#night balcony

[huariqueje]

Fortress - Francesco Pirazzi , 2023.

Italian , b. 1994 -

Oil on canvas , 63 x 80 cm.

[ai-dream]

[proventobeaj3lover]

ONE WORD

SMASH

(read tags)

[lizardkingeliot]

It’s my brother’s funeral.

[achromatophoric]

Yoko: So what we got for movie night?

Enid: It’s Willa’s turn—

Collective groans fill the room.

Enid: —but she promised to pick something different.

Bianca: For real? So not a gore fest?

Divina: Or something traumatizing?

Yoko: Or otherwise nightmare-inducing?

Wednesday: 😒

Enid: Oh give her a break. It’s a cartoon with fluffy animals. Isn’t that right, babe?

Wednesday: That is correct. I have selected a classic animated film from 1978 which was, I will point out, rated G.

Bianca: Uh huh. What’s it about?

Wednesday: Rabbits.

Yoko: Good enough for me. Start it up!

Everyone settles into their favorite spots as the movie begins.

Enid: Hey babe, what’s this called again?

Wednesday: Watership Down.

[musubiki]

limochi rkgk

[kitten4sannie]

someone please sedate me

[tryingtostaysilly]

Duke: Mon amie we're never going to get another chance like this and she's too much of a threat. I'm throwing her off the balcony.

Annabel: Pet don't trust this fruity European and his stupid little moustache you gotta save your beautiful wife from being murdered again please.

Lenore: EEEYIKES! Whuddo I do here?? Gotta think fast otherwise Annabel Lee will be "NEVERMORE!"

Pluto: I don't think I've ever known what real parental love feels like.

Morella Eulalie and Berenice:

[littlenim]

how did the writers of DE make it so addicting to try and get Kim to like... smile near-imperceptibly at you in the flickering light of a cigarette glow. genuinely about to write a google docs page of word salad on this and how the way it's so irrelevant and almost certainly fruitless makes it so tantalizing

[edenfire]

🌙❤️ Shuake Week - Day 5 - Royalty ❤️🌙

I'm so weak for forbidden romance with thief akira coming to whisk prince goro away~💗💗💗

[huariqueje]

Nocturne in Velate  -   Renato Guttuso , 1962.

Italian,  1911-1987  

Oil on canvas,  116 x 89.5 cm.   

[silvykinesis]

That wine is tasting like Vio’s catching feelings for the enemy

[ai-dream]

[holdmymallowsweet]

A Wisp of Affection

Richard Jackdaw x f!MC

Word count: 1,635

A chance meeting in the depth of a summer night leads to some playful banter, and an intriguing question.

Also on AO3, properly tagged

a/n: I’ve been feeling a certain way about this ghost boy lately, and then I came across Sasha Alex Sloan’s “Dancing with your Ghost” by chance and it put me in a wonderfully melancholic mood. And now that you know what to blame for this, enjoy.

There was something enticing about the Forbidden Forest at night. Laced with a prickling sense of danger, it promised adventure and glory- or perhaps notoriety, for those bold enough to venture into it. He might not have met an untimely death, if it hadn’t been for his odd fascination with the place.

Soft footsteps and rustling in the grass told him someone was approaching, and he felt her presence before he even saw her.

She found him again.

He turned his head to look at her, which always startled her a bit-

But then, where was the fun in getting his head cut off, if he couldn’t use it for comedic effect? And it always made her laugh in the end.

This time was no different, eyebrows raised in a slightly disturbed frown, corners of her lips twitching upwards, she gave him a quick huff of laughter before closing the distance between them. 

“Hello, Jackdaw.”

She strode over to him, disturbing a swarm of fireflies as she went, before she sat down.

“Hello, you. Out for a midnight stroll?”

“Always, you know me.” She flashed him another one of her playful smiles.

He returned it fondly. They both liked to pretend that she came across him by accident when they met like this, usually in the depth of night, when everything was quiet, save for the ambient sounds of the forest. He always found it romantic, although not many agreed, at least not the girls he tried to court when he was alive.

She took a deep breath of air. The fireflies illuminating her skin when they flew close and the serene look on her face made her feel like something out of a dream. More of an apparition than himself. The sight would have made his heart flutter, if he’d had one. She brushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, only getting it at the second try, and he wished he could have done it for her.

He’d known they were kindred spirits when he sent her off into the cave where he met his demise. When he noticed she still had her head, the next time he saw her, he was both relieved and disappointed. He wasn’t entirely sure how tangible relationships between ghosts could be, but Merlin, he’d have liked to discover it with her, if it had come to that.

Curious, fearless, playful and teasing in a way that felt warm and endearing rather than malicious. Traits that Anne had once shared with her, before Azkaban cruelly burnt them away. Perhaps that’s why he’d briefly entertained the notion of picking up where he left off with this one.

It was quite pointless to think about, really. He wasn’t of her world, and she wasn’t from his time, not even born yet when he was alive. It was no matter, he’d never mature- mentally or physically- beyond his 17 year old self. Whatever it was that they shared on these summer nights, it was a fleeting sensation. Soon enough, she’d outgrow him, worry about employment and other adult responsibilities, perhaps remember him as a schoolgirl crush as she aged while he would be no different than he was now. Waiting around for the next lass or lad who’d indulge him, but she’d likely always be one of his favourites.

He looked up at her- which reminded him that he was still holding his head, which he promptly replaced on his neck- waiting for her to speak. In the beginning, he’d tried to woo her with tales of his adventures, but she wasn’t easily impressed. Understandable, as she had plenty of adventures of her own under her belt. Over time, he realised that it was more rewarding to enjoy the silence with her, until she’d suddenly have a thought, or a question that led to something- a jaunt through the forest or sometimes just a bit of teasing back and forth between them, but he loved it all the same. 

“How’s Anne?”

All right, not what he’d hoped for. 

“Much the same, really, but I don’t want to talk about Anne right now.” He only ever visited her in St. Mungos out of a sense of moral obligation, she only vaguely remembered him and they no longer had anything to talk about anyway. Being ultimately responsible for her fate, the guilt would forever stay with him, but he didn’t want to let it spoil the moment.

She said nothing, only measured him with those piercing eyes of hers that seemed to see right through him, in more ways than the obvious one. She’d always been the perceptive sort, had a knack for figuring out what went on in the heads of others. It could be quite unnerving, but thrilling at the same time.

“How come I never see you around the castle?” she asked, evidently content to drop her previous question.

“Why, did you miss me?”  

He’d avoided her on purpose. She had her own life in the light of day, and he didn’t want to constantly fight the temptation to invade her privacy. This was at most a dalliance, not the romance of the century, and it was better that way, considering their circumstances.

“Do you remember the deathday ballroom? I thought I’d see you there sometimes, but I never do.” 

He made a face. “Not really my preferred choice of location. Or company.”

She chuckled. “Not one for dancing, are you?”

“Did you happen to take a look at the other ghosts? Hardly anyone there who’s not old enough to be my mother. Or my grandmother.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain at least some of them died after you.”

“That’s not really how this works.”

She laughed. If only he could dance with her- 

Actually, perhaps he could. One of those stiff, boring dances that didn’t involve touching. He watched her as she pushed back that strand of hair again. It was hard to imagine her curtsying in a pretty dress anyway, she looked much better running and scrambling through the forest, with the hems of her robes frayed beyond the capabilities of even the most potent repairing charms.

“You know, speaking of dance partners…” 

“Yes?” He was perfectly willing to change his mind though, if that’s where she was going with this.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” she asked, giving him a curious look.

“I’ve done more than kissing, little fledgeling. I was quite popular with the girls in my time.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a derisive snort. “Oh? How’d that work out for you?”

He grimaced. Poorly almost seemed to be an understatement, but then neither of them had ever been as good a match for him as her. More willing and able to follow his clues and solve his riddles than Anne, more intrigued by the treasures in his thief’s den than Apollonia- she was a bit of a magpie herself, much like him. They would have been so good together.

“Why, looking to take advantage of my expertise, are you?” She had no shortage of male acquaintances she might possibly want to kiss. Personally, his galleons were on the freckled brunet- that one reminded him a bit of himself. He wasn’t sure what she would have wanted with the sarcastic, blind one, but then there was no accounting for taste, and she always was a bit unpredictable. He wouldn’t blame her either way, there could never be anything real between the two of them, and she had needs like any other person.

“Do you miss it?”

“Obviously.”

She didn’t respond immediately, staring at her outstretched legs, tapping the tips of her boots together.

“If someone kissed you… uhm, had their lips close enough to yours that you would be kissing, I suppose, do you think you could feel it?”

He took a moment to stare at her. “Of course not.” 

She turned to meet his eyes. Was he imagining the slight blush on her cheeks? It was hard to tell in the darkness. Was this going where he thought it was?

“I mean emotionally. You can clearly feel joy, and sadness-”

“Only one way to find out.” He swiftly grabbed his head again, holding it so that he was at eye level with her- if she wanted to, she could laugh, play it off as a joke.

Merlin, that startled expression was even more adorable up close, and her theory was already proven right. He couldn’t remember ever being so excited and nervous about a kiss, not even when he was alive. But there was no way he’d tell her, not while there was still a chance that she’d close the distance, and he could perhaps feel the tiniest sliver of her warmth, or get an idea of what she tasted like.

He almost couldn’t believe his luck when she leaned forward, close enough that he could count her eyelashes, only to stop a finger’s width away from his lips. 

Then she smirked. “Did you think I was going to give you my first kiss? Just like that?”

“Well, it wouldn’t have to count-” he pouted.

She laughed. “If you want my kiss, you’ll have to earn it.”

“How?”

She stood up, brushing dirt off her robes. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said, flashing him a last, teasing smile before she turned around and started walking back the way she’d come.

“You’re leaving?” 

“For today.”

His mind feverishly tried to come up with something, anything, to get her to stay.

“Wait.”

She turned around, looking at him expectantly.

“How about a riddle? Just for you. In exchange for the kiss.”

Her eyes sparkled.

There was no version of forever that they could share, but on these summer nights, for a brief, fleeting moment in time, she was his.

a/n 2 : So there you go, I wrote this over the course of two glorious moody summer nights and it was so much fun. They always say ‘write what you want to read’, and this really is just something I really, really wanted at that moment, but if you liked it as well (let me know if you did) I’m happy. ❤️ This little encounter takes place after the whole Ranrok issue is resolved and Mc is just another (adventurous) student, Anne has been released from Azkaban and is living at St. Mungo’s permanent care ward, while Jackdaw is trying to settle in as one of Hogwarts’ ghosts. Also, I always imagined Jackdaw as a Slytherin (but I’m coming around to Ravenclaw!Jackdaw) and both MC and Anne as muggleborn Hufflepuffs (I just like the idea of those two being awfully similar, but with the crucial difference that Mc really is as adventurous and clever as Jackdaw expected Anne to be), but in the end none of their houses came up 😅 And finally, english isn’t my first language, so if you liked the story but you had a “she keeps using that word, I don’t think it means what she thinks it means” moment, feel free to let me know (just be nice about it) Cheers!

[robinpics]

On the Most Famous Fetish Belgian Balcony (MF²B²) at night

[somnas-writes]

Sharing my writing on this website feels weird but

Imagine an Azriel that doesn’t exist. He’s a ghost in the eyes of the world, he isn’t known publicly, by the courts or even by his closest friends.

His job is the night courts spy, his job is to be sneaky and unknown, so why would he be a public figure? Why would there be records of his existence?

There are rumors about a male made of shadow, it’s a horror story maids tell the children of lords, so they behave. It’s an urban legend among the higher fae, the night courts monster that has no problem going undetected through your wards.

The high lords have a suspicion that a shadow spymaster exists, but they’ve never seen him nor do they have any proof.

Azriel who makes appearances as often as the planets align, whose existence is only confirmed to the Inner Circle of the night court. Even then, they rarely meet face to face, only relying messages through letters and notes.

An azriel who doesn’t exist, but desperately wants to.