♤ 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚜 ♤
@lavendercharade.bsky.social
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𝙄 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. ✦ A vexing little thing known as Harley Fairchild. — #𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 — 21+ The Chaotic Portion of: #BloodyRapture #BloodyNocturne #BloodyDove | Partially Just a Writer Account |
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lavendercharade.bsky.social
— 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺: 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵.

x Writer Known as #Bloody
x #MoodyBitch
x No Filter - MDNI
x Mostly IC - Breaks of OOC Insanity

x Triggering Content Likely ~ Follow At Your Own Risk
lavendercharade.bsky.social
The Monday before last he did the tree of death. And the two prior were Tarot and their connection with the Tree of Life. Basically, quick ways to interpret Tarot readings.

I love Catwoman. I've got so many OCs. Tomorrow I'm going to try to throw myself into the writing pool here. Ha.
lavendercharade.bsky.social
Eee! I love that someone else watches! I get so excited for the Monday night lives.

And slowly picking up. I need to bring a couple faces over. I noticed DC Verse is very active here. Me and my Comic Nerd heart love it.
lavendercharade.bsky.social
Hi, I have a Faceclaim now, and the ability to use PSDs again. 🙈
lavendercharade.bsky.social
— 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺: 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵.

x Writer Known as #Bloody
x #MoodyBitch
x No Filter - MDNI
x Mostly IC - Breaks of OOC Insanity

x Triggering Content Likely ~ Follow At Your Own Risk
Reposted by ♤ 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚜 ♤
depraveddove.bsky.social
New event in Tainted Souls starting on September 1st. You have to sign up for this one so we made the announcement now to give time for everyone to sign up. You must be 18+

www.tumblr.com/depraveddove...

#discord #harrypotter #fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #writing #multifandom #allfandoms
Post by @depraveddove · 3 images
💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 1 · Tainted Souls: Welcome to Hogwarts Fest 2025 · Please note: You must be 18+ to join the server. IT’S TIME TO ANNOUNCE OUR NEXT ANNUAL WRITING EVENT! Welcome to Hogwarts 2025! It…
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lavendercharade.bsky.social
lavendercharade.bsky.social
-𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨-

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥 📖

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭." — 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐫, "𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐍𝐮𝐧"
lavendercharade.bsky.social
"And I'm starting to regret it." I breathe out nervously, stepping through the door. The wind catches my breath as we step into the night, and for a moment, I don’t feel like the girl I used to be at all.
lavendercharade.bsky.social
dare you to do one thing that makes your heart race. Say hi to a stranger. Get a tattoo. Steal a matchbook. Just… do something you’ll remember."

"And a matchbook will accomplish that?" I teased, before stepping through the door.

"You asked for my help, Harley." ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
shirt down slightly. "You know, when I said I wanted to try something new... I meant like- Macrame or skating... Not upending my whole wardrobe."

"Oh, I know." He follows me down the stairs with a laugh and just before we reach the door, he leans in and whispers, "Tonight, I ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
that aloud.

"You ready?" he calls up.

"Almost!"

My cousin appears in the doorway with a smirk. He eyes me, tilts his head, and grins like he knows a secret.

"You look almost cool," he teases, "Now let’s see if you can act like it."

I roll my eyes, tugging the hem of my ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
jacket, dark jeans, boots that click when I walk. Nothing vintage. Nothing soft.

Julian is downstairs already, thumbing through a photography book he bought on impulse and hasn’t read. He’s always on time, always a little too impatient. It makes me nervous, and I don’t say ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
since faded. But enough to nag. The chill of evening slips through the half-cracked window as I lean over the vanity, sweeping a final touch of gloss across my lips, nothing too bold, but glossier than I’d normally dare. My reflection looks almost like someone else: cropped ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
the letters back into the drawer, shove it shut, and step away from the desk like it’s caught fire. My pulse is hammering.

“I’m in here,” I call out, forcing calm into my voice.

The secret will have to wait.

Now, the memory of that name lingers, but only as a note in a song ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
as I reach for the last envelope, sealed in wax. Just as I start to crack it open, I hear the front door shut. Heavy footsteps follow.

“Hello?” a voice calls out.

I freeze. It’s my cousin Julian. He wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour... No, now. Dammit.

I shove ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
pages trembling slightly in my hands. There’s mention of a safe deposit box in Naples. A map fragment. The name “Giordano” circled twice in red. None of this was fitting with the image I held of the woman who lived well beyond expectancy. Who raised me...

My breath catches ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
the pit of my stomach. This doesn’t feel like a past fling. It feels like danger cloaked in glamour.

There’s a note scribbled on the back of the photo in her handwriting: 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘰.

The air feels heavier. I sift through the rest quickly, the ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
man, handsome and sharply dressed, with a small scar above his left eyebrow. The photo is dated 1957. He’s standing beside Evangeline. She’s not smiling. Neither is he. They look like people who have seen too much and promised to never speak of it again.

Something shifts in ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
The ink is faded but legible. It isn’t love poetry or a fan’s admiration. It’s a set of numbers. Coordinates maybe. Or code. The next page is in Italian. I recognize words like “famiglia” and “silenzio.” My heart beats faster.

Tucked between the pages is a photograph. It’s a ~
lavendercharade.bsky.social
with a black velvet ribbon, stiff with age.

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥. Scrawled on a note on top.

I untie it carefully and unfold one of the pages. ~