#'Brioso! Brioso!' ( In-Character )

[photog-crafty]

If this Hakuchou could tell stories, they would fill a library. This motorcycle was my flesh and blood for years. I had other bikes for stunting, yes, but this one was my daily driver as nothing could match its speed. My friends even raced me with helicopters, following the same courses Forza Horizon style, and it was neck-and-neck every time. What really made the Hakuchou so engaging was that it lived and died by its wheelie. Unlike a car that merely had a gas pedal, the Hakuchou made use of an intricacy of the game engine to go much faster by popping a wheelie, making it almost like a turbo boost. Learning how to read traffic and keep that boost active as much as possible was a game unto itself, which made seeing those 170+ MPH numbers on the speed challenge leaderboards all the more satisfying.

The armless era was a formulative time in my GTA character's career, and I earned a bit of infamy among our crew for rocking the gimmick so hard. It was only proper that I had a car to represent it. This Coquette Classic used a glitch that made the entire rear half of the car completely invisible, aside from the exhaust pipes and taillights, making it the perfect candidate to match the invisible arms meme. it always got smiles, chuckles, and headscratches whenever it showed up at the downtown car meets.

This Fugitive here was my very first car when I began playing GTA on the PC. I still love it to this day. It may not be flashy or conventionally appealing, but loud and gruff V8 sedans are my weakness. Eight years later, she's still shining and purring just like she did when I picked her up off the streets.

The first car I ever bought in GTA, all the way back on Xbox 360 in October of 2013, was a Voltic. The car itself was lost to bugs in the transfer process, but its spirit lives on through this second model. I didn't drive it often after migrating to PC, but the hours upon hours spent racing to earn the money to buy the original will always stick with me.

In a similar vein, this Ruiner symbolizes the first car I ever owned in GTA. The Ruiner was my main car in GTA IV, so when I saw it in GTA V and Online, I flew right back to my old baby. This one was added to the collection shortly after I started playing on PC and it has all the mods I missed out on on 360, like the crazy Shakotan exhausts and exposed intercooler. It's fun for me to compare it to the other Ruiners in my collection and see how much my tastes have changed.

Poetically, my GTA career was bookended by Ruiners. One of the vehicles that released as things were winding down was the Ruiner ZZ-8, and I was delighted to see it because I've got an equally soft spot for fourth-gen F-bodies. The ZZ-8 leaned a little closer to the Firebird with its snout and beehive taillights, but it wasn't too hard to doll it up to resemble a Camaro with the '97-'98 factory Bright Purple Metallic paint. As long as I don't have to change the spark plugs myself, I'm happy.

Normally I don't really dig the small and cute cars, but the modern Fiat 500s are charming to me, especially with their take on dog dish wheels. I tried to customize this Brioso R/A to look like one, but those unremovable carbon skirts put the kibosh on that idea. You win some, you lose some.

The Schafter V12 was already an amazing car, but they released an armored version at the same time with almost identical performance. I couldn't help buying both and giving the armored one a more subdued look to contrast the regular version's bold white. It wasn't quite as stable as the Baller, but the extra protection nonetheless came in handy more than once.

Since the game never had a '72 Riviera, I had to cope with a '65 in the form of the Buccaneer. This one has an unpurchaseable worn paint finish with a crew color glitched into one of the fields in order to keep the classic look while resembling some Rivieras I've seen photos of.

The Rocoto is one of those unassuming street cars I had to pounce on once I knew what it was based on. Volkswagens are mostly alien to me, but their cars from the 2000s with luxuriously oversized engines like the Phaeton W12 and the Passat W8 make me absolutely giddy, and the Rocoto is related to the first-gen Touareg which had the option for a V10 turbodiesel. It wasn't quite as fast or as torque-loaded as its VW analog, but it was close enough to tick the boxes for my obsession.

[withperfecttempo]

It’s So Overt It’s Covert

@bcwblade ( Simon the Harrowed )

Sona had spied the same man from a distance; garbed in a tattered coat and a hood. Though his long fingers appear to attempt to conceal his face, she could glimpse between the open spaces that he wears a dirtied and torn blindfold covering his eyes. She had seen him conversing with Yurie; a conversation she could barely make ends of due to her distance and their soft voices. However, judging from their positions alone, Sona could not help but find herself partial to the notion that the man had made his way to the church in search of sanctuary; and for whatever reason, Yurie appears to have declined his entry. 

Her lip curls into a grimace at the thought of a colleague turning down someone in need; particularly so if he had grappled his way from Yharnam. Sona lifts her hand and presses her fingertips against her chin. He must be from Yharnam. Perhaps. Brows knit at the other possibility that he is an outsider. She lets out a deep sigh of disapproval at both cases. The point stands that the beggar seems to be requesting asylum and was denied; by a clergy member, no less. 

She sees him standing by the door this time. Keeping herself where she stands, she listens for any exchanges taking place. Angling her head, Sona could see a fragment of his shadow. The further she cranes her neck, the stronger her confirmation is that no one else is keeping him company at this present moment. She quietly strides towards him, her focus on him holds as she notes that he appears to be staring at the moon overhead. 

Her hands lower and clasp just below her chest as she approaches him. With her head slightly leaning to the other side, she continues her quiet examination as she breaks the grasp. The freed hand gently taps the man’s shoulder to get his attention. Sona then waits for him to turn to her before she beckons him to enter the church.

[misfitsfromchristmastown]

rudolph the red nosed reindeer

dubbed into spanish with auto generated subtitles that were then auto translated into english

ah yes i love santa’s reindeer... brioso, jumper, cabriola, day, kite, cupid, lightning, and lightning. but do you recall... the most famous reindeer of all.....

...who was born in hell apparently

but the elves have to take courses of the excellent leprechaun!!!!!!!!!

this elf won’t shut up so he gets smacked in the face with a doll...

WHY WEREN’T YOU AT THE GOBLIN REHEARSAL????????????

my life depends on you hermey

ah there he is one of santa’s reindeer, coach kite

i think this is actually what he said in this language and i find that so funny

🎵rudolph the red nosed kingdom🎵

but OH NO the world of BLOOD is ending!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

rudolph discovers his nose has the power to turn people into concrete

MEATBALL????????

oh my favorite characters rude and germy

SAME

SANZ???? SANS?????

MEATBALL???????????????????????????????????????

then santa cancels reality

and murders the audience with his words

the end

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

Natale in crossover

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/32z0LtK

by zug_zwang

[partecipa a La Maritombola 12, prompt 19 #biscotti di pan di zenzero] Avevano un bel colore bruno ed avevano la tipica forma dell’omino di pan di zenzero, ma qualcosa era insolito: la testa, che recava una sinistra effigie orsina. «Chi li ha fatti?» «Monokuma» rispose Oma brioso. «Ma non sono avvelenati. Almeno, non con un veleno a effetto rapido, quindi non rovineranno la serata!» «Il veleno è l’ultimo problema» meditò Korekiyo pensosamente. «Potrebbe tutto sfociare in un’orgia rituale di Yule, e sarebbe inopportuno.»

Words: 1704, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Italiano

Fandoms: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You (Video Games), 今際の国のアリス | Imawa no Kuni no Alice | Alice in Borderland (TV), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS, キミガシネ | Kimi ga Shine | Your Turn To Die (Visual Novel), Naruto, Persona 5

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Komaeda Nagito, Oma Kokichi, Chishiya Shuntarou, Niragi Suguru, Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Shinguji Korekiyo, Park Jimin (BTS), Min Yoongi | Suga, Hiyori Sou | Tsukimi Shin, Akechi Goro, Yakushi Kabuto

Relationships: Komaeda Nagito/Oma Kokichi, Chishiya Shuntarou/Niragi Suguru, Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin, Orochimaru/Yakushi Kabuto

Additional Tags: Family Feels, Christmas Dinner, Christmas, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crossover, Crack Crossover, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Non-Canon Relationship, Komaeda Characters, Family Reunions, implied Komaeda Nagito/Hinata Hajime - Freeform, Minor Joshua/Hajime, Death Note References, Implied Mpreg, Mpreg

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/32z0LtK

[canvasclothiers]

Wine Reviews: Weekly Mini Round-Up For December 24, 2018

I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine reviews (mostly from samples) and tasting notes in a “mini-review” format.   They are meant to be quirky, fun, and (mostly) easily-digestible reviews of (mostly) currently available wines (click here for the skinny on how to read them), and are presented links to help you find them, so that you can try them out for yourself. Cheers!

2017 Susana Balbo Brioso White Blend (Valle de Uco): There’s pretty much nothing about this floral little number that isn’t tasty, or expressive. $24 B+

2016 Dominio del Plata BenMarco Expresivo (Mendoza): Herbs, violets, and more sexiness than Right Said Fred could have handled. $34 B+

2016 Bodegas Forjas del Salnes Leirana Finca Genoveva Albarino (Rias Baixas): Vibrant lemons, having a seaside vacation within spitting distance of the sea spray at a superb high-end resort.  $50 A-

2014 Atlantida Tintilla (Vino de la Tierra de Cadiz): Basically, a Parliament album; funky, bright, fun, and beautiful. $38 A-

2013 Elo Monastrell (Yecla): Chewy dark berries and blue flowers, approaching with very funky dance steps $35 B+

2016 BookCliff Vineyards Riesling (Grand Valley): Rich in its way, and politely, without being obnoxious about it. $14 B-

2017 Chateau Grand Traverse Dry Riesling (Old Mission Peninsula): It showed up with both flowers and more than enough energy for all of us. $13 B-

2016 Riverbench Estate Chardonnay (Santa Maria Valley): You’ll think that it’s a tad too buttery; and you’ll be totally wrong. $26 B+

2016 Tolosa Winery Estate Pinot Noir (Edna Valley): Leather clad sultry characters that are selling leather, then relaxing in leather chairs while putting on more leather. $68 A-

2014 Louis M. Martini Monte Rosso Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon (Sonoma Valley): Flashback to the wine biz of the `90s, in all of the right ways. $90 A

Grab The 1WineDude.com Tasting Guide and start getting more out of every glass of wine today!

Shop Wine Products at Amazon.com

Copyright © 2016. Originally at Wine Reviews: Weekly Mini Round-Up For December 24, 2018 from 1WineDude.com – for personal, non-commercial use only. Cheers!

Source: http://www.1winedude.com/wine-reviews-weekly-mini-round-up-for-december-24-2018/

[sommeliercourses]

Wine Reviews: Weekly Mini Round-Up For December 24, 2018

I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine reviews (mostly from samples) and tasting notes in a “mini-review” format.   They are meant to be quirky, fun, and (mostly) easily-digestible reviews of (mostly) currently available wines (click here for the skinny on how to read them), and are presented links to help you find them, so that you can try them out for yourself. Cheers!

2017 Susana Balbo Brioso White Blend (Valle de Uco): There’s pretty much nothing about this floral little number that isn’t tasty, or expressive. $24 B+

2016 Dominio del Plata BenMarco Expresivo (Mendoza): Herbs, violets, and more sexiness than Right Said Fred could have handled. $34 B+

2016 Bodegas Forjas del Salnes Leirana Finca Genoveva Albarino (Rias Baixas): Vibrant lemons, having a seaside vacation within spitting distance of the sea spray at a superb high-end resort.  $50 A-

2014 Atlantida Tintilla (Vino de la Tierra de Cadiz): Basically, a Parliament album; funky, bright, fun, and beautiful. $38 A-

2013 Elo Monastrell (Yecla): Chewy dark berries and blue flowers, approaching with very funky dance steps $35 B+

2016 BookCliff Vineyards Riesling (Grand Valley): Rich in its way, and politely, without being obnoxious about it. $14 B-

2017 Chateau Grand Traverse Dry Riesling (Old Mission Peninsula): It showed up with both flowers and more than enough energy for all of us. $13 B-

2016 Riverbench Estate Chardonnay (Santa Maria Valley): You’ll think that it’s a tad too buttery; and you’ll be totally wrong. $26 B+

2016 Tolosa Winery Estate Pinot Noir (Edna Valley): Leather clad sultry characters that are selling leather, then relaxing in leather chairs while putting on more leather. $68 A-

2014 Louis M. Martini Monte Rosso Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon (Sonoma Valley): Flashback to the wine biz of the `90s, in all of the right ways. $90 A

Grab The 1WineDude.com Tasting Guide and start getting more out of every glass of wine today!

Shop Wine Products at Amazon.com

Copyright © 2016. Originally at Wine Reviews: Weekly Mini Round-Up For December 24, 2018 from 1WineDude.com – for personal, non-commercial use only. Cheers! Source: http://www.1winedude.com/wine-reviews-weekly-mini-round-up-for-december-24-2018/

from Linda Johnson https://meself84.wordpress.com/2018/12/24/wine-reviews-weekly-mini-round-up-for-december-24-2018/

[cacophonyofolives]

Wine Reviews: Weekly Mini Round-Up For December 24, 2018

I taste a bunch-o-wine (technical term for more than most people). So each week, I share some of my wine reviews (mostly from samples) and tasting notes in a “mini-review” format.   They are meant to be quirky, fun, and (mostly) easily-digestible reviews of (mostly) currently available wines (click here for the skinny on how to read them), and are presented links to help you find them, so that you can try them out for yourself. Cheers!

2017 Susana Balbo Brioso White Blend (Valle de Uco): There’s pretty much nothing about this floral little number that isn’t tasty, or expressive. $24 B+

2016 Dominio del Plata BenMarco Expresivo (Mendoza): Herbs, violets, and more sexiness than Right Said Fred could have handled. $34 B+

2016 Bodegas Forjas del Salnes Leirana Finca Genoveva Albarino (Rias Baixas): Vibrant lemons, having a seaside vacation within spitting distance of the sea spray at a superb high-end resort.  $50 A-

2014 Atlantida Tintilla (Vino de la Tierra de Cadiz): Basically, a Parliament album; funky, bright, fun, and beautiful. $38 A-

2013 Elo Monastrell (Yecla): Chewy dark berries and blue flowers, approaching with very funky dance steps $35 B+

2016 BookCliff Vineyards Riesling (Grand Valley): Rich in its way, and politely, without being obnoxious about it. $14 B-

2017 Chateau Grand Traverse Dry Riesling (Old Mission Peninsula): It showed up with both flowers and more than enough energy for all of us. $13 B-

2016 Riverbench Estate Chardonnay (Santa Maria Valley): You’ll think that it’s a tad too buttery; and you’ll be totally wrong. $26 B+

2016 Tolosa Winery Estate Pinot Noir (Edna Valley): Leather clad sultry characters that are selling leather, then relaxing in leather chairs while putting on more leather. $68 A-

2014 Louis M. Martini Monte Rosso Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon (Sonoma Valley): Flashback to the wine biz of the `90s, in all of the right ways. $90 A

Grab The 1WineDude.com Tasting Guide and start getting more out of every glass of wine today!

Shop Wine Products at Amazon.com

Copyright © 2016. Originally at Wine Reviews: Weekly Mini Round-Up For December 24, 2018 from 1WineDude.com - for personal, non-commercial use only. Cheers! source http://www.1winedude.com/wine-reviews-weekly-mini-round-up-for-december-24-2018/

[intervital]

#currentlyreading @h.o.w.journal issue 12 at @caffebeneusa, this time it's Gilmarie Brioso's fiction "Baptism". Her description is so glorious and I love this tidbit: "Hail Mary," I say faster. My lips smack briefly, uttering short, sharp whispers. You know a person by their prayer's whispers. Sister Cera's whispers are soft, thorough. She takes her time with every word, as if imbuing them with power. Turning prayers into tiny spells that make things happen. She whispers the shortest prayers because her prayers take time. Mine are rapid and hard. Less about the words, but the cadence, the beat. I need to feel the vibrations on my lip, three short breaths that putter out. Mamá whispers desperate prayers. They take over her body, rock her back and forth. After Papá, I would find her kneeling before the tiny altar neatly assembled next to her bed, twirling a rosary bead within her fingers. There's a sumptuous texture to her words. I wanna dive in so badly. It makes me want to write the different ways my own characters perform an action. I feel like sighing over Brioso's wording. This is my favorite work so far. Can't wait to finish this and see what else is there. Lit magazines are so amazing. This one especially so. #howjournal #gilmariebrioso #litmag #litmagazine #excerpt #bookstagram #currentlyreading #prayer (at Caffebene USA)

[withperfecttempo]

@vilestblood asked: 🤝🏻 38 

…because you are running out of time.

[ Prompt list ]

The smell of cinder floods the research hall. The subjects’ wails echo throughout the once holy establishment as they scour and scurry through the halls. Eyeless, headless, forever wandering, they claw through one another and bang onto the wood and walls. Their voices blend into one another, shattering glass, roaring flames; sounds of hell erupting and soon to engulf the establishment.

The lauded Angel of Music sinks among discarded corpses. Her cracked veil lies at her side while empty eyes gaze into nothing. She knew that she had long fallen and this sanctuary would inevitably collapse with her. 

It is until a firm arm pulls her to her feet. 

“You’ve got to get up.”

Despite Sona’s will long gone from her being, her body immediately follows suit. She stands and her gaze finds its way to the Crow as he, too, coughs inward into his arm from the surrounding smolder. Sona sees him with a resolute illumination in his eyes as he looks at her. He keeps his hand on her arm for a moment before descending to find her fingers. 

“Come on. Let’s go.”

[withperfecttempo]

@vilestblood

‘Would you like to hear a joke about a staccato? Never mind, it’s too short.’

[withperfecttempo]

Aria

there are wolves gnawing in his throat,  long strewn muzzles pressing up against the fixated angle of his jaw, gnawing and howling and choking.  they consume each other, themselves. you and me. myself. they eat. they burn only to burst into a thousand freckled sunspots, they burst into wild birds that flutter free from his chest. he is the wolf and the bird both, just as she is talon and claw, the song then the scream. she can be as cruel as he is, she would have every right to be, for the sparrow who sits long upon her branch cannot help but be tossed into the sea of her own hunger. they are similar yet so very different, it was a curse and a blessing.

all she smells is blood. how could she not? how could she escape that stench? she smelt it, saw the splatters, counted them as they flew and spurted upright. she smelled only blood that she forgot to smell the roses in full bloom with thorns aplenty. roses grow from her as well, they are a bramble hedge inside her heart where petal and thorn become askew, where there can be no differentiation between neither. cloying. chasing. consuming. again, always consuming. the act of living is just as violent as death itself.

❝ i will not lie to you and say it will get easier. ❞   stop speaking. be silent. stay your tongue before she will cut it clean off, and then what will you do? you will weep, or pity her, or maybe even pity yourself. foolish creature — foolish spectre!    ❝ your heart will feel like lead. ❞  he turns from her, the click of heels prevailing through the already bitten, fraying air. a wind brushes along his side, flourishing his white cape, the sound fluttering in like an echo.  ❝ you will be glass. ❞  the echo doubles, reflecting off the sharp panes of wood and the mirror she sits before. his heavy stare wanders off beyond the window-frame, beyond this place, as does his voice.

the phantom does not speak these things into existence, nor does he say them with spite, he simply is. standing there, letting the wind curdle his frame, swaddle him up and perhaps swallow him whole. what a tempting thought, he must tuck it away for now.  ❝ you have seen first hand how fragile the boundary between life and death is.  you could reach out and pluck it, and make the most profound music. ❞

Khada Jhin ( @necrofntasia )

The crackling flames deliver her into the present, to the stage on which her feet had settled while her eyes bring back the phantom standing before her into view. The smoke, an aroma of burnt sweet roses drifts to her senses and curls its hand under her chin to beckon her face. But the warmth of the scent seems to ebb when icy fingers draw her bare shoulders and back of her neck. The curtain has lifted, the blood begins to race, and the sleeping bud bursts into bloom. 

His voice grasped the air as if siphoning the atmosphere of hell itself into his palms. Yet all the same, he maintains a velvety baritone that wraps around every word and letter that left him. Each delivery timed, paced with the ensemble within the orchestra pit. They lock eyes as angles his head to her direction, his voice lingering on the last note of the line. Then comes her part, her solo. 

Sona is the mask he wears but it is himself they hear.

They had once been staring at one another through a glass; peering through a transparent veil that presented themselves whole and the two had become one. Sona cranes her neck to receive his touch, to drink deep. Her hand finds its way to his face, fingertips meeting with his skin and she cups his masked cheek. Her thumb smoothes the surface offering him the most intimate comfort as she trails the melody with the other hand. It had once been captivation, admiration, then fear, followed by numbness. This, now, is pity. To duck into the shadows and find solace in the cold for a lifetime is built on a deep self-hatred.

Perhaps she still has a chance, this time, to lead him; save him from his solitude.

With the curve of her hand, her fingers grasp onto the edge of his mask. And with a firm tug, he becomes undone. 

They all must see him as they had seen her. Now.

[withperfecttempo]

Aria

Khada Jhin ( @excellnce )

[ Cont. from here ]

The ghosts of the audience who had paid their patronage to the theater to watch her perform, even inverted persons have semblances of themselves after passing through the doors to the other side remain with her, even now when engorged in buried and bitter memories and thoughts. Pained spirits that once knew joy and talk of summertime, they surround her and they still frighten her. 

His voice descends upon her like a veil casted over the peaceful mien of the deceased. No truer words have been said; they stood out amidst tailored poems sewn with sinister undertones. Words and songs woven to be worn with miniscule shards and poison laced within the fibers; tar clinging and eating away the skin. It hurts, it sears. Just as the lingering dissipation of pipe organ notes, his murmur reverberates within hollowed vessels. Yet, he too, speaks as though his metallic tipped fingers lightly walk along the length of her throat as he makes his way to her temple to cage it, grasp it, and force her to look upon them and despair. Him, but never quite. 

By the force of the same statement that stirs another array of ponderings, she lifts her head from her hands and peers into the mirror. Sure to her senses, the Phantom looms over her sitting form. The glass reflects and defines just as well as it blurs, distinguishing his cold shadow with  the warmth radiating from her being. His mask, her face. The demon and his subject of possession; a marionette soon to conclude her long performance before being pierced by spirals of dancing flame past the point of no return.  

But it is not strings that compel her to raise her hand and reach for his visage. A hand rests upon his lower jaw while the fingers of the other brush against the ridge of the other cheek. Mild flesh upon a shade kept by porcelain and rustling robes. The Phantom spoke so plainly, echoing what she could never say herself. 

Two wretched beings they are, death and a maiden.

[withperfecttempo]

Dead Sea

@of-forossa liked for a starter.

The Choir’s First Chair holds a small pair of shoes in hand. Laced flats, a worn brown that clearly shows that the owner had done her best to be attentive to its cleanliness. The laces drape over Sona’s hands, the ends hanging mid-air. This was neither the first nor the last she was requested by one of the children who had offered themselves for the greater good of mankind to the Choir doctors and surgeons. Her thumb smoothes over a particular scuffed patch at the tip before lowering herself in front of a shelf and neatly tucking them into a slot beside other various mementos. Within other compartments were worn parchment with illegible writing, drawings, broken pieces of graphite, shoes, ribbons, dried blossoms and grass, makeshift dolls, and worn prayer books. 

She forces a smile to the former knight as she relays to him in sign. 

‘We think of ourselves as angels. Saviors of mankind.’

A hand reaches out to a bouquet of dried flowers in another compartment. Her finger skims the stiff petals, taking care not to place too much pressure to shatter it. Withdrawing her hand she straightens her posture and continues her sign, this time seemingly more hesitant as if she had come to realization at this very moment.

‘But maybe we are different kinds of beasts.’

[withperfecttempo]

@excellnce asked:  ❝ So this is goodbye. ❞ for ... you know :)

[ Prompt list here ]

Her magic, the materialized crescendo rushes at him; an immense and powerful wave that tumbles and crushes the remaining confines of a dam and overruns all in its path. It strikes him as fiercely as he stands and stares, awed by the amalgam of colors that emit from the prevalent core of unyielding white-gold. Her crescendo for this very performance is a relentless mass of arcane energies and sound that inundates all the senses; engulfing, filling, and shredding every fiber of his being. His body convulses as if struck by powerful lightning.

The light never dims upon him as if the gods are willing the apex of his performance, urging it to climb to its peak. The Phantom’s legs scramble about the stage, a stringent movement as his will clashes with her spell that entwines with his limbs like ivy that clings and crushes aged architecture. Yet, too, does her magic’s bolts gallivant in rapid streaks across lengths of his being. His fingers curve inward, clawing at his throat and turning to the open air, towards the light peeking through the high windows and pierce into every and any exposed angle of twisting flesh. Bones crack and blood erupts from newly formed fissures scattering atop the wood like fallen rose petals.

Strained howls surge through taut windpipes, choked and soon cut into a raspy groan as his body freezes. His torso curves backwards  with his arms reaching for the windows as if imploring for heaven to let him ascend; for a choir of angels to welcome him and make himself a new home in their paradise. His form hurls into a misshapen pirouette as his arms and neck flail, torso following suit, and his legs twist into pointed, stiff spirals, no longer serving him. He collapses with a thud; the stage remains beneath him and so does hell.

--------------------------

She kneels over his sprawled frame. Her fingers and eyes descend and skim over his Adam's apple, a wetness becomes more prevalent as she deepens her touch around his neck. Sona lifts her fingers, with a slight turn of her trembling hands she could see the scarlet-tinted tips. His face tucked under the elongated shadow of his crooked mask, a sizable crack runs from the bottom of the open eye through the lips to the brink above his jaw.

She could still hear him. His faltering breaths hushed within the confines, striving to meet the open air.

Curved fingertips move underneath a protruding edge, pushing the mask back into place. Digits linger at the point for a moment before shifting her hand against his cheek, smearing streaks of crimson atop the ivory. She cradles his face, blues meeting the singular framed auburn eye before it flutters to a close. Her lips descend onto the side of his mask, pressing against the cheek’s curve

She pulls away, her eyes encircling the fractured façade as she listens to his breaths slow and silence. Sona’s eyes lock with his, her hand still resting against his face. 

Despite being darkened by waves of  inconsolable losses, she still looks upon him with a semblance of gentleness as when they met, though this time, relaying a different message.

‘Farewell, dear Phantom.’

[withperfecttempo]

@vilestblood liked to be serenaded to again

Plip plop plip plop

The patients all have spoken about the endless depths of the sea. A sticky sound and singular drops that can be heard through the muffled churning. To submerge into the deep waters, basking into a higher plane of thinking by encasing themselves with formless insight. Upon acquiring eyes on the inside, nothing else would matter so long as they withdraw themselves into their heads. 

Splish splash splish splash

Rain still falls, dappling closed buds and rolling off thick foliage. The bow glides across strings, it resounds through the empty halls as if reaching to any available ears. Sona’s eyes close as she draws the bow, a melancholic tune formed from a quiet habit. The pattering drops creates the time signature while the tune weaves within and around. She paces the chords where it could be elongated for vibrato while her fingers shift and slide as if dancing in the deluge. Those were the days of childhood awe and aspiration. Though now every drop upon her face is a reminder of her presence and duty, they still serve to be a sympathetic companion. 

Sona longs for a day when she does not fear to lift the cap for droplets to kiss her eyelids and trickle down her cheeks.

When writing, gestures, and music may not suffice, she would talk to the rain. 

[withperfecttempo]

Heysel ( @yellowfingcr )

[ Cont. from here ]

Though among those touched by the Great One’s blessing, gifted with a great deal of insight to see everything as they are, complete enigma of the indescribably should come as little surprise. The shock of the flourishing fluorescent bulb that sits atop the body is reminiscent of a sea flora is something Sona has little exposure to working with during her time in the Upper Cathedral Ward. One that glows and waves along with the flowing current as it peers and reaches for the moon hanging over the ocean’s wavering, glassy surface. She can hear her voice clearly, each word pronounced without yielding to confusion, an utmost enthusiasm in delivery. 

Here she stands before the stranger, completely clad in the Choir’s attire, stiff. A secret sect of the Healing Church that consists of the most elite and skilled members. Sona follows Heysel’s keen observations of her. Her parched throat begs for her to swallow to feel itself again but Sona refrains from doing so. 

Sona feels herself slipping as she narrows possibilities of her loyalties. The white and black attire, she could very well be a member of the church. She still tries to grasp at words spoken and matching them with vigorous gestures. Her eyes widen behind the cap, a bizarre and rare puzzlement alighting her shaded visage. She shifts her head, a pulse of embarrassment prods in her chest that her head had gradually leaned to a side without her realizing. 

Heysel’s outreached hand alerts her, prompting her to take hold and shake. Her brow quirks at her grasp, surprising herself with the lack of firmness to the grip coupled with the slightest twitch of her lip. The touch is polite enough, not exceedingly tight or soft. Sona nods once she had finished speaking, an effort of a smile tugging at a corner of her mouth before dropping into a neutral display. Curving a finger, she shapes her hands and angles her wrist to fingerspell: ‘S-O-N-A.’