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AnasAbdin
Game of Thrones Daily
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Cosimo Galluzzi
i don't do bad sauce passes
occasionally subtle
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
Kiana Khansmith
dirt enthusiast
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
izzy's playlists!
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@desobscurites
I burned my tongue on the first sip of you - slipped, from the saucer, into the cup, the scalding hot water, and my lungs filled with - a touch of jasmine, or ginger, and citrus peels - a squeeze of lemon, no sugar - no honey just you.
morning routine. // april 19, 2017. ephemere 30/30. (l.v.) purchase “ready aim fire”.
isadora.
The sudden presence of another in her vicinity caused the young witch’s heart beat to quicken, indicating that her guard was far too low for her surroundings. She had never been too worried about using magic in front of those that did not understand, especially on a night such as this, because she could disguise it in the alcohol or narcotics they had taken.
“ I’ve found that sometimes it can be the understanding ones that are the most cruel.” Isadora took a step back so she could fully take him in, her eyes hurriedly scanning him. “Oh I’ve mingled, I’ve doused myself in mingling. Just came outside for some fresh air.” which was ironic considering the soft billowing cloud of smoke screening her features as she exhaled. “ You don’t seem the mingling type yourself, but then I would’ve put you down as a whiskey drinker.”
Smart. He pulled his lips into a lopsided smirk. “That can be very true,” after all the ones that understand you can hurt you more effectively. Hence his unwillingness to open up again. “The appeal of understanding, though... Not so easy to resist, is it?”
Philippe breathed out a chuckle. “Is this what you call fresh air?” He waved his hand to cut through the smoke she exhaled. “I’ve been drinking the longest. Call it an habit.” The vampire lowered his sight to his glass, giving it another try. Then he motioned towards what had become of her red-yellow leaves, their ashes. “Is that all you can do?” Party tricks. Cute for the casual bystander, but wasted potential to his eyes.
@emmarcsette
This time it was by sight, not by scent, that he recognized her. Blonde little wolf with the bright blue eyes and the big smile, dressed like an angel no less. She brought an amused smile to his face. Of course she was. “And what kind of angel drinks until they have a permanent blush on their face?” Philippe asked as he approached her, answer at the tip of his tongue, “one who’s about to fall, obviously.”
isadora.
The fresh air was a welcomed change for Isadora, sometimes rooms became too loud and people spoke too much shit for her liking. Especially when alcohol was involved. As the witch inhaled on her cigarette, her other hand danced idly as a pile of crisp golden leaves fluttered gently into a small spiral at her feet. Using her magic in such a way soothed her, and she smiled as she watched them chase one another in the air before bursting into flames. Each leaf twisted and turned in nothing as their few remains fell to the floor in exile.
Mount Newell lacked in options where the nocturnal life was concerned. Philippe wasn’t about to step foot into his progeny’s club, though most businesses were ran by equally aggravating individuals. This was the establishment least bothersome, the vampire decided, at least for the night. Liquor was still needed in order for him to withstand the presence of lesser creatures though. He hoped to find suitable company, or in the very least, a delicious snack to take home. Hopefully both. Brown eyes scanned his surrounds, sharp and careful, until his fight fell upon a particular someone. It wasn’t her appearance or words that caught his attention, but her actions; hand dancing above a pile of yellowed leaves to make them dance into thin air until they burst into fire. A witch. A young, lone witch. Suitable company or snack?
Philippe made his way over to her. “You should be more careful,” the vampire offered, bringing his glass of wine half way to his lips before adding, “humans can be rather unkind to those they cannot understand.” And the power coursing through her was definitely a mystery. “Are you not ready to mingle?” He asked and finally took a sip from his drink.
Philippe’s costume for Halloween is Gatsby.
emma.
“Lemon and orange are nice,” she mused. “Fresh. Crisp. A little tangy. I’m told I smell of honeysuckle.“ she confided, the same easy smile resting on her lips as she spoke, her blue orbs continuing to light with amusement. "When I’m not coated in Original, of course.” Curiosity found her once more as eyes scanned the other. Well-rounded, seemingly put together. He had an air of age about him, and Emma wondered how long he’d be around, how he’d come to know Arthur. And when his gaze left hers, she wondered where his mind had taken him, what memories their conversation had pulled for him. She didn’t press though and instead, chose to keep the conversation light, making a mental note to ask him of his brushes with death should they meet again.
“Exactly why I’m out tonight.” came her reply as she brought her gaze back to his. “I’m not meeting anyone, no. Just determined to get out of my head for a while. To just see where the night takes me.” Anything was better than locking herself away at home for another night. “And you? Do you have any plans?”
“Honeysuckle?” Philippe took in a breath, then he smiled. “It must’ve been a sensorial memory. They are very powerful.” Other creatures said vampires smelled like death, but it was most likely blood they caught a whiff off and it translated into death in their minds. Odour wasn’t something a vampire produced, but something that caught on to him. Traces of blood, dirt, smoke. Tonight, it could even be honeysuckle.
“I did, until you walked through that door.” He surveyed her again, bringing his glass to his lips to finish it. “I’m not missing out on much.” Philippe stuck out his arm to give his wristwatch a glance. “There is time until dawn. I could go for a walk, enjoy the night. Crowded places like this steal some of its magic.” The vampire patted at his pockets for his wallet to offer the barkeep a generous tip. “You are very welcome to join me.”
lorelai.
The screech shook her core. It took a few moments of silence to focus back onto herself. Her knees crumbled down against the cement as her fingers splayed over the dead body. A mix between a whimper and a sigh caught her throat. She touched her neck with her free hand, clenching down at the ache that rattled in her throat. She didn’t catch onto the vampire – at least – not until he spoke.
Her wide eyes veered towards him, noting the crimson that pooled from his ears. Her brows twisted forward as a look of confusion swept over her expression. “You didn’t have to kill her.” It came out as a matter of fact, simply blaming the vampire for his own misdeeds. Like a newborn fawn, the brunette rose to her feet and shook. Her legs steadied as she slowly made her way across the alleyway. Her hand touched his cheek without his permission. She seemed unbothered as she slid a finger along the blood, wiping it from his face.
“I suppose I can’t really apologize for that.” She said, matter of fact once more. Her wide eyes drew towards the other side of his cheek, wiping the blood from there as well. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Her lips moved, but he caught no sound at first, her voice muffled, like he was listening to her through glass. The ringing quietened, he supposed in a much faster fashion that a human’s would, and noises poured in. Her footsteps, nearing him, and her voice, still quiet, but rising in volume with every word.
The touch to his cheek provoked a reaction, an echo within him. Tenderness. Then it was quiet inside too. “You...” The vampire started, but his voice sounded strange to his ears, as if he wasn’t himself. “You are a curious creature,” he spoke, reaching for her hand to remove it from his face and slowly finding his voice. “I’ve healed from worse.”
Philippe let go of her hand and, though he wasn’t ecstatic about this encounter, he couldn’t help but feel... curious. It wasn’t every day he met a creature like her. He had so many questions, too many questions. “I suppose we’ll be seeing each other quite often from now on. I could do with a name.”
Dinner Dash
ashley.
A hiss of fury pushed through her gritted teeth. “Because of course it’s my duty to bend and twist to accommodate your desires, your ego,” she spat out, acid in her tone. “I don’t share just because someone thinks they’re owed.” Ashley recognized what the vampire was doing, the way his gaze sought hers with authority, with the demand to be recognized and acknowledged. “As for your point it was a bit moot. I’ve been to a few of the infamous Mr. Ballard’s New Year’s Eve parties… an absolutely nightmarish stain of ego… so yes, I know who you are, I’m well aware you’re a bit of a pompous pratt. I just don’t happen to be very impressed.”
He smiled at her as if she was a child who made amusing demands, with a touch of fondness coloring his patronizing look. Cute. “It is not your duty, no, as isn’t mine to honor your claim.”
Philippe was surprised to hear her confession however, parting his lips with feigned offense as she insulted him and his parties both. “I am what you make of me,” he offered with no correction or defense, but made sure to memorize her face. It shouldn’t be hard. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another stain of ego to plan. And if you receive an invitation to it, please, by all means, do feel free to turn it down.” His words were delivered with a smile that was just a little tight at the corners, his distaste pouring through his expression. Then he left.
He wouldn’t think of her again that night, but the next time he thought about the New Year’s Eve, the blonde’s face would come to his mind. And he would hate it.
malachi.
The words uttered by Philippe just made Malachi laugh. The triviality of this vampire reaching a high point. “And to think there was a brief moment when I actually respected you.” Brief, but it had been there. He didn’t exactly respect the vampire but the part of his character that played dirty in order to get what he wanted. That manipulative and creative way in which he fucked with them was actually admirable. And he thought he would have done the same for the right reasons. “Turns out you are just as cliche as the rest of them, how disappointing. Maybe you just need a hobby. You should try yoga or knitting. Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound? Let it go, old man. You already made a fool of yourself once.”
A laugh escaped his lips, scoffed out and humorless, and he shook his head. “Your respect means nothing to me.” At this point, there was very little he wanted from the vampire other than obliteration. He’d been at odds with his maker for too long, and the wound had been so profound, he fared sometimes it’d never be mended. But this creature, this insignificant, deluded, worthless creature... had reached out to his sire and pointed out his sins. Malachi should be thanking Patricius for being so thorough with his commands, otherwise he wouldn’t have left enough to bury. His offence was much more serious than he realized. He made him into a monster for his sire to slay, and he did. Betrayal and heartbreak, all over again. For that he wanted him dead. Henryk too, their witnesses. “You forget, Malachi, that I know your weaknesses. I know just how to hurt you. So go on, pick a fight with me. Let’s see how long you’ll last before I break you.” Not tonight though. Not like this, and not just yet. Philippe would make sure it wouldn’t be too quick, but it was coming. With one last disdainful look, he left the vampire behind. It wasn’t like he could enjoy himself in his presence, not until he could get his hands on him anyway.
anne.
He could believe what he wanted, she certainly wasn’t here to aim to sway opinion, his or otherwise, however, a creature like herself didn’t find interest in just anyone, and while he might have piqued it; he’d also managed to squash it rather poetically. “I happen to converse with people out of boredom all the time, call it a kink if you will. It leads me to all sorts of predicaments.” Usually those of which she could tarnish her own blonde locks with the crimson led of her victims veins, to toy cat and mouse with someone far too deluded to realize she was far more vicious than any feline. “I think you’re grasping for something that’s not there.” The blossoming smile that pressed delicate features might have told wonders of her own curiosity, Anne still didn’t quite understand Henryk and Malachi’s distaste for the man since she so wholly believed the trouble they got themselves into was entirely their own fault most of the time. “Worried? Do I look like a woman that worries to you?” A manicured brow rose with little effort, “Well who knows how many of my sire and your darling fledglings misgivings are you looking to seek penance for? You know very well targeting me would send Malachi into quite a fit, and Malachi in a fit certainly forces Henryk’s hand well enough, but that’s only the most drastic of reasons. I happen to think I’m interesting enough to stalk even in the most lowly of ways. Sometimes a girl likes to be the one followed.” A glint in oceanic hues far more devilish than any could expect. “Do me a favor and don’t burst my bubble so early on in the night.” Fingertips ran the rim of her glass before she pushed back on the railing of the courtyard. “Perhaps that is something we can agree on.”
He wondered what about the woman’s profound disinterest was so entertaining to him, what kept him from walking away when it became so apparent she enjoyed this. He was absolutely grasping for something that was never there, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate what in fact was. He supposed that was one of the things he enjoyed about her, more questions than answers, always. “That is my loss then,” the vampire said with a smile that lacked in defeat. He was as stubborn as he was old.
“You look like you feel absolutely nothing but mild annoyance,” Philippe said, taking a drink and giving the thought a soft nod. “Naturally, I refuse to believe that.” He turned to give her a measuring look. “I do know that,” and he did, she’d have been the perfect countercurse to hurt the vampire with, though that plan had fallen through when the two reached out to his sire, of all people, to command him into good behavior. He’d punish them for getting the man involved, but everything in time. “But if I were to stalk you, it wouldn’t be for them.”
Philippe took a step back from the vampiress. “I hope to see you again, Anne, perhaps under friendlier circumstances, though something tells me you don’t care much for friends.” His smile was curious before he dived back into the crowd.
Dinner Dash
ashley.
Vampire’s were stupid when their pride was insulted. Logically Ash knew enough about Philippe Ballard to know he had many years on her and could most likely take her out effortlessly in a fight. It was just one redhead… she could find another to savor. But it wasn’t about the redhead herself anymore, he’d simply taken something she’d meant to be hers. And that fact made her blood boil. Every time it happened she hated her Sire all over gain because she’d been led to believe that as a vampire no one would ever take from her again. Fingers clutch tightly at her side and her fair features twisted into poisonous outrage.
“You. Didn’t. Even. Taste. Her,” she proclaimed, disgusted and absolutely offended at the waste of the human slowly burning out at their feet. “Hell I had plans for her, a good hour of teasing, a chance to let the fear and adrenaline marinate… you didn’t even give her time to see what was coming. A waste… you absolutely wasted her.”
“Did I?” He lowered his sight to the redhead, once a beautiful woman, young and full of life. Philippe wasn’t sure if he’d have killed her, or allowed her to live after he was sated. It depended on whether she amused him, naturally, but this had been a quick death sentence. “I believe she served me perfectly as a point.” He hated to be challenged, specially by someone who wouldn’t even acknowledge him. He forced her to look him in the eye and, no matter how much disgust colored her irises, it was infinitely better than a brush of shoulders. She would remember him now, even if her memory was an unpleasant one. “If only you had been more of a sharer...”
iris.
Weary eyes scanned the vampire lounging in her home, making himself comfortable as if he owned the place, but she held her composure, a feigned look of indifference settling over her features. “Busy night indeed,” she answered briskly, recalling the meeting she’d finally wrapped with her public relations agent as she shook her coat from her shoulders and moved to hang it in the hall before returning to sight. A free hand brushed through loose locks, the only sign of her exhaustion, as she finally gave the other her full attention. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr…?” She trailed, leaving the vampire room to introduce himself.
He should’ve taken offense that she didn’t recognize him, but he hadn’t been as active in the Syndicate as of late, and he often brought his affairs straight to Arthur so he was willing to let this one pass. “Ballard,” the vampire, “and I believe we should start this conversation with you offering me a drink, darling. After all, we are not animals.”
Philippe rose from his seat, placing the grimoire on the side table and taking a few steps closer to the woman. “I suppose I should answer your question first,” the one she hadn’t dared to voice. “I am not your enemy, Iris. Au contraire, I think we are about to become good friends. No harm will befall you by my hands, that much I can promise you.”
kenneth.
“Usually you make a little more on the tips if you promote a guest appearance. Most people would pay a shit ton more to see a porn star strip than you’d expect – especially with social media promotion.” It wasn’t a difficult concept to explain. It was, however, a strange to for some people to wrap their heads around. By the blatant curiosity on the vampire’s features, he figured it wouldn’t be too far a stretch for him. He was never too wild in his own assumptions, but he figured that the man wasn’t someone that vouched for incrimination of his work.
A grin stretched his lips once more. “It’s not all screaming. I can usually tell what they’re saying, y’know. It’s a lot of anger and grief tied into a song. Not many people can express that in their music without screaming it out.” He glanced over towards the starlet once more, eyes softening at the sight. “I don’t mind it. It’s just not usually my gig.”
Philippe fell into silence as he watched his company, trying to figure out whether he meant he worked with porn stars or he was one of them. It didn’t much matter to him, he was far from a moralist, having spent the majority of his life shocking the proper society all over the world. He was a savage at heart, after all, wrapped up in the good mannerisms of victorian society. It was good to pretend, to play the role of gentleman, when in truth he wanted to rip those good proper ladies apart. And he’d left his mark, some that were remembered with delight, others with horror, but most written in blood, forgotten in a room that reeked of death.
“I used to run a strip club,” he confessed after a moment without much of an explanation. “The dancers were...” Delicious. “Very good.” Philippe landed his sight upon the man again, taking his form into consideration. “I haven’t met so many porn stars.” Escorts were his preferred type of sex worker, which was no surprise considering he avoided modern technology as often as he could get away with it.
“That’s just poor communication,” he insisted, but a smile at the corner of his lips revealed his teasing. “We could take a look around backstage,” the vampire offered. The longer he spent in the man’s company, the more appetizing he looked. “Maybe something like that would appeal to you, as a performer,” he said with a meaningful, lopsided smile. Philippe loved the arts, but in truth he had no talent for it. A little piano, at most, but even then he was a mediocre player and he’d rather not play in that case, but to listen to those with real talent. “What do you say?”
spencer.
The vampire’s initial explanation didn’t do much for Spencer except make his raise eyebrows, uncomprehending. He knew the word, but it was still something he associated with fairy tales, not a real object, with value and power. “I’m not going looking through witches’ bookshelves,” Spencer’s shoulders rolled in a shrug, not embarrassed he’d never seen a real spellbook before. Vampires had warped standards about what was normal.
“So if it’s not much use…?” Spencer let the sentence dangle, question unsaid as he watched the grimoire’s pages turn. Even if he couldn’t use it, the care the vampire paid to the book told Spencer he respected it. It made him wonder how long he’d been haunting the earth, a jarring reminder the man in front of him could easily have lived a dozens of his lifetimes. The concept of immortal being was still not something Spencer was able to fit neatly into his ideas about reality, despite the evidence he was consistent faced with.
His reaction was to be expected, but it always inevitably made Philippe feel misunderstood. If someone offered him the power to wield magic in exchange for his immortality, he’d have at least been tempted by the offer. Imagine the wonderful things one could do with it, how spectacular it would be to create life from matter, to control nature or raise the dead. Magic was power, pure and simple, and it was infinitely more interesting than anything else he’d come across in sixteen centuries of walking the earth. Yet, he couldn’t wield it. How frustrating it was to know exactly what to do with something you could never have.
“Arthur can’t shift into a wolf,” the vampire reminded him with a stern look, “that’s what he has werewolves for. It’s the same concept.” Philippe moved his palm across the leather of the book’s cover with adoration. “I work with witches from all over the world and, together, we can do unthinkable things.” He smiled at the wolf and this time there was no disapproval on his semblance. “Sometimes you can’t do everything by yourself---ah, I missed your name, what should I call you?”
