#Leaves&039; Eyes

[gbhbl]

EP Review: Attractive Chaos - Tame & Conquer (Self Released)

Franco-Italian melodic metal band Attractive Chaos return with their second EP, Tame & Conquer which is to be released independently on the 14th of August. Attractive Chaos are mastering the art of painting wonderful, intimate portraits of the emotions that define us within their music. The grand scale of our hopes and ambitions, the quiet depths of our loves, the consuming heat of our obsessions…

[ilragliodelmulo]

Leaves' Eyes - Myths of fate

ENGLISH VERSION BELOW: PLEASE, SCROLL DOWN! I Leaves’ Eyes, per la prima volta orfani dello storico membro Tosso, hanno da qualche mese rilasciato il nuovo album “Myths of Fate” (AFM Records), un concentrato di metal epico e sinfonico. E’ stato un gentilissimo Alexander Krull a rispondere alle nostre domande… Bentornato su Il Raglio del Mulo Alex , il vostro nuovo album “Myths of Fate” è uscito…

[metalshockfinland]

LEAVES’ EYES Celebrate Record Release Day with Breathtaking 'Hammer of the Gods' Music Video

[photo: Stefan Heilemann] Symphonic metal vikings LEAVES’ EYES, who are currently on tour with METALITE and CATALYST CRIME (find all remaining dates listed below!), have unleashed a breathtaking video clip in support of their much-acclaimed, new studio album “Myths Of Fate“, that is out today on AFM Records! Order your copy of the band’s new magnum opus now…

[ladiesinrock]

Leaves' Eyes: una data in Italia ad aprile 2024

I Leaves’ Eyes annunciano il nuovo tour europeo. La band symphonic metal norvegese sarà in Italia per un unico appuntamento che si terrà il prossimo 2 Aprile 2024 presso il Legend Club di Milano.In apertura ci saranno due band brillanti: NorthTale e Catalyst Crime. LEAVES’ EYES + NorthTale + Catalyst Crime 2 aprile 2024 – Legend Club, Milano Biglietti disponibili online solo su DICE.25 euro +…

[ur-mag]

Why Queer Eye's Bobby Berk Was 'Asked to Leave' After Season 8 (Source) | In Trend Today

Why Queer Eye’s Bobby Berk Was ‘Asked to Leave’ After Season 8 (Source) Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[rockyoushow]

Review For ORDEN OGAN'S 'Final Days- Orden Ogan And Friends'

Review For ORDEN OGAN’S ‘Final Days- Orden Ogan And Friends’

The emerging Power Metal band ORDAN OGAN has done something I don’t recall seeing before, they have reissued their more recent release with all new vocalists. An interesting concept to say that least and it actually worked brilliantly.I give credit to frontman and producer Seeb Leverman for moving a project like this forward. The band used labelmates and friends, but that can still be a challenge…

[ad0rechuu]

۪ ★ ۫ MILKY WAY ୨୧

based on milky way by seohyun

SYNOPSIS. ━━━━━ It’s not everyday that your friends childhood friend turns out to be the girl that you literally have a fan account for, but for Seonghwa, San and Mingi it’s become a reality. being able to get close to your bias is great! even if she does have a raging crush on someone else…

6mar23 | st. 09/03/23 ━ fn. 31/08/23

pairing. ━━━━━ college students! fans! park seonghwa, choi san, song mingi x fem! idol! reader (x idol! oc)

featuring. ━━━━━ ateez, kang seulgi (red velvet), fatou samba (black swan), park sujin aka swan (purple kiss), shin yuna (itzy), do hanse (former victon) oc, fem oc

genre. ━━━━━ smau, written, humor/crack, fluff, angst, suggestive, love square, idol/college au, strangers to friends to lovers, really slow burn, pinning, secret identity

warnings. ━━━━━ i’m not a native english speaker so my english might be a little off sometimes ! ! ! timestamps/sm numbers mean nothing, sexism/slutshaming, swearing, mentions of food/sex/serious topic, kys/kms and other questionable jokes, use of pictures for yn but only for reference (only of dark skin poc used), cyber bullying, ssngs, mental illness/anxiety, mentions of alcohol/drugs. small age gaps, more thorough warnings in the actual chapters, let me know if missed smth

notes. ━━━━━ the taglist is closed, spam likes are fine but consider reblogging with comments of ur thoughts (not only on my work but on other authors work too!) credits to the rightful owners of all the graphics n music

PROFILES. ━━━━━ SANRIO TRASH (STAR) ᜊ THE VIRGINITY CORNER (ATEEZ + YNS BBGS) ᜊ EXTRAS

PART 1. PRE TIME SKIP :

★ CH 000. prologue: HONGJOONG HAS FRIENDS?!

★ CH 001. CLONE FANTASY

★ CH 002. THE JASPER TO MY SHERLOCK

★ CH 003. SUS, VERY SUS

★ CH 004. DON’T LEAVE ME TALL FUCK

★ CH 005. EDIBLE SCENTED CANDLE

★ CH 006. MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW

★ CH 007. ONE OF THE GIRLIES

★ CH 008. SHES SO PRECIOUS!!

★ CH 009. IS YN OKAY?

★ CH 010. NO FANBOYING

★ CH 011. INTRODUCTIONS: PART I

★ CH 012. INTRODUCTIONS: PART II

★ CH 013. SUPER COOL AND HOT (RESPECTFULLY)

★ CH 014. AESPA WAS RIGHT

★ CH 015. GODDAMNIT PARK SEONGHWA

★ CH 016. WHAT THE H*CK

★ CH 017. I’M SO HASTAG SRS

★ CH 018. OPERATION: YNGYU

★ CH 019. HE’S UP TO NO GOOD

★ CH 020. PRAISE KINK ERA

★ CH 021. BAES JUST LIKE ME FR

★ CH 022. NVM Y’ALL HE RESPONDED

★ CH 023. TWO HEART EMOJIS

★ CH 024. RPS LEGEND

★ CH 025. KANG POMPOMPURIN

★ CH 026. BEGINNING OF A CHEESY ROMCOM

★ CH 027. WTFDYM

★ CH 028. IMAGINE NOT TALKING

★ CH 029. BLACK LIST SPEED RUN

★ CH 030. AS LONG AS SHE’S HAPPY

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART i )

PART 2. POST TIME SKIP :

★ CH 031. BOMBASTIC SIDE EYE

★ CH 032. AS HOT AS I EXPECTED

★ CH 033. MY BABIES (AND KIM HONGJOONG)

★ CH 034. EVEN THE YANDERES

★ CH 035. DONGSAENG ZONED

★ CH 036. A STRANGE FEELING

★ CH 037. OLD FRIENDS

★ CH 038. I DON’T THINK I’M OKAY

★ CH 039. MINGI UR A PATHOLOGICAL LIAR

★ CH 040. LOVELY

★ CH 041. STEP BY STEP

★ CH 042. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

★ CH 043. OOPS

★ CH 044. WHATDIDIDOTOMYSELF

★ CH 045. LOVE LETTERS TO LEE HYORI

★ CH 046. LOSER DOESN’T EVEN DESCRIBE IT

★ CH 047. IF ONLY SHE KNEW

★ CH 048. LE’ ASTRE

( EXTRA. STAR’S 5TH MINI ALBUM :: LE’ ASTRE )

★ CH 049. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S UNHOLY

★ CH 050. I’M ALRIGHT, I PROMISE

★ CH 051. BUTTERFLIES

★ CH 052. #STAR IS KILLING ME

★ CH 053. OK? OK! OK

★ CH 054. PURSUE HAPPINESS

★ CH 055. WHY DID YOU NEVER TELL ME

★ CH 056. THE TRUTH

★ CH 057. SERA WATANABE

★ CH 058. XD

★ CH 059. MILKY WAY

★ CH 060. LOVE

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART ii )

ENDING O1.

★ 00i. PERUVIAN LILIES

★ 0ii. THE PRETTIEST

ENDING O2.

★ 00i. WHAT MAKES HIM, HIM

★ 0ii. LOM(OMMY)L



ENDING O3.

★ 00i. FINAL PUZZLE PIECE

★ 0ii. MINE.

★ AFTER WORD.

milky way © ad0rechuu, 2023. do not copy/repost.

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( a collection of various settings for drabbles or prompts, or both! )

001. a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork . 002. a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 003. a cabin in the mountains, taking shelter from the snow storm. 004. an abandoned tea party, occupied with broken dolls . 005. the shooting range, empty casings clinking on the floor and sulphur in the air . 006. a music room, filled with melodies of an instrument . 007. an empty auto shop, hood of a car left open and quiet music coming through speakers . 008. a bright arcade, coins falling from machines and claws grabbing at soft toys . 009. the kennels, filled with barking dogs and excited companions . 010. a restaurant, where everyone is eerily quiet and staff are overly friendly . 011. a riding arena, with trained riders atop proud horses . 012. a mini golf course, sails of a windmill obscuring the path ahead . 013. a zoo, filled with an array of unique animals . 014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks . 015. a pond with ducks, seeking food . 016. a museum, displaying ancient bones and pottery of a history long ago . 017. a closed down prison, ghosts of violent history echoing in empty cells . 018. a quiet train station, lights overhead flickering and announcement board displaying errors . 019. the vast desert, scorching heat baring down at high noon . 020. the dark woods, filled with strange hanging symbols made of sticks . 021. a deep hole in the ground, covered by leaves and sticks . 022. a wishing fountain, base lined with copper coins of past wishes . 023. an abandoned picnic in an empty field, flask still warm with coffee . 024. a barn filled with hay and tools, old wood creaking in the wind . 025. a graveyard in the dead of night, wind howling through the trees . 026. a crumbling bridge above a raging river . 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . 028. the crossroads, in the middle of nowhere . 029. a cosy bonfire at summer camp, marshmallows roasting on the fire . 030. the top of a radio tower, with the perfect view of the surrounding area . 031. a lone phone box on a street corner . 032. a large elaborate temple dedicated to a deity, offerings still intact . 033. a drive-in movie theatre, cars empty and projector casting only light onto the screen . 034. a strange trail of breadcrumbs on a woodland path . 035. a haunted mansion, ancient paintings watching every footstep . 036. a decrepit mine located out in the hills, believed by locals to have a powerful curse cast upon it . 037. the edge of a cliff, overlooking the rough waves and distant sounds of approaching danger . 038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . 039. a flower shop, filled with bouquets and a sweet aroma . 040. an airport in the early hours of the morning, deprived of sleep . 041. a train on its way to its destination, a sleeping passenger resting on a shoulder . 042. an abandoned shack filled with strange books of the occult and something mysterious bubbling on the stove . 043. an empty throne room, moonlight glimmering through tall windows . 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . 045. deep within unmarked cave located in the side of a mountain, lit only by a flare . 046. the dusty streets of a western town, watched by wary residents . 047. the back of a vast library, surrounded by books, when a black book falls from the highest shelf . 048. a room of an asylum, an abandoned camcorder left in the middle of the room . 049. the shores of an unknown beach, washed up from the ocean . 050. the deck of an unsteady ship, waves crashing against the haul and rain lashing down from dark clouds .

[hexpositive]

Hex Positive, Ep. 039 – “We Are The Queerdos, Mister” with Murphy Lawless

There’s a chill in the breeze, the leaves are turning, the pumpkins are grinning, it’s time for SPOOKY SEASON! Accordingly, I’ve brewed up a special surprise for all my witches and horror fans out there. This month’s episode is a crossover with Queerdo Babes From The Horror Pod-O-Rama, hosted by the absolutely fabulous Murphy Lawless.

We sat down for a nice long chat about depictions of witches and witchcraft in horror cinema. And since there are far too many examples for just one episode, we narrowed it down to a few choice flicks – Häxan (1922), Eyes of Fire (1983), The Craft (1996), Practical Magic (1998), and The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016). (Spoilers abound!)

[As of original airdate Oct 1 2023, The Craft and Practical Magic are available on streaming services, including Prime and Hulu, and Eyes of Fire and The Autopsy of Jane Doe are available on SHUDDER, and Häxan is available on YouTube.]

Make sure you check out Queerdo Babes From The Horror Pod-O-Rama for an ALTERNATE version of this episode and follow the show on Instagram and your favorite podcatcher!

CritWitchCon 2023 replay tickets available now! 

Check my WordPress for full show notes, as well as show notes for past episodes and information on upcoming events.

You can find me as @BreeNicGarran on TikTok, Instagram, and WordPress, or as breelandwalker on tumblr. For more information on how to support the show and get access to early releases and extra content, visit my Patreon. 

Visit the Willow Wings Witch Shop to purchase my books and homemade accoutrements for your craft!

Proud member of the Nerd and Tie Podcast Network.

[cophene]

039 || ☆ ⁺ « NO REASON TO HESITATE.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them  a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and pretty-faced crew notes : sci-fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 3.6k+

★˚⋆ FUGO SEIZED THE CAPTAIN ROUGHLY by the collar and hauled them up, surprising himself with his own strength. Or rather, Fugo hauled up whoever was in the Captain's body. It remained to be seen whether it was actually the Captain or not.

The Captain groaned, their head lolling. Fugo shook them roughly, and only then did they lift their head. There was a trail of dried blood over one of their temples.

"Fugo?"

"Are you the Captain or not?" Fugo demanded. "Tell the truth. No more flacking lies."

"Of course I am—"

"Tell the truth," Fugo repeated harshly. He stared hard into the Captain's eyes. "Are you the Captain or not? We don't have time to flack around anymore."

It was only because Fugo was looking at the Captain so intently that he saw something melt from their eyes. Confusion slipping into resignation.

"How did you know?" Bruno asked.

Fugo let go of Bruno, his shoulders dropping. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one. It didn't make sense that an ability like Chariot Requiem's would leave two people unaffected. Especially because there were two of you. If it switched Polnareff and Coco Jumbo, there was no reason why you and the Captain wouldn't have been switched too. So that either meant there had been a fluke, or the two of you were lying."

Bruno drew a hand over his face, wincing. "We didn't mean—"

"You were trying to protect us, I know. Except your plan has unwittingly backfired because Zero has the Captain on his ship, thinking they're you. And you're here when we really need the Captain."

"But—"

"I'll explain to you again, because it wasn't really you I was talking to before. The Captain and the rest of the crew are under the influence of Zero's Stand. It manipulates their willpower, makes them more susceptible to whatever Zero wants them to do. The Captain is the one under the strongest influence. They've been fighting it, but something happened. Them going after the Stand Arrow like that was them giving in. Losing control. They are now completely under Zero's control, and won't hesitate to do anything he tells them.

"Right now, Zero thinks you're on his ship because of some vestiges of his power from when you were working for him, Bruno, but when he discovers it's really the Captain and his true hold over them..."

Bruno swore, closing his eyes. Fugo felt much the same. No one knew where Zero was willing to draw the line. He still didn't have the Stand Arrow, not with Chariot Requiem guarding it. There was no guarantee he wouldn't send the Captain out as his bloodhound to track down the crew and force them to get the Arrow for him.

It was a shitshow. The Captain would betray the crew with everyone thinking it was Bruno, while Bruno would be trying to hold things together as the "Captain".

"I've messed everything up, haven't I?" Bruno muttered.

"Things were messed up long before you got back. But you've exacerbated the situation, yes." Fugo found he was too tired to be truly angry at Bruno. He'd already spent most of his temper at the Captain, and Bruno's part in this predicament was small. He had been trying to help. He was always trying to help.

"Come on, we need to wake everyone else up," Fugo said, starting for the engine room. "The Captain has left us with a ship full of comatose crewmembers."

As they went about rousing everyone, Fugo wondered to himself why he was always stuck in this position. He was always dealing with the fallout, the aftermath. He was the one who had to fix everyone's mistakes, to set them back on course, to make everything right. It was exhausting. He shouldn't have been the only one capable of dealing with everyone's bullshit.

To be honest, whatever had led to Bruno's retreat from the crew, Fugo wouldn't have blamed him. Fugo had contemplated doing the same many, many times.

The crew didn't seem to realize just how much they put on his shoulders.

Once everyone had been rounded up on the bridge, Fugo took a minute to just study them all.

Their ragtag crew was even more ragtag than usual. Down a captain and a pilot. Technically, Abbacchio and Giorno weren't even a part of the crew, and Bruno had been gone for a long time. Not to mention Polnareff was stuck in Coco Jumbo's body and nibbling on a piece of carrot. Sheila was still unconscious, now restrained in one of the seats near the back with a gag in her mouth. She would give them hell once she woke up, but they could deal with that when it happened.

They were like a shoddily mended quilt, fraying at the edges.

As it turned out, other people's bodies were like ill-fitting clothes. Awkward and stiff and strange in all the wrong places. On top of looking exhausted and haggard, Passione looked intensely uncomfortable. Paranoid and too scared to make too much contact with anything.

"So does anyone want to explain why Bruno went absolutely berserk and shot me in the face?" Mista said.

"He shot you too?" Trish asked in a small voice.

"It was a Stand ability," Giorno said, because he seemed to have an answer for everything. "Maybe even a byproduct of Chariot Requiem."

"It doesn't seem likely," Polnareff responded. "Chariot Requiem isn't capable of targeting one person, especially not to possess them to charge after the Arrow."

The entire time, Fugo avoided looking at Abbacchio. It was uncanny to watch himself from a distance and he found he couldn't stand it.

"Where is Chariot Requiem?" Abbacchio asked.

"And where's Bruno?" Trish said.

Everyone looked at Fugo. Of course they did. Who else were they going to look at, Polnareff?

To his surprise, Bruno beat him to the punch.

"We're all under the influence of Zero's Stand," he said matter-of-factly. "That's why we even agreed to get the Arrow in the first place. Zero has been subtly controlling us, making sure we did what he wanted. And now Bruno has given in to his Stand completely, having no will of his own. He led Chariot Requiem onto Zero's ship in an attempt to get the Arrow to him. He's probably still on Zero's ship now."

Mista and Trish immediately began to protest. Which was to be expected, considering they were the only two people here still under Zero's control.

Not for the first time, Fugo struggled to recall the exact moment he had broken through the film of Zero's influence. He had been at the initial meeting with Zero, which meant he must have been affected. If the ability affected people in degrees, the effect on him must have been the weakest. If he had to make a guess, the talk with Rikiel must have snapped something.

Rikiel. Fugo didn't know if his plan with the Prince was still in motion. Neither of them had accounted for Donatello, which was a mistake. He could only hope Rikiel was doing what he could to keep Narancia out of Donatello's way.

"It makes sense," Polnareff was saying. "There's no other reason for why Bruno would have acted the way he did. In all the time I've known him, he has never changed his mind so drastically."

"But Zero would never do something like that!" Mista cried. "You can't just control people. We still have our own willpower, don't we? It's not like he's doing something right now?"

Abbacchio narrowed his eyes. "You're proving the point by defending him, you know."

Mista's head whipped toward him, his lips bared in a snarl. But a split second later, he seemed to remember himself and his eyes widened.

"Holy flack. You're right."

"What can we do to save Bruno?" Trish said, biting on her thumb. "We don't know what Zero will do to him. Or what Zero will make him do. What if ... what if Chariot Requiem switched his soul and Zero's?"

Abbacchio raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you wanted? For Zero's soul to switch with someone so you could have a scapegoat?"

"We wanted Sheila as the scapegoat. Not Bruno," Trish said.

"It's not Zero we have to deal with," Fugo said, even as Trish's words sank like a stone in his gut. "It's Chariot Requiem. We need to figure out a way to defeat it before doing anything to Zero. It's too risky to do anything while it's still walking around."

Giorno raised a hand. "Before we do anything, there's something I need to tell you all."

Fugo's eye twitched in annoyance. He preferred it when the Prince had been pretending to be a scared, timid space rat. He wasn't as bad as Donatello, but he still had that Upper Space gravitas that he couldn't fully shake off.

Even now, with Giorno no longer pretending to be JoJo or Narancia, he had no Upper Space accent. It was a strange thing to notice, but Fugo did.

"Narancia is going to be killed tomorrow."

If nothing else, Fugo could admire Giorno for his impeccable composure.

Trish blinked at him. Mista made a face. Abbacchio stared and Polnareff paused mid-chew. Bruno's face flitted through a few emotions before settling on wariness.

"I'm sorry, what?" Mista said.

Giorno's jaw tightened. "He informed me a few hours ago. I did what I could to guide him, but it was unfair of me to expect him to keep up with the demands of Imperial court. Narancia was unable to withstand the rigorous interrogation, even with my direction. Donatello sees him for what he is—an impostor. He thinks Narancia is a political impersonator, put in place to threaten Imperial security. Narancia is going to be executed for his crimes in twenty-four hours."

If there was ever a time to throw himself out the airlock, this was it, Fugo thought.

"Why are you only telling us this now?" Trish asked, her voice tightening into a shriek. "What are we going to do about that?"

"I'm not telling you this to worry you. I only wanted you to know."

"What do you mean, not worry?" Mista snapped. "The flack else are we going to do? Bruno's stuck on Zero's ship. We're being controlled by Zero's Stand. We have to kill Chariot Requiem and now Narancia's going to get killed!"

There was a flash of annoyance in Giorno's eyes. "As I said, I did not intend for you to worry. I detest repeating myself. I told you that because I have a plan.

"Sheila's ship is docked outside. I'll take it and board Zero's ship. If I can find Chariot Requiem's weakness, I will return with both Bruno and the Stand Arrow. Zero will be dealt with."

"You say all of that as though you'll be able to do it," Abbacchio said.

"I will be able to," Giorno said.

"Right, you against a guy who can manipulate your willpower and a Stand that redirects all of your attacks and swaps your soul," Mista deadpanned.

"I don't mean to be arrogant, but I have a higher chance of success than any of you. You don't know the true capabilities of Gold Experience, and I have had extensive training to deal with situations like this."

I am an Imperial Prince and I am insulted you don't think I can do this, was what Fugo heard.

"Your Highness, are you sure you're going to be capable of identifying Chariot Requiem's weakness?" Polnareff asked carefully. "You'll be under intense pressure."

Giorno smiled, and for a second, Fugo almost saw the cunning Crown Prince.

"I'm always under intense pressure."

Fugo snorted and Giorno glanced at him sidelong.

"I understand what you're saying, however, Polnareff," Giorno said. "It's just that the less people on board Zero's ship, the better. With your permission, I'd like to take you with me."

No sooner had Polnareff acquiesced that Giorno scooped him up and went to the maintenance door.

"Wait, you're actually going to go?" Mista said, shooting to his feet. "You're going to get killed! Er, Your Highness."

Giorno ignored him. Everyone on the bridge looked at each other, then followed after him. They made it all the way to the maintenance door, Giorno picking up Sheila's discarded helmet to twist over his head.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," Giorno said, as though this were a pleasant errand. "Prepare medical supplies and healing pods. I'll require direct transport to the Palaceship afterwards."

Trish shook her head. "We're coming with you."

"That would make things significantly more difficult."

"Don't care," Mista said. "Bruno's one of the crew and so we're going to rescue him. We gotta stick together, right, Captain?"

Fugo and Bruno exchanged a glance. While it would be easier to just let Prince Giorno fly to Zero's ship himself, Mista was right. Even if no one else was aware it was really the Captain in Bruno's body, their sense of loyalty was inextricable.

Besides, what else was there to do on the ship besides sit on their asses? They would be of no help to Narancia until everyone was back in their respective bodies. Giorno would never be able to convince anyone of his identity otherwise.

"It's going to be a tight squeeze," Bruno said.

It was more than a tight squeeze. It was nearly as bad as when everyone had squeezed into the escape pod back at the Penitentiary. Except Fugo didn't even have the luxury of being his own body, which made the experience infinitely more awkward.

Somehow, in the tangle of bodies, Giorno was having no problem navigating Sheila's small cruiser. Maybe he really had been trained for situations like this one. In fact, he had no problem doling out instructions as though he were on the bridge of a ship ten times larger. And he was also working on the ship's console to cloak the cruiser at the same time.

It was beyond strange to see Narancia acting even half-competent.

"Once we get onto Zero's ship, everyone will split up. Don't approach Zero, and don't approach Bruno. There's nothing we can do about either of them, so I suggest you don't try. Focus on finding Chariot Requiem as soon as possible. If you do, notify myself and Polnareff. Does everyone have a holopad?"

A scattering of yes's.

"Make sure to cloak its signal. Do not draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. Remember that Chariot Requiem is our primary objective."

Fugo couldn't help glowering at the back of Giorno's head. He enjoyed commanding people around entirely too much. It made him wonder how Giorno had managed to keep his mouth shut all that time pretending to be JoJo.

"I don't know if anyone has said this yet, but why don't you just command Zero to stop whatever he's doing?" Mista asked Giorno.

"Unfortunately it's not that easy. Zero is indirectly a very large proponent of the Imperial family. He has a hand in many of our funds and to expose him would inevitably lead to exposing the Imperial families' dealings with him. Not only that, Zero also supports many prominent Upper Space families. We would look like hypocrites. It's much easier to pin him for a crime."

"Have you considered the possibility that you might die on Zero's ship?" The question coming from Abbacchio held no malice. His voice was even, genuinely curious.

"I could have died any number of times before this," Giorno said. He tapped the console one last time. "I'm choosing to believe that if I'm still alive, the stars are giving me a chance, at least."

The stars. Fugo wanted to know what they could have to do with anything, letting the galaxy go to shit the way they did. He had never prayed to them before and he wasn't about to start now.

They docked against Zero's ship easily, seeing as Sheila's ship already had cleared access. They were practically spilling out of the ship already, but Giorno stopped everyone before they began boarding.

"I want you all to know that whatever happens, my goal is ultimately the Stand Arrow," he said, his gaze hooded. "Whatever happens to Bruno or all of you is ... secondary."

Fugo had to physically bite down on his anger.

"You might be a Prince but we don't have any particular loyalty to you," he said in a low, seething voice. "Whatever happens to you will also be secondary."

And even though it was too crowded to see everyone directly, Giorno still found a way to meet Fugo's gaze. What Fugo saw instead of the anger he had been expecting made a chill run down his spine.

Giorno smiled. A knowing, knife-sharp grin that didn't belong on Narancia's face.

"Good. I'm glad we're in agreement."

The Captain enjoyed the toffees that littered Zero's ship. They were light and fluffy, with just the perfect amount of sweetness. Their vision went blurry around the edges after a few of them, and it became so much easier to ignore the stabbing pain and blood pooling on the ground.

Zero had not moved from his seat since the Captain had stumbled onto their ship. They had barely missed a direct hit from Chariot Requiem, one that doubtless would have punched a hole clean through their middle. They threw down the Arrow in front of them and fell to their knees, coughing and gasping up bloody bile.

Chariot Requiem went smoothly to reclaim the Arrow, oblivious to its new surroundings. Zero had stood by impassively, the edges of dark robes fluttering as Chariot Requiem passed by him. He had not run after the Arrow. He had not helped the Captain to their feet. It seemed that being in such close proximity to the Arrow had frozen something in him, rendering him cold and unexpressive.

The Captain lifted their head, and Zero grimaced slightly. They didn't seem to be aware of the way their eye was melting into their cheek or the way their jaw was starting to stretch grotesquely.

"Clean yourself up," he commanded, and turned away.

Later, the Captain found Zero on the bridge. He did not look up as they entered, his gaze pinned to the surveillance footage in front of him, following Chariot Requiem's movements intently as it moved from screen to screen. The gold Arrow glinted against the chrome and metal, conspicuous everywhere it was. Despite that, Zero made no move to retrieve it.

The Captain was exhausted and in intense pain. But that did not bother them nearly as much as Zero's cold reception. They wished he would turn around. Look at them. Speak to them. Acknowledge them in some way.

"Have a taffy," he said after a while. "It will make things easier."

Thrilled, the Captain immediately took one from a nearby tray. Not long after, they slid down the wall and sat on the floor, gazing lazily at Zero as he continued to scrutinize Chariot Requiem.

Zero was neither tall nor broad nor particularly imposing. His shoulders hunched and his wrists, when they peaked out from under his robes, were thin and pale. His voice was thinner than it was over the holocalls.

But nonetheless, the Captain drank him in hungrily. Memorized his movements and his presence.

They had never been able to tell, but Zero had dark, curling hair. The Captain wished they could remove his mask so they could see what colour his eyes were. They were a little drunk, of course, of taffy, but also on the thrill of being so close to Zero.

The Captain did not know how long they sat against the wall, staring at Zero. They would have sat there forever if it was what Zero wanted. They only thought fleetingly about the Stand Arrow and whether or not Zero might want them to pursue it in some way.

Finally, Zero addressed the Captain. An electric zing went down their spine at the sound of his voice.

"Bruno, do you know why I desire the Stand Arrow?"

"No, sir." The Captain scrambled to their feet, even as blood rushed to their head.

Zero turned, the light from the screen outlining the edge of his mask. "What do you know about Requiem?"

"Requiem, sir?"

"Indeed. The ability to evolve one's Stand after it has been pierced by the Stand Arrow. It is granted immense power and imparted a consciousness of its own. The potential of such a Stand would be limitless."

Zero strode over to Bruno. Stopped a few feet away from him.

"Of course, that is the preferred outcome. I could just as well end up with a Stand like Chariot Requiem. And that would be ... disappointing."

Zero's gaze was intense, even through the mask. The Captain found they couldn't speak.

"It seems to me that the solution here is simple. We simply don't know enough about what will happen. There's not enough information. So we will have to gather more."

Zero leaned closer to the Captain. "I want you to pierce your Stand with the Arrow."

"S-sir?"

"It's the only way to figure out the Arrow's abilities for certain. My Stand's abilities are too volatile to test. But yours are simpler. If Requiem works for your Stand, it will work for mine. Do you understand?"

The Captain blinked. Something tugged on their chest, hard and insistent. "You want me to pierce my Stand with the Stand Arrow, sir?"

Zero tilted his head. Waited.

There was no reason to hesitate. It was a direct command from Zero. All there was was to do it.

I will pierce my Stand with the Stand Arrow.

I will pierce my Stand with the Stand Arrow because that is what Zero wants.

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[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers: Chapter Eight

Summary: Sam, Dean and Julia take on Louisiana to investigate a case, when they reunite with one of Julia's old friends. The four get to dress up in some snazzy clothes for a gala they fandangled their way into.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC: Julia Blackburn ]

Warnings: Mostly flirting and a decent amount of disappointment

Word Count: 5, 039 words

Author's Note: I dont know what New Orleans is like but this is just on vibes. Also hope everyone enjoys it. Kinda made myself sad if thats even possible.

Chapter Six; Chapter Seven

As the trio ventured into New Orleans, they found themselves enveloped by the city's vibrant tapestry. The streets buzzed with energy, a mix of historic charm and lively contemporary culture. Colorful buildings with wrought-iron balconies lined the streets, and the air carried the tantalizing scents of Creole cuisine, intermingled with the distant melody of jazz and the buzz of lively conversations. Sam directed Dean through the bustling streets towards the French Quarter, the heart of the city's ancient allure, where Julia was scheduled to meet Chelsea.

Pulling up in front of a quaint restaurant nestled among the vibrant tableau of the Quarter, Julia leaned forward to address both Sam and Dean. "I'll catch up with you guys at the Four Seasons Hotel this afternoon. Have fun doing your detective thing," she quipped, her voice light but laced with a hint of anticipation for the day ahead. Without thinking, she pressed a quick kiss to Dean's cheek, a spontaneous gesture of affection.

Realizing the intimacy of her action, Julia swiftly turned to Sam, mirroring the gesture with a kiss on his cheek as well, her face flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment at her own boldness. Sliding out of the car, she paused before closing the door, a playful seriousness taking over her tone. "Oh, and don't forget—we need you two looking sharp tonight, so make sure you've got your suits ready," she reminded them, then quickly turned and disappeared into the restaurant to meet Chelsea.

Dean, momentarily stunned by Julia's kiss, watched her leave with a mix of amusement and a hint of something deeper. As the door closed behind her, he turned to Sam, a smirk slowly forming on his lips, his earlier surprise morphing into his usual confident demeanor. "Well, looks like we've got orders to dress to impress tonight," he said, the smirk evident in his voice as well. "Better make sure those suits of ours are up to the gala standard, huh, Sammy?" His tone was teasing, yet there was a clear undercurrent of excitement about the evening's potential. The day in New Orleans was shaping up to be anything but ordinary, and Dean was ready to embrace whatever the city had in store for them.

Sam and Dean made their way into the heart of the vibrant city, their mission leading them to the local sheriff's office. Inside, they were greeted by the sheriff, a man whose weary eyes spoke volumes of the mysteries and burdens that came with his badge. He briefed them on the recent string of disappearances, noting the victims were all from wealthy, high society backgrounds, yet the details of their vanishings remained elusive, shrouded in uncertainty.

"Do any of these disappearances have a connection to the Cartwrights?" Sam inquired, his tone serious and probing. He leaned forward slightly, indicating his keen interest in finding a link that could unravel the mystery they were diving into.

The sheriff sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice as he responded, "Most likely. The Cartwrights are an old, wealthy local family. Been around for centuries." It was clear from his tone that the influence of the Cartwright family was both well-known and pervasive, a constant undercurrent in the town's social fabric.

Dean, picking up on the lead, pressed further. "Any idea where we can dig up more on the Cartwright family history?" he asked, his question sharp and direct, aiming to uncover any information that could lead them closer to understanding the family's potential involvement.

"The local library has a section on the old families around here, including the Cartwrights. That's probably your best bet," the sheriff explained, his tone indicating resignation to the fact that the Cartwrights, like many of the town's elite, remained an enigma to those outside their circles. "They don't really mingle outside their high society groups," he added, underscoring the challenge Sam and Dean faced in penetrating the closed world of New Orleans' upper echelon.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, a silent communication that spoke of their next move. They offered their thanks to the sheriff, their minds already racing with the possibilities that awaited them at the library. As they stepped out of the sheriff's office and back into the bustling streets of New Orleans, the weight of their task loomed ahead. Yet, the prospect of uncovering secrets hidden within the pages of history invigorated them, propelling them forward in their quest to unravel the mystery surrounding the Cartwright family and the shadowy disappearances.

* * *

The Impala glided to a halt in front of a charming, somewhat antiquated library. Its facade, adorned with the gentle wear of time, whispered tales of the countless souls who had passed through its doors in search of knowledge. Sam and Dean exited the car with a purpose, their strides full of the confidence that came from years of navigating the unknown.

Approaching the library, they pushed through the heavy doors and were greeted by the quiet, sacred hush that envelops all such repositories of wisdom. Their boots echoed softly on the polished wood floor as they made their way towards the front desk, where an elderly librarian sat, her presence as much a part of the library as the books themselves.

Dean took the lead, leaning slightly on the desk with a disarming smile. "Excuse me, ma'am, but could you point us towards the section on the history of the local area's old families?" he inquired, his voice carrying a blend of respect and charm, the latter honed to perfection over years of dealing with all manner of people.

The librarian peered up at them through her glasses, a flash of curiosity crossing her features before she rose from her seat. Without a word, she led them into the heart of the library, navigating the labyrinth of bookshelves with a quiet assurance. Eventually, she halted before a specific shelf, her hand waving gently towards the collection before she retreated, leaving Sam and Dean to their investigation.

The brothers scanned the titles, their focus narrowing as they sought anything related to the Cartwrights. When they finally located the book they needed, they exchanged a glance of silent understanding and moved to claim a table in a secluded corner.

As they settled down, the pages of the book open before them, the library around them seemed to close in, the outside world fading away. They were now fully immersed in the task at hand, piecing together the puzzle of the Cartwright family's history and its potential connection to the mysterious disappearances. The quiet rustle of pages turning was the only sound that accompanied their research, a testament to their unwavering determination to uncover the truth hidden within the library's serene confines.

In the hushed confines of the library, Sam and Dean pored over the ancient tome they'd found, its pages heavy with the weight of history and secrets untold. As they delved deeper into the legacy of the Cartwright family, a series of aged, grainy photographs caught their attention. Each photo depicted individuals who bore a striking resemblance to each other, yet the captions indicated they were generations apart.

"Dean, look at this," Sam said, his finger tracing the lineage of faces that seemed to defy the passage of time. "These photos... these people look identical, but they're supposedly from different centuries."

Dean leaned in, his eyes scanning the images skeptically before realization dawned on him. "That's not normal. You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, the gears turning in his head.

Sam nodded, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. "Vampires. It's the only explanation that makes sense. The Cartwrights could be an old vampire family, hiding in plain sight, using their wealth and status to cover their tracks."

The idea seemed far-fetched, yet the evidence before them was compelling. Dean flipped through more pages, finding references to lavish parties thrown by the Cartwrights that coincided with mysterious disappearances in the area.

"Look at this," Dean pointed out, his finger landing on a passage describing a grand ball from the late 1800s, after which several prominent guests were never seen again. "History's repeating itself. The Cartwright galas... it's like they're hunting grounds."

Sam's expression grew grim. "And with another gala happening soon, they could be planning to feed again. We need to stop them before it's too late."

The brothers shared a look of determination, the kind forged in countless battles against the dark. In the silence of the library, surrounded by the musty scent of old books, they found a new resolve. The Cartwright mystery was unraveling, revealing a sinister truth that had been hidden for centuries. Now, armed with knowledge and a sense of urgency, Sam and Dean were ready to confront the ancient evil lurking within the Cartwright lineage. The hunt was on.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, the Winchester brothers found themselves once again navigating the vibrant streets of New Orleans. Their mission had taken them to a tailor shop, where they'd picked up gala-ready suits, a necessary armor for the night's impending confrontation. Now, they were on their way to the Four Seasons Hotel, a luxurious accommodation arranged by Julia's friend Chelsea, signaling the next phase of their plan.

Pulling up in front of the hotel, Dean faced a moment of reluctance as a valet approached, his instinctive protectiveness over the Impala kicking in. It took some persuasive coaxing from Sam, but eventually, Dean surrendered his beloved car keys, albeit with a wary glance back at his cherished vehicle.

Duffel bags and suit bags in tow, they strode into the hotel's lavish lobby, exuding the quiet confidence of men on a mission. Dean led the way to the front desk, his demeanor shifting to one of effortless charm as he addressed the receptionist. "We have a reservation under Ms. Blackburn," he said, flashing a smile that had disarmed more than its fair share of adversaries.

The receptionist, momentarily caught off guard by Dean's charm, quickly regained her composure, cheeks tinged with a blush as she handed over the room keys. "Your rooms are ready. Enjoy your stay," she managed, her professionalism intact despite the fluttering in her chest.

As they made their way to the elevators, Dean's phone buzzed with a new message from Julia, instructing them to get ready in Sam's room. She explained that she had the room key for the room she was sharing with Dean but was currently with Chelsea getting ready. Understanding the logistics of their preparation, Dean pocketed his phone, a sense of anticipation building.

"Looks like we're bunking with you for the prep, Sammy," Dean remarked, a grin spreading across his face at the thought of their makeshift dressing room scenario. "Let's hope your room's got enough mirrors for all of us."

The brothers continued towards the elevators, their steps synchronized, a silent testament to the countless times they'd faced challenges together. Today, the challenge was not monsters or demons, but the social battlefield of a gala filled with the city's elite—and possibly, a coven of ancient vampires. Yet, the Winchester resolve remained unshaken, their readiness undimmed by the setting sun over New Orleans.

* * *

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Sam and Dean stood poised in the opulent lobby of the Four Seasons, their black tuxedos and bow ties epitomizing classic elegance. The anticipation was palpable between them, a silent acknowledgment of the night's significance.

The moment the golden elevator doors glided open, their attention was captured by the emergence of a statuesque blonde. Her hair, styled in an immaculate French twist, added to her high fashion allure. Unlike Julia's gentle curves and softness, this woman was all sharp angles and striking presence. Her gown, a masterpiece in dusty pink, whispered against the marble floor as she approached.

Her smile was both confident and enigmatic as she extended a hand adorned with pink manicured nails towards Dean, mistakenly addressing him, "You must be Sam, I'd recognize tall, dark, and handsome anywhere. I'm Chelsea," her voice rich with the melodious lilt of a Louisiana accent.

Dean's response came with a cheeky grin, an easy charm that had disarmed many. "Actually, I'm Dean. And this," he said, stepping slightly to the side to introduce his brother with a flourish, "is Sam, your tall, dark, and handsome date."

Chelsea's momentary surprise was quickly masked by a practiced smile of excitement, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes as she corrected her assumption. The brief falter in her confidence was a rare sight, quickly smoothed over by her poise.

The exchange, brief as it was, set the tone for the evening, hinting at the layers of intrigue and performance that awaited them at the gala. As they prepared to step into a night of high society and hidden dangers, the Winchesters and their companions were fully aware of the roles they had to play, their outward appearances just the first layer of their elaborate masquerade.

The lobby of the Four Seasons held a wealth of opulence, but all of it paled in comparison when the elevator announced its arrival with a soft ding. Dean turned, his gaze immediately captured by the vision that emerged. It was Julia, her auburn curls masterfully gathered into a low bun, with delicate tendrils caressing the contours of her face, adding a softness that contrasted with the grandeur of her attire.

She stood there for a moment, framed by the golden elevator doors, and then stepped forward. Dean's breath caught as she moved gracefully across the floor, her gown a statement of elegance and boldness. The dress was a striking emerald green, its fabric flowing like the cascading waves of a verdant sea. The bodice clung to her in all the right places, its strapless design accentuating the graceful line of her shoulders and the gentle curve of her neck. The skirt was a masterpiece, cinched at the waist and flaring into a full silhouette, with a daring slit revealing a glimpse of her leg with each step she took. The dress's structure was both timeless and daring, much like the woman who wore it.

Her eyes, a mesmerizing green to match her dress, were fixed on Dean's, and in that instant, the bustling lobby seemed to dissolve into nothingness. Time stretched, elongated by the intensity of their connection. She glided toward him, her presence commanding the room without a word, each step a note in the symphony of the moment.

Dean, usually so guarded and poised, found himself at a loss, his usual quips and banter silenced by the vision before him. He could only watch, utterly captivated, as Julia approached, the world around them fading into a blur—all noise, all movement, all thoughts secondary to the woman who held his undivided attention.

Julia halted her approach mere inches from Dean, her fingers deftly pushing up her glasses with a delicate touch to her cheek. “I would've gone for contacts, but I’m pretty much blind without these,” she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability as a blush crept into her cheeks under Dean’s intense gaze.

Dean, who had been momentarily breathless at her entrance, let out a silent exhale. His hand found its way to the small of her back, a gesture both protective and tender. “Sweetheart, you could wear ski goggles, and you'd still look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere, eyes never leaving her face.

Julia's blush deepened, her delicate hands rising to straighten Dean’s bow tie, her touch light but full of affection. “And you’re not looking too shabby yourself,” she replied, her eyes lifting to meet his, a soft smile dancing on her lips.

Their intimate bubble was gently burst by Sam’s voice, clearing his throat to signal his presence. “Alright, it’s time to head out. Wouldn’t want to miss the grand entrance,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed the pair.

Chelsea, who had been quietly observing the exchange, felt a fleeting shadow of envy pass over her before she brightened up with a practiced socialite’s smile. “And to make our night even more special, I've arranged a limo for us," she chimed in, her cheeriness as polished as the evening ahead.

With a roguish tilt to his smile, Dean offered his arm to Julia, bending it with a flourish of old-world gallantry. "Shall we? Your chariot awaits, m'lady," he quipped, the tease in his voice softened by the warmth in his eyes.

A giggle, light and genuine, bubbled from Julia as she looped her arm through his, her touch feather-light against the strength of his arm. Together, they made their way to the sleek black limo that stood poised to whisk them away into the night.

Reaching the limo, Dean's movements were smooth and practiced as he held the door open for her. He extended his hand to assist her, a silent testament to his ever-present protective nature. Julia gathered the rich emerald folds of her gown with grace and ease, her fingers brushing against Dean's as she settled into the plush limo seat.

After ensuring Julia was comfortably seated, Dean slid into the space beside her, the soft leather welcoming them both. Across from them, Sam opened the door for Chelsea, who, with a nod of polite indifference, opted to glide into the limo unassisted, the light from the setting sun catching the highlights in her blonde hair.

* * *

The limousine whisked them away from the city’s heart, toward a realm that seemed untouched by time. The road unraveled like a ribbon through an ethereal tunnel formed by ancient trees. Their heavy boughs, veiled in the soft glow of fairy lights, arched above, creating a celestial canopy that twinkled like a sky of stars just within reach. The fairy lights cast a gentle luminescence that danced across the vehicle’s sleek surface, imbuing the journey with a sense of enchantment.

As the limo proceeded down the enchanting path, the awe-inspiring sight that awaited them at the end of this verdant aisle took their breath away. The house, grand and imposing, stood as a sentinel at the road's end, its white facade a striking contrast against the deep greens and the twilight's gold. The elegance of the classical architecture, with its stately columns and expansive porches, was accentuated by the setting sun, which bathed the entire scene in a warm, golden light.

"The Cartwrights sure know how to pick a location," Dean remarked, his voice low, filled with a mix of admiration and the hunter's ever-present vigilance.

"It's like something out of a storybook," Julia whispered, her face alight with the beauty of it all, yet shadowed by the knowledge of what might lurk within.

Sam nodded, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a strategic mind. "Perfect for a gala... or hiding secrets," he mused, his thoughts already racing ahead to the night's mission.

As the limo glided to a stop, the quartet readied themselves, each aware that the night would be as much about wits and courage as it was about waltzes and wine. The house before them was more than just a venue; it was a chessboard, and they were about to make their opening move.

* * *

The limo's gentle purr subsided, giving way to the evening's quiet splendor as it halted at the gala's entrance. Dean was the first to emerge, stepping out with the ease of a man both sure of himself and alert to his surroundings. He then reached back into the limo, offering his hand to Julia. Her fingers slipped into his like the final piece of a puzzle, the luxurious fabric of her dress whispering secrets as she rose from the car, the color of deep forest leaves after rain.

Sam and Chelsea joined them, rounding the vehicle to unite as two pairs ready to face the night’s intrigue. Together, they made their way toward the imposing front doors of the mansion, their steps synchronized on the red carpet that welcomed them.

The gala greeter, poised in a tuxedo that mirrored the event's elegance, offered a smile that was both professional and warm as they drew near. Chelsea stepped forward, her confidence echoing the grandeur of their surroundings. "We're with Blackburn and Sterling," she announced with the clarity of someone accustomed to these events.

With an acknowledging nod, the greeter ushered them inside, extending the hospitality of the Cartwrights. "Welcome, please enjoy the evening," he said, his voice a smooth melody over the soft buzz of conversation that escaped from within.

As they crossed the threshold, the gala unfolded before them like a scene from a gilded age. Crystal chandeliers cast a constellation of light across the room, their brilliance reflected in the polished marble floors. Waiters in crisp uniforms glided through clusters of guests, offering flutes of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres on silver trays. The air was alive with a string quartet's lilting harmony, the music weaving through the laughter and chatter of the assembled elite.

Opulence dripped from every corner, from the ornate moldings on the walls to the lavish floral arrangements that adorned every table. The guests themselves were a swirl of silks, satins, and sparkling jewels, each moving in the intricate dance of socialite pageantry. As Dean, Julia, Sam, and Chelsea joined the flow, they were swept up in the spectacle, their senses attuned to both the beauty and the hidden dangers of the Cartwright gala.

As a waiter navigated the throng of guests, Julia deftly plucked two flutes of champagne from the passing tray and turned to Dean with a glint of mischief in her eyes. Dean accepted the glass, his eyebrows arching playfully as he caught the mirthful sparkle in her gaze.

"What's the game plan, huh? Trying to get me tipsy so you can take advantage of me?" he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting into his trademark smirk.

Julia's giggle was a light counterpoint to the rich timbre of the string quartet filling the room. "No, just embracing the role of a gala attendee," she quipped back, a mock-serious bob of her head punctuating the words 'gala attendee' as if they were a title she had studied for.

Dean, his glass poised halfway to his lips, took a deliberate step closer. His free hand found the small of her back, resting there with familiar ease. "Oh, is that so? And what exactly does the role of 'gala attendee' entail?" he inquired, his tone laced with flirtation and a hint of challenge, inviting her to continue their playful banter amidst the grandeur of the gala.

Julia's smile was an upward curve of shared secrets as she regarded Dean. "Well, they discreetly uncover where the Cartwrights whisk away their 'special guests'," she whispered, her hand lightly touching his chest as though to anchor herself in the whirlwind of their covert operation.

Dean was about to respond, the words forming with the ease of a man who lived on the edge of danger, "Sounds like a perfec–," when Chelsea's voice cut through, diverting their course.

"Come on, let's blend in. We can start with a dance, maybe? Anything's better than just loitering here," Chelsea proposed, her fingers lightly pressing against Dean's upper arm, urging him into the flow of the gala.

Dean glanced at Sam, who seemed content to observe from the sidelines, before turning back to Chelsea with a nod. "You heard the lady. Let's see if the Winchester charm works on the dance floor," he said, a playful note in his voice, ready to slip into the night's rhythm, where every step was a measure of their investigation.

As the evening wove its way through laughter and clinking glasses, Sam leaned in toward Dean and Julia, seizing a moment when Chelsea was drawn away by the swirl of the gala.

"I'm going to take a look around while everyone's distracted," Sam murmured, his voice a low frequency meant only for his brother and Julia. Without waiting for a response, he slipped away, merging with the sea of guests as he vanished into the mansion's grandiose interior.

Dean and Julia continued to converse, their dialogue an effortless tennis match of wit and insight, until the distinct vibration of a phone interrupted their rally. Julia's expression shifted as she reached into the hidden pocket of her dress, a testament to its practicality. She pulled out her phone, and her forehead creased with concern.

"Uh–" She locked eyes with Dean, a silent apology in the look. "I need to take this," she said, her voice threaded with urgency. With a fluid grace, Julia threaded her way through the crowd, leaving Dean to watch her go, a slight crease of concern mirroring hers as she sought a sliver of solitude for her call.

Dean's gaze followed the trail of Julia's auburn hair as she weaved through the gala's crowd, disappearing from sight. He took the opportunity to survey the room, a hunter's instinct to always be aware of his surroundings. Suddenly, he felt the familiar pressure of a hand on his arm. Turning, he found Chelsea standing closer than before, her presence insistent.

"Where did Julia and Sam wander off to?" Chelsea inquired, her voice carrying a note of curiosity, almost too close for casual conversation.

Dean kept his cool, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Sam's off doing his mingling magic, and Julia had to take a call," he explained, his attention briefly following the trail of Chelsea's hand as it drifted from his arm to rest against his chest.

"So, that leaves just us... alone together," Chelsea intimated, her voice lowering, eyes locked on his.

Dean glanced around at the sea of people, the hum of conversation surrounding them. "Not really alone, we've got about a hundred chaperones," he quipped, gesturing to the guests around them, trying to maintain a light-hearted atmosphere.

Chelsea hummed, a sound that seemed to hold more than mere agreement. She leaned into Dean, her body language shifting as she guided him with gentle pressure, away from the crowd and toward a secluded part of the wall, her hands exploring his chest with an unspoken intention.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Dean's face, his brows knitting together as he tried to navigate the situation with diplomacy. "Chelsea, I think we should–" But his attempt to diffuse the advance was interrupted when Chelsea, bold and unyielding, placed her hands on his face and drew him into a kiss.

Caught off guard, Dean's first instinct was to pull away, but he also knew the importance of keeping up appearances. He had to handle the situation without causing a scene that could jeopardize their mission, all while maintaining the respect and boundaries he held for Julia. It was a delicate dance, even for a seasoned hunter like Dean Winchester.

* * *

The brisk Louisiana winter air wrapped itself around Julia as she stepped outside, its chill a stark contrast to the warmth of the gala inside. As the call ended, leaving her with a tangle of emotions and unanswered questions, she let out a sigh that mingled with the night. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tucked her phone away, and she removed her glasses to press weary fingertips against her eyelids, willing strength into her resolve.

In that quiet moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of the call, to acknowledge the ripple of distress it had sent through her. But she knew she couldn't let it consume her—not tonight. With a fortifying breath that turned to vapor in the cool air, she replaced her glasses, her vision clearing along with her determination. She was ready to return to Dean, to let the night's earlier enchantment wash over her once more.

As Julia re-entered the opulent mansion, she wove through the throng of guests, their conversations a distant hum in her ears. Her gaze scanned the room, seeking the familiar form of Dean, craving the comfort his presence promised. But when her search finally ended, the sight that greeted her was a piercing jolt to her heart.

Dean was pinned against the wall, ensnared in an unexpected embrace with Chelsea, whose hands cradled his face, lips pressed to his in a kiss that stole Julia's breath. A sharp pain clawed at her chest, a mixture of shock and an inexplicable sense of betrayal. She had no claim over Dean, no vows had been exchanged, but the sting of seeing him with another was undeniable.

Turning away, Julia forced herself to refocus on the mission. There were clues to be found, secrets to unearth—this was no time for the distractions of the heart. With a swipe at the tears that dared to spill, she started her silent quest through the mansion, each step a message to herself that she was more than what she felt in this moment. She was a hunter, and tonight, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Dean's reaction was immediate, his voice a low, controlled growl that barely concealed his shock and discomfort. "Chelsea, what the hell?" he demanded, the firmness in his tone not quite masking the undercurrent of confusion. His eyes darted around, conscious of the eyes and ears that might be privy to this unintended scene.

Chelsea retreated a step, her expression faltering into one of wounded pride as she absorbed the rejection. Looking up at Dean, she saw the residual crimson mark her lipstick had left on him, a vivid contrast to the pale annoyance etched across his face.

As the realization dawned on her, her voice took on a bitter edge, tinged with jealousy. "It's Julia, isn't it? I mistook your charm for something... less serious. But you're actually in love with her," Chelsea accused, her disappointment morphing into a disdainful sneer.

Dean fixed his gaze on her, the lines of his face hardening. "This isn't the time or place. Let's just get back to the party," he said, his tone final, leaving no room for further discussion. He sidestepped her, putting physical distance between them as he reoriented himself toward the throng of guests, eager to put the discomfort of the moment behind him.

To Be Continued...

Tag List: @deanwinchestersgirl87

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Leaves' Eyes - Myths of Fate (AFM Records)

German symphonic metal stars, Leaves’ Eyes will release their new album Myths Of Fate on 22nd March via AFM Records. Myths Of Fate comes four years after their previous album, The Last Viking, and is their 9th studio album overall. This one also marks a special anniversary with it being 20 years of existence as a band. An impressive feat, indeed, and an impressive turn around in quantity and…

[brrrkdslek]

QUADRILATERAL LOVE!

✦ 039 ⎯ POOKIE IS THE 6TH MEMBER OF STARLETZ⁉️😨

you sighed, watching your mother's chest rise and fall as she slept. you put your notebook back into your bag, pen falling inside your pant pocket and decided to leave for the day, since it was getting late too.

as you were leaving, you bumped shoulders with somebody. quickly turning to apologise, your blood runs cold seeing eunji, standing right in front of you.

"what the hell do you think you're doing here-" "yn!" eunji exclaimed as she held your hands, you quickly swat her away. "gross, don't act like we're close now." she rolled her eyes, "yn, where is boomi?" you stuff your fists inside your pocket, resisting the urge to punch her square in the face.

"like i'd tell you." her brows furrowed, "yn, stop fighting me and just give in. he's important to the family-" "i won't let you decided what's important for him," you clicked the pen inside your pocket, "he will know when he grows up," spinning around, you slowly walk off as she stares at your back, glaring holes at you. "don't bother us or i'll report you."

taking your phone out, you quickly dial boomi's number before clicking on the call button. "noona?" you let a small smile grace your face, "hey bubs, i'm at the market, do you want anything?" you could almost hear him bouncing in excitement, "yes! can you make the kimchi stew you made us when we were younger? i haven't had it in a looooooong time!"

you chatted for a bit as you walked to the stalls, before cutting the line. you remember when you used to make the stew for him, when he was sick. it was his favourite and one of the few thing that was healthy for him to eat.

<PREV𖤐NEXT>

©BRRRKDSLEK 2023

[metalshockfinland]

LEAVES’ EYES Premiere Epic Video for New Single 'In Eternity'

[photo: Stefan Heilemann] March 22, 2024  will see symphonic metal vikings, LEAVES’ EYES, release their much-awaited, new studio album “Myths Of Fate” via AFM Records. The album pre-sale is available at https://leaveseyes.bfan.link/Myths-of-Fate. Today, the band is premiering an epic music video for their new single “In Eternity”! In support of their upcoming record release, LEAVES’ EYES are…

[monstroum]

039. a cramped dressing room. lestat @ santiago

the figure which looms on the mirror's reflection does not resemble the golden god santiago had been sharing his stage with for the last few days . there , by the entrance of the cramped dressing room , old and messy and bustling with old little props from past plays , lestat de lioncourt looks like little more than a shadow of his former self . there isn't much light for santiago to shine upon the other ㅤ─ ㅤ but , right there and then , lestat looks like a thing meant to live in darkness .

ㅤㅤㅤ" well , well ㅤ─ ㅤ look who decided to drop by . " the actor finally greets , still lining his eyes with black kohl . he does not turn around to face his visitor , preferring instead to watch his pathetic little reflection ( he much preferred him like that ) . " came for the third act , did you ? figures . all the applause , none of the hard work . " santiago can feel TWO BRIGHT DAGGERS SINKING INTO HIS BACK ; surely the frenchman wished him dead , he'd done enough to warrant such hatred but , alas ! he was under the coven's roof . and , as long as he was a guest there , LESTAT'S HANDS WOULD REMAIN TIED . how suffocating it must have felt for a creature of his nature , to have his movements limited by the length of armand's leash on him .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ( join the fucking club . )

suddenly the actor is done with his makeup and up on his feet . somewhere upstairs a wave of laughter fills the theatre . it was an intoxicating feeling to have that many people surrender themselves to you completely for a couple of hours ㅤ─ ㅤsantiago , however , ached for the devotion of only one ... but he wouldn't be in the crowd that evening . he'd be out there ON THE STREETS with MISTER OUTSIDE OF CHICAGO .

he tugs at the black cloak on his back as he approaches the other vampire . the room is cramped and small , leaving both men's chests inches away from each other as santiago makes his way to the exit . there's a smile to his stare . but it's far from friendly . " feel free to borrow whatever you'd like , monsieur de lioncourt . we wouldn't want you scaring the audience with how ghastly you look tonight . " a lie he did not need to tell ㅤ─ ㅤ despite all of his crimes against the theatre , lestat de lioncourt's appearance had never once been touched by ugliness . even now as santiago lingered close to him , he could not find a single trace to mock upon the other's visage .

[cauliflowertree]

lily evans—life in pink.

summary: playing lily a song on your ukulele.

word count: 0.4k

fanfic no. 039

mid-afternoon in lily’s dorm room, the sun poured in through her window, bathing her in a golden light that accentuated her natural beauty. the golden hues smiled upon her with fondness, perhaps even in admiration.

she was lounging comfortably, with her white cat resting over her crossed legs while she absentmindedly stroked its fur, the other hand occupied with the stem of a flower. she twisted it between her thumb and forefinger, watching the petals spin at her command.

“play something for me,” she requested softly, letting the flower droop onto her hair as she turned to you.

“what would you like me to play?” you asked, leaning over the arm of the chair to retrieve your ukulele.

“something sunny.”

taking a few moments to remember the chords, you perched yourself on the edge of the bed delicately, cautious not to disturb her slumbering kitten. lily watched you with an easy smile, closing her eyes gently as she traced the flower down her nose.

strumming gently on the nylon strings of your ukulele, you played one round of the chords before beginning to sing the gentle melody.

“hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you cast, this is la vie en rose.”

she giggled softly, recognising the song instantly. she had you in the palm of her hand, twisted around her little finger. you’d do anything for her if she only asked, but the type of woman she was would never take advantage of your love. instead, she kept it close to her own heart, letting it bloom together with her love for you, your roots intertwining, your petals growing of the same shade, embracing each other.

“and when you speak angels sing from above. everyday words seem to turn to love songs.”

you knew she could not resist humming along, and you hoped this would be one of the few times she joined you in song. she knew the words, she need only find her courage, for she could often be shy in things she wasn’t confident she excelled at.

but with you, she was secure. “give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose,” she sang with you, her cheeks glowing red as you finished the tune.

“beautiful,” she hummed, leaning over to peck your lips, leaving her cherry lipgloss behind to be tasted.

🏷 @sw34terw34ther @imabee-oralizard @mad-elia @unadulterated-syd @flesh--amnesiac @juneberrie @innerloverpainter @goodoldfashionedluvergirl