#laperlina

[azarathian]

﹙ © & © ﹚ but where shall they live ? happy birthday @laperlina !

[positivelys]

@laperlina is a sweetheart! she's kind to everyone who comes across her blog, and she's incredibly talented and detailed. i love eating her lore right up. she's a joy to have on the dash.

[sluaghter]

@laperlina asked: Hi, Papa. Did you ever wish you were, like, actually Irish? How long did it take for you to perfect your accent?

By 1995, Nicholas’ hairline has begun receding. It’s seven in the evening and Nicholas irons clothes.

The X Files is playing. 

“How old am I? Thirty-nine?” He hits the steam button. He erases a wrinkle. “Thirty-nine years. The moment I went to church, had Lucky Charms, and JFK was president, I knew I had to be Irish,” he tells her. He turns a leg over. 

“And you, Marzanna? When did you wish you were Slavic.”

[meethammer]

It isn't that he means to survey the room. That sounds intentional. He simply does. He does not question it much like a dog doesn't question why it bites, or why a jackal moves to hunt, or how the owner of this stripclub doesn't question this setlist. He counts the doors out of instinct, guessing one-hundred-twenty steps between him and the first, and he sees his boss tinged pink like medicated cocktails. She looks detached (?). He peers at his watch then stands back up.

"It's eleven." Past her bedtime. "I have to drive you home," he says, making her table of glossy friends moan and groan. It's a wonder if they even are her friends. Nothing has weight up this high on the ladder. They're all name brands, TMZ headlines in waiting, parasites for her fame, and trained smiles through removed buccal fat. Either way, he's her getaway driver, or he's clipping a caged bird's wings. / @laperlina.

[koschyei]

sender kisses receiver to show off for someone else. 💣

𓆩 ♔ 𓆪 @laperlina ( 𝒛𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒂 ) . . . various kisses ↳ accepting

in boy world, halloween is the 304th night of the year where a guy can walk into a room dressed like a total sim and still think he's the main character — except on leap years. or if you so happened to be the rarely spotted 6'6" ballerino cryptid from the sister school across the lake. in that case, you were most definitely the villain. well-loathed and well-loved at a diametric spectrum that depended mostly on everyone's relationship status or tolerance for beautiful men in tights. it was nothing koschei cared to complain about. he'd spent weeks grueling to prepare for the fall showcase; and after the standing ovations he'd received on his choreography tonight ( a near guarantee that he'd survive the cuts for next semester ) he deserved a chance to finally let loose and celebrate. away from the troupe. whom he'd sooner have see him expelled than shitfaced.

when the text came, tatia's invite had been accepted in a heartbeat. even if it meant betraying his dearest little cousin. the macabre skeleton she'd helped transform him into had been a showstopper, but after hitting the showers and striking her last nerve, he had no means of recreating the look. the best he could do then was keep to a black tee and joggers, re-wax his hair to match, and try for something closer to the crow. near and dear and good enough for him. see, in boy world, it didn't matter what your costume was either. in fact, it'd be best not to give a fuck about it at all. but after five rounds of beer pong and the ninth flirt cozied up to ask if he was the joker? he'd started having some regrets.

❛❛ yeah. ok, rachel — excuse me for a second. ❜❜ with no intention of actually coming back, he'd forfeited the match to some quarterback and walked off toward the kitchen in search of a knife. ( bullet holes and party people with some culture — maybe, that's what he was missing. ) amidst the thick wafts of spilled alcohol and pheromones, koschei rummaged through the drawers until he found what he was looking for. leaned against the counter, long legs protruding, you'd think he'd have as much body awareness as a great dane. especially as he'd lifted his shirt some to start puncturing through the fabric. over the thrum of music and chatter in the next room, he thought he heard someone snickering. didn't mean he'd risk losing a finger to see what that was all about. but then came the staccato click of heels, marching straight toward him. . .

of course he looked up then. only to find what — to the uncultured eye — could have been a victoria's secret model spawned straight out of hell. to his own, she was probably one of the most intriguing girls he'd ever seen. she'd hesitated just a step shy of him, equally speechless as he was. for her own reasons, which had shit to do with him, despite the crooked way he started to smile at her. ❛❛ not bad, kinky carrie. is that real pig's blood or — ❜❜ synthetic. mixed with candy lip smackers and... vodka? he couldn't quite tell. mind drowning and spinning, he was still lagging on the fact that he'd just been yanked in for a kiss. the young buck instinct to kiss back was near automatic. didn't ask any questions either. all it knew was that every ache and knot that had been lingering over his shoulders this week suddenly wanted nothing more than to melt over a beautiful stranger's entire frame.

the knife set down and tucked safely away from her, koschei's palm snaked over the blood at her neck and jaw, deepening the kiss enough to dash all hope in differentiating himself from a clown prince. well worth it though. her kiss had the sort of mean streak that always did it for him, but booze brained as they both probably were, he'd coaxed her to slow down, savor the moment. for weeks to come, he'd wonder if maybe this was the moment he royally fucked up. because suddenly she'd pulled away, and the cause of the whiplash? she was showing off for someone else. of course . . . it struck a miserable feeling. as if his heart had just taken a cold plunge. like hell he'd let it show though. or even deign to look at whoever it was. he simply kept a stark focus on her; his voice low, lips close and primed for conspiring in whatever sort of revenge plot he caught himself in. ❛❛ so. what's the damage there ? ❜❜

[cerynitiis]

❛ bury me shallow, i will be back. ❜

elia kneels next to the bathtub, rests her slender arms and right cheek on its cool edge. she peers at the willowy figure resting on the bottom of the white porcelain like a tired fawn. her matted black hair is strewn around her, a pool of ink. poor adella. this happens every now and then. it could be a shortage of sung praises. an absence of violets to eat. a lack of pretty faces to cheer her. to this day, she is not certain whether or not it will truly kill her poor mistress. but it is true her perfumed scent fades, and her hair becomes dull and tangled, and she stops painting her pretty eyes with that signature liner. bury me shallow, i will be back.

with the patience of someone accustomed to these theatrics, elia gently disentangles the heap of slender limbs, hoisting the willowy girl upright. it's a start. " oh, i'd dislike very much to bury you. surely you are far too beautiful to die, adella, even if only briefly. and the earth covering your pretty face! no, that surely wouldn't do. what if instead... i maybe soaked your hair in that black tea mixture, and combed it for you with your favorite whale bone comb, and arranged it in your wonderful braids with pearls? i have jars of dried rose petals just waiting to be eaten. and so many songs to be sung. doesn't that sound so much more delightful than crusty, damp earth, hmm? "

@laperlina

[avrorean]

🌲

POSITIVITY MEME || Accepting ↪ send 🌲 and i'll recommend a blog with thought-provoking headcanons

I only got a handful of these prompts so I'm gonna cheat and do multiple (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

@laperlina the sheer extent of storycrafting and worldbuilding Aqssa writes absolutely floors me. I love Adelaide so much. sometimes I just go through her info blog about her because it really is like reopening a chapter full of information about my favorite book, and it's one of those instances where I feel like I can lose myself in the world that's being crafted around this oc. I have so much respect for oc blogs who run entirely off original lore, and Aqssa's creativity is equal parts stunning and inspiring all at once. The dedication makes me feel inspired to push the boundaries of my own hcs and how I build them as well~

@isalarevas Farllee has been in the Big(tm) hc game for ages now and it's ALWAYS fantastic to read. The amount of work they've put in to craft this big, multi-warden universe with interconnecting threads and complex narratives—especially with my faborite bby albatross cenah at the center of this big shifting narrative—and I'm always ready to lock in when he drops another Big(tm) hc because i know I'm in for another expansion to Cenah World. The way she gradually grows from the unfavored child of Clan Lavellan into THE symbol of inspiration for the elves even after her (first) end coupled with the Tabris curse is 🤌

@craftsjoy Saint has put in so much work not only gathering all the canonical information on June throughout the games that often gets unseen or not paid attention to, but has taken all those pieces of the man that haunts the entirety of the series' narrative and has built the character I wish he'd been allowed to shine as. June as a person who both embraces his identity with so much pride and joy and struggles with his place in the empire and where he is in the aftermath, all with the depth and respect he deserves to have had. I love him SO much

[archaeval]

@laperlina ;;

𝑹𝑼𝑩𝒀 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑰𝑽𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑩 𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑳𝒀 through Adella's hair, sectioning off a few locks and pinning them to the side. "I've countless accessories, of course," she said, separating another section of hair, "but I think the mother-of-pearl butterfly will be the centerpiece once I'm done here."