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fatalfangirl · 1 year ago

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Almost Six Books Sunday

Hi, i’m around, just perpetually exhausted and still dealing with everything I previously shared. Which means I have not had the mental capacity to write! At all! Not even a little! But I have been reading because *escapism*

So I’m here to share five books I have recently enjoyed. They’re all m/m, most are a mind-the-trigger-warnings situation, and they have all kept me sane during times of e x t r e m e stress.

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows.

Byzantine politics, lush sexual energy, and a queer love story that is by turns sweet and sultry, Foz Meadows' A Strange and Stubborn Endurance is an exploration of gender, identity, and self-worth. It is a book that will live in your heart long after you turn the last page.

And boy if that ain’t the truth. I LOVED Vel and Cae so much and world felt full and rich (even if the main political mystery element was kind of unnecessarily convoluted). Definitely mind the TW, but I enjoyed this book greatly and thought Vel’s growth in particular was well done.

To say I look forward to the second book is an understatement.

A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland

To prove his loyalty to the queen, his sister, Kadou takes responsibility for the investigation of a break-in at one of their guilds, with the help of his newly appointed bodyguard, the coldly handsome Evemer, who seems to tolerate him at best. In Arasht, where princes can touch-taste precious metals with their fingers and myth runs side by side with history, counterfeiting is heresy, and the conspiracy they discover could cripple the kingdom’s financial standing and bring about its ruin.

This book is delish. Yum yum yummy slow burn. Very character driven where (once again) the political mystery plot sort of takes a back seat to the more interesting relation developing. Kadou and Evemer have that sort of interdependency that I am weak for. WEAK I tell you.

Also the author wrote a fic for her own book and I love that for all of us.

Lord of Silver Ashes (Rowan Blood Book 2) by Kellen Graves

After two weeks in the attic of Danann House, Saffron anticipates the moment he can finally be reunited with Prince Cylvan--but that day is unexpectedly marred by a visit from Headmistress Elluin, who doesn't believe Saffron was the one to perform magic in Beantighe Village in the attempt to save Berry. Saffron will be expected to prove it; if he can't, every other human he loves will be arrested and executed for arid practice and conspiracy.

This book series is the type of thing that I could binge read forever. Is it ultra original? No. Are there TW galore? Definitely. Does our plucky mc have plot armor? The thickest. He should be dead like 10 times over, but is instead in a constant state of what must be agonizing pain from gruesome injuries he somehow just grits his teeth through.

And I love every fucking moment of this series. Saffron is BABY and his dumb high elf lover is ALSO BABY. I cannot wait for book 3.

Prince and Pawn (Perilous Courts Book 3) by Tavia Lark

Prince and Pawn is a high fantasy gay romance with hurt/comfort, forbidden pining, inappropriate use of vines, and more magic tigers. The Perilous Courts series is best read in order, but each book follows a different prince and his Happily Ever After.

I have read 4.5 of the planned 6 books in this series and I keep thinking “surely there’s no possible way I’ll enjoy this couple as much as the last.” And then I DO. EVERY. TIME. But Audric and Corin get special mention because their particular trope is one I’m extra weak to.

This series is really about the characters with the barest thread of a plot, but oh how yummy those characters are. I freaking churned through a book a day and then ended up on the author’s Patreon because I couldn’t get enough. BOOK 5 SOON!!!!!

Wolfsong (Green Creek Book 1) by TJ Klune

Wolfsong is the beginning of the Green Creek Series, the beloved fantasy romance sensation by New York Times bestselling author TJ Klune, about love, loyalty, betrayal, and family.

I will murder for this pack!!! Ox and Joe are just so very!!!!!!!! WEEPS!

Now does it take some wrapping your head around the whole “they were 10 and 16 and destined to be together”? Yes, yes it does, but I think this series does a good job of showing that love is not necessarily sexual—as good a job as it does showing family is not necessarily blood.

(I’m almost done with book 2, and Mark might be the ultimate babe.)

If you managed to make it this far, thanks for that. I’ll come up for air again soon.

#all I want to do is read about overcoming challenges to be together forever #I don’t want to be challenged by a book right now #I just want to swoon and hug it close to my chest and just breathe

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omgrachwrites · 4 years ago

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The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne. Royal AU.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of blood

Words: 2607

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: Please don’t hate me for this chapter! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter Eleven - There Goes My Hero

A soft smile had already worked its way onto your face by the time that you had woken up in your husband’s warm arms. You remembered your dream – it was a beautiful dream – Sirius had stayed by your side forever and he never had to go away to war again. But, you knew that your life couldn’t be like that, that was the curse of marrying a Duke.

Gently, you untangled yourself from his arms and padded over to the window when you noticed that it was snowing. You smiled in awe when you looked out of the frost covered window; perfect snowflakes were falling from the white sky before drifting to the ground in a quiet whisper. March was a strange month in England, there had been a couple of really warm days where you and Sirius could have picnics by the lake among the beautiful flowers that were starting to bloom.

But, soon enough, the weather turned cold again and you were greeted with snow. Not that you minded all that much, you absolutely loved the snow, it was beautiful and magical, it could make the most ordinary thing pretty and sparkling. The cold weather was also a great excuse to snuggle up closer with your husband.

Behind you, Sirius grumbled sleepily and you smiled as you turned around to see him sitting up, running a hand through his shorter hair. He offered you a gorgeous sleepy smile and you admired how devastatingly handsome he was in the mornings, “good morning, my love. What are you doing all the way over there?” he pouted like a child as he reached out his arms.

You giggled as you rolled your eyes playfully, “it’s snowing outside, I wanted to see how pretty it was,” you smiled as you padded over to the bed and climbed back into Sirius’ warm arms.

He pulled you closer so you were leaning against his firm chest, “you are the prettiest thing in all of this world, never mind the snow,” he chuckled as he kissed your flushed cheek and you felt your insides tingle with joy. He was silent for a moment as you traced gentle patterns against his skin, running a nail over his scars, smiling when he shivered, “are you still angry with me, Y/N?” he whispered.

You grimaced, he was going back to battle, you’d managed to keep him at home with you for three blissful months but you knew that he was going to be going back. He would be leaving in a couple of hours. An argument had broken out on his last night because you were so scared of losing him, you heavily regretted the fact that you’d gone to bed angry.

You shook your head as you leaned up to kiss him, “I wasn’t angry, not really. I was just scared, I’m sorry Sirius.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, I understand,” he pressed a kiss against your forehead as he stroked his fingers through your hair, “I promise that I’ll be here before its time for you to give birth,” he rubbed his hand over the swell of your stomach, making you smile, you only had a couple of months left, “do you want to go for a walk or something? We have a few hours before I have to leave.”

You loved walking in the snow and Sirius always looked so beautiful when the snowflakes got caught in his hair. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your warm comfortable bed. You shook your head as you cupped his cheeks, stroking a thumb over his rough stubble.

“No, I don’t want to go for a walk; I want to stay here in this bed with you until you have to leave. Is that alright?”

Sirius nodded as he grinned at you wickedly and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, “that’s absolutely perfect, you know, there’s a lot we can do in a few hours,” he smirked.

For the last few hours you had together you made love and talked about the future; including the name of your unborn child. Sirius said he didn’t mind but you could see it in his eyes that he wanted a little girl. All too soon, it was time for your husband to leave so the both of you reluctantly got dressed and said goodbye for the second time.

“Come back to me,” you whispered against Sirius’ lips as you planted a lingering passionate kiss on his lips.

You felt him smile into the kiss before he pulled away slightly and he lifted your hands to his lips, “always, my love. I’ll always come back to you, I promise, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled with tears in your eyes as you stood back so he could mount his horse.

Lily wrapped her arms around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder as the both of you watched your heroes ride off into the distance. Sirius took your heart with him.

So far, Sirius had been gone for a month and you hated every second of it. Again, you had no idea whether he was dead or alive; you knew it wasn’t safe to send letters while he was on the battle field. The snow from March was replaced by the warm breezy days of April but the warm weather didn’t help brighten your mood. It seemed that Sophia was worried about you too, so she suggested that you go for a walk on the grounds.

It was now clear that Sophia was pregnant so she couldn’t hide it from Lily anymore, like you, Lily had been shocked but she wasn’t angry at Sophia, she just looked a little sad. You had still heard rumours about Sophia fly through the court but no one had been horrible to her, due to the Queen’s protection.

You smiled as the scent of the spring flowers was carried heavily on the wind and it made you feel so much lighter. You sighed, feeling happy for the first time in ages as you linked your arm through Sophia’s and rested your head on her shoulder.

“I’m not ready to let you go to France,” you pouted, “I still don’t trust Francis and you’ll be so far away. We’ve never been apart, not even when we were children.”

Sophia smiled at you as she pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Francis is actually rather charming, and France isn’t so far away. You and Sirius, and your baby can come and visit whenever you want.”

“We’ll be taking you up on that offer,” you giggled, “I think we’re planning to spend most of the summer at Sirius’ chateau,” you sighed wistfully as you thought of the hot summer days and the balmy nights. It would be the three of you, instead of just the two of you, “I can’t wait to go back to France. I’ll miss you and I know that Lily will miss you too.”

Sophia flushed as you both sat on the stone bench by the trickling fountain that had a beautiful statue of a mermaid in the centre, “the Queen has been much too kind to me.”

You took Sophia’s hands in yours as you smiled at her, “you deserve kindness, Sophia. Every bit of it.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” she grinned.

You closed your eyes and listened to the pretty sound of the trickling water, and the beautiful song of the lark. It was a pretty day and you were happy, the only thing that could make it more perfect would be if your beautiful husband was by your side. You sent your love to him, wherever he was and you prayed to God that he would be safe.

Suddenly, a pressure lurched in your stomach and you winced as you sucked in a breath, “did the baby kick?” Sophia asked with a smile and you nodded as you pressed your hands against your stomach.

“Yes, I think that someone’s getting a little restless and impatient,” you let out a breathless laugh, you were also getting impatient, you wanted to meet your child. A couple of minutes passed by and you felt another kick but this time it was painful and you felt a strange sort of warmth. You felt the colour drain from your face as you realised that it wasn’t a kick. It was a contraction.

“Sophia, I think my water has just broken,” you gasped as you clutched at your stomach.

Sophia’s eyes widened, “but it’s a month too early! Are you sure?”

You nodded and cried out as another contraction wracked through your body without warning, “trust me, I’m sure.”

Straight away, Sophia helped you up, “we must get you to your confinement,” she wrapped her arms around you and helped you into the castle as quickly as she could. Your chambers felt so far away when you were in so much pain.

Sophia helped you onto the bed, “I need to get the midwives.”

“No!” you whimpered as you reached for her, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I’ll be two minutes, I promise,” Sophia tried to smile.

Sophia was true to her word, she was back within minutes, with Lily and the midwives, and she clutched your hand. You had never felt pain like this, it felt like you were getting split open.

“I can’t do this alone! I need Sirius, someone please send for him,” you cried, momentarily forgetting that he was at war, “he promised that he’d be here.”

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” Lily told you kindly while Sophia wiped a cool cloth over your burning forehead, “we’re here by your side, you can do this! Think of being able to welcome Sirius home with your baby.”

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Panic shot through Sirius’ body as he wiped the blood from his eye as he looked over at the enemy lines and saw that his best friend had an arrow in his chest. If James didn’t get help soon then he would die and England would be thrown into turmoil. The enemy had left the King to die, it was clear that they wanted him to have a slow and painful death; Sirius wouldn’t leave him here to die.

The rain was pouring now but maybe that was a good thing, maybe it would cause a distraction while Sirius rescued James. Before Sirius could second guess himself, he leapt over the barricades and he ran across the battlefield. He thought of nothing in that moment apart from saving his King.

“Sirus, no!” Remus called after him, “it’s a trap!”

Sirius ignored him as he splashed through the mud and he reached James who was desperately trying to put pressure on his wound, blood spurting through his fingers. He looked pale and he was shaking as he looked up at Sirius, “you shouldn’t be here, just leave me.”

Sirius furiously shook his head as he felt tears sting at his eyes, “James you’re my best friend, and my King. I’m not leaving you here to die, I promised Lily that I would bring you back to her, you wouldn’t want to make a liar out of me would you?” he chuckled as he hauled James to his feet and let James lean on him as they made their way across the battlefield as quickly as they could without letting James bleed out.

Remus laughed and shook his head as he helped James over the barricade, “you’re crazy, Sirius.”

Sirius laughed, “well, I couldn’t let our King die,” he didn’t see the rider but he felt the knife go in and out of his side before he had a chance to climb over the barricade. Sirius gasped as he held the wound in his side and he looked down, seeing the blood blossom through his armour.

“Sirius?” he heard Remus say but his voice was distorted, almost like he was underwater. Sirius let out a pained laugh as he felt his head spin, his eyes grew as heavy as lead, and he couldn’t keep them open. That’s when everything went dark.

When Sirius woke up he was in a moving carriage that smelt of mud and blood, and he groaned in pain, he had never felt anything like it, he cried out as the dull pain wracked through his body. He felt hot but cold at the same time, if he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he was dying, it felt like dying. It felt like the blade was still in his skin. James gasped – he was alive – as he gave Sirius a drink of water, it was the sweetest thing that he’d ever tasted.

“You’re alive! We’re going home, Sirius we won! It was one of Voldemort’s men who stabbed you. Due to the fact you rescued me, the Scots want to make a deal, and you’re a hero, Sirius! As soon as we get home, I’m going to make you a Knight.”

“Y/N, I want Y/N. I want my wife, where is she?” Sirius breathed, she was the last thing that he thought of before darkness overtook him again.

The room smelled sickly sweet and rotten, it was the smell of death. James bit his lip as the doctor looked up from Sirius’ motionless body, “he’s in worse condition then I thought but he’s still alive, you acted quickly, Your Majesty. I hope that he’ll make it through the night but the odds are slim. Call for me if his condition gets worse, or better,” the doctor wiped his bloody hands on a rag as he packed away all his supplies.

James nodded as sadness swelled in his chest, he couldn’t lose his best friend, and he would feel guilty about it for the rest of his life. Sirius was close to death because James had to be saved, it would be his fault if Sirius died, it would be his fault if Y/N was left alone. James followed the doctor out into the corridor where Lily was standing with her arms around Y/N. Y/N was weeping, she looked heart broken.

“He’s a hero, Y/N. He saved my life.”

“I’m glad that you’re alright James,” Y/N offered him a small smile, “how is he?” she asked, hope in her eyes and James hated to be the one to break her heart further. But he didn’t have to, the doctor spoke up for him.

“It’s best if you say your goodbyes, Duchess, I doubt he’ll make it through the night.”

Y/N choked on a sob as she looked down at her twins before she walked into Sirius’ room, James sighed as Lily laid her head on his chest and James wrapped his arms around her, they didn’t want to leave Y/N.

“Sirius,” Y/N sobbed, “Sirius, you can’t leave me, you promised,” she sniffled as she reached down and kissed him on his forehead, brushing his hair off his forehead, “we have twins,” she let out a broken little laugh and sat on the chair by his bed, “we have a boy and a girl. Johnathan and Elena, they both look just like you. We need you to fight this Sirius, fight this injury. James told me what happened, you’re a hero, and I just need you to come back to us. Come back to me, you need to meet your children and watch them grow up,” she choked on her tears.

“Come on,” James muttered to Lily, let’s give them their privacy, Lily nodded sadly as she kissed James’ cheek and they walked down the corridor together. Sirius had to get through this, he just had to.

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@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @siriuslyjanhvi @pregnant-piggy @lindatreb @mabelle-cherie @hxrgreeves @britishspidey @mads-bri @classicrocketqueen @sxtansqueen @hufflepuffzutara @missmulti @bruxa0007 @ourstarsailor @fific7 @galwithbluethoughts @2410slb @sunles @krismeunicornbaobei @theincredibledeadlyviper @deathkat657

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daydreaming-optimist · 4 years ago

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Tag 9 people to learn about their interests!

Tagged by @gallagherfionas :)

MUSIC

Fave genre? uhhhh does Broadway count?

Fave artist? probably Taylor Swift

Fave song? ahhhhh you expect me to choose???

Most listened song recently? If I Can’t Love Her cover by Ramin Karimloo

Song currently stuck in your head? Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

5 fave lyrics?

“she could walk in the sun / and the sun in turn burned twice as bright” from Epic I (Hadestown)

“I can’t tell you I know what the answer will be / it’s impossible / but this thing, this is bigger than what we can see / please just look at me / we are tied, we are locked, we are bound / this will not be reversed or unwound / whatever fate the stars are weaving / we’re not breaking, I’m not leaving” from One Second and a Million Miles (Bridges of Madison County) yes I put the entire verse because it’s beautiful

“your braids like a pattern / love you to the moon and to Saturn / passed down like folk songs / the love lasts so long” from seven (Taylor Swift)

“take my hand / I’ll lead you to salvation / take my love / for love is everlasting / and remember this truth that once was spoken / to love another person is to see the face of God” from the Epilogue/Finale (Les Misérables)

“let me in, hold me close / fill my heart with simple notes / so when it’s hard to see / they are there reminding me / take my breath and hold me high / so I can feel the city lights / glowing under me / it’s in our reach / we’re breaking out” from We’ll Be The Stars (Sabrina Carpenter)

BOOKS

Fav book genre? romance or fantasy

Fav writer? Leigh Bardugo or Madeline Miller

Fav book? uhhhhh probably The Song of Achilles or Six of Crows

Fav book series? probably Six of Crows, The Lunar Chronicles, or The Song of the Lioness

Comfort book? all the American Girl and Dear America books, as well as every book that I’ve read by Jessica Day George

Perfect book to read on a rainy day? hmmm maybe Little Women by Louisa May Alcott or Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George

Fave characters? oh this could go on for a long time -- Cress Darnel, Galen Werner, Inej Ghafa, David Kostyk, Asterin Blackbeak, Patroclus

5 quotes from your fave book that you know by heart?

“He smiled, and his face was like the sun” from The Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller)

“We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to wring magic from the ordinary” from Crooked Kingdom (Leigh Bardugo)

“I … I don’t understand half of what goes on around me. I don’t get jokes or sunsets or poetry, but I know metal. [...] Beauty was your armor. Fragile stuff, all show. But what’s inside you? That’s steel. It’s brave and unbreakable. And it doesn’t need fixing.” from Ruin and Rising (Leigh Bardugo)

“Come with me and you shall be an empress with the moon for your throne and constellations to wear in your hair” from The Star-Touched Queen (Roshani Chokshi)

“It will be remembered that she was more of a lark than a dove. There was a foundation of wildness and bravery in her” from Les Misérables (Victor Hugo)

TV AND MOVIES

Fave tv/movie genre? fantasy, romcom/romance, “chick flick”

Fave movie? you mean I have to choose?? at moment I’m going to say Princess Bride I think

Comfort movie? Princess Bride, Incredibles, Tangled, The Aristocats, Sky High, Legally Blonde

Movie you watch every year? Hocus Pocus every Halloween, and I just watch any of my comfort movies all the time

Fave tv show? Firefly and Avatar: the Last Airbender

Comfort tv show? Phineas and Ferb or A:TLA probably

Most rewatched tv show? uhhh probably Firefly

5 fave characters? Inara Serra (Firefly), Sokka (A:TLA), Marie (The Aristocats), Elle Woods (Legally Blonde), Neil Perry (Dead Poets Society)

tagging (no pressure): @just-a-cup-of-anxietea @amortensie @courageisneverforgotten @katherinerose64 @scatterbrained-daydreamer @floofylion @onceupon-a-decembr @its-me-satine @meiitanoia

#thanks for tagging me!#abby tag #mutuals #tag game #(and as always let me know if you don't want to be tagged)#long post

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aforrestofstuff · 5 years ago

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Okay! I have a burning question for you, my dude. Music is my life, and I wanna know what kind of music the OPM casts listen to. Thanks, my guy!

I had a feeling this would be inevitable lol. I don’t really know a whole lot about music or genres or anything like that so I’m just gonna give you a rundown of each character individually and some song recs along with that just to smooth things out a little. Thanks for your ask, by the way! ❤️ Now my playlists will be put to good use.

A Brief Rundown of the Major OPM Characters’ Music Tastes:

Blast: hc that he doesn’t even have ears since he never fucking LISTENS

Terrible Tornado: Stuff that makes her feel powerful. Loud vocals and good instrumentals. Also, she’s a little angsty since she’s saltier than the gotdamn Pacific almost all of the time. (Recs: Florence and the Machine - How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, Susanne Sundfør - Delirious, Florence and the Machine - What Kind of Man, Kali Uchis - Dead to Me, Let’s Eat Grandma - Falling Into Me)

Fubuki: some of that real classy shit. Slow songs that are nice to just have a cup of tea with. Nothing too meaty or fast-paced, she enjoys taking a moment to breathe every once and a while since life gets pretty hectic when you’re managing a gang of some 30 hooligans. (Recs: Wes - Midnight Low, any song from Lana Del Rey’s entire discography lol, Florence and the Machine - Grace, The Marìas - I Don’t Know You, Yellow House - Ain’t Gonna Call, Feng Suave - Toking, Dozing)

Silverfang: Stuff from his time. I hc that he was a bit of a party animal back in his prime so he’s gotta have those grooves. Disco to the extremo. Also, another hc: Garou absolutely hates his music. He would play it during training and Garou would contemplate homicide. (Recs: Frankie Valli - Grease, The Edgar Winter Group - Free Ride, KC and the Sunshine Band - I’m Your Boogie Man, Matthew Wilder - Break My Stride, The Main Ingredient - Everybody Plays the Fool, Andrea True Connection - More, More, More)

Bomb: save as Silverfang, although I hc that Bomb was a little more of a nerd growing up. Still, he never missed out on a good party. (Additional Recs: KC and the Sunshine Band - Get Down Tonight, The Trammps - Disco Inferno, Tierra - Together, Cornelius Bros and Sister Rose - Too Late to Turn Back Now)

Atomic Samurai: Old shit. Shit older than Silverfang. He’s really not that old, but his soul is fucking ancient and he’s got that classic “grrr music these days sucks” kind of shithead attitude. (Recs: Jim Croce - Time in a Bottle, Dion - Runaround Sue, The Carpenters - The End of the World, The Band - The Weight)

Child Emperor: Upbeat synth. Stuff to listen to while he’s working on his machines and whatnot. Probably has meaty beats to keep him in tune with what he’s doing, like working around a clock. Probably some groovy citypop in there too. (Recs: Taeko Ohnuki - 4:00 AM, Junko Ohashi - Telephone Number, Tatsuro Yamashita - Magic Ways, Hiroyuki Sawano - NEXUS, Superfly - Kakusei, Mariya Takeuchi - Plastic Love)

Metal Knight: Intrumentals that Disney villains listen to. Deep, dark shit that makes you feel sad. He probably feeds off of negative emotion. What a toolbag. (Recs: Lucas King - Sociopath, Abel Korzeniowski- Table for Two, Max Richter - Never Goodbye, Max Richter - She Remembers, Evelyn Stein - Quiet Resource, Mac Quayle - Adagio in G Minor)

King: video game soundtracks, obviously. Might be some electro funk in there too, as a treat. (Recs: Metal Gear Solid 3 OST - Snake Eater, Mick Gordon - Rip and Tear, Xenoblade Chronicles OST - Main Theme, Persona 5 OST - Last Surprise, Daft Punk - Verdis Quo, Toby Fox - Hopes and Dreams, Disasterpeace - Prologue, iamthekidyouknowwhatimean - Run, Darren Korb - Old Friends)

Zombieman: Dad Music. Old rock that makes you wanna rail some lines of white thunder and dance on top of a car. He’d be reluctant to try out new stuff but does so nevertheless. Just a little bit of weird alternative here and there. (Recs: Poison - Unskinny Bop, Mötley Crüe - Dr. Feelgood, Black Sabbath - War Pigs, Def Leppard - Animal, CRX - Walls, MGMT - Little Dark Age, Pink Floyd - Money, Queens of the Stone Age - Villains of Circumstance)

Drive Knight: Dark synth, obviously. Need I say more? (Recs: El Tigr3 - She Swallowed Burning Coals, Trevor Something - Enjoy the Silence, Greg Drombrowski - Devour, GUNSHIP - Woken Furies, GUNSHIP - Thrasher, Carpenter Brut - Invasion A.D., Kavinsky - Nightcall)

Pig God: this guy probably just listens to ASMR of people eating food lol.

Superalloy Darkshine: Upbeat stuff that’s good for exercise; loving those new jams along with some of the old. He’s got a pretty groovy style. (Diane Ross - Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, Saint Motel - Puzzle Pieces, CRUISR - All Over, Barry White - Never, Never Gonna Give Ya Up, Sade - Kiss of Life)

Watchdog Man: 10 hour loop of wolves howling on a summer night.

Flashy Flash: classical. Some nice instrumentals to listen to while training. Stuff that preferably doesn’t have any or very little lyrics so it’s not too busy on his ears while he’s fantasizing about killing someone. (Recs: Vaughn Williams - The Lark Ascending, Debussy - Rêverie, Grieg - Peace of the Woods, André Laplante - Une Barque sur L’Ocean)

Metal Bat: Modern alternative. A little bit harder than say, Mumen and Kama, but not as hard as Zombieman or Death Gatling. He’s that middle ground where he’s still got some real bangers, but Zenko can listen as well. He’ll play this stuff loudly as he’s doing chores and working out, no headphones ever. It gets pretty annoying. (Recs: Foals - Exits, The Blue Stones - Black Holes, Solid Ground, CRX - Broken Bones, Jungle - Happy Man, The Strokes - Reptilia, We Are Trees - Girlfriend)

Genos: synth. But not just any synth, some heavy, fast-paced synth that’s just like him: speedy, relentless, and powerful. He listens to shit that’ll make you wanna get up and start killing Terminators. Probably. There’s some other synths in the mix too because we love a three-dimensional king. (Recs: Carpenter Brut - Division Ruine, The Protomen - I Still Believe, Carpenter Brut - Leather Teeth, Gunship - Tech Noir, TWRP - Phantom Racer, Le Castle Vania - Red Circle)

Tanktop Master: Dad music but the type of dad music that makes you think your dad was a sappy nerd back in the day. Long tracks that are good for workouts. (Tears for Fears - Woman in Chains, Pink Floyd - Us and Them, Duran Duran - Ordinary World, Billy Idol - Eyes without a Face, A Flock of Seagulls - I Ran, The Alan Parsons Project - Eye in the Sky, Tears for Fears - Sowing the Seeds of Love)

Puri-Puri Prisoner: Pop. Dance music. He doesn’t really get to listen to a lot of music in prison, so he holds on to whatever he can and savors every second of it. (Coldplay - Talk, Bruno Mars - Runaway Baby, Lady Gaga - Bad Romance, Flo Milli - Beef Flomix, Doja Cat - Say So)

Mumen Rider: Hes a lighthearted, soft boy. Likes some fluffy indie tunes. It helps to motivate him when working out or doing hero stuff. He might need to cry every once in a while though, so there’s some sad songs in the mix too. (Recs: Varsity - The Dogs Only Listen to Him, The The - This is the Day, Amarante - Don’t Look Back, Alvvays - Saved by a Waif, The Monkees - As We Go Along, Acid Ghost - Hide my Face, Mogwai - Take Me Somewhere Nice)

Sonic: same as Flash. He’s a little more hip with the times however, so he’s got some more groovy, electronic instrumentals to listen to in addition to some elegant stuff and isn’t opposed to having a little bit of lyrics sprinkled in there as well. In fact, he’s not opposed to uppity pop either. He thinks dancing is frivolous but he secretly does it when he thinks nobody is looking. (Additional Recs: Odesza - Bloom, Pretty Lights - One Day They’ll Know [Odesza Remix], BØRNS - Electric Love, Hembree - Culture, The Cinematic Orchestra - Arrival of the Birds)

Garou: same as Metal Bat. Bang let him have a little MP3 player during his time at the dojo and has since collected a few songs on there. They’re very near and dear to his heart since it’s one of the few good things that came from his absolute disaster of a childhood. (Additional Recs: Foals - Inhaler, CRX - Slow Down, Deep Sea Arcade - Close to Me, Gorillaz - Empire Ants, The Fratellis - Chelsea Dagger, Glass Animals - Take A Slice)

Death Gatling: Shit your old Vietnam-vet grandpa would blast on the back of his F150. He gives me self-righteous asshole vibes, if I’m honest. Like, don’t get me wrong, I like Death Gatling, but he seems like the type of trailer park-dwelling sewer rat to carry a revolver into a Walmart for “self defense” and that’s probably the type of music he listens to, too. (Recs: Megadeth - Trust, Megadeth - Angry Again, Creedence Clearwater Revival - Fortunate Son, Glen Campbell - Southern Nights, Mötley Crüe - Kickstart My Heart, Quiet Riot - Cum on Feel the Noize)

One-Shotter: I hard hc that he had an emo phase he never quite grew out of. He doesn’t quite listen to emo anymore but he’s still into that alternative shit. Homeboy also likes some slow tunes every once and a while because he’s an emotional dude who’s not afraid of a good cry. (Recs: Anything from Blink-182, Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?, MGMT - When You Die, Mazzy Star - Fade Into You, Cigarettes After Sex - Dreaming of You, Yon Ort - Other Matter)

Lightning Max: Same as Genos but without the terminator-killing. Fast-paced stuff because he’s a fast lightning dude. A little more upbeat because he’s not as much as an edgelord as Genos, however. (Additional Recs: Carpenter Brut - Hang’em All, The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize, Worn Tin - Sensitivity, B.E.R. - The Night Begins to Shine, Martin Hall - Different Kind of Love)

Stinger: he’s all about that FUNK! Stuff that gets him moving! Stuff that makes him wanna dance! (Recs: Daft Punk - Doin’ it Right, TWRP - Body Image, Wild Cherry - Play that Funky Music, Chemise - She Can’t Love You, Saga - Wind Him Up, Saga - On the Loose, TWRP - All Night Forever)

Okamaitachi: they give me electro vibes! New, modern shit that’s good to dance to or to just sit down and have a listen! Also, some shit that’ll probably play in a coming-of-age teen movie or something. They don’t really vibe with heavy music and that’s alright, babey! Keeping it light and bouncy. (Recs: Tei Shi - Bassically, Varsity - Must Be Nice, Class Actress - Weekend, CHVRCHES - Richard Pryor, Alvvays - Marry Me, Archie, Sobs - Telltale Signs, Goth Babe - Sometimes, ALASKALASKA - Meateater)

Iaian: Nice, low tunes that are good for meditation and to be used for background noise during training sessions. He never really sits down to listen to music, it’s always in the background of something else he’s doing so he prefers to have some soft beats that don’t really interfere with his senses. Tunes so quiet, he sometimes uses them as lullabies; especially since the trauma of losing his arm has since made it hard to sleep. (Recs: Boy Scouts - Saddest Boy, Susanne Sundfør - Mantra, Vashiti Bunyan - If I Were the Same but Different, Starman Jr. - Blue Fairy, Patrick Watson - Je te Laisserai des Mots, Sibylle Baier - I Lost Something in the Hills)

Bushidrill: same as Atomic Samurai just without the shitty attitude. He’s happy to listen to some newer stuff, he just doesn’t like it and that’s okay, baby! Probably some classy shit your wise old grandpa would listen to. (Recs: Dean Martin - Volare, Dion - The Wanderer, Peppino Gagliardi - Che Vuole Questra Musica Stasera, anything from Luis Miguel lol, Franco Micalizzi - Sadness Theme)

Amai Mask: probably just listens to his own music like a putz. If not, he’s listening to the sound equivalent of glittering diamonds. He’s probably got this shit playing at the end of a long day while he’s chilling in a hot bath or something. (Recs: Fergie - Glamorous, Rita Ora - Hot Right Now, Lana Del Rey - Freak, Lana Del Rey - Art Deco, Tame Impala - Feels Like We Only Go Backwards)

Saitama: He doesn’t listen to music much anymore, sadly. He did, however, have a killer motivational mix to get him through his vigorous training prior to becoming a hero. (Recs: Paul Engemann - Push it to the Limit, Journey - Don’t Stop Believin’, College & Electric Youth - A Real Hero, Joe Esposito - You’re the Best Around, Survivor - Eye of the Tiger, The Bee Gees - Nights on Broadway)

Here’s the playlist with all of these songs in order (mostly):

It’s on YouTube because I’m allergic to Spotify. I’ve got a doctor’s note. Also, all of my other playlists are on my little profile thingy so if you want to listen to my pile then go right ahead.

Thanks for your ask, my dude! ❤️ this took up ALL of my energy lol but it was fun.

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qqueenofhades · 5 years ago

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You know what, I'm feeling nostalgic tonight, so: “Truthfully, this is the fabric of all my fantasies: love shown not by a kiss or a wild look or a careful hand but by a willingness for research.” For Sam/Miranda?

Thanks to @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, I had to go digging in my inbox for this (and lbr it’s from a while ago and I meant to do more prompts and then I didn’t, so you can shame me). BUT. ANYWAY. HAVE SOME SOFTNESS. Set somewhere in my modern hacktivist Sam verse.

The light is on in the kitchen window, filtering out to the garden where they sit, and traffic rumbles past on the road. They have a pile of papers accumulating between them, and Sam keeps glancing down to type things up, fingers clattering over the keys of his latest extremely futuristic laptop. Thomas is out of town again -- he lost Foreign Secretary last year in the election reshuffle, and Miranda is not altogether sorry to see it go, though he maintains the Hamilton Foundation and is presently larking on a yacht with Sir Richard Branson in the name of high-speed internet for underserved communities in Britain -- and it is just the two of them, her and Sam. They’ve been reading these reports for hours, and Miranda straightens, uttering a groan as a crick in her back makes itself regrettably known. “My dear,” she says. “Some tea? Or supper?”

“What?” Sam glances up in surprise, and only then seems to take in the twilight that has fallen among the rosebushes, the darkness in the garden. “Christ,” he says, blinking. “Where did the time go?”

“Where it goes when we’re occupied, I suppose,” Miranda says dryly, as she offers him a hand, and Sam -- ever gallant, and notwithstanding the fact that he is nearly a foot taller than her -- permits her to help him up. They collect the papers and the computers and the other work they’ve been doing to identify the Foundation’s next area of fundraising interest and go inside, to the dim kitchen. Sam offers to help make supper, as always, and as always, she tells him to sit. The lights chase some of the shadows away, and they fall into an easy rhythm of conversation, as always. He looks especially handsome with the black scruff, the loose tendrils from his ponytail, and the new silver earring he’s acquired -- a bit dramatic perhaps, but it suits him. Miranda still sometimes cannot believe this wild, beautiful, independent creature is hers, and it frightens her.

She has almost lost her hesitance about being with Sam while Thomas is gone, as he has assured her it is entirely satisfactory to him, but still sometimes, the fear of it holds her back. Miranda Hamilton loves her husband, after all, and even with the unorthodox lives they have led -- even though Thomas loves Sam too even if not in the same way as her, has seen what they have, has chosen to let it remain between just the two of them, pure and inviolate -- it sometimes cannot help but feel like dishonesty. Sensing her struggle as he always does, Sam glances up. “I can go,” he says gently. “If you wish.”

“I -- no.” Miranda stirs the sauce on the stove, perches on the chair across from him. She raises a hand to push back the brown-grey swoop of her hair, fallen free from its bun. “You know that is not what I want.”

Sam eyes her with utter, unspoken understanding, with the words he has whispered to her so often before -- be kind to yourself, my love -- hanging between them. He reaches out and takes her hands, uncurling the anxious knot of her fingers, massaging her palms, working out the incipient ache of carpal tunnel and the lingering ink stains. When he’s finished, he presses a silent kiss to the back of it, then lets go with an impish wink. “Your sauce is burning.”

Flustered, Miranda leaps to her feet to turn the heat on the hob down, manages to rescue it from disrepute, and constitutes the rest of dinner without incident. They go out back again to eat, London draped in the warm cloak of a summer night, Queen Mab whispering among the hedges and the trees, the glow of the world when it almost seems enchanted and soft and new. Miranda glances sidelong at Sam again, the magnificent etching of his profile against the dimness, and catches him looking back at her. When they have finished eating, he puts down his bowl, then opens his arms without a word. Just as quietly, Miranda gets up, pads over, and sits down on his lap.

Sam wraps his arms around her with a deep sigh, holding her close against the firm strength of his chest, resting his chin on her hair. Miranda leans against him, burying her nose in his collarbone, some of the weariness and strain from the day draining away, the constant struggle that it is to try to help people in any meaningful way at all in this gilded shell game. Part of her wishes that she could leave this Kensington mansion and join Sam in his humble flat in Ealing, or anywhere else. She wishes that she could spread her wings and fly, or sail away into a vast starless sea, and be free of this. She could not leave Thomas behind, not forever. But if she could only breathe --

Once more, Sam can sense her discontent, her restlessness, and he turns his head, pressing a soft kiss into the side of her head. Then he stands up and carries her inside, to the bedroom where he stays -- where they stay, truly -- when he comes to the Hamilton house. He refuses to dishonor Miranda and Thomas by the use of their marital bed, their master bedroom, and Miranda herself feels it is better to remain separate. He pushes through the door, shuts it behind him, and says, “My love, let me make you happy, eh?”

She nods back, nods because she can’t speak, breathless and needing and absurdly halfway to tears, as he unbuttons her blouse, her expensive brassiere, and kisses his way slowly down her shoulders, her chest and breasts and stomach, until he tugs his way past the waistband of her slim-cut trousers. Miranda stands long enough to help him strip them off, and then her underpants (she thinks that she should have worn a nicer pair, the ones with the lace perhaps, but Sam does not notice or care). Then, naked, she sits back down on the bed, as Sam kneels in front of her, spreads her legs, and leans in.

Miranda gulps, gasps, clutches at his hair, as he works with his usual consummate thoroughness and care. He is gentle and relentless in turns, licking and sucking, working her until she is all but a boneless, rubbery-limbed heap and thinks it signally unfair that he is still fully dressed. When he pulls back to breathe properly, she gets to her feet and commences briskly stripping Sam of his clothes, something which has never yet failed to give her deep delight. “Mmm,” he says, teasing, looping her around the waist, straining her neck up for a deep kiss. “I am all yours, darling.”

“Good,” Miranda says, as he toes his last sock off, and it is only them in nothing but their skins, entwined in the dimness, their hair falling loose around their shoulders. He lifts her like a leaf and lays her out on the bed, but Miranda rises up, rolls him over, and pushes him down on his back. He goes at once, delighted to be wherever she wishes him, and his hands grip her hips, lifting her atop him, and then as they both gasp, into her.

They make love as they always do, both slow and sweet and fast and deep, roughness and romance in turns, as he worships her and fills her and makes her whole, and Miranda closes her eyes and holds her breath because still, even now, she is afraid that she will wake up, and it will never have been at all. Sam smooths his callused palms over her arms, her sides, her thighs, the knobs of her spine, the curve of her arse. He muses kisses at the secret spot behind her ear that makes her melt, and more than she feels her mouth can stand to bear. She loves him beyond any common word or sense or feeling for it, anything that seems proper or sane or ordinary. She loves him until it burns.

In the end, they wear themselves out, lie together gasping and giggling and entangling their fingers, exchanging sleepy kisses, still wanting to be close so long as they are awake. But the night comes on, very deep now, and there is more to come in the morning, more research, more battles, more fights to make anyone give a damn what they say. When once again, they must rise up like the sun, and somehow do this again. Miranda does not know how.

And yet, she does not need to. For Sam Bellamy is with her, and she with him, and that is all that matters. And so it is thus that she can close her eyes, and let go, and sleep.

#sam x miranda #black sails au #oh look my feelings #extasiswings #ask

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ripplesofaqua · 4 years ago

Text

Chocolate Box Exchange 2021 Letter

Dear Author/Artist,

Thank you for creating something for me! I cannot wait to see what you come up with! Please write/draw whatever you are most comfortable with, and feel free to follow your own ideas. But if you are in need of some prompts for inspiration, here are a few things I like (and dislike):

DNWs: major character death, underage, incest, non/dub-con, depictions of abuse/homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc, whitewashing or straightwashing, excessive gore/torture/violence, serious illness, body horror, A/B/O, hardcore bdsm/kink, bestiality, infidelity, angst without at least a hopeful ending

Feel free to write whatever rating you’re comfortable with. If you do write smut, I tend to prefer it on the slightly less graphic side, and always with clear communication and lots of feels and tenderness

Things I enjoy: strong ladies and admiration between them, fluff, banter, angst with a hopeful ending, humor, balanced and respectful relationships, tenderness, mutual pining, slow burn, repressed feelings, (rivals to) friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, loneliness, oh no there’s only one bed, huddling for warmth, secret admirer, long awaited reunions, Victorian/historical AU, stoic/grumpy person who is soft inside falls for ray of sunshine. writing letters, first meetings and reunions, found family, small touches with lots of meaning, sparring together, dancing together, creative worldbuilding, characters learning to work through their differences

Prompts: I tried to include lots of pairings, so that there would be plenty of options to chose what you’re most comfortable with. I hope it’s not too overwhelming! I love all these pairings, so please choose what you would enjoy creating for the most. If it helps jumpstart things, here are a few ideas and things I like most about these characters, but this is all optional of course!

1. Dragon Age

Cassandra Pentaghast being stoic and badass but also being a hopeless romantic underneath and struggling to express that

Cassandra working to rebuild the Seeker’s into something truly better, and perhaps pining/sending letters to a loved one while away

Leliana and/or Josephine’s early years, perhaps while in Val Royeaux as bard/ambassador

Leliana learning to let herself love and be loved

smutty novels (and their authors and the people they are a based on!)

Svarah Sun-Hair being an amazing leader but also having a subtle sense of humor

the Avvar in general - and their very warm-looking hoods

feel free to throw all the tropes at these:only one bed, huddling for warmth, banter, hurt/comfort, all sorts of shenanigans, Victorian AU’s - have fun!

2. Original Work

I don’t have much that’s super specific for these, but all of my general likes and dislikes would apply here

alternatively, feel free to use these as AU ideas for any of the other fandom pairings listed

3. Emelan

Rosethorn and Lark first meeting while working as healers during a disease outbreak (which hits a lot differently these days, honestly)

Rosethorn having a soft spot for starlings and caring for nestlings (and children, for that matter)

creative worldbuilding/magic use

Daja getting a happy ending with someone

found families (esp Rosethorn referring to Briar as “my boy”)

4. Tortall

Thayet and Buri before they came to Tortall, or how they adjusted to living there

George Cooper being a scarily competent rogue with a heart of gold underneath

shenanigans, esp with trying to avoid parties and between the King’s Own/Queen’s Riders

Raoul being Raoul (and also his really wonderful friendship/mentorship with Kel)

banter

found family

interesting worldbuilding with magic, immortals, history & culture, etc

5. Persuasion

allllll the mutual pining across years and oceans

Anne (and those around her) realizing her worth and escaping her shitty family

romantic letter writing and communication of emotion

Anne getting to travel and go on adventures

Sophia Croft being badass and independent-minded, and being encouraging to Anne

Sophia recounting the adventures she’s been on (or alternatively, embarrassing stories about her brother)

if it would help to have more reference, I am especially a fan of the 1995 movie adaptation (but don’t feel like you have to reference that in any way)

6. Critical Role

Kima and Allura backstory: adventuring together, with all the triumph and pain that came along, and also their relationship/breakup

all the mutual pining

sending letters from afar

worrying about each other but not being entirely free to express that

opposites attract

Erathis and the Wildmother being lovers, but then falling out - it would be interesting for them to find a way to balance civilization and nature - and rebuild their relationship stronger than before

perhaps they need some help from their followers - who also end up falling for each other?

7. The Mandalorian

Grogu being Grogu

all the found family!!!

bonding over shared trauma, loss of home/people, beings responsible for rebuilding from almost nothing, learning to lead, etc

learning from each other’s cultures in rebuilding their own (and esp Luke rebuilding the Jedi in a way that’s more humane for children/not completely trying to erase all attachments)

force bonds, and all the potential benefits that might come along

blindfolds

small physical gestures (holding hands, touching a cheek) carrying lots of meaning

all the mutual pining (this seems to be a theme, doesn’t it XD)

#exchange letter

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whatyouareafraidtotake · 5 years ago

Text

I have a broken heart, like lead plugging an entryway. Your fingers slip into the fabric of it’s erratic beating.

I remember the first time my body felt birds fly into windows. My chest was sweating, it was summer, my eyes were still heavy with sleep. Molasses as I tried to lift myself from the bed. Heavy tides of sheets around my shaking limbs. And the birds laid down below the glass like fallen dancers. They melted in the snow and by spring their bones ground to dirt.

The rotten smell it festered away.

Hot ears on my chest so he could hear what I felt, those angry flutters pounding the pane. He laughed and told me there was no reason to be nervous, he was not the top of a roller coaster. I did not know how to tell him. I have a broken heart but it was not his.

Years later I was dreaming I was a statue in a garden. And vines began to take over me. I became the soul of a botanical machine. This parasitic algae fed on my blood and the worms drank at it’s roots. And then the birds with their shrieking flew out from the sun. My eyes opened slowly as I felt the glass shatter.

And then I heard the rain it burned like acid The dark lark bounded Beating its wing to ash. Blue doctors poured over the diagnosis that would stop this bloody molting. Anemia queen, anxiety that caused breathlessness, or overheating. The cold metal stethoscope was a slow creature.

My mother laid down on a table washed by fluorescent ceilings. I imagined all of the ways I had separated myself from her. I never smoked a cigarette and refused to get tan. I read a mountain of books and never practiced sewing. I never gambled and avoided bad men. I quickly scratched away at the genes like Scarlett fever. Those spiny feet how they scarred.

“Has your heart ever rattled oak trees?”

As I looked into the mirror I saw the same hair and eyes and mouth and nose. Fixed on a body cold laid still so young. This evil reflection was a pessimistic oracle. My future laid out blue and ragged. The crows devoured her body and flew out from the flames.

I know. I have a broken heart and it was hers.

My secret origins sang as I came home again. A cacophony of wings beating against cold glass. The sudden rush of death shattered soft bones that beat against pavement. This matriarchy bares a Scarlett letter carved into the chest.

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shiftingpath · 8 years ago

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Top 5 Manus moments

5) Arriving in the first Karnese hold and interrupting whatwas becoming a slow negotiation by sparking the Thane’s imagination with theidea of Elmira making her an unbreakable gate in a day. That was enough to buythem lodgings, but Manus was totally unfamiliar with living without his ownresources, so immediately sold her again on Lark charming the spirits intokeeping her hold safe and comfortable in winter. He spent the next month going,“Shit, I don’t have a third display to show off for myself,” and worrying aboutwhat he’d do while going to check out the cool Excalibur legend sword embeddedin a tree outside the hall. On the night they were feasting Lark’saccomplishment, he went outside and pulled it, making himself a legend. (Okay,it took several hours of investigation, spelunking, and his man lowering himdown a well. But he still accomplished it almost accidentally, and prettyfast.)

4) He’d been anxious and concerned about trying to retakeTowersong from the Wyld Hunt. When the time came, his first job was to free hisdad, and he was so exultant on getting A HUG FROM HIS DAD omg. The Wyld Huntleader set fire to the city, and Manus had to go put it out, but he was so hypestill that once he had, riding on his giant bird elemental holding Towersong’sflag, he swooped a couple times over the city crying out “FREEDOM! FREEDOM FORTOWERSONG!” Now he’s super embarrassed to think about how carried away he got.

3) Manus: (long strategy meeting) Okay Lark, I have to tellyou I’m super tapped at the moment. Most of my energy is entirely devoted tostymying the Wyld Hunt and (Karn rival) Bloodaxe. I’m not sure how much use I’llbe in the next fight, so just keep in mind I don’t have much to me.Manus: (next fight) vanishes from conversation without anyone noticing, sneaksup on ancient ghost queen, steals her crown and throws it to Elmira to shatter,turning ghost queen’s enslaved army against her, kills ghost queen in two hitsLark: Okay, I guess, whatever you say

2) After fighting their way through like hundreds of ants, dozens of centaur ants, an ant dragon, and a Lunar, his dad giving him a hug and keeping his arm aroundManus’ shoulders and telling him he fought like a true Dynast, aka Manus’happiest moment ever in his life

1) In first limit break, realizing their plan to restoregoodwill in the city was going to fail because Lark had knocked out hisopponent in a big showpiece duel, when they were secretly supposed to unite andtake a bigger foe on together. Manus totally out of character flamboyantlyannouncing himself as taking his teacher’s place and duelling Lark in front of the city until theirscheduled opponent arrived… except now Lark is super excited and not holdingback and they almost lose to this giant flaming war bull because they’ve beatenthe crap out of each other first. Then when the bull retreats, a literal armyof ghosts is waiting to take them on, this wasn’t part of the plan, Manusnearly dies, Lark nearly dies, they defeat the ghosts with Elmira and Savoy. Thewatching town erupts in cheers, Manus and Lark hang off each other with theirarm around each other’s shoulders, crying laughing, Manus’ nose is broken andbloody from Lark headbutting him before but holy shit, what a good moment. “Sorryabout your face!” Lark yells over the din. “Fuck you!” Manus returnsgood-naturedly. Best brothers-in-arms moment, BURNING FIST vs DRAGON’S SON

#towersong #top 5 #path asks #omg thank you for these M #really fun questions

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archivesdiveronaevents · 8 years ago

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DATE: January 25, 2017

LOCATION: The Castelvecchio Bridge

TIME: 2:45 AM

If one were to take a walk on the bridge, one might think gaily of the serenity of their settings -- the stars kissing the dark dome of the sky, a romantic detail often missed because of the warm, yellow light that engulfed Verona at this hour. A person would coo over the chill that made their breath puff in the air, they would sigh over the sound of their shoes clipping against the aged cobblestone streets. Their gaze would linger on the scenes that played out in the windows. Looking to the left, one would see the darkness of a bar set to close, the tender wearily wiping away the assortment of liquors that no doubt stained the counter-top as she made shy conversation with the woman who gazed at her, their fingers glancing upon each other occasionally. When looking right, one would find a baker and her husband, eyes red and movements bumbling, getting ready to make the embellishments of an opulent wedding cake fit for a queen. It is difficult not to be swept away by the romance of Verona, its beauty and its brilliant wonder that calls all lovers like a lark to its mate.

Just as it is difficult not to be swept away by the blood that runs through its streets.

A wayfarer going through Verona would not notice the man on the bridge who wears no coat, no jacket. No, all he wears is a dress shirt and black pants, both so fine in threading that one could make no mistake that it was made for a king. He certainly looked the part too, what with his gold-plated cufflinks, embellished with rubies glinted so brightly one might have thought them for drops of blood, and his golden ring that gleamed with the crest revered by all in the western city. The cold may bite at his skin; the fog may kiss it, but he does not seem to notice with his gaze that looks eastward across the river, calculating and covetous in the way that he stares. A romantic would think that he was a scorned lover, the city being the object of his affections. What else would such a man be doing at the ungodly hours of the night, but concocting a plan that would surely win his lover’s adoration? But the city had been scourged of such romantics mere weeks ago by the hand of none other than the jacketless man who stood atop the bridge.

After a couple of minutes he checked his watch, looking up to glance around, eyes narrowed as if he could pierce the darkness that lay between the yellow lamplight. At this time of night, one would have expected fear, apprehension even, to lace the man’s mannerisms. A twitch of the fingers, a blink of the eye. But such things were lacking, instead a person would only find impatience in the way that he smoothed his shirt ( impeccable, save for the slight, almost imperceptible, wrinkle of the fabric ) and dragged from his cigarette, smoke curling in the air as if it could not wait to dissipate.

“Damiano.”

The cadence of syllables broke the silence that hung on the bridge, catching the attention of the Montague boss as he crushed the cigarette underfoot. His lips curled into a smile, less sincere than one that might have been found on his son’s features. Perhaps it was because sincerity was no longer part of his vocabulary -- unless it meant sincerely wishing vengeance upon those who dared to defy him.

“Cosimo,” the Montague boss greeted.

And so emerged the Capulet boss from the shadows, hands held behind his back as he strolled towards his adversary. An adversary declared by Fate. An adversary confirmed by deeds. An adversary made dangerous by the ruthlessness that was demonstrated on a day that was once considered sacred. Taking one slow, clipped step after the other, he made his way from the shadows until he stood face-to-face with Damiano, one face as unreadable as the other.

They both were quiet as a pair of lovers, emerging from the darkness of the alley, made their way down the bridge, oblivious in their heady affection to the gods that stood mere feet away. (Look closer and see how the Montague boss glances at them for a mere second longer than the Capulet boss does, eyes reminiscent and longing. Were not gods merely humans deified?)

“Cigarette?” Damiano offered, a roguish smile painting across his face as he held up the carton. “I always like to have a smoke before I begin negotiations.”

The two men leaned over the railing of the bridge, the yellow light of the lamps casting dark shadows over their faces -- a shadow softened by the orange burn of their cigarettes. There was a silence that settled between them as the smoke was exhaled from their lips in tandem, their shared moments neither beginning nor ending there. Who was more similar to the king of Verona than the king he contended with?

“You know I didn’t kill Alvise,” Cosimo said, effectively breaking the quiet of the night.

“Am I supposed to take you on your word?”

“I am a man of tradition, Damiano. There has always been an unspoken agreement of boundaries -- how far we’re allowed to push one another. Any man who would dare to break such a thing must be driven by nothing other than pure madness.”

“Empty words from a man with a forked tongue,” the Montague boss taunted, the downward curl of his lips betraying the disbelief better than his words did. Flicking the ashes off the end of his cigarette, he glanced at the Capulet boss, fingers twitching imperceptibly. Trigger finger? Possibly. “But what’s done is done.”

“It’s not as if I expected our negotiations to make up for the blood that was lost at the hand of your mongrels.”

“If you did, then you would be as naive as your daughter.”

A silence followed, punctuated occasionally by the sound of Cosimo grinding his teeth.

“Did I strike a nerve, mio amico?”

“No more than you usually do, Damiano, no more than you usually do.”

A dark chuckle echoed in the night, slipping from Damiano’s lips as easily as cigarette smoke. It was easy to see why so many people were drawn to him, were drawn to the warmth of the fire that burned within. When compared with Cosimo’s cool exterior, as if the man were more Romanesque statue than flesh and blood, the contrast of the personalities was startling -- was dangerous. Everyone speaks romantically of the story of fire and ice, thinking of nothing but the tender warmth of a flame and the soothing kiss of ice. They sigh over the beauty of the poetry, they croon over the cadence of the vowels. But when they open their windows to see a world besieged by fire and frost, they do nothing but cower at the reality of it all.

Just as Verona cowered before the feet of the two men smoking on the ancient bridge.

“We need to soothe the witches’ bruised egos,” Damiano murmured, flicking the butt of the cigarrette over the bridge.

“We need to do nothing,” Cosimo said, his tone indicating that his hands were not dirtied by any crime. “The Capulets have been convicted of nothing.”

“Except murdering my underboss and stabbing one of my best captains,” the Montague boss responded, not bothering to hide the growl in his voice. Was Cosimo capable of such bald-faced lies?

“Innocent until prove guilty.”

“Do you want me to stick your soldiers’ heads on pikes and declare Verona a place of war?”

“As if it had ever been a place of peace.”

“Cosimo.”

“You bruised their egos, Damiano, not me. If I join you in these negotiations I’m declaring myself and my people guilty when we have committed no crime.”

“Get off of your high horse before I knock you off of it, Capulet.” Damiano spat, hands curling into fists as he turned towards the boss of the east, his lips peeling back so as to bare his teeth. Rabid hounds looked less menacing than Damiano Montague when worked into a rage. “Innocent or guilty, we have no quarrel with the witches, only each other. We need to demonstrate our remorse -- and either you do this willingly or unwillingly. Unwillingly: the witches will know and you will find their hand around your throat. Willing: my hand will be at your throat rather than theirs.”

Cosimo stood quiet, dark, guarded eyes watching the man that now stood nose-to-nose with him. The water below them whispered of something hidden, the moon above yearning to cast light upon the darkness that engulfed them both. The Capulet boss’ head canted to the side, his face unreadable as he waited for the man to step back -- and slowly, ever so slowly he did.

The water quieted, the moon hid once more.

“Fine,” Cosimo stated, flicking what remained of his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his heel. A pause followed as the Capulet boss slid his hands into his pockets, his lips settling into a leering smirk. “Why not tell me the details of your elaborate plan? You’ve clearly thought about such things much longer and more thoroughly than I have.”

Damiano’s eyes narrowed, a similar smile playing at his lips -- like a child who has just gotten his younger sibling to play along with a terribly wicked game. “What do you say to having those who usually fight with words fight with their fists?”

“You mean to say you want me to pit my advisor against yours?”

“Ah, good,” the Montague boss murmured, sharply tugging at the ends of his sleeves. “I thought I would have had to lead you there myself.”

“This is madness, Damiano, even for you. My advisor is a child. She’s as young as my daughter.”

“More ruthless and merciless than your daughter, from what I’ve heard.”

“Granted,” Cosimo admitted, his brows still furrowed in disbelief. “But your advisor would beat her senseless.”

“Would he? From what I’ve heard he has a rather soft, vulnerable part in him that needs to be exposed and... modified.”

“Rafaella does not need to be reprimanded in such a manner.”

“But she does need to repent for offending the witches on multiple occasions -- “

“ -- I told you, Damiano, we had nothing to -- “

“ -- which is why our advisors can bear the sins of both mobs and redeem us by being publicly crucified. The witches love blood, so why not give them the blood of the most guilty out of all of us?”

“Absolute madness…” Cosimo breathed, the protest in his voice gone -- replaced with resignation.

“Alexander counsels sin after sin -- as I’m sure Rafaella does as well. I suggest we meet in neutral territory for this.”

“Do you think the witches would let us anywhere near their premises? Why don’t we use that new place -- The Dark Lady -- the owner knows neither of us, nor do we know them.”

“I was not thinking of such a high profile place, Cosimo.”

“You surely can’t be suggesting we -- “

“-- Meet at il bar Griffone? Yes, I was.”

“We will be murdered before we even step through the door. You know that those... people despise us.”

“It will guarantee that they’ll kill us sooner than we will kill each other. Besides, you have your connections with that Underworlder -- what’s his name? Orca?”

“Don’t act as if you don’t know Orpheus Ahulani’s name.”

“Ah, yes, that’s his name. The bitter man of the Ahulani household…” Damiano murmured, a reminiscent smile flashing across his face -- gone so quickly that one might have thought it was a trick of the light.

There was a pause as the two men quieted, the weight of their discussions settling upon them as heavily as the darkness that encroached upon the sitting. It drowned each crevice that wasn’t touched upon by the light. Cosimo’s hand swept over his face, as if he could simply remove his weariness by this action alone. His Montague counterpart leaned over the wall, looking over the water once more -- fingers lacing together, thumb tapping erratically as he waited for Cosimo to break the silence.

“So then what is this? A public persecution? A crucifixion?” Cosimo finally asked, staring at Damiano’s profile. How could he look so calm, so serene, at a time like this?

“Let’s call it an exposition, mio amico. It’s befitting, don’t you think? I mean -- what’s more beautiful and artistic than man in his most savage form?”

ADDITIONAL: It’s nice to see the bosses being so civil when negotiating a ceasefire, don’t you think? The Montagues and the Capulets announced the exposition to their members later the very same morning. Everyone knows that this a show of remorse for offending the witches, just as they also know that Alexander and Rafaella cannot both survive this “exposition”. The Underworld of Verona will be hosting this showdown, the Bar Grifone will be the venue of this showdown -- their basement, having seen numerous fights of the same order, would be able to house the amount of people who were invited to come and watch. One might have thought there would be a calm before this storm, but instead everything seems more chaotic, more prone to fights. Montagues and Capulets are biting at their bits to see this all go down, but stop themselves just before their loyalty to their mob bosses can be called into question.

TIMELINE: Please date all your threads between JANUARY 25TH and FEBRUARY 2ND. The Exposition will take place on Friday, February 3rd, so please do not hold any threads on that date or after that date until the next plot progression occurs.

TASK: As previously mentioned, the Montagues and the Capulets are at each other’s throats now more than ever -- unsatisfied by the fact that they’re being forbidden to fight one another because their advisers are fighting for them. Whether or not your character likes it, they’re going to be caught in a fight. Your task is to write out a fight scene with another player -- your character may be doing so as an act of self defense OR write out a fight scene as a self para with an NPC. Verona is a place of war, after all. Periods of peace are overrated.

#act i; scene v #lsrpg #shakespeare rp

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activatingaggro · 8 years ago

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SINCE YOU HAVE GIVEN YOUR BLESSING FOR THE AWFULNESS: "Can I?" for ID and Laledy!

CW: Age gap, ID being oblivious and then terrible.

You never thought much about it, but Laledy’s about Bonnie’s age, isn’t he?

It’s not like he’s got the sort of face that invites that sort of comparision! Bonnie’s all bone and sinew, sure, just like him, but every ounce of her is pure muscle. You’ve seen the sort of damage she can do! She might not be through her adult molt yet. She’s still all adolescent gangle, with the sort of lankiness you can’t figure if it’s youth or real. But no one’s ever going to try to sell her school-feeds.

On the other hand, Laledy’s got the sort of face that makes him look like he still belongs in the caverns.

But that doesn’t mean much! Raphae was still sporting gray eyes until barely a sweep ago, and the last time you saw a picture of him, he’s only just outgrowing them. Highbloods age strange, that’s the problem with them. You’ll be dead before Bonnie starts going gray. Chances are, you’ll be long dead before this sprout stops looking like a pupa.

He isn’t quite her age. But he’s close enough! And Empress only knows she needs more friends.

“Grubadee, have I ever told you about my moirail?” you ask him, and at the other end of the table, he starts like you just hit him.

“Moirail? Wait, uh – you have quadrants?”

Well! That’s not the response you were expecting.

Instead of responding, you take a long sip of your tea. Taking Laledy out for lunch had been a lark. Why not drag the little cullbait out on a proper outing at night, for once, and do your good deed for the sweep? Let him get some proper moonlight on his skin before he burns it all off! He’d been excited when you first mentioned it. Downright pleased, really, and he’d only made two jokes about buying his favour.

(Still two too many! Slap some paint on this boy and you’d think he was a

clown, sometimes, his sense of humor is so awful.)

But he’s been acting strange about it the entire morning twilight, dragging his feet and bouncing in turn. You’d figured it was nerves! Sipara never liked buggies, the first few times she drove in one. But you’ve been at the cafe for nearly two hours now, it’s nearly dawn, and his mood still hasn’t settled any.

Of all the ways it might swing, though, you didn’t figur ehe was going to go off and get all rude on you. But you don’t even have time to tell him he gets to rephrase that before he’s already scrambling. “For reals, tho! Like, not even gonna lie, I totes thought you were, like, doin’ the lone ranger shizz, between like - the whole pancrackin’, and the code-monkeying.”

“It’s, like, thematic,” he hazards, chewing on his lip.

“Calm your spheres, sugargrub. I’m not offended,” you lie, setting down your cup. He visibly relaxes back into his chair. There’s just something so fucking sad about the relief in his grin: he’s Bonnie’s age, sure, but you’re pretty darn certain she’d never scrape for your approval like this.

“So. Uh. You have quadrants.” He says it like it’s some big surprise.

“Did I say quadrants? Shame on you, sprout, don’t put words in my mouth!” You click your tongue at him. “I have a moirail, sugarplum. Don’tcha know, our fine lady Q doesn’t require the rest of ‘em?”

The cafe’s owned by some girl like Taylor, a blueblood with her nose all the way up in places it shouldn’t be. No one even bats an ear the letter, or mention of ladies: half of the folks here look well past Conscription, and you know all of them can’t be imperials. It’s one of the only places you can mention the Queenpin without risking your neck!

Not that it stops Laledy from looking side to side, like drones are about to pop out from under the tableclothes. “LIke, what, no pitch-mate?” he asks, curious, and there’s something strange in his voice. Amusement? If he starts laughing, you might very well just leave him here. You don’t understand pupas. “For

reals? And no flush? Not even ash?”

You blink at him.

“.. no~oo. ‘fraid not!” You slide your empty glass forward, and then wave for a waiter. This is the sort of place that Raphae used to take you to after shows, and the sort of place you’ve missed, since coming back to Alternia. You don’t get to drag Bonnie out here often: she gets a little too restless to sit still this long, for all that it’s nicer than her flavor of ice-cream parlors.

Different tastes, you suppose. No one’s getting shot here, sure, but they took your chip at the door, so all you have to do is leave.

A little less excitement’s worth that sort of luxury!

“Is it that shocking?” You snort. “I’m flattered,” you add, amused, “that you think I’m just such an amazing commodity that my squares are just flying off the shelves, sweetheart. So flattered. Downright touched.”

He doesn’t laugh. But he does smile, a little weakly. “Dunno about flying off,” he snarks. “I mean, shizz, pal, you ain’t even got a sweater on. Thought knitwear was, like, your thing?”

“It is, it is.” The smile, the gab: he’s back into an upswing, thank the Empress. You’ll dump him at Taylor’s before he can drop back down. He’s just not very entertaining like this, when he’s acting like he’s being cowed at every corner. “But alas, my finest cardigans are all with my dear bluebonnet right now. Which ist o say, my dearest, most beloved and bedraggled of moirails. She’s probably ripping holes into them right now,” you say, mournful as you stand up. “Bless her heart. She likes adventure. And she’s your age - have I mentioned that?”

“I was thinking, sweetheart, the two of you ought to meet! You’ve both got such unique senses of humor, bless your little biscuits. Why, you’d get along like a house on fire.”

“.. um. You want me to meet your moirail? Like, won’t that be, hella awks?” A beat. “Or does she, like, not mind -” He’s standing up, but now he pauses. For a second, you think he’s going to gesture at his eyes. “- she work for mizz QP, too?” is what he settles on instead. He’s following your lead, stepping neatly around the table as you slip back on your jacket. The slide of his cane on the carpet is very nearly inaudible. “Or is she, like, the local, law-respectin’ sort?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you drawl, heading towards the door. “Don’t you know, my little sprout, that’s just my type? Law-abiding, proper imperial citizens only! No criminals, no cull-bait, certainly no girls with perfectly illegal transportation —”

Laledy’s been on your heels the entire way out of the cafe, the solid clack of his cane on the concrete behind you a ready reminder to keep your pace slow. But you’re still several steps from your buggy when you realise the sound has disappeared, and he isn’t actually following. You exhale, rolling your eyes up, and then spin to face him. “Laledy!” you say, sharp. “Sugargrub! What in the world is your -”

“So, um, is this, like, a date?” Laledy blurts out.

Well.

“Oh, shit. Uh, not that it’s gotta be - I mean, ‘course it ain’t, what’m I thinking, fancy food ‘n all is just, like - I was just -”

He doesn’t pause when you hold up a hand. He doesn’t stop when you clear your throat. But when you snap: “Laledy!” with just a touch of fang to it, he stops so quickly he nearly bites his tongue.

”Clearly,” you say, once he’s quieted down, “you want it to be! And who am I to crush your dreams?” Something about this seems a bit strange. But he’s very nearly Bonnie’s age, for all that he’s pupa-faced, and his eyes, if they weren’t blind, would be green. So it’s only a little outrageous, you suppose. “So, to answer your little question - before you went entirely off the rails - why not? You can get in the car, by the way!”

”Unless you’re planning on making this lot your new home. I mean, I guess it is nice, but just between the two of us, miss Queene’s couch is just a wee bit nicer.”

You linger by the car door as he clicks his way over, then you pull it open for him, holding out a hand to take his cane. “Here,” you say, and the look he gives you - wide-eyed, alarmed - earns him a laugh. “I’m helping, sugarhorns! Tell you what, I’ll even give it back when you get hive, how’s that?”

This is nicer than you would be in any other circumstances! But if you’re evidently just making his night, then there’s no point in doing it halfway. And the startled doe look is worth it.

”Hey! Uh, ID. Wait.” You’re sliding the cane into the seat behind him, but now you pause. Laledy’s worrying his lip, scratching at the side of his neck like he’s about to say something interesting. Tonight’s been full of surprises: you can’t even imagine what’s going through his pan, and you’re too amused to even want to guess.

.. not that you can help it. Maybe he’s figuring out a way to let you down gently! Break your poor pumpbiscuit over his accusations of a date, let you know he just doesn’t feel that way, bless your heart. The thought’s endearing. And he certainly looks anxious enough for it.

You’re already thinking of a witty rejoinder when he blurts out: “– can I kiss you?”

Well. Isn’t that just precious?

”No,” you tell him, amused.

You don’t even finish the word before he’s deflating. His cheeks flood green, then his face. His ears pull back and down. “I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says, but not the last: the rest of his words are practically a slurry, they’re so mixed up, falling on top of each other like he can’t even be bothered to keep them straight. “I’m a dumbass! Soz, soz, sorry -”“- you didn’t let me finish, you little cactus.” The first laugh had him quieting. The second one got you a frown, and now he’s looking – confused, still, but belligerent! Serves him right. Laledy’s mystifying, but he’s amusing, too, even when his mood keeps spinning every time you blink. “Stop writhing,” you order. “You can’t kiss me, but I’ll tell you what, dearheart -”

When you grab his chin, it fits neatly between your thumb and your forefinger. And when you lift his face up, he doesn’t object, just makes some queer sound at the back of his throat. “- I will kiss you. How’s that?”

”Yeah,” he breathes, shaky. “Okay.”

#[drabbles]#cw: age gap #laledy is NOT actually bonnie's age #ID just doesn't give enough of a damn to have registered his age beyond 'younger than me'#because: awful. AWFUL.#anonymonster

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devils-gatemedia · 8 years ago

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How can you talk about Blue Öyster Cult without mentioning the C-word? With great difficulty. No matter how many times you see it, the Saturday Night Live skit with Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken still hits the spot. Someone posts on social media that they are under the weather or have a fever? Blam, they get the clip sent to them, or one of many numerous Walken memes about cowbell, being the only prescription. So, leading up to these brace of live dates, memes about “more cowbell” were on constant rotation as Blue Öyster Cult made a flying visit to these shores. Before the rock legends took to the stage, Jared James Nichols was tasked with warming up the crowd, and you guessed it, he also brought his cowbell..

Wisconsin born guitar slinger, Nichols is one of the new breed of blues rock players coming through the ranks, bringing with him a certain degree of piss and vinegar. A genre that can sometimes be quite stale, blues rock needs new blood to keep it relevant, and Nichols is dragging it kicking and screaming into modern times. To use a sporting cliché, it’s what Nichols does when he doesn’t have the ball that makes him stand out. When he isn’t strangling his Gibson to within an inch of its life on numerous solos, he’s keeping it simple and allowing the song to breath, new song ‘Don’t Be Scared’ being a great example. A slow burning, smouldering, bone cruncher of a tune, it begins with some simple, beefy chords that demand your attention before the song settles into its head bobbing groove. After a few moments of restraint, Nichols lets rip with one of many incredible solos. Never flash or overplayed, it’s an admirable trait that is in short supply these days. Another newer track, ‘Don’t You Try’, is a great example of how much this power trio is a band. Bassist Erik Sandin provides some cool harmonies as well as helping Nichols out with call and response vocals, all the while playing the living hell out of his bass. At the back sits drummer Dennis Holm, the machine. A mass of hair and flailing arms, he hits with force and is a joy to watch. Nichols is no slouch either, his vocals have come on leaps and bounds since 2015’s debut album, ‘Old Glory and The Wild Revival’, while his playing gets better with each outing. Authentic playing that has seen his stock rise and become the “goto” guy when bands are looking for an opener to give them a run for their money. With his time drawing to a close, Nichols leads the band into a storming cover of ‘Mississippi Queen’, and Holm unlocks the cowbell. Cue mass cries of “more cowbell!”… New album, ‘Black Magic’, is due in September, and on tonight’s evidence, looks like being a belter. Catch Nichols this July with UFO, as well as slots at Ramblin’ Man Fair and Steelhouse Festival.

Celebrating 45 years since the release of their self titled debut album, it’s only fitting that Blue Öyster Cult begin with the opening track from the 1972 debut, and so ‘Transmaniacon MC’ kicks off a trip down memory lane that had the audience in raptures from the word go. From the debut the band fast forward five years to the metal-tastic titled ‘Golden Age Of Leather’, complete with the acapella intro and the opening lyrics that most of the crowd can identify with.. “Raise your can of beer on high and seal your fate forever, our best years have passed us by… the golden age of leather”. Guitarist Buck Dharma still sounds amazing after all these years and makes this guitar playing lark look effortless when the song speeds up midway through. The instantly recognisable intro of ‘Burning For You’ features more vintage Dharma as the band breaks into one of their biggest hits. There are killer harmonies throughout, and Dharma handles the lead vocals with aplomb. The guitarist also handles lead vocals on ‘Then Came The Last Days Of May’, which sees Richie Castellano step up to the plate and deliver a jaw-dropping guitar solo. It’s amazing to watch Dharma taking a step backwards to allow Castellano his moment in the spotlight. After a glorious few minutes the guitarists swap places and Dharma comes front and centre and lets fly. Serious guitar fireworks from two talented musicians that people were still talking about on the way out.

Vocalist Eric Bloom is in fine voice throughout the evening, although he is taking his life in his hands wearing shades in one of the darkest venues in the country. Despite the ABC having the largest mirror ball in Europe, it has a fear of turning on anything resembling a bright light. Watching the lead vocalist of the headlining act wander about on stage wearing shades leads to a few winces as he walks forward to the edge of the stage. Guys, turn on some lights, eh? We aren’t Gremlins y’know. Bloom is also in fine fettle throughout the evening, telling the audience “Let’s play some rock n’ roll as there is a disco in here after… so rev up your motorcycle, grab your woman, and grab a beer!” Or when introducing ‘Harvest Moon’… ”We like a bit of audience participation, so what would you like to hear? ‘Shark’ or ‘Harvest Moon’?…’Harvest Moon’ it is then..”. The climax of the set really is a testament to the amazing back catalogue of Blue Öyster Cult. ‘Tattoo Vampire’, ‘Godzilla’, ‘Astronomy’ and ‘Cities On Flame With Rock And Roll’ all have the crowd beaming ear to ear, but of course the loudest cheers are for, what else but, ‘(Don’t Fear) The Reaper’, which sadly is a cowbell free zone! No cowbell? Denied, man! Even without the C-word, it’s still a fantastic romp that sets off mass singalongs and bro-hugs that can only be seen at classic rock gigs. Strangers are high fiving each other, slapping backs, and showing genuine emotion at the airing of a bonafide rock classic. Let’s face it, that’s what life is all about isn’t it?

Review – Dave Stott

Images – Dave Jamieson

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Live Review: Blue Öyster Cult – ABC Glasgow How can you talk about Blue Öyster Cult without mentioning the C-word? With great difficulty. No matter how many times you see it, the Saturday Night Live skit with Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken still hits the spot.

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