#diamonds & dancefloors era

[dailyavamax]

[stressedjuice]

tagged by @reptilia2003 to list 4 albums i've been listening to a lot lately. thanks molly!

heard it in a past life - maggie rogers: light on was on a playlist i was listening to recently and i loved it. after sabs recc'd her in tcol, i listened to the rest of the album and haven't been able to stop listening since

lonesome dreams - lord huron: i recently got re-obsessed with a movie i loved many years ago and the vibes of this album fit in so well with that universe and i've been really digging it

so much (for) stardust - fall out boy: yeah this one's very easily my aoty

chemistry - kelly clarkson: i've alwasy loved kelly and this album is beautiful and not your typical divorce album. it tells the entire story of a relationship and just. whew.

tagging @shinybrandon @justlikeadagger and @ecouter-bien if y'all want!

[scnkissed]

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃

quite the eclectic taste in music, lana del rey and arctic monkeys have made it on to her wrapped for the last few years. i imagine her having a sort of tumblr girl era as a teenager because every hot girl had one. if a full wrapped playlist was to be created i'm sure you'd fine some more artists from that era scattered throughout, from the neighbourhood to marina and the diamonds. late teens into her twenties she began to branch out more, exploring and embracing new artists and genres. she really just loves something that she can sing along to or dance to, from the kitchen to the dancefloor. these tunes will follow her everywhere, lipgloss being applied in front of her mirror, serenading dulce who'd much rather a scrap from whatever she is cooking rather than her singing into the end of a wooden spoon. stretched out on a beach towel, eyes closed while she soaks up the sun, these artists have followed her everywhere. in her pursuit of a hot girl summer and new year's resolutions, carmen is on a mission to enrich her mind. so when you catch her not listening to music but she still has her headphones on, she's diving back into subjects she left behind and exploring new realms of knowledge. for her, podcasts and audiobooks are not just entertainment, they're educational experiences.

@santainspohq

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, March 10

Darla: Are you sure this is a good idea? Boy: It's a great idea, now come on.

~~Welcome to the Hellmouth~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Consuming by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, R)

Fall to Pieces by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

out of the gutter by ripslayer (Buffy/Faith, M)

Riley Doesn't Know by all_choseny (Buffy/Spike, M)

The Ship We Build by InMyOwnHeadItGoesLikeThis (Firefly crossover, Scoobies, T)

The Big Bad by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, G)

Lightening On the Wind by DragonsPhoenix (Willow, G)

A Ripper era Giles/Ethan fic snippet by alexsrousseau (not rated - worksafe, posted as an image)

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger by fortes775 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Murder On the Dancefloor, Ch. 1-4 (COMPLETE!) by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Rise Of The Hydra by Joan963z (Buffy/Spike, R)

Spuffy vs The Creature from the Black Lagoon by satinsafe (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Doll-Baby by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Curse of Jamie Lloyd by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Reaping by CheekyKitten (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Creature Feature by mcgnagallsarmy (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Deadly Diamonds by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, R)

Buffy needs a vacation by To Be Hers (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Let Me Love You by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Buffy vs the Creature by cawthraven (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Manifest by EllieRose101 (Buffy/Spike, R)

Afforded by DarkVoid116 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Love's Eternal Curse by Spikelover4ever (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Wake-Up Call by simmony (Buffy/Spike, R)

X.X, part 9-10 by Rea (Buffy, R, character death)

30 Ways to Say I Love You, part 10: With a Show by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Crossing Over, part 8 by Julikobold (Veronica Mars crossover, Buffy/Spike, G)

Forever and Always? by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, R)

I love you. Ch. 10-11 by Lilacsandorangeblossoms (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

The Big Bad by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, G)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Surviving Together, Ch. 16 by ionlylikebadboys (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Early One Morning, Ch. 22 by all choseny (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Not Just a Boy and a Girl (It's Just the End of the World), Ch. 9 by noctilucent (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Afterburn, Ch. 23 by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

A Little Poet in Her Monster, Ch. 8 by Desicat (Buffy/Spike, R)

Bizarre Double Life, Ch. 10-11 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Glimpses of the Cellar Dweller, Ch. 10 by Maldorana (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Dawnster Drabbles, Ch. 11 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Tales of the Sea, Ch. 3 by DeamonQueen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Something Blue, Ch. 2 by Violette-Milka (NC-17, in French)

Cavalry, Ch. 1-2 (COMPLETE!) by Holly (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Me Without You, Ch. 1-12 (COMPLETE!) by DeamonQueen (Buffy/Spike, R)

Africa, Ch. 1-6 (COMPLETE!) by the_big_bad (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Magic of Sunnydale, Ch. 6 by Buffyworldbuilder (Harry Potter crossover, Buffy, FR15)

Love Lives Here, Ch. 34 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Coming Through, Ch. 51 by hulettwyo (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

To All We Guard, Ch. 8 by simmony (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Service Unit, Ch. 6 by hulettwyo (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Enemies to Ghost Hunters, Ch. 10-11 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Bizarre Double Life, Ch. 10 by violettathepiratequeen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Balance, Ch. 10-11 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Triangles, Ch. 10-11 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike/multiple others, NC-17)

Embrace, Ch. 10-11 by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, R)

Tag, You're It! Ch. 10 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Conversations in the Dark, Ch. 9-10 by Tessa (Buffy/Spike, R)

The Dreaded Lurgi, Ch. 10 by SomeKindOfADeviant (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Accidental Casualties, Ch. 7 by Julikobold (Buffy/Spike, PG-13, character death)

Dead End, Ch. 10 by all choseny (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Pick Me Up, Ch. 9 by Dusty (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

The Dawnster Drabbles, Ch. 10 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, PG)

Left on Read, Ch. 9-10 by ashcrashed (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Out of the Wasteland, Ch. 9-11 by Harlow Turner (Buffy/Spike, R)

Bad Idea, Right? Ch. 1-7 by scratchmeout (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Images, Audio & Video]

buffy summers i’m in love with you!!! by belleandsaintsebastian (Buffy, worksafe)

If you didn’t know, you can play Buffy in VLC player and go to effects and enable waves by breezybeej (Angel, worksafe)

Meme: Spike and Spuffy screenshots with text posts added as captions by littlenastieswewhispered (somewhat nsfw text)

sleepy mornin selfie 💤💕 by sundayroadkill (Buffy/Spike, worksafe)

i've only had tara for one day but if anything... by mistyintherivers (Tara, worksafe)

A gifset based on MCorey1317’s The Reunion Trilogy by mycatismyfriend (ensemble, worksafe)

Manip: Comfort (Keep Your Enemies Closer part 6) by disco-tea (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Artwork: Wanna Bone Like a Skeleton by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, R)

Hand in Flightless Hand - Artwork by tragic (Buffy, Spike, OC, PG-13)

Artwork: Hell of the Ball by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, G)

Finally completed my Lego Buffy cast! by StarSkates (Scoobies, worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Sooo... Um. "Fool for love" huh. by raven--stag

The Freshman is a very very good episode by coraniaid

[Recs & In Search Of]

“The Reunion Trilogy” by MCorey1317 recced by mycatismyfriend

[Fandom Discussions]

Still very striking to me both that (1) Angel gives Buffy the “you’re not like other girls” speech twice... by coraniaid

Wacky idea. The reason magic in season 6 of Buffy took on a drug thing... by confusedguytoo

Seeley Booth meets Angel one day. by enigmatist17

Buffy is so weird about Spike in season 7 by horsegirlhob

spike is the closest thing to death that buffy can still get her arms around by gingerteaonthetardis

it is so fucking funny to me that when angel realizes buffy is being hunted by the order of taraka he's like... by jennycalendar and others (further discussion in the replies)

real talk though how many students do u think have inadvertently pinged buffy’s startle reflex? by jenny-calendar

there better be a damn good reason why Angel did the memory thing in season 4 finale by b3_k1nd_rw1nd

Question: A Hole in the World by zombiehoosier

Which breakup makes you the saddest? by Johnnystation

How would Buffy and Faith interact in season six? by sadhungryandvirgin

What is something you wish you could say to Buffy and why? hosted by Haru_Mayfly

In 2024 do you think Giles still thinks "books are better than technology? by jdpm1991

Sam Zabuto - Kendras watcher... by primal_slayer

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

Mark Lutz will be at Whispers from the Hellmouth Apr 20-21 - via jamiemarsters

James Marsters Lexington Comic & Toy Con 2024 Reports, Pics & Videos via jamie_marsters

James Marsters' next scheduled con appearance is Comic Con Aberdeen Mar 23-24 - via jamie-marsters

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[radioeuroextasis]

MARC MYSTERIO

"THE DANCEFLOOR" de MARC MYSTERIO x FLO RIDA ¡LA FECHA DE IMPACTO ES ESTA SEMANA! ¡LLÉVALO A TU PRÓXIMA REUNIÓN DE MÚSICA! Marc Mysterio desafía al legendario Evander Holyfield a una pelea de exhibición por el 'Cinturón de Campeonato de la Paz Universal' honorífico después de que Jake Paul se retirara de la pelea vacante por el título intercontinental de la IBA "Marc Mysterio es una fuerza en el mundo de la música y el ring de boxeo. Es un amigo cercano del WBC y está afiliado a WBC Cares, el brazo benéfico del WBC. Apoyamos los esfuerzos de Marc en el boxeo", afirma Jill Diamond, Secretaria Internacional del CMB. El héroe irlandés, boxeador invicto y artista multiplatino de las listas de Billboard de EE. UU. y compositor / compositor Marc Mysterio recibió la bendición de IBA Boxing para pelear por su título vacante intercontinental de peso súper crucero (200-220 libras) contra Jake Paul (no clasificado). Sin embargo, a pesar de las afirmaciones públicas de Paul de que quiere convertirse en campeón, y de que Marc Mysterio lo llamó respaldado por la IBA y el CMB para un campeonato vacante, en su lugar optó por un peleador retirado -o 'jabroni', como Marc se refiere al nativo de Dakota del Norte afirmando que 'no es Brock Lesnar', sin ninguna victoria notable. "No me sorprende. A pesar de que Jake Paul tiene una asociación honoraria con nosotros, las acciones hablan más que las palabras, se le dio una oportunidad de campeonato en bandeja de plata con Marc dispuesto a viajar a Puerto Rico, en lugar de Irlanda, en la cartelera de Serrano el 8 de marzo por el Campeonato Intercontinental de Peso Súper Crucero de la IBA con la condición de que Marc estaría en 205, y estaba en 203 cuando la propuesta fue hecha tanto por la IBA como por el equipo Marc! Nikisa, la mánager de Jake, rechazó la idea de plano. Nuestra opinión es que Jake conoce sus límites y el boxeo es su forma de continuar con sus bromistas de Vine y YouTube. No veo que su carrera dure mucho más dado su hábito de fumar y salir de fiesta.", señala el entrenador de Marc desde hace mucho tiempo, el Oficial de Nivel 3 del Equipo de EE. UU., Greg Leschishin, quien ahora oficiará los Clasificatorios Olímpicos el 16 de marzo en Albuquerque. Pero, cuando una puerta se cierra, ¡otra podría abrirse! "A los 12 años, el entrenador Greg me preguntó cuál era mi objetivo en el boxeo, y le dije: 'Quiero ser el próximo Evander Holyfield' y luego me enseñó a vendarme las manos y nos pusimos a trabajar. Estaba bien encaminado antes de romperme el tendón de Aquiles jugando un partido de baloncesto en UCONN. Ese revés me abrió la puerta a la m��sica, que fue y es una bendición, pero nunca dejé de entrenar. Todos vimos la última pelea con Holyfield, y tengo mis sospechas personales sobre su oponente, así como los golpes ilegales de conejo con los que golpeó a Evander. Ninguna leyenda debería salir así. Me importa un bledo si tiene 61 años, ¡ese sigue siendo el "verdadero negocio"! Jake es una pelea fácil estilísticamente. Evander es un oponente mucho más difícil, ya que su estilo neutraliza muchos de mis puntos fuertes, y viceversa. ¡Espero que llegue hasta el final como Rocky Balboa vs. Mason "The Line" Dixon! Es una historia infernal: ¿Saldrá el único 4 veces campeón de peso pesado a la cima, o pasaré la antorcha a mí que estoy luchando por toda Irlanda? Sin embargo, Marc Mysterio, similar a su compañera heroína irlandesa Katie Taylor, se mudó de Irlanda a Connecticut para asistir a UCONN como estudiante-atleta. "Siempre he creído en Marc Mysterio. Explosivo poder de nocaut a dos manos, hábil juego de pies/defensa, ¡sin mencionar la mejor conciencia del ring que he visto en mis 50 años en el deporte! Su currículum habla por sí mismo, tanto en el deporte como en la música, y es muy buenoEs un honor trabajar con él desde los 12 años hasta ahora". señala el entrenador Greg, también profesor de Historia del Rock N' Roll en UMASS Boston y retirado de la USAF. Sin embargo, a pesar de las afirmaciones públicas de Paul de que quiere convertirse en campeón, y de que Marc Mysterio lo llamó respaldado por la IBA y el CMB para un campeonato vacante, optó por un peleador retirado sin victorias notables. "No me sorprende. A pesar de que Jake Paul tiene una asociación honoraria con nosotros, las acciones hablan más que las palabras, se le dio una oportunidad de campeonato en bandeja de plata con Marc dispuesto a viajar a Puerto Rico, en lugar de Irlanda, en la cartelera de Serrano el 8 de marzo para el Peso Súper Crucero Intercontinental de la IBAEl campeonato con la condición de que Marc estaría en 205, ¡y ahora mismo está en 203! Nikisa, la mánager de Jake, rechazó la idea de plano. Nuestra opinión es que Jake conoce sus límites y el boxeo es su forma de continuar con sus bromistas de Vine y YouTube", señala el entrenador de Marc desde hace mucho tiempo, el oficial de nivel 3 del equipo de EE. UU., Greg Leschishin, quien ahora oficiará los Clasificatorios Olímpicos el 16 de marzo en Albuquerque. Pero, cuando una puerta se cierra, ¡otra podría abrirse! "He estado en contacto tanto con Ahmed del equipo Holyfield como con la IBA para organizar una llamada para finales de esta semana, estoy seguro de que lograremos que Marc Mysterio vs. Evander Holyfield cruce la línea de meta, ya que su equipo son profesionales totales con los que esperamos trabajar en un evento mutuamente beneficioso para beneficiar a WBC Cares", afirma Kyle Kennedy, Asistente ejecutiva de Marc Mysterio. "Tenemos 2 advertencias para la pelea de Holyfield en nombre de la seguridad de los luchadores: Pruebas completas de nivel olímpico o de la USADA, ¡sin 'Whizzinator'! Los análisis de sangre estándar son VIH y hepatitis B. Exigimos que se agreguen las pruebas de hepatitis C y esperamos que otras comisiones hagan lo mismo con Evander y Marc a la cabeza.", concluye el entrenador del equipo de EE. UU., Greg, un defensor desde hace mucho tiempo de la seguridad de los luchadores. La pelea se disputará como una exhibición, oficialmente, pero será juzgada y el ganador recibirá el primer "Campeonato Universal de la Paz", en caso de que Holyfiend acepte el desafío del irlandés. "Evander se llama a sí mismo un guerrero, sin embargo, ¡mis líneas de sangre directas son las de los guerreros celtas! De cualquier manera, somos humanitarios, pero en el cuadrilátero seremos gladiadores, ¡exhibición o no!". afirma un confiado Marc. Con respecto a WBC Cares, Marc afirma: "Ayudamos a niños desfavorecidos en más de 170 países en todo el mundo. El regalo más importante en la vida es una segunda oportunidad, sin embargo, ¡algunas personas no reciben una primera! Mi misión es educar a nuestros más jóvenes y vulnerables sobre la importancia de aprovechar una primera oportunidad y la importancia de la superación personal. Incluso si solo puede ahorrar $ 1, ¡es el pensamiento lo que cuenta! Por favor, acércate https://wbcboxingcares.com/ para ayudar a dar esa primera oportunidad a alguien que podría convertirse en el próximo Marc Mysterio, el próximo Jake Paul o incluso la próxima Katie Taylor". El concurso propuesto se llevaría a cabo a un máximo de 220 libras. Evander Holyfield pesó 224 en su último combate en el que fue detenido por un ex luchador de MMA en el primer asalto: "Ninguna leyenda debería salir así. Dado el cambio de sede de última hora, dudo que hayan tenido tiempo de probar a su oponente para detectar PED. Ese no era el verdadero Evander. Quiero ver al verdadero Evander Holyfield una vez más y permitirme volver a presentarme al mundo y pasar a Blondie, también conocido como Jake Paul por el vacante Campeonato Intercontinental de Peso Súper Crucero de la IBA, en Europa, alrededor de Halloween", concluye Marc. En caso de que Marc gane, ¿sigue abierta la puerta para Jake Paul? "Dile a Jake que deje de fumar mientras golpea la bolsa para las cámaras, tómate esto en serio y sé un modelo a seguir, no un bromista, ¡crece joven!", lo que implica su política de puertas abiertas. "Jake, prepárate para Halloween, será un caos para ti y esperemos que esos cinturones aún estén vacíos. Pero, lo primero es lo primero, tengo que retirar a una leyenda, de una vez por todas, ¡pero con respeto y dignidad! Sin embargo, veo que esto va a un lugar al que nunca he ido antes: la distancia. Hablaré con Larry Holmes para obtener consejos sobre su(s) experiencia(s) con Evander de forma inminente", concluye el irlandés-canadiense que está haciendo su tarea, mientras que simultáneamente el éxito de Marc "The Dancefloor" con Flo Rida recientemente encabezó las listas de Amazon tanto en EE. UU. como en el Reino Unido, sin mencionar que llegó a la lista Billboard Hot Dance de EE. UU. Rick Derringer, mejor conocido por 'Real American' utilizado por Hulk Hogan como su música de entrada a la WWE, interpretaría la canción de entrada de Mysterio, "Zombie" de The Cranberries, una canción escrita para detener la violencia en Irlanda del Norte y ayudar a la reunificación, "Nuestro deporte promueve la inclusión para todos. Para mí, 'Zombie' fue un grito de guerra para evitar que hermanos y hermanas se pelearan entre sí y nos diéramos cuenta de que ambos somos irlandeses blancos y pálidos que no nos bronceamos bien". dice Marc en línea con su cuarto bisabuelo, Pádraig Dillon, un luchador a puño limpio en Dublín en la década de 1840 y florista de renombre mundial. ¿Aceptará Evander y tendrá su momento 'Rocky Balboa', o Marc cumplirá su sueño de la infancia contra su héroe... PARA MÁS INFORMACI��N: Kyle Kennedy ecard@tuukkastracks.com Read the full article

[avamaxchile]

(ES) “Diamonds & Dancefloors” uno de los álbums del 2023 más esperado según la revista Uproxx:

“Ava Max, que ya había anunciado sus primeros singles, "Weapons" y "Million Dollar Baby", se enfrenta a 2023 con fuerza. Su álbum de enero es tan brillante como sugiere el título. "Es como una nueva ola de música pop, y era necesario. Me encanta", dijo a Uproxx el año pasado sobre su sonido de inspiración disco”

——

(EN) "Diamonds & Dancefloors" one of the most anticipated albums of 2023 according to the Uproxx magazine:

“Teased with early singles “Weapons” and “Million Dollar Baby,” Ava Max is taking on 2023 with a vengeance. Her January album is just as shimmery as the title suggests. “It’s like a new wave of pop music, and it was needed. I love it,” she told Uproxx last year about her distinct disco-inspired sound”.

[tameila]

April Week Two Albums.

April 11th: Ma Fleur, The Cinematic Orchestra

familiarity: Was in the mood for some orchestral flourishes on this fine Monday and went, “You know what always sounded right up my alley but I only ever listened to one of their songs? The Cinematic Orchestra”. So, anyway, here we are!

favorite(s) before listen: To Build a Home

favorite(s) after listen: To Build a Home, That Home, Music Box, Time and Space

April 12th: London Calling, The Clash

familiarity: I would say that I know all of The Clash’s hits  but I have never sat down and actually listened to one of their albums. recommended by @jabletown​ 

favorite(s) before listen: London Calling, Lost in the Supermarket

favorite(s) after listen: London Calling, Lost in the Supermarket, Hateful, Wrong ‘Em Boyo

April 13th: Wet Leg, Wet Leg

familiarity: This album popped up in my Spotify recommendations and, after also having them pushed to me through my tiktok algorithms, it felt like a good time to check ‘em out

favorite(s) before listen: N/A

favorite(s) after listen: Chaise Longue, Angelica, Wet Dream, Ur Mom, Too Late Now

standout lyric: that part in “Ur Mom” where she’s like,”I’ve been working on my loudest and longest scream”? cathartic. wish that were me.

April 14th: ¡Viva la Cobra!, Cobra Starship

familiarity: Foreseeing a rough end to the week, I decided to revisit another old pop punk haunt that was also recommended to me by my best friend. Cobra Starship was never amongst my “favorites” of their era, but I saw them open for FoB once and their songs that I did love I loved very much, so it felt only natural that I should give them the “lemme see if I was missing something” treatment. Also, I meant to start with their first album but only realized halfway through this one that I’d chosen the wrong one. I was just eager to hear “Kiss My Sass”. That’s their best song.

favorite(s) before listen: The City Is at War, Guilty Pleasure, Kiss My Sass**, Damn You Look Good and I’m Drunk

favorite(s) after listen: The City Is at War, Guilty Pleasure, Kiss My Sass**, Angie, Prostitution Is the World’s Oldest Profession, My Moves Are White (White Hot, That Is)

additional notes: I love “Damn You Look Good and I’m Drunk”. I do. That “S-C-A-N-D to the A to the L-O-U-S” chant? iconic. but it has been forcibly removed from my favorites because I just can’t stomach the transphobia of the “VIP party boys” interlude these days

April 15th: While the City Sleeps, We Rule the Streets; Cobra Starship

familiarity: Cobra Starship’s New Jersey energy is so strong that, even though I never knew that they were from New Jersey...I knew.

favorite(s) before listen: Send My Love to the Dancefloor, Bring It (Snakes on a Plane)

favorite(s) after listen: Send My Love to the Dancefloor, Bring It (Snakes on a Plane), The Kids Are All Fucked Up, Keep It Simple

additional notes: I feel like this first album was very run-of-the-mill, standard pop punk. Like, if I didn’t know it was a Cobra Starship album, nothing about the lyrics or sound would have stood out to me as being their style. Their personality as a group really jumped out in their next two albums.

April 16th: Hot Mess, Cobra Starship

favorite(s) before listen: Good Girls Go Bad, Hot Mess

favorite(s) after listen: Good Girls Go Bad, Hot Mess, Nice Guys Finish Last, Pete Wentz is the Only Reason We’re Famous, Living in the Sky with Diamonds

April 17th: Night Shades, Cobra Starship

favorite(s) before listen: You Make Me Feel...

favorite(s) after listen: You Make Me Feel..., Anything for Love, Don’t Blame the World It’s the DJ’s Fault, Fucked in Love

additional notes: I never really got into this album and, if I had to guess, it’s because this album felt like a more matured version of their first and let go of the more campy, playful style that they embraced with their two middle albums. I just feel like this album had nothing to offer that I couldn’t get from any other pop punk album. A decent listen, but it’s a shame that this is the album that they finished off on.

[mooosicaldreamz]

please do a song by song review of lover i beg u

oh......u didn’t have to beg!!!! i’ll give it to you 4 FREE.

I FORGOT THAT YOU EXISTED: what i enjoy about this song is that it is fun and not especially mean, just like, shrug emoji. i think sometimes when ur in a relationship that is not especially amazing and you reach the point where you forget that you dated someone is the funniest thing and its such a strange moment. it’s a good tonesetter for the album, bc its so fun and chill and like, whatever. it has the same energy that i think we are never getting back together wanted to have. i LOVE the “i just forget what they were” breakdown. what a fun, bouncy song. easy listening to start the album. calvin harris rip.

CRUEL SUMMER: i love jack antanoff vERY much and have liked his work with fun. and as bleachers, and i think his production on lorde and taylor’s albums has been so wonderful. this song just reeks of him and it’s so like, ascendent, how it builds up and up into the chorus. i think it’s interesting that she reaches so high on the chorus. “summer’s a knife/i’m always waiting for you to cut to the bone/devils roll the dice/angels roll their eyes.” the breakdown is once again wonderful abt crying in the back of the cab on the way back from the bar - i feel like this album and its concept brings a much more natural version of taylor that i think has largely (and perhaps rightfully, considering the evolution of her fame and craft) been in hiding since probably red but maybe even since speak now. “I LOVE YOU AIN’T THAT THE WORST THING YOU EVER HEARD // HE LOOKS SO PRETTY LIKE A DEVIL” while she’s screaming it is more exuberant than ANYTHING on 1989 or rep (and i love both of those albums). 

LOVER: i love how sleepy soft this song is, i love how simple it is, and it’s made me cry like, six times. the wedding band sound is just, so fun and beautiful. it really makes me feel like i’m drunk, happy, and dancing really slow on an emptying dancefloor. i’m going to assume that was the vibe. it’s so soft. god it feels like a cloud. i enjoy how simple the lyrics are in this song, and how the words get to breathe and simmer. they take on a lot of meaning bc of how much space they’re given by the echo and by pacing. it’s so nice. i’ve gone back and forth on whether i like the wedding vows thing, but i think it might be nice. i love “swear to be overdramatic AND TRUE! to my lover”

THE MAN: the bumpy sound of the bass beat is really fun, and i think the song is a good bop, but it doesn’t say anything i don’t already know - but i think taylor bringing up the back end on the Woke train, trying to reach all those people who still aren’t totally sure about the gays or feminism but also think trump is terrible and are now reconsidering their life choices is a fine enough goal for her social justice initiatives. also i just realized she says “getting bitches and models” which she already does, you don’t have to pretend taylor

THE ARCHER: this song is sonic perfection the rolling synths the dreamy voice, the awful awful breakdown at the end of “they see right thru me / can you see right thru me / i see right thru me” “help me hold onto you” i just ... can’t handle this song. it’s perfect. i like the implication throughout this album that taylor is in Love, the big real kind, and i support her and joe bc i think it’s obvious their relationship has totally like, taken her to a new and good emotional space. anyway i like the implication that taylor fell in real, big Love and realized that love is still a fucking mess, like it doesn’t solve all the problems. “ALL OF MY HEROES DIE ALL ALONE” i mean come on. i hate her

I THINK HE KNOWS: this song is a bop “i think he knows his hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it’s mine” is a stn move. the rumbly noise in the chorus and the synthy breakdown is a beast, it owns itself. there’s a real comfortable self-confidence that i, once again, maintain has been missing from taylor’s music up until now. also that moaning noise distracts me every time. “hand on my thigh/we can follow the sparks/i’ll drive” tAYLOR! inappropriate. i’ve seen some takes on this song that it’s not a fave, but it’s a fun song and people are wrong. there’s not one song on this album that i’m like this is bad in the way that i DO NOT like some songs on rep

MISS AMERICANA AND THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE: the first thing i thought when i heard this song is that it sounds like lana del rey. give it a re-listen, it does. sounds just like idk, “high by the beach” but it also rings a bell for me of electra heart era marina and the diamonds (like “teen idle”). i like this song a lot, even though it’s relatively oblique in my opinion on what it’s.....actually about. “you play stupid games / you win stupid prizes” is a great lyric in masterful taylor swift fashion bc it looks stupid when u write it on paper. i like the shouting breakdown thing that happens on the back end of the song with go/fight/win (OH I JUST GOT that, it’s like cheerleaders shouting). i’m a fan of it, but it’s an oddball on the tracklist.

PAPER RINGS: this song rings with a lot of red’s chaotic energies but with the adult sensibilities that she’s rolling with on this album. i love the sort of down-home shouty stuff happening on the verses, and the “kiss me once / kiss me twice / three times” bridge. it’s a good one. “i hate accidents/except when we went from friends to this” is a fun and good lyric. i LOVE the key change i LOVE the “wrap your arms around me baby boy” for some reason very much. 

CORNELIA STREET: i mean obviously this song is wonderful. i’ve seen much Discourse about this song being related to Kaylor which seems plausible. it’s clear that taylor wrote some of these songs in the present tense when they’re in the past, which i think is really interesting. i LOVE “jacket ‘round my shoulder is yours” what a good inversion of the phrase. i love the way that the phrase cornelia street breaks up the lines in a really weird way, because of how its syllables run. it’s a good song. it’s a soft boi

DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS: early frontrunner for my fave song!!!!! love the opening repeating noise, and the simple guitar plucks initially. taylor’s voice takes up front and center bc it isn’t especially altered/layered/echoed like it is in some other spots on the album. it has an amazing rolling pace on its verses that’s followed by the slower pace on the chorus. “i ask the traffic lights if it’ll be okay and they say i don’t know” i am certain that this song is about karlie kloss and i will not accept any other possibilities i know she said it was about a movie but i don’t care. “my hips my heart my body my love / tryna find a part of me you didn’t touch” wow taylor god what a gifted lyricist i hate her

LONDON BOY: this song is fun. “i saw the dimples first / then i heard the accent” i love the rising effect on “walking on the afternoon” resetting with the horns. it’s just a song that makes you bob your head. she does sound like she’s throwing out as many english references as she possibly can which is amusing and i don’t know what the legs are on this song bc of that - it could come across as somewhat kitschy. but! also i’d like to start some discourse bc i think it’s CLEAR that taylor isn’t afraid of using pronouns or even very direct references to who she’s with (this song is basically an I LOVE JOE ALWYN shirt), and it makes it even more clear when she’s avoiding using pronouns or direct description. the two songs before this don’t do that in the same way that this song does. 1989 barely uses pronouns at all. i’m just saying. taylor is bi is what i’m saying.

SOON YOU’LL GET BETTER: obviously this song is sad and it makes me cry i have no further commentary except that it’s a wonderful, simple song that has an excessively odd placement on this album following after london boy

FALSE GOD: this song is sexy! and interesting. the horns come back again, which is good and her voice is lower. honestly the line “the altar is my hips” is just..........a lot for me to compute. “i’m golden when you touch me / hell is when i fight with you” the bridges are really fun, sexy, soft. this song is like when lover ends and a song with a little more of a sultry feel comes on but ur still drunk so its a little sloppy.

YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN: obviously this song ruined my life. it sent me to the heights of elation and then i sort of had a hangover on it but i’m back around on it guys! it’s a fun, fun, summery song. that chorus with the oh-oh is just .... pop perfection. the bumpy synth noise that goes ba-duh-duh-duh like it’s reverberating is absolutely perfect for the pacing of the song. it’s excessively well-crafted to the point of slickness. it should have been the lead single but what do i know about anything

AFTERGLOW: i know that i wasn’t supposed to be into i pinned your hands behind your back but i was so. this is a continuation of the theme of like, i’m in love but i’m still a mess!!! sorry :) i like this song but it does not inspire me. 

ME!: i don’t know why the exclamation point is there and it sounds much more like a brendon urie song than a taylor song, but it’s fun! i don’t hate it! i can see why it was picked as a lead single - to really illustrate the tonal change from rep to here, but still. spelling is fun, tho.

IT’S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND: this song is simple and so, so so sweet. i love the childhood friends to lovers narrative, and i just. like it. so much. it’s so sweet. and then obviously the horns come back for this one, but don’t overwhelm. this song is a good palette cleanser after the bombast of me!

DAYLIGHT: i tweeted about this but this song reminds me of clean and long live (particularly long live, it for some reason really sounds like that in my head). but i like that it really relates a feeling that i feel sometimes of like, my life was a mess and sometimes still is a mess but bc i’m in a stable and good relationship, things feel approachable, like, if everything goes wrong again, i’ll at least know for sure i have this, and i think this song sort of shows that off with the  “I don’t want to think about anything else.” it’s nice. it’s calm. i read an oral history today about the kanye storming the stage moment at the vma’s because it’s been 10 years since it happened - and i feel like this album and this song, in many ways, are a plateau on the meteoric catapult of taylor’s relationship with fame that really had started to run before that moment but certainly started rolling after that. i think this song is a demonstration of the growth that she’s gone through over the last ten years that we’ve all watched with such close attention. it makes me feel happy for her. i hope she gets to keep this the way it is. i’ve read that she thought for the longest time that this album would be called daylight and i’m honestly? not sure it shouldn’t be. but the vocal note at the end sort of draws it back thru.

it’s a good album. i think the back half of it doesn’t hang as tough all the way thru as the first half, but overall, i think it’s overall quality is better than reputation even though i think reputation, as a concept album, works very well. it’s a great evolution and a real, authentic thing. very impressive that she’s managed to produce four very different albums successively where as many artists don’t change that much from album to album. but i think that’s evidence of the work that’s gone into them, to be honest. death by a thousand cuts is my early fave. 

[thesinglesjukebox]

DUA LIPA - PHYSICAL

[7.50]

It's okay! Move that boogie body!

Leah Isobel: It is a dark and stormy night. In a sinister science lab located somewhere in Carmen Sandiego's plush pomo lair, a pop singer plugs in a neon light, shrugs into a next-season Gaultier lab coat and gets to work. In the reflection of her gold-tinted goggles we see her add one (1) part Extract of "Into You," one (1) part Juice of Newton-John, and four (4) drops of Synthesizer Spice into a contoured beaker. She turns on the flame of a Bunsen burner; stream gushes from her concoction like a geyser, emitting a high, keening refrain. She whispers a few luscious words into the steam -- "diamond," "sssimulation," "adrenaline" -- but her experiment still lacks a certain something. Then -- BOOM! -- in a thundercrash of lightning, it hits her. Eureka! She turns and sees her reflection illuminated in the glass of an emergency axe container, kept onsite in case of fire. "Well," she chuckles to herself as she breaks the glass with a four-inch stiletto heel, "I am creating something... hot." Axe in hand, she chops the neon light into pieces and stuffs the shards, now glittering like a million sequined dancefloors, into the beaker. With the addition of this Decoction of Disco, her potion bubbles... it burbles... then KABOOM: it explodes the entire building and half of the surrounding city! She stands in the wreckage as thunder splits the sky above and sirens wail in the distance. We see Dua's eyes glow green before she throws her head back to the sky and screams: "GAY RIIIIIGHTS!" [9]

William John: Probably the best example of what parts of the Internet's stan culture would facetiously refer to as "gay rights" from a mainstream musical artist since... the last Dua Lipa single, or, failing that, "Into You." Like those precedents, "Physical" is camp but magisterial; playful but extremely melodramatic; sweeping, dance floor ready, and dripping with an exultant swagger. Her reminder to "hold on, just a little tighter" at the bridge is, truthfully, a hollow gesture; at that stage, the listener is so deeply embroiled in her glorious disco caprice as to not really be capable of gripping anything at all. [10]

Jackie Powell: It couldn't be clearer that Dua Lipa had something to prove not only to herself, but to the pop music intelligentsia on her sophomore offering. What has struck me most about the Future Nostalgia cycle is how Dua is executing every facet of it with confidence. On this track, she's not afraid of hitting notes that eclipse the breadth of her previous singles, especially on the bridge. "Physical" is a representative offering of exactly what she's aiming to prove. Each track we've heard so far reflects a different decade accompanied with a modern polish. I don't think I'm the only one who believes Olivia Newton-John's '80s exercise sexual metaphor smash "Physical" deserves the tribute it's getting here. There's a clear homage paid to her and to Patti LaBelle on Lipa's own "Physical." I'm going to interpret her lyric "We created something phenomenal" as a bit of a double-entendre. Not only is it about sex in the narrative of the track, but it's a comment on Lipa's approach to this era and her confidence on every single part of it. The sexual symbolism isn't just in the lyrics, but also in the track's composition and the narrative communicated in the visual treatment. The vocal highs that she hits on the bridge represent a climax musically and sexually. She has so much confidence in the visual treatment, she spends most of it braless. That takes guts. [9]

Tobi Tella: Dua Lipa's perceived lack of personality has turned out to actually be lack of a schtick preventing her from artistically evolving, something many of her peers are plagued with. Also, I've died and gone to gay heaven. [9]

Alfred Soto: The way Dua Lipa's unexpected bon mots and smoky sultriness ride the beat and compete with the strings compensate for a production too dressed up in leg warmers and headbands for my taste -- I mean, her exhortations are more fearsome than erotic. [7]

Julian Axelrod: Pop's '80s revival arms race has escalated to its natural endpoint: the accidental exhumation of Olivia Newton-John. I wish Dua Lipa had used "let's get physical" in a more literal iteration; singing it over hyperdrive synths guarantees it'll be never played in its intended setting, especially when she has half the energy of ONJ. But she hit the mark where it counts: This is going to rule spin classes for the rest of the year. [6]

Brad Shoup: A throwback training-montage track that suggests sex but is really about dancing and Olivia Newton-John erasure. This is Stranger Things pop. [5]

Thomas Inskeep: Sex is natural, sex is fun, sex is best when soundtracked by throbbing '80s synths. [6]

Ashley Bardhan: Okay, fine, I enjoy horny music. Sue me! This song is what would happen if ABBA was brought back to life as a bunch of hot 20-year-olds in little shirts from Fashion Nova. The "let's get physical" chorus feels a little lazy since it's a direct lift from Olivia Newton-John's 1981 hit, but this is a great song to listen to while thinking about that video of Charli XCX holding poppers. No complaints here. [7]

Alex Clifton: I've underestimated Dua Lipa. Her first album had some hits and misses, but Future Nostalgia is shaping up to be one of the best pop releases of 2020 based on the strength of its singles. "Physical" is a cascade of rainbow lights in a roller rink and makes me long to go out to a club, one where I can get down in a huge crowd of people and dance my white-girl ass off poorly. I'm an extreme introvert, so anything that makes me want to leave the house and be around strangers is powerful stuff indeed. It's a little cheesy, but who cares? It's a love letter to the '80s with all the campiness a song citing Olivia Newton-John should have. I'm desperately in love with Dua Lipa after hearing this, and I have a feeling "Physical" will be one of my favourite songs of the year. [9]

Stephen Eisermann: Dua Lipa has quietly become the pop superstar that so many of us wanted Carly Rae to be. Both women make incredible music, but it is Dua who has found commercial success; after hearing "Physical," it seems pretty obvious why. It's a retro-laden, power-pop track that is extraordinary only in the way Dua delivers it. What should be pedestrian instead is hypnotic, infectious, and oh so delicious. [8]

Lauren Gilbert: I promised a friend I'd blurb this song, and now that I've sat down to write it, I have nothing to say. It is a perfect pop song -- Dua knocks it out of the park on this record. I keep getting distracted from writing jamming to the track. I'm dancing while lying down on my couch. She created something phenomenal; we are left with no choice but to stan. [10]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I've justified Dua Lipa's dearth of personality in years past, but this is where things don't add up: her dead-eyed singing makes no sense during the chorus, whose synths lack the fervor to make up for clinical vocal melodies. Around this time last year, we had Lizzo's "Juice"; now we have "Physical" as an example of '80s pastiche that only feels like it exudes energy and passion and charm. [2]

Will Adams: It's neat to have a single that's its own Initial Talk remix, but the synthpop revivalism is a bit too literal, to the point of putting all its chips on an Olivia Newton-John quote. It's not until the bridge -- "keep on DANCING!" -- where the drama locks in and starts, but only starts, to feel real. [6]

Kylo Nocom: Dua Lipa, determined more than ever to win the Popjustice £20 Music Prize, accidentally transforms into Alice Chater in the process. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: If "Physical" being by Dua Lipa wasn't hypertargeted enough to the Popjustice set, is that the synth progression from Saint Etienne's "No Cure for the Common Christmas" in the intro and beneath the chorus? It's certainly the same height of drama. The track attached isn't quite so charged: a little too Lady Gaga circa "Applause" and a little too Peloton instructor quoting Olivia Newton-John for absolutely no reason besides the culture deciding at some point to make the phrase a permanent, meaningless meme. (The song doesn't even sound particularly '80s; the disco strings are the decade prior, and the vocal squiggles on the verse are so specifically 2016 a time traveler's on their way to erase them.) Dua Lipa only betrays a personality on the spoken-word bridge; ironic how that and the vaporous intro, the least physical things on this track, are the most thrilling. [7]

Vikram Joseph: The intro feels like a prickling at the back of your neck, the one-line pre-chorus feels like plummeting six floors in a broken elevator, and the chorus is such a headrush you can practically smell the poppers: "Physical"'s thrills might be straightforward, but they're visceral as fuck. There are vintage Lady Gaga vibes, the "come on!"s are surely a nod to "We Are Your Friends," and the whole thing reminds me, inexplicably, of Bon Jovi's "It's My Life." But Dua Lipa is starting to make this all seem effortless, and the panache with which she delivers "Physical" easily pulls it clear of the gravitational field of its forebears. [9]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: "Physical" dares us to be the boldest versions of ourselves. It finds itself at the perfect intersection of confidence and lust. Dua Lipa is flirting with you with a playfulness she can only possess because she already knows you're going home together -- and she won't let you leave until the dancing is done. Dancing here is instinct, it's synths that sound as sweet as they do sinister, it's salty like the sweat that rolls down your forehead after you've been, well, physical. Dua Lipa is crushing the Confessions on a Dance Floor album that I've long been waiting for Lady Gaga to make. Dance floor music has long been my site of refuge and catharsis, so it's refreshing to be reminded that it can still sound so immediately, eminently thrilling. [9]

Kayla Beardslee: This doesn't quite reach the heights of "Don't Start Now," but damn it comes close. "Physical" should, in theory, be a cookie-cutter pop girl release, but Dua proves once again that she is the most important element in her music. The producers are doing everything right too, but who else could pull off her endearing smirk in "common love isn't for us" or that wonderful growl in "follow the noise"? And Dua takes us through a transcendental bridge that highlights the best qualities of her voice: singing simple lyrics that say everything they need to, she's breathless yet confident, desperate for touch yet satisfied with the musical world she's helped to create. Something phenomenal, indeed: this rollout has been a joy to follow. [9]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: "Physical" takes the opposite approach to "Don't Start Now" -- while that song's studio version swallows up its singer in a beautifully constructed, sterile disco pastiche (the live versions and remixes are much better), turning her into just one more retro cog, "Physical" makes her the center of attention. The production around her is good enough (the synth preset change right before the chorus starts is especially nice), but not particularly coherent or hooky on its own. In the vacuum left, Dua gets to have more fun, charismatically switching between vocal styles and walking around like she owns the place. [8]

Jibril Yassin: A powerhouse vocal colliding headfirst with production that's neither plodding nor limp. It's a song that's meant to feel like a blockbuster and after a few failed tries, it's thrilling to hear Dua Lipa finally nail the landing and sound like the superstar she wants to be. [7]

Michael Hong: "Physical" is magnetic. Its pulse is unrelenting, its atmosphere is shadowy and captivating, and Dua Lipa gives possibly her best vocal performance. There's no sense of the up-and-coming performer who delivered everything with stolid execution, instead, "Physical" is a sly wink of a pre-chorus leading to a forceful command: "baby, keep on dancing like you ain't got a choice." Dua Lipa is at the helm, all thoughts and any other desires are out the window, and the night is neverending. [7]

Joshua Lu: Several of Dua Lipa's past hit songs have relied on a marketable veneer of cool: "New Rules" works because she's the straight-talker friend giving advice, "Don't Start Now" necessitates a stoic character who can't be bothered to fret about her ex, and even on collaborations like "One Kiss" does Dua employ a rather unemotional voice, like she's a blank canvas for Calvin Harris' more playful and engaging production. "Physical" feels like such a departure for Dua not just because of its obvious throwback sound, but because this veneer of cool is completely torn down when the song reaches its rushing chorus. She sounds more and more desperate as her voice climbs and the synths soar above her, and her cries of "come on" ring as desperate instead of dominant. The song is indebted to pop titans of yesteryears (Olivia Newton-John obviously inspired the title, but the theatrics of the song feel more indebted to Bonnie Tyler or Patti Labelle) to the point of it not really feeling like a Dua song, but she sells it all so convincingly that it feels like a natural fit. It's part pop song, part epic showdown, and I look forward to Dua continuing to push herself to the forefront of mainstream pop music greatness. [9]

Scott Mildenhall: Little wonder that Lipa's so keen to get physical, given that she's "dreaming in a simulation" -- her focus seems to be on the former, since the latter exemplifies the aimlessness of the verses in comparison to the locked-and-loaded chorus. That has its thrills, yet never feels as loose as seems intended. "Physical" comes across too in love with the idea of being a kind of Perfect Pop to actually be it; an anthem for kinetics developed via science textbook. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 262: Nick J. Smith  / Bonnie & Klein / Mirage

Having just visited the enchanting balearica of Blair French’s Patio Pastels , NuNorthern Soul now sets its sights on Summer Selections One, a 12” sampler previewing some of the incredible releases the label has lined up for this summer. First up is Nick J. Smith with “Waves Take Hold,” which is from his upcoming Waves Take Control EP. Smith is no stranger to Italian dream house, with the sound featuring prominently in his esoteric rave and psychedelic dancefloor explorations alongside Joe Morris and Iain McBeath in Clandestino. But even given that fact, “Waves Take Hold” is a surprisingly authentic, masterfully constructed, and endlessly intoxicating tribute to this magical era of house music’s history, with jacking rhythms, ascendent acid basslines, tropical idiophonics, and aqueous synth hazes evoking dream house legends such as Leo Anibaldi, Dreamatic, Deep Choice, and Agua Re. 

Bonnie & Klein’s “Ocean Leap,” coming from an EP of the same name, is yet another surprise, as the duo deliver a muscular expanse of dub disco bliss colored through with shades of Greek folk exotica and mystical ocean magic, one that diverts slightly from their recent horizontal offerings on Balearic Social and past outings on Music for Dreams, instead aligning closely with the Singularity / Ergosphere 12” on Leng, the digital only No Escape , and their second EP on Über. Closing out Summer Selections One is Mirage, the new project from the ever amazing Plastic Fantastic. “Endless Ocean”, taken from their Reflections of the Sun EP, inhabits some perfect intersection of spiritual world music, seaside new age, and chill-out trance and moves effortlessly between tribal ambient dreamscapes and climactic passages of slow motion ecstasy sequencing, downbeat drum hypnotics, and piano chord brilliance.

Nick J. Smith / Bonnie & Klein / Mirage - Summer Selections One (NuNorthern Soul, 2019) In Nick J. Smith’s “Waves Take Hold,” the titular waves crash to shore as crystalline drops of liquid swim through hazy house pads. Bass pulses and tapped cymbals hint at a groove while streaks of synthesis glow in the sky…like dolphin dreamwaves bending through sonic prisms. A jacking bassline develops alongside shining cowbell patterns and a four-to-the-floor kick stomp while claps crack over stuttering hat patterns. And once the snare drops and the slamming house jam assumes full power, futuristic ocean tones, percussive panpipes, and cosmic mallet instruments dance through a mediterranean nightscape while synths imitate dreamhouse pianos. Rimshots, guiro scrapes, and timbale fills flash through the spectrum while seemingly infinite webs of idiophonic synth exotica bounce on sunbeams and there’s so much forward motion and physical energy behind the rhythms, especially as the basslines continue chugging towards a sunburst sky. Sometimes the aqueous atmospherics pull away, giving space for percussive panoramas to enchant the mind and angel voices to oscillate before fading into ether while elsewhere, basslines drop out as the kick smashes through squelching riff-outs and layers of ocean ambiance. Then everything breaks apart, fractures, disperses…leaving only dubwise fills rocketing over rimshot cascades and rattling snares. But the delirious club rhythms and gliding basslines soon build back up as rainbow synth hazes surround a joyous dance of virtual marimbas and percussive flutes, with layer after layer coalescing into Italo fantasy club perfection before it all gives way to the peaceful sounds of the sea.

“Ocean Leap” by Bonnie & Klein sees kick drums charging though ecstasy hazes and mermaid space breaths. Mallet sequences are tracked by infectious dub basslines and snare rolls launch the groove into full form, wherein sci-fi noise cymbals cut through the air alongside the duo’s typically perfect ethnological hand drumming. It’s an immersive world of folk infused dancefloor power with synthesized feathers floating on echowaves, brass textures bubbling, and layered idiophones locked into a polyrhythmic ritual. As the beats cut away, swirling phasers and aquatic synth hazes dominate the spectrum while Berlin school sequences are filtered into a cosmic haze. Piano chords bring vibes of ocean melancholia, which are then intensified by deeply romantic acoustic guitar runs, with the song momentarily developing into one of Bonnie & Klein’s classical sundown drifts. But soon, the galloping beats and hypno-basslines resume their exotic dance, with the body swaying back and forth of its own volition within a radiant utopia of island idophonics. And the vibe is pushed even further into romantic euphoria as the bleary piano chords from the ambient midsection reappear…the effect not unlike The Project Club’s transformative rework of Giulio DJ’s “Inner Life”, especially as heavenly orchestrations flow down from a swirling sky. Best of all, mystical pan-pipes start playing ancient hymns to the sun…as if an ocean spirit has risen above the surface with an unknown woodwind constructed from coral while sea creatures weave minimalist webs from seashell vibraphones, driftwood balafons, and marimbas constructed from radiant gemstones. 

For Mirage’s “Endless Ocean,” wind blows across the galactic void, with swirling vortices setting the stage for one of the most heartwarming and spiritual expanses of new age ambiance I have ever heard…as if electronic birds are singing out over a paradise savanna bathed in hues of an impossible sunrise while world music hand drums dance with a joyous tribal energy (imagine Phil Collins gone full balearic). Shakers and deep four-four kicks join the panoramic ethno-percussion and piano chords swell the heart further, with the tracking achieving a similar sort of transportive power as another NuNorthern Soul classic: José Manuel’s “Lusaka.” Huge bass bursts then sweep everything away, setting the stage for hovering space atmospheres and neon sequences. Shakers and hand drums enter as we glide in a beatless wonderland of downtempo trance and once the kicks return, the vibe turns majestic and anthemic...a sort of slow motion stomp through cosmic fantasy worlds, with arps glimmering like celestial diamonds and glowing string orchestrations floating the soul. Mirage then transition us back to the introductory ambiance, where the dreamwave pads now modulate through psychedelic resonances alongside the calming sounds of running water, until it all starts building again towards the heart of 90s chill-out. Everything is kissed by a touch of ecstasy and layers of world percussion float above four-four kicks and infinitely decaying chords of ivory. And as we explode once more into ambient trance euphoria, cascading dub synths surround sky seeking arpeggios and heavenly pianos as they play themes for meadows aglow in golden light and oceans shimmering eternally beneath a newly risen sun.

(images from my personal copy)

[dailyavamax]

avamax: 🌞 the sun is shining, the weather is sweet 💋

[notyourmothersplaylist]

Spandau Ballet is the Best Band You’re Not Listening To

I think my new Karaoke song is “True” by Spandau Ballet; not because it’s their best song, but because it really gets the crowd going.

(Also, I’ve been working on my Tony Hadley impression. It’s getting quite good).

Before last month I don’t think I’d given any thought to Spandau Ballet more than the average person. Sure, I’d heard “True” enough times to know the melody well enough, and sure, I could pick out Tony Hadley’s debonair coif from the “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” lineup and sure, one time when I was way too old for a Neopets account I may have registered a pet named SpandauBallet and then got hacked, never to see her again…

But other than that, yeah, hadn’t really thought of them much.

I got around to watching the fabulous Spandau documentary Soul Boys of the Western World on a whim; I kinda needed something new to put my energy towards (my year of following English nu-glam outfit the Struts on tour had just come to a Christmas halt), so I put it on.

I highly recommend this documentary; it’s a captivating narrative produced and narrated by the band itself, and they tell their stories over the sweetest unseen footage (see: a shirtless Spandau jaunting on a yacht in Australia, drinking champagne to a ragtime version of “True”, played by someone on a piano offscreen). 

I also learned they have some serious bops.

...and they may have singlehandedly made businessman-chic a thing.

1980s America, how could you pass them up and chalk them up as a one-hit-wonder??!?! THEY HAD MORE HITS!

I’m pretty bitter it took me this long to discover the joys of Spandau, but to celebrate my newest musical discovery, here are some of my top Spandau Ballet tunes that aren’t “True”:

“Chant No. 1 (I Don’t Need This Pressure Off)”

I chose this 1981 hit from their second record to kick off the list because it’s got a bit more rhythm and soul than most Americans associate Spandau with, and it’s the first song I heard that compelled me to dive deeper into their catalogue. “Chant No 1.” gives us groovy, move-out-of-the-way-I’m-coming-to-the-dancefloor disco vibes, further burying the dying UK punk movement and jiving on its grave. The drums and rousing chorus really drive this one, setting it apart from much of the band’s catalogue, and it seems to perfectly capture the ‘Blitz Kid’ scene in England in the early 80’s, where they got their start.

  “To Cut A Long Story Short”

This was the first song, off Spandau’s first record Journeys to Glory, and, you guessed correctly; their first hit in 1980. Whereas “Chant” may have felt like a languid groove, this dirty synth-driven hit feels tight and gritty, and it packs in everything I love about the (very) early 80s, before the New Romantic era really grew into itself: avante garde fashion choices that inevitably came from the women’s section at the thrift shop, low-budget gothiness, cropped haircuts (this was before they got too long, remember!), and yes…that early synth sound! Tony’s vocals really bring the power in this, which will come to be a distinguishing part of their sound, although they deviated from this darker vibe after this record.

“Instinction”

"Instinction” starts out with a bang (sorry, headphone users), and it really only gets better from there, trust me. It’s got horns, it’s got synth, it’s got brown leather trousers, it’s got call-and-response vocals, it’s got a John Keeble drum solo…and I think this video is the first sighting of Tony’s tiny microphone, which would become part of his signature look later on! Hooray! We’re still pre-suits at this point, as far as styling goes, but it’s definitely getting there (Kemp brother hat game: strong). “Instinction” was released as a follow-up to “Chant”, and it peaked at #10 in the UK. We’re getting there, boys.

“She Loved Like Diamond” 

We’re taking it down a bit here with this one, but that’s not to say it doesn’t bring the Spandau drama we all know and love. This was a…single? Album cut? Not sure, but there’s a video, and Tony Hadley looks positively dashing in his long coat, roaming through one of those castles that every English artist in the 80’s seemed to film their videos at, bringing flowers to his…dead lover, I guess. Is it a metaphor? Perhaps, but this song showcases just how strong and unique his vocals are, and I’m absolutely here for it.

“Highly Strung”

“Highly Strung” is the third single off True’s successor album, 1984’s Parade. The song did fairly well on various foreign charts (except here in America, because why would we ever get anything nice), and this is where you can undoubtedly see their departure from their earlier productions. Probably hoping to break MTV like their rivals Duran Duran did, “Highly Strung” is to Hong Kong as "Rio” is to Antigua; it’s decadent, it’s lavish, it’s sexy, it’s dramatic…it’s vaguely politically incorrect, and, perhaps most importantly, it’s an excellent chronicle of Martin Kemp’s fabulous mullet. (Oh, and Tony Hadley dons an incredible eyeshadow look towards the end, which is always a plus.) “Highly Strung” boasts a shoulder-shaking groove with fantastic saxophone solos courtesy of Steve Norman (their saxophone player--I know, they have a sax player in the band!), and also, it gives us my favorite Spandau lyric: “she used to be a diplomat and now she’s down the laundromat”. Nice use of rhyming, Gary!  

Anyway, there you have it; some of my favorite Spandau Ballet songs that aren’t "True”. Now, go ahead, dust off that three-piece suit—we’ve got some Spandau karaoke to do.  

Honorable Mentions: “Reformation”, “Paint Me Down”, “Musclebound”, “Only When You Leave”

[jondeacon]

All of the While the City Sleeps asks!

being from new jersey means never having to say you’re sorry: what’s one stereotype of where you come from that actually fits?:

that the majority of us likes spicy and greasy food, the fact that we are pessimistic

send my love to the dancefloor, i’ll see you in hell (hey mister dj): favourite dance song?:

new rules by dua lipa counts?

the church of hot addiction: which of gabe’s haircuts was the best?:

hot mess era, but the one in good girls go bad

the kids are all fucked up: who’re your best friends on here?:

@scarletlizzies and honestly a few others, but consider all my mutuals friends and i love them so much

it’s warmer in the basement: most fucked up fanfic you’ve read?:

m*lk fic

keep it simple: how well does your star sign fit you?:

about 85-90% accurate

it’s amateur night at the apollo creed!: thoughts on midtown?bring it (snakes on a plane): gabilliam?:

yes god

the ballad of big poppa and diamond girl: what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought in the past year?:

the white album vinyl probably?

pop-punk is sooooo ‘05: what were you doing in 2005?:

being an emo kid

you can’t be missed if you never go away: which eye colour do you find prettiest?:

brown/blue

thank you dear

[freersounds]

Stardust - Music Sounds Better With You

A Disco Cut-up that has stood the test of time. Music Sounds Better With You is one of the most well known and commercially successful records of the whole ‘French Touch’ era. Stardust wasn’t even a real band. It was a one off studio project consisting of Thomas Bangalter of Daft Punk fame, fellow disco cut up specialist Alan Braxe and vocalist Benjamin ‘Diamond’ Cohen. Bangalter was at the height of his underground notoriety when the record came out. This was one year after Homework had made the duo darlings of the French House/Techno scene and three years before Daft Punk went stratospheric with Discovery and started to drift into irrelevance in terms of cutting edge electronic music. Music Sounds Better With You was released as a single sided vinyl 12” in 1998 on Bangalter’s own Roulé imprint and licensed as a CD single to Virgin. Roulé had already put out a few impressive records. Bangalter’s fantastic Trax On Da Rocks EP was released in 1995, his chaotic Spinal Scratch in 1996 and Alan Braxe’s similarly banging Vertigo in 1997. All of these were powerful club records, but they were unlikely to generate much interest outside of nightclubs or specialist dance music charts.  Music Sounds Better With You was something else. It was a dancefloor record with enough commercial appeal for the pop charts and mainstream radio. The track has only two key elements. The first being a deft sample looped from Chaka Khan’s Fate. This was filtered, echoed and effected to perfection by Bangalter and Braxe. The second element is the distinctive vocals. Sung in English with a heavy French accent, what makes them special is the almost sneering self confident charm of Cohen’s vocal delivery. He sings that love ‘might’ bring us back together, but there seems to be no doubt in his voice. There are only six vocal lines. But they work in combination with the Chaka Khan sample. Stupidly simple. Stupidly good. Like all the best records. Why Because Music have chosen to reissue it now on vinyl is anyone’s guess. But the vinyl reissue is certainly welcome. More than twenty years on, Music Sounds Better With You has aged better than most of the other Disco cut-up records of that era. It is a modern French classic.   

BUY

[another-fantasy-boy]

Hatsune Miku, Kaito - Ohedo Julia-Night [Japanese style Dance Music] by Mitchie M This is a party tune which is combined 1990's Techno and Japanese traditional music. Miku sings and KAITO raps like humans. Please enjoy!! Please watch the music video of this song!! ⇒ https://youtu.be/y3yyYYLyVzw ▼ Ohedo Julia-Night (English translation lyrics) Yo! Hatsune-Ya! One, Two, One Two Three Yo! Hey Mr., break it down now Gather around y’all, the bubble world Do the shopping spree, no buts, guys For limited time, party time With the konchiki beat, the Ōedo 1690’s Gonna party tonight, go! to the dancefloor Time is Genroku, the bubbly world Gonna spend the money like water Feeling high of upturn, raving in shiba-no-ura disco (kappore kappore) Partying all-night, ah, forgive us for partying with style Ōedo Julianight, the legendary dance site Queen of the night, the instinct goes bloom (choinasasa), scattered by sunrise (hey! chiruchirurum) Ōedo Julianight (DJ), T99 rocking the floor (Anastasia) Dance like in your dreams (come on) put the misery behind the sweat Leaving the VIP with all the ladies Towards the podium with all the desires Glossy and beautiful clothes, I am hyper disco queen like a diamond (kappore kappore) A bit extreme but hey police, let us go with style (you are under arrest!) Ōedo Julianight, lamplight shines through the era Sparkling and shining beauty (choinasasa), fades away in the dark (tamaya!) Ōedo Julianight (DJ) TR-909 on the drums (not 808) Gonna shake the fans of feathers (oh yeah), getting help from heavenly wind Oedo! Here we go! Special show in the witching hour Basho Matsuo on the guest Walking the narrow road to the deep First class haiku poet It’s just a gossip he is ninja 5-7-5 one haiku right now! Bodycon girls on the summer lawn, all in the dream Ōedo Julianight, the legendary dance site Queen of the night, the instinct goes bloom, scattered by sunrise (hey welcome! ) Ōedo Julianight (DJ), T99 rocking the floor (Anastasia) Dance like in your dreams (come on) put the misery behind the sweat Our apologies. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ◆ Instrumental MP3 download ⇒ ◆Karaoke MP3 download ⇒

[punk-in-docs]

Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth, Chapter 10

TITLE: Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth. 
CHAPTER NO: Chapter Ten SYNOPSIS: Tom Hiddleston AU Love story - Set in the Victorian Era... Circa 1858 to be precise... AUTHOR:@punk-in-docs 
AO3 LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4108306?view_full_work=true ~ Elizabeth’s stomach, heart, spleen, liver, kidney’s, brain, and every other vital organ she possessed, was positively fluttering with nerves. The kind of nerves that make your body feel as if you are constantly twisting and moving, like a herd of bees swarming around a hive. Her body felt rootless, and itinerant. She fiddled nervously with her golden silken gloves at the tips of her fingers. Baring her teeth down on the corner of her lip as she looked into the stuffy overcrowded ballroom ahead of her. It was just Felicity and Mrs Sharpe at her side tonight, Sir Richard had declined most vigorously when it was enquired into his attending the ball. Seeing as he would end up stuffed into a corner with the Mama’s and the Matrons, he insisted that he would stay at home in his study and watch paint dry, for that was marginally more interesting than a night of discussing sordid gossip and the lace trim on gowns. Elizabeth had smiled as he offered the excuse to them all as he waved them off out of the door. Usually, Libby would have wished she could have stayed at home with him. If she had not a date with a handsome Duke to keep on Lady Hartwright’s dancefloor. And a kiss to claim from him in the Hartwright's famed gardens. She had not forgotten that sordid promise, either. Again, as was becoming routine with this week, she was hurried into a long scorching bath, scented liberally until she reeked of her staple honey and lillies fragrance, before being corseted into yet another garment. Although, for the sake of the humid air in the ballroom, that seemed thick enough to touch, she was glad that her gown was draped and flowing, and that it bared her shoulders and neck, and a large portion of her shoulderblades. To make matters worse upon this evening, it would not help being imprisoned in a body crushing silk dress which would be soaked through by nights end due to all the dancing and the general sticky heat the room provided. Elizabeth pressed a tentative hand to the corner of her golden jewelled mask, and then flat to her chest, of which was bared modestly by the draped fabric of her orange silk gown. She could feel her heart beating like a caged animal trapped in her rib cage. Yearning to be set free... Her dress was secured on one shoulder like a toga with a golden buckle holding the drapes of the fabric neatly in place on her creamy pale shoulder. Her gown had taken next to no time to slide on, yet her hair had oddly been the most time consuming trait to her appearance this evening. Nessie had her work cut out as she was titled with the job of twisting the thick red tresses back away from Elizabeths face, leaving it unbound so the long curled length of it nearly reached to her elbows down her back, like an auburn waterfall of lavender scented curls. Pinned back from her ears so it brushed against the skin at the top of her upper back. Her golden mask secured and tied in place over her curled red hair. Araminta had insisted upon the use of golden eye paint to cover her eyelids, and for Libby to darken her brows and rouge her cheeks, so under her mask, her eyes glowed bright blue from the candlelight, and the light caught urgently the shimmering flecks of gold above her lids. Overall, Araminta asserted she looked enchanting. And Libby had smiled. It wouldn’t do her well to know that after she had swept out of the house in her velvet blue cloak, and into the awaiting carriage, Mrs Sharpe then turned to Felicity and remarked with a wry grin: “One Sir Thomas sees all of her bared skin, I daresay the poor gent will perish on the spot.” She winked. Her pale powdered face and hair creasing into a smile underneath her Marie Antoinette mask and appallingly french styled make up. Her lips heart shaped with pink colour, and the beauty spot near her eye twitching as her wrinkled crows feet made it move due to her creasing leer. “Second Ward, remember, Mrs Sharpe…” Felicity growled. Twiddling her staff about in one hand, and her stuffed sheep toy bundled under her other arm. Her brown hair had been secured into tight ringlets, and Mrs Sharpe had helped make the frilly bonnet that sat atop her head. Making her look all the more like Little Bo Peep. After all, that was the only use she served, with a Shepherd’s crook in one hand, and her floppy discloured sheep in the other. But, Araminta vowed that her second youngest looked abominably cute, and, then with a roll of Felicity’s russet eyes - and after Araminata managed to manouevre her wide circa 1700’s hips out of the front door, with Hawkins assistance of prying the lady out with a shoehorn after she got stuck in the doorframe due to her cumbersome hips - they were finally on their way. Now, The Farrow Ladies three, elegantly sauntered slowly into the busy twirl of dancing and chatter that filled the heat packed ballroom. It was positively bursting with colour and magnificent other characters. Already Elizabeth had seen A Cleopatra swan by, a Mediaval Knight, sword, holy robes, helmet and all pass her by. A Mermaid, a Leprechaun had come and gone, two Musketeers, and one Parsnip, of all things.... Clearly there was much variation and imagination in abundance to society this year. They wandered closer to the edge of the dancefloor, seeing more various costumes and colour encircle them as couples swirled about in each other’s arms. One thing that Elizabeth had mentioned she adored, was that the demi masks that covered men and womens eyes alike forced her to really examine who they were. Adding a wonderful sense of ambiguity to the costumes. Of course, there would be no mistaking her for another girl, such pale colouring and fiery coloured curls could be mistaken for none other than 'that pale beautiful flame haired eldest Farrow girl' No.There was to be no hiding in plain sight for her in any ballroom anytime soon. Elizabeth heard Araminta apologise, yet again, as her vastly expansive hips clipped another person as she moved, sending them sailing to the floor. Already two footmen had been swept clean off their feet by the hoops concealed under her powder pink revolutionary style skirts, trimmed with lace and bustling over her corseted body shape. Her hair had also been piled atop her head, one ringlet hanging down at her nape, her usually mousy brown greying hair dusted a silvery white to coincide with her costume. She had dainty buckled shoes on her feet, and the palest tone that Nessie could muster using a palette of facial paints. Which made her lips and rouged cheeks stand out all the more. The choker and diamonds about the elder woman’s neck glittered with fat drops of light and wealth about her. And Elizabeth wagered Araminta would indeed, be up for the guillotine at the end of the evening, if she sent just one more poor soul crashing to the floor as a consequence of her unsafe hips. She didn’t even need to look to her left as she heard the definitve sound of a crumpling body thumping to the floor with an “AAHHACCCKK!” and a polite little whisper from her stepmother of “Oh, I’m so sorry, how terribly clumsy of me!” following not long thereafter to know it had happened - yet again. Felicity’s costume however, was causing no trouble. She wore a petticoated duck egg blue ensemble, with her laced frilly bonnet and lacy white gloves to match, aswell as a cornflower blue bonnet on her ringlety haired head. Her legs clad in white stockings and with dainty little pink ballet shoes on her feet to make her appear all the more like Mary with her Little Lamb. Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure what her costume was, Bo Peep, or Mary, She could not be sure. But she had a sherpherds crook and a rather saggy discoloured, yet fat, toy sheep stuffed under one of her arms. So, by process of elimination and recognition that led many to assume that she was a sheep herderess of some kind. Elizabeth herself had opted for a more, traditional route. Her costume had been based on one of her favourite Pre-Raphaelite Paintings. ‘Flaming June’ by Frederick Leighton. A stunning piece of artwork which she had spent more than a couple of hours admiring at the National Gallery. That was the reason she had draped her body in a modestly revealing grecian style tangerine silk dress, and left her hair unbound, much of it to match the resting figure in the painting. Mrs Sharpe had not been initially keen on the colour of the silk, fearing it would wash her out, but they had agonised over choices at Madam Francois’s until they found a pleasing shade to make her hair brighter, and her skin and eyes aglow with graceful finesse. She felt it was no scandal that a great portion of her upper hald had been left bare by her dress. In fact, she saw many costume about the room that were of a similar design to her own in terms of baring skin. So in that respect, she was not alone. And no one could accuse her of displaying foul dress at a costume party. Not when there were women swanning around in far less than her. Using the costume invitation as a sordid advantageous excuse to flaunt their figures. Libby felt her costume was plain, elegant and classic. Three things of which she rather liked. She’d leave frippery and fuss to that of the younger debuatantes. Simplicity, she noted, and as far as she was concerned, was the key to all elegance. She watched as Araminata and Felicity curtseyed to Lady Hartwright, thanking her for the invitation. The lady herself dressed in a similar dress to that of Mrs Sharpes own, wide hipped and french style costume. Except their hostesses was a royal blue, and she held a mask on a pole to her face. She expressed her delight at seeing her friends attend, making polite chatter with Felicity and Mrs Sharpe. But Elizabeth’s mind was elsewhere, and consequently, her feet started to move her away from the crowds, to a somewhat less heated and cool corner of the ballroom. It was no hardship for her to drift away from her Sister and her Stepmother. The crowds of costumes easily swallowed her up into a sea of riotous colour. If they enquired as to her dissapearence, she could simply lay – false – claim to the fact that she had gotten seperated from them both to quell any suspicion or anger on her leaving. Her feet were in accordance with her brain and her heart, Which both had ulterior motives for steering her somewhere without much noise or company... She bit her lip as she craned her neck, scanning over the people who swarmed about the room. Her eyes trained to look for a pair of ice chip coloured blue eyes hiding under the shade of a darkened mask, perhaps? Or even the ink black shade of his medium length hair, swept back from his regally divine face that belonged in reputable and polished Art Gallerys, captured in some pedestal of appreciation. Either sculpture or oils. And Elizabeth swore now, If she had been substantially more up to the task of possessing great skill at sculpting or painting with oils, and she knew she could do his beauty justice, then she’d carve or paint the damn thing herself. Because he deserved no such less praises to his handsomeness. So caught up was she in her own reverie to Sir Thomas’s beauty, she did not see the grinning figure, clad in mediaval prince like garb, move out of the fringes of the shadowy ballroom just behind her. Having just finished engaging Miss Lucinda Edgerton, a very demure wallflower, into a dance just to make the girl smile. His mask jumped a centimetre or two up his face as he smiled widely when he caught sight of the woman ahead of him, looking pleadingly across the crowds. Searching – fruitlessly. The sight of her took away all his breath, and damn near all his sense. All he was left with was the inane desire to continue in her direction… She looked like a goddess who had the audacity to grace the mortals here tonight with her divine presence. The silken gown she wore, he wanted to feel under his hands. To test the weight of her remarkable curves under the cloak of the shimmering orange silk which he knew would make her twice as alluring to the touch. Her arms were mostly covered with golden hued satin gloves. But he couldn’t deny that seeing the small patch of her shoulder in nothing but bare skin was shamefully to erotic to be true. Her face, he decided, looked alarmingly pretty with the golden mask enhancing her eyes and setting off her sapphire irises and pale skin. He watched as her little tongue darted out to moisten her lips, before dragging her lower lip between her teeth. He really couldn’t get enough of that sight... But what he hadn’t expected was for the sight of her unbound red hair, and the pale slices of her shoulderblades under her creamy skin to leave him feeling quite so hot and giddy. He wanted to touch her, everywhere, leave no spot of her skin feeling unloved or worshipped. He wanted to kiss her with such ferocity and flame that she begged him to claim her. Because then, he would. He would drag her off to some quiet corner or deserted room, throw her dress above her hips, kiss her senseless, again, and own her. In all the lustful ways in which a man could own a woman. He watched her still as she bobbed and craned her neck looking for him among the throngs of people dancing and conversing. But his smile grew wolfishly wide as he pressed his wide soft hand to the side of her hip, able to feel the scorching heat of her soft skin through the fabric. His fingers molding into her fleshy hip. She gasped and jumped back into his touch. Twisting with a surprised smile to see his blue eyes glowering at her lusftully under the shady brim of his gold and black mask as he grinned like the big bad wolf at her, despite the fact he was dressed as the heroic prince. “Looking for someone in particular my lady?” He leered. ~ So startled was she by his sudden materialisation at her side, that she turned with a gasp, pleasurable shock tingling through her every pore. She became very aware that her cheeks flushed red, but whether that was due to embarrassment at the surprise, or the way his breath rolled so tantalizingly across her ear, she could not decide. “Sir Thomas.” She exhaled, through one of her finest smiles. The kind of smile that stupid young men adored to slobber over the sight of, and the kind that was mentioned, so tirelessly, in all its imbalanced charm and glory, in near every gossip paper of discernable repute in London. But, to him. That smile triggered the deepest of urges to wed her, and continue making her smile that way for the rest of his devoted life to her. It was mad, he knew, but he wanted to keep her smile under lock and key, in secret, so no other but he could admire it. A silly notion perhaps, but his mind cared not one jot about silly protectiveness when it came to her. She could not deny, she beheld - with thoughts that no unmarried maiden of four and twenty should be inclined to – that he looked undoubtedly fine this evening. Even under the dark shadowed brim of his mask, his eyes still managed to twinkle and burn vividly at her like stars in the heavens. His attire helped add to his ever prevailing character of prince like charm. His costume would have looked more in place in the previous century, he had a moss green coat which was swirled with golden leaves and vines stitched to the front of his coat. Under which, he had on a light blue waistcoat, teemed most fetchingly with a darker blue cravat, knotted about his pale neck in an unconventional style. She scanned downwards to see he had slim breeches on his legs, and tall tan leathered boots up his calves. He even had been so good as to his concern for his costumes welfare, that he had a sword strapped to his side. Whether it was real or not, she could not discern. She had no experience with swords. Archery, yes, she was proficient at that. Painting and Drawing, she excelled in, the Pianoforte even, but the art of the sword was not in her repertoire. He had drawn closer to her now, no further than was deemed inappropriate, but close enough so she could see the candlelight dance in his eyes, and make his skin look incredible, were she allowed to touch it, she daren't think how fine his silken skinned jaw would feel traced below her fingers. She wanted nothing more than to damn this propriety, and etiquette, to rip of these infernal gloves and just be herself. Not have to stand straight backed, with the prefect degree of elegance, trying to attempt looking graceful and demure. She wanted to relax. Alas, this Victorian manner would not allow her. Nor would the overstuffed fringes of Lady Hartwright’s packed fit to burst ballroom, either. Judging by the heat and volume of the place… “You look very beautiful, Elizabeth. Words cannot do you justice..” Sir Thomas afforded her the compliment, relaying it as he took her hand and placed a kiss upon the back of the glove. She knew it was a standard compliment that had been paid to her many times by men, But only when he said it in such a way did she truly believe it. He spoke with such subtle intensity that she dare not refuse it’s severity for even a second. His eyes grew warm at her, scorching her belly from the inside out. And the way he smiled made her want to frame it, admire it. For all the years life had left to give her. “Thank you, Sir Thomas. You look very dashing, dare I say, you take the masquerade invitation with vigour indeed.” She beamed back at him as he released her hand, she let her arm float gently back down to her orange chiffon clad side. “May I ask, your sword, it is real?” She asked with a touch of humour. The mirth in her eyes and smile made him realise that he didn’t just love her, he adored her. She wouldn’t just be a wife, to him. She would be a best friend. Able to laugh at unfunny things which they would find rip roaringly hilarious. He chuckled, his hand brushing down to the aforementioned weapon. “Quite real, Miss Farrow. Rest assured.” He offered. “I daresay, you won’t find much chance to use it here in Belgravia, in a ballroom filled to the rafters with such, placid, characters…” She said, the both of them watching in subdued mirth and alarm as an Octopus, all eight limbs accounted for, swaddled by them. Suckers and all on the turquoise blue tentacles. Elizabeth gave the girl under the hideous costume a pitiable kind smile. It was the Pennington’s girl under it, she deduced. Poor Primrose Pennington. Oft remarked by every mama to be ‘too frightfully pale for any colour, and too plump, buttery haired, and rose cheeked to ignore.’ Elizabeth felt a pang of sorrow for the girl. Watching miserably as she struggled along, attempting to keep her tentacles from tripping anyone. – goodness, what a sentence that was to utter… Thomas watched after the girl too. Poor thing, she already looked exerted from carting the damned silly thing about, feelers dragging on the floor like overly long skirts, hanging down from the bulbously shaped dome of a head that concealed her upper body, shoulders, head and all. He made sure to give her his kindest smile and try not to look too pitiful for her when she was turned his way, seeing that she caught it, and her cheeks flushed into a most fierce shade of pink. They both gave each other wry smiles after she tottered by, swallowed up into the crowds as easily as if someone was chucking the octopus back into the ocean where it belonged. “I suddenly feel very slighted as to the efforts of my own garment…” Elizabeth offered, placing a gloved hand to her partially bared chest. “All I can exclaim is thank goodness you are of an age, and a sufficiently stubborn tongue, to not allow Mrs Sharpe to dress you in such a manner…” He remarked. “Mrs Sharpe wouldn’t be that cruel.” Elizabeth wondered aloud, grimacing with a smile. Half praying that her hopes weren’t wrong. “I don’t think, anyway.” “Secretly now thankful you made it out of this house this evening sans four extra limbs?” Sir Thomas leaned close, asking her with a smile. She laughed. “A truer sentence has never been spoken.” She granted him. “Nor, I daresay, a more wildly inconceivable one..” She added. He laughed at that. “How does your Family fare, Elizabeth? I only pray for your sister that Mrs Sharpe doesn’t have her wandering about in some similar ridiculous garb..” He enquired kindly, like a true gentleman. “They fare perfectly fine, thank you sir, My Father cares very little for balls, I grant you. But Mrs Sharpe and Felicity are amongst this hectic crowd somewhere..” She craned her neck, seeing if she could spot either one of the two other Farrow ladies. “… Should I be talking to you without a chaperone present?” He wondered idly. Voice turning deep and desirous. Elizabeth turned back to him, wetting her lips before she answered. “Seeing as my chaperone left us unattended together for several minutes, alone, in the same room, I dare say she shan’t mind..” she spoke honestly. “Do you mind, Miss Farrow?” He dared ask. She beamed. “I care not one smidgeon for it.” She elucidated. Referring to the manner and rules that they should not have been ignoring as a single man, and a single lady. “That, I am too glad to hear.” He rasped, she became enchanted by the sight of his eyes under his dark black and gold mask. He loved how some of hers concealed her reddening cheeks. It was at this point that the crowd ahead of them seemed to bubble into activity like a witches cauldron. Many people parted, some pushing back to the fringes of the ballroom where they stood conversing. All in all, it simulated that the first dance was about to take place. “May I have this dance, Miss Farrow?” He asked, sweeping in front of her, and holding out his hand. Seeing that the room around them had fallen into a respectable hush. She swallowed, feeling hot and nervous. Her heart pounding a million times a minute, knowing that a few pairs of eyes were sticking to her, judging her, and she suddenly had an overwhelming sense of shyness settle in her gut. But she would not want to dismiss dancing with him for all she held dear in the world. She smiled, looking down to his outstretched hand as she took it. Sliding her silk covered hand into his grasp. He smiled as she did, walking slowly with her out into the dance floor that was scarcely inhabited as of yet. Only three other couples twirled about inside the large gathered circle of costumes. Elizabeth could see that Sophie Richworth glared at her, from her spot, stood still with her nasty gaggle of friends in the debutante’s corner. Making a most vicious scowl at her indeed. But Elizabeth, did not care. Sir Thomas could see she was nervous. He had dragged her into, undoubtedly, the centre of attention, in the middle of the deserted ballroom for the waltz. He could see more than a few hundred pairs of eyes were glued to them both. It didn’t bother him one bit. He was used to the attention. She. Evidently. Was not as such. But, as always. He didn't care. Especially not when he was looking at the magnificent creature in front of him. She looked downwards as he positioned himself, one hand at her waist, the other clinging to her hand, bracing it high for their dance. Hers went to his shoulder, clasping his hand back with equal keen-ness. Yet still she looked a touch pale, unnerved by all the people that were watching and dissecting them. “Elizabeth..” He whispered, seeing that she peered up at him from under her golden mask, like a shy, demure little creature emerging at last from it’s shell. She looked up to see his mystifyingly handsome face stare down at her lovingly, stretched above her looking powerful, looking like he would sell his heart to the devil to protect her. “Pretend they are not there. Pay them no heed. All that matters now, here, is you and I.” He offered her, gently. Voice still a whisper. She smiled lightly. Allowing him to lead as they started to dance. Looking deeply into each other eyes as they swayed about with one another to the 2/4 timed step beat. Both their bodies following the arc of the dance that he graciously swept her up in. And suddenly, Elizabeth found that she could do what he had asked. She could forget that everyone was there. Because she was in his arms. That was it. It was that simple fact. Watching him lead, twirling them about the room. Encased firmly in his wonderful arms. And she could suddenly not fathom a flying fig for all the Mama’s, girls, and gentlemen that were watching them so intently. She smiled, and for once, she let herself not care. ~ Minutes earlier ~ “Heavens? where did she slip away too, and so fast?” Mrs Sharpe exclaimed, turning around from thanking Lady Hartwright, to subsequently find that Libby, as her back had been turned, had taken the opportunity to slink away from her and Felicity. “She went that way, Mrs Sharpe..” Felicity nodded her head, inclining it in a north-westerly direction. Being jostled by the heavy activity of many people as they passed them by. Twice now her foot had been trodden on, she was only wearing thin silk slippers, after all. And both the women who had stepped on her had evidently not been light. She needed thicker shoes, and she was starting to get very agitated with her costume. Her bonnet strings kept on coming loose, sliding out from under her chin, meaning that her bonnet kept threatening to slide off her head. And, the cherry on top of the cake, was that she was bound to take someone's eyes out soon with her crook. Three gentlemen had been on the receiving end of the thing being dangerously swung about at eye level as Felicity was bumped from side to side in the packed crowds. Araminta followed her youngest's inclined head, but she saw remarkably little as a consequence. The trouble with masquerade balls, was that they required such flamboyant head dress and attire. Mrs Sharpe caught no sight of her eldest's red tresses, or orange dress. No, all she could see across the sea of people, were the backs of some unfamiliar heads, outlandishly wide hats furnished with feathers that drifted in the hot air. Mrs Sharpe harrumphed. “Damn and blast, the silly gel, wandering off ahead of us.” Araminta chided grumpily to no one in particular. Her hand reaching up to touch the back of her powdered white hair, ensuring it stayed in place. Felicity rolled her eyes. Again. She seemed to be doing that rather a lot this evening. And mostly at her stepmother too. “Mrs Sharpe, I don’t think she can be truly blamed. I’m having enough trouble standing by your side as it is..” Felicity pointed out, coming to her sister’s defence. And then, almost as if to prove her point, a young couple brushed past them. Jostling Felicity into stumbling on her own two feet at the unexpected contact, making her bonnet slide forwards over her eyes once again. She scowled at the disappearing people, who were just courteous enough to sweep an apology over their shoulders. Felicity was tempted to stick her tongue out at them. Or give their toes a damn good bashing assault with her crook. But as it was they had already scampered far away to the other side of the ballroom. And there was every chance that her rude gesture of tongue poking could be seen by entirely the wrong audience. “Oh, well. I shan’t exert my nerves to the hassle of wondering where she is, a second longer…” She dismissed, sniffing daintily. Holding her chin aloft in the air, pointing her nose up, and looking alarmingly, Felicity thought, like the autocratic wealthy French ruler that she was dressed as. The youngest Miss Farrow half expected a cry any minute now, of ‘Let them eat cake…’ to descend from her stepmother’s mouth. “Good for you, Mrs Sharpe.” Felicity smiled through a laugh, appeasing her stepmother’s frolicsome wishes. She shook her head, looking about the crowds of the ballroom ahead of her, own attention rapidly lost in the sea of costumes ahead. And, good lord, was that an octopus she could see? Yes it was. It was an octopus. And it was being morosely dragged around with that plump Pennington girl under it. Whom, probably had no choice but having had the costume forced upon her by some strict Mama. Felicity suddenly felt not so foolish in her ridiculous get up. Even if she did have a sheep toy lolloped at her feet like some unfortunate sleeping pet, and she looked about three years of age in her silly over-frilled petticoat and bonnet. “Oh, is that Elizabeth?” Mrs Sharpe suddenly careened, lurching forwards like an animal set to pounce. Having seen a flash of a tangerine costume nestled amongst the cumbersome crowds. But as she reeled forwards, Felicity feared she had quite forgotten where she was, and how hefty her oversized hips were, as two unfortunate souls who stood beside them with refreshments of small pitchers of lemonade, were knocked ungraciously to the floors as a result of Mrs Sharpe’s costume. She stepped over the crumpled people with a apologetic smile, and a small giggled mumble of ‘Oh, I am so terribly sorry, so clumsy of me, I’m usually so much more agile, you know..’ before she crossed to stand behind her youngest. Felicity strained on her tiptoes, peering to try and see if it was her sister. “No. That’s Prudence Wyndam. She came as a Carrot.” Felicity added with a dry humoured smile. The girls sunset coloured costume was of a similar hue to Elizabeth’s. The Wyndam girl in question waddled about the dance floor, restricted by the close binding of her orange clad legs to form the reverse steepled shape of the vegetable, and she even had a green hat with prominent tassels on her head to complete the ‘carrot – top 'ensemble. “Good Grief..” Mrs Sharpe exclaimed in extreme perplexity, rolling her eyes, second to Lady Bashford dressing her two twin daughter’s as a pantomime horse – which had trod on her toes earlier, and sent one ill-fated gentleman sailing headfirst into the middle of the lemonade punch bowl table - Lady Wyndam deciding that a ‘Carrot’ was adequate costume for her daughter, came close to stealing the biscuit of whom was the worst willed London Mama in attendance here tonight. It was then that the band played the first few opening notes up from the balcony to signal that the waltz was about to take place. The crowd peeled back over the room. It was famously known that the waltz, the first dance, was one of the more romantic ones to which a girl should be paired to a very amiable suitor, for the first dance set the tone for the rest of a debutantes evening. No gentleman who knew what he was about, stepped out to waltz with a young lady if he didn’t intend to marry her. As a consequence of this, the wallflower girls took up their positions on the outskirts of the ballroom, the popular and nastier girls crowded about to mock those who would not dance. And a few interested Mama’s and even more silly gentleman formed the circle of people who were ringed about those who expressed their desire to dance with a partner openly for the first. Felicity endeavoured her body onto tip toes again, to see that the recently wedded Duke and Duchess of Whitmore took to the floor, looking as in love, and love sick as if they were ever the only two fools with hearts for one another. The outlandishly dark haired, but boring but gentle Sir Gideon Chittenden stood up with one Miss Flora Evangeline Gooding. A slight girl, a little shy and colourless, perhaps, but whom had rather a lovely voice. They had declared to be quite in love, and courting for several months now. And Felicity’s mouth just about hung to the ballroom floor when she saw who the third couple was… “Mama!” Felicity exclaimed in the harshest of unquiet and hissing whispers. Mrs Sharpe turned to look immediately, because when Felicity extended the title, that Araminta could never bare out of respect for Verina Farrow, then she knew nothing than to go directly to her youngest’s outburst. “What is it, my dove?” Araminta asked, whispering back in a susurrate tone over the music, looking down seeing if there were any trodden toes or broken bones to her to contend with. She sounded most shocked... “Elizabeth’s dancing. With the Duke of Chatsworth..” Felicity gaped. Mrs Sharpe moved with remarkable speed for a woman of her age, size, and thoroughly inconvenient hips. Coming behind Felicity to see that indeed, she was telling no tall tale. For there, right in front of their eyes, not ten metres away, stood the tall and dashing Sir Thomas Kenworthy, in all his princely attire, leading the beautiful sight of her eldest flame haired daughter out onto the dance floor, whispering something soft to her as he guided them into position to dance. Mrs Sharpe watched in thorough enrapturement as she could see Libby’s blue eyes glaze with love for the man who stood in front of her, and her smile was so wide and loving that a blind man would have felt it’s warmth, and know the meaning behind it was undoubtedly as such. Because as they twirled and danced in one another arms, Araminta could see that the Duke looked the same. Which led everyone in the ballroom to the same thought… They were in love. Elizabeth Farrow, and Sir Thomas Kenworthy were wholeheartedly, absolutely, unquestionably in love. Quite a sight to behold, they were, too. The handsomest couple in the room, if Mrs Sharpe could have her final say on the matter. They looked lovesick, and happy. Like they should never be parted from one another’s arms. However, their enraptured state did not go unnoticed by everyone.... Lady Hartwright’s house was large one, built with alcoves and stunning high ceilings. And looking down, next to the musician’s balcony, was a viewing gallery where a few people were mingling, chatting and watching those who danced far down below them. Amongst this crowd, was one Sir Marcus Burke. Whom, having seen the couple take the floor looking sickeningly happy with their position in one another’s hold, caused him to imbibe another sharp mouthful of whiskey straight from the flask he had brought with him. Damn society gatherings only had piddly lemonade. And as he took a swig, he glared down at the both of them, the start of a sickening smile starting to cross his lips as he felt drunken-ness overtake him. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth, disturbing his mask. “Enjoy it while you can, Miss Farrow…” He hissed nastily to no one else but himself. Raising his flask in a silent toast to god or the devil before he took another long swig, chuckling. ~ “You are a divine dancer Elizabeth..” Sir Thomas granted her, as they swirled about on the floor one last time, hearing as the last few notes faded into silence. And people gathered about them offered a round of applause to the enamoured couples, now, as the gavotte started, more people fussed to try and invade the dance floor now. She curtseyed, smiling, and he bowed. Mirroring her grin. When they stood once more, he took her arm. “May I accompany you in the hopes of getting some air? Miss?” He asked, eyes burning with something playful lingering beneath his mask, and simmering away in his smile. “That would be most kind. It is quite overcrowded in here..” She offered, back. The both of them fighting to worm their way throughout the packed crowds. The heat so evident, it was all you could do to ignore it. Elizabeth felt flushed and parched. However, their path was suddenly halted by a most unwelcome figure. Three of them to be exact... Libby fought the all body revulsion that shuddered through her at the sight of her most favourite horrible tormenter stood in front of her. With both her just as horrible friends by her side. Sophie Richworth. Sir Thomas came to a halt behind Libby, watching as she sighed, and her face under the golden mask took on one of extreme dislike and irascibility. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he just hazarded a very correct guess, judging by her body language, and the unpleasant glint in the girls green eyes in front of them, that they were not friends. That they were probably the vile girls whom she suffered mocking at the hands of, when she had been a wallflower. That thought made him seething mad. Not that he showed anything behind standing tall behind her, stance impassive, and not awarding them anything but a stony glare. Sophie Richworth wasn’t an unpleasant looking girl. That’s what made it worse. Elizabeth often supposed if she had fat cheeks, boils, and facial warts – with hair - then maybe she could pity the girl who was so nasty to her. But as it was, she was severely pretty in a harsh kind of way. No hint of hairy warts or boils at all. She was boil free. Unfortunately. She had green eyes that looked like two stagnant pools of water, her hair was thick and dark. Like a jet black curtain of silk. It was pulled into an elegant chignon on her head, yet her beauty is a little too severe, Libby thought, she looked sharp and pointed. Especially with the way her eyes were set in a slightly slanted way, and every facial feature was upturned and petite. She was slender too, with no hips, and barely a bust to speak of, and had quite no concern for moral decency, judging by the way she wore a very low cut gown, and was subsequently trying to angle herself for the Duke to get a better look at her. She sneered however, right at Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth.” She greeted blandly. As if this was going to be a pleasant encounter. She looked about as pleasant as a rattlesnake with a brand new button on its tail. “Miss Richworth.” Libby spoke back, equally as insipid. Thomas found her voice was nasally and rather grating upon ones auditory senses. Much alike her hideous character... he wagered. “I understand your male friend is the Duke of Chatsworth. I can’t see for heavens why he danced with you, He’s far too handsome to keep your company..” Sophie grinned, nastily, the two girls flanking her sides, to her left Miss Winnifred Darknoll, and to her right, one Miss Cynthia Sterling. Both brunette, and as ghastly attired as their pack leader. All of whom now giggled spitefully at her sneering. “No engagement ring on your finger I see, still wearing down Mr Carlton are we?” Elizabeth asked patronisingly. Thomas delighted that this made the toxic Miss Richworth's smile, fade Rather quickly. “Oh well. I’m sure a few more instances of stalking, and following him around London will soon grant you title as his wife. Don’t you worry. I have it on good authority that men love a stupid wife.” She offered, a small smile on her lips. Killing her enemy with point-blank kindness. Her eyes tipped back under her mask to meet his. Causing him to recall their conversing the first night they met at her jape to Sophie. Oh, help him, he loved this woman like mad. He couldn’t fight the smile that crossed his lips. And Sophie saw this. She then had the audacity to sweep Elizabeth aside very obviously, pushing her so she stumbled, and then she came up right up close to him. He stared immovably down at the repugnant girl who drew closer, far closer than was deemed appropriate. “How tall are you? You must be atleast over six foot…” She flirted, trying to look up at him prettily in a charming manner. Her voice attempting seduction. It rather made his stomach coil in revulsion, instead. “Six foot four.” He bit off. She smiled, wider. He hated the sight of it. She had an ugly manner, an ugly voice, and an even uglier soul. He didn’t like her one bit. “That’s a most lovely height…” She smiled, biting down her lip. “You really think so?” He asked huskily. “I do…” She sneered back. His eyes flickered to the side to find Libby looking confused, and a little hurt. And that would not do… “If I may…” He said aloud. Sophie’s blood boiled as he then reached off to the side and tugged, twirling Elizabeth into his arms. Angling her right up close to his chest, causing her to gasp as he wrapped a hand about her lower back and tucked her into his chest. Not sparing an inch of space between their bodies. Her hands sprawled out to go to his torso, she hadn’t expected him to do such a wicked thing. But, she was very glad he had done… They were nearly pressed nose to nose now… Goodness, he was an intoxicating creature from up close. And he had only touched or handled her like this in her dreams. She rather felt as if her heart was singing the aria from The Magic Flute, somersaulting wildly as it tripped past a high C. “What do you think, Elizabeth, is six foot four still, a most lovely height, now?” He asked, mocking Sophie in a way gentleman just didn’t do. Reaching over, and tucking a stray curl of hair back from Libby’s cheek, seeing her cheeks flush and he mouth gape in a most stunning manner. His eyes were burning at her with the aura of ‘play-along-with-this’ “Oh, well. I suppose it does for dances..” She sighed with a beam. “And shelves. I am most adept at getting things down of high shelves when the occasion calls for it…” He smiled down to her. “How very advantageous, I often find myself stuck in respects to that dilemma.” She smiled back, sliding a hand up to his shoulder. The crowds were so dense, no one was at risk of seeing their sordid position. Sophie Richworth looked ready to murder them. Both. In cold blood. “Almost as if were made for each other, wouldn’t you say?” He asked. Grinning across to Sophie before his eyes found Elizabeth once more. “I would dare declare such a truth, yes.” Libby beamed. “What do you think of it, Miss Richworth? Anything malicious to wish upon such a happy couple?” She went to speak, before more words from him cut her off. Grinding her to a halt. He was a Duke, his rank meant that his words took precedence over hers. “… Or have we finally succeeded in making you keep your poisonous opinions to yourself? Dare I risk sounding like a mother hen, here, but unless you have something to say, perhaps it is then best to not open that vulgar mouth of yours, and say nothing at all. Do me a favour, and in all future regard to this, lovely goddess of a woman, it would do you well to exercise the metaphor, silent as the grave.” He suggested. No. He told her. Sophie’s teeth ground together, before she flounced off into the crowds. Friends following in her wake, as they all sulkily stomped away. Elizabeth and Thomas smiled to one another, before their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The both of them remembering where they were. He held her hand as she straightened herself, smoothing a gloved hand down her skirts and righting herself. “That was a terribly nice thing you just did…” She assured him. “Well. What can I offer in my defence? I am a terribly nice man. And you, a terribly lovely lady.” He adored watching her flush, Because she did that right then, due to his words. They worked their way once again through the crowds, coming to the large terrace off the side of the ballroom, a large door was open, allowing the dark cool night to spill in. The anticipation of cooling down, and being alone with the man, was making Elizabeth tingle in a way she knew she ought not. “..Besides. You might rescind your statement of my terrible loveliness, it may turn to one of horrified shock at my scandalous nature, when I express my most ardent wish to get you alone in those garden’s…” He explained in a hot whisper. She bit her lip, smiling shyly, head dipping low as she walked, thankful at last to come through the door, him sliding out not long after her. Most of the peoples attention taken by the gavotte going on in the room. No one noticed the two slip silently away into the night. She sighed in audible pleasure as the cool breeze of the dark London evening washed over her. Kissing it’s cool way up the back of her neck, fluttering across her arms and shoulders. It tugged on her dress, whipping it about her ankles as she closed her eyes, thankful to be away from the heat of the ballroom. Sir Thomas watched her, he also unable to deny how lovely it was to escape the clutches of that humid room. And also to get away from the many pairs of eyes that would be dissecting and measuring their conduct all evening. And because she looked so enchanting cloaked in moonlight. It shone bright over the skyline of London, ahead of them. Bouncing off Lady’s Hartwright’s well manicured gardens. It slithering clutches came off every privet hedge, every bush or tree. Sparkled off every bright flower, shimmied in droplets up from every blade of grass. And illuminated the large marble fountain which trickled water, the only thing they could hear as they drew father and father away from the music coming from the grand house. Deeper and further into the midnight blue, cool beauty of the dark deserted garden. The moon also, seemed to make her beauty twice as great. Her skin would make statues of Greek Goddess’s howl in envy. It looked peachy soft, and supple. And the way the light refracted in the coils of her lovely red hair, why, it made him want to summon the nearest poet to take a stab at writing down how wonderful she looked in their own artistic language, so he could purr the words to her like vows, softly for all of eternity. And if he fell in love with her skin, then he was ready to elope with her eyes, they shone in prettiness like two priceless sapphires encased in some museum somewhere. She turned back from looking out across the garden’s, to see he was smiling softly at her. “You’re the most beautiful woman in all of the world.” He smiled, crossing slowly to her, standing very close – which meant he had to look down – and he took the side of her smooth face into his warm hand as he did. “Is that not a touch melodramatic? I’m sure there are far more stunning women out there in the world aside from me..” She smiled, unable to be as biased as he was. He adored that about her. “It may be, But I don’t care one bit. You see, I wouldn’t take notice if even a hundred of the worlds most beautiful women threw themselves at my feet. I don’t want to marry any of them.” He smiled, holding her close, in his arms. She felt so right, too. She felt like she belonged there. “You want to marry me?” She smiled. He is fairly certain she is asking him, but it partially sounds like she was testing the sentence out aloud, rather than to the inside of her own head. “Very badly…” He grinned. Because he did. His body and soul pined for her own. He was able to ignore the clamouring's of his soul as far as possible. But his body was both harder to resist, and to hide from. After his sordid mind conjured up the image of them in his bed together, the night after he had met her, almost three times he had occasion to call Perkin’s for a cold bath to dampen his raging spirits. His body was starting to become restless for her, and he tried in vain not to let this show too much before they were wed. But, oh. How Miss Elizabeth would feel the full raging force of it, once they were. He’d never, in all his life, forget the last time he had asked, just three days ago, and Perkin’s had raised one regal brow, face otherwise impassive and asked “A bracing dip, is it sir?” As Perkins had served Benedict for over 20 years. His station and duration meant he could say such things safely at his rank. To which Thomas had then ground his teeth and necked more whiskey from his glass. And - damn the bloody lout - Benedict had snorted into a long bout of hooting, guffawing laughter at him, because of it “I suppose I can’t deny I’ve indulged in that fantasy myself, ever since having met you at Dinner that night…” She confessed, looking up at him like he was the single most glorious thing in the world. And that was because, to her, he was. “Elizabeth Violet Kenworthy, Duchess of Chatsworth… It does have a pretty ring to it, does it not?” He asked, grinning at her like a fox. She smiled. It did sound wonderful… One day she hoped that bearing his surname wouldn’t feel like it did tonight. Like she was just slipping into it once, like she was putting on a costume. She looked forwards to a time when she could wear it, day in, and day out. Proudly as his wife. “It sounds perfect.” She grinned. He couldn’t savour her smile, unfortunately, because he then slid himself forwards, crushing her to his chest as he kissed her with such savagery it made her lungs burst, and her heart feel like it had taken up residence three continents away. And then he moaned. He couldn’t help it. She was such a wildly sensual, supple and pliant creature. And he was capable of such lust, it unnerved him. It had been bottled up and building inside of him from the moment they had exchanged names nine days ago. Granted, it didn’t sound like such a proficient enough stretch of time to gather such carnal desires, yet, it was. He wanted her, with him, in whatever bed and locked room was nearest. He wanted to be underneath her, beside her, on top of her. all over her. He wanted her skin, and cause her breath taking smile to morph into a gasping cry of his name as he took her apart. Drowning them both in such pleasure, they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves, ensuring both their needs were sated before he expended all of his lust on her still quivering form, until she begged him to take her. She gasped, his lips grew hungrier, and his need swelled to an unsafe degree for her. Her lower back was pressed sharply into the concrete banister behind them, that topped the stairs leading down to the gardens below. Her arms came up to rest on his shoulders, as his lips stopped twisting in sinful ways against her own, and instead pecked along her neck with soft smacks of his mouth hitting her skin over and over. Smelling deep the scent of her, getting the taste of her sweet lavender skin on his tongue. “You know, we’d have to share a bed, every night, if we were man and wife..” He moaned lowly into her ear, she could feel the side of his mask clip her skin as he spoke softly, his voice sounded like a honeyed rasp of a dream. She curved so her back arched, and all of her curves pressed lengthways into him, her stiffened as he felt her breasts push into him, aswell as the fleshy globes of her thighs. It made him growl onto her neck. And It made him so very hard. “.. Oh, my. Elizabeth. You have no idea what I’d do to you in that bed. In our marital bed. I’d take all night showing you how ardently I appreciate your wonderful body. I’d squeeze you, kiss you, hold you and make love to you for hours on end. I’d give every ounce of pleasure anyway I could…” He growled, his tongue doing something naughty to his words to make them sound like bliss, and his lips doing something equally as bad to the spot below her ear that made her startle into a gasp of desire. “You’d want for nothing, If I took you as my wife. I’d make love to you all night, and be there when you woke in the morning. I want to make you mine. Make you laugh, make you smile, but most importantly I would always try to make you happy. I want every inch of you, in every way a man can want a woman. You’re my necessity, my darling. I need you.” He gushed against her ear, his hands growing all the more restless as they slid down, cupping and squeezing her perfectly delightful ass under his hands. Pushing her body up into him as he grabbed at her. His need growing more and more exigent by the moment… “Thomas…” She moaned, finally understanding that the heat unfurling low in her body was all of her desire for this man, she wanted him right back, which was something she should have never wanted. But she couldn’t help it. He growled at her desirous voice gasping his name at his attentions. The both of them entwined passionately together, swivelled round like two startled animals being preyed on as they heard more voices drift out from beyond the wide open French doors. Drifting out to them as they kissed ardently on the terrace. Elizabeth’s eyes shot wide, both their reputes would be tarnished forever should they be found in a state of slight ruination in a darkened garden. The voices became louder, which meant the figures were seconds away from being out of doors and spotting them both. “Quickly. Come this way.” Thomas grinned, whispering, his smile the most perfectly wicked gleaming spectacle she’d ever had to good grace to witness. His eyes looking like he was plotting something in the deep ice chip depths. He pulled her eagerly along with him. His hand slung about the back of her waist as he tugged her small frame sharply down the steps alongside him. She couldn’t put aside the fact that his hand resting on her lower back, felt quite lovely. “Thomas?” She laughed, asking him where he was rushing them both too. Clattering down the steps after him. He turned when they reached the bottom, his boots and her dainty slippers crunching as they sprinted across the gravelled paths. Coming to rest in the small alcove under the stairs, pausing by the marble bench that was safely tucked into the little nook that was hidden away, right out of plain sight. Illuminated by the moon’s light alone... “Surely someone will notice our absence? The crowds are not that thick, you know. And Mrs Sharpe will be circling for me like a hawk and, mnfnm- “ She was silenced as he slunk close to her again, he pressed her back to the concrete curve of the niche, her back hit the cool brick, jumping at the cool temperature on her bare shoulders, but moaning as his muscled thigh parted her legs, bracing her to him like a vice. Crushing her shorter frame to his tall one, forcing her to arch into him. The silk of her dress was thin and flimsily soft underneath his fingers, so thin, he was able to marvel at every elegant line of her body that curved and dipped under his hands. His kiss was one of a starving lover, not a gentle suitor. But dare she say she almost preferred it that way. She didn’t even feel the cold, she just felt loved. That was when she felt his fingers reach for something that made that last thought contradict itself, his mind was slowly letting his control be wrestled away from him. And every touch, and the slightest move from her only sought to hurl him further into the clutches of inescapable all consuming desire. But there was still one thing that stuck in his mind, something he had mentioned to her when they had happened upon each other in the park the other day, and he wanted to indulge himself, and seeing as they had privacy now… His hands found her shoulders, sliding down the bare cool brush of her upper arms, eventually, after what felt like a million years as he softly kissed her lips with maddening, mind stealing skill, whilst his fingers found the lip of her golden glove. And slowly, gently, for all the starving lust he had unleashed upon her tonight, slowly guided the glove down off her left arm, the rush of silk sliding off her is like an endless kiss to her skin, causing gooseflesh to ripple across her arms. What he did next, made her heart ache… His fingers pulled the glove down and off her arm, dropping it to the bench by her side, then he repeated the action with her other arm. Abandoning the glove the same way he had the other one. And then he just held her hand, twining it in his own fingers. That move stole all her breath and thought, without contestation. She looked up at him, and she was suddenly nothing but that soft cherry red smile, with cute dimples at the corner of her delectable mouth. And her eyes are nothing but wide doleful cute little things that could command him to do whatever she wished. His eyes bore deeply into her own, Even under the mask, she could still not get over how bright they managed to be. Maybe he had showed her not to be so scared of desire, or maybe it was finally that her courage managed to catch up to her. But her hands reached back, tugging through the short thorns of his silk like black hair that he shuddered out a shaky breath as her fingers slid through it. He closed his eyes, fighting the moan that rolled up, deep from the back of his throat. He felt her petite hands go to the tied tight bow of his mask, and slowly slide the two ribbons apart, holding the mask as she lifted it down and off his face. He opened his eyes as he felt the thing come away from his face as she lifted it off him. Seeing once again that stunningly perfect face of his come into view, the full angled plane of his smooth carved jaw, the handsomely set bridge of his nose, and the full view of his gorgeously shaped ice chip coloured eyes were left unhindered by the shadowed brim of his dark mask once more. She let it lower to her side, her arm falling back down with the mask in her grip. He cupped his hand to the back of her neck, leaning in with such agonizing slowness to press his mouth to hers again, taking his time in kissing her now. Needing more of how her responsive body curled and keened into him, he thoroughly took advantage of this soft little action, and darting his tongue firmly into her mouth, stroking and smoothing about in a way that left them both panting. Suddenly, Thomas felt that it wasn’t enough. He really needed her now. He either needed confirmation that she was his, or he needed to posess the freedom to press her into the wall, lift up her skirts and claim her, make her scream his name to the heavens above. “I need you. I need you so much, Elizabeth. When can I have you, I can’t hold back for much longer..” He lusted. She smiled, her mouth gaping open as he skimmed his lips up across her cheek, to her neck once more. His hot breath making her knees weak as it rushed across her skin, tinting it a hot pink. “Oh, Thomas..” She gasped. “When will you learn that you already have me...” She asked, watching as he twirled a perfectly curled lock of red hair about his finger, she lost sense as his hot fingers brushed the delicate skin of her neck oh-so lightly. He tugged her close after hearing her say that, sealing their lips together once more, growling ferally into her mouth. When they broke again after a few long moments, they found they were all tangled and twisted together once more. Her arms wrapped tight about his neck, and his clasping her close by the waist, the other wrapping as far as it could around her. “I know I’m not supposed to allow any thoughts to cross my head, especially when we’re kissing. As I am to take it, I understand that such raw passion is supposed to leave me thoughtless…” She explained. Going giddy at the way he kissed down her neck, coming to her gown, and making her bite her lip as he slid the shoulder of it slightly down to her upper arm, placing a kiss to her shoulder causing her to tingle and melt a little bit at the knees. He was doing that thing he was so skilled at, which consisted of making her brain mushy again. “It is..” He murmured onto her skin. Before his mouth lowered to nip gently at her collarbone, he strained down to place a kiss to her thrumming pulse point, feeling that her skin was still so hot. “Whilst that may be, and whilst you are continuing to weaken my knees, I cannot help but be wary of the fact that Mrs Sharpe will definitely notice mine and your absence now. She is, sometimes, you know, a clever woman. She’ll have put two and two together…” She explained, her hand going up to latch into the back of his soft inky hued hair. He stopped, sighing against her neck. “I suppose that is plausible.” He uttered, his voice a rasping kiss strained husk now. “Maybe you should slip back..and I should try and locate a.. uh, ladies powdering room.” She insinuated, her fingers going to try and tame her mane like hair now, he chuckled, his hands had undoubtedly mussed it to an obvious ruffled indelicate state, that any respectful mama or debutante worth their mettle could instantly pick up as a lustful misadventure into the shadowy gardens to accompany a rake of a gentleman into unsavoury things – and unchaperoned at that too…. He touched his fingers now to the stray swirls of messy curls. “I rather like it. That and the flushed cheeks makes you look like my wild temptress…” He lusted, kissing her cheek, tilting her chin in his hand as he did. Holding her face up to him. She smiled. “Go, quick. Before people start to gossip about our reputations. Mine can be more easily tarnished than yours..” She explained, half heartedly trying to push his chest away from her own as he leered down at her, re-securing his mask on his face. “How so?” He frowned. “You are the Right Honourable Gentleman, His Lordship, Duke of Chatsworth.” “I am a gentleman, and you, Elizabeth, are a gentleman’s daughter. Make no mistake about it. We are of the same equals in rank and station, and I will fight to the death with my dying breath, anyone who dares declare otherwise, or insinuates that we are not suited as so.” He pressed firmly, an edge of authority in his eyes that she adored grouped with those words. Still though, with a touch of a smile to his lips. She smiled, her knees as soft as melted butter at what he proclaimed. “I am just ‘That red headed’ Professor’s Daughter, or ‘That Stubborn, shy, Farrow Girl’.” She insisted. Repeating the phrases that she’d heard parroted about by many Mama’s from all the gossip papers in London. “Wrong.” He bit out. Wolfish grin on his lips, dominance in his blue eyes. She frowned. “You are henceforth about to bare the title as the my fiancée, and the future Duchess of Chatsworth.” He reminded her, sneaking forwards to place one single kiss to her lips, long enough to make sure she arched into him. Then, when he pulled away, with a wink and a smile that could fell Queen Victoria herself, he vanished off into the cool night air. She could hear nothing but his boots on the gravel until he disappeared completely out of sight. Leaving her flustered and thrilled, and oh-so very in Love. ~ She had managed to sneak in unnoticed through an unlocked side door, which luckily, led right down a darkened corridor straight to a Ladies Powdering room. Thankfully, she was able to re-tame her ‘wild’ thick red coiled hair into something resembling civility and order. Pleased to see also that her cheeks had calmed down from their previous flushed state. Pleased that she looked the same as she did before, she exited the room, clicking the door shut, and sneaking silently back down the darkened hall, able to hear the music thrum from beyond its encasing in the ballroom ahead of her. She could only hope she didn’t stumble upon a couple of trysting young lovers.. what an embarrassment that would be. But then she smiled widely, as not ten moment’s previous, she had been part of a trysting young couple. That thought warmed her from the inside out, and just thoughts of Thomas, she noted, kept her warm better than any pelisse ever could. She had just clattered lightly down a couple of steps, seeing another corridor branch out ahead of her. The music grew louder now. That was the polka If she wasn’t mistaken. But her thoughts were swiped from her brain in a startling rush as she had just gripped her hand to the doorknob, about to push the door open, when the brutal force of a hard muscled body that told her it was definitely a man, collided into her back, throwing her away from the door, and tugging her to one side. Slamming her back viciously into the wall next to the door. His grip on her shoulders hurting her, grasping her so tight she swore she’d have dark bruises by the morrow. She nearly screamed, the man who accosted her was outfitted in a costume of pure red. With a skull mask swathing any discernable distinguishing facial features in regards to his identity, to her. She felt like screaming, in fact the small yelp that bubbled up and out of her throat at the sudden assault makes her sure she just almost did. Then, suddenly, she swallows. Remembering she had seen that green ring about his irises, daring her to draw deeper into his maliciously dark eyes before. And he was dressed as the Red Death, oh, how appropriate; Marcus Burke. “Scream, and I’ll strangle you, Elizabeth..” He snarled. His large hand beginning to close around her throat. Feeling her pulse thrum hot and panicked under his palm, her breath heaving and pulling at her chest. Which he eyes up hungrily. She truly did have remarkable breasts. He licked his lips looking at her. His mask only covered the upper half of his face, after all. She winced, trying to squirm out from his vice grip. “Marcus, what are you doing?” She gasped, one tear bursting to slide down her cheek. She had never known such uneasy terror like this. “I’m showing you what happens when you forget who is the one courting you…” He growled, squeezing her throat tighter. She whimpered, clawing at his strong hands. He leered close to her then, she fought not to shudder in repugnance at the strong fumes of drink that his breath carried. He was drunk. To no surprise of hers. “Please, you’re hurting me…” She cried, sobbing as those dark eyes glinted in violent pleasure at seeing her like this. “And you’re inconveniencing me…” He snapped back. “Swanning around London like a gracious whore, flirting with that Duke.” He spat. There was no other way to phrase how he had snapped the words to her, spitting out each one in snarls as if they were bad tastes In his mouth. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore him?” She asked. She closed her eyes, whimpering in pain again as his hand clamped so tight, she knows there will be red grip marks when he lets her go. “Yes.” He hisses into her ear, spittle from his snarling landing on her neck as he spoke. Again, came another scared tear from the corner of her eye. “You could have adhered to your promise to marry me, instead.” “You haven’t asked me to marry you. You’ve been too busy leaping into bed with Mabel Loxley as I understand it…” She snarled, her bravado swelling up inside of her as she sneered at him now. He grimaced at how the silly tramp looked pleased with herself, he’d have to punish her for that.. He reached up to tug of his own mask, throwing it away from his face, so she could see he was glowering down at her with venom in his eyes. He chucked it away to the floor behind him with his spare hand, still gripping her throat tight. That was before he chuckled, letting go of her throat, tugging her close to his body as he braced his over hers, making her press her chest into him, aswell as the fronts of both her squeezable fat thighs. One hand went to grasp at her bottom, the other steadied himself by bracing it flat to the wall behind her head. His body felt hot, and wrong, jutting into her own in a horrible way that she hated. She twisted her head to the side as he snarled into her ear, his lips contorting, brushing against her skin as he spoke. “Jealous?” He leered. “Because the man I hate is bedding the silliest most toxic chit in all of London. No, I’m not envious. Not even one bit.” She fought back, no hint of where her bravery was bursting from inside of her. She was trembling. He chuckled again, a deep scoffing sound. “Mabel’s an easy woman to bed, unlike you. She doesn’t have to stand on principle and station.” “It sounds to me like she’s suffering the advantage’s of a woman who has none of either.” She bit out. “Oh, I do so love your quick wit…” He smiled. “But I think I love your body more. Oh, you're making me so hard, you stubborn little bitch. So untouchable aren't you. I forgot how pristine you virgins can be..” He rasped, closing his hand around one ass cheek. “God, I can barely fit it in my hand…” Another tear at that…. He lusted in amazement, leaning forwards to kiss up her neck. Each touch made her shrink away from him in horror. Black bursts of sickening dirtiness dancing through her bloodstream. He did the same to her breasts, groping them so tight, exclaiming how he could barely get his hand around it. “Does it hurt you to know that after I take you, here, tonight, in this hallway, that you’ll have no chance of wedding that bloody Duke. We can invite him to the ceremony of course, let him sit there and watch as I make you Mrs Burke, and watch him squirm as he imagines us in bed together on our wedding night.” “What makes you think I’ll ever marry you?” She snarls back, crying, fighting to wriggle out of his grip now. His words making more tears dribble from her eyes. She was so scared, yet she had never been so breathtakingly angry in all her life. “It’s what your father wants. Its what I want, and I’ll force you to want it too. You don’t want to upset Daddy and Araminta, Now do you Elizabeth?” He mocked, starting to laugh a sickeningly dark chuckle at her. She pushed her hands to his chest, moaning as she tried to throw him away from her. He didn’t budge an inch as she tried to shove him. “Oh? Are you trying to fight me? Do you want to get away, Elizabeth, Is that it?” He snarled, still chuckling his words, getting up close into her face, trying to mock her, there came more frustrated tears down her cheeks. Suddenly, she doesn’t quite know how she does it, all she knows is, that she summoned some form of discernable strength from somewhere deep in her bones. Perhaps it was the way she hated how he talked to her, how he drank, how he treated her like a trophy to be won into marriage, or possibly how she hated his guts, his eyes, his hair, and everything about him. Everything from the last tip of his hair, to his toes, hell, even his own bloody dog, if he had one. Well. She hated that too. She hated Marcus Burke with every bone in her body. And, speaking of such, there wasn’t any evidence of him having a single good one in him. She manages to shove both her hands into his torso, succeeding to launch his entire muscled frame backwards, his grip on her loosened for a moment as he stooped to laugh at her displeasure and pain. He stumbled, his ace shocked as he looked at the small, very angry creature, that was stood snarling in front of him. She looked remarkably like the calm placid girl who used to be Miss Elizabeth, demure-and-shy-and-the-living-emodiment-of-polite-charity-and-harmlessness, Farrow. But her tolerance and her usually good temper had snapped. Having been provoked into violence by this man. She prayed a swift vehement to the sweet natured girl whom he had clasped to the wall and assaulted three moments previous. She was wild now, and fuming. And she looked it, her eyes set in such anger, if looks could kill, he would surely be dead. And some strands of her hair had drifted down to float angelically about her face, her lips pulled into a snarl. Though she looked as furious as the devil in that moment. There was no one to save her, and for once in her damned life. She was going to stop wishing for the handsome prince to come along and make the day. Goddammit she was going to save herself this time… come hell or high water… Her life was at stake, and for once she would not be that unfortunate red haired wallflower… “I will NEVER marry you.” She seethed quietly in a thin reed like voice that could have killed someone it was so lethal. “I can never marry you. How could I marry a man I so obviously loathe? Your character, Marcus Burke, is no better than poison. I had the damned effrontery to think you polite at one time. But that time has gone. Nothing on earth and in all of the heavens combined could ever tempt me to wed you. I thought you a decent man at one time, but I can clearly see now it was all an act to secure my affections. But I will stand for being talked down to, and handed about like a toy no longer. I am in love with Thomas Kenworthy, and whether you like it or not, I will be his wife. And you shall never have the opportunity to ruin me. I shall not let you. Not for one second. And do you honestly think my father or my stepmother will let me marry someone who they both extremely dislike, and whom they both can clearly see I abhor? They detest you as much as I do. With all the drinking and the rude manners, and bedding women from the Gaiety, I half wonder why they didn’t dismiss you from me earlier. From tonight onwards, I shall not receive you, I shall not wish to speak to you. And Unless you never speak to or come near me again, then I shall report you to the police for harassment. Do you understand? You have lost me Mr Burke. So you and your stupid oaf of a father can take your manners and attentions for finding a sensible easily ignorable wife elsewhere. I never wish to see you contaminate my path, ever again!” She shouted. Uncaring that she was raising her voice, and shouting her words so that her words scraped through her throat painfully as she yelled. Her voice hoarse and she yelled through the tears. She didn’t care if anyone heard her. In fact, she hoped they did. And her fists were clenched so tight, her whole upper body shook with fury. “So that’s the way it’s going to be? Is it Elizabeth?” He asked with a voice like murder. She offered him no answer but a glare. “Fine.” He snarled. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me. Tell your precious Duke to watch his back..” He promised as stood looking at her, panting in anger for a second, before he snarled at her impassiveness, turning on his heel and disappearing off down the corridor. She slipped back inside the ballroom almost instantly after he had gone, her knees wobbled and she felt parched and very weak. She shut the door after her, shakily with sweating hands under her gloves. And tried to keep her back straight, and look elegant and unaffected as she scanned the room for Felicity and Mrs Sharpe. All she could see was the blur of people dancing, and laughing around her. She actually felt quite ill now… having done something so out of character for her. She swallowed, feeling that her throat was a sticky dry channel. Bile rising in her throat. She placed a hand to her forehead, suddenly feeling rather woozy and lightheaded. Her chst was pounding and she suddenly felt herself gasping for breath. When she opened her eyes and looked to the dancing crowds in front of her. She could see nothing but dizzying drags in her vision. She tried to calm herself, placing a hand across her mouth, and it was at this point that she saw a solid wall of a man’s chest come into her vision, aswell as a silky voice. She looked up, through her compromised vision, to see that Benedict Carlton had spotted her, and broken away from the crowds to wish her a good evening. He too, was dressed in a princely manner like Thomas had been, except his coat was a blue, and his mask a deep golden colour. He lifted it from his face as he greeted her, standing with a hand behind his back. Leering handsomely at her with a polite bow. “Miss Farrow. It is such a delight..” He smiled, his grin and seductive eyes, were one’s that could have even the most stern Mama weak kneed on the spot in an instant. Elizabeth swallowed, blinking rapidly as she exhaled a breath and a shaky smile. She watched as he tilted his head, smile fading. “Goodness, Miss Farrow, you look most pale? Can I fetch you something, A refreshment perhaps..” He asked, hint of playful charm in his voice gone, he was now leaning close to see her eyes were blinking quite a lot. And he chest was raggedly pounding through her laboured breaths. She really did look as white as a sheet. “Forgive me… I..” She gusted out on a breath, clamping her mouth shut as she wasn’t so unsure that when she opened it again, she’d vomit at his feet. “I’m..” She warned, but barely were the words out of her mouth as she crumpled to the floors below. Luckily, Benedict, having been a man of action, and of extreme kindness and chivalry - when he wasn’t bedding his conquests – dived to her side in an instant, making sure her lithe form fell neatly into his arms without injury. He held her in a most intimate manner. “Elizabeth?” He asked her in a hush, as she stayed still, looking like she was deep in slumber. His lower arm had caught her across her back, and the other at her knees. One of his legs bent at the knee and braced down on the tiled floor, stooping to catch her. Her red curls thrown over his arm as he held her. One of her arms tucked into her body, the other flailing out to the side, her knuckles brushing the floor where she had been seconds from falling too. “Miss Elizabeth?” He asked, louder, seeing she did not stir. His voice was concerned and searching for her response. But she was perfectly limp in his arms: The last thing Elizabeth heard was gasps and exclaims as she fell to the floor like a useless sack of boneless skin, her dizzying vision dragging into twirling blackness as she faded out from reality into nothingness ~ @wolfsmom1 @damageditem @echantedbytwh anyone else want tagging? Let a punk know...