#sinful soirée

[dilemmaontwolegs]

For the love of god(dess) || CL16 {1}

A/N & Summary: Greek God/dess AU. This was a draft I had wasting away with reincarnation trope. Reader is the goddess of love. I don't even know what I am doing anymore lol Warnings: reader injury, blood WC: 2.2k Part One || Two

“Do you ever stop working?”

You leered across the scrying bowl to the unwelcome guest waltzing into your sanctum. “Unlike some, my work never ends.”

“Come now, I remember a time when you used to love my little soirées,” Dionysus whispered in your ear as he dipped his finger in the bowl, disturbing the still waters. The god of debauchery had never held just a little party, there was a reason hedonism and excess had been celebrated for millennia. “Take one night off. It will be one to remember.”

“Liar,” you said with a smile despite yourself. “I still don’t have any memory of the last one.”

He winked and flicked the droplet of water from his finger at you playfully, “Then I am doing my job right. It’s on earth…”

Damn, the god knew how to pique your interest. Thousands of years watching through the haze of the scrying bowl did little to capture their humanity. Whenever you could, you used to walk among them to see the fruits of your labour. 

“Love, you are eternal - yet you waste away in this…” he drifted off as he looked around the empty stone room, carvings depicting your greatest champions along the walls, “place.”

While the other gods had their golden palaces you were content in the temple that had once been filled with priestesses who served the deity you once were. A shell of who you used to be reflected back in the still water. What was the Goddess of Love with a broken heart? Cold and empty like this temple.

Your thoughts darkened and shadows crept along the walls before you took a deep breath. It had been a few decades since you had some fresh air, maybe it was for the best to get out. “Fine. One night.”

Dio grinned and swept an arm around your waist before leading you to the door. The sunlight hit your face and you cursed Apollo until your eyes adjusted to the brightness. The drunken god took one look at the white robe you wore, a silver sash tied at the waist, and tutted.

“I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but this won’t do.”

“Any other insults?” you dared as you cast a hand over yourself, the white cotton bleeding to a deep red leather skin that hugged your body and accentuated your assets. A black corset snapped at the contours of your waist and pressed your breasts up, the armour unnecessary but as familiar as breathing. The others may have forgotten the great war but your heart remembered the loss and you swore you would not leave yourself vulnerable again. 

He let out a low whistle and shook his head. 

“Oh, one more thing.” Your bow and quiver snapped into place across your back and drew a groan from Dio. “What?” Your eyes darted to the chalice that was forever held in his left hand. “You have your attachments, I have mine.”

He held his cupped hand up, wine sloshing over the rim, and pointed a finger at you. “Firstly, this is a curse - not a choice. And secondly, this is useful to drink out of.”

“Maybe you should have been more careful where you stuck your dick.”

“I didn’t know the nymph was one of Zeus’ favourites, obviously,” Dio grumbled before setting off down the path that would lead to the mortal realm.

–

Las Vegas, Mortal Realm, 2023 PIW (Post-Immortal-Wars)

You already knew the party would be a large one, but this was big even by Dionysus’ standards. Thousands of people imbibed in the free flowing alcohol and danced under strobe lights in Sin City, his favourite playground. Dio sent a mischievous wink before he touched the champagne tower and his power imbued with the liquor to increase the effect and ensure everyone was on the same level as him.

“Drink, Love,” he ordered as he tipped the rim of his glass to your lips. Sweet wine warmed your throat as much as his power did and you drank it down knowing that for at least a few minutes your cares would be diminished - but they always came back too soon. “Now dance.”

Your hips swayed and your hands found themselves moving above your head as the lights mesmerised you. Human scents came and went as they moved around you, their pheromones calling to your power as they found lovers, if only for the night. One particular scent caught your attention and you followed it to find Dio talking to the human. He had been god touched and the mark glowed on his brow - not that the mortals could see it.

“Love, this is the man of the hour,” Dio gushed, casting a hand to the party as if it were all for him. “Max here won the race.”

You didn’t know what race he was referring to, nor did you care. “Of course he did,” you stated dryly. Max was Nike’s champion and Nike was the Goddess of Victory in everything except what mattered. “Congratulations.”

You grabbed Dio’s hand and drank your fill from his cursed chalice in the hopes it would douse the fire that ignited in your veins. If Nike had fought alongside you in the war instead of wasting her time with her Olympians and their silly sports then maybe Károlos would have survived. Maybe you would do more than just survive eternity alone.

“Sorry, she doesn’t get out much,” Dio joked, clapping the victor on the arm. “Drink, my friend. The night is young and life is short.”

You slipped away into the sea of bodies, drifting through until a cool breeze called from the balcony and you escaped to the quiet. Your breath exhaled with a heaviness only an immortal could carry and a chuckle startled you.

“Fuck, not another one. Can’t I have one moment of peace?” you groaned as his scent found you before the handsome man stepped out of the shadows of the corner he had been hiding in.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “This was my hiding place first.”

The mark of the Adonis glowed beneath the dark hair that fell over his forehead and you internally scoffed at the god’s vanity. The man standing before you would have been stuck down if he showed his face in Olympus, he was far too good looking it would be considered an offence to the petty gods. And those eyes, green eyes just like...You had to look away before you could finish that thought.

“What do you have to hide from?” you asked, leaning against the rail as you watched fireworks explode among the stars. “You’re a champion.”

“You must have me confused with someone else,” he laughed bitterly.

“I know a champion when I see one.” You felt Dionysus breeze onto the balcony before you heard his drunken laugh behind you, the bitter smell of blackthorn root on his breath from the drug he had smoked.

“Love, eternal Love, I found you,” he slurred as hugged your back, the feathered fletches from the quiver of arrows irritating him. “Must you wear these prickly things?”

Before you could stop him, he ripped an arrow out, the sharpened point catching the side of your neck. A hiss of pain escaped your lips as blood trickled down your throat and the power that kept the weapons hidden from mortal sight broke with the bead of blood on the tip. 

Adonis’ champion gasped as his mind raced to piece together what he was seeing. A woman bleeding and a man holding the weapon. His eyes narrowed and he leapt at Dio, trying to wretch the bloodied arrow from him before he could attack you again. You could have laughed at how futile the attempt was for a mortal to attack a god but said god was higher than Zeus’ perch in his palace and rotten drunk off his wine. 

The fates must have been laughing their asses off as the mortal and god collided, both tumbling to the floor before the mortal screamed in pain.

A hand reached into your chest, at least that was how it felt when the fire exploded inside you. “No, no, no, no,” you cried as Dio fell away from the mortal and you saw the arrow buried in the champion's chest. “What have you done?”

The fire faded as the bond snapped into place and you hated how you suddenly feared for the mortal. That fear had you rushing to his side and falling to your knees as Dio stared at his hands. “I, I didn’t mean to,” he stammered. 

Even the mortals knew the power those arrows held, the stories were told throughout the ages of how just a nick from one could make strangers, enemies even, fall for each other in an instant. The greatest weapon of all was love and it had the power to destroy even the immortals. And Dio had just stabbed the mortal with one, coated in your blood. Blood that bonded.

You gripped the shaft and tugged the arrow out of his chest before slamming your hand over the wound and pouring your energy into it, sealing it closed. He reached for your hand that was slick with his blood and you let him hold it, unable to fight the love that came from your own power. 

“You’ll be okay,” you promised him before narrowing your eyes at Dio. “You, not so much.”

“It was an accident, I swear, it was like I couldn’t control myself. Charles just jumped-”

Your eyes flared silver as you looked back at the unearthly green shade of his eyes. Same eyes, same name, Adonis’ champion. You had foolishly thought Adonis had chosen the mortal for his beauty, but if the mortal was reincarnated then he would also bear the mark on his brow.

“Károlos,” you whispered as a feeling of rightness settled across the universe.

Charles frowned at the name but understood the tenderness in the tone, such a sweet sound. His chest no longer burned and smooth skin met his palm as he felt for the wound that had healed, but the blood on his shirt was proof he had not imagined it all. 

“Who are you?” he asked as he rose to his feet, tasting his blood on his tongue.

You flinched at the question and looked to the stars. “I go by many names, but you may call me Y/N.”

“You called me Károlos.”

“That was your name the first time you walked the earth,” Adonis said, appearing on the balcony in a flash of light. “Károlos, Karlaz, Carl, Charles - it’s always the same. A hundred lifetimes lived, always searching, always waiting. All for this moment.”

When Károlos had been killed you had stormed to the Underworld ready to bargain with Hades, but he had said Károlos wasn’t in the Elysian Fields. You hadn’t believed him in your anger. All this time, Adonis had kept his soul safe. 

You reached behind to your quiver and drew an arrow, grabbing your bow and notching it. “You had two thousand years to tell me he was alive.”

Adonis held his hands up, shifting closer to Dio ready to sacrifice him as a shield. “You think the fates would let me tell you! I did what I could but you were happy to grovel alone in your temple.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Charles asked, wondering why no one had come to see what was going on, except when he looked at the party everyone was frozen like the time had come to a stop.

“I was grieving! And now I will have to mourn him anew, because he’s fucking mortal!”

Adonis grinned and you debated releasing the arrow. “Are you sure about that? Is that not your blood that runs in his veins now? I can smell it on him.”

You paused. Your blood had been on the arrow, immortal blood. You and Charles had gravitated to each other without realising it and you inhaled as you leaned a little closer. There was still a hint of that fresh mortal scent but it was an undercurrent to the aether that grew stronger with each breath. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Charles snapped as you dissected him with your eyes like an experiment. “And why is no one else moving?”

You unnotched the arrow and waved the feathered end at Adonis. “We are going to have words about this later.” The beautiful god nodded before disappearing in a flash of light.

“So I'm forgiven, right?” Dio asked with a shy smile. “Told you it would be one to remember.”

You held a hand up to silence him and looked at Charles. “I don’t know how to answer your questions without making more. It might be easier if I show you.”

He accepted your hand without hesitation and you wondered how much of that was the force of the bond or because on some unconscious level his soul recognised yours. Either way, you smiled at the warmth between your skin before leaving the mortal realm behind.

“Where are we going?” he asked as the stars faded with the lights of Sin City.

“Home.”

–

For Reference: Dionysus - God of Wine and Pleasure Nike - Goddess of Victory Adonis - God of Beauty, Desire and Rebirth Károlos - (Old derivative for Charles) A warrior who was fated to be your soulmate before being killed protecting you in the Immortal Wars. Reincarnated as Charles Leclerc by Adonis. Olympus - Immortal Realm

Click here for part two.

#greek god au #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine

[daemon-in-my-head]

An idea:

Long before the Absolutes plan was even thought about, a young human and his unholy companion attended a soirée in the upper city, seeking to establish themselves within high society so that their respective purposes are easier achieved.

The unholy not-couple turning heads where they go, charming one attendee after the other, but their gazes constantly seeking out each other. Anytime their eyes meet, soft smiles flicker on their faces, as their owners continously get lost in worlds of their own.

Gortash sauntering over, handing the charming Bhaalspawn a drink alongside an invitation to meet on one of the private balconies to talk about business.

Perhaps once the doors behind them lock, one hand finds the other, guiding it's owner to the distant sound of music. Perhaps one pair of lips finding the other, tasting the sweet, burning liquor.

Hushed voices that speak of secret promises, hoping the words will be drowned out by the bustling of the city and the bards' cheerful tunes. Praying that not even the gods will hear them as they sin against them.

#bg3 #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #bg3 spoilers #durgetash #gortash x durge #lord gortash #bg3 durge #durge

[moonlight-prose]

Hello lovely, for your sinful soirée I’d like to request Tommy Miller and “don’t mind me. just enjoying the view.” ❤️🤭

DREADFUL NEED

a/n: the way i struggled with this when i was starting it. it's been a long time since i wrote smut and especially smut for him, but i feel like it's finally where i like it. there's no edits done and minor proofreading so there will most likely be mistakes. also a massive thank you to @sunflowersteves for basically cheering me on as i wrote this.

summary: "You wanted to see his smile fade as the realization struck him that he would have to work for it tonight."

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: tommy miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, tommy being a bit of a little shit, slight teasing, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating.

There was always something in that smile. A call to your heart. As if he were the siren and you were the sailor; ready to sink beneath the ocean waves to seek out what you wanted most. It was a need that yanked at your heart, shoved its way to the very forefront of your mind.

Until you couldn’t think of anything but him.

Tommy smiled again, his eyes dropping down to where your hands were tracing a random shape on the couch cushion. It took you a moment to realize that it wasn’t random at all. The small movement matched the exact one he pressed to your skin whenever he held you. His thumb, attempting to spread some comfort through your body.

“Honey,” he murmured, his eyes finding yours again, slightly darker than before.

“Hm?”

He sunk down into his chair further, legs spreading to catch your attention. You hated how much he knew you. How he could drag your eyes right where he wanted, holding you rapt with unspoken want. Except nothing was ever left unsaid with him. You didn’t have to say a single thing for him to understand what you wanted—what you ached for.

“Come here,” he said, his words nearly stopping your heart in its place.

A heat spread low in your stomach, wrapping like vines around your nerves—searing you from the inside out. It beckoned you towards him, begged you to move, to finally give into what he wanted. But the stubborn streak he loved fought back. Telling you to make him come to you, if only to hold the upper hand for a moment more. You wanted to see his smile fade as the realization struck him that he would have to work for it tonight.

“Honey.” His words were lower, smile slowly slipping into something else.

You spread your legs, matching his position and revealing what he yearned for. His shirt rode up your thighs, hitching around your hips and giving him an eyeful of the dark spot staining your light pink panties. A sight that had him leaning closer, his eyes watching as your hand slid down to your thighs, holding still dangerously close to where you needed him most.

“You come here,” you murmured. Part of you expected your voice to waver, the nerves thrumming an erratic beat in your chest. But you sounded strong, determined to get what you wanted before the night ended.

He smiled again, seeing the way you shifted on the couch from want, your legs threatening to close. “Give me a second.”

“Tommy,” you sighed, head falling back against the cushion and fingers trailing along the seam of the damp fabric.

The sharp inhale he took echoed through the room, giving you more incentive to continue. Pressing down until the pad of your finger caught on your clit, causing sparks to streak up your spine. A soft moan fell from your lips, hips canting up to chase more of your touch. Except it was the sound of him moving that forced you to pause entirely. His large form blocked the light from the lamp as he dropped down to his knees, his shoulders keeping your spread open for him.

“Don’t mind me honey. Just enjoying the view,” he drawled, lips pulled up into that small smile you felt go through you as if he’d just touched you himself.

Words built up in the back of your throat, but they didn’t have to be said, because he already knew. He could see the need on your face, the struggle of wanting him to replace your hand with his. Pressing a kiss to your knee, he watched your chest heave—the breath leaving you faster than you could take it in.

“I got you honey,” he murmured, his hand sliding up and pressing down on your fingers, watching in delight as your head fell back, your mouth dropping open.

“T-Tommy I’m—fuck,” you gasped.

He placed another kiss on your thigh, his teeth digging into the plush skin softly. “You come when you need to come alright? Take what you need.”

The firm pressure of his fingers guiding yours caused your legs to shake. A familiar curling heat building up in your body, claiming you with every small movement he made. You panted, an incoherent whine of his name and please mixed together echoing in the room. But he left that option up to you. Never giving you more, never less. The choice remained clear for you through the hazy fog that crept into your mind.

He wanted you to take everything he had to offer. Consume it with a hunger that gnawed within his body, screaming out for you as he watched intently. Licking at his lips, he watched the wet spot grow darker, spreading until it nearly turned the light pink a dark mauve. Except you couldn’t focus on that. Not when he pressed even further on your fingers, nearly pushing them inside you and forcing the heat to sear through you.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, his other hand digging into your hip. “C’mon honey.”

You wanted to shout his name until your fucking neighbors heard you, but all that came out was a garbled moan. He continued to keep you right there. Unable to fall over, until you pressed your hips forward. Grinding them into the mixture of your touches. He gasped softly, mouth parted as he watched you with dark eyes that swallowed his pupil entirely.

“R-right there—god!” you cried, his fingers pressing even harder until you were being dragged roughly to the very edge.

Something snapped in his mind, his hand yanking away despite your loud sob of protest. He yanked you forward, his hands rushing to push your underwear to the side as he sucked your clit into his mouth. As if the block in your throat vanished the second his tongue licked up whatever dripped from you, a shout of his name bounced off the walls. He groaned, digging himself closer, until you were nearly bent in half.

“Fuck, fuck! Tommy I’m—”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence, the release you’d been aching for consuming you entirely. Your hands scrambled to grab onto his shoulders, nails digging sharply down as you broke. The tightness in your stomach gave way to that delicious blinding heat that spread through your body. Turning you into a writhing mess beneath him.

He moaned into you, drinking down what he could take. A man desperate for the very taste of you.

Falling limp against the couch, you moaned when he continued. Licking gently at your cunt until you had to pull him off. His name, a soft whine against your lips. Shifting up, he kissed you, spreading what he had left against your tongue and grinning when you shuddered. Your body, soft and pliant beneath his touch.

“You enjoy the view?” you asked, a soft smile pulling at your lips.

He laughed, the warmth of his body pressing comfortably into yours. “You bet I did. Best damn view of my life honey.”

Tugging him closer, you kissed him languidly—your tongue sweeping along his bottom lip. “I’m gonna need a view of my own,” you breathed, glancing down at the straining erection in his jeans.

Tommy chuckled, his hands reaching down to the button and popping it open. “All you had to do was ask.”

#tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller #tommy miller smut #the last of us fic #the last of us #my writing #sinful soiree🥀

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

little sunshine. - my love mine all mine

cardinal copia x sister of sin!reader part 5.

masterlist. / little sunshine masterlist.

tag list: @gothicwonderlust, @siouxbauhaus, @millerthats, @jaymechaos

a/n: omg i'm so sorry it took this long to come out, i got caught up with family and school stuff. As you read I hope you realize why LMAO

warnings/things to note: none other than autistic copia

enjoy <3

word count: 1,263 words.

Having fallen asleep the previous night in Copia's room, you woke up to the nonstop pings from your phone. You rolled over to the side, checking it with half-lidded eyes. Blah blah, Sister Leah asking if Copia abducted you to become his rat queen, blah blah... wait. A notification from the Clergy? Oh, this must be the weekly newsletter, you thought to yourself.

You opened it and sat up straighter, taking note that Copia's side of the bed was empty save for Poof who was busy gnawing on the edges of Copia's pillowcase. You swiped down the long... long... long message for the higher-ups and the ghouls, stopping as soon as you see your title.

[MSG FRM THE CLERGY]

Sibling of Sin, We wish to inform you of the annual Winter Formal in honor of the Dark Lord bringing us all safely through the new year (with the exception of a ghoul incident, that matter has now been disclosed). We would like for everyone to participate; there will be food and beverages, dancing, winter-themed activities, and the like. THIS YEAR'S THEME: Skating Soirée. Please dress accordingly: Sisters and other feminine-presenting Siblings - Evening gowns, any length, heels and/or sandals. Skirts allowed. Brothers and other masculine-presenting Siblings - Suits, jackets, dress pants, dress shoes. Ties optional. Siblings may bring up to one guest of their choice.

You felt a smile creep upon your lips as you read more of the message. A winter formal? Always a fun time. But with Copia? Oh, you had to cover your mouth to prevent a giggle as you envisioned him all dressed up and nervous, holding a bouquet of flowers for you as a gift before escorting you to the party. Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.

A cold chill ran through your bones, and you shivered, making your way to his bathroom closet and pulling out a blue and black colored robe with his trademark C on the left pocket. You wondered where he'd gone off to, slipping out of the room for a brief moment and wandering down to the kitchens where you saw him making a tray to carry back up to his room. His back was facing you, so he had no idea you were there. He just stood there putting a mug of coffee and a small bowl of fruits while humming 'He Is.'

"Ah, there you are, lovely. Good morning," you greeted, walking closer to him. He jumped at the sound of your sweet voice and turned to face you, his jaw opening a bit in shock.

"Ehh.... hello. I-I mean, good- good morning... you look... nice. In my robe." He blushed at the sight of you, trying to take his eyes off of your figure engulfed in his fluffy robe, but it was a very difficult task.

"Thank you. It's very comfortable." You smiled and reached for his mug, taking a small sip of his coffee before making a face and handing it back. "Mm. That's... wow, um. That's really... sweet." you blinked.

He laughed as he watched your reaction. "Oh, uh, yeah... I-I tend to make my coffee very very sweet," he gave you a half-grin and looked down at his Hello Kitty loafers for a moment before looking back up at you. "S-So, uh... did you sleep well?"

You purposefully yawned and stretched your arms up high, the robe revealing a little more skin that normal (okay, maybe just to tease him a little), then nodded. "Yeah, I slept alright."

Copia blinked at you, and you swear you could see the gears turning in his head before he sputtered an incoherent response, which you weren't sure was entirely English. His face was already beet red and he felt the butterflies resurface in his tummy; was he that easy to fluster?

"What's the matter, sweet pea?" You chirped, leaning over the counter and propping your chin with your hand, staring at him innocently, as if you'd done no wrong.

"Oh... uh... nothing... is nothing, h-honey." he mumbled, feeling his ears turn pink as he looked away from you. Did he really just call you honey? He was an idiot.

"Mm, you sure?" you cocked your head to one side, leaning just a bit closer towards his face, almost as if your perfect pouty lips were about to beg for a kiss. As if you thought his face couldn't get any redder, it got redder. His mouth was agape, he was frozen in place, too scared to make a move. He whimpered your name, feeling beads of sweat starting to fall down the side of his face. "Yes, my darling?" You asked innocently, batting your lashes.

"Eh.... n-nothing, just... don't- ugh- just... I'm hot..." he looked away shyly and subconsciously started rubbing his knuckles together slowly. "Yeah, you are," you teased, hopping over the counter to wrap an arm around his tiny little waist, smiling up at him and reveling in his reactions before pulling away with a chuckle.

"You are a cutie pie, y'know that?" you couldn't resist booping his nose gently with your finger, causing him to crinkle it in recoil for a few seconds. "W-Well, uh... maybe I can't deny that I am a cutie pie..." was his weak response, he tried his best to sound confident, but he was too entranced by your beauty.

You hummed with a sweet smile and took another sip of his insanely sweet coffee, not bothering to make a new one yourself. "Oh, by the way, did you see the thing about the winter formal?"

He smiled softly. "Yes, this year's theme is skating soirée, it's gonna be a very fun time... are- are you going to go?" He silently held his breath in anticipation of your answer, hoping it was yes so you could go as a couple.

"Hmm... maybe. Why, were you gonna ask me to go with you?" you smirked, already knowing the answer.

He stopped in his tracks, going silent as his mind raced with thoughts (more negative than positive). He gulped and nodded. "Y-Yeah... actually, I was."

"Hm... let's see, am I doing anything that day, I wonder?" you crunch your face as you pretend to think, attempting to tease him once more.

"Eh... baby...? Please say you're free that day." "...Did you just call me baby?" you gushed.

His face turned scarlet once more. "I-I did?! Mi dispiace, Sorella, I-I didn't mean to-" You cut him off with a giggle. "No, no, don't apologize! I think it's cute you called me that!"

"Oh... okie-dokie, then. I-I will call you that from now on," he nodded firmly, looking even more like a goofball than he was already.

"And to answer your question, yes, I'd love to go with you," you replied with a chuckle, placing your delicate hands on his face so he'd finally look you in the eyes. "I was just teasing earlier. Don't worry your little head, alright?" You pressed a light kiss to his forehead to soothe his nerves.

"O-oh my goodness…" Copia was stunned, a mix of emotions filled his heart. He felt so relieved that you'd go to the formal with him, you'll both be wearing cute outfits and have so much fun that night. He was so excited! "Y-you mean it? Honestly?"

You nodded. "Honest to the Dark One."

You moved to go in for another kiss, your lips barely grazing each other's, hands on each other's waists, eyes closed... but Sister Audrey walked into the kitchen. "Ohhhh my- you- and him!!!"

It was a rush of a morning.

~~~

previous chapter. | next chapter.

#the band ghost #fluff #ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost the band #copia #cardinal copia x sister of sin #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia x reader #female reader #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost x reader #cardi c #sister of sin reader #sister of sin #autistic copia <33 #copia x reader #copia emeritus #copia my beloved #ghost copia #popia copia

[autodiscipline]

Les Soirée 夜の舞踏会/洗礼の章~生誕篇 初回限定 -Birth Arc, Lt. First Edition-, 1999

On the eve of Bastille Day ominous thunder rumbles

In the near-freezing rain the knighted Crie Niere VII laments, "A Love, cursed by fate, is the price of my blood," "I kneel before thy corpse & offer a covenant of blood"

Is it raindrops or rather tears of tragedy running down those cheeks?

The moon just shudders narrowly & answers not

The pair, bound by blood, forbidden to each other, slowly go mad.

Underneath the blessing of fluttering poisonous feathers,

Echoing in the church's cathedral is a beautifully sinful song, is it an eternally undesired love?

　　　　"Thou shalt have thy son, my son, surely born as a noble angel or a god."

　　　　"Surely born as a monster or a demon."

The morning of Bastille Day, hymns are sung, feeble gazes towards the child

A bewitching banquet for those who praise, and disobey God

Beneath the window adorned with rusted candlesticks, time flowed silently through muddy waters

Out of love cursed by immorality, a child was born

In the sky, quivering in despair, a flock of crows gathers & the black hounds howl as though possessed

In time with the noontime bells, in the square of town, the execution of a criminal took place

& the people were ominously blessed with the birth of a child

The gods lament, the demons rejoice, the midwife, the priest & the nobles, conceal their faces in horror,

The child cried out for the first time, like a shriek

　　　　...Go mad ...　

#aliene ma'riage #my scans #translation #(a snippet from SUICIDE～洗礼の章) #long post for aliene ma'riage fans^^ #love the forbidden and tragic incestuous lore

[calyxthenerd]

yo it’s the dude asking abt x reader teehee :3 um do you think you could do one with Cole from awae with a closeted trans male reader who is like quite friendly and extroverted? To his parents maybe he’s like “pretending to be a boy” for convenience of like doing jobs and farm stuff idk (💀) but to him he’s fully happy being a boy?? If this is too hard that’s fine ^^

So, If you want a one shot, just send me another ask, but I’m gonna do hcs, okay?

After wearing Cole’s clothes doesn’t cut it anymore, aunt Josephine takes them both shopping, when the reader tries to deny (because even the most extroverted farmers are humble) she’s like “nonsense, young man, clothes are a way of expressing yourself, so why would you wear something that doesn’t reflect who you are?”

The reader and Anne get along like a house on fire, which is just fine with Cole, because, surely his two favorite people getting along can only be a good thing, right? That’s until they almost set Green Gables on fire for the third time in a row while trying to cook together

Eventually when they find out Cole and reader’s correspondence, his parents kick him out for his “sins” and aunt Josephine takes him in, but she’s adamant of keeping them in separate rooms until a certain age

He loooooves to sew, and has the time of his life working with all the fine fabrics aunt Josephine buys for him, their outfits for her soirées look nothing short of exquisite, and speaking of the soirées, he has the time of his life in those, he’s truly in his element, asking people questions about their outfits, their lives, and everything in between

He and Cole spend hours sitting by the fire and sketching, they have to be reminded to eat, because otherwise they’ll both go hungry for days on end

He is the only other person, besides Cole and Anne, allowed to visit The Cliff Of Inspiration, as dubbed by said redhead (I don’t know if she ever gave it a name)

#cole mackenzie #cole x reader #anne with an e #thanks for the ask!

[nahoyasboyfriend]

Not an ask, just a Jamie imagine for you.

Year 1992. James was aware that it was the end of the golden era for serial killers; very few true sickos left on this Earth to do his bidding. His darling wife's favourite era was the 70s, and so was his - the most depraved men could enact their violent fantasies on unsuspecting victims, and he could consult them on their insanity. If he deemed them worthy, they'd become part of his soirée on Devil's Night, but not all were invited. Somehow, he knew most of America's more prolific killers, as the energy of Cortez seemed to lure them in. But he only invited his friends, his comrades, his brothers in sin.

In 1992, he was sure he was the last of his kind, the last true serial killer left. And he kept searching for new victims. Over the years, he had them less and less frequently. Thrice a week or more when he was alive, about weekly in the 40s and 50s, two a month the next decade, moving to about 5 a year in the 90s. Entertaining people were hard to come by, and his old methods couldn't satisfy his hunger anymore. He was tired of unsuspecting prey; he needed the chase, the game, the hunt to last longer.

He planned this quite meticulously, and his plan was to come to fruition when you walked into the hotel, announcing to the receptionist thst you'll be staying here for two weeks, all alone. Oh, your boyfriend? He left you a few months ago, leaving you depressed, desperate and with quite low self esteem. A perfect target. After a few days at the hotel, you knew something was... off. The bartender was mysterious and gave you hints about the paranormal activity here. You've always believed in spirits, but surely they couldn't ever harm anyone? They were just that, spirits.

After about three days, you started getting scared for real - nightmares, creepy sounds, blood stains that appear and disappear. You were also quite lonely, arriving to the hotel because of a friend's recommendation, yet you had no one to talk to in all of LA. All the spooking was, of course, orchestrated by James. He wanted you vulnerable and delicate for him.

He started talking to you a week after you moved in to your room. A charming, albeit eccentric gentleman he was. Never making advances towards you and always knowing what to talk about. He seemed well-read and intelligent, but also unsettling somehow, fake, as if all his emotions were play pretend. But you, lonely and abandoned, felt attracted to him. So for the next week, you two met up regularly at the hotel bar. He even led you to your room once, and didn't try to invite himself in. Never even suggested sex. You started to wish that he did... he was incredibly attractive and sweet, after all. You were sad when your stay was up, you wanted to stay here longer with the man. So, he paid for your extended stay - just another week. You were too enamored to doubt him, as you two were practically dating already. He introduced himself as James March, told you he was an architect, specializing in the art deco design style. That explained his outdated attire, right? He was amazing at shushing your concerns about him. His cold hands? Oh, low iron levels, my dear, such a nuissance. The lack of knowledge on modern culture and television? Ah, he is just more of a book person, coming from a traditional, intelligent family. He was clearly well off, too. Perfect man.

After the additional week was up, you gave him your phone number and promised to call frequently, maybe meet up. He asked you for one last drink. You agreed, despite how strangely excited he was. Shouldn't he be sad you were leaving?...

"Darling, you have forgotten your suitcase... yes you have, see? Oh, it appears that the drinks proved too strong for you. Yes, I will help you to your room, sweetheart."

You had no idea the drink was spiked. You also had no idea when he led you to room 78 instead of yours, too hazy from whatever drug he dosed you with. When you woke up, you were tied. Your hands above your head, and you stood on a stool. If he removed that stool, you'd be hanging by your hands. The sudden disturbance would cause your shoulders to dislocate and cause unbearable pain... wait, why were you thinking about that? Shouldn't you be getting away?

You looked around, and there he was, sitting on a chaise-lounge and smoking a pipe. He was smiling. You panicked, but stayed silent, waiting for an explanation.

"You've come to your senses, dearest, how wonderful." He pulled a knife out of his cane and you almost stumbled off the stool, "You are in for an amazing night... maybe another day, too. I have been aching for something... different, you see."

He stood up and approached you, blowing the aromatic smoke in your face, making you frown and tremble. Your James did this?... your charming, sweet, one-of-a-kind James Patrick March? Why?...

He smiled. Oh, your panic. So sweet. Oh, he would savor this expression of yours, your delicious fear. You had no idea who he was, had you? He gripped your waist, making you flinch, yet the familiarity of his touch made you feel safe as well as aroused. It was strange.

"You will suffer quite a bit, as my delicate dessert, but I want you to know, you are my most special and cherished prey. It will be an honour having you in my hotel for all of eternity, by my side.", he stated with that charming smile of his.

After that, he began.

-love, Nika

Sorry if it's messy! I wrote it in like 30mins, and on my phone and barely edited😭 I'll write you a part 2 if ur interested <3 bcs I'm always eager to talk about him. Feel free to publish this ask or keep it, whatever u prefer.

#i woke up to this and it was amazing to read first thing in the morning #i'm going to explode #thank you so much for feeding me #i feel spoiled 😭 #i lovveeee seeing what you come up with for this sick sick man #james patrick march

[nullshocked]

Songfic Tag Game

Pick a song to accompany each of your fics or as many as you like. This might be the fic's inspiration or just pure vibes that you'd like to share with readers. Tag as many people as fics you feature (or do as you please!)

I was tagged by @mightymizora and @chronurgy a bit ago and then drafted this post and forgot about it, oops.

Under a cut for length.

"Flood Water" by Nitzer Ebb provided the fic title. It fits the vibe to me anyway.

Say I Don't Mind You Under My Skin

"Degausser" by Brand New provided the fic title, and honestly the entire album has just been inspirational for the Acherye ship. I've had it on repeat and it's going to obliterate my spotify wrapped.

Take me, take me back to your bed I love you so much that it hurts my head Say I don't mind you under my skin I'll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in When we were made we were set apart But life is a test and I get bad marks Now some saint got the job of writing down my sins The storm is coming, the storm is coming in

Fire in Your Eyes and Your Head Held High

There was something in the way that the day broke Thunder rumbled in a darkened sky Wind in your hair, rain on your face Fire in your eyes with your head held high I felt no pain as you walked away I felt no pain it was no surprise And I had to say that I know there's No such thing as a free ride, yeah There's no such thing as a free ride, yeah

Eruption

"Burn" by Sister Machine Gun, purely for the vibes.

What kind of fool am I To want your body next to mine I want your body next to mine I need you any time And I'm breaking down inside Oh Lord I'm breaking down inside You cover me with all your hopeless little fantasies I never had before No, I never had before And now I'm living in my own reality Cause of the things you did to me Oh, the things you did to me

I'll Burn Before You Bury Me

Instead of the obvious, gunna make the weird pull of "Very Cruel" by Poliça

When the applause dies and our hands are untied Will you believe me that I loved you? What a fool I've been To beg you again and again To believe me that I want you Now we both can't sleep I see you in my dreams There you are on the lonely screen

Soirée

"Discipline" by Nine Inch Nails sorry not sorry.

And now it's starting up Feels like I'm losing touch Nothing matters to me Nothing matters as much I see you left a mark Up and down my skin, skin, skin I don't know where I end And where you begin I need your discipline I need your help I need your discipline You know once I start I cannot help myself

#ugh i forgot about this #well #here this is now

[saintsir4n]

A DARK TWISTED FANTASY TEASER

THE FULL MOON

PARINGS: klaus mikaelson x adrienne lumiere

WARNINGS: mentions of the full moon, fluff and klaus being loved up.

Monday, April 3rd, 1918

Surprisingly, Klaus Mikaelson didn't want to be the centre of attention.

shocking... to everyone.

Of course, he needed everyone to know that it was the day he was cursed to the world, that he is the big bad of the city and is the sole entity to be feared.

Usually, a birthday bash with an elite guest list would keep him satisfied, but because of the issues and tragedies he faced recently, he didn't crave it, not as much as something- one else. '

"I don't want a party." the hybrid huffed, not taking his eyes off the present that Adrienne blessed him with.

He sheepishly smiled at what he received. His fingers trailed over the silver chain that she acquired with the help of his sister.

The soul that sees beauty, may sometimes walk alone.

From the second he read the inscription he shed a few tears and pulled her close, mumbling small 'thank yous' and refusing to let go of her. She understood him, she knew him better than anyone.

He had to force himself to move away, to fight the urge to rip off her sheer gown and keep a safe distance.

"A soirée," Adrienne suggested again, shifting closer to the bed, snapping him out of his trance.

He gave her a warning look, hoping that she wouldn't come any closer not that she gave a damn. Her robe loosely hung to her figure just like her undergarments that beckoned him closer.

She was his walking sin and he was always tempted.

"No," Klaus paused, "I told you to want I want." what I need. He thought and judging from the way her lips twitched ever so slightly she knew as well.

"Which is..." she humoured him.

"You."

His words inspired the members burning within to heat her body and turn her gaze away from him, trying to fight off the smile on her lips.

Fuck, a bubbling feeling pooled in her stomach, similar to his. Klaus clasped the chain around his neck and kept his eyes on her, cocking his head to the side and licking his bottom lip.

Adrienne slowly rose from the bed, "But you said that you couldn't be with me on the full moon."

"You can't," he said with a stiff nod, resisting the urge to reach for her.

"I want to stay with you tonight."

His eyes snapped shut as his hands coiled into a fist, "No."

"I'll be fine."

"And I won't be in control," he sharply exhaled, moving off the bed, cautiously opening his eyes and keeping his gaze off Adrienne.

She nodded, smirking at the thought, shuffling closer, "I know."

"I will not put you through that."

"You've almost done it a few times," she countered, sighing at the memories.

Klaus rolled his head, "That's different. You were not grieving then."

He knew the things she did and said whenever she was going through something. She tended to ignore the issues until they presented themselves or simple carry on until she burnt out.

Mira's execution affected them all in ways that they were still dealing with today.

Hell, even Klaus missed the little human, her kindness was rare.

Adrienne blinked at him, "I'm always grieving my love. I need to stay distracted."

He finally stared at her, saddened by her confession, before he replied, "Well that distraction could kill you."

She took a step closer and he didn't move, "I trust you."

"I don't trust myself."

Adrienne huffed and moved in front of him, brushing her hand over his face and trailing her finger over his new chain that dare not to tangle with the others.

Klaus' heart pounded at their proximity and nostrils flared from her scent.

Without blinking he tugged her closer, letting their bodies collide and making her breath hitch at his roughness.

a/n:

Coming Friday.

It will be an emotional world-wind

#wattpad #fanfic #black girl #black reader #adriennelumiere #klaus mikaelson x black reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #witch #klaus mikaleson imagine #1910s #1920s #new orleans

[bonheurportatif]

Quelques trucs bien en janvier

1er janvier Boulotter un sachet de bonbons tout en conduisant Lire de l'espagnol Démêler les cheveux de sa fille

2 janvier Créer un doc unique à partir des vieux trucs bien 2022 Acheter d'occase, à deux pas de chez soi, pile la tête de lit que nous voulions Acheter une nouvelle scie sauteuse et s'en servir de suite 3 janvier Être libéré de son intervention scolaire plus tôt que prévu Faire une sieste Aller au cinéma pour la première fois depuis longtemps 4 janvier Contacter sans traîner le service après-vente et obtenir une réponse satisfaisante Bien avancer sur le gros travail du moment Revoir Liberté-Oléron 5 janvier Avoir le temps d'un petit croissant avant la première réunion de la journée Recevoir les vœux du Colonel Moutarde Voir le magnifique Godland de Pàlmason 6 janvier Boucler l'écriture d'une "balade sonore" S'épargner un aller-retour sur l'île Être franc sur l'inconfort d'une décision que l'on nous demande de prendre 7 janvier Préparer sa célèbre salade d'endives/cerneaux de noix/raisins blonds/fourme d'ambert S’acquitter fissa de la visite au salon d’orientation Cuisiner son célèbre chili sin carne con tofu 8 janvier Prestement évacuer la corvée de la galette Voir coup sur coup deux renards dans les phares de la voiture Voir les nuages jouer avec la pleine lune

9 janvier Écouter tomber les grains Jongler pas trop mal avec plein de tâches différentes Trimballer partout son bouquin du moment pour ne rien perdre de sa lecture 10 janvier Noter une nouvelle idée (un truc avec un jeu de cartes) Rédiger un texte sur demande pour un site que l'on aime bien Aller en famille au cinéma 11 janvier Bricoler, plutôt efficacement Récupérer ses nouvelles affiches Recevoir quelques mails sympathiques, dans le flux habituel des mails chiants 12 janvier Faire rentrer la journée au chausse-pied, mais la faire rentrer Boulotter des petites tartines roquefort/crème d'asperges/tomates S'accorder sur la bonne ampoule pour le bon éclairage 13 janvier Rentrer par la plage Découvrir le plus beau planisphère de la ville Commander un livre prétendument indisponible

14 janvier Écouter Pascal Comelade dans la voiture avec sa fille Trouver le temps de lire, et de courir Dîner chez de vieux amis 15 janvier Bouquiner toute la matinée Récupérer un gros bahut pour la cuisine Entendre la tempête enfler tandis qu'on se met au lit 16 janvier Recevoir une carte postale de vœux de James Bond Sortir plus tôt de l'atelier Dîner tôt, et profiter d'une plus longue soirée 17 janvier Désolidariser le plateau du bahut d'un trait de scie bien ajusté Regarder sauter les milliers de petits grêlons sur les tuiles de la maison d'en face Mini-binger la nouvelle série sur le sexe dans l'art sur Arte 18 janvier Écouter une chanson en croate Écouter un poème en pachto Écouter un dialogue en russe et en cantonais 19 janvier Se réveiller sans réveil Supprimer plus de 1 300 mails, et réorganiser sa messagerie Rénover le bahut de la cuisine 20 janvier Dégivrer le pare-brise en faisant couler doucement de l'eau dessus Se voir entrer dans le brouillard Démarrer ultra-facilement un feu 21 janvier Fabriquer un ensemble d'étagères de cuisine Écouter un poème en mongol Écouter un poème en malgache 22 janvier Fixer en deux temps trois mouvements une petite console murale Rouler à travers champs dans les lumières pâles d'un soleil pâle Marcher chaudement couvert dans la nuit froide 23 janvier Commencer la journée en prenant le temps d'un peu de lecture S'octroyer un même temps de lecture après le déjeuner, avant de retourner à sa tâche Reprendre sa lecture en fin de soirée.

24 janvier Faire une sieste crapuleuse Passer à la librairie Être accueilli par des félicitations, sans d'abord savoir pour quoi 25 janvier Venir à bout de la longue liste d'articles à écrire Retrouver le temps d'un peu de sport Écouter le nouveau morceau de guitare que sa fille s'est appris à jouer 26 janvier Saisir une centaine de nouveaux secrets avec les étudiants Visiter mes librairies Apprendre qu'un événement auquel on ne souhaitait pas trop participer ne va finalement pas se tenir 27 janvier Ne pas travailler aujourd'hui Résister à l'achat d'une saloperie à la supérette Avoir un fou rire familial devant un film 28 janvier Sentir au matin que les jours ralongissent Faire un échange de prisonniers sur l'aire de covoiturage Nettoyer la vitre de l'insert

29 janvier Expédier les grands-mères aussitôt après le café Discuter d'adulte à adulte avec sa plus jeune nièce Voir le cul blanc d'un bambi s'échapper dans la forêt 30 janvier Ne pas lutter contre la sieste Passer la serpillière sur un sol collant Se gaver de tartinades 31 janvier Bouiner sur le net Raconter l'histoire du chien-karaté Profiter d'un peu de temps pour fouiller dans les vieux projets

Ces “Quelques trucs bien” s’inspirent directement des “3 trucs bien” de Fabienne Yvert, publié au Tripode.

#3 trucs bien #Quelques trucs bien #fabienne yvert #Philippe Guerry #Janvier #Janvier 2023 #J'ai failli arrêter

[weatherman667]

RWBY Bachelorette

Producer / Director:  Coco Adel

Co-Producer:  Weiss Schnee.  Coco used all sorts of sophistry to get Weiss to join in.  Weiss agreed simply because she figured her father would immediately refuse to fund it.  Jacques Schnee’s reaction was to immediately see dollar signs, and agreed to provide full support.

Cameraman:  Velvet Scarlatina

Bachelorette:  Pyrrha Nikos.  Only agreed to it because Coco fully assured her of her right to refuse.  When Pyrrha was suspicious, Coco pointed out that her refusing all of them would be more dramatic and leave room open for a sequel.  They could probably get 10 seasons from Untouchable Pyrrha.

Chief Researcher:  Blake Belladonna.  Agreed when told it would give her exclusive access to the Adel family’s private library.  There was SO much corruption she could prove with that library.  And probably out of print novels.

Temptation - Low Level:  Ruby.  Brought in primarily because Yang thought it would held her come out of her shell a bit.  Also, secretly, she hoped that putting Ruby and Jaune in the same awkward situation would bring them together.  Especially since the Ice Queen is still being an Ice Queen.

Temptation - High Level:  Yang.  Initially refused, then gave in when Coco said she’d just do it herself.  Does Coco really think she can out-flirt YANG XIAO LONG?!  I think not.  Coco would then resort to constant, low-level vivaciousness, and slinky dresses.

Soiré Dance Partners:  NDGO.

Butler:  Lie Ren.

Maid:  Nora Valkyrie.  Brought in after Yang convinced Coco that Nora would be a WAY more dramatic maid.  Give the Bachelors a chance / requirement to think outside the box.  Also, she would totally accept a low-ball offer just for the chance to join in.

Server:  The Shopkeeper.  In the background of every shot, and runs every food stand they conveniently stop at.

Spy:  Fox.  Officially a go-for on set, but really there to overhear conversations and pass the juicy details onto Coco.

Bachelors:

Sun:  Convinced that he’s the one that can win Pyrrha.  He honestly doesn’t think it will affect his chances with Blake.  Which is true, because his chances are near zero as it is.

Neptune:  Agreed when Sun convinced him that when he loses, (because this is PYRRHA NIKOS we’re talking about), he will be the most eligible bacherlor.

(note:  Remainder of Team SSSN not invited because they will quickly be forgotten as soon as they are dropped).

Nadir Shiko:  Brought in to be the bad boy to round out the cast.

Cardin Winchester:  Brought in to force the men to take this seriously.  While Nadir is the midboss bad boy, Cardin is a genuine physical threats. Will immediately try to dominate the show, and will likely require a coalition to take down.  Will definitely be the first one kicked out, but the one week he’s there will really shake things up.

Peter Port:  Didn’t take much to convince him he’s a serious contender.  Instead, he’s there to provide a brash charm to force the others to assert themselves.

Yatsuhashi (refused):  Knows he’s not good enough to take on Pyrrha Nikos.  This would actually put him ahead of most of the contenders, but he still noped out of it.

Junior:  A genuine threat in every way, though much less obviously than most of the others.

Ironwood (refused):  He’s the most eligible bachelor in Atlas if he just pulled the rod out of his ass.  But, it seems the rod is surgically attached. Coco tried rhetoric, sophistry, bribery, and that all failed.  Tried blackmail, but his sins were all public.

Whitley Schnee:  Jacques managed to think he forced Coco to use him, but Coco definitely wanted to use him anyways.  They both think they outsmarted each other.

Jaune Arc:  Immediately refused, it took a lot of effort to convince him.  Yang put a LOT of effort into getting everyone to encourage him, because she tot’s knows that Pyrrha has an epic thing for him.  Coco sees this too, and think it would make for an epic finale.

#rwby

[edeliexii]

voglia di viaggiare | a self para ∞

PART I.

holy matrimony —- nupitals. the tenderness of it all evokes numbness, blinded by the occurrence looming to take place. chocolate strands of hair curled against the crevices of her neckline and heels clunked against the laminated floor, adapting herself to the immersive culture of supernatural species. she momentarily visualizes herself committed in a white gown though only foolishly, blinded by a ferocious feeling of unrequited love which deprived her of sensation. nonetheless, the brunette poured herself into the affection dazzling the air, cherishing the union of two vampires all while pouring herself into the traditions of eladrins. from the queen to the winter chancellor, two women èdelie desired to be, she partly felt at home... but still longed for something more internally. 

upon the soirée, cabernet sauvignon turned to pinot noir, and pinot noir turned to sangiovese. the fey flourished by the incoherent thinking stemming by the intoxicants ingested, muddling her mind, finding comfort by gallivanting in the figment of her imagination. she soon began convincing herself of past ideologies during her time as a halfblood, mirroring the foolishness she previously thought when she was also dubbed a human because of the falsehood spread by her parents. immortality is a sin, and there’d be no more of èdelie as long as she trails the diabolical behavior of all things eladrin. that is what induces painfully, distorting her perspective of potential as a fey.

pangs of conscience made her feel regretful, attempting to compel herself on returning to life as a mortal and the lack of trails she’d deal with had it not been for the damned prize months prior. thus èdelie wandered....

               and wandered, 

and wandered for minutes at end, running after her mouth  —-  running after her soul, and hunting desperately for the an alternate heavenly body. 

PART II.

èdelie’s an abysmal fey, or so she tells herself. if it wasn’t for absolute greed, she’d be nothing more than a mutt, she’s sure of this, though part of this doctrine is from the dozens of wine consumed. deplorable and filled with selfish desires, she behaves according to what the skewed thoughts in her head wired her to do even if it meant hurting herself physically and emotionally. after all, there’s nothing more heinous than a plastered drunk. she lacks originality... she sought too much for authority, she has no home; she has no one, isolating herself into the horrid images curating inside her head.

--------- 

one mistake became too many with the first being droplets of blood soaking the table cloth of where she sat, apologizing to the winter chancellor and guests for her outlandish behavior. it derives from her fixation to do it all, generating frustration, prompting her enhanced strength to create the smallest split of her glass beverage, wounding èdelie in the process. she’d not know what’s to come, challenged by emotional difficulties because of her inability to do anything right. like a child waiting to be coddled, the reassurance gifted by one of the most profound leaders of her community only eased èdelie temporarily, triggering anger at the newfound information of a lycan bite capable of decapitating her when handed a protective circlet.

guilt flooded the winter fey almost immediately. cue another alcohol beverage cradled in her hand, devouring the booze one by one; a toxic reflection of èdelie’s effort to keep her head above water despite the surface wanting to bring her down. 

stillness, however, lingered in the air... and something so unintentional happened so fast. as socialization is one of the primary tasks of the evening, she thought nothing of voluntarily making her presence known through rounds of conversations with different species. it’s the recollection of a familiar face that specifically wired her to engage in discourse without realizing the change in atmosphere. darkness floored the room and a sheer reminder of not bleeding the same as others crept through. unfortunately, she failed to not lose sight of this fact before incisors pierced her flesh. 

PART III.

to feed is, at times, is the means to kill, and is also the means to survive. she couldn’t dare move to resist the aching pain of her soul mangled into a vampires own. she couldn’t dare reach forth for her closest confidants to rescue her without fear of them potentially experiencing harm. emma, micah, farenduil, aurora, dion —- even eric, èdelie’s body ached for them in more ways than imaginable, yet she’s soon consumed by an influx of vampires. 

unable to fend for herself, she swallowed her frantic cries. 

formerly a feathery ice crystal, she perished under the toppling of several vampires, overwhelmed by the lack of feeling within the tip of her toes. 

she’s desensitized. her vision blurs. particles of sweat trickles from the perimeter of her forehead. tears stream down her cheeks. in a short time, èdelie’s at peace.

it goes without stating that the fragility of èdelie expected death to await her. from the violent threats exchanged between herself and her former lover to the damned acceptance by feys for abandoning halfbloods, èdelie sought no way out other than to burn in the pits of hell as punishment for her wrongdoings. 

numbness is now acceptance. 

she sought no other course of action than for her head to be at the forefront of a silver platter. she embodies deception and stupidity, it serves her right. even when freed by the actions of the winter chancellor, convulsive movements happen, inhaling the rich scent of her blood which now coated the entirety of her caramel colored dress worn to the wedding.

 the grand wedding. the red wedding.

PART IV. blended into the fibers of the ground, there’s no concrete plan on the next steps. her mind went blank, laying in a puddle of silence. magic temporarily ceased, vampires fed erratically, and after a while, the brunette assumed she wasn’t meant to be found by any of her confidents. èdelie’s spiritedness dwindled as the minutes passed, incapable of longing for the best. what she does know, or automatically assumed, is that the overall construction of eladrins would be no more. it’s impossible, anathematized after all that’s transpired. 

many have tried to make feys powerless and vampires were capable of conquering that throughout the duration of the evening; èdelie happens to be a prime example of just that.

incoherent, an accustomed odor filled her nostrils, moaning at the delicacy of familiar hands holding her weight. she knew all too well of who stood before her, though fearful of what lies ahead. slender digits could weakly attempt to grab a fist full of their hair, inaudibly crying, “waar was je!”, but she’s hardly heard as her cocoa-colored hues rolled back.

—- her liefde, her maan en de sterren, her nachtmerrie.  

and as much she she fought to maintain the indignation held against them, all of it slipped when the vulnerability extended to their flesh and bones. it’s frightening how transferable their exchange of energy is. 

she yearned nothing more than to lie in the comfort of their skin, embarrassed by wave of sorrow spilling into them, though it comes to a halt when the tiredness from her lack of vitality soon fades everything to an absence of light.

#èdelie / character musings. #èdelie / senatushq : self para. #tw suicidal thoughts #tw alcoholism #tw blood

[nexgenforge]

From Riches to Richer: Navigating My Bold Leap Into Affluence 2.0

In the wild, wild world of dating, they say you have to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince. But what if, after years of searching, you didn't find a frog, a prince, or even a mildly aristocratic toad, but instead, stumbled upon a veritable dragon hoarding unimaginable wealth? Would you run screaming back to the moat, or would you saddle up with a fireproof suit and embark on a journey to love, adorned with more gold than a pirate’s dreams? Ladies and gentlemen, buckle up as I share my hilarious encore in the game of affluence – moving on from one affluent love to embark on a romantic odyssey with Affluence 2.0. Realizing the Bar Has Been Raised... And It’s Made of Solid Gold Once upon a time, I was content with the lavish displays of affection that come with dating someone wealthy. Helicopter dates? Check. Private island picnics? Double-check. But once you've had your first quantum leap into luxury, there's no going back. You see, after our amicable parting of ways (because when you date the affluent, you don’t break up, you "strategically re-align"), I realized that my next love affair needed something more... something richer. The Mating Dance of the Affluently Unattached Enter the world of Affluence 2.0 dating – a realm where last season’s Gucci is a mortal sin, and your arrival vehicle better be manufactured in Germany, Italy, or better yet, not of this Earth. Strapping on my bravest Louboutins, I set out on a quest, armed with nothing but my wit and a suddenly inadequate credit score. The dating scene had evolved. Dinners consisted of dishes I couldn't pronounce, paired with wines older than my lineage. I learned to smile and nod at art auctions, with a paddle that somehow always seemed to autonomously bid on abstract pieces that resembled my toddler niece's refrigerator art. Love in the Time of Compound Interest Then it happened. Amid the frivolity and the soirées, I found them – my Affluence 2.0. With a carbon footprint smaller than my apartment (because apparently, green is the new gold), and a penchant for philanthropy that would make a saint blush, this was the wealth redefined. The kind of person who says, “Let's take the jet,” and means an electric one. Our courtship was a whirlwind of sustainability and opulence. We adopted endangered animals instead of buying pets. We didn't just travel; we "invested in global economies." It was like finding a four-leaf clover, but instead of luck, it bestowed tax deductions. My New Affluent Love – An Emerald Among Diamonds Amidst this uproariously extravagant lifestyle, I learned a few things. First, that the real joy in life doesn't come from the material (though, let's be honest, it doesn't exactly hurt). And second, that moving from one affluent love to another isn't about finding someone with deeper pockets, but about finding someone with whom you can build a richer life – in all the ways that truly matter. As I pen this tale from my zero-emissions, solar-powered yacht (because apparently those exist now), I can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Love, whether draped in silk or sustainability, is a wonderfully ridiculous adventure. And as for Affluence 2.0? They’re not just my new love. They’re my new chapter in a forever expanding story of life, love, and the pursuit of eco-conscious opulence. So, here's to moving on, trading up, and discovering that sometimes, the best way to find true wealth is to simply follow the laughter echoing through the halls of your heart. Or, you know, check your latest love interest’s stock portfolio. Either way, you're bound for an adventure. Read the full article

[silviascorcella]

Greta Boldini: “Disincanto”, un viaggio dantesco nel sogno couture

Bellissima! Sognante! Emozionante! Eppur così concreta da poter già essere immaginata indosso con raffinata nonchalance. Scorri le immagini con lo sguardo allacciato alla mente e al desiderio, ascolti le mani che applaudono pronte ed entusiaste: ogni abito è uno scrigno di suggestioni e dettagli, ogni creazione è un gesto di poesia in stoffa e particolari preziosi.

L’intera collezione Greta Boldini autunno-inverno 2019-20 è un inno rinnovato verso la femminilità autentica, la cui cura aggraziata eppur determinata è al cuore del brand sin dai suoi esordi. Ovvero, le donne che percorrono le strade quotidiane della vita, che indossano la confortevolezza necessaria, e che insieme alla sveltezza pratica scelgono la bellezza. Sempre. Senza indugio alcuno, perché è lì, nella bellezza, che ci trovano dentro il percorso da intraprendere per compiere il viaggio tra le emozioni, quelle vere e personali, calate nel quotidiano: tentazione, paura, desiderio, sacrificio, lavoro, speranza, felicità e sogno. 

La collezione Greta Boldini è dunque una riflessione aggiornata sulla femminilità e le sue emozioni, che prende la forma dell’invito al viaggio attraverso il sogno.

Un viaggio interiore che si rispecchia in uno esteriore: un percorso composto secondo la ricchezza complessa ricalcata sull’itinerario della Divina Commedia dantesca, ma che prende avvio da un suggerimento così sottile eppur potente come uno spiraglio spalancato sulla verità: il momento più adatto ad intraprendere l’esplorazione delle sfumature di emozioni che ci abitano dentro non è l’ebrezza dell’innamoramento, bensì quell’istante successivo che piomba svelto a dichiarare la verità, ripulendoci dalla coltre morbida delle illusioni. Il momento del disincanto.

S’intitola Disincanto, appunto, la collezione originata da un’intenzione: spogliare i capi dalle decorazioni “soirée”. Et voilà, ne son nati cento capi che raccontano il quotidiano di bellezza raffinata e confortevole: cento, come i canti della Divina Commedia. E come il cammino di Dante stesso, la donna Greta Boldini parte dall’inferno, il luogo dell’opulenza sensuale, tinto di nero intenso, bordeaux e un viola vibrante e violento ma illuminato dall’oro, ambientato nella selva della Borgogna dove sono presenti anche le celebri fiere, la lonza con una stampa leopardata, il leone con una pelliccia di puro mohair (eco), e la lupa con un bouclé di pura lana, crudo, nero, vagamente ispido.

Dalla Borgogna l’inferno raggiunge la seduzione della vita notturna di Parigi, con lo sguardo e gli spacchi illuminati dalle frange e dalle tiare di Swarovski.

Il cammino prosegue nel Purgatorio, ovvero i pascoli della Normandia: qui l’atmosfera diviene bucolica, la sensualità è più terrena, gli abiti si vestono di rosa cipria, tabacco, lana, panna, velluti a coste attraversati da ramage di fiori, velluto effetto pony, frange di mohair e perle delicate che impreziosiscono il volto.

L’ascesa in Paradiso ha l’atmosfera della baia di Mont Saint Michel: il luogo dove vige la purezza, gli abiti sono pervasi dalla luce divina, dai colori del cielo e dell'alba, da una stampa che con le stelle e i putti che ospita l'ultimo celebre verso della Divina Commedia. Qui la bellezza è impalpabile e immacolata: cascate di tulle e organze, voile di cotone, pizzo francese di angora. Qui, in Paradiso, tutto è couture: abiti realizzati con 40 metri di tulle, mini-dress fatti con 9 metri di organza, le perle che dal viso ascendono ai capelli e si raggruppano preziose negli orecchini.

Qui, nel percorso tra i tre mondi danteschi raccontati in opere di sogno e sartoria, brilla concreta e bellissima la donna Greta Boldini.

Che, nelle parole del suo stilista Alexander Flagella: ‟è poesia, danza, sogno, colore, sorpresa, una rosa che sboccia a maggio, una pioggia d'estate, è emozione, è un pianto, è immaginazione, è rivoluzione, è innocenza, è amore, delicatezza, una risata di un bambino, un pianoforte che suona all'infinito, è una donna che racconta, è una donna che ascolta, è meraviglia, è pane tostato, profumo di gelsomino, un campo di grano, è una carezza, brezza marina, è una preghiera sussurrata, è miele, un bicchiere di vino mai vuoto. È vita‟.

Silvia Scorcella

{ pubblicato su Webelieveinstyle }

#Greta Boldini #modaindipendente #nuovoMadeinItaly #nuovitalenti #webelieveinstyle #Alexander Flagella #storiedaindossare

[pulsdmedia]

The Week Ahead 10/22-10/28

Calling all ghouls & afterlife dwellers! Halloweekend is fast approaching, so don't get left in the dark...

$89: Refinery Rooftop Halloween Party With 3Hr Premium Open Bar & Food

Prepare for dazzling night brimming with revelry, allure, and intrigue at Refinery Hotel's annual Halloween party, this time with a "MAD" twist! The Hatsquerade invites you to don your most exciting toppers for this "Alice In Wonderland"-inspired fête. The indoor & outdoor spaces that make up the rooftop are simply sensational, showcasing bohemian opulence and views of the Empire State Building. The drinks will flow, be it mixologist-mastered cocktails, divine wines, or craft beers, putting you in the mood for a bit of mischief! Dance to the sounds of a live DJ as shenanigans make lasting memories, and when cravings kick in, you'll devour passed hors d'oeuvres. Mark your calendars, don fantastical hats, and prepare to be amazed...

$99 Tickets To A 4 Hour Premium Open Bar Halloween Party At Arlo SoHo

A horrifyingly haute atmosphere awaits at Arlo SoHo, whose Halloween Bash is bigger and better than ever this year! For your sinful partying pleasure, you'll be treated to an all-access pass to this ultra-cool locale, which is transforming 3 of its coveted spaces into wicked wonderlands for you and your crew to savor! The fully-stocked bar is at your service, ready to craft tantalizing concoctions. Be amazed by Sinister Acts as the DJ will set the tone for the evening. The Costume Contests with enticing prizes will add a competitive edge, while a Photobooth will allow you to capture the spirit. Plus, find solace in an array of mouthwatering delicacies that will delight your supernatural taste buds...

$29 Ticket To The Disco Til You Die Open Bar At Lost Spirits, Flatiron

Step into the eerie embrace of Lost Spirits' Disco ‘Til You Die Halloween Party, where the glitz and glamour of disco meets the mysterious and macabre. Add in an endless array of cocktails, hard seltzers, and beers, and you'll be feeling like an ultra-groovy ghoul in no time. The air is thick with a sense of enchantment, as the haunting tunes of the DJ weave seamlessly between iconic disco tracks and spine-tingling remixes. Forget trick-or-treating. Journey into this glittering world of bewitching thrills...

$29 Tix: The TerrorVision Immersive Haunted House Experience

Submerge yourself into TerrorVision - a Time Out-applauded, unparalleled immersive horror experience. This isn't just horror – this is a cinematic journey through your most haunting nightmares! This heart-pounding immersive experience unfolds over three different attractions as you star in your own horror adventure. You and your fright-loving friends will work your way through interactive displays of ghoulish, ghastly scenes sure to make your scream! Imagine the world of cinema's most terrifying scenes and stories – now imagine walking through it...

$15 Ticket To The Angels & Demons Open Bar Halloween Party At Ainsworth Midtown

Mark your calendars for a spine-tingling soirée! Ainsworth Midtown's Angels & Demons Open Bar Halloween Party invites you to seize the opportunity to choose your destiny as they seamlessly blend the realms of heaven and the underworld into an unforgettable night of revelry! Take a seat on the rooftop and soak in the crisp fall breeze and views of Midtown, or cuddle up to alluring, intimate corners at this gem. A bewitching Vodka Open Bar will kickstart the night as you choose your destiny. To add to the fun, DJs will spin on the ones and twos to get your bones shaking, your halos hopping, and your pitchforks pumping!

$39 Ticket To A Very Emo 3 Hour Open Bar Halloween Party

The time to make plans is narrowing down, so revel in Halloween indulgence by stepping back in time to the early 2000's at Oliver's A Very Emo Halloween party. Enjoy a 3 Hour Open Bar of Specialty Themed Cocktails, Wines, and Beers. A live DJ will be spinning Dashboard Confessional, Fall Out Boy, Taking Back Sunday, Panic! at the Disco, Brand New and many, many more, so whether you come dressed as your most angsty teen self, or stick to something spine-tingling to fill the night with frights, expect to have a blast. Costumes are a must at this freaky spectacular – and no getup is too outlandish! It's time to raise the roof and the dead - or just "Dance, Dance"...

The Halloween Collection

This is only the beginning of your most fabulous Halloween nightmares. Check out these 30 fabulously spooky parties!

#pulsd #newyork #nyc #nyclife #newyorkcity #foodie

[kpwx]

No se puede negar que pasar mucho tiempo sin una pareja estable aburre: quieras o no, tarde o temprano el corazón (mejor dicho, la cabeza) y el cuerpo te lo terminan pidiendo. Pero cuando vas alcanzando una edad en la que empiezas a tener responsabilidades en serio las relaciones también comienzan a serlo (sin ir más lejos, mis padres a mi edad ya estaban casados y tenían un hijo)…, y eso asusta un poco. Si tuviste la suerte de atinarle a la persona correcta, genial; si, por el contrario, escogiste sin saberlo a una persona especialmente dañina, las posibilidades de que no puedas terminar de forma rápida y definitiva esa relación aumentan considerablemente. ¿Y qué hay peor que estar atado a alguien que no solo no aporta en tu vida, sino que la perjudica? En los peores casos, el daño (emocional, psicológico, económico) puede llegar a niveles que hasta pongan en riesgo tu propia existencia. La confesión de Claude trata esto, y lo hace bastante bien.

La atmósfera fría y desconsoladora, la claustrofóbica habitación en la que miserablemente viven y la insoportable apatía de Laurence: todo en esta novela provoca una incómoda y asfixiante sensación. La forma en que la historia está narrada me gustó (ya he dicho alguna vez que siento predilección por las novelas epistolares); y el final, aunque es cliché, no desentona. Realmente puedo decir que he sufrido leyendo el libro, lo que es un elogio, pues es lo que busca. No será la mejor obra de Zola (nadie crea una obra maestra la primera vez que escribe una novela), pero sí que vale mucho la pena.

No me resisto a dejar algunos pasajes deprimentes, al menos para dar una idea de la atmósfera en la que se da esta tormentosa historia:

Cuando suenan las once, salto de la cama. El frío húmedo de los azulejos que me hiela bruscamente la planta de los pies me saca de mis sueños. Siento que estoy tiritando y me cubro apresuradamente. Después camino por la habitación, yendo de la ventana a la puerta, echando un vistazo a la muralla, que es mi único horizonte, y volviendo a mirar a Laurence sin mirarla. Fumo, bostezo, intento leer. Tengo frío y me aburro. Laurence despierta. Entonces comienzan los sufrimientos. Hay que comer. Deliberamos. Buscamos en el cuarto cualquier objeto para venderlo. A menudo renunciamos al almuerzo cuando el problema es demasiado difícil de resolver y está todo dicho. Cuando encontramos un trapo viejo, unos papeles, cualquier cosa, Laurence se viste y va a ofrecer la deplorable mercancía a algún revendedor que le da ocho o diez monedas. Traerá algún panecillo y algo de charcutería, que comemos de pie, sin hablarnos. Laurence se tumba en la cama o camina con lentitud. Arrastra su vestido de seda azul, que parece que llora cuando se arruga con los muebles. Ese andrajo está amarillento de grasa, desagarrado, con las costuras descosidas, desgastado en los pliegues. Laurence deja que se pudra y que se caiga a cachos, sin limpiarlo ni arreglarlo. Se lo pone de buena mañana, pues es lo único que tiene, y se pasea así todo el día, por esta habitación miserable, con el cabello suelto, con un vestido de soirée de amplio escote que deja al descubierto su espalda y su cuello. Y este vestido, esta seda suave de color azul pálido que aún brilla en algunos puntos, es un andrajo infame, torcido, marchito, lamentable. Una indescriptible angustia anida en la visión conmovedora de estos jirones de un rico tejido de lujo arrastrado en la miseria, en estos hombros enrojecidos por el frío. Siempre recordaré a Laurence caminando, vestida así, en el cuchitril de mis veinte años. El problema del pan se hace terrible y acuciante por la noche. Comemos… o no. Luego nos acostamos hastiados y adormecidos. Al día siguiente la vida vuelve a empezar, más apremiante y áspera cada día que pasa.