#•among the vultures||zephyr

[succu-bitchh]

[toloveawarlord]

Spooktober Day 11 “I just want to go home”

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

A little set up for this short. I recently got into Star Crossed Myth and of course, to no one’s surprise, I made a ton of ocs for the game, including children. This fic will focus on Artemis, Leon’s Daughter, and Zephyr, Zyglavis’s son.

The ridiculous parties thrown by the gods and goddess for entertainment were nothing more than a way to waste their time. To dress up with masks to hide their status, and then mingle among each time, even incorporating human traditions that struck the King’s fancy.

That was why the masquerade ball had been turned into the Heaven’s rendition of a Halloween party. Extravagant decorations in neon orange and deep black. Attire matching the dark setting.

Artemis leaned back against the column, picking of the mask settled across her face. Like her father, these events turned into a group of lower status gods vying for her attention, like vultures. Escaping the ball had taken a lot out of her. A pretty smile, lying about how interested she was in their conversation.

The wind fluttered the hem of her dress around her thighs as her gaze rose up to the stars above. Another heavy sigh fell from her lips.

“If you sigh one more time, I think I’m going to have to take you away from here.”

That voice. She recognized it immediately. The son of her father’s biggest enemy. Zephyr joined her in the corner of the roof, away from any prying eyes, his own mask removed.

“I just want to go home,” Artemis answered, tired of pretending. Unlike Leon, she couldn’t act however she wished. It would be rude of her to brush of the other gods and goddesses, and that would in turn reflect badly on her father. The last thing she needed was a lecture.

Zephyr laughed as though what she had said was funny. He knew her displeasure for these events. “I do believe I saw Leon leave the venue, if that makes it better.”

Her head turned to look at him, golden eyes wide with shock. She only had to stay as long as he did. That had been the agreement set between father and daughter. “He did?”

He’d caught her completely off guard. Gloved hands cupping her cheeks and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. His own feelings for her not a secret between them. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Artemis smacked her hand against his chest, putting a space between them. “I’ve told you not to kiss me in public, or without my permission. I set the rules for this... whatever this is.” Her words did not match the blush creeping across her cheeks.

The silence between them cut with someone clearing their throat. Vega couldn’t figure out where she needed to be looking. Her eyes darting around the rooftop. “Artemis, Lord Leon sent me to retrieve you. I did not mean to interrupt-”

“Not interrupting, nothing is going on.” Artemis herself could not bring herself to look back at the boy grinning at her. Half of her wanted to smack him again, the other, the half that she buried deep down, wanted to stay just a moment longer.

Her heels clicked against the floor, not allowing herself to turn around. Why did that make her angry? Her heart pounded in her chest, breaths shorter than normal. She pressed her fingers against her lips, the sensation of the kiss still dizzying.

No matter the feelings bubbling up inside, there was no way that they would ever get the permission needed.

They had to settle for stolen moments at these ridiculous parties.

[chpinthestacks]

In the Stacks with Lara Mimosa Montes: Wild Style

A few years ago, I attended a screening of Charlie Ahearn’s hip-hop film Wild Style (1983) as part of the Walker Art Center’s Downtown New York: 1970s and 1980s Art and Film series. The film, “a hybrid of a narrative musical and documentary,” follows Zoro, played by graffiti legend Lee Quinones, as he weaves his way through the various hip hop, break dancing, and Bronx DJ scenes in early 1980s New York.

Wild Style captures some of the funky tensions of the time period. For instance, if you were a “successful” graffiti artist in the 1980s, you were, like your peers, probably working your ass off to get your name out there, but not necessarily your face because anonymity back then was definitely an asset. However, if you worked hard and were good at what you did, then you were also probably a hot commodity, sought after by the vultures of the art world, journalists, toys fucking with your shit, the cops, and the MTA. My favorite scene in the film is when Zoro and his friends arrive at a party in Manhattan populated by rich art patrons and the like; one character, Neil, says he runs a museum called “the Whitley” while Blondie’s Rapture is playing in the background; another guy in a suit misunderstands rap music as “rat” and asks Zoro if he works in the dark, how can he see what he’s painting? While this scene is more fiction than documentary, I love the way it posits everyone as a potential insider or outsider, depending on who wants what from whom in any given exchange.

Wild Style, directed by John Ahearn, 1983. Japanese chirashi movie mini poster, 2015. Wild Style mural by ZEPHYR, Revolt, and Sharp.

Following the Q and A with Ahearn that night, I got the impression that there were still a lot of positive feelings and happy memories surrounding the project. The affective glow that emanated from the collective viewing and discussion of the film, coupled with a revived general interest in that particular cultural moment (ie. the short-lived Netflix original flop of a show The Get Down), stayed with me. I mean, to what extent is wildstyle —the term given to describe a particularly complex and difficult to decipher style of graffiti writing—part of my inheritance, my culture, its art history? Given graffiti’s ephemeral nature, I felt intrigued by the possibility of researching this form in its early years from the 1970s-80s. What I came to know and appreciate was, yes, the many works given to us by a generation of gifted writers, but also the work done by artists like Charlie Ahearn, Martha Cooper, Henry Chalfant, Martin Wong, among others. Without them, I’m not sure how we would remember those early days of the graffiti movement. So, for those wishing to go a little deeper down the rabbit hole, below is a brief survey of some of the landmark texts that document this vibrant period in Bronx history; it is by no means comprehensive—these just happen to be some of my current personal favorites . . . 

Subway Art by Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant, featuring Dondi, first published in 1984.

“The bible of the street-art movement,” Subway Art was the first published book of its kind to document graffitti. Featuring full-color photographs by Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant, the book contains many masterpieces by artists such as Blade, Lee, Seen, and more. A beautiful print collaboration between the two foremost photographers of the movement, you can really appreciate Cooper’s and Chalfant’s distinct approaches to shooting the trains. Also, if you’re as excited as I am for Chalfant’s upcoming exhibition at the Bronx Museum, Henry Chalfant: Art vs. Transit, 1977-1987 which opens later this year, now is as good a time as any to revisit this seminal work.

Style Wars, graffiti by NOC 167,1981. Photo by Martha Cooper. 

Style Wars, directed by Tony Silver and co-produced by Silver and photographer Henry Chalfant, released in 1983, is a classic—the documentary features many a baby-faced graffiti artist such as Dondi, Skeme, Kase 2, interviews with MTA officials, Mayor Ed Koch, various masterpieces, and more. If you want to know what these young writers were up against in terms of public opinion and the MTA, definitely start here. Plus . . . Skeme’s mom: God bless her, wow.

City as Canvas: New York City Graffiti from the Martin Wong Collection, edited by Sean Corcoran and Carlo McCormick, New York: Skira Rizzoli, 2013.

I had no idea that the artist Martin Wong was a known collector of graffiti art until I had come across this book, published in tandem with the Museum of the City of New York’s exhibition City as Canvas, and yes, I am very sorry I had not seen this show back in 2014 before I left New York. For those skeptical of graffiti’s transition from subway to canvas, this book really made me rethink my assumption that graffiti is graffiti because it lives on in the streets and on the trains but never in a gallery. In addition to color images of works on canvas, archival exhibition shots, and some recollections contextualizing Wong’s relationship to the graffiti community by artists Lee, Daze, and Charlie Ahearn, also featured are images of drawings from various artists’ blackbooks: gold.

Tag Town: The Evolution of New York Graffiti Writing by Martha Cooper, Poland: Dokument Press, 2007.

Before there was wildstyle, there was tagging. Some cool shots of tags by Taki 168, Julio 204, Barbara 62, and even Basquiat, among others. Another great monograph by Martha Cooper, who in an interview said, “I shot tags because I wanted a record of them. . . mostly I just wanted to study what they looked like and to allow others to study them in the future. I was using my camera as a very efficient tool to make a record of something that would otherwise be lost.”

Classic Hits: New York’s Pioneering Subway Graffiti Writers by Alan Fleisher & Paul Iovino, Poland: Dokument Press, 2012.

Classic Hits features photographs by Alan Fleisher, Robert Browning, and Jack Stewart. Filled with an assortment of early masterpieces by writers such as Stay High 149, Blade, Super Kool 223, and others, alongside artists’ recollections. I like this book because it showcases an earlier generation of graffiti writers from the 1970s before things really got wild. Similar to Cooper’s Tag Town, I was able to gather from this one a more expanded appreciation for the evolution of the form.

Dondi White Style Master General: The Life of Graffiti Artist Dondi White, by Andrew “ZEPHYR” Witten and Michael White, New York: HarperCollins, 2001.

OK, so graffiti legend Dondi wasn’t born in the Bronx—he was definitely a Brooklyn writer. Nevertheless, his influence on the larger writing community was so profound, his relevance cannot be understated—it went to the Bronx and beyond. Includes black-and-white and color photographs, early sketches, never before seen collage works as well as works on canvas, and reminiscences by the artist’s friends. Unlike some of the other texts on this list, this one is unique insofar as it’s a book assembled by another well-known graffiti artist, ZEPHYR, alongside Dondi’s brother, Michael, so the insights and anecdotes presented here, especially those from Dondi’s closest friends, really provide a window onto the world of the artist. RIP Dondi, you gave us so much.

[succu-bitchh]

“That’s true ..” although this place held no bad memories what it represented did.

“Still It be worth to come see you maybe we can have lunch sometime ..”

Ah right the next order of business a new name— a new her , she supposed having a similar sounding name to that of the royals would cause some issues . She wasn’t a royal after all or anyone special really.

But what to call herself — suddenly unbidden as if to answer her question a memory suddenly resurfaced in her head — not of her muddled past but a fond one — one of Adam. He had been trying to talk to her about something but she couldn’t hear it right until •” Hey listen up Bird Brain I need you to pay attention to me, come on you have to have a brain as good as your rack you’re part of my girls•” —

The word echoed in her head — Bird .. bird Byrd… it was fitting a memory of Adam giving her a name, a blessing even if she didn’t believe in god, she believed in Adam and this seems like his way of giving his ok for this .

“Thank you Adam..” she whispered to herself. She knew what to call her self for this fresh start .

“My new name will be Zephyr Byrd- B y r d “ she told Keenie confidently .

Zephyr shook her head to clear it— all that was in the past , she had something better and brighter to look forward to now. A new home a better life , something that was all her own.

She glanced down at the phamplet and the map to her new apartment , perfect should be easy to move all her stuff there no problem .

She couldn’t help but smile when Keenie mentioned the peaches “sounds like they’re your personal favorite ~ I’ll make sure to grab some “ she chuckled .

A nice famers market would also be a great place for her to watch her new neighbors . To new life in a wrath ring.

“Hmm if I wanted to I can still come visit the embassy right ? Visit you?” She liked Keenie even if she did look a little tasty ~

[succu-bitchh]

“I DONT FUCKING EAT CRAYONS IT HAPPENED ONCE ONCE!!!!”

[succu-bitchh]

(cute headcanon meme) Phel has been trying to find ways to better allow Zephyr to enjoy his piano playing on her terms given her hearing. One of them he's trying is an app that lines the music up with a color display and some headphones to adjust tone and pitch.

Yes, he's finally learning how to use a phone for her.

She loves the light displays it really helps her feel the music besides the vibrations of the piano , she can hear certain keys and the ones she can’t the lights help her .

// THIS IS HELLA CANON NOW CAUSE DHFIDODID ITS SO SWEET AND CUTE

[succu-bitchh]

The fear she felt as he showed his true form shook her to her core … this was a demon a monster .. what she used to try and protect heaven from … and her payment.. was being abandoned by heaven and left for him.

She flinched as the contract was completed and the chair and collar connected around her neck glowing green before disappearing as well.

She was clipped bird .. caged and owned — was it any different then her life up there — she belonged to Adam, no one knew about the exorcists or what they did .

No one would be coming for her — she was nothing .

The depressing thought weighed heavily on her more so then the building itself .

She grunted as pieces of rubble were lifted and she held back small cry of pain as one of her smaller wings flapped feebly the muscle and feathers hanging limply — it would heal in time — but she wouldn’t be using it anytime soon.

She was bruised and scuffed up badly her weapon dented from the bricks .

With a bit of a struggle she got up slowly on her knees and then to her feet trying to keep her balance .

“I-I’ve had worse .. I’m still useful ..” as long as she was useful she was sure she could keep herself alive .

A Dangerous Thing - @succu-bitchh

Prequel:

Every Extermination had the same ending. The roads paved with blood and entrails, bodies strewn haphazardly around the Pride Ring, those that didn't head the Clocktower's bell paid the price with their afterlives by the hands of the Exorcist army from above. A cruel fate for an already damned soul.

For the Radio Demon, and any self-respecting Overlord, the exterminations were golden opportunities. Using the doomed chaos as an excuse to get rid of the lingering pests, to seize control of something he'd always wanted, or making deals with those too weak minded or terrified to know any better.

Having rid himself of one particular folly, Alastor hummed a tune, his coat splattered in sinner blood, as he all but pranced through the now unnervingly quiet streets. It would be some time before the cleaning crew would half ass their task of trying to rid of the carnage, but for now, Alastor revelled in the silence. He was feeling pretty swell.

As he continued his walk, however, his ears caught a sound he wasn't quite expecting. A mewling almost. Crying? He hesitated, but curiosity got the better of him. He ducked behind an alleyway, following the cries, his Shadow darting around him trying to hone in.

Debris from the Exorcist's attack was expected, the clean up crew not even bothering a majority of the time, but it seemed this particular building caved in on itself. More cries, as Alastor slipped into the already shaky foundation.

Further in, he saw the originator of the sounds. The collapse had trapped the poor Exorcist, crushing her, pinning her to the ground, surrounded by her own golden blood. Amused, Alastor strode up to her, unafraid, excited, he had never tasted angelic blood before.

He stood before her, tapping his microphone cane to the ground, wrapping his claws around the head. Alastor grinned down at her, his red eyes illuminating in the dim lighting. It was an intimidating sight, his coat already covered in blood, excess lightly splattered across his face.

"My, my, how unexpected. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

[succu-bitchh]

"♡ ?" (Phel for Zeph)

eee <3

💜-Attraction: She is attracted to him but it’s not his body though he is handsome in her eyes , no it’s his personality and his curious nature and the air of mystery around him she’s attracted to how alike they are and how he will argue with her but never at her if that makes sense.

❤️-Love: pure and simple, she loves him and she’s in love , this is an emotion she was 100% convince she would never feel again after Adam passed , she doesn’t even feel it the same towards her family anymore ..everything had changed after that battle all the bad handling after it. But when she bumped into Phel and they got into then first little spat and their many misadventures she started to feel that warmth that lightness she never expected to feel again and with a goetia of all beings but seeing as she was in love with Adam— it makes sense . However this new love with Phel is something different Vultutes mate for life and this is the first love that’s actualy loved her back. She would give her life for Phel .

🧡- Joy/Happiness: Phel brings her a joy she hasn’t felt since her first mission with her flock , a happiness she can’t remember , she might have felt this at one point way back when she was young but those thoughts are muddled and murky and in any case the joy she gets from Phel is far stronger then anything she’s ever felt . She wants to protect that happiness with everything she has .

💛- Fear : not of him but of loosing him, she lost someone she loved so much once before she can’t go through it again , she won’t she refuses to lose someone so wonderful again . She would face anyone to protect Phel, heaven , God , Saint Michael , Azrael , Lucifer and Satan himself , she saw what loosing Adam did to her sister to the rest of her flock and to her , and she refuses to feel that pain again. She won’t lose him.

[succu-bitchh]

Hella excited to finally get this horrible disgusting birb Finally “falling “ /leaving heaven and put her where she had always belong <3

[succu-bitchh]

Need to cook more on my Fallen verse for Zeph although that’s mainly just becoming her main verse .. she is done with this family lmao -

And then I really do want to flesh out my ArcAngel of death verse for her really bad . Let my girl become unhinged and so powerful .

Death is outside of both heaven and hell after all.

[succu-bitchh]

Excited wing smacks on accident—- “LIKE THIS?! “ she’ll get him some red dust to roll in too.

Touch his face scar! Touch his face scar! TOUCH HIS FACE SCAR!!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[succu-bitchh]

Gonna draw zephyr for her Radio Angel verse with @alteregozowie

She’s gonna be adorable chained to that radio demon!

[succu-bitchh]

Pick her up, swings her around and dunks her in a vat of body glitter. @mourningstarred

Que happy sounds as he picks her up , and squealing ! Before it’s muffled by the vat of body glitter .

Muffled— “I’m okay!!!” Can be heard , he can toss her as much as he wants .

“Do I look better now sir?”

[succu-bitchh]

@sanctumpyre

Uppies OwO

[succu-bitchh]

BBY vulture ….

[succu-bitchh]

Yahbel is best mom for Zeph, she’s fierce, independent , loving , 100% always willing to throw down but will be smart and use words first . Very outspoken and of course used to be a legate ! <3

Warrior mom!

Also fire ! OwO

@sanctumpyre