elevation.

I absolutely adore how elegant and beautiful this particular costume is. You can compare the Snow Fairy to myths often related to fae or hidden in the freezing mountains. An otherworldly beauty that makes any hardship worth seeing just a being before your eyes. Being a reindeer type Faun just adds to the mystique and creating snowflakes to walk on is a perfect extra touch.

Rare Costume - Amadeus

Sophisticated pianist. A costume that can only be found in Act 1 and is a performing costume. Now I am a big fan of piano covers, whether it be covers of game osts or actual songs, there is rarely any piano music I don't like.

I love the fact he's wearing piano keys as a collar and even has a tutu made out of those very keys. A very creative take to a normally grounded instrument. And the big white wig is a nice touch since it's often portrayed with pianists in various media.

Chapter 9

Common Costume- Iron Panda

Adorable crusher. Iron Panda is a costume found in Act 1 and Act 2 with the ability to break iron blocks using both its jump and weight. This costume is surprisingly fast for a rather large and heavy form, perfect for fast stomps on enemies or quick getaways if you have rare costumes you don't want to lose.

This costume reminds of a rolling Russian Doll with a panda theme. Very adorable, the bluish purple color suits the white very nicely and I love that sleepy look on its face. The large blue dots on its sides are actually the arms too, they mimic panels! Only thing that unnerves me is when the costume turns their head by a 90 degree angle. Super creepy when using it.

Rare Costume- Merry Ghost

Cute and Spooky! The Merry Ghost is a costume that can be found in Act 2 and gives the ability to constantly float. It's main purpose is to avoid ground hazards like poison swamps and has a larger slightly floaty jump. The only downside is that you can't harm enemies with this, it's only for quick mobility.

Very adorable especially with the stitched rag cloak covering the body. It has this Mimikyu sort of vibe but also a Casper the Friendly Ghost aura too. Friendly spirits are often tossed aside for more vicious or antagonistic ones in a lot of media. Getting an adorable friendly one just adds points in my book and a good pal for Casper.

Chapter 10

Common Costume - Inky Blaster

Yuji Naka's take on a squid kid. This costume can be found in Act 1, Act 2 and the Boss Act. She allows the wearer to throw fast globs of rainbow paint at opponents or targets and is decently agile.

Love that her hands are paintbrushes and is based on the octopus. Tentacles mimicking the frills of a dress and used for hair and feet? A very creative take and splattering rainbow paint on the annoying types of Negati (looking at you ya divebomb happy Pelican and destroyer of most of my good costumes) is very therapeutic.

Rare Costume- Air Unicorn

The first unicorn I like?! This costume can only be found in Act 1 and allows the user to walk on air farther than Air Cat. The practical godfather of mobility, and recovery. You won't believe how many times this costume has gotten me to very difficult areas and saved me from death via falling into the abyss.

It is a very tricky costume to find but if you turn around, there's a large paintbrush on the wall. You need the Double Jumper to get on top but you'll be able to see a hidden mirror. That is where the Air Unicorn is located.

I won't lie that unicorns are not my preferred mythological creature. I live in America where unicorns tend to be oversaturated to oblivion and don't get me started on My Little Pony. The show isn't my cup of tea but I do have some followers and friends who are fans. People have their own opinions and it's rude to question them about it.

I honestly love the elegant but cute design, the purple, pale pink and cyan just fit well with the white, I also love that the mane mimics a paintbrush tip and the large light purple collar of fur is a perfect touch to this fine design.

Chapter 11

Common Costume - Bulldozer

A man's punny best friend! This costume can be in Act 1, Act 2 (?), and the Boss Act. It lets you push special construction blocks and you can boost the push speed by button mashing.

They definitely took a lot of creative for costumes in Chapter 11 amongst the other ones in my opinion. Fire Stations tend to have some animal companions with dogs being the most common but instead of a Dalmatian for the design they used a Bulldog! 😍

Like the aforementioned machine, this good boy is bulky, has the appropriate color scheme and even the hands turn into bulldozer's shovel when using the ability! I love the fact his tail is wagging when you push a block and it wags faster if ya button mash!

Also the name is a pun!

Rare Costume - Fiery Blaster

Pyromancer of Lions. The Fiery Blaster costume can only be found in Act 2. It gives the wearer that ability to throw large fireballs alongside fire and lava immunity. If you hate lava levels or have difficulty with this Chapter's boss then I recommend getting this Costume.

First thing I like to say about this particular design is how they use the colors. Looking at the mane, you can see how the red and darker red are patterned in a way to mimic flames. The dark red fur on the feet are even in fire like a pattern. The outfit such as the yellow and brownish kilt alongside the gloves spewing fire around the wrists just reminds me of a fire dancer.

I can see this fella wielding one of the torches a fire dancer uses and just put on a spectacular show.

Chapter 12

Another loveable version of a beloved icon. The Invisible Man costume can be found in Act 1, Act 2 and the Boss Act. It has the power to turn the wearer invisible for a period of time and become undetected to enemies that aren't bosses.

Agile and perfect to deal with enemies who are very annoying or are difficult snipers. You don't know how satisfying it is to give the more aggravating Negati an invisible middle finger by sneak attacking them. I have lost many costumes whenever enemies got the drop on me so it's fair to dish out payback.

I love how this design takes aspect from the popular icon but also have it relate to their human counterpart. Bandages were used by the original Invisible Man to cover skin his normal clothing couldn't cover in public and made it easier for him to disappear when needed.

The shoes and arms being covered in bandages and some of the bandages being used as bangs for the hair is a nice touch.

Rare Costume - Jolt Tiger

Immovable Taser. This costume can only be found in Act 2. It grants electricity immunity and create a barrier when you stand still. One of the better costumes for baiting particular enemies. You do have to be careful because a single itch will stop the barrier.

If you don't know, the Tiger is my Chinese Zodiac and electricity is one of my favorite elements. Love the yellow lightning bolt flairs and even the black stripes mimic lightning too! I also like the will o' wisp pattern on the stomach and the large tuft of grayish fur around the chest. The design puts it above the Sun Walker.

And that is it! The next thing I will cover is the level design and it's music. The bosses will be done last since it's good to save the best for last!

Until next time folks, see you back in Wonderworld.

#balan company #balan wonderworld #fuck square enix #balan company's innocent #sonicasura #mun sonicasura #game review #my personal opinion #fucksquareenix #balan wonderland #balan wonderworld costumes #favorite costumes #personal favorites

22 notes · View notes

fandom-collective-writers · 3 years

Text

Dressed to the Nines (Fenrir/Reader/Seth)

Pairing: Fenrir / Reader / Seth Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Rating: SFW - Thriller Prompt: Stalker + Bite Word Count: 1,412 Written by: @moos-cow / @hamster-damn

October 31st.

There you were, standing in front of the mirror, drinking in the reflection of your own clad in a daring midnight blue off-shoulder gown.

“Stunning,” Seth spoke from the threshold of your room with a small box in hand that contained the final touch to complete your ensemble. He strode to stand behind you, warm hands lightly brushing over the fabric of your gown before settling on the curve of your hips, and his lips meeting the bare area between your neck and shoulder, “Absolutely stunning.”

You quickly turn in his arms to face him, "Who do I have to thank for, then?" you ask with a cheeky grin before leaning in for a quick peck on the lips. "Thank you, Seth. This dress looks absolutely beautiful."

"And you take beautiful to a whole new level, sweetie." He says, tucking a stray lock behind your ear. "Ah! We have something for you-" Seth lifts the small box up to your eye level. "Turn for me."

You turn as he unboxes the item to reveal an identical midnight blue choker necklace with a dangling crystal before securing it around your neck. But before you could comment any further, a chipper voice calls out from the hall and light tapping of boots quickly reach your room.

"Yo, Seth! Alice! Ya guys ready to go or-- wow." Fenrir stood by your doorway agape at the sight of you. Although he was already wearing his mask, a blush could still be seen creeping up high on his cheeks.

You take Seth's hand in yours and saunter towards Fenrir, taking his hand in your other free hand. "To the Civic Ballroom, yes?" the two follow after you to the waiting carriage with a spring in every step.

You arrive at the Civic Ballroom with your two escorts by your side. The doors to the annual ball opened before you, and the different sights, sounds, and scents wafted out to greet you. Officials and personalities from every quarter of Cradle had come and gathered to don their best outfits for a night to celebrate the spooky. Albeit masked, some of them you could still identify.

Among the dazzling sights before you, the buffet table caught your eyes the most, making it your first stop for the night. You filled your plate to the point of nearly overflowing, "Enjoying yourself, aren't we?" a chipper voice suddenly called from behind you.

You turned with a pastry-full plate in hand and a charcoal colored macaroon in the other. "Ray?" you call, but alas, there wasn't a sign of a single soul behind you. You study the area only to find nothing out of the ordinary.

You strut back to your table where you found Luka and Sirius with each a flute in hand. "Sirius! Luka!" You called to the two, sliding the tower of pastries you procured from the buffet table in front of them, "Have you seen Fenrir and Seth?"

"Seth's at one o'clock." Sirius tilted his flute towards the crowd around the 10 of Spades. Your eyes meet with Seth's for a brief moment before he goes back to entertaining the other guests.

"I saw Fenrir messing around with Ray earlier." Luka spoke quietly as he languidly reached for a lemon bar, obviously tired from socializing with the guests.

The ambient chitchat from all over the ballroom gradually faded as the music from the string quartet began to play. People from the center of the room moved to the sides as couples walked hand-in-hand to the center of the floor.

"Excuse me, miss" a man extends a hand to you from the side, "May I have the pleasure of having this dance?" Although you were slightly taken aback, you still reached your hand over to take his. A little dance won't hurt.

One became two, then three.

Three songs danced with three different guests, only the last one you identified to be the Queen of Hearts. His unmistakable mint hair and haughty comments resulted to your relentless bickering throughout the whole song. He tired you out so much, you needed to step out for a drink and some fresh air. The balcony on the second floor sounded like a nice idea to you.

Out the doors and into the dimly lit halls you went, pausing every so often to admire the artworks that hung on the Civic corridors. The sounds of the party slowly faded away the further you went, leaving you to the ambient silence and the tapping of your heels.

Moments later you realized that there were taps that weren't in sync with yours. You abruptly stopped and turned, but so do the taps. You strained your eyes to search for whoever or whatever was stalking you. Nothing. You continue your walk down to the moonlit balcony slightly bothered as you recalled the officers' haunting stories of the old building.

'Banging on conference rooms on the 2nd floor', 'Screams of fallen officers from the Gardens', 'The piano suddenly playing in the Main Ballroom', 'Whispers in the hall', and the infamous 'dragging of furniture across the diplomats' offices.'

A chill ran down your spine at the thought of the stories. You glanced at the doors to your sides, fervently wishing for not a single one to sound as you chanted "Ghosts aren't real" repeatedly from under your breath.

Five more doors 'til the balcony.

At your final glance, you catch an apparition trailing behind you. Your eyes widened in shock and you picked up the pace of your walk, racking your brain for ways to get out of this mess. The stairs was far behind you, you were too far down to scream for help, and daring to exit via the balcony was rather reckless. You needed to hide.

You twisted the knobs on the doors that you passed, all were locked except for one. You hurriedly entered and locked the door behind you, breathing heavily to catch your breath.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

You stumbled back at the loud banging on the door. The knob shook for a bit, but then stopped. Leaving you alone again to the ambient sounds of your surroundings.

You stepped out of your heels and began to walk around the room to inspect. The fireplace was on, yet there was no sign of any occupant. "Hello?" you called out for confirmation. Nothing. You slid your empty glass on the sole round table and leaned on the said furniture to calm your racing heart.

Just as you began to relax, the chipper voice from earlier spoke once again, startling you by its close proximity. "Having fun?"

A grin crept up your face as you caught the strained notes in his tone. You knew this voice too well to miss it. "Not so. I expected a bit more... thrill." You replied playfully and abruptly turned to the gentleman behind you.

Your breath hitched and your grin turned to pure shock. Before you was the man you were expecting, but not at all. His mouth and suit were drenched in a carmine liquid that reeked a certain metallic stench. "F-Fenrir," you stuttered, frozen in place as your eyes darted towards what laid behind him, behind the sofa-- a lifeless body.

You take a step back and bumped into the table. The glass tips and breaks as it fell to the floor, causing you to jump once more. Strong arms trapped you between his body and the furniture as he slowly leans in, nuzzling at the crook of your neck.

"Thrill eh? How 'bout a little bite, then?" He whispered in a sultry tone. “You look absolutely delicious tonight.”

With all your strength you can muster, you pushed him back and ran towards the door. Fumbling with the lock in the rush to unlock and open it. As the door swung wide open, Seth was there by the opening.

"Seth!" you screamed and pushed him away from the room. You grab his wrist and scrambled on your trembling legs to make a run for it with him. But he jerks you back and pulls you right into his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist to lock you in place.

"Fenrir, what did I tell you about playing with your food?" the older man scolded as he pulled you back into the room. You cry and you kick, but his grip never faltered. “Look at you, you’re a mess!”

"Forgive him, sweetie. He's still... adjusting."

#ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen revolution #Fenrir Godspeed #ikemen revolution fenrir #seth hyde #seth hyde x reader #fenrir godspeed x reader #ikerev seth #ikerev fenrir #Jonah Clemence #luka clemence #Sirius Oswald

43 notes · View notes

tisthenightofthewitch · 4 years

Text

THE 20 GREATEST GHOST SONGS – RANKED - KERRANG!

From Opus Eponymous to Prequelle, we rank the greatest compositions from Ghost

Words: Sam Law

Photo: Tom Barnes

Undoubtedly the breakout band in heavy music over the past decade, it’s been a wild ride for Swedish creeps Ghost. Melding elements of hard rock, doom, classic metal, psychedelia and outright guitar-pop – then daubing on the corpsepaint – their combination of deceptively digestible sound, occultist ethos and anti-ecumenical aesthetic has captured the imagination of music fans and sling-shotted their live ‘rituals’ into arenas on both sides of the Atlantic.

Of course, mysterious mainman Tobias Forge (aka Papa Emeritus I-IV, aka Cardinal Copia) has had his struggles. In 2013, the band was forced to temporarily rebrand as Ghost B.C. for legal reasons in the U.S. The initially intriguing, fluid anonymity of his bandmates’ Nameless Ghoul personas (even Dave Grohl apparently once donned the cowl) became a sticking point, too, as the collective sued Tobias in 2017, failing in their suit but also dispelling some of the precious mystique.

That Tobias has endured – not just surviving, but flamboyantly thriving in the heightened spotlight – feels like proof his band are here to stay. New music is eagerly anticipated in the not-so-distant future but, for now, we rank the 20 tracks on which Ghost have built their unholy empire thus far…

20. MUMMY DUST (MELIORA, 2015)

‘I was carried on a wolf’s back, to corrupt humanity / I will pummel it with opulence, with corpulence and greed!’ Arriving on a wave of staccato percussion, spiked with gnarls of riffage and flashes of synth, this pounding cut from 2015’s Meliora – named after the insubstantial detritus of years past – plays out as one of Ghost’s most compelling indictments of the avarice of mankind. Although its creeping instrumentation, growled baritone and choral climax don’t exactly show the Swedes at their most inventive, Mummy Dust has been elevated massively in the live arena, with Papa leaning into the lurching malevolence before showering the audience with ‘money’. In Ghost we trust.

19. WITCH IMAGE (PREQUELLE, 2018)

Ghost might have traversed a full spectrum from gouging metal via classic rock to shimmering guitar-pop thus far, but the further their sound has strayed into the light, the harder the lyrics have drilled down into darkness. It’s never been truer than on this underrated ditty from Prequelle. A textbook three-and-a-half-minutes built of sweet acoustic and rich electric guitars surging towards its massive chorus, you can practically taste the relish as Tobias ladles the syrup onto some of his darkest words. ‘While you sleep in earthly delight, someone’s flesh is rotting tonight / Like no other to you, what you’ve done you can not undo…’

18. CON CLAVI CON DIO (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

After the baroque organ intro of Deus Culpa, it’s the throbbing bassline of Con Clavi Con Dio that truly pulls back the sacristy drapes on Ghost’s compelling debut. Translating crudely as ‘With Nails, With God’, the title Con Clavi Con Dio is actually an attempt at clever wordplay, drawing comparisons with the nails of crucifixion and the conclave of bishops at the head of the church as Tobias sings, ‘Our conjuration sings infernal psalms and smear the smudge in bleeding palms.’ Theological musing aside, it’s the dark swirl of sound here that truly draws the listener in, with gauzy layers of guitar, synth and vocals – not to mention the devilish tritone interval – building into a towering cathedral of subversion.

17. FAITH (PREQUELLE, 2018)

No relation to the oft-covered George Michael classic, the fourth single from 2018’s Prequelle feels like a defiant statement of the band’s arena-straddling prowess twelve years in. Powered by snarling six-strings and pounding drums – custom engineered to get tens of thousands of fists pumping – it’s seething proof that this band’s heaviest sounds are still among their best. At the same time, we get a furious flash of the man behind the mask as Tobias takes aim at his ex-Nameless Ghouls with some serious lyrical barbs: ‘The Luddites shun the diabolical, a fecal trail across the land / Although it stinks, feels and looks identical / And a pack of fools can take the stand.’ Oooft.

16. PER ASPERA AD INFERNI (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

Riffing on the popular Latin phrase ‘Per aspera ad astra’ (‘Through hardship to the stars’), Per Aspera Ad Infini literally translates as ‘Through Hardships To Hell.’ Its churning sound diabolically matches up. Layering on riffage that calls to mind the epic doom of heroes like Candlemass, marching-beat percussion and a lyrical treatment revolving around that title chanted as a mantra, there is sinisterness throughout. Its defining quality, however, is the fragility and despair Tobias manages to summon as he begs with ecstatic fervour, ‘Oh Satan, devour us all / Hear our desperate call.’

15. SECULAR HAZE (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

The lead single from 2013’s sophomore LP Infestissumam immediately built on the spooky foundations laid by Opus Eponymous with broader pantomime atmospherics and – on its live premiere in Linköping, Sweden, where Papa Emeritus II was unveiled – the first branches of their expanded mythos. A carnivalesque organ sets the tone of mischievous eeriness before the pendulous musicality hits full swing with Papa inviting us in: ‘You know that the fog is here omnipresent when the disease sees no cure / You know that the fog is here omnipresent when the intents remain obscure – forevermore!’ As if their mainstream-invading intent wasn’t clear enough, its single release even came with a B-side cover of ABBA’s I’m A Marionette featuring Dave Grohl on drums!

14. SEE THE LIGHT (PREQUELLE, 2018)

Another barely-veiled reference to Tobias’ struggles with ex-bandmates, See The Light is also one of his band’s most shamelessly uplifting compositions. Feeling like a positivist ’80s anthem – shot through with a little venom – its tinkling keys, soaring synths and understated, rumbling riffage propel an effortlessly memorable message about transcending the ill-will of one’s antagonists. Sing it together: ‘Every day that you feed me with hate, I grow stronger!’

13. DEUS IN ABSENTIA (MELIORA, 2015)

Riding on the metronomic beat of their Monstrance Clock, the closer on Ghost’s third album (translated from Latin as ‘In The Absence Of God’) is an extravagant exercise in arch theatrics. Benefiting from Klas Åhlund’s grandiose production, Tobias comes across as both demon and angel, extending his dark invitation: ‘The world is on fire, and you are here to stay and burn with me / A funeral pyre, and we are here to revel forever.’ Concluding with a hymn-like Latin chorus, it feels like the ultimate corruptive culmination: a musical sacrament truly touching only to those in the know.

12. STAND BY HIM (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

The track that started it all. Inspired by that irresistible lead riff – stumbled upon while practising for another band – Tobias foresaw a deep, dark well of potential waiting to be tapped and threw himself in headlong. Although Stand By Him’s schlocky lyrics feel gleefully on-the-chin nowadays (‘The Devil’s power is the greatest one / When His’ and Hers’ holiest shuns the sun / A temptress smitten by the blackest force / A vicar bitten blind in intercourse’), they paved the way for everything that followed. On top of that, its soaring ‘It is the night of the witch…’ chorus line even rivals that of Donovan’s Season Of The Witch (an obvious influence) for sheer spellbinding catchiness.

11. GHULEH/ZOMBIE QUEEN (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

One of the less immediate tracks on Ghost’s second album was also its most important. A staggering, seven-and-a-half minute opus that unfolds from its sorrowing piano line and Papa’s desiccated hiss through a swaggering midsection to a conclusion full of proggy bombast; this was proof of the untold breadth and depth of their vision and sound. Pushing from their basis in ’80s classic rock through the looser sounds of the ’70s and right into ’60s psychedelia, this ode to the titular zombie queen (‘Up from the stinking dirt she rises, ghastly pale / Shape-shifting soon but now she’s rigid, stiff and stale’) feels like Tobias’ first real attempt to stretch his (cursed black) wings and remains amongst their most rewarding compositions.

10. RITUAL (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

Anyone who remembers Ghost’s ethereal emergence from the shadows likely does so with this earworm writhing in the back of their mind. Combining the slick melodies and wry fatalism of prime Blue Öyster Cult with the crunchiness of Pentagram and Saint Vitus – soothing organs and a driving bassline pulling away – they had the musical formula nailed. It was the imagery contained therein, however (all ‘bedouins and nomads’, fallen angels and ‘smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar bed’) that captured the imaginations of a congregation ravenous for a fresh take on ancient evil. Here, the doors to the sanctum were truly open.

9. YEAR ZERO (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

Tying into the Ghost B.C. renaming necessitated by their Stateside legal wranglings (the year zero being the pivotal point between the B.C. and A.D. timelines), Infestissumam’s sixth track developed into one of the greatest showcases of their dark majesty. Opening with a powerful Gregorian chant (‘Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer’) calling to mind Jerry Goldsmith’s legendary soundtrack to The Omen, Ave Satana, the direct riffage and bludgeoning choruses that follow hammer home a sense of sheer monstrosity. Typically, the Year Zero concept is subverted, with Forge (and, reportedly, guitarist Martin Persner) picturing an ancient antagonist far predating biblical times: ‘Since dawn of time the fate of man is that of lice, equal as parasites and moving without eyes / A day of reckoning when penance is to burn, count down together now and say the words that you will learn.’

8. MIASMA (PREQUELLE, 2018)

Just when you think you’ve got Ghost figured out, they pull something like this. The first of Prequelle’s two extended instrumentals feels like showboating from an outfit whose legitimacy some fans had dared question following the acrimonious departure of so many players. Rearing into view as an expansively primitive space-rock soundscape, layering up into an ’80s prog epic, then exploding in a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of synths, Michael Jackson riffs and the best metal saxophone this side of Norway’s Shining, it was proof that Tobias’ vision would not be dictated solely by his own crooning King Diamond fixation and that it, frankly, knew no bounds.

7. ELIZABETH (OPUS EPONYMOUS, 2010)

Four years since their formation, Elizabeth felt like the break Ghost had been waiting for. Released on 7” vinyl (with the less-ear-catching Death Knell on B-side), the Mercyful Fate comparisons were immediate, with many seeing the sense of eerie grandeur and kitsch luridity at play as directly descended from the great Danes’ 1987 classic Devil Eyes. An ode to infamous Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Bathory – alleged serial killer and bloodbather – sees Papa getting his teeth sunk in lyrically: ‘Her pact with Satan, her disposal of mankind / Her acts of cruelty and her lust for blood makes her one of us!’ The fine balance between sensuality and sin has yet to be bettered.

6. RATS (PREQUELLE, 2018)

The lead single from 2018’s Prequelle feels like a bridge between the (relative) heaviness of the band’s past and the unfettered theatricality of the album that was about to follow. Powered by a straightforward riff and piercing organs, dazzling solos and a rogue harpsichord, its introduction of the Black Death concept in which the album would wallow (refracting contemporary grievances through the filthy lens of the 14th century bubonic plague) felt both atmospherically appropriate and deliciously alive. The Scandi-pop ‘oooh-aahs’ in the chorus remain one of the band’s most gleefully irreverent touches, too. And the question of whether ‘them filthy rodents still coming for your souls’ is reference to Tobias’ old bandmates has provided rich fuel to keep the metal gossip mill turning.

5. MONSTRANCE CLOCK (INFESTISSUMAM, 2013)

In the Roman Catholic church, the monstrance is an (often ornate) receptacle in which the consecrated communion host is displayed for veneration. A monstrance clock was an aesthetically-similar Renaissance-era timekeeping device capable of displaying date, time and a wealth of other celestial information, often used in church rituals. We suspect that Ghost just liked the faintly cheeky sound of the phrase when quickly spoken. Still, the song they wrought from that initial giggle is utterly unforgettable. Deliberately paced and overflowing with evangelical zeal, a slow build flourishes into a splendiferous closing chorus that’s turned many an arena into a church of the Dark Lord: ‘Come together, together as one / Come together for Lucifer’s son!’

4. DANCE MACABRE (PREQUELLE, 2018)

If Rats was pandering somewhat to the existing fanbase, Dance Macabre was the other side of the coin. A shamelessly retro ’80s-style power ballad that’s as light on overt Satanic references as it is heavy on the cheese, some fans saw it as a form of selling-out: a dilution of devilish imagery in service of greater American radio-rock appeal. Perhaps they had a point. From its fist-pumping percussion and effervescent guitar solo to that ‘wanna, be wit chu’ chorus hook, however, it’s executed with enough committed precision and knowing panache to stand on its own terms, and a whole legion of new fans couldn’t help be swept along through the gateway and on to far darker delights. Tobias’ explanation that this is a soundtrack for people living like there’s no tomorrow – as many literally did during the plague – adds an extra dimension. Best experienced with the gleefuly vampiric music video.

3. CIRICE (MELIORA, 2015)

It’s strange how things work out sometimes. Originally conceived with producer Klas Åhlund as a nine-minute instrumental deep cut, Cirice was chopped down and reworked into Meliora’s irresistible lead single – becoming the song that really kickstarted Ghost’s stratospheric ascent. An insidious opening combusts into an infernal crescendo before lurching into the band’s most bludgeoning riff to date. All the while, Papa’s beguiling vocals reach out, full of dark romance, for new converts to their corrupted congregation. 2016’s GRAMMY for Best Metal Performance felt like just reward for such inspired work. The Roboshobo-directed music video – featuring a school talent show that’s almost as horrific as the ones we remember – is another stone cold standout.

2. SQUARE HAMMER (POPESTAR, 2016)

Following the unprecedented success of Meliora, Ghost found themselves suddenly commanding crowds far larger – and more diverse – than they’d seen before. Most of the ingredients for these grander live rituals were already in place, but they lacked the barn-burner early in their set to get these massive rooms onside. Dropped as the standalone original track on the Popestar covers EP, Square Hammer gave them just that. Abstractly melding the cultist themes of Satanism and Freemasonry, the concept of selling one’s soul – ‘ready to swear right here, right now, before the devil’ – was hardly new, but the outright pop energy of those surging synths and that exuberant chorus clearly signalled that the game had changed.

1. HE IS (MELIORA, 2015)

If Ghost’s diabolical mission statement is to make the Luciferian ideals more palatable to the masses, then He Is must be their masterpiece. So perfectly camouflaged – with twanging acoustic guitars and reverberating vocals that could’ve been nicked from the golden age of AOR – is their message, that they could drop this at any Christian rock festival and only the most switched-on devotees would know the difference. Openly indebted to giants like Kansas and Journey (and less openly to more recent occult acoustic acts like Ancient VVisdom), there’s a burning light to the sound. The use of divine-sounding Latin (‘Nostro Dispater, nostr’alma mater’) to identify the titular ‘He’ as the dark lord of the underworld is just another characteristically twisted masterstroke. Kneel at their altar.

All rights owned by Kerrang!

What do you guys think?

Personally there’s a few I’d replace and Ritual is always my NO.1.

#The Band Ghost #Ghost Band #Cardinal Copia #Tobias Forge

81 notes · View notes

moos-cow · 3 years

Text

Dressed to the Nines

Halloween Ask Event

Pairing: Fenrir / Reader / Seth Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Rating: SFW - Thriller Prompt: Stalker + Bite

Written for @ikemen-discord-writers . (hello, it's me-@hamster-damn )

October 31st.

There you were, standing in front of the mirror, drinking in the reflection of your own clad in a daring midnight blue off-shoulder gown.

"And you take beautiful to a whole new level, sweetie." He says, tucking a stray lock behind your ear. "Ah! We have something for you-" Seth lifts the small box up to your eye level. "Turn for me."

"Seth's at one o'clock." Sirius tilted his flute towards the crowd around the 10 of Spades. Your eyes meet with Seth's for a brief moment before he goes back to entertaining the other guests.

"I saw Fenrir messing around with Ray earlier." Luka spoke quietly as he languidly reached for a lemon bar, obviously tired from socializing with the guests.

One became two, then three.

Five more doors 'til the balcony.

You twisted the knobs on the doors that you passed, all were locked except for one. You hurriedly entered and locked the door behind you, breathing heavily to catch your breath.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

You stumbled back at the loud banging on the door. The knob shook for a bit, but then stopped. Leaving you alone again to the ambient sounds of your surroundings.

Just as you began to relax, the chipper voice from earlier spoke once again, startling you by its close proximity. "Having fun?"

"Thrill eh? How 'bout a little bite, then?" He whispered in a sultry tone. “You look absolutely delicious tonight.”

"Forgive him, sweetie. He's still... adjusting.".

Happy Halloween! 🎃👻🦇

#ikemen revolution #ikemen kakumei #Ikemen discord writers #Ikerev #ikerev sirius #ikerev luka #ikerev seth #ikerev fenrir #ikerev jonah #seth hyde #fenrir godspeed #luka clemence #sirius oswald #halloween asks #thriller #jonah clemence

18 notes · View notes

survivalphoenix · 3 years

Photo

INTRODUCING... YI YOUNGJA aka BORA !

SEND HER COMMENTS OR MESSAGES NOW USING THE HASHTAG #RoF_BORA !

personal information.

birth name: 이영자

official romanization: yi youngja (but other spellings are fine to her)

stage name: bora

date of birth: may 4, 1997

current age: 23 (kor: 24)

place of birth: gwangju, south jeolla province, south korea

ethnicity: korean

nationality: south korean

sexuality: heterosexual

height: 5′5″

likely positions (based on audition, past performance footage, and current information): main/leader vocalist, face of the group, leader, rapper, sub dancer

representative symbol: plum blossom

has been a trainee for: 9 years!

languages spoken: korean; english; a little bit of latin, french, spanish, portuguese, italian, and romanian

miscellaneous information.

faceclaim: jung jinsoul

vocal claim: jung jinsoul

rap claim: jung jinsoul

dance claim: jung jinsoul

audition song: “as time goes” - jinsoul* (link in source)

* in-universe, “as time goes” is bora’s self-composed song.

fun facts.

although bora has never yet stepped foot outside south korea, she is familiar with so many languages because linguistics is her hobby. although her interest in it is quite academic, one of the reasons she began studying other languages isn’t so academic: “ruby tuesday” by the rolling stones is one of her favorite songs, and she wanted to be able to understand it.

bora is a talented pianist.

bora’s celebrity crush is hotel del luna leading man yeo jingoo. she says she wrote “as time goes” while imagining she was jang manwol walking in the bridge to the afterlife, leaving yeo’s character chansung behind. (however, her friends teased her by saying the song suited manwol and chungmyung more, which made her angry, because she doesn’t ship those two at all.)

she loves spooky concepts, which is probably obvious from her love of hotel del luna.

her favorite food is glazed lotus roots. as a bona fide child of gwangju, however, of course she’ll attest to how amazing their barbecued beef is.

she chose the stage name bora, which means purple in korean, because her surname means plum. plum is a shade of purple in english, and she likes the symbolism of plum blossoms (resilience, beauty, purity, hope, and prosperity). she also thinks it will be easy for an international audience to pronounce, which is the whole reason they have stage names anyway, but at the same time she wants to keep it korean.

biography + audition under the cut.

trigger warnings: descriptions of ableism, poverty, and bullying.

biography.

youngja was born in gwangju, one of south korea’s cuisine and fashion capitals. she had a wonderful time growing up, with a single mom who was a cook. her mother, eunji, truly loved her; that’s how youngja was able to have a nice childhood, despite their financial struggles and the social stigma they endured because they weren’t a nuclear family.

eunji found better and better jobs in the culinary world. by the time youngja was a teenager, she no longer had to worry whether or not she or her mother could eat. youngja was aware that her mother had aspirations of being an idol back in the day, but her unplanned pregnancy stopped her from achieving those dreams. so she offered to continue her mother’s dream for her, now that they had the money to pay for idol training.

youngja was a stand-out at her first agency. she was a klutz, sure, not the best dancer... but what did it matter when she was so musically gifted? a piano prodigy and a powerhouse vocalist. she was set to become a star.

the biggest problem really was that she was socially inept. youngja found herself with a distressing number of enemies and critics because of her “rude” or “arrogant” or “weird” behavior. she often cried to eunji about it.

but much as eunji loved her daughter, she was human too. she told her daughter to just ignore her peers; the woman was too enamored with the idea of having a superstar daughter to realize there was something else going on.

it wasn’t until youngja was 20 (kor: 21) years old and had given up on her idol dreams that she was finally diagnosed autistic. although the stigma made it hard for both mother and daughter to accept this at first, youngja eventually embraced her diagnosis. it helped her be gentler on herself, and understand herself more. maybe, just maybe, she’s ready to dream again.

audition.

bora sang her original composition “as time goes” while playing the piano. the panel was stunned by her incredibly clear and powerful vocals. “she’s really amazing at ballads,” said one judge.

“but i wonder if she’ll be good at dance pop too?” asked another. “i don’t think phoen-ix will only release ballads. you have to have variety.”

“i hear that she admits she’s not confident at dancing. and she’s pretty good at rapping, but doesn’t like it at all.”

#profile ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ BORA #me knowing this will flop but wanting to post anyway bc i'm so excited???#fake kpop gg #kpop oc #fake kpop idol #tag ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ BORA #tag ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ PROFILES

4 notes · View notes

nocturnalsleeper · 4 years

Text

500 Drawing Prompts

waterfall

wizard's staff

zombies

sandcastle

fangs

tattoo

family crest

spaceship

mythical beast

spooky tree

alien

tropical cocktail

robot

dragon

tombstone

medieval goblets

king's throne

mermaid

vampire

witch's cauldron

tooth fairy

deep sea monster

magic carpet

sculpture

coral reef

wine bottle

statue of liberty

beast

beauty

elephant

Mayan ruins

birds

cameras

bowl of soup

breakfast

lunch

snack

dinner

flower vase

ladder

full moon

bright sun

autumn

summer

spring

winter

butterfly

caterpillar

troll

roller skates

rain boots

weeds

flowers

bedroom

kitchen

dining room

bathroom

egg hatching

wrist watch

night

harvest

pond

raincoat

hat

water bottle

flashlight

sailboat

dandelion

earthworm

bank robber

policeman

superhero

villain

view out a window

cactus

sunflower

mosquito

spider web

star fish

flip flops

lawn chair

trampolines

pots and pans

sword

lighthouse

pie on a windowsill

house plant

soldier

chimney

barbed wire

squirrels

hot sauce

chain

beehive

helicopter

hot dog

venus flytrap

stained glass

sphinx

skateboard

serenity

open book

werewolf

hourglass

tower

camel

Cleopatra

favorite book character

desert

forest

mountains

ocean

pumpkin seed

pine cone

octopus

mannequin

lollipop

something sticky

footprints

tractor

slime

island paradise

sand dune

archer

my favorite outfit

trophies

fishing fly

black hole

cyclops

swan

mirror

microphone

pretzels

newspaper

submarine

scrambled eggs

eel

wave

bike

leather boots

keys

coffee cup

self portrait

snake charmer

playground

sumo wrestler

crystal chandelier

eight ball

secrets

treasure chest

children's toy

something that sparkles

penguin

unicorn

pirate

tribal pattern

suit of armor

pinball machine

erupting volcano

seahorse

ninja

happy monster

futuristic car

three little pigs

magic amulet

yeti

toolbox

fish bones

zipper

carpenter

handcuffs

doll house

mask

telescope

piano

windmill

double sided axe

samurai

ghost

hot air balloon

bubbles

polka dots

plate of cookies

snake scales

pair of socks

high dive

belt

figure skater

fisherman

space

jack-o-lantern

Cinderella's glass slipper

hay bale

bumper cars

cover wagon

spy

fighter jet

parachute

tree bark

radio

art gallery

bow and arrow

pepperoni pizza

snail

bushel of apples

doorknob

talking object

harp

chess pieces

sprinkler

electricity

computer keyboard

presents

barn

plaid

jewelry

ballet

curtains

tripod

sunglasses

bow tie

Saturn's rings

birdcage

swap creature

horse and carriage

banana peel

stapler

toothpaste

thunder storm

movie poster

video game controller

cinnamon sticks

target

skull

elf

alien plant life

first love

new baby

kids jumping

glaciers

shark

scarf

wheelchair

blacksmith

four wheeler

cowboy

crossroads

pedestal

police car

pug

someone who is full of joy

what's under your bed

hieroglyph

dolphin

wooden shield

laughing

jump rope

desk

something big next to something small

taxi

staircase

tomahawk

hummingbird

hedgehog

gorilla

firetruck

soda can

teddy bear

fortune cookie

fruit basket

smirk

game of marbles

crumpled paper

swordfish

alarm clock

goldfish

puppet

salt and pepper shakers

jet pack

time machine

hands

wood fencing

cave mouth

milkshake

high heeled shoes

music

smile

mad scientist

telephone booth

skyscraper

gargoyle

diamond

sushi

brier patch

something that comes in pairs

box of chocolates

brick wall

bat

chicken

bonsai tree

headphones

a new typeface

jellyfish

candy canes

lawn mower

rain puddles

school

lamb

wolf

bed

bowl of popcorn

lampshade

peacock

turtle

bear

ceiling fan

yo-yo

oil spill

kite

invisible man

casino

Abraham Lincoln

ice cream cone

corn on the cob

claws

beekeeper

coins

watermelon

landing on the moon

rotary telephone

brain

rocks

needle in a haystack

picnic basket

fireplace

bottle of poison

genie in a bottle

knight

hammer

acorn

orange

owl

hair

wheel barrel

pyramids

exploding dynamite

shrimp

guitarist

keyboardist

drummer

singer

griffin

carousel horse

bunnies

puppies

board game

a famous painting

stone walkway

maple leaf

lizard

eyes

ears

nose

mouth

leopard

record player

bulldozer

bride

snowman

feather headdress

playing cards

windy day

sleeping bag

dancing skeleton

piggy bank

wizard

evil prince

lantern

beach ball

cherub

sprout

aircraft carrier

olympic swimmer

wedding dress

feather

baseball glove

noodles

cat

dog

happy

sad

angry

relaxed

graffiti

motorcycle

tornado

caveman

pineapple

Lock Ness monster

flag

gas mask

starry sky

dream house

deer

Goldilocks

frog

tadpole

swing

circus clown

earth

cupcake

lace

rocking chair

bravery

Big Ben

doctor

railroad car

parade

Christmas sweater

Ferris wheel

sci-fi gun

medicine cabinet

birthday party

cutlery

great wall of china

umbrella

traffic sign

catapult

light bulb

bamboo

heart

moon colony

sandwiches

juice box

lake house

bushes

hard candy

camouflage

platypus

football helmet

soccer game

balloons

astronaut

missing teeth

memory

jukebox

tulip

ladybug

birthday cake

t-shirt

igloo

golf ball

fossils

your least favorite food

pencil cup

half eaten apple

food with a face

horseshoe

daffodil

castle

tea party

scared

bag of chips

camping

cabin

bonfire

ship

watering can

palm tree

wind chimes

armchair

fireworks

knife

wine cork

waitress

farmer

fountain

last leaf on a tree

saber toothed tiger

grocery store

rainbow

typewriter

engine

bluebird

shooting star

a new invention

school of fish

bearded lady

secret garden

suspension bridge

viking artifact

Eiffel tower

a feast for a king

guitar

tree house

seashell

dinosaur

sea lion

Taj Mahal

your favorite animal in a tuxedo

#art prompt #drawing #drawing prompt #challenge

36 notes · View notes

starrywisdomsect · 5 years

Photo

In 1931, Robert Barlow and Lovecraft began their friendship in the same manner that many of Lovecraft’s friendships began, through written correspondence. Barlow was a fan of Lovecraft’s regular contributions to Weird Tales, and asked all the usual fanboy questions, inquiring as to when he began to write, if he was working on anything currently, and of course, that age-old question, ‘is the Necronomicon real?’

Within the next week, Lovecraft had written him back, as it is a well-known fact that Lovecraft was a voluminous correspondent. In his relatively short lifetime, he wrote more than fifty thousand letters, second only to Voltaire in surviving correspondence. This letter was the beginning of a rather strange friendship, one that changed the course of Robert Barlow’s young life, and changed Lovecraft’s life as well.

Robert Barlow, whose father was an army colonel, had grown up on various military bases in the Southern United States, until increasing paranoid delusions ended his father’s military career, and the family settled in a “sturdy and defensible” home in Florida. With this recent relocation and the nomadic lifestyle of his early years, Barlow had no friends, and he would have been hard-pressed to find anyone nearby with interests similar to his own. He played the piano, sculpted in clay, painted, and collected weird fiction. When the mood struck him, Barlow was also known to hunt snakes and bind books with their skin.

In a memoir about the summer he spent with Lovecraft, Robert Barlow wrote: “I had no friends nor studies except in a sphere bound together by the U.S. mails.”

Barlow and Lovecraft’s friendship grew, as Barlow typed several of Lovecraft’s manuscripts, and Lovecraft revised several of Barlow’s stories. Eventually, in the spring of 1934, Lovecraft received an invitation from Barlow to visit his family in Florida. Lovecraft acquiesced, but was surprised to be greeted by a sixteen year old boy when he alighted from the bus in DeLand, Florida. Lovecraft was forty-three, and Barlow had never mentioned his age.

The two of them certainly made a strange pair, the older man in a rumpled suit, and the slender, bespeckled youth, as they composed couplets together, rowed on the nearby lake, and collected berries in the woods.

Lovecraft enjoyed the Florida weather, writing: “I feel like a new person—as spry as a youth,” and enjoyed Barlow’s company. “Never before in the course of a long lifetime have I seen such a versatile child.”

In fact, Lovecraft made a return trip to Florida the following summer, in 1935, and stayed for an extended period of more than two months. On this vacation, he and Barlow worked on the construction of a cabin on the family property, and explored a nearby cypress jungle. The following summer, Barlow visited Lovecraft in Providence, and together they visited Salem and Marblehead, two locales Lovecraft had featured heavily in is fictional output.

Some Lovecraft and literary scholars have speculated that Lovecraft was secretly gay, but the defining feature of his sexuality was how blasé his attitude appeared to be towards sex. Lovecraft’s former wife, Sonia Greene, described him as an “adequately excellent lover,” which is certainly faint praise. However, Lovecraft regularly associated with younger gay writers, such as Barlow himself, Samuel Loveman, and Hart Crane, though he was quick to condemn homosexuality in his letters, and would later discourage Barlow from writing homoerotic fiction.

Robert Barlow, on the other hand, was gay, and apparently sexually active during his adult years. A line in the published version of his 1944 memoir reads: “Life was all literary then.” However, the unedited typescript includes a more telling version of that sentence. “Life, save for secret desires which I knew must be suppressed, and which centered about a charming young creature with the sensitivity of a… was all literary then.”

Barlow came to Providence immediately upon receiving a telegram from Lovecraft's aunt Annie Gamwell about Lovecraft's death. Lovecraft's "Instructions In Case Of Decease", a separate document from his will, appointed Barlow his literary executor. This was intended as an honor, but for Barlow it was an unmitigated disaster.

Two of Lovecraft’s devoted literary followers, Donald Wanderi and the infamous August Derleth, demanded that Barlow give them Lovecraft’s manuscripts, and jealously spread rumors that Barlow had stolen them without legitimate permission. When a fellow member of the Lovecraft Circle, Clark Ashton Smith, heard these rumors he wrote to Barlow: “Please do not write me or try to communicate with me in any way. I do not wish to see you or hear from you after your conduct in regard to the estate of a late beloved friend.”

The effect of this letter, Barlow wrote, “was of cutting out my entrails with a meat cleaver.” He had lost all of his friends and literary acquaintances, and was practically in exile. He pondered suicide, but instead began to study anthropology at Berkeley. In 1943, Barlow moved to Mexico and travelled to the Yucatán to study the Mayans, and to western Guerrero, to study the Tepuztecs. He taught anthropology at Mexico City College, founded two scholarly journals, and published around a hundred and fifty articles, pamphlets, and books.

However, he was constantly unhappy.

Barlow had written as early as 1944 that he had "a subtle feeling that my curious and uneasy life is not destined to prolong itself.” This presentiment came to pass, when in 1950, after a disgruntled student threatened to expose him as gay, Barlow committed suicide at his home in Azcapotzalco on the first or second of January. On that afternoon, he locked himself in his room, took twenty six capsules of Seconal, leaving pinned upon his door in Mayan pictographs "Do not disturb me. I want to sleep a long time."

Though Lovecraft’s legacy continues to resound through horror fiction to this day, his friend, fan, and frequent collaborator Robert Barlow is all but forgotten. His greatest piece of weird fiction, “The Night Ocean,” is almost entirely attributed to Lovecraft now, though he added merely a few sentences to Barlow’s story. Perhaps, as we Lovecraft aficionados celebrate pride month, we can spare a few moments to read one of R.H. Barlow’s spooky stories, and raise a glass in memoriam of a promising life cut short by the homophobia of an unkind world.

Sources:

La Farge, P. (2017). The Complicated Friendship of H. P. Lovecraft and Robert Barlow, One of His Biggest Fans. The New Yorker.

R. H. Barlow. (2019). In: Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

#robert barlow #pride month #lovecraft #h.p. lovecraft #H. P. Lovecraft #lgbt author #cosmic horror

357 notes · View notes

joemuggs · 4 years

Text

Kranky by Name...

Listening to the new Windy & Carl album I was reminded of the enduring greatness of the Kranky label, and that led me to dig up this piece I wrote, originally for the eMusic site, in 2011. There’s a ton of good music here.

Kranky's great skill is escapology; it is practically defined by its ability to evade definition. If there is received wisdom about the Chicagoan label, it's as a home for abstracted guitars, moody soundscapes and occasionally spiky electronic beats: all very serious, very studious, very intense. And maybe when Bruce Adams and Joel Leoschke founded it in 1993 it could be pegged as a relatively straightforward experimental-leaning indie label – but with each release it slips under, around, and away from standard categories. “Post-rock” doesn't capture the sheer variety of its guitar-based output, “ambient” is far too vague a term for its more textural releases, and “electronica” can't even come close to describing its more far-out sonic experiments. And despite its own claim to have “a very specific aesthetic” there is variety – such variety – in its catalogue. For every jittery and discordant Nudge record, there's Tim Hecker one that washes over you with waves of bliss; for every Charalambides creeping around disturbing corners of rare mindstates, there's an Out Hud that leaps out at you with vim, vivacity and a spring in its step. What unites them is a sense of switched-on intellects, outsider intelligences seeing what can be done with sound without getting sucked into academic self-regard – but the sounds themselves ebb and flow into new shapes with almost every release. 18 years into its existence, Kranky dares you to try and pin it down.

ESCAPING INDIE ROCK: Labradford 'A Stable Reference' 1995

A Stable Reference by Labradford

Kranky Records began in 1993 with Labradford's 'Prazision' album – a great and unique album, but still recognisably rooted in the same indie-rock soil as the likes of Spacemen 3 and Galaxie 500. The perhaps ironically-titled 'A Stable Reference', however, represented a complete untethering from these reference points, an abstraction and release from rock tropes that – paradoxically – helped make much clearer what “a Kranky record” was. Infused with the most sinister atmospheres of Ennio Morricone and Popol Vuh soundtracks, it is by turns claustrophobic and sweeping in its scope, but always brooding, revealing its dark ideas at its own pace. The term “post-rock” seems almost laughably prosaic next to these strange maps of unknown emotions, but it does describe the way this record marked a real escape from standard structures for the guitar-centred band. Its influence on the releases that would follow is clear: not in its sound, but in the careful balance between freedom and focus that it set up.

(See also: Windy & Carl 'Depths', Spiny Anteaters 'Current', Dadamah 'This is Not a Dream')

THE MULTI-FACETED: AMP 'Stenorette' 1998

Stenorette by Amp

Some of Kranky's acts are as indefinable as the label itself, as perfectly illustrated by the loose-knit AMP. Based around the core of British duo Richard Walker and Karine Chaff, the band evolved rapidly through experimental rock styles until this album, made in collaboration with Robert Hampson of Loop/Main and beat programmer Olivier Gauthier, which takes a completely magpie approach to genre. From the Sonic Youth guitar clang of 'You are Here' to crystalline piano pieces like 'Songe' and 'Just-Ice', meandering analogue synth trickles to dubbed-out breakbeats, completely abstract drones to practically jaunty songs, 'Stenorette' pulls together dozens of disparate elements – yet they never feel chosen arbitrarily just for the sake of diversity, but rather are selected entirely according to the musical logic of the album. That it avoids sounding like some kooky postmodern collage is impressive; that it shows a coherent and compelling personality of its own is little short of a miracle.

(See also: Keith Fullerton Whitman 'Playthroughs', Deerhunter 'Microcastle / Weird Era Cont.')

THE ELEMENTAL SYMPHONY: Godspeed You Black Emperor! 'Lift Yr. Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven!' 2000

Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven by Godspeed You! Black Emperor

This is the big one. Originally releasing vinyl only on their Constellation label, the intense Canadian collective GYBE! found a simpatico home with Kranky to reach out to wider audiences, in particular with this glorious suite. Over four 20-minute tracks, they redraw the rule of structure for the rock band format, paced with impeccable patience as they build from delicately sketched frameworks, sometimes with spoken narration, to vast climactic plateaux of guitar distortion surrounded by the swooping orchestral lines of the Silver Mount Zion instrumentalists. Laden with meaning to be unpicked and decoded, the record expresses everything from political fortitude and cosmic awe to utter desolation, sweeping the listener along in a slowly-changing but unstoppable drama of absolutely staggering scale.

(See also: Stars Of The Lid 'The Tired Sound of Stars Of The Lid')

KRANKY GETS ITS GROOVE ON: Out Hud 'S.T.R.E.E.T. D.A.D.' 2002

Street Dad by Outhud

With all its strangeness and exploration of the darker crevices of the subconscious, it could be easy to categorise this as a label for wallflowers. But Kranky knows how to dance, never better shown than on the two albums by Out Hud. This, their debut, came out just as LCD Soundsystem were bursting onto the scene and !!! (who share three members with Out Hud) were finding their groove; disco-punk was the sound of the moment. But true to Kranky style, this album has a deeply psychedelic, improvisatory feel – like a more discofied Gang Gang Dance, perhaps – that makes it stand out a mile from its contemporaries. Despite the kookiness of track names like 'Hair Dude You're Stepping on my Mystique', the snaking grooves, acidic keyboard sounds and genuinely dubwise FX mark this out as a very serious piece of dancefloor art.

(See also: Fontanelle 'Style Drift', Jessamine 'Jessamine', Strategy 'Drumsolo's Delight')

FRACTURED PSYCHEDELICISMS: Charilambides 'Unknown Spin' 2003

Unknown Spin by Charalambides

Whether you call it “free folk”, “music of the new weird America” or just good old fashioned freakouts, there's no doubting that the music of Tom and Christina Carter comes from a very psychedelic place. Allied to the loose movement that includes Sunburned Hand Of The Man, MV&EE, No-Neck Blues Band etc, Charilambides make a more strung-out noise than most of their contemporaries, the sound of people unafraid to explore their inner landscape, however scary it might become. Sometimes loose and discordant to the point of complete meltdown, sometimes coagulating around recognisable guitar solos that unfold like they've escaped from a Jefferson Airplane jam, these four tracks – especially the half-hour title number – are spacey, spooky and very, very weird indeed.

(See also: Tom Carter 'Monument', Christina Carter 'Electrice')

INNER AMBIENCE: Pan American 'Quiet City' 2004

Quiet City by Pan•American

Some of Kranky's greatest releases are those that dissolve rhythm and float free into wide open imaginative spaces. Certain acts, like Ethernet, work entirely with electronics, but more often, as with Pan American, they will blur the label's rich traditions of processed guitar drone with musique concrète, ambient and even new age music to make elegantly layered sounds one can get completely lost in. But this is not music to switch off to and doesn't offer the anodyne comfort of “chillout”: as the title perhaps suggests, 'Quiet City' invites contemplation and exploration of its spaces, but like any city, while it is complex and beautiful, there is dirt and threat here too. Like sitting outside in chilly dawn air in the aftermath of a chaotic night or on the morning before a life-changing decision, it feels like it exists outside of the usual routine of things.

(See also: Tim Hecker 'Ravedeath, 1972' / Ethernet '144 Pulsations of Light' / White Rainbow 'Prism of Eternal Now' / Windy & Carl 'Songs for the Brokenhearted' / Keith Fullerton Whitman 'Multiples', Aix Em Klemm 'Aix Em Klemm')

PARALLEL WORLD POP: Atlas Sound 'Logos' 2009

Logos by Atlas Sound

Just as we all sometimes need a danceable rhythm, once in a while even the most dedicated noisenik or experimentalist secretly likes to hear a sweet melody – and Kranky provides that too, whether it's the mutant disco-pop of Out Hud's second record or the sweet hymns of Low. Alright, we're not talking Katy Perry here, but records like 'Logos' still shamelessly deal in the pleasure principle and instantly-recognisable songs and are passionately loved for that. The presence of Stereolab's Laetitia Sadier and Animal Collective's Noah Lennox (aka Panda Bear) shows the territory this record is operating in, with plenty of references to psychedelic pop and Krautrock of the past all put into a kaleidoscope and reflected into new technicolour patterns. There's nothing facile or zoned-out about it, though – this is the gimlet-eyed and singular vision of Deerhunter frontman and “true queer art punk” Bradford Cox, and it exposes new intensities and weirdnesses with every play.

(See also: Low 'Secret Name', To Kill A Petty Bourgeoisie 'The Patron', Deerhunter 'Spring Hall Convert', Out Hud 'Let us Never Speak of it Again')

#kranky #post rock #ambient #disco punk #experimental music #experimental rock #psychedelia #indie

1 note · View note

wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years

Text

A Memory Of The Smell of Smoke, Ch 5.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Everyone liked to pretend that Campbell had been born bad. That their fear and hatred were logical, rational, justified, because Campbell was a monster incapable of making the choice between good and evil. Because he couldn’t feel the way they did. Well, fuck that. He was gonna prove them wrong. At least, that had been the plan.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Emotional Baggage, Mental Health Issues, Child Abuse, Substance Abuse, Animal Death, Complicated Relationships, Pre-Slash, Denial of Feelings, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Implied Rape, Campbell has mild ASPD and is self aware enough to try and be better, the non-con is NOT Campbell, didn’t add an official warning because it is the aftermath only, yes it is the party becca mentioned and there will be a warning in the notes of that chapter, Campbell/Harry, Campbell/Elle.

Word Count: 4601 (chapter 5/5).

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || AO3

Then again, they do say that things get worse before they get better.

For whatever reason, Becca stopped talking to Campbell. He tried to text her to see if she was alright, but his number was blocked. He tried to talk to her, but she kept on walking. It would have been all too easy to get pissed off over it, but he shrugged and carried on with life. Perhaps she was embarrassed, or ashamed. Perhaps she wanted to pretend it never happened. Maybe it had been a really bad high. Who knew? But she wanted nothing to do with him, either way, and he didn't waste his time on people that obviously wanted him gone. Caring cost too much energy for that.

The end of the school year play was an adaptation of the film Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. Cassandra, of course, decided to try out. It was more surprising that Harry tried out, too. Naturally, they both got the lead roles. And why wouldn't they? Cassandra had always been an amazing actress, and now that Harry had cleaned up his image to make himself the cute goody-two-shoes co-captain of the debate team in order to be more appealing to Kelly, it made sense that he'd charm his way in.

Campbell didn't need to worry about that. He got recruited to help with the set, and that was fine. It was something to pass the time, as always, and Elle was often there to help with choreography. It was a nice, long distraction. By the time rehearsals were over, they had two weeks left until prom and three until graduation; it was so close to being over that Campbell could taste it, and damn it was good. The play itself would shave one week off, and everyone would be too busy going bananas over prom that they wouldn't have time for much idle gossip.

Perfect.

Or, at least, it would have been perfect. Just before the opening night of the play, something began to smell. Literally. Campbell was hanging out with a few of the drama club kids he'd met through the play, the five of them sharing a few orders of fries after a long day of getting the stage ready for the big event. They were on their way out when Campbell caught a whiff of what smelled like rotting flesh. He gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve, and soon the other teen were coughing as well.

"What the fuck is that?" demanded Elaine, a chunky girl with bright pink hair, ripped jeans, and an MCR shirt. "Jesus christ, Henry, I told you not to go for the chili fries."

Henry, a scrawny blond, made a noise of complaint. "It's not me!"

"The wind is coming from the northeast," Campbell interrupted as everyone began to blame each other. "It's probably in the wood somewhere. A sewer leak or something."

Everyone quieted down and agreed, but the smell only got worse and worse as the evening went on. The next morning, Campbell and Sam came downstairs to find their living room filled up with people. Their parents, Harry's mother, Aunt Amanda and Uncle Jim, a few other influential members of town... and in front of them all, their other uncle, Rogers. Frequently heard blustering on about some damn thing, usually something racist, he wasn't anyone Campbell had any desire to be around. But there he was, shouting about the smell and what to do about it.

Campbell tuned it all out and made breakfast for himself, slipping out the door and heading to school before he was noticed. The smell was, in fact, terrible. Students were whispering theories to each other all day. Campbell heard that the smell was a dead whale washed up on the coast and the wind was carrying the smell, that it was a terrorist attack, that it was ghosts coming to haunt the town for some misdeed, it was meth gone wrong... But in the end, there were no answers. Just a constant, unyielding reek that seemed to be coming from everywhere.

At the very least, the first night of the play went off without a hitch. Even if it smelled like a dead skunk basted with cow farts outside, Cassandra and Harry were beautiful, witty, and gave a flawless performance. No one really payed attention to the fact that there was a town meeting among the adults the next day; Campbell overheard his mother talking to his father about it, and how Uncle Rogers had contacted some guy named Pfeiffer to get rid of the smell.

Campbell flopped on Harry's bed as Harry dug around his closet for a suit to wear to prom. "Who the hell has a job in smell removal? Is that a thing?"

"Don't know, and who cares? As long as I can go back to eating without everything tasting faintly like septic tank, that's all I care about."

Whatever the Pfeiffer guy was about, the day after the town meeting, the smell did vanish as quickly as it had come. For short time, things went back to normal. Campbell stayed home-- you've seen one night in a play, you've seen them all, in his opinion-- to cook mushroom carbonara while everyone else was out. If nothing else, he knew how to make a good pan of noodles, and it gave him time to think about asking Elle to prom. A sort of asinine affair, something he and Cassandra agreed on, but it was the last big thing of high school. Maybe it was worth a shot.

On the last night of the play, the smell returned. It was even worse than before, so strong that it stung their eyes and made some of the younger kids choke; the adults called yet another emergency meeting, and this time, it was decided that the EPA would be contacted. Until then, all students 16 and over would be sent away on a camping trip until the smell was removed. An exciting prospect in Campbell's mind, considering his family had never been camping his whole life. A whole weekend in the middle of nowhere? Roasting marshmallows, hiking, swimming, freaking Allie out with spooky stories? Cool.

"Mom and dad wanted to know if you got your toothbrush," Sam signed as they stood on the school lawn, everyone waiting for the buses to pick them up. "Did you?"

"Tell them to get fucked."

Sam stared. Campbell forced a cheerful smile and headed off to go wait elsewhere. He was standing at the curb when he heard someone approaching; he turned his head, ready to tell Sam to leave him alone, when Campbell realized it was Grizz heading his way. He was pale, his gait fast and jaw tight as he glanced around. Huh. Weird. The football player never really seemed nervous about much.

"Hey Campbell," Grizz greeted. "I have a question for you."

"I'm flattered, but I'm already asking someone to prom."

Narrowing his eyes, Grizz glared at him. "Hey. No, it's... Did you tag the wall of the church last night?"

"What?" Campbell blinked. "I'm no fan of Christianity, but no. I didn't tag the church with anything. Why?"

"Just wondering. There's some creepy Bible quote on one of the outside walls. Just thought maybe you'd know something about it."

"Someone's probably just dicking with us, man."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

There wasn't much time to debate it. Cassandra and her gaggle joined them at the curb, all of them eagerly chattering at Grizz, who seemed to be the group Boy Scout and everyone wanted camping advice. Five school buses pulled up soon after, and everyone began to pile on. One of the few places left on the bus was next to Elle; she had a look on her face that was positively icy, but he decided to take the chance anyways.

Campbell rested his hand on the seat and nodded to the empty space next to her. "Hey, I'm Campbell. Do you mind if I sit here?"

Elle glanced up at him. She didn't smile, didn't speak, but she shrugged a little and moved over enough to make room.

"Excited for the trip?"

"Not especially. I prefer indoor plumbing. You?"

"I don't know. It might be an adventure."

"An adventure, huh? From what I hear, you make plenty of your own excitement."

"Oh? Where'd you hear that?"

"I just pay attention."

Campbell leaned a little closer. She didn't flinch away, but she was watching him with a cautious intensity he hadn't seen from many others before. "It's too bad we've been going to school together all this time, and never really talked, don't you think?"

"What is there for us to talk about?"

"Dance, maybe. How many years did you do ballet before you moved here?"

"You know about that?"

"I pay attention, too."

That earned him the tiniest of smirks. "Okay, smartass. What else do you know about me?"

"Your family moved here from New York when you were about twelve. You tried to make friends with Lexie and her goon squad, but they ignored you and ever since then you've kinda just been alone. You spend most of your time reading, or playing the piano."

"Piano."

"Junior year, we had math together and Gelstein let us listen to music during tests." Campbell placed his fingers on the back of the seat in front of him, moving them along like he was tapping on invisible keys. "You'd move your fingers along to the music, but you thought no one noticed because you sat in the back."

"Ohh, you've got a good eye. Yeah, I can play the piano. But I feel like that's cheating a little. You sat right next to me."

"That's true. I also know that you eat all the green M&Ms first, and that is not something I found out sitting next to you."

Elle leaned back and arched her eyebrows. "You know, some people might considered that level of observation a little creepy."

"Do you think it is?"

"I don't know yet."

"Think you'll know in time for prom?"

"Well, how about this." She was smiling now, and the corners of her eyes crinkled a little. "Ask me when this trip is over."

A fair enough deal. They spent the rest of the morning discussing music, art, and entertainment; Campbell had to stop and let Elle ramble from time to time, though he noticed she did the same and wondered if it was for the same reason. He wasn't used to talking, to the point where he was getting winded. They had similar enough tastes, as far as modern music was concerned, and a similar view on politics. He liked modern dance, while she liked the more traditional forms, but it was still a shared interest.

They continued talking until the sun set and the bus fell silent, with students falling asleep as the bus ride continued well into the night. Elle slumped over near midnight, resting her head on his shoulder. She yawned, content. "This is fun. How come we've never talked before?"

"I don't know." Campbell allowed her to nestle close. He wanted to stroke her hair, but he kept his hands to himself. He didn't want to scare her by being too much, too fast. "I guess I was scared to approach you."

"Why?"

"Because you're pretty, and I'm trouble."

Ella closed her eyes, voice muffled as she drifted off to sleep. "Maybe I'm trouble, too."

Cute, but it was hard to imagine. Not because she was a girl or because she was small-- he'd seen a 4'11" girl take down a two hundred and fifty pound football player with one well aimed kick to the dick-- but because he'd never heard a single bad word about her from anyone who mattered. Well, who knew. Maybe she had a rap sheet from back home in New York. Campbell smiled a little, falling asleep himself soon after.

He had no clue how much time had passed when the school bus jerked to a halt. He stirred, blinking as the lights on the bus flickered back on. Everyone was murmuring, trying to figure out what was going on. Were they there? It was supposed to be a twelve hour ride, including breaks along the way, but they had left at three in the evening and the time on his phone said it was only a little past one in the morning.

"Change of plans," the bus driver said. His tone was flat. Bored. "Rock slides. The road is closed. You're back home."

The murmurs turned into sounds of disbelief. Campbell stood as the bus doors opened, making his way out along with everyone else. He stopped on the school lawn, and stared out into the darkness; there was no one there, no one besides the other students, and the weird smell was gone. It couldn't have been fixed that fast. The useless government never did anything fast, and it hadn't even been a full day yet.

"The fuck," he muttered as the buses all pulled away and left. "What is this?"

Ella stood next to him, frowning. "Strange. That's what."

Everyone began texting, calling. Campbell tried his father's number, knowing Sam was probably going to call their mother. It rang, and didn't stop ringing. No answer. No voicemail, even. He glanced around. He could see the worry and panic on everyone else as they seemed to be reaching similar results. No one was answering. Something was obviously wrong. With the smell gone, he wondered if it really had been a gas leak, and now everyone was fucking dead. Only one way to know for sure.

Plastering a smile on his face, Campbell looked to Sam and shrugged like it was no big deal. Make it seem like everything was fine. No need to freak out and start some kind of mass riot. "Well, I'm going home."

Sam grabbed his arm. His eyes were wide, and he was obviously at that freak out point already. "You're not going to wait for me?" he whispered, not bothering to even sign.

Campbell made a quick sign. "Hurry up, then."

He kept walking, and soon enough he heard footsteps trailing behind him. They walked in silence for a bit, before Sam signed to him. "Where do you think our parents are?"

"Home. Asleep."

"Do you think that's all?"

"Yeah." Campbell didn't believe it for a second, but Sam didn't need to know that right then. "Probably."

When they made it home, the cars were still there. All the lights were out inside. Campbell went in first, calling out to their parents, but there was no answer. Campbell and Sam exchanged a look; Sam's lips pursed, knowing without any words passing between them what the look meant. They were alone. Campbell searched downstairs, then headed upstairs. He didn't even care that Sam was right on his heels. It meant that they could both confirm at the same time that they were, in fact, alone in the house.

"No note," Sam said. "No message on the phone. Where could they be?"

Campbell frowned. He didn't have a damn clue what to tell his brother, but then their phones both began to blow up. Campbell looked at his, hoping for the first time in forever that it was their parents, but it was Harry. His mother was gone. Kelly's parents, too. No one could reach anyone, and their data was all knocked out.

Probably from the storm, Campbell texted back.

Yeah, Harry answered, and did the storm take all our parents too?

A good question. Suddenly he had texts from Elle and Cassandra, even Allie, asking where he and Sam were and could they find anyone. Cassandra finally texted for the two of them to meet her and everyone else back at the school. ASAP.

"Are you gonna go?" Sam asked.

It wasn't even really worth thinking about. Of course he was going to go, if only so he could get some idea of where things were heading. People were gonna start wigging out, and Campbell knew history well enough to know that a bunch of teenagers alone and afraid never meant anything good. And maybe someone, somewhere, had actually found something. Campbell nodded to Sam, and they both headed out to meet with Cassandra.

By the time they got to the school, a crowd had formed. Not everyone, and mostly seniors, but enough for Campbell to know it'd get ugly if the impromptu meeting didn't go well. Elle was there; she came over and stood at his side, one arm crossed in front of her chest and the other tangled up in her hair, her bottom lip pouting out a little. She opened her mouth to speak, but then someone else-- one of the football players, loud and brash-- yelled out.

"Who decided we needed a flash mob?"

Cassandra stepped out of the shadows. She stood on the other side of Campbell, pulling herself tall. "I did."

"What the fuck, Cassandra?"

"Better than 200 people sending texts. Has anyone been able to reach anyone?" she asked. The crowd was either silent, or mumbled a negative. "No one? Okay. Well, there's... there's definitely a simple explanation."

A voice Campbell didn't recognize yelled out. "Like what?"

"Um. They, uh." Cassandra glanced at Campbell. He said nothing, hell, he didn't even move; if anyone thought he was influencing her, they'd never listen. "They were evacuated, after we left. And there was a miscommunication, and we were brought back here by mistake."

"Someone would still answer a phone," Kelly pointed out.

"Maybe they're asleep. I don't know, maybe they some place with no reception. They're in a shelter with... with no reception, or something. In the morning, someone will answer a phone."

Goddamn it. Cassandra, cool and collected Cassandra, was losing it. Standing this close to her, Campbell could tell that she was shaking. Not much, but enough that Campbell felt a spark of worry. They were supposed to be the reasonable ones. Cassandra was valedictorian, disliked and unpopular but vocal and well-known in their senior class. If Cassandra lost it, the rest wouldn't be far behind.

"Maybe it's not safe for us to be here, if they all left."

"A couple hours isn't gonna make a difference. We'll figure this all out in the morning. Right now, we should just... uh, go home. Yeah, we should go home. And anyone who doesn't want to, uh, be alone can come back to our house. Right?"

Allie smiled when Cassandra looked to her. "Sure."

"Is that your advice, Cassandra?"

It had to be Harry that challenged her. Campbell cursed under his breath, and resisted the urge to strangle him. Cassandra and Harry always had been rivals, butting heads over everything and fighting for power at every turn, with Cassandra usually emerging victorious. But what about now, when people were scared and tensions were climbing?

"Yeah. Yeah, Harry, yeah, just go to sleep."

Harry rolled his eyes, but people began to disperse. Well, some people. The majority stayed put, hovering around closer to Harry and the jock brigade; they were whispering about the local liquor store, and Campbell took the moment to sidle over to Cassandra while everyone else seemed distracted.

"Do you honestly believe any of that?" he wondered, lowering his voice.

Cassandra shook her head. She took a breath, but it was already all too clear that she was out of her depth. "I have to, right now. It won't do any good tonight to think about it too much. We need to all go home, get some rest, and see what tomorrow brings."

"You know as well as I do that if we don't start preparing for the worst now, tomorrow it's gonna hit and this whole place is gonna go all Lord of the Flies."

"What the hell do you think happened?"

"Cassie, haven't you noticed anything else, besides our missing families?"

"The smell."

"Yeah, the smell. How are you gonna explain that to them? Or did the smell go to a shelter with no reception, too?"

Biting her lip, Cassandra looked at the crowd gathering around Harry. Before she could say anything else, Allie came prancing up, a cheeky smile on her face. "Cassandra. Campbell." His name was said like it was something disgusting, and her smile hardened just a bit. "I guess the guys are planning to raid the liquor store and have a party. Coming?"

"Really?" Cassandra sighed. "No way. I'm going to head home and try to figure this out. Please don't burn anything down."

Allie grinned and made her way back to her friends. Cassandra, Gordie, and their friend Bean headed off towards home. Campbell knew it'd be for the best to just leave, but he could see that Sam was staying, and Elle was watching him expectantly. Harry was waving them both over, and Campbell sighed. Might as well. Despite how bizarre it all was, the idea of not having to race home by ten and play Good And Normal Son with his parents was appealing.

"What was that about?" Elle asked. Her tone was light, but her eyes were sharp. "With you and Cassandra?"

"Oh, just cousin bickering. How about this party, huh?"

It started as just a bunch of them hanging out on the front yard of the church, with beers getting passed around. Campbell and Elle camped out in a quieter corner, each with their own drink. But within fifteen minutes, Clark had discovered that the church doors were open. It seemed wrong. So, so very wrong. That's what made it fun. Campbell smirked as people texted their friends, brought more liquor, and rigged up some music. The air was just vibrating with bass and the cheers of about a hundred drunk, high teenagers. It was blasphemous, and oh, they were all loving it.

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces?" Campbell laughed with Elle as he downed another cup of alcohol. "Those stuck up fucks would piss themselves."

Elle answered, but her voice was muffled. Far away. His vision was dimmer around the edges and he felt good; he grabbed Elle by the hand and led her out to where people were dancing. Harry's shitty little pity parties had never appealed to him much, and certainly not the stiff swaying back and forth of school dances with their parent-approved music, but this? This was something new, different. They could do anything and they weren't going to get caught. Not yet. The cats were away, and they were all a bunch of fucking rats ready to play.

At least, that's what Campbell thought, but after people started pouring beers off the second story, Elle retreated into an empty stairway. Campbell followed. A bad idea, in hindsight, but they'd been having a good time. Hadn't they? She had tucked herself into a corner, wiping beer off her skin and wringing it from her hair; Campbell stepped closer, smiling.

"I don't know, I think you look kinda hot this way."

Elle didn't look at him. "Yeah, well, I don't really care what anyone else thinks right now."

"Hey. Why are you spoiling all the fun?" Campbell asked. She didn't say anything, just giving him an irritated look. "Is it like a ballerina thing? Act all cold? Is that..."

Without a word, she tried to push past him. Campbell grabbed her arm, but she spun around and fixed him with a glare. "Seriously?"

Campbell blinked. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but she was angry, and he let go of her arm. She kept walking, heading towards the exit. He sighed, mumbling under his breath so she wouldn't hear. "Your loss."

Everything after that was mostly a very long blur, ending in a wall of black. Not something he'd done in a while, getting completely wasted, and not something he was eager to repeat when he woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache. Light hurt, sound hurt. The worst part was that he just barely remembered what happened with Elle.

"Shit," he groaned as his phone blasted him with full brightness. Still, he managed to tap out a text to her. I'm sorry about last night. I'm an asshole and I was drunk. Forgive me? "Send."

It was the best he could do at that second. Campbell dragged himself out of bed, stumbling downstairs where Sam was making breakfast. Sam glanced at him, flipping some bacon. Campbell wanted to gag at the smell, but there was a small stack of toasted Eggo waffles on the counter, and he snagged one of those.

"No parents," Sam signed. "No calls or anything."

Campbell just waved his hand and sunk his face into his arm. He figured. There hadn't been any furious screaming about the state of the church, after all. Sam sat down at the table, and Campbell raised his head enough to watch him for a moment. Now that he was sober, he was back to being able to read people. He could see on Sam's face that Sam was scared. He kept eyeing Campbell, then looking away, and shifting like his body just didn't want to sit still. His body was turned away. Closed off. Insecure. He didn't like being alone with Campbell.

Well, who did anymore, really?

His phone buzzed. He hoped it was Elle, but it was from Harry. Campbell tapped on the notification, and stared at the text. Get to the bridge. NOW.

Sam's phone went off next. "Becca wants me at the bridge outside of town."

Please, a second text read. I'm scared.

Harry had never said that, not in all the years they'd been friends. Campbell stuffed another waffle in his mouth, and threw on his flannel shirt. "Let's go."

It took almost twenty minutes to jog there. Sam kept up, thankfully. Campbell wasn't about to wait around when Harry was reduced to begging. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his stomach more than ever. The closer he got, the more he could see there was a small crowd formed. Cassandra, Allie, Becca, Will. Gordie, Bean, Kelly. Luke, Clark, Grizz, Harry. Helena. Sam went to his friends, who were sitting by the railing of the bridge; Campbell went to Harry, who was crowded around his far with the jocks and Helena.

"What's going on?" Campbell hissed, pulling Harry off to the side. "You look ready to pass the fuck out."

Harry just pointed. Campbell followed the line of sight. Trees. Trees had completely demolished the train tracks leading out of town. They just... ended. Campbell went to turn back to Harry, and noticed the same thing had happened to the road, too. He rubbed his eyes; maybe he was still drunk, or someone had slipped him something. But no. It was like a wall of forest.

Harry spoke, only just audible. "It's like that the whole way around." He was breathing faster, his voice trembling faintly. "We tried the internet, Bean tried to call 911. Nothing. There's no one out there. We're trapped."

Campbell reached out, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry leaned into the touch ever so slightly. Adults and the younger kids, gone. The smell, gone. A natural barrier, cutting them off from every escape route, and they were-- for the moment-- alone. How? He couldn't fathom, but how didn't exactly matter at the moment. What mattered was that this was reality. Somehow, some way, they were going to have to survive it.

They were worse than trapped.

They were completely, truly, screwed.

6 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 5 years

Note

Can we get some fluffy/steamy Spiderbyte featuring Widowmaker's Black Lily dress? I could see it becoming one of Sombra's favorites

Arrrgh this has been sitting in my inbox since literally last Lunar New Year because I wanted to write it but couldn’t really come up with anything beyond “Widowmaker… Hot” at the time…like all my spiderbyte prompts I didn’t really have the heart to delete it though. But with Lunar New Year and Femslash February once again upon us, and me noticing I don’t actually have a lot of Talon-Centric fics and like… sexual tension fics for Spiderbyte, so I’m taking a crack at it now!

(Also I just realized I don’t think I’ve written much Moira interacting with Talon members aside from Gabe? Gotta fix that.)

I think Widowmaker’s hair is going to be closer to her “hairpin” spray than with the full tactical headdress here.

—-

Sombra sipped at a sour, smoky cocktail of mezcal and Lapsang Souchong, leaning against the railing of Vialli’s luxury barge and looking out over Singapore’s waters. The night air was warm, muggy, and salty. The city glittered on the coast, looking like jewel-toned flames springing up from the red embers of the red lanterns lining the streets below. Sombra herself was dressed for the occasion in a black cropped silk jacket over a long red and gold dress. Not her usual color scheme, but one she could pull off pretty well and one that conveniently covered up most of her spinal implants. She had parted her hair to hide her neural implants as well. She knew the party was at least 90% Talon allies with the remaining 10% being those who were likely to be brought into the fold, but still, for her, you could never be too careful.

“I’m surprised you’re not in there,” a smooth and deep Irish accent cut through the mugginess as Moira stepped up alongside Sombra, towering over her almost comically, “Personal data being exchanged, secrets being loosened by drink, compromising situations just waiting to happen… I imagine that’d be a buffet for you.”

“Max said we weren’t working tonight,” said Sombra, smiling a little and sipping her drink.

“Ah but the work is never finished for us, is it?” said Moira, swirling her whiskey in its glass. Sombra didn’t dislike Moira–sure, the geneticist cut a pretty spooky figure, but there was a combination of aggressive independence and professionalism about her that Sombra could respect. Honor among thieves, she supposed. Moira was looking a bit more feminine than usual tonight in a violet qipao.

“Never is,” Sombra agreed before clinking her glass against Moira’s.

“Start any wars lately?” Moira quipped–subtle ego stroking, Sombra didn’t mind, but it wasn’t anything that would bring them any closer. Moira probably knew that.

“I’d have to check my schedule,” said Sombra, “Start any plagues?”

“Well they won’t be plagues until they’re released on the general populace, you understand,” said Moira with a smile before sipping her own whiskey. Sombra didn’t really want to know if she was joking, not tonight. She gave a glance back at the interior of the barge–air conditioned, she was sure, otherwise with how crowded it was in there, more people should have been flooding out where she was.

“It’s been a good year for us,” Moira went on, leaning against the railing, “I hope you realize we owe no small part of that to you.”

“I try,” said Sombra with a shrug.

“You do a lot more than that. I feel there could be a lot of mutual benefit having someone with as great a command of information as you in the inner circle.”

Sombra was quiet at this, giving a tentative sip to her drink. The work really never was done with Moira–not even Talon’s inner politics.

“New year, new opportunities,” Moira spoke a bit airily, swirling her whiskey again, “Just something to consider.” She sipped her drink.

Buttering it on thick, aren’t you? thought Sombra. “You offering me a seat at the table?” Sombra arched an eyebrow.

“That depends on if you’re inclined to accept,” said Moira, bringing the glass down from her lips, her voice a bit husky with the burn of whiskey.

Sombra wasn’t inclined. She knew Akande’s special little club with their big table in Venice would only put more eyes on her, only slow her down. She knew Talon was pulling a lot of strings, and she wouldn’t mind getting her own hands on some, but gut instinct told her Moira was not the way to do that. If she ever did make it to the big kid’s table, she wouldn’t want to be carried there in someone’s pocket. Moira was the last person you wanted to owe favors to, as well.

“I’m a little busy with my own stuff right now,” said Sombra, examining her nails.

“To be expected,” said Moira, “Well the offer stands,” she pushed off of the railing and headed back towards the doors to the interior of the barge, “And if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“I know where to find anyone, it’s kind of my thing,” said Sombra with a grin.

Moira gave a soft chuckle, a narrow silhouette against the light of the barge’s window’s behind her. From the inside of the barge, a swell of music was muted by the window glass, but Sombra’s eyes flicked from the shadow of Moira to two figures past the glass. Widowmaker was walking past, her arm hooked in Doomfist’s. Sombra’s eyes widened at the sight of her. She knew Widowmaker was no stranger to fashion–her number at Maximilien’s casino a few months back was proof enough of that, but this look blew the Monaco dress out of the water. Ornate and body-hugging, the aubergine cheongsam featured a daring slash up the front of her thigh, and bared the spider tattoo on her back. Her earrings were dripping with rubies and her hair was done up in an intricately looped updo pinned in place by a hairpin sporting a large, dangling blood-red mystic knot of silk. And stockings–of course the Parisian had to be sporting lacy sheer black stockings.

Sombra brought her martini glass to her lips to try and hide her staring but one glance at Moira and she knew it was obvious. Again, she didn’t dislike Moira, but she didn’t like Moira knowing a lot about her. She didn’t like most people knowing a lot about her. She didn’t like anyone knowing anything about her but Moira smiled a bit, following Sombra’s line of sight to Akande and Widowmaker.

“Talon’s crown jewel,” Moira said, looking admiringly on Widowmaker. Some part of Sombra’s stomach knotted. Sombra wasn’t sure how much involvement Moira had in making Widowmaker…. well, Widowmaker—She wasn’t sure how many records of that time had been destroyed. And Moira was still in Blackwatch then…No. Not the time to fixate on that.

“Seeing a pattern between this and Monaco,” Sombra said, glancing at Akande as he spoke to Maximilien with Widowmaker on his arm, “They’re not…”

Moira laughed a little. “Do you honestly think she’s even capable of those kinds of feelings?” she said, looking back at Widowmaker, “No. We made her perfect. But you know Akande–Likes to make an entrance.”

The music thrummed against the wood and glass and Maximilien took Widowmaker’s free hand. He bent and kissed it (Well kissed it about as much as an omnic could manage) and then gestured to the dance floor. Sombra’s brow furrowed and her lips pursed as Widowmaker broke away from Akande and disappeared into the crowd of the dance floor with Maximilien. Sombra started briskly walking toward the doors.

“Play nice, Sombra,” said Moira, clear amusement in her voice as Sombra pushed past her for the door.

Sombra suddenly gulped down her Lapsang Souchong cocktail, “Oh, I’m playing nice,” she said, and tossed the martini glass over her shoulder, over the ship’s railing where it splashed soundlessly into Singapore’s bay. She pushed through the doors and entered the crowded interior of the party. Sombra knew how to move through a crowd. She knew how to be the person no one looked at. Despite the mezcal now burning in her solar plexus and hazing her senses slightly, her footing was sure and direct. Her heels clicked across the wood until she stepped out onto the barge dance floor. She only had to scan the crowd briefly to see Widowmaker and Maximilien dancing.

A socialite, a rich suit with a face she couldn’t be bothered with recognizing right now, one of the 10% and therefore, probably an idiot, blocked her vision briefly.

“Where have you been all ni–” he started with charm but Sombra completely ignored him and walked past him.

The music was a combination of east and west–Big band compositions rendered atmospheric and romantic by the erhu and guzheng, and the singer of the band giving a lovely Malay cover of Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night” while piano dripped in and out. Widowmaker’s tattoo bobbed through the crowd as Maximilien danced her across the floor. Between the multiple couples to push through, it took Sombra a good couple of seconds to reach them. It didn’t really occur to her that maybe this wasn’t a good idea until she tapped Maximilien on the shoulder. He turned his head and looked at her. Widowmaker lifted her chin slightly to look past her shoulder and there were maybe three seconds where Sombra remembered, Right. Big kid’s table, as she looked at Maximilien.

“Can I help you?” Maximilien said, looking down on her. For a brief second Sombra wondered if her need to take down or control all the corrupt systems of the world were a part of a Napoleon complex, but one glance at Widowmaker’s eyes and she stared into the red glare of Maximilien’s eyes without fear. She hadn’t been afraid of a man in a suit in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“I was hoping I could cut in,” said Sombra, extending a hand toward Widowmaker.

Maximilien managed to make a waltz position look statue-still as he looked down at Sombra. “That would depend on Mademoiselle,” he said, giving a glance over to Widowmaker.

This isn’t about Amélie, Sombra realized immediately, This is about power. Big kid’s table. This was about her knowing her place in the organization. About Amélie knowing her place in the organization. Sombra made eye contact with Widowmaker, wondering if she could see the same, wondering if she knew the same, wondering how much was behind those yellow eyes.

Moira’s voice echoed in her head. Do you honestly think she’s capable of those kinds of feelings?

Bad idea, Sombra realized, Bad, bad, bad idea. You’re counting on the favor of someone who was literally brainwashed to have no preference. But Sombra couldn’t pull out. She couldn’t say, “You know what, you look you’re having fun, I’ll leave you alone,” because then Maximilien would know that she would back down where Talon wanted her to, and she couldn’t have that. She just had to brace for the humiliation of Widowmaker’s rejection. That was it. No one knew who she was at this party. It didn’t matter. Sombra was a ghost. A shadow. Her shield. It would all just go right through her. Maximilien–well she could deal with Maximilien later.

A long pause passed between the three of them, the other bodies on the dance floor still shifting and gliding to the music around them.

“Well—” Maximilien started after a few beats.

“Mademoiselle accepts,” said Widowmaker, breaking away from him and taking Sombra’s hand.

“What–I mean, well of course, as you wish,” said Maximilien, pulling away from them with all the grace he could muster.

“Oh–” said Sombra as Widowmaker took her hand and put a hand on her hip. Her hands were cool–not cold, Singapore was too warm for their usual clamminess, but the coolness was a comfort that Sombra could feel through the silk of her dress.

“I’ll lead,” said Widowmaker, “I’m taller–is that all right?”

Sombra nodded dumbly as Widowmaker stepped into a dance. At that point, the last song ended and a Malay cover of “It’s Only a Paper Moon” started. Widowmaker knew how to dance—she knew how to lead. Sombra could feel her face burning and the mezcal still burning in her gut. She knew she could hold her liquor better than most but she was hyperaware of any misstep she could make now, but Widowmaker looked down at her.

“That was bold,” said Widowmaker after a minute or so of dancing.

“Psh,” Sombra bunched up her shoulders, “You think just because he’s got a chair in Venice that I’m scared of him?”

“You should be scared.”

“Don’t have to be scared if I’m smart,” said Sombra.

“Stepping on the toes of Talon superiors is not smart,” said Widowmaker, flatly.

“Well sorry for figuring you didn’t want to spend the night as someone’s hood ornament,” said Sombra.

Widowmaker smirked a little. “I can handle myself,” she said with a smile.

“I know you can,” said Sombra as Widowmaker twirled her, “But it’s New Year’s. I figure you’d want to have fun.”

They swayed to the music a while longer.

“Tell me something,” said Sombra.

“Mm?”

“Would you want a chair on the council?” asked Sombra, “Y’know… Venice?”

Widowmaker looked thoughtful. “I wasn’t made to lead,” she said after a long while, “I was made to kill.”

A part of Sombra wanted to debate the terms of Widowmaker being ‘made’ but she knew that was a whole other can of worms, so instead she simply proceeded in the same line of the conversation. “But if you lead, you could direct Talon so it kills better,” said Sombra.

“I don’t want to leave the field,” said Widowmaker, her eyes scanning across the crowd on the dancefloor, “I had more than my fill of the politics in Monaco.”

“Akande likes you, though,” said Sombra.

“Because I do my job,” said Widowmaker, a barb and a smile in her voice.

“Mean,” said Sombra.

“I know,” said Widowmaker.

Widowmaker just smirked and swayed Sombra across the dance floor. “You do know how to make a night interesting,” she conceded. Widowmaker studied Sombra for a moment. “You changed your hair,” she said after a beat.

“Yeah well… you know these parties,” said Sombra, with a shrug, “It’s not bad, is it?”

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” said Widowmaker. She tucked a bit of Sombra’s hair back, revealing one of the metallic nubs of her neural implants, “There–”

Sombra instinctively brought her hand up and tucked her hair back over the nub. Widowmaker’s hand pulled back slightly.

“Sorry,” Sombra glanced off.

Widowmaker shook her head, “I understand,” she said after a beat. They danced a while longer. Widowmaker smelled good–Perfume didn’t really trail off of her the way it should with her lower body temperature, it took the warmth of the room for it to occasionally bloom off of her as she and Sombra glided towards other bodies. Sombra would only get occasional bursts of labdanum and peony.

“So you… uh… like dancing?” Sombra managed.

Widowmaker chuckled a little, “I like dancing,” she said, dipping Sombra, the movement making Sombra curse an uncountable amount of times in her head while feeling her face burning as Widowmaker stooped over her before bringing her upright again, “I also like seeing people like Maximilien brought down a peg or two…” she swung Sombra around so that she could see the bar, where Maximilien was bitterly ordering a glass of Glenwales organic oil. Sombra snickered a little as Widowmaker swept her across the dance floor, “And I like that you make a living of doing just that.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Sombra, “Yeah well… You got anyone in mind, you just let me know, you know?” she said as Widowmaker pulled her out of a dip again.

“I will keep that in mind,” said Widowmaker, smiling.

Sombra could hear the distant pop of fireworks from Singapore’s shores as they kept dancing, but she didn’t feel particularly inclined to go watch them. Not just yet.

#spiderbyte

40 notes · View notes

grimelords · 6 years

Photo

My May playlist is finished and it’s got everything from Rachmaninoff to Peaches across 3 and a half hours, I hope you enjoy it.

If The Car Beside You Moves Ahead - James Blake: James Blake has got such a big brain and this song is unbelievable. He has such a way of taking things that could be gimmicky like this vocal stuttering, or looping vocals and making them totally heartrending.

The Boxer - The Chemical Brothers: The central melody of this song is constantly stuck in my head and complete proof that you can make an incredibly catchy hook with just three notes if you need to.

known(1) - Autechre: I think this is maybe Autechre's most straightforward song but it still sounds like a harpsichord concerto getting sucked into a black hole. The way the violin-ish part swoops around throughout the whole thing, disintegrating and reforming before your eyes is hypnotising.

Sundown - Boards Of Canada: Guess who started crying this month listening to an ambient Boards Of Canada song thinking about how the end of soil is within my lifetime and we have destroyed our only home the earth!!

Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys: With their new album coming out I went back and listened to AM for the first time in a while and it's still really astonishing what they pulled off. This and R U Mine? completely blew me away when they came out. Having the audacity to completely change your sound and style and have it work perfectly is amazing, and then disappearing for five years and trying to do it again? Bold.

FML - Kanye West: I was listening to this a lot when Kanye was off his lexapro and fucking his whole life up. And now there's a sequel to this on the new album where Kim's begging him not to fuck the money up, which I think is a very good kind of storytelling.

United P92 - Venetian Snares & Daniel Lanois: I love the idea of ambient Venetian Snares and this is the song on the album where their two ideas meet in the middle the best I think. Also the way this builds and builds into total chaos I always forget that it's coming and get surprised when it says 'the machine can cum', what a funny song.

Turnstile Blues - Autolux: I saw Autolux's drummer in Jack White's band when he played on SNL a couple of weeks ago and suddenly remembered how perfect this song is. A true testament to the power of a simple groove that sounds like it was recorded in a concrete garage.

Young For Eternity - The Subways: Yet another great song about being a vampire and all the benefits that vampirism can bring to your life! Thank god for Dracula! He sucked the shit out of me, now I can leave my work for nights and leave my days for sleeping! Young for eternity!

Oh Yeah - The Subways: I bought a 7" of this song a couple of weeks ago in honour of the time it inexplicably caused me a mental breakdown and made me sprint out of my house to drive around town crying and listening to it on repeat for some hours about 5 years ago. Not sure what that was about!

The Blues - Defeater: As far as songs that go for less than a minute go, I really can't fault this one. Pure power, it does absolutely everything it sets out to do and still manages to get two choruses in under the wire.

Bombay - El Guincho: I saw Holy Mountain this month in a double feature with El Topo, and although El Topo kind of sucked I loved The Holy Mountain a lot. There's a part where there's been a battle and a whole lot of protesters are dying on the ground bleeding, except you can see that the blood and guts are obviously special effects, you can see the hose that she's using to pretend to cry and the guts are green balloons and things like that. Hold on I found it on youtube anyway I know I've seen it before and I thought it was in the video to this song or another one of CANADA's videos but I watched them all and can't find it! If anyone can tell me the music video I'm thinking of, thankyou. This song is also, of course, good.

Swim Good - Frank Ocean: Honestly has there ever been a better song about wearing a cool suit and driving your car into the ocean?? Never. This is perhaps the best sing along song ever because you've got to do your smoothest voice ever until he does his little emo yells of 'I'm goin out!' near the end.

Batphone - Arctic Monkeys: I think this is my favourite song off the new Arctive Monkeys, it's the most '3am slamming away at a club piano' type vibe of them all, but most of all I love the little spiralling into space guitar noise that keeps happening whenever he finishes a line.

An Open Letter To NYC - Beastie Boys: I'm almost always thinking about the time Beastie Boys made a very serious song about how good New York is after 9/11 and they said 'dear New York I know a lot has changed, we're two towers down but we're still in the game'.

Black Car - Beach House: I can't get enough of the new Beach House album, and this song in particular. It's some of my favourite lyrics of theirs ever, a good song for when you're trapped in a dark labyrinth of your own creation.

Midnight Radio 1 - Bohren & Der Club Of Gore: Got quite heavily into Bohren & Der Club Of Gore again this month. This is from the album before they got rid of their guitarist and replaced him with a saxophonist, which pretty dramatically changed their sound from 'extremely brooding night music' to 'film noir soundtrack', which is still very good but really not the same. Anyway this song goes for 20 minutes and it feels illegal to listen to it any time before 2am.

House In LA - Jungle: I am so excited that Jungle are finally back and with such an amazing song too. I love how spacious this is, it feels very different to their first - a lot more grown up and I really can't wait for the album.

Lemonworld - The National: Someone had a tweet a while ago that was like 'the guy from the national sounds like he's been going through a divorce for ten years now' which is very true, but this song feels like it's from happier times when he went to see his sister in law and had an morosely horny time. This song feels like the entire experience of reading a literary novel condensed into 4 minutes: a depressed older man in New York having a sort of backwards, confusing sexual thought. This is a song I regularly listen to on repeat and sing along to, it's a very specific feeling and I think "it'll take a better war to kill a college man like me" is one of the best lines he's ever written.

Rigamortis - Zomby: I put off listening to the new Zomby album for so long because his last one was just so boring but he's completely redeemed himself on this, it's really something. It feels like one long piece, which is amazing when any sort of thematic coherence is a rarity for Zomby albums. There's a lot of recurring sounds and motifs, and almost zero drums in the traditional sense. It feels like a really mature reflection on grime that he's been building up to for years.

Indoors - Burial: Whereas this song sounds like you're waiting outside a club in hell.

Segeln Ohne Wind - Bohren & Der Club Of Gore: Another Bohren song but from much, much later. I love the way the brass sounds in this when it finally comes in, it's so rich and overpowering.

Isle Of The Dead - Segei Rachmaninoff: Wikipedia says "The piece was inspired by a black and white reproduction of Arnold Böcklin's painting, Isle of the Dead, which Rachmaninoff saw in Paris in 1907. Rachmaninoff was disappointed by the original painting when he later saw it, saying, "If I had seen first the original, I, probably, would have not written my Isle of the Dead. I like it in black and white." and it also says "Prints were very popular in central Europe in the early 20th century—Vladimir Nabokov observed in his novel Despair that they could be "found in every Berlin home". Folks what is going on with this spooky painting.

Been Caught Stealing - Jane's Addiction: For a long time this was the emergency dead air song on Triple J, which is an inspired choice in my opinion because there'd be ten seconds of eerie silence because something's gone wrong at the station and then suddenly two huge loud chords! and dogs barking! A BEEN CAUGHT STEEL IN! ONCE!

Sledgehammer - Peter Gabriel: I was sitting on the toilet when I saw a news article that said Peter Gabriel has finally made his music available on Spotify and I said 'yessssssss' loudly myself and then played Sledgehammer. Honorable mention to the best ever sample of this song in Contemporary Man by Action Bronson, which is unfortunately still unavailable on Spotify.

Reaching The Gulf - Dylan Carlson: I saw a review of this album saying Dylan Carlson is the only choice for soundtrack if they ver make a movie of Blood Meridian and they're completely right. I'm also so glad that he collaborated with Emma Ruth Rundle on this, it feels like the closest I'll get to bonus tracks to her Electric Guitar One album.

T-1000 - Swarms: I have no idea where or why I first heard this album but it's been in my rotation for a long time. It's in the general canon of post-Burial dubstep before dubstep got americanized and it's just very nice. When the vocals finally come in on this it's a very emotional moment for me.

Casino Trem - Tyondai Braxton: It's really surprising listening to Tyondai Braxton's work after Battles because he has such a distinct melodic style it's shocking to realise how much he brought to that first album. After listening to a lot of his solo stuff it becomes so recognisable it almost feels like you can go back through Mirroroed and pick out every single guitar line of his making. Anyway this song is great. Starts out sounding like what it feels like to be trapped in a pokie and ends up like you're trapped in a databent Banjo Kazooie cartridge.

Kick It - Peaches & Iggy Pop: The first time I ever heard this song, and the first time I ever heard of Peaches or Iggy Pop was on the soundtrack to Midnight Club 3 so I didn't really know what the fuck was going on. I still don't really. I love that this is supposed to be like a dangerous sexy song but the whole time Iggy Pop is just rebuffing her advances and bullying her. Then she's like 'go to berlin' and then the song ends. Still not sure what this one's about still!

If You Know You Know - Pusha T: GOD this song is good, I've been listening to it on repeat. What I love about Pusha T is where a lot of other rappers talk sort of frivolously about drug dealing and everything, he often feels like he's putting his hand on your shoulder and looking you straight in the eyes saying 'I am not fucking around. If you need drugs of any calibre or kind I can get them for you in massive quantities.' The impish way he's saying 'if you know you know', absolutely kills me, like he's a cartoon man winking at me while hiding drugs inside a tennis ball.

Hacker - Death Grips: I think I put this on my playlist last month but I'm still on it so. My new favourite part of this song is when he says "The table's flipped now we got all the coconuts bitch / Burmese babies under each arm / Screaming beautiful songs".

Cavity - Hundred Waters: Hundred Waters feel like a really underrated band to me, I've been listening to their last two album a lot this month and they're just stunning. The long build up towards the end before the two note melody comes back and kills me? What a moment.

Music For The Long Emergency - Polica: I didn't love this album when it came out but I've been listening to it more and more and it's really growing on me. I think I put this song on a playlist a month or two ago so I won't write more but let me say this: Polica rules.

On The Grid - Lime: tfw you turn the knob and you do a good job and you wind up on the grid :/

Elephants - Them Crooked Vultures: I feel like Them Crooked Vultures gets forgotten when people talk about Queens Of The Stone Age albums. People bring up Desert Sessions and Kyuss but somehow forget that this giant album happened. Anyway this is far and away the best song on it because it just keeps on giving and giving. It's just a huge jam about riding an elephant and having cool hair(?).

Particle - Hundred Waters: This song feels like it could be the EDM hit of the summer if it was structured slightly differently, but instead it's the biggest brain pop song I've heard in a long time. I love how much power the bass has in this, it really feels impactful when it comes and goes. The vocal performance is obviously incredible as always but I really love the distorted vocal line that sort of tears itself apart now and then, against how clean everything else in this song sounds it really makes it.

Me Or Us - Young Thug: Thinking hard about when Young Thug sampled First Day Of My Life by Bright Eyes and made it into a really really good song.

Because I Love You - Montaigne: God this song is good. All the time the lyric 'I ate a salad today, I ate one yesterday too' pops into my head and makes me laugh. She tweeted about this song a couple of days ago and it really made me laugh: "My ex-boyfriend & I once watched BBC Sherlock & during the ep he paused & basically soliloquised about how he’s a tortured genius just like Sherlock & I’m his Watson in as condescending a way as you’re probably imagining then poured a shot of whiskey & now you know the story"

listen here

#playlists

87 notes · View notes