#gothic flower crown

[ed13d1]

you're a savior and so shall I heed

Andrew Wyeth • Maidenhair, 1974

[melancholyiris]

[thegothicalice]

Night garden gothic heroine 🌌🪻Dress vintage (with straps replaced by me from reused ribbon), flower crown by me, waist cincher by Wilde Rose Costumes, candelabra necklace by Burial Ground.

[yourehalfaworldaway]

[natalyarose]

𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓸𝓸𝓷 ♡ …

[hellcatazura]

It's been a wet one out there today! Nothing as calming as water 💙

Photo/dress: @the-gloomth

[sadsk8ergirl]

[thedreamofmainstream]

For this coord I’ve took inspiration from Strawberry Switchblade, Simone Rocha, Diva Destruction, h.Naoto and many others ahahaha

Top is handmade by me

Flower crown was a handmade present from a friend

[shroomertsoda]

A new headband that I was fighting with for a few hours to get those damn chains right.

[biletemptress]

[zamshelij-valun]

[fastwiemagie]

Come and join our dance

Walking dead or sleeping dead? I was dead on my feet after the concert / mini-festival for sure! (5 bands for 6 hours.) Zombieball means Dance of the Zombies and fittingly happened on halloween!

Originally I planned to sew myself a new dress to attend this concert but couldn't find the motivation to start on that and then found out I had too little of the fabric I planned to use anyway. I decided to wear my Queen of Bats dress, the first lolita dress I've sewed a couple of years ago. Still absolutely in love with that stunning fabric!!

I wanted to coord it with red, because blood. Very vampire-ey! And because I don't wear my red platform boots enough. They're pleather and will eventually fall apart sooo I need to wear them before that happens. The boots are sadly not as comfortable as I'd like but not painful (at first) either.

Anyway. Going with my bloody vampire theme I made a new flower crown for the event. I absolutely love flower crowns and they are definitely a signature look for me. I had these gorgeous fabric flowers already, that look a bit wilted and decaying yet still very beautiful and ethereal. Which goes perfectly with the vampire theme if you ask me. I sewed the red flowers down on black elastic (so it blends in a bit with my brown hair. Brown elastic would be even better but I don't have that.) and closed the elastic into a loop.

I figured a pretty vampire/bat was costume-y enough. Besides I've attended the concert mainly to watch the band Lolita Komplex (friends of mine) and they incorporate lolita fashion aswell into their stage outfits. I like to wear lolita to see them to signal that I'm here for them.

I got many compliments for my dress and outfit on that night, which always makes me really happy. Especially because usually I'm rocking something beautifully handmade! A drunk woman at the bar also complimented me - and I shouted back along the lines of thank you, that's so nice, I'm happy and I made it myself. She was super amazed!!

This group of people also asked me what I'm dressed as and I said Queen of Bats, and when I left the venue one of them was also leaving and shouted: goodbye queen!

[pss-shh]

Black crown with red roses | Please.shh

[saturninemysticthreads]

What do you think about this piece? Let us know!

[moonlight-prose]

SWEETNESS OF THE DAMNED

a/n: this was a quick drabble at first, but somehow turned into an allegory for persophone and hades. which isn’t surprising for me given that i’m already plotting october fics. logan isn’t a monster in this, nor is he a vampire even though the vibe and title may give that off. i just really love gothic vibes in everything i write so who better to give it to than old man logan.

summary: when night falls and wine overflows in glasses of crystal, logan finds his home in between your thighs.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, allegories for persephone and hades, biting, scratching even though he heals, cumplay, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, older logan is so filthy i’m blushing.

The acrid embers of the fire burned your nose the deeper your breaths became. Red wine remained chocolatey and bitter on your tongue; the dinner you tried to eat quickly was now forgotten in favor of something else. You thought you could smell the cigar he smoked on the porch an hour ago on his bare skin. You couldn't.

Not when his fingers dug into your hips, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He grunted with each slap of skin. The wet slick of how he pounded into you echoed loud and bright in the cabin.

You would have been embarrassed if it weren't for the sounds he let out. The way his eyes fell shut the closer you got to that fiery peak.

"C'mon baby," he sighed, ragged and needy. "I can feel ya."

Wine had gone to your head the second he poured you a third glass. Your red dress of crushed velvet lay in a heap on the floor. A pair of his jeans and a shirt beside it. The soft fabric of his flannel was smooth beneath your knees where he dropped it. Careful to keep your skin from going raw as he took you before dinner could even finish.

The alcohol is what brought this night to an early conclusion.

You already knew it would happen. Hoped for it on long days with hours that stretched for miles. Ached for his presence when you curled up in bed—the scent of his body still stuck on the cotton sheets. Logan promised to give you everything with a soft kiss at the door, his fingers gripping your chin to hold you there a minute longer. To slip his tongue past your maroon painted lips and lick along your teeth.

"'S too much," you garbled.

He laughed as you clenched around his leaking cock—tearing a deep moan from his chest. The heat of his body burned its way into yours where the fireplace couldn't reach. Each muscle and ridge along his stomach pressed into your back—his hips strong enough to break you slowed into punishing thrusts that bounced you on his thighs.

Time didn't exist; seasons began to blend into one.

The both of you resided where spring met summer and the shadow of night met fall's full moon. You wore a crown of wilted flowers—red spilling over your hands from where he asked you to bite into his skin. This was your damned hour. Your time of need.

You were the other half of an already broken soul, and he found that in your absence he couldn't hold it together for quite as long.

"You feel that?" His hand cupped your cunt—fingers spread around where he ended and you began. "She's leakin' for me baby."

"L-Logan," you gasped your throat thick with too many emotions.

The slow grind of his hips into yours sent your body hurtling towards yet another release. Your stomach was sticky where his other hand pressed - already coated in the three before. Holding onto the fraying pieces of your mind proved to be difficult when his teeth latched onto your shoulder. His fingers drew a shape around the edge of your throbbing clit.

His initials.

"You want another one don't ya honey?"

Yes. No. Please never fucking stop.

Instead all you could get out was a whine of his name. Your back arched into his hold, head pressed hard against his chest, as you fought to keep up with him. To grind against his lap and feel the drag of his cock along your walls.

"Yeah. You do," he murmured against your ear. "She wants to be good for me."

Down in the base of your stomach you felt the familiar pull of bliss begin to draw tight. You knew what came next. The rush of mind numbing pleasure trickled into your veins. Slowly drawing you higher with each stunted thrust—each echo of his fingers toying with your stretched cunt. You could count the seconds until it finally burst.

"I'm gonna–" The breath caught in your throat, hands clasping around his wrists as something shifted. "F-Fuck. Logan I'm–"

"Fuck yeah ya are," he grunted into your neck. "Gonna lick you clean after this. Get my fuckin' dessert."

His cock pounded deep against your walls, fingers pulling up the hood of your clit to circle rapidly against nerves that were already shot. And you sobbed his name. Your nails drew red angry marks on his arms that healed moments later; your body too fucking rigid and too hot to process what the fuck he was doing.

Elysium and the River Styx were ripping you apart. As if you were being pulled in two very different directions.

A clatter echoed beside you when he reached for your glass of wine, still stained with the now faded red of your lipstick. You felt his thigh shake—his cock twitching in the heat of your body. You wondered if this is what it felt like to burn alive. The sweet aching bliss of being held by your lover as he drowned you in the fire. Would this be how he took you to the Underworld?

The cold wash of wine spilled along your body as he poured out the remainder of the glass. His tongue quickly dragged across your blistering skin—drinking the cabernet off your body with a raspy groan of your name.

"'M almost there." He gripped the back of your neck and yanked you back with a kiss. His tongue plunging into your mouth—sharing the wine as his fingers pressed hard and fast against your swollen bud. "Give it to me huh? Fuckin' cum on my cock."

Your release ripped through your body with a scream. The echo of his name came back to you eventually, yet you couldn't figure out if you were the one saying it. With your nails piercing his skin, he felt you gush, choking his cock and milking him dry. A splatter of something wet landed on his thighs as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you still.

To bury himself as deep as he could go and finish with a blissful ragged groan against your shoulder. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over your spent body and you felt him fill you until it began to leak out. Coating the inside of your thighs.

"Are you breathing?" he chuckled, lips sliding along your neck to find your mouth.

You answered with a whimper. Which proved enough for him.

The stickiness of the wine began to dry against your bare body while his fingers dragged through the mixture of your cum that stuck to your thigh. He sighed—content and warm—as he lowered himself to the floor. His back pressed against your clothes and softening cock still buried in your dripping cunt.

"Speak to me bub." His fingers tapped your cheek, nose nudging against your jaw. "I can't have killed ya."

"You almost did," you mumbled, barely able to open your eyes.

Exhaustion sunk right down to your bones the longer you lay there wrapped in his arms. You knew the both of you should shower. Clean up and actually eat something in its entirety this time around. Logan would say the same if it weren't for the comforting press of your weight against his body. He cupped your breasts, thumbs toying with your peaked nipples, and kissed you with a sigh.

The both of you should say something to get the other moving. Yet neither of you did.

Instead you were met with silence and the crackle of the fire. Time, now a nonexistent variable to a night spent in each other's arms.

[hellcatazura]

Dancing like the sunlight on the water

Photos/dress: @the-gloomth