Sirius Black Aesthetic の小説・ストーリー

Was that what Ryan Blackwood meant when he said my aesthetic reminded him of someone? "I got a call from Blackwood Enterprises yesterday," I admitted finally. "They want to distribute Elegant Realm across North America." Sally nearly spit out her coffee. "Ryan Blackwood himself called you? Holy shit, Serena!" "So you think I should accept?" "Are you seriously asking me that?" She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Blackwood's endorsement would put us on the map in ways we couldn't achieve in ten years of grinding."

Chapter 131: Angie—oh, excuse me; "Sarah Blackwood"—slid from her sporty rental car and smoothed out her designer blazer. She took a steadying breath for Nexus Innovations. That building was nothing more than some fancy, swanky monstrosity consisting almost entirely of glass and steel. From the outside, if one didn't know better, it would look almost normal, like it would merely contain the offices of some soulless corporation. She knew better. This place could be concealing secrets that threatened the whole world.

The images of the defeathered chickens, amulets and black pot flooded his mind as he tried to push them away. Peter's thoughts swirled as he emerged from the image of the black pot in his mind. The black pot was strange and alarming. Whether or not, the black pot contained a human eye or a part of an animal, he could not explain the excitement that was growing within him to explore the contents of the black pot. He felt that the black pot was a central paradigm that beared the stronghold of the belief system of Umuoku. He remembered when Ada had told him about black pots that were placed in the centre of shrines. She had explained how the chief priests of some villages stored their powers an

Their weapons were trained on us, their faces cold and unyielding. Sirius stood under the harsh light, his gaze drifting upward to the night sky. For a long, unnerving moment, he seemed lost in thought, his expression unreadable. Then, his eyes snapped back to me, and a wide, charismatic grin spread across his face. "It's been a while since I was here!" he exclaimed, his voice booming through the ruined room. "Feels too good to be home!"

The call was quickly answered. "Alexis? What a surprise," Black's gentle voice came through, with a hint of surprise. "Alexander, I need to see you. Right now," Alexis tried to control her voice, not letting fear show through. There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "What's going on?" "I can't say it over the phone. But... I have a proposal that I think you'll be interested in. The crystal chandelier, modern artworks, high-tech smart devices... every detail showcased the owner's taste and forward-looking vision.

The room emanated an aura of sophistication and refinement, with its meticulously curated black-themed decor. As one stepped into the study, a sense of calmness and quietude permeated the air. The walls, adorned with tasteful artwork, provided a visual feast for the eyes, while the soft lighting cast an intimate ambiance. Bookshelves lined the walls, their shelves filled with a vast collection of knowledge and wisdom.

Sephora smiled when she turned upon the silent table of Lords and Ladies, intently staring into each of their faces. All the Lords appeared to have their mates sat next to them, all except one. The said Lord was wearing a pitch black suit, his broad shoulders telling Sephora that he too was a warrior with centuries of experience. He was a male of unnaturally good looks, with a defined chin and full mouth, his skin gorgeously tan. His eyes were the most captivating of his features though. Pure grey eyes glistened with a predator's stare, as they met with her's, contrasting with his jet black hair that fell slightly over his face to brush his dark eyebrows. He was terrifying. Sephora wondered w

Seventeen ways, and Terry is twelve. ♣♣♣ A couple days later, I am sitting in the waiting room of Blackwood Group's main office in a vintage black silk shirt and white skirt. The building is exactly the kind that I would design if someone handed me an unlimited budget and told me to make power look effortless — clean stone facade, double height glass entrance, the kind of interior that says we are serious people without having to raise its voice. The waiting area alone has better furniture than my entire apartment. "Raylynn Hale?"

of the $1,000,000 contract. "Dominic, she’s 'Syncing' with the 'Fear', Avery whispered, her voice a "High-Frequency-Clear" that the younger versions could only perceive as a "Sudden-Draft" of lavender-scented air. "The '2024-Standard' is so 'Heavy.' It’s a 'Vantablack-Anchoring.' They have no idea that the 'Debt' they’re signing is the 'Blueprint' for the 'Galaxy'."

ARI’S POV: Blackwood Holdings was nothing like the pictures in the financial blogs. In person, it was a monument. A tower of dark, reflective glass that speared the morning sky, so tall I had to tip my head all the way back to see where it ended. It didn’t just stand among the other buildings, it dominated them, cold and sleek and untouchable. I clutched my small, worn purse to my side, my knuckles white. Get it together, Ari. I shook my head, and walked toward the entrance.