#dance macabe

[bluebeetle]

can i have the dragon back

[hallowkinght]

Me playing Baulder's Gate and hearing Astarion say Time for the Dance Macabe

Me: yeah I will dance on your dick later.

[quirkwizard]

Since Halloween is around the corner, what Quirks of yours do you think would fit with the holiday?

For the sake of this, I'm avoiding any Quirks that make the user a monster or are designed to scare people. Those just feel like cheating.

Reel Deal: Watching holiday specials and horror movies is one of the key factors of Halloween. So now you can prefectly project those movies for everyone to see with amazing definition and sound. Plus, it could but fun to use it to suddenly scare people with imagery from a photo in your pocket.

Shadow Puppet: Without going into Quirks that induce fear, this is one of the best ways to go about it. You could make people jump at all kinds of weird shadows. What's better is that they would be perfect visuals for telling scary stories, adding unique viusals to whatever tale you tell.

Pocket: Great for trick or treating. You could have a nice hole going back to your house to store all your treats and still have room for more. And if any house daring to hand out fruit for Halloween treats, you could reach into your bag to pull off whatever nasty trick you want, as is your holiday duty.

Tailor Made: Have you ever been indecisive on your outfit? Do you find that you're wearing the same costume as someone else? Is buying expensive costumes draining your wallet? Worry no more, because now you can swap your outfits around as you please. Dazzle and amaze with your sudden transformations.

Baked Goods: Since the holiday is so based around sweets, making your own on demand can really help you set up for a party or for trick or treaters. What's better is that they give so much energy to the people as well, making sure that they are ready to enjoy the holiday as much as possible.

Director: This would make for such a good haunted house. Imagine you having total control of all the furniture and decorations to move and program however you want. You could have your lawn decals dancing or have a scarecrow that slaps at the hands of anyone that tries to take too much candy.

Skeletal: I had to include this one. They just fit too well in with the holiday and would be so much fun to play around with. Use them as servants for your Halloween party, send them out to scare people, or just hang them out in your yard in a macabe display to ward off any would be trickers.

[readitnreap]

Hey Ghesties, question...

How are we reconciling Chapter 2 with the Mary On A Cross, Kiss The Go-Goat and Dance Macabe videos?

From just the videos it seems like Sister chose Nihil and he knocked her up pretty early in Ghost's (canonical) run.

From Chapter 2 it's inferred that Nihil belongs to a long generation of Papas. A progeny that is long and welcome.

So is Nihil an outsider or no?

Did Sister have anything to do with his ascension or was it always his blood right?

Sex and babies and (especially for the Nihil line) seem important... so why is Copia a "dark secret" so to speak? I mean, Sister is high ranking in the church even way back... I'm not sure why a child out of her & Nihil would be so... taboo?

What are some thoughts? Hit me!

[theinheriteddutchess]

I thought fairy...

Ooh or dark macaber dance

Are you part of that world or dragged in?

What if it is magical and you can take one piece of the skirt off and do some magic with it, until you run out of layers!!

So; You are there to trick death to bring your loved one back. There's a dance, you gave up everything for this magical dress that *mumble mumble* made for you to make you succeed, if you're smart. Can you trick death? Can you save your love

...if this is not what you meant I'm sorry!

The Dress

Who would you wear it for?

Where would you wear it?

What would your intended seducee say to you?

What's under the hood?

Does it have magical powers?

[dinodouchebaggery]

// AU where everything is the same, but instead of bikers with a seemingly random millionaire, Doma is just the in universe version of the band Ghost, and half the arc is just Dartz singing 'Square Hammer', 'Circe', 'Dance Macabe', and 'Darkness at the Heart of my Love' to Atem

[darling-i-read-it]

Wedding Costumes

Charles Lee Ray x reader x Tiffany Valentine 

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: talks of murder, cuss words, insintuations to sex, profane suggestive religious costume mentions 

Author’s Note: Imma do one with just Tiff eventually but I love these two together and I wasn’t about to pass up this little idea. 

Summary: Tiffany comes home with a lot of decorations and costumes

Genre: fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

“Halloween is a great chance to put yourself out there!” Tiffany yelled as she walked into the house. You glanced over at Chucky who let out an annoyed sigh at her presence. You were both sitting on the couch watching a movie. Well the movie was on in the background, you were doing your nails while he flipped through a magazine with a bunch of girls in it. 

“Why is that Tiff?” you asked, sitting up and looking behind the couch. She walked into the room holding bags upon bags of things. Chucky looked back at her and gave her a look.

“Where the fuck did you get all that?” 

“The store,” she said happily, putting the bags on the couch.

“No shit,” he muttered. You blew on your nails and Tiffany noticed that they were freshly painted. She could almost smell it from the second that she walked in, like it was her super power. She leaned forward and blew on your nails a bit. 

“No need to mess those up, I’ll show you,” she said. She started to open up the bags and take things out. There were decorations there that went pretty nicely with the house's regular macab meets prep decor. You had to give Chucky a whole room to himself so that he could let Tiffany put pink things all over the place. 

She even pulled out a few costumes that she had bought.

“Where did you get the money for this Tiff?” Chucky questioned, narrowing his eyes at her. She shrugged a bit, a small hidden smile on her face. 

“The cashier,” she said. 

“You’re going to need to specify if you took him to the back room and fucked him or if you took him in the back room and-” Chucky started but Tiffany cut him off. 

“I killed him, don’t worry,” she said innocently. “That’s why I have so much! There’s more in the car, can you help me?” Chucky shook his head.

“Y/N can do it.” 

“She has wet nails, silly.” She grabbed Chucky’s arm and pulled him up. He let out a sigh but followed her out of the door to the car. You picked up the costumes that she had brought and laughed. Sexy versions of everything she could find. She even found a priest costume she could probably get Chucky in if you promised to wear that nun costume which you weren’t quite inclined to do. But other than that there were sexy nurses, sexy cops (which didn’t make sense to you, you had been chased by enough cops to not want to get anywhere near them), a sexy movie characters. 

Tiffany had brought the things she thought you all might look good in, not things to share with the outside world. You tossed them aside and picked up the bits of decorations she had alsos got. You put them carefully on the shelves and such, careful to not mess up your nails as you did so. 

Chucky walked back inside and put the bags on the ground.

“What are the costumes she got?” he asked you. You shrugged.

“Something she expects to dance in I assume.” Chucky smiles cheekily, giving you a look as he started back to the front door.

“She does know us,” he called simply. Tiffany came in and passed Chucky as he left again to get more things.

“Did you like the stuff? I got plenty more.”

“It was all pretty cute Tiff,” you said honestly.

“Did you see the nurse one? I thought you might like that one,” she said, raising her eyebrow suggestively at you. You let out a small smile as Chucky came back in with the last of it.

“Yes I did. Geez Tiff did you steal the whole store?”

“I sure tried.” She started to take things out again as Chucky sat back down on the couch. He looked through the things she had left there and some things grabbed his attention but mostly he just went back to looking at a magazine. His day didn’t quite start until night and there was still an hour or two of daylight left. “Here you should try this one on!” Tiffany yelled, tossing one of the costumes to you. You caught a long white dress barely, just before it fell. 

You put it out in front of you and was surprised to find some sort of wedding dress.

“Are we going as the girl from Corpse Bride?” you questioned. 

“Tiffany!” Chucky yelled back. You looked at her and she had her hands clasped, a smile on her face.

“Let me have a bit of fun Chucky. I wanna see you in a wedding dress! I can spray fake blood on it later if you want,” she suggested. You laughed. The dress was definitely from the cheapest store that she could find but you liked it anyway.

“I’m going to put it on.” 

You went into a bathroom and put it on, admiring yourself in the mirror. You weren’t the marriage type, that was evident by your relationship with Tiffany and Chucky. But your little self might have liked it. You looked pretty.

You walked into the main room and Tiffany put her hand over her mouth before clapping. 

“You look amazing!” she yelled. Chucky turned around and looked you up and down. He tried not to show that he agreed but you could tell that he did.

“You look okay,” he said. Tiffany hit him. 

“You look like a superstar,” she stated simply and walked over to you, taking your hand before twirling you around. Tiffany squealed. “Ugh! I love Halloween.”

[femininechrist]

Oh hey thank you for tagging me lemme do this lol just looking at my playlist I’m sensing a theme

1. Crush - Ethel Cain

2. Dance Macabe - Ghost

3. THERE IS POWER IN THE BLOOD - Revend Kristin Michael Hayter

4. Devil Like Me - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

5. Black Sheep - Brie Larson and The Metric

6. Work Song - Hozier

7. Country Roads, Take Me Home - Lana Del Rey

8. In The Room Where You Sleep - Dead Mans Bones

9. Me and The Devil - Gil Scott-Heron

10. It’s Not A Statement, It’s A (Fucking) Death Wish - My Chemical Romance

I tag: @robotpussy @hunnybeemp3 @blackgirlapathy @schrodingers-queer @lochnesie @ofallingstar ❤️❤️❤️

thank u for the tag @goldslick !!

shuffled my “on repeat” playlist and got hit with the following 10 songs:

smooth operator by sade

shining star by earth, wind & fire

FTCU by nicki minaj

table for two by nat & alex wolff

remember the time by michael jackson

freaking out the neighborhood by mac demarco

tainted love by soft cell

stayin' alive by the bee gees

white glove by dove cameron

pressure to party by julia jacklin

i'll tag @jlf23tumble @femininechrist @peaklesbian-look & @aboutmetamorphosis . happy holidays all!!

[gothamincarnate]

“hands” - your muse tightly holds onto my muse’s hand ( for bruce >:^) )

They've held hands before. The first few strikes are always grabs for wrists or fingers curling around fists. Then it shifts from blocking to attacking. Take a finger and bend, take an arm and twist. Hold him, hold him, don't let him escape.

Then there are the times they fall. Knife in the ribs repaid by a knee to the sternum. One or both of them sinking to the bloodied concrete. Bruce holds on so Joker can't escape. But, a few times, when Bruce is too injured-- a high pain night he tried to push though. A night he shouldn't have gone out with a fever-- theres' always his hazy voice above. The Bat is heaved and shifted into a lap, someone squeezing his fingers tight. He wakes up in the med bay alone, scolded by Alfred. Reckless. If only he knew.

It's the space between his fingers that's untouched. Sweat and blood collects in those webs, nothing more. Bruce Wayne kisses his lover's hands, fingers, palms. He doesn't hold them.

It's another night of fighting, chasing. They're together, alone, both cornering each other. Joker lunges, grabs his wrist. Bruce tenses for an attack, but there is none. Hand walks up his wrist to twist around, palm to palm. Fingertips interlace, then slide down. It feels intimate, more than the-- is it thrice now?-- times they've woken up wound around each other. Those sensations he knew, was at least starting to understand and line up into something coherent.

But Joker always knocked him off balance, didn't he? Their fingers are knotted together, Bruce tries once, halfheartedly to pull free. An arm slides beneath the cape, setting a thumb against the small of his back.

He missed this closeness, this growing lack of hesitation betweenthe two of them. Joker steps forward, leading in the pale moonlight. And Batman steps back, trusting, daring, relinquishing for a few moments. The clown hums a tune to the danse macabe and the bat finds himself joining in.

They dance, they spin slowly. After a minute or so, Joker twists his wrist and presses. Bruce's fingers bend back until the Bat rewards him with a pained hiss. More pressure, just the slightest and Bruce gasps, groans and earns a kiss to his jaw.

The pain's the thing, the reason they need each other. Or, why Bat needs Clown. The kiss leads to more, he keeps finding their fingers laced rather than wrapped around wrists or tangled in hair.

And back in the sanctuary of that bed. The bed where this is no crimes to answer for or cold bodies to tally. Two madmen ever careening into this folie a deux.

Warm fingers slide up his shoulder and again wiggle their way between his own. There's a weight half settled across his chest, right hand interlaced as left hand roams between collarbone and jaw. Again, Batman sighs, allows this vulnerability and tinge of fear. His eyes close and he hums. He squeezes gently in a silent good night and his partner squeezes back.

[aspectofnine]

The silence is broken by a call of a familiar voice. A soft echo in both a literal and metaphorical sense of the word. The Witness looks down at her with a neutral gaze. Her glittering gown twinkling like the faint wisps off of the Taken forms. The specter-like duo dance along the black, watery tapestry at their feet. More appear now, filling the room like an extravagante and macabe ball.

Witness is much taller than his little student and it resizes itself to be the appropriate size before taking her hand for this dance. It does not struggle to lead her to the center of the black floor as it continues to lead her in the lovely waltz. It does not speak to her, seemingly lost in thought and absentmindedly letting its body take over in thr dance.

To Dance // open thread for mutual only for The Witness

The Witness is in a large, mostly empty room. The floor is a mirror white texture. A light fog laps at its feet. The gentle hum of its voice barely echos in the room. It is still. Quiet. Dull.

Small Taken shadows dance together in twitching melancholy. It watches with hands behind its back. Gaze almost hyper focused on them. It tilts its head to the side as they seem to stand tall, twitching but in formation. They move to the rhythm of a silent waltz.

[ceremonyanddevotion]

Papa Nihil is having visions of himself from when he was Papa. And it’s the wig that proves it.

First I want to talk about that dialog while Nihil was typing.

Now I thought it could just be a direct parody from the Shinning, and yeah there is a typewritter scene and him freaking out, but the topic is not the same at all.

And I honestly think it’s also young Nihil speaking at different times of his Papacy, not current Nihil

“This position that I hold, it pays the bills but erodes the soul.”

Young Nihil discussing his feelings being the new Papa

“If I were to leave sister, tell me, would you miss me?”

Nihil and Sister are totally together, but he feels she’s only with him for the church / because he’s Papa.

“I want to go down in ministry history!”

Nihil wants to prove himself to the Church.

No matter what you think of Nihil, he came to the Church as somewhat as an outsider, so he probs did need to prove himself in some way.

Now the Wig, easy.

Nhil had short hair when he joined (or rejoined idk I’ve got my own headcannons on Nihil)

His hair was long in the Chapters, so he clearly grew it out as he was Papa.

So that wig is meant to mean this is taking place a bit after Dance Macabe

I don’t think Nihil is gonna die (just yet) I think he’s gonna do something before that happens (if it does).

I think his statements in his speech allude to his mindset at the moment and what he may do, but I can’t be sure.

Also, that Sister bit before young Nihil appears was totally their (actual) wedding, the mood and attire fits.

[bugsinmyroombitingme]

Honestly this app makes me feel like im being stabbed in my weak point and theres musical cues for each attack and my weakpoint is an eyeball on my back and i die and i run into a wall and the wall cracks and the water in the room we were in all drains and a heart comes out and you dance on my corpse its all quite macabe you teleport out and i never see you or the light of day again god willing.

[youaresimplycomplex]

Lady of the Orc [part 1]

“It is your duty to me and country”

“But why him!?”

“Because I have said so. Now I won't hear another word about it.”

“But Farther -”

“Not another word”

At that he turned and left Ashlynn alone in her room. He slammed the door so hard it blew out the candle. Now only the moon shined any light onto her life. She went to the window to stare at the sky. The pale almost full circle hung in the sky. It's haunting beauty only made her mood worsen. The injustice, the terrible fate now laid out before her.

Ashlynn's father, an ever shrew and clever man, has decided that the latest treaty should be signed with her marriage. Now her opinions being a middle daughter of a minor Duke have never been grand. She had an two brothers, one barley a year her elder but still he would have her father's title. Then her other brother, the youngest, has already been on several military campaigns and proven himself capable. Ashlynn was a young prodigy but no one noticed. She was taught the courtly arts of dance, speech, and reading. She outwitted even her father in chess and backgammon several times. She also read much on war and it's winning. Yet at every turned she has been berated for not being proper and well behaved.

Now her father wanting to make peace and appease the brutish orcs to the west, has offered her hand to their chief's son. He had tried to clear them off a plot of land so that humans could farm there instead. He had thought this more peaceful sec of Orcs easy pickings for his well trained knights. They had found a tougher foe then they had hoped. The campaign against the orc lands had been an embarrassing loss for their little providence. Peace had to be made with them. This naked act of aggression, might lead to raids on human lands in retaliation. Her father had reluctantly paid reparations and written promises of peace down. Then he had offered Ashlynn to an orc. She knew why her dad did this. It was finally his chance to be rid of the insolent child, but still it felt like betrayal to her. She slept poorly that night, dreading what was to come.

Ashlynn had a week of drowning depression. Her fate seem like an inescapable horror. She thought to run away but she could never figure out what to do once outside the walls. She knew of only here, she had barley left this castle. She thought to just refuse but her voice meant nothing to her father and what if the orcs grew reckless waiting on a bride. She seemingly could make no choice that wouldn't end in disaster.

She was lamenting in bed when her brother decided it best to pay his dearest sister a visit.

“So how our resident orc whore doing?” he said with smile she couldn't see but could hear. He had held his position of eldest over her most of her life. She spent years taking his verbal abuse.

“Shut up and leave me be Nathan.” burring deeper into her pillow fort of despair. He sighed falsely and sat onto her bed.

“You should be happy that dad finally found someone as ugly and stupid as you.” something in her snapped at that.

“We'll both be far more beautiful than you and whatever hag you end up.” she salty spat back. She was already being married to an orc not much she had left to lose. Nathan lost his footing a second but came back smugly with, “Oh foolish sister, you haven't even seen an orc.”

“I don't need too to know that one would be a better sight than your hideous face,” she said as she sat up.

Her brother always thought himself smarter than Ashlynn. A leftover from their childhood when he could tell her all the things he was learning. She used to listen with aw and wonder. She had long out paced his studies now but he still insisted on slowly explaining the obvious to her. Often incorrectly but who was she to correct him. She always consoled herself with the thought he'll learn when his ignorance when gets him killed. He had begun to sputter in shock at her assessment of his horrid visage. He could take insults about as gracefully as a headless chicken. And like a headless chicken he ran out of the room with no clear direction.

She sunk back into her bed and found his words sinking in. It was true she had never seen an orc. She heard the stories though and they we're all terrifying. Green beasts twice as tall as normal men. Able to eat knights in full plate. Strong beyond belief and dumb as a rocks. The barbaric tribes knew only blood and war. Ashlynn knew that these tales were mostly stories. Fiction had taken to them like moss but she still feared what truth lay under it.

‘And what of my face,’ she thought, ‘It's not like sutors are lining up at the castle door.’ She pondered this for a time but it just sunk her deeper into her misery. She had never thought herself as ugly but also never as beautiful. She liked herself well enough and that's all that really mattered. She had assumed that sutors thought her brash and unbehaved like her father. Now though she wondered if she was so ugly to others. If her looks keep her from marriage not just her attitude.

“Guess it best then to be married to an orc,” she said sadly to herself, finding sleep again.

A knock at the door woke her.

“Delivery my Lady”

It was one of the maids

“Come in” she said rousing from her night of nightmares of yet to come. She sat on the bed as young maid came in with some sort of package. It was something wrapped in rough leather and tied up with rope.

“Who is it from?” she asked puzzled by the package as it was placed in her hands. The maid suddenly got shy,

“ Well it's from... you know…”

This continued to puzzle Ashlynn.

“No I don't,” she said flatly “please tell me who it's from.”

“Oh it's from… well,” she looked shy and then full of pity, “ It's from your husband to be.” The silence hit the room hard. Ashlynn slowly looked at the package with new frightened eyes. “Thank you. You can go,” she said off handley. Once she heard the door shut she gently pulled at the rope that held the leather together. Inside was necklace, a letter and something covered in feathers the likes of which she had never seen. She examined the necklace first. A worn leather string held a small wood carving of bear. Was she supposed to wear it? She took the letter next, opening it in hopes of explanations.

Dear Lady Ashlynn,

I am Varbuk son of Varungad, and I am the orc to which you have been promised to. I am happy to have our union bring peace to both our lands. I can only hope you share in this joy. I want to apologise to you, I have come to understand that you were not asked about this. My father assures me this is normal among humans but I still feel this a slight to you. It was my hope that we could talk and get to know each other before the banquet. Things have not turned out that way. This letter comes with a couple of gifts. The first is my bear totem, it keeps me safe and gives me luck so I hope the bear protects you as well. The second is a cloak made from the feathers of an owlbear. I hunted the beast and made the cloak from its feathers myself. I know these gifts can not replace a proper proposal but please take them anyways.

Sincerely,

Varbuk the Ever Will

Ashlynn sat for a long time reading and rereading the letter. She was in complete shock. First of all orcs are apparently able to write and when they do they are peace loving sweethearts. It was too much to be believable but there it all was. Then looking over everything again her eyes landed on the cloak of owlbear feathers.

She scrambled out of bed though she did not know why she felt such haste. She threw on her new cloak with a fever. She looked at herself in mirror. The cloak was completely covered in the grey and black feathers. The cloak was secured with a talon or claw and the brim of the hood had the beak of the beast it came from. With the hood up she looked like a terrifying fairy tale witch. It was dark twisted, macabe, and she actually liked it. She was surprised how much she liked looking scary and dark.

The dark sorceress feels reminded her of a time when she had begged and pleaded for a magical education. The art of magic could be taught to those smart enough to learn it. It was common for children of Noble birth to learn wizarding. Like in most things her brother had convinced her father that she wasn't smart enough to get magic. She knew he was only upset because he couldn't wrap his head around the all the spells wizards tried teaching him. Ashlynn picked up a hair brush and began to wave it like a wand. She pretended to be a dark witch casting curses on her brothers.

Then as she wandered back to bed she saw the letter and remembered where this cloak came from. It was off her as fast as she had put it on. She threw it onto the bed hard but immediately regretted it. She picked it back up to see if it was damaged but it seemed fine. This orc who had sent her these gifts seemed sweet and trying hard to help ease her into this new turn of life. Which is more than can be said for everyone else. Her brother called her a whore the other ladies at court had laughed, been disgusted or only knew pity for her. She had heard whispers that many were happy to see her go. She looked back at her cloak and got a wicked idea.

_________________________________________

The banquet hall was an array of splendor. Everyone seemed happy, and jubilant. Bards played away as the party was in full swing. Though one thing was off Ashlynn was absent. Varbuk was worried, the servants had continuously reassured him that she was just getting ready. But it had been hours now where was she? The young orc had never had the chance to meet her and was concerned that she might have fled. Humans rarely tolerated Orcs and to marry one seem to be a short straw in fate's hands for most.

His mind began to swirl with anxieties. Would she hate him, throw up at him on sight. Most humans at this party had been giving him a wide berth. Mostly the ladies of the court. He definitely felt like an outsider. He had agreed to this union because her father had been so insistent. Then a loud creek came from the large double doors. In came a shorter humanoid figure draped in a familiar cloak. Valbuk heart fluttered suddenly at the sight of his future bride wearing his gift. Everyone else was not so at put at ease. Gasps and murmurs floated through the crowd. Valbuk wasted no time though as he made strides across the hall to Ashlenn.

“Lady Ashlynn I am to assume?” he said boldly

“Yes and you are Varbuk?” she said not looking at him. Her voice was deeper than most but still soft. Varbuk got down on one knee and reached for her hand. She did not stop him raising it up and gently kissing it.

“I am my Lady.” He said looking up into her eyes. It was the first time he had saw her face. Her eyes were emeralds wreathed in wavy blonde-red locks. Her face was in a unreadable blank expression. Though prominently around her neck was his first gift. Under it was an vibrant green dress. Varbuk was touched on how she wore his gifts and amazed at how beautiful she looked in them.

_________________________________________

Ashlynn felt the eyes of everyone on her. She had decided that if they were going to be rid of her then she was going to go out looking badass. Before she saw him she could feel Varbuk's stride ponding on floor. She didn't bother to raise her eyes to meet his. She could tell he was tall. His outfit was simple and unfancy. Cloth shirt and trousers with a leather belt free of weapons. When he bent down to kiss her hand she got to see his face. His hair seemed longer than hers, the shining black dreadlocks tied back behind him. A short chin strap beard warped around his face. His two white tusks popped against his summer leaf green skin. They meet eyes and his eyes were a warm amber. She had to admit he was handsome he seemed rugged and worldly. Ashlynn was jealous of that freedom to explore.

More footsteps came hurtling towards the pair, theses were much lighter.

“Ashlynn what are you wearing!?” Ah her father was here. She turned to the thin duke to speak but Varbuk's booming voice beat her to the punch.

“Gifts I sent her doesn't she look magnificent in them.” She saw the struggle play out across the long face of her father. He needed to play nice with the orc but really thought she shouldn't be wearing such ghastly garb. Diplomacy won out in the end as he weakly gave a, “Yes.”

The Duke slunked back to the large dining table and sat at it's head and called for dinner. Varbuk stuck out an elbow, inviting Ashlynn to take hold. She took him up on the offer. As they walk she could still feel the glares of disgust and hate but she didn't care. They always cast her as the villain so she was going to live up to expectations. Varbuk arm was thick and muscled, in fact most of him was. He stood a foot taller than everyone here and towered almost two feet taller than her. There was two other orcs here one older man and a woman. Both were huge in their own right. Valbuk must have noticed her looking and said,

“That's my father and mother.”

“Oh that's nice they came out with you” Ashlynn said trying to make small talk.

“They want to make sure that this peace goes well.”

“Doesn't everyone?”

“Yeah I suppose so,” he chuckled. She could feel his voice pull from deep in his chest.

“But do you?” Valbuk continued.

“Do I what?”

“Want this peace to go well?”

“Of course I do. Our people need peace.”

“Yes but do you want this? Want to marry an orc for the sake of your people?” No obviously not that was her answer, right? Why did that answer seem so far away. Like getting all these orcish gifts on made her forget that answer in her room.

“I, uh …” was a she got out before they were at the table being interrupted.

“Ah the lovely couple please take a seat.” A servant pointing to their chairs at the table. Varbuk pulled out one for her. She sat in it as let Varbuk push her in. He took the seat right next to her, smiling that warm smile of his.

The rest of the court and guests took their places. Valbuk, and Ashlynn sat at the end near her father. Valbuks parents on the other side situated between her brothers. The Duke stood and made a speech about peace and the coming together of stuff but he was using his boring voice so Ashlynn paid little attention. Everyone seemed enraptured by the speech though. She keep glancing at Varbuk, his question still lingering in her mind. Did she still want to run from this orc? He had been nothing but kind and generous with her. The stories she heard wrong on everything except their skin tone. Her mind was storming with these questions when on one her glances she saw something. It was a raised dagger behind Valbuk's back. Something awful dripping off the blade.

“WATCH OUT!” She shouted. Without a thought she grabbed the servants wrist trying to hold back the blade. The man was stronger then her but she had bought Varbuk enough time. His much stronger hands grabbed the servant and lifted him up like he was nothing. He stood up then he tossed the would be assassin like a rag doll across the room. The deadly blade landing near Ashlynn's feet. A similar struggle played out at the other end of the table as Varbuk's parents easily fended off Ashlynn's brothers. During this the Duke had made a break for it. He called out as he ran for the guards. Ashlynn knew this was going to be trouble.

She grabbed Varbuk's hand,

“This way!” She pulled him behind her as she ran. She knew these hall all too well. With a glance back she saw all three orcs on her tail. She was running on autopilot as she dodged though hall after hall. Down one way, left here, right there. Her nerves were tingling then she came to when she was running to. She released Varbuk's hand then set to work on the wall.

“What in the Nine hells just happened!?” Varbuk said gasping for air. Ashlynn had a good idea what happened.

“My father just tried to cut the head off the snake.”

“What!?” said the older man almost shouting.

“It's an old technique where you lure an enemy leader under peace terms then kill him and scatter the remaining army.” She kept scanning the stone bricks of the wall.

“Ashlynn your foot” Varbuk said solemnly

“What about it?”

“It’s bleeding.”

She looked down and saw a dark stain on her foot. Then it hit her, the dagger the servant had must have fallen on to her foot then to the ground. She hadn't even noticed. She looked back at the wall with renewed fear. She found what she was looking for. A brick marked with a bird carving. She pressed it and the wall shook as the secret passage way opened up.

“This leads to a the stables at the edge of the city. We need to move quic-” she was light headed and then stinging in her feet was getting worse. Then she fell but she was caught in Valbuk's arms. He lifted her up and carried her bridal style.

“It's going to be ok we're going to get out of here.” Varbuk voice cooed at the weak Noble in his arms. Then she blacked out.

[keijitrash]

I don't know if anyone noticed but...

The more well known music used by/in @thearcanagame during dining scenes and the Masquerade really suits the story well and you don't even realize it—

The dining room music is called "L'amour est un oiseau rebelle" or "The Habanera" from Carmen (an old French Opera).

It's upbeat and playful, but the lyrics talks about how love is a rebellious bird. I'm not gonna go around spoiling stuff right now but it's pretty relevant to the plot, especially if your choices lean to change (either towards yourself or who you're romancing).

Of course, Habanera might not be too relevant, but the next extremely is.

!! SPOILER ALERT !!

The second well known piece used in the game is during the Masquerade. It's a piece called "Danse Macabre" by Camille Saint-Saëns, which literally means Dance of Death.

I'll tackle the literal meaning of Danse Macabre first before getting to the allegory.

The Masquerade is the near-climax of the story where everything begins to turn chaotic. It literally becomes a party with death looming over it the moment you discover that you must stop the Devil and Lucio from accomplishing their 'evil deeds'.

The allegory on the other hand states: "no matter one's station in life, the Dance Macabre unites all."

Which is another thing that happens in the Masquerade. Everyone is present - parents, sisters, Lucio's cool mom...everyone. The Masquerade united people not only of Vesuvia but from other places. The Masquerade is the Danse Macab.

I have absolutely no idea if the people behind The Arcana's soundtrack meant to do this or just found the two tracks pretty good for the scenes but still—

It's pretty fken amazing.

[highlordrhysie]

Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses (pt1)

Well, this has certainly taken me a hecking long time to complete, but alas it is done! This is a piece done in response to a request from someone who wishes to remain anonymous, but they gave me some beautiful characters to work with and a wonderfully inspiring idea! So, here it is, I hope you guys like it and that it will be worth the horribly long wait! 

( also, let me know if you want to be tagged in pt2, it might be another long wait but it WILL be done! XD ) 

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Darkness is hypnotic, it doesn’t matter who you are or how pure of heart you may seem, no one is immune to its call. There’s just something in the way it wraps itself around sin that calls to the morbidity of the human soul and turns it sweet like the finest wine. That’s why the people came to Cirque de Macabe, to feed their twisted fascinations and revel in its curious darkness. In the circus tent a violins haunting melody fell to a halt as a woman, the troupes ringleader walked out into the center of the ring. The dress she wore was widows black, its sleeves and hem accented in lace to match the wide brimmed hat which formed a dark halo around her head. A bleach white bird skull looked out over its edge; center piece to the candle like sticks of dynamite that circled the hats crown. She made a strange and impressive sight, yet stood in the midst of the extending silence, not a soul could see her through the shadows. It filled her with an odd sense of power, being able to watch them all grow slowly uncomfortable, she felt like an omniscient being pulling on the strings of their fragile human emotions. Too soon the trance was shattered as overhead a spotlight came to life, casting her in a glow that for a brief moment she could almost convince herself was sunlight. Breathing deep she took a drag on the long cigarette holder balancing in her hand, then in a plume of smoke grinned up at the crowd, flashing the wicked points of her teeth. “ Madame’s and Monsieurs! I welcome you to the great Cirque de Macabe! Tonight, the shadows themselves will be brought to life before your very eyes in the tale of a harrowing journey through the underworld!” The ringleaders voice carried effortlessly around the BigTop, filled to the brim with a sly charisma and the syrupy lilt of an accent “ for you see, the universe is more than just this world! There are many and each is like a sheet of the finest silk, layered over one another so that in places they all but touch. These places are known as veils and it is here that our story begins, with the misfortune of a mortal girl, fallen from her world and straight into the mouth of hell ...” Perfectly timed, a giggle of laughter came from the edge of the ring as a smoke bomb rolled to a stop at her feet, hissing black mist all around and with it the Ringleader vanished.                                                               ~

From within the audience a very particular young man watched it all take place. It had been two years since he'd first heard of Cirque de Macabe. It's name had drifted through the muddy streets of Prague and intrigued he'd managed to work his way into the blood red BigTop. After that, he'd walked out a man obsessed, completely enthralled by their stories and the strange, twisted mystery of its performers. That night was the first of their newest tale and a music box melody came to life as the smoke cleared to reveal a young woman, the mortal, rushed out onto stage. The flower ladened tulle of her dress rippled as she looked around in apparent distress, and her golden hair shone like a flame against the dark backdrop. As she fluttered, other creatures began to stir as though drawn by her movements, then in despair she dropped to the floor and buried her head in her hands. That's when they emerged, some crawling out from beneath the stands and others tumbling from the sky on soft black ribbons. Their costumes were skin tight and patterned with the mottled brown of bark , shot through with an iridescent blue which glistened in the light. That same shimmer was dusted over the sharp planes of their faces and worked in among the feathers, leaves and lace which adorned them. As they moved towards the girl, their lean bodies twisting with a predatory gait, he caught flashes of their strange features from within the costume. To any who didn't know better their black, slanted eyes and pointed ears might have been missed, but he’d always wondered at this as there was something too eloquent about their look to be the simple product of makeup. 

At last, the girl looked up  and fell back with a silent scream. Then the dance began and the music turned into something wild with menace as the faery dancers pushed and pulled her between them in snapping, taunting movements. When she tried to break free, they folded themselves into shapes unthinkable and swung from the ribbons in elegant arcs to block their preys path to escape. When at last the song fell to a close, the dancers made a final lunge for the girl, but as they did there was a rush of air and an aerial acrobat swept low over their heads. The dancers hissed in fear and scrambled away, freeing the girl who raced back through the curtain. The crowd applauded, waiting in eager anticipation for the acrobat to return and they didn't have to wait long before a new melody arose and the three performers appeared poised among the rafters. All three siblings had tattoos coiling from their necks to their feet, the colours of which stood stark against their pale skin and moon white hair. From that distance it was impossible to tell what what the tattoos were, but the man had been to the circus enough times to know that on the twin girls you would find a pair of dragons and on their brother a brilliant Phoenix. At first, the act appeared like any other aerial show, graceful and beautiful as they flipped and swung through the air, but then as their movements built, it started to change. like a heat haze, the edges around their bodies started to blur, giving the impression of movement in slow motion. A gasp ricocheted throughout the audience as suddenly it was as if glowing ghostly skins peeled away from each of them so that where once the performers had been, two dragons and a Phoenix now soared in their place. Soft sparks trailed behind them, but where they landed there wasn’t an ounce of heat, they simply fell away; disintegrating against the skin. Awe hung heavy in the air and it was truly an eerie sight to behold as the glowing miracle of the creatures was reflected in the wide depth of the audiences eyes. 

A couple of people would no doubt be scrutinizing the set, looking for an explanation, but that was the beauty of this act. No matter how hard they tried, they would not find one. It did not exist. When their time came to an end, the creatures faded away to reveal the acrobats once more and it was with true dramatic flare that they disappeared back up into the rafters, seemingly swallowed up by the tent itself.

A movement flickered out the edge of the onlookers vision and he glanced down in time to see the Mortal appear back on stage and this time she was not alone. A figure was stood still as death in the center of the ring, head hanging limp so its long, dust grey hair shielded its face. Swathes of white lace dressed the woman’s body, loose and ill- fitting like a wedding gown stolen from a corpse.   The crowd watched as the mortal approached the figure, but just before she could touch her, the strange woman suddenly became animated and swiveled round to face the girl. From there the story showed how the woman offered the girl her aid, telling her of her great power as a Medium and walker of worlds. She promised that she would be able to get a message through the spirit realm to the girls family and so it was that they joined hands for the séance. The Medium began to chant and as she did, the room grew colder, so much so that the crowds breath could be seen misting in the air. Tension built as things began to sway and creak in time with the chilling music which played over head and the whisper of phantom voices joined with the song. Then the Medium smiled and its seemed to stretch unnaturally across her face as her eyes flooded white and her veins turned black beneath her translucent skin. The girl cried out and with struggle managed to rip her hands from the Mediums grasp. She bolted away, but the Medium would not be fooled. With a sickening crack her head rotated on its neck as she spat out the final part of the chant and with it, the girl fell to a boneless heap on the floor. The Medium cackled and rose into the air, hanging like a rag doll suspended on strings. When she spoke again it was with a voice layered with many tones, none of them human but each of them chilling as they crept deep beneath the surface of the skin. It was an act solely designed to instill discomfort, calling forth all the instinctive fear that mankind holds for the paranormal. She would pick on people, and speak of things that no one else should know, taking on the voice of long dead ancestors and angry souls whose stories were ones of bitter and gruesome deaths. At one point she disappeared altogether, the whispered voices rising and then a shriek came from the audience as a lady and her partner looked up  to find her hanging bat-like behind their seats. With all the intensity, it had almost been forgotten that the golden haired girl still lay on the floor, until she began to stir. She saw the Medium hovering above and seemed to harden her self as she got to her feet and marked a circle onto the ground. Then, reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of the Mediums gown, yanking her from the air and into the circle. The sound that came out of the Mediums  mouth was hideous as she  convulsed, then, all at once,  her body relaxed and with a sigh the energy drained from the room. Fragile now, the Medium looked at the mortal girl with a tired curiosity, before shuffling from the ring., The crowd seemed to take a moment to recover but eventually an applause rose and when it did it was roaring. The next act was that of the Siren. Just like the start of the show, it began with a violin, but unlike the first, this song was smooth and rich and eerily hypnotic. The owner of the sound turned out to be a man, more human looking than any of the performers so far, but it was with such reverence that he held the beautiful instrument beneath his chin that his mortality was turned into magic. He did not, however, hold attention for long, for in his wake walked a woman of such overwhelming grace that the heart itself seemed to ache. With the golden headdress she wore radiating out like a sunset over her amethyst  hair, she looked like a true Goddess, blooming color in the darkness that threatened to consume. That was before she even started to sing, because when she did…well, it was enough to shatter the soul. A crescendo of emotions barreled through the audience as she sang, her voice guiding them with a power such that no earthly creature should posses. Tears glittered on people’s faces and even the young man who’d heard her voice many times before felt his cheeks grow damp and his heart swell with such overwhelming emotion that it bordered on pain. Within the story, the mortal girl was also entranced and like a sleepwalker she approached the siren, before falling in awe at her feet. She looked up at her, her demeanor full of worship and in return the Siren laid a gentle hand upon her head, stroking back her hair in a soothing, possessive motion.

Slowly, the song started to come to a close and the sense of loss that accompanied it was enough to cripple a person with longing. A strange hiss punctured the delirium and for a moment it occurred to him that perhaps some strange creature had managed to get loose and was about to set upon the crowd, but then, as if a bomb gone off, it exploded. Sparks flew into the air, like a golden river running into the sky and before they could fall  to the ground, each pin prick of light flared outwards, so bright that you were forced to look away under threat of being blinded. Blinking past the stain on his vision, the man looked back to the arch and found that where only a moment ago there had been nothing, the Ringleader now stood and alongside her, a new, even stranger man. The latter wore a long green coat, embroidered with whorls of sparking gold and a waist coat to match. This, added together with the frilled white neck tie and the aging top hat, made for a daring mish-mash of styles. What really caught the eye however was the pair of obsidian horns poking out from beneath the rim of the hat, their ridges also dusted with gold. On the other side of the ring the Siren pulled the mortal girl closer, her violinist continuing to play as her hold turned tight and she faced down the new arrivals. Neither two, however, made any move to approach her, the man simply smirked and raised a hand, snapping his fingers together in a single, fluid motion. The mortal girl gasped and then right before their eyes she disappeared, replaced by a huge green moth. It fluttered around the Siren who, realizing what had happened, made a grab for it, but the moth dipped out of her grasp. In a blink, the Ringleader moved, dashing across the floor to trap the moth inside a bronze barred cage, before retreating back to the mans side as though she’d never moved at all. Seemingly enraged, the Siren ran towards them, clawed hands outstretched, but as she did, the horned man threw an orb high into the air where it burst with an audible crack. Black smoke erupted across the tent, rolling out in thick waves that devoured everything in their path. As they flooded down, the young man looked into them and swore that suspended in the air a great creature shifted to look right back. Then it was gone, and suddenly not a soul could see in front, behind or to the side of themselves. It should have been terrifying, so close was it to the feeling of being buried alive, but just as the fear was setting in, the darkness became littered with stars. Terror replaced by awe, it was like becoming one with the universe and the stars shifted to your touch, you became a god governing worlds. It faded quickly, the black dissolving into transparency to reveal the ring and its new set once more. Six great windows of glass now circled its edge and so clear were they that it would have been easy to miss them if it weren’t for the slightest of distortions running round their edges. Through them, the performers could be seen: the ring leader, the magician and the mortal all on stage and with them, another new performer who looked to be a small girl of maybe twelve or thirteen. Her ratty green hair was tied in uneven bunches and held in place by a pair of copper flight goggles which she wore round her forehead. There was a strange pallor to her, the sort of sickly colour you find on the dead and dying, and yet, sat under the lights, stroking the hair of the sleeping mortal girl, she looked very much alive. The mortal awoke looking into that strange face and took it with fear, but unlike before it seemed to quickly cool into something closer to unease. In the audience, the young man shook his head, marveling once again at the true power of the show; at its ability to convey the finest emotion with naught but the smallest movement. It was then that the horned man now made himself known as The Magician and introduced the Ringleader and green haired girl as friends and assistants in his arts. Bit by bit, he used his words to smooth the mortal girls fears, telling both her and the audience that he intended to show to her the true wonders of their world. It was under this guise that his act, the final act, began. One by one the glass planes began to shimmer and then, one by one they came to life. Each window showed a different scene: a city of glittering gold, an ancient tree, a ballroom of ethereal winged creatures, a circle of standing stones and a lake, silver as molten moonlight. The sixth one, however was different to all the rest. Dark and earthen it showed a crude statue sculpted from red clay into the shape of a sleeping man. All around it the others shifted, their images seeming to expand and reach past their glass constraints, pulling themselves into reality. In centre stage, the magician took something from his coat and then, winding back his arm, he threw it straight at the panel with the clay man, but instead of shattering as it should have, it absorbed the projectile. Where it hit, a lava like glow flowed through the clays cracks until it reached the carving of its eyes. As it did, there came a sound like creaking wood and then the creatures eyes flew wide. It flexed it’s muddy limbs, becoming more solid and agile with every step until it was with the grace of a true trapeze artists that it clambered up the ladders and into the rafters where a tight rope was strung. “ And now, fair mortal, let me show you the greatest marvel of them all!” The magician exclaimed, sweeping his arm above his head. Just as it had with the glass planes, the air parted like a veil and with it the audience gasped. Hanging suspended in a huge glass bowl, was a mermaid, real and in the flesh. Indeed, she was the most magnificent thing, all sparkling scales and coral crusted skin. Her hair flowed around her in a halo as webbed hands moved through the water, showing off the bio-luminescent glow which leaked from every inch of her. She swam around the tank and every now and then would stop and blow bubbles through a pipe, each bubble morphing into a tiny angler fish which swam until popping itself on the side of the bowl. The top of this was open to the air where above it, the clay man had found his way onto the tight rope and started performing tricks, until somersaulting from the rope he dove straight for the mermaids bowl. Quick as an asp, the mermaid leapt from the water to meet him, her jaw unlatching as  he fell straight into her open mouth. Murmurs rang out as the mermaid dropped back into the water with a splash and burped her largest angler fish so far. Her glow slowly faded and the Magician drew the audiences attention back towards him and the mortal girl who was now looking around in awe, her fear forgotten. She swirled around, taking in the miracles before her, but stumbled and fell heavily into the Magician. For a moment they simply stared at one another, then, with a sly grin she wrapped her arms around his neck and without hesitation pressed her lips to his. Like a sound wave, the change rippled through her, her once golden hair melting away into raven wing black and the few flowers that remained wilting into a gown of blood red silk which clung scandalously to her curves. Her smile was dark as they broke the kiss where she turned away from the Magician to take the green haired girl by the hands and waltz with her to to where a human sized canon awaited. Willingly, the little girl clambered inside, pulling her goggles down as from her perch the Ringleader lit the fuse with the end of her cigarette. While it hissed, the now dark mortal and Magician continued to dance the waltz to its end, where on que, the canon exploded. Like glass, the six ghostly images shattered and the girl shot out like an arrow, a faint mist of blood raining down as she broke through the canvas of the tent and disappeared like a speck into the night sky. The audience flew into applause as the performers all came out to take their final bow and for each one to disappear behind the curtain until only the Ringleader remained, alone in the ring once more. “Au revoir!” Was all she said, before throwing her hat high into the air above her. Then, in a blink she was gone, leaving nothing but the hat to fall with a thump to the floor, and the empty sockets of a bleach white bird skull to watch the audience as it left.