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~The Blackheart Masquerade 2020 ~ The Devil's Edge - VIP Lounge~


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Black Masquerade

Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde

At This point, she had no idea what she was even feeling around for. A small not even two-inch piece of parchment.. or her sanity. The alcohol hit her hard when she crouched down, and she feared if she tried to stand up, ticket or not, she might fall right back on her ass.

god, I'm trashed. Was her first thought when birds started singing instead of just the music.

The hell did they put in those martinis as the fog started to shift just around the area she had plopped down.. completely forgetting she was looking for anything. Suddenly little flickers of light began to illuminate the once lost parchment. “Oh hey look my raffle” quickly snatching it up and putting it in the pocket of the lab coat that was her Dr. Jekyll side of her costume.

-“Once your ticket is found, may I help you back to your feet?”- a voice came from a very floral creature. She smelled of baby’s breath, and something else. She was unsure of what. A possibly friendly hand extended to help poor Dr. Jekyll up.

Without hesitation. Dr. Jekyll grabbed the hand and pulled herself to her feet. Just looking up made her a little wobbly. So, the sooner she was at the same level as the kind spirit, the better.

October 23, 2020 08:47 pm

Black Masquerade

The King in Yellow ~ A Scorched Summer

Slender, slinking shadows spilled in lush tendrils unto the brazen, summer heat. Cold malice in a golden chalice. Quiet in repose, the unnerving figure absorbed the frivolity of mongrel masquerade. A shimmering pasquinade of joie de vivre; a kumbaya gathering on the island of misfit toys.

A brooding brow crumpled in agitation, eyes of cimmerian gloom flashing forbiddingly in the demon dark. A maelstrom of sounds, some loud, some hushed like catacomb whispers, caressed the senses. Nocturnal dreams and temptations, feasting on the parade of light and sound. Ripped from it all, there he stood, bathed in the glamor of defiled divinity and immorality. The poisonous corrosion of his resplendent aura, so horrifically dark and potent, it blended and folded, turned and twisted into the haughty ambience; it flickered, fought, corrupted and decayed.

The Russian roulette gaze shot from one caricature to the next, searching for the serendipitous prize - the bleeding-heart scream of the night. His fetishes were obscene, sinister, forbidden; and so he found little to satiate in the crowd. No one to even begin to appease the throttled thirst at his throat. Only the promise of dust of their bones, to leave him in such inflamed pangs of hideous torment and unadulterated homicidal mania. For so long, he had gone truly unappeased. Dragging on with the affliction of a tasteless, bland meal. But tonight, he would feast.

A restless ease rippled through the cancerous tissue of inflamed flesh, hidden behind the mask of Ra. A rapid hunger clenched between the teeth of his monstrous jaw, ground to the bone. The searing gaze flitting back and forth across the myriad of faces, ever searching, neverending, till it zoned upon a beautiful disaster. Under the crystalline glow, a broken madonna stood in her ruin. Baited were the hooks of his gaze, the resonating depth to the shadows of his leer, as the red dangles against the pitch. Blood, it pours eerily across his rotting visage, though, his focus is soon distracted.

A disturbance caught in his peripheral, drew attention to this.. woman waving at him. It appeared to have been afflicted with the most terrible form of dementia, or else, had been cursed for some past-life transgressions in the cruelest of ways. If those eyes had lids, they would've blinked. Beneath the hood, the falcon head slowly canted to the side, trying his best to comprehend this quandary. Around him, the slithering tentacles unfurled and levitated in waves, while behind the mask, the pestiferous sea of maggots bared their teeth in a smile.
October 23, 2020 10:27 pm

Black Masquerade

Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde

Realizing she was still holding the strangers hand.. she took it away, and braced herself on the table. It slid a bit from her weight and over adjusted her stance, and stumbled again.. an embarrassed laugh escaped , catching her by surprise..I need food. She caught the attention of one of the servers. “could I get some steak fries on a steak.” Then back over to the lady who’s appearance was of the goddess of spring. “thank you by the way” a little slur to her works, but she was managing. no more martinis for a bit

October 24, 2020 02:40 am

Black Masquerade


Running down the darkened street the invitee dug the torn but beautifully embossed card from a left pocket, refreshing their mind on the location, time and…. requirements.  Seriously?  Fancy dress. Shouldn’t really have been a surprise? Skidding to a halt a few blocks away, a hire shop was spotted and  they went inside.

15 minutes later

Shuffling to the door the custard coloured rosy cheeked blob with horns was becoming more satisfied with their choice. Roomy enough to be dressed normally beneath (with backpack) and a mini taser tucked in the left glove would simply add an inspired level of authenticity to the get up, should anyone wish to attempt to ‘Try and catchem all’ 

With a sidestep, the doorman, well, moved to become a door and the blob pointed a tiny arm to where the invite was pinned to chest

“Peeka  Pee ?”

Raffle Ticket #28
October 24, 2020 07:10 am

Black Masquerade

Violet Beauregarde

She chomped down on the gum, it was beginning to lose its flavor again. She took the huge chunk and stuck it onto the side of a random empty glass as she passed by. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a pink container of Bubble Tape. Breaking pieces off and shoving them into her mouth she was careful not to over do it this time. Her jaw was starting to hurt from all this chewing!

At last her bodysuit had reinflated itself. She waddled through the masquerade looking like a great, giant blueberry. That was the point of course. She wriggled between two tables, a stool falling on it’s side. She turned around to pick it up but it caught another stool and it fell over as well. Maybe she hadn't thought this all the way through. It took a few minutes and it was a struggle but she finally managed to get all of it in order.

She glanced around the masquerade, there was one person she was sure she could make conversation with. She tottered towards the woman pink bunny slippers. Almost the table where the Spicy Disaster was she grinned. “Hey! Excelle--” Her words broke off as she ran into a chair that she hadn’t noticed. She wobbled about trying to catch herself. Nope. She flipped right over the chair and landed right on the woman. A huge whoosh of air released from her bodysuit.

She blinked, shocked a moment then struggled up. Once on her feet the suit began to inflate once more. “Whoopsie!” Stepped back a bit to give the woman some room to get up. “I was just going to say great costume! Love the slippers!” She stared a moment. Had she killed her? With all the murders as of late she sure as heck hoped not. What an undignified way to go! “Um…” She nudged the woman with her foot. “You need some help getting up?”
October 24, 2020 06:42 pm

Black Masquerade


The server arrived with their drinks and food, he placed them on the table. “Thanks.” Picked up her drink and took a long sip. Then she noticed that the server seemed to linger. Cerulean hues shot between him and Ethel. Was she supposed to tip this guy? She waited several more seconds to see if he would leave. This was starting to feel a bit awkward.

“Okay, okay. Here’s a tip for you. If you cut the Ben and Jerry’s carton in half it makes it easier to share!” The man didn’t look impressed at her attempt at humor. Tough audience! She mumbled something under her breath as she reached into her purse and took out a few bills. As she handed them over he turned and walked away. “Thanks.” He didn’t even smile. Rude!

“He’s baba’d his last lu!” She wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but whatever. She took another sip of her drink and began to munch on the shrimp canapes. Lucy was quick to recover from the mishap with the server. She twisted her gaze over the party. She watched Pretty Woman making eyes at the King in Yellow. She snorted a bit, that was sure to be a match made in Heaven.

Then she caught sight of Pikachu entering! “OH MY GOD HE’S SO CUTE!” She calmed herself, took another drink of her drink. She straightened the red wig on her head that seemed to have shifted a bit when she plopped down. "Excuse me I need another one of these." She said to a passing server. She polished off the rest and looked to Ethel. “So, you dragged me here. What are we gonna do now?”
October 24, 2020 08:09 pm

Black Masquerade

Angel of Vengeance

Instead of full armor as she would have normally worn, she chose a black and crimson corsetted dress. The dress fit like a second skin across her bosom and slim waist before billowing out. There was a slit up to her thigh on each side making it easier to move freely.  Leather boots up to her thigh completes the first part of the ensemble.

She pulls the black and red, breast plate over her head, careful as she pulls her crimson and black wings through, allowing them to flutter lightly. Grabbing the twin katanas, she strapped them to her back and looked at the reflection in the mirror. It was going to have to do.

She was late, something that was not necessarily new for her. With her luck she would be the last to arrive. She just hoped that not all eyes would be on her as she hated being the center of attention. Well here goes nothing. Swallowing the lump in her throat she opened the doors and stepped inside.

Raffle Ticket #29
October 25, 2020 01:26 pm

Black Masquerade

Oya; the Orisha.

It had been an interesting night thus far; lots of beautiful, intriguing costumes, though, some borderline on insane, but it certainly had given the little brunette something to enjoy as she sipped champagne and picked through the food she had ordered not that long ago. She loved watching the interactions between people, though, she would have never thought an accident would happen this early in the night; it was clear she had rarely enjoyed the parties her hometown was famous for, or she’d have been prepared for the drunken revelry that would extend long into the night.

Copper orbs would peer out from the deep red mask hiding her identity, gazing across the masses, the slight smile on her face was genuine; Oya really didn’t think she’d enjoy this as much as she has, even if she has been sitting apart from all the rest to observe, it was quite entertaining.

She only wished she had brought her camera to capture some of the more extravagant events.

Something that would have her dumping her clutch onto the bar as she searched for something that she never left home without; a sketchpad.

And that is how she’d spend the next few hours.

Sketching the beautiful, the interesting, and the odd.

While sipping on rosé and snacking on...well, she didn’t remember. It was definitely a dip. Maybe?
October 26, 2020 10:30 am

Black Masquerade

Spicy Disaster

She was actually enjoying herself; mostly, it was the people watching through what most would call beer goggles, but the costumes were great, some absolutely hilarious and that was what would make the night worthwhile.

Never would she think that her ass would be sat down by a walking beach ball.

But it would come.

Giant purple ball bounding toward her like some runaway train, ironic since she was dressed like a hobo; there might have been some strange gurgle that came from the woman when she hit the floor. It might have been because she wasn’t so worried about the ass that could have been broken from hitting landing on it so abruptly, no, not really.

Her real concern was the bottle of booze in her hand.

Wide-eyed, she would focus the blurry gaze on the purple woman as she nudged her; the words finally penetrating the vodka fog, or a concussion, there was no real way to tell.

“I’m...” The bottle clinched between her fingers seemed to fair well with the accident, so she’d tilt it toward her mouth to check (it’s a legit way of testing) and with not one drop wasted as they gracefully landed on the ground, Spicy Disaster could give a positive answer.

“We’re good! Nothing broken. Well, the bottle isn’t.” A winning smile was tilted upward toward the concerned train, nearly drawing her focus completely because who wouldn’t want to watch her blow up again, but with the compliment still rolling around in her brain she would tilt that elven face toward the slippers on her feet and wiggle them.

“Oh, thanks! I found them...” That was it. Nothing more. She found them. Somewhere. Probably not in a place no one wanted to know about. “You know, I think I’m good down here. I’m less likely to fall again.”

Stepped on, maybe.

October 26, 2020 10:31 am

Black Masquerade

The Nun

Covered from head to toe in black robes, the Nun moved breezily through the bodyguards; almost like she was floating on air, the glide was so perfected. An air of hostility encircled the figure as she peered out from behind the simple mask that was sculpted to fit the curves and dips of her haughty visage, would only leave the full pout of her mouth exposed; the plain black mask would help her to keep her anonymity while she danced through the throngs of people, her plan already in motion.

Fingering the long rosary, hiding the prize, she would move silently around; not eating nor drinking, instead those dark eyes would keep a wary vigil on who might be whom.

Her siblings.

It was time to take her place.

Even by force.

The game was afoot.

And it was life or death.

Raffle Ticket #30
October 26, 2020 10:32 am

Black Masquerade


Another shadow slices through the fog. Tall. Too tall to be natural.. a looming, terrifying thing. It falls back, melting into the mist, hollow mouth screaming silent. So quickly she doesn't even need to flinch and slither away. Her lips pulled back over sharp teeth, curling, snarling, smiling? A bizarre mix of the three together. Deranged twist of the mouth on display for another of the night's marionettes.

She arches the bow above her head, slicing through the air in an instantaneous movement, testing to see if there are invisible strings attached to her too. Makes note of the watchers and those who will bear witness with the slide of her eyes sweeping through the room one final time. Crawling over the echoes of humanity that to her are only silhouettes and burning gazes, curling tongue voices and chattering teeth. That incessant clicking grates, rakes like barbed wire against her skin. She grits her teeth until they are on the verge of crack, crumbling out of her mouth in a pool of broken cementum and pulp, exhales.
Focus. And then..

It begins slowly, a temptation of sinuous notes resounding off the bones, an echoing ricochet bounding around the room until it slithers into the ears of those who might hear it. Torturous. Sensual. Lacking the symptoms of a lullaby, this.. This is carnage in C minor, carrion riddled with worms wriggling sumptuously into the body. Captivating and ruinous. And then. And then. It
riiises. Her speed veers into insanity, notes no longer plucked and pulled, but gouged from screaming fingers and shivering strings rather than a mouth that cannot speak. Cannot choke out the sounds.

This, her wailing heart. Her howling refrain. Offering to the devil himself. Her calling. A summoning pitched into the room as she wreaks havoc on the cords and lets lose the hounds of hell, the dogs of war, the beasts of the north wind.
Come. She beckons. Dance.

There is heat here, glistening on her skin, lighting the cool autumn night on fire. She, a banshee weeping blood and vitriol through violin wire. How she hates them. Yet still whispers desperately into the dark. I will find. I will find you. Wherever you are. Her body careens, an explosion of activity detonating there for all to see, feathers ruffling in the breeze her tumultuous swaying. Sanguine splatters decorating the skin, the hair, the marble floors the pettifors and everything in between.

October 27, 2020 12:47 pm

Black Masquerade

Santa Muerte

‘Death comes for us all; even at our birth-- even at our birth, death does but stand aside a little. And every day he looks towards us and muses somewhat to himself whether that day or the next he will draw nigh. It is the law of nature, and the will of God..’

And by all, well, Santa Muerte means her siblings.

She is already there, has been there, watching, waiting for the rest of the brood. Laurel eyes study the crowd, search for her damnable siblings but she is left wanting. Whoever’s idea was to have a Masquerade ball should be drawn and quartered.. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, a Nun in flowing robes glides past with preternatural ability. And dark eyes.

“Well, well..” The words slip softly past painted lips and she begins to move for the first time this night.

A slim figure cuts through the crowd in black cloak and cowl; a crown of multi-coloured roses hovers above a face painted in the likeness of a skull. A nod, a smile, a ‘hello’ or ‘good evening’ here and there, she greets the guests one at a time as she passes. She is the personification of death, after all. As such, in one skeletal painted hand she possesses a globe.. her ‘reach’; in the other Santa Muerte holds a very large, very real, scythe.

No weapons allowed you say?

Maybe for the commoner.

For Santa Muerte, the rules do not apply.

Thank god for folklore and one superstitious bouncer.

Raffle Ticket #31
October 27, 2020 03:32 pm

Black Masquerade

Dr. Frank N Furter

Halloween and the Black Masquerade were definitely one of his favorite times of the year. He dug out a custom he had worn years ago. It was a Halloween classic, in his eyes anyway. First he put on the wig, a poufy brunette one. A large pearl necklace followed. Next, a leather corset, leather fingerless gloves and a pair of very tight, very short, leather shorts with clips hanging from them were squeezed into. And to finish off the clothing portion of the outfit, he slipped on fishnet stockings that clipped to the shorts.

He did his makeup next, white powder covered his face before penciling in dramatic eyebrows. Grey and black eyeshadow covered his eyelids up to those eyebrows. Harsh contour carved out his cheek bones and deep red lipstick filled in his lips.

Finally he puts on some thick, six inch heels that are glittery and throws a long robe over his shoulders. No one would get to see the goods until he was ready.

Arriving at the club, he’s checked, as everyone is for weapons. The only weapon he was carrying tonight was his ability to walk confidently in six inch heels. After he’s cleared, he winks to the guard, tosses his robe to him, and struts onto the dancefloor.

Dr. Frank N Furter grabs random people’s hands and shakes them, greeting them with enthusiastic hellos. He reaches the bar and orders a Blackheart Martini, then asks the bartender, “Have you seen a man...with blonde hair and a tan around?

Raffle Ticket #32
October 27, 2020 05:10 pm

Black Masquerade

The Lieutenant

The Lieutenant sauntered into the venue, the hem of her dress uniform skirt appearing to be slightly shorter than regulation, but only to the trained eye. Dark hose created a sheen to the long legs, all the way to the high heeled pumps which were definitely not regulation. She smoked a cigarette, careful not to drop ashes on the tunic as the bouncer approached her, his eyes on the polished leather holster with her sidearm. With a barely discernible huff, The Lieutenant blow smoke in his face, then unbuckled the belt which rode on her shapely hips, and handed the belt, holster and firearm to the bouncer. He looked at her as if to ask if she carried any more weapons, and she leaned towards him, a long, black painted nail tracing the man's jaw as she whispered something to him that seemed to be suggestive. He smiled, almost leeringly, and passed her into the night club.

Good. The Makarov strapped high on the inside of her thigh was undiscovered and the silencer was in her cigarette case within her black clutch. Promises of sweet nothings to the bouncer had led him to believe he could let her in without further frisking. Of course, by the time he was to collect on that promise, she would have killed her sisters and the inheritance would be hers, and hers alone.

She had practiced removing the gun numerous times while palming the silencer until she could thread it onto the small hand gun and bring it to bear in under three seconds. Finding her sisters was next on her agenda. Luring them to the ladies room, one by one, was after that.

The Lieutenant entered the arena.

Raffle Ticket #33
October 28, 2020 08:15 am

Black Masquerade

Marie Antoinette

The path to redemption is through the flesh and blood of our own...

The cradle of her thoughts faded away from all decipherment, clouding themselves amidst the ebony vapors, retreating to the obscurity of her subconscious. Jade green, crystalline gaze briefly perused over each of the veiled faces as she entered the ball. Lashes tinted like the knifed-wings of a silver butterfly, fluttering with coquettish charm behind her gilded mask. Her dress for the night was a lavish, celestial blue gown, with its bosom-enhancing bodice and a white satin petticoat. Her head crowned by a pouf, a mountainous grave of powdered hair decked with red roses, plumes, black veils, and daisies as a saucy reference to the events that were to transpire tonight.

She moved through the crowd with grace and haughty demeanor, a flirtatious glance here, a chuckle there, almost cruel and discordant in tone. Elevating the charade, while curious eyes searched for her beloved kin, betraying her meticulously veiled nefarious intentions. It is in this congregation of the sublime and truly bizarre, a ghostly image of Santa Muerte drifts across her vision, jarring to the relative pleasantries unfurling around her, that caused a shudder to creep over flesh.

However, she would regain her composure and express nothing but the mirrored welcome of her cold jade eyes. Not menacingly, not any look in particular that could be interpreted as threatening or non-threatening; just unresponsive and chilling to the core. The smile slowly returning to her ruby lips beneath the mask, she started to make her way to the bar, flamboyant as ever, enticing interest and inciting provocation. Eyes again trained upon the nocturnal life of the evening, perception listening to the myriad of conversations carried by the claws of a spirited wind.

Arriving at the bar, her gaze would mockingly glance over the setup as if to consider the options on offer, garnering the attention of the bartender, and from strawberry mouth poured words drenched in salacious honey and dark mischief, "Say, you wouldn't happen to have any cake, would you?"

Raffle Ticket #34
October 28, 2020 07:42 pm
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