#dance x death

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

And I’m floating in a most peculiar way

And the stars look very different today~💚

[gh0stbeeee]

Thinking about ballet dancer Light.

Preteen Light choosing a sport and taking up ballet because he's always loved the grace, the power, and the emotion in the way the dancers move, because maybe this could be a momentary freedom for him, from the pointless competition that is his life.

Light being asked hundreds of times if he's sure, if he wants this, if this will distract him, if he can work hard enough to catch up to the other kids that have been doing this for years.

Light walking into a ballet class for the first time, one of the few boys, and leaving at the end ashamed at how clumsy he was in comparison.

Light working himself to the bone to catch up, for the first time determined to finish his homework as fast as he could because he found something he wants to really do, staying for hours at the little studio every day and leaving with screaming muscles and blisters on his feet.

Barely able to feel the pain in comparison to this burning passion he felt for the first time.

Quickly catching the attention of the teachers, they tell him if he keeps at it he will have a very promising future ahead of him.

He never tells Soichiro this might be more than just an extracurricular for university.

His first recital goes spectacularly, even though he was only a supporting role, he caught the eye of a recruiter from a prestigious ballet company who told his mother they would keep an eye on him, as his future was bound to be successful (his father was too busy to come.)

The drive home his silent, his face rubbed raw from removing the stage makeup in the bathroom before leaving, when Sachiko says she can talk with his father, if this is what he really wants to do.

Light smiles, saying he'll think about it more before they commit in the future.

The girls start learning on pointe, and Light is intrigued. His instructor says the boys can learn as well, and it would make them better dancers for it.

Light and one other boy agree.

It's an extra layer of work, the stiff shoes feel somehow too much and too little as he stands in a pair for his first fitting, alone as he hadn't told his parents.

But he feels a warm flutter in his chest when he sees himself in the mirror, on his toes like Odette in Swan Lake, his first ballet.

He takes to it even faster than when he'd started. Even when the basic lessons ended, he continued to dance on pointe in his own time. He learns the girls' lead choreography alongside the boys, who were mostly supports for the lead ballerina.

He adds his own twists on it, every movement he makes sharp yet graceful, makes it look effortless yet full of power.

His instructor is amazed, watches as he dances better than the girl who got the lead.

"It's such a shame," she says slightly regretfully, "if you were a girl, I think you would've had a real chance at being made a prima ballerina. That being said, at this rate, if you get picked up by a professional company, I'm sure you'd make premier danseur in no time." She laughs as she says it, a kind joke to highlight his incredible skills and potential, and Light laughs too.

When Light is fifteen, his school is putting on a production of Swan Lake.

And for a brief moment, his heart is over the moon, it has always been a dream of his to dance the ballet. It sinks immediately the next moment, when they call only for girls to audition for Odette and Odile.

He still puts his name in to audition for Prince Siegfried, he learns the choreography, but he can't stop himself from putting his pointe shoes back on and dancing Odettes parts when he is alone. Male point dancers were only used as a joke in classical ballet, he had no hope for the part, but for a while, he dreamed.

He danced Odette, and he danced Odile's Variation, twirled with more grace than a human should have, and he felt like he was flying.

It was after he'd perfected Prince Siegfried's parts to know, and danced Odette's death as his last run for the night, that as his fluttering wings stilled for the last time, he felt trapped again.

The audition was in a day. If he got the part, he was nearly guaranteed a spot in the nationally top company. And he would dance as a man was expected, and he would never dance on pointe on a stage.

He packed away his pointe shoes for the last time.

The next morning, the day before the auditions, he handed them his resignation from the school. He would never forget the despair on their faces when they looked into his eyes and saw that his passion had died. (He'd murdered it in cold blood.)

"Good." His father had said. "A healthy phase, but it was time to get serious about school. You made the right choice."

Light just smiled blankly. His mother pretended not to notice the tear stains on his face when she brought him some apples that night.

(It wasn't until midnight eyes, raven hair, and a chain that he danced again, twirling gleefully to hide the blood stains on his feathers as he showed the detective his old passion.)

[yourlocalcorviddad]

Can I make a petition to change the Danny/Cass ship name to Deaths Dance instead of Dead Silent?

Like, Cass didn't really choose to be silent that way, she did choose to be a dancer and I feel like it fits more with what(little admittedly it feels like) I know of her.

But also. Think of the possibilities.

Danny finding her because of her dancing, like maybe he was traveling with Dani/Ellie and she wanted to see this show, so he goes, and gets enraptured.

And like, he doesn't think anything will ever come of it, just another fan in the crowd. Only she notices? Like he comes back, not just cause he's a fan but Ellie loved it and he'll happily indulge her and all.

Maybe he even starts to dance too? Like to see what it's like and he enjoys it as much as he does flying or space.

Maybe Cass agrees to visit a class of older new dancers and sees him there and all?

[hopelessfandomfreak]

it is rather poetic that agatha was very literally killed with death’s kiss

[zimt-deathnote]

Oh wow now they're slow dancing to oldies playing in another room on a rooftop at the mafia wedding someone help, can they never stop dancing please

now I kinda want a jazz oldies playlist with animated snippets of those two looping in the background

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

[rghoost]

SO COOL THAT THEY HAD A HAPPY ENDING, RIGHT GUUYS??????? 🤡

Happily married, kids, chickens and ALL 🤡

[arcade-chaos]

Eldritch Scritches

Everyone say ty daycare friend pickup for this drabble

First person POV, eldritchy mer moon x reader, a tiny bit of 'last day on earth' before 'the sacrifice' but its not for long and theres nothing too scary beyond Moon shenanigans. Very silly and indulgent, enjoy!

You quite literally signed up for this. The village was sad to see you go, but you had offered yourself up and no one could think of anything to say to convince you. Everyone knew this needed to be done, you were the only barrier between the things beyond and your home. 

Those who were rich enough left you all behind, desperately hoping to outrace the end of time itself, but this was your home and you were willing to do whatever you needed to stop it from coming to an end. 

The town wished you the best of luck, treasures and sweet treats to make what they assumed would be your last day as lovely as possible. When the sun set you set off towards the beach and the endless dock, the wood worn but surprisingly unrotted by the tide. The ocean grew quieter the further you walked out, it took a moment to realize the stars were blinking down at you. You would show them no fear, even if your heart was racing. 

When you reached the end you merely waited, glancing around for a toothy maw or an echoing voice. Instead the first thing you noticed was how black the ocean was, swelling not like a wave but as a mound. A spill of inky blackness pushed up through the water, little starry lights on its body winking and flickering as two larger ones opened. One red, one white. 

“Mortal.” The world whispered, no other sounds daring to cover the ancient voice. “What do you have to offer me?”

Tales of escaping death flicker through your mind, of Scheherazade and her many stories, of trading souls of crows and deer to quell death's hunger, even Sisyphus's tricks (even if they did bite him in the end). All of those ideas escaped your brain as your mouth opened. 

“I could give you some scritches.” The coil of blacky ink stopped moving for only the briefest flicker, the cool rush of air that slipped off his coils stilling. 

“What.” It asked, quiet and disbelieving. Your hands came up to where his probably-eyes shimmered, grabbing at the frigid air. 

“Y’know. Scratches. Pets.” With that he began to shift again, the eyes coming closer down, zeroed in on you alone. A god looking down at an ant. 

“You think me a pet?”

“Afraid you’d like it?” An ant with hubris apparently. The air hummed as it thought, the fabric of space itself splitting as rows of teeth shimmered in the moonlight. 

“You have one of your ‘hours’ to convince me this is a worthy sacrifice.” You have half a mind to make up some lie and say you can’t possibly touch him from here, but he coils again before you can think, the cold air that had been rushing your hair back suddenly turning as he shrinks down in on himself. His new form is more humanoid, with tendrils of that inky blackness instead of legs and a mouth far too wide. He grins, eyes red as the devil as his long arms come to rest on the dock. You don’t let him have the satisfaction of whatever line he's thinking up, instead you sit down on the worn wood and pat your lap. 

Like calling a cat.

An ancient terrifying kitty who only wants food and prey. 

Just like a cat actually. 

His grin waivers for a moment before shooting back up, the night sky warping behind him as he moves too fast to hover over you. Even when making himself small he still needed to be bigger than you. Go figure. 

“Hurry hurry.” He crackles, his head tilting at an unnatural angle. 

“Eager.” Your hand meets his jaw as you stretch up, feeling the way the flesh ripples under your touch. Like petting a waterbed, surprisingly not as chilly as the wind he had been pushing around, that was a boon. He stayed quiet as your fingertips rubbed careful circles, glad you cut your nails prior lest he think you were trying to harm him (you doubted he would let you anyhow). 

It took a moment to register what you were hearing, the chilling silence had been put away in favor of the normal sounds of night. The waves lapping at the beach far behind, the crickets even further, and the strangely comforting sound droning out of the body in front of you. 

Oh gods he was purring. 

His eyes that had slowly begun to shut opened to frown as you tried to suppress a smile, your other hand moving to cup his face. He shuddered beneath the little touches, leaning more and more of his weight into you until he literally fell into your lap. You snorted at the sudden intrusion, moving a hand instead up to his head to smooth it back. His hands clawed at the wood on either side of your legs, the purrs vibrating through your knees and legs. 

His head was devoid of hair, instead topped with another tentacle. Little wobbly yellowish spots occasionally opened to peer at your face, forcing you to stroke his head with single digits unless you wanted to poke one of them out and ruin any chance you had at saving the world. 

If they had told you it was this easy you might’ve actually let someone else do it instead.

Eventually your hands went back down onto the wood, the feeling of something not giving under you was both grounding and strange. The ancient one let out a louder rumble, then a louder one before popping up, glaring at you with the heat of a thousand volcanic vents. 

“Why have you stopped, mortal.” He hissed, getting as close to your face as he dared. 

“It’s been an hour, I figured I’d see if I’ve convinced you.” You were trying not to sound too cheeky, but he huffed and turned away anyways. 

“You have done… Well.” His grin grew again, one of his hands coming up to grip your leg. “However, that was not enough to put me to sleep for even a year. This token was hardly worth the day’s end. You have until tomorrow, then I will eat the whole world.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You tugged away, dusting the splinters of wood off your legs as he watched. “Oh,” You turned, smiling as he straightened up a little under your eyes “They never told me your name.” His eyes tilted up at the question, his little tendril hat flickering about. 

“You will call me Moon.” 

“See you tomorrow then, Moon.” And with that you headed back towards the little town you called home. 

Days and, more importantly, nights passed like this for a long while. It seemed that Moon’s hunger wasn’t only for the world, but also for any form of affection he could get. Most nights he would rest his head in your lap and purr, clawing at the wooden safety of the dock. One night you decided to start bringing a blanket and were delighted when he started kneading it like biscuit dough. 

Little cat indeed. 

Sometimes you two would talk while you sat, he didn’t have a lot of experiences to talk about, but he seemed to like listening to you talk about your day. The goings on in your life, the shock of the town that he hadn’t eaten you or their world yet, what kind of treats you made for dinner. 

When you brought him a little pie he looked over the moon (ha), the cherry filling dripping down his hands would’ve looked a lot more terrifying if his ‘hat’ wasn’t wagging at 90 miles per hour. You made him wash the sticky mess before cuddling, and as a token for cleanliness you let him drag you into his lap. The vibrations from his mouth into the nape of your neck was ticklish, but not terrible enough that you regretted it. The little spines down his back curling into your fingers as though they were trying to snatch you up and hold you there forever. 

That was the first night you lost count of the time, staying almost two hours before you realized your mistake. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll let that count towards tomorrow?” Moon’s face scrunched more than you thought possible, making you giggle as you waved off the idea. “Guess not.”

The nights only seemed to grow longer from there, either by your own hand or by his (you suspected some nights he warped time to move just a little slower, but there was never any proof beyond his sly little grin and wiggling tendrils). 

“You fell asleep during our time little mortal.” He purred, his hand cupping your face as you tried your best to stay awake enough to hear. “You’ll owe me more time tomorrow.” You were too sleepy to argue (despite the fact he definitely knocked you over so you’d be laying down), nuzzling back into the blanket for five more minutes that stretched on for a bit longer than they should’ve. 

One night he was more riled up than you had ever seen, the ocean rolling as his tendrils kicked them up. He didn’t even straighten up when you called out to him, instead he seemed to pout even more.

“What’s wrong nighty?” Moon huffed, pulling you to the edge of the dock instead so he could keep kicking up the ocean (though notably the bubble around you two stayed calm). 

“The mortals have made a terrible treachery against me! After I have been so kind as to allow them into my waters!!” Ah yes, another hour in favor of him letting boats leave the harbor to look for more people. Your hands rubbed over his tendril hat, squeezing it back as it wrapped around your wrist. 

“Oh dear, what did they do this time.” Moon hissed, his fingers digging into the back of your shirt as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip. 

“They have made noises at me.” Your brain fizzled out for a second before the giggles kicked in, Moon whining in indignation as he buried his face into your tummy. 

“Horrible! Cruel! Laughing at my pains! They make loud honkings at me like geese! After I was so kind!” 

“Aww poor baby, how could they honk at such a powerful thing?” 

“Terrible, laughing at my pain! You agree with their honkings!” 

“C’mon now, I’m sure they were just trying to get you out of the way. Maybe they were thanking you for not taking out your wrath on them?” Moon huffed, rubbing his face against your shirt. 

“A horrible offering. You owe me double for their treachery. 

“Alright, alright. Just for tonight.” 

It never was. 

[i-will-just-nyom-bi]

I haven't watched the trailer for Venom 3, but I imagine Venom searching for another host (and killing like 30 people while doing so bc they weren't a match) just so he could dance with Eddie and make out again like in the first movie

[novelconcepts]

Jokes aside, I really do like what they did with Agatha and Rio all the way through. They really are antagonists; Rio’s trying to do her job, fulfill the function of nature’s balance, and Agatha’s whole deal is to outrun her like the wind. Immortality, power, a refusal to play by the rules is Agatha’s MO, and here comes Death, falling in love with her.

Death, whom Agatha assists time and time again by killing everyone she comes into contact with—and who blames her still, for taking her child, even though Rio fully broke her own rules by giving him a number of years in the first place—and who still believes she’s better than dying, despite it all. And of course, in a way, she is! Death is in love with her! She’s in love with Death! That in itself is balance, and it throws the whole system desperately out of wack at the same time, because how do you love Death and still prioritize immortality so much that you’d give anything, sacrifice anyone, to keep running? For centuries! They’ve been doing this dance for centuries! This is the one person Agatha can’t con, can’t steal from, and still! Of course! Of course she still manages to pull a fast one, because Death has fallen in love with the ultimate con woman. Because they are, in a way, equal and opposite, balanced and forever unstable. Because Death cannot stop for love, not even for you, Agatha Harkness. Death cannot stop for love, but she can maybe run a little slower. And, when she catches you, she can perhaps turn her head from the life she’s made bloom out of your bones…and let you slip free one last time.

[kalechip247]

i’m too autistic to handle this like a normal person i feel like throwing up and crying out of excitement

[crowholtz]

In the Grip of The Devil

Strahd x Helene commission. An idea I've had rolling in my head for a while in our campaign. When Helene laid dying once, Strahd came to her in the ethereal plane and offered her a boon of power. While there, she saw a red thread connecting her and Strahd together.

In their masochistic tango over the course of the campaign, they cannot help but cling together, even as Helene tries to pull away from him and embrace her divine heritage.

The real question is though - is she pulling him up, or is he pulling her down?

Art by the insanely talented and skilled @syqkos

[thelovers-2001]

I Met Her In A Dream (Part 2)

Folly tells her perspective and recounts her findings upon meeting Moore.

< Part One

[barb-being-mentally-ill]

Hope it’s not against the rules but here’s a little sneak peak of one of the megaop week illustrations I’m prepping rn ;)

[raisedbythetv89]

she who hangs out a lot in cemeteries - not just because she’s forced to but because she wants to

[chronicowboy]

[anerstellae]

Giving them the little dance they didn’t have because of Ned Low. I feel like they’re both pretty bad dancers but they’re having fun (they can’t help but stop ALL THE TIME to hug and kiss)(they’re so in love, it’s disgusting)(the crew looks sick of their sweetness, and I think Jim is about to throw up)

…Hum so yeah, this was supposed to be a full piece, but you know doing a full piece during Inktober is a bad idea so I quickly put flat colors. I’ll probably finish it in a few weeks.

Inktober day 6!