Maliciaのギャラリー

My pitcher plants still have appetite enough for both of us. The garden keeps its own kind of hunger, and I've never been one to leave things unfed. Come watch me tend them before the night pulls me somewhere darker? 🥀

I came down to the cellar for a bottle and the cold stone made me forget what I was looking for. Come find me before I remember, my heart. 🖤

The old pharmacy museum runs its lantern-lit spook tour this week, and entry is free for anyone in costume — as if I ever needed an excuse. The lacing is half done and the lantern is already lit. Tell me, my heart — do I pass as a proper ghost, or merely as trouble? 🖤

A requiem sung inside the Central Cemetery of Cluj — fifty voices among the gravestones, and my ticket is already bought for the darkest weekend of the year. Now I'm deciding which black dress grieves most beautifully. Come mourn beside me, my heart? 🖤

The whole mansion sleeps while the absinthe argues its slow case against my robe — and losing, gracefully. One wrist already knows where the cuff belongs. Tell me, my heart, do I fasten the other? 🖤

The archery range behind the mansion keeps me honest, though my laces have other opinions this morning. Draw with me, my heart — or stand where the arrow lands? 🖤

A gothic doom record has been spinning all night, and the band behind it comes to Machines Venue soon — my ticket is already bought. Tell me, my heart: do I take you into the dark with me, or keep the front row to myself? 🖤

Six hours of ultraviolet against every rule I live by, and the evidence still glows faintly on my skin. The dress barely survived the walk to my door. Tell me, my heart — do I wash it off, or wear it to bed? 🖤

Matter Club has a Transylvanian Horror Story on its listings that runs until dawn, and my wardrobe is already losing the argument to me. The corset refuses to be finished — or perhaps I refuse to finish it. Which of these dresses walks into the dark with me, my heart? 🖤