#e: awaken

[the-music-maniac]

THE V O I C E S

I'm unhealthily obsessed with Zoro's earrings, so unsurprisingly, my demons popped out of the ether at 2 am, and told me to draw him in body jewelry

My headcanon is that Nami bought the jewelry piece for Zoro bc she's a good wing woman

Bonus:

[alphaclxwn]

eva is the best fr fr, just look at her! she’s adorable

[generic-sonic-fan]

Not to be mega autistic about Omega again (occupational hazard of following my blog) but-

I really love how this short respects Omega's autonomy. Rouge says that she "convinced Omega to be [her] backup" and that just means so much to me.

Omega is a loose cannon! A free agent!! He has his own goals and he pursues them on his own!!! I feel like a lot of previous canon and some fanon treat him as way too compliant/incompetent to act on his own so this is SUCH an amazing detail to me

[thirteen-31]

@thirteen-31 // film, astrology, inner healing ✨

[w1ldspace]

star wars x pokémon crossover ⁉️

[soulsty]

I am slowly losing my grasp on reality

[peach-princess-snz]

Do you like:

- self-centered flamboyant models who happen to be possessed by demons? - sad golden retriever men? - watching strong characters break down to their most vulnerable state? (of course they get comforted... later)

Boy do I have a snzfic for you! It is more of a snovel that will be posted in parts. Some parts may not have snz but they make up for it with whump or both at the same time... (I'm totally not torturing my OCs for the fun of it wdym)

E+M - Part 1.

Tags: whump, sneezing, colds, character introduction, m+m. (mini)chapters I and II - short character intro. Snz starts in ch. III

I. 

Eyes. Staring at him from every direction, surrounding him, burning him with red flames flickering in their pupils. He tries to get up, but his body feels numb. There's a lifeless body of a young man next to him. Scorched clothes expose delicate white skin, fractured like cracked porcelain by deep wounds oozing with liquid gold, overflowing, spilling on the concrete and solidifying on contact. Silver steam is rising from the gold liquid, and the man's skin is getting blistered around it. He wants to help the man, but he can't move. The eyes around him tremble and move closer, trapping him inside their circle. The dead man slowly opens his eyes, and the blinding golden light explodes from underneath his cracked eyelids, incinerating everything in sight with a deafening roar of the flames. 

Ethan jolted awake with a sharp gasp. He was covered in cold sweat, and his heart was pounding in his chest. The fire still roared in his ears, drowning out the shrieking sound of his own voice. Ethan closed his eyes and saw flashes of red and yellow, as if he was still inside the raging flames. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in his small bedroom, surrounded by comforting darkness and familiar silhouettes of his furniture.

II.

"Good morning, how are you doing today?" Ethan entered a brightly-lit room and tugged on his teal scrub, straightening the wrinkles. "Hope you didn't have to wait too long.”

"Good morning, Dr. Nichols!"

A young man jumped up from his chair on the other side of the room and waltzed toward Ethan, casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, his heels clicking against the floor with a loud staccato. 

"Pleasure to meet you. You can call me Marcel.” He shot Ethan a dazzling smile and extended a hand toward him. Ethan reluctantly accepted the invitation, startled by such a warm welcome to his own examination room. 

"So, how is she doing?" Ethan said, approaching a steel table in the middle of the room with a small calico cat sitting on top of it. He gently stroked the cat's hair, and she purred with delight. The cat looked at Ethan with its amber eyes and meowed in a raspy voice, as if asking what he was doing there.

"She's a good cat," Marcel leaned against the examination table, which slightly moved under his weight, making the cat jerk backwards clumsily, her paws sliding on the sleek surface. 

"I would ask you to not do that, please."

Marcel gave Ethan a surprised look but complied with the request. Ethan scratched the cat behind her ears, noting that her hair was a little brittle, and her small body felt frail as she slumped into his hands. 

"How old is Cat?" he asked, checking the notes left by the nurse. 

Marcel twisted a lock of his long black hair, pondering the question. "About 10 years? Maybe 15?"

"You don't know?"

"Oh, of course not! I just found her."

"You just found her?"

"Well," Marcel chuckled, looking at Ethan through half-closed eyelids, "not right this moment, but I found her on the street, and she followed me, so I took her home. It was 5 years ago, I think?.."

The cat looked like she was very old, likely older than 15 years, and Ethan felt a knot in his stomach as she clumsily pushed her head into his hands, purring. 

"Has she been eating lately? Have you checked her litter box? Does she have her vaccinations?"

"Oh, she's not a trouble at all," Marcel clasped his hands together, intertwining his long fingers, adorned with gold rings. "Do you have cats, Dr. Nichols?"

Ethan looked up from the notes and met Marcel's gaze, full of genuine curiosity. Ethan turned back to the nurse's notes. 

"Err, no. I don't." Ethan hesitated, considering if he should provide an explanation, but Marcel seemed satisfied with the short answer. 

"How has she been doing lately? Any changes in her habits? Food? Litter box?" Ethan repeated. 

"She has stopped eating two days ago, and the housekeeper has been complaining that she'd been making messes. What do you make of it?"

The calico cat let out another raspy meow, looking at Ethan with her big glossy eyes. Ethan felt his chest compress, squeezing the air out of his lungs. He didn't reply to Marcel and proceeded to check the cat's vitals. Her body felt limp, and no matter how hard Ethan tried to look, he couldn't find what he was searching for. Cat was dying of old age. Ethan looked at the chart left by the nurse in hopes of finding contradictions to his prognosis. 

"What was her name, you said?"

"Well, she's umm… cat," Marcel replied, yawning. 

Ethan sighed and petted Cat once again. What he was about to do was never easy, and he dreaded the feeling of helplessness that overcame him every time he had to deliver the news. 

“Marcel, your cat is dying. I'm sorry... There's nothing you could have done, she's had a long life. I... I'm so sorry."

Marcel stared at him, dumbfounded. He stopped playing with his jewellery and blinked slowly, as if he was processing Ethan's words. 

"I see," he finally said in a flat voice. "Thank you, Dr. Nichols. Do I pay at the front desk?"

Now it was Ethan's turn to be stunned. "Do you want to say goodbye to her? There's nothing I can do, but she... she will appreciate you being there in her final moments. We can make it quick, she won't feel pain."

"Oh, no worries at all. Dr. Nichols, thank you so much for taking care of her! It's been a pleasure." Marcel gave him a look that was supposed to indicate sincere gratitude. 

"Are you just going to leave her here?" the words came out louder than Ethan intended, and he exhaled sharply. 

"She is dying, right?" Marcel cocked his head. He was already at the door, holding onto the door handle. His gold jewellery jingled, and his heels clicked rhythmically as he stopped to reply.

Ethan nodded. 

"Have a wonderful day, Dr. Nichols!~"

Ethan could hear Marcel happily greeting Donna, the receptionist at the clinic. His voice was cheerful, and Ethan heard him laugh like he just got a latte on the house and was playfully denying the gift. 

Ethan scooped the cat into his arms and pressed her to his chest, trying to calm his own pounding heart.

III

"Goood morning, Dr. Nichols!~ How are you doing today?"

Ethan was having a good day until he heard a familiar voice. Marcel was sitting in the examination room with his legs crossed and his arms resting on the armrests with a hedonistic grace. He was wearing a black mock-turtleneck with a small heart-shaped opening on his chest, black leather boots with gold spikes, and black leather pants. He was covered in gold hoops and chains from head to toe. His black hair was gathered in a loose high ponytail, and his cheeks were blushed. Marcel brushed the side of his hand under his nose and sniffled, then leaned back into the chair. 

"Good morning," Ethan sighed, feeling his neck muscles tensing up in a painful knot. He thought he was done with this man two days ago. What did he want now? 

"I hope my visit is not too much trouble. I can only imagine how busy your schedule must be." Marcel brought his hand back to his nose and rubbed it vigorously. He noticed Ethan's amused look and continued, "Ah, do you like my outfit? I just returned from a photoshoot with T.A.H.R."

And picked up another cat on your way, Ethan thought.

"How did you know?"

Shit! I didn't mean to say it out loud!

Marcel rubbed his nose again, this time in a vertical motion from the bridge to the tip, which was getting a pink hue similar to his cheeks.

"Are you feeling alright? Should I open the window? There was a puppy before you, if that's bothering you."

"Ah, no worries, it is quite alright. I'm just coming down with a cold," Marcel said nonchalantly, as if he was declining a complimentary mint at a restaurant. 

"Are you sure you should be here right now?" Getting sick was the last thing Ethan needed in his already exhausting week. 

"Of course, Dr. Nichols!" Marcel said with a spark in his eyes. "I insist that you have a look at this little guy. I won't be in your way." He got up and pushed his chair to the other end of the room, then sat down, leaned back, and intertwined his fingers. 

Ethan contemplated ordering the man to wear a mask or go home, but then he noticed a little ball of fluff trying to get off the examination table all by himself. Marcel coughed into his hand, oblivious. Ethan rushed to the table and caught the fluff just in time as the kitten's claws scratched against the metal in a failed attempt to grab the edge. Ethan shot a glance at Marcel who was staring at the ceiling in a daze, his lips, covered in glittery lip gloss, slightly parted. Ethan was about to say something he was going to regret later, when Marcel's eyes snapped shut, and he jolted forward with a loud “Eh-TSCHHoo!!”, barely muffled into the crook of his arm. Marcel shook his head. "Wooo, bless me!"

No manners, Ethan thought to himself. 

"My apologies," Marcel added with a demure smile, looking into Ethan's eyes. He reached up and pulled on his hair tie, letting his long hair spill down in soft waves. He brought the hair tie up to his lips and bit down on it. As Ethan held the small fluff ball in his arms, Marcel proceeded to comb through his hair with his fingers. Gold jewellery shimmered in the dark waterfall cascading down his shoulders.

He was handsome, Ethan thought. And young, must be in his early twenties. A spoiled brat of rich parents toying with animals like they were his property. 

Still holding the hair tie in his teeth, his hands up in the air gripping his hair, Marcel absent-mindedly looked up. His upper lip curled as his nose twitched, and he inhaled sharply through his teeth.

“hh… hih… Ah-TSCHHew! Hh… Ah-tkSCHHew!”

His head snapped down, launching the hair tie onto the floor and spraying tiny glistening droplets all over his black turtleneck and leather pants. Marcel blinked rapidly, not letting go of his hair, then let out a small sigh. He reached down for the hair tie and tucked his hair in a high ponytail, then tugged on the strands to loosen them up. He brought a hand up to his nose and dabbed his nostrils on his index finger.

"Excuse me! Please don't mind me." Marcel exclaimed.

Ethan disregarded his statement and turned his attention to the kitten. He placed the ball of fluff onto the examination table and checked his mobility and physical condition. The kitten was completely healthy, but Ethan didn't trust Marcel to take care of him. 

"Hh… Hup-TSHHhew!.. Excuse me! I, uh... huh... Hh-aTSCHew!!.. Phew..." Marcel slumped against the back of his chair and pressed the back of his hand against the reddened tip of his nose. He sniffled wetly. 

"Do you need a tissue?" Ethan grabbed a box of CleanX from the counter and held it in his hand. 

"Thank you, Dr. Nichols! How considerate of you!" Marcel's heels clacked on the tiled floor, and he graciously accepted the offer, clasping the entire box in his fingers. Ethan noticed that his nails were painted black. 

Marcel returned to his chair, scooting it closer to Ethan and the kitten. He settled the CleanX on his lap, pulled out a tissue, and blew his nose with a squelching sound. He folded the tissue and delicately dabbed it to his reddened nostrils. Ethan proceeded with his usual monologue: the kitten is healthy, here's his vaccination schedule, you'll need to get him microchipped and registered... 

"Have you taken care of kittens before?" Ethan asked, concluding his speech. 

Marcel put the soaked tissue down and leaned forward toward Ethan. "To be completely honest, no. This is my first time. But when I saw this little baby on my way home, I just knew it. It needed me, and I needed him. You know, Dr. Nichols, I never understood people who gifted pets or treated them like –"

"Kittens require a lot of attention and care, Marcel. Do you have the time necessary to provide it?"

Marcel thought for a second, then his eyes took on a relaxed expression and he smiled. He opened his mouth to reply, but Ethan suddenly realized that he didn't want to hear whatever the man had to say. Not after he left his cat to die and waltzed off without a care in the world. And now he wanted to take care of a kitten?!

"Did you at least name him?"

"I –"

"Why did you take him with you?" Ethan took a step forward and was now towering above Marcel. His voice was calm, but his eyes were glowing with quiet rage.

Marcel didn't reply. His face went blank, and he looked at his clasped hands. Ethan followed his gaze and saw that Marcel’s hands were shaking, and his palms were covered in small pink blisters that looked like a rash. Marcel slowly raised his head, looking past Ethan in the distance. His eyes lost their glow and seemed to darken, his cheeks were flushed, and his reddened nostrils glistened with mucus. He looked like a sick dog, and Ethan suddenly felt bad for how he treated this man who was obviously much younger than him and didn't know any better. Marcel blinked a couple of times, as if trying to wake himself up. 

"I apologize, doctor! I must have spaced out," he chuckled, and his eyes went back to their familiar caramel color. "Thank you so much for having a look at my little friend here! We shall be going now. I would hate to take up any more of your time."

Marcel got up and smiled at Ethan. His face looked bright again, except for a slight blush on the tip of his nose. Ethan felt as if Marcel's hands twitched as he took the kitten, but Ethan couldn't say for sure. 

"I hope you have a wonderful day, Dr. Nichols!" Marcel sniffled again and exited the room, holding the kitten in one hand and the CleanX in the other.

[viktoriathewitch]

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ witchy things I did that worked •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

(se você fala portugues BR, sinta-se livre para enviar DM ou pedir tradução de um post. boa parte vai estar em inglês, para facilitar minha vida e atingir mais pessoas.)

-`🕯 INTRO 🕯´-

Although I'm part of the spiritual community, I'm still quite skeptical whenever I see a spell or ritual, be it online or in books, asking myself if it'd work or not. Wondering if the source of such spells and witchy things were actually being honest. So! Today, I'll be sharing some witchy things (as not all of them were spells IMO) that actually worked! Still, I want to clarify that these things worked for >me< and I'll just be sharing my experience with the things I did that worked best. Feel free to also share yours in the comments!

-`🕯 WITCHY THINGS THAT WORKED 🕯´-

❅ herbal baths and magik baths in general, is some of my favorite things to do. Well, I actually love showers and they are such a scared moment to me, and whenever I need some deep energetical cleansing and boost, they always work for me. However, I want to point out that I wash my hair after finishing the herbal bath. So, I recommend doing this on wash hair days. My favorite combo is thick salt and rosemary. How I did it: ⁍ 1-step, prep: cleansed and energized the materials. ⁍ 2-step, make rosemary water: I didn't use a specific amount, but I'd say 4-5 cups of water and half a hand of rosemary is enough. Let it boil for about 5 minutes and then let it sit for 15 minutes with a cloth on top. ⁍ 3-step, thick salt scrubbing: the scrubbing should be done from your neck to your feet. Don't scrub too hard, you don't want to hurt yourself. Visualize negative energy or the power something/someone has over you leaving your body. DO NOT SCRUB YOUR GENITALIA WITH IT OKAY? ⁍ 4-step, rosemary shower: after the rosemary water has cooled down a bit, start to pour the water over you from your head. Now, the actual rosemary won't go with the water, so you can pick it up with your hands and scrub your body gently with it. DO NOT SCRUB OR WASH YOUR GENITALIA WITH THIS WATER. ⁍ 5-step, clean your bathroom: chances are you've made a mess! ❅ banishing candles is something that I did when I was on low energy but needed banishing ASAP. I also didn't have all the ingredients I wished for, but it worked with the ones I had! I made a total of 2 candles, and I placed one in the living room and the other in my bedroom. How I did it: ⁍ ingredients and tools: black candle, red candle, dried pieces of garlic, corn hair, thick salt, essential oil (I used lavender cause it was the only one I had lol), mortar and pestle, paper (to protect my table from the wax), candle holder (further explanation about candle holder later), and fire. ⁍ 1-step, prep: cleansed and energized the material. ⁍ 2-step, candle dressing: I applied the essential oil to the black candle, then started to dress it with the garlic pieces. I recommend doing this slowly and dressing each "side" of the candle instead of the whole candle. With the help of the red candle, I lit it up and used its drop of wax to hold the garlic in place. ⁍ 3-step, protection ring: with corn hair and thick salt, I created a protection ring so that the candle would be free to do its job without interference from what I was banishing. I placed it within the candle holder, which was a chamberstick type. Now, I want to say that the protection ring needs to be around the candle, with a chamberstick, it was quite efficient since I could carry the candle and the protection ring mutually without getting the house dirty. ⁍ 4-step, banishing: lit it up and allowed it to burn fully. ❅ warding is one of the best ways to protect your house or personal space. It always works for me, even when done in the astral (I've done this once but it was not intentional, don't ask me how I did it because I have minimal power over my astral/mental projections still). Basically, gather up energy and release it with the most amount of anger possible, like a dog showing its teeth to an enemy, while setting out the intention of only your guides, desired spirits, and positive energy entering. Do this in each room of the house if you wish to ward the whole house, or just in your bedroom if that's better. ❅ repelling unwanted energetic interactions through anger. Well, this one is a bit similar to warding, but it's done when the so said energy or spirit is already there. I've done this in the astral too, it worked thankfully lol. Anyway, it's similar to warding, but now you have a target to which you'll direct the aggressive energy you're gathering. Together with this energy, you'll say words like "get out of here" like, screaming, either out loud or in your head. You'll hunt down the "problem" if needed. My biggest tip is to go full red mode.

-`🕯 CONCLUSION 🕯´-

So, this was it! I hope you guys enjoyed it and that I've brought to y'all something new haha. As you can see, I haven't done much lol, I don't like to venture myself too much, and spells aren't my "it" activity either. Still, even though I've done more things, these were the ones I had the best results. Either way, see you soon <3

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

“Why am I a fucking dragon?!” Wyvern. Technically he was a wyvern, what with the wings-as-arms and all. “Shut up, Simmons,” he mumbled.

THIS FIC has been rent free in my brain and I realized upon my reread today,, i have the power to draw So,,, dragon(wyvern) Grif fuck yes

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

Restless

Imogen can't concentrate.

(standard procedure for up to a couple weeks ago, now it wears a different guise.)

She fidgets, sits with her legs crossed on her bedroll, backpack in her lap, removes, itemises, arranges its contents, huffs stray hairs out of her face, hands still twitchy, mind still scrambled, organises it all again. Repeats. 

It's early, the fact given away by the low-lying sun and crisp smell on the air that has not yet been burned away by its sustained and blistering presence. 

The blisters on her ankles, the friction of leather that is still not fully broken in. Imogen delays in pulling on and lacing up her boots, calves restless but exhausted, thrumming if they remain still too long (too long being only a moment).

She falls back heavily onto the bedroll. 

Overhead, in the weave of vines and branches, birds sing. They're mocking her, surely, the awkward and bound to the ground sack of flesh and fat and bones that she is, hair frizzed and sticky from the humidity, her inner thigh chaffed and perspiring where the contact of her dagger's harness coils around it like a constricting snake.

She loosens it a few notches

The pathetic and inconsistent touch of it frustrates her more, so she buckles it tight like a tourniquet. 

She exhales, deflates, heavy as she is, runs the back of her forearm over her brow, spreading the salt and sweat, breathes in, feels the connective tissue holding together all of her joints, exhales, arm to ground, along with every other limb, the back of her knees, her spine, her shoulders (there's a rock digging into one through the mat, did she sleep on that last night?), her neck, her ass, wishes they were all gelatin, that she could become one with the floor and not collide with every edge and corner and texture of it, stop being so reactive. 

She inhales, skin pulling away, wishing it would continue, peel, lift, blanket, canopy (closer than the trees), shade, but it would drip with blood, hot and sizzling as it rained back onto her exposed bones. 

Shadow, the dark tatters, the veil. Molasses of ichor. Dull, hazy, sharp, thorns. Don't touch, don't approach. Space. Wail, scream, chorus, silence. That would chase the birds away, feathers dislodged from sudden movement re-lodged into black tar, carried off, away, down sluggish stream, no contact. Barbed like a briar.

The thread of the bed roll is itchy, the weave of it too thick and open, rough spun from fibrous burlap, it splinters bare skin where it makes contact, nape of her neck, backs of her forearms, thighs, knees, and calves. 

Delicate, cool, billowing lace that accommodated to the pads of Imogen's fingers, to her palm, fractured by magic, calloused and freshly wounded, it dulled even the rows of needle teeth beneath. Imogen imagines it her bedsheets, the ground would not matter - could be rivers of lava jutted by shattered glass, it would not matter, sure, cool billowing lace, Imogen would sleep well. 

Easier to tell now, how restless her hands are. They pluck at the gauzy linen that makes her dress, the more rigid weave of her waistcoat, following stitching as if it were pathways, movement, roads to get her somewhere, them, skin to skin contact barriered like the rock digging into her shoulder. Her touch meanders to her chest, unintentional, she swears, in promise and obscenity, a winding path with sides towered by hedges and trees that block the horizon, a shock carried from the point of touch to manifest as an ache between her legs and a weightless haze in her head, body rolling, shoulders leaving the mat, leaving the rock that digs, a breath to a sigh to a gravelly moan, sends a bird or two scattering away, a leaf or two falling behind them. 

Fuckin' birds. Relax. More touch. Touch is good? Barbed. Thorns. Restraint. Maybe she should grow her nails, maybe then the touch won't feel her own. Laudna - fuck, the name gets a reaction from her again, the jolt in her core as she feels the heat pool at the surface of her face, her neck, her chest, crimson damming, damning, acid rising to her throat carried by the guilt of it. 

She kicks and squirms, side of a fist like hammer to nail on the bedroll beside her, other covering her face from the shame of it, it being the burn, the rolling simmer, the violent boil of want and guilt and acid and sting and she is so restless, boiling over, she can't concentrate, the contact of the ground and the fabrics and the atmosphere all feels wrong, scalding, now she knows what to compare it to, how it could feel, what she could be touching. 

Could be death calling, alluring, maybe, how long she flirted with it. Cold with head empty, sounded nice, still does, though the delivery and means maybe different now. A face to an end, ends her, finishes, acid in her throat again, hand bunching the rough fabric under her hips. 

It moves of its own accord to her thigh, takes a fistful of cuff and flesh and she sobs, eyes scrunching shut so tightly that she starts to see colours in the dark, blotches of crimson in a grey dream, her body in the butcher's cart. 

Dreamlike, hazy, drunk (this must be how it feels), she moves without thought, groping herself through the crotch of her shorts, writhing, the floor is too hot against her back, sweat gathering at her hairline and salt beading down into her eyes, again, breath short, short, when did it get so shallow, dizzy. How long could she hold it (hold herself), heat, radiating into the cup of her hand, squirming, a worm under boot, squashed before it gets to dine on the corpse. She pushes firmer against herself, shudders, the feel of the floor leaving, rolls her hips onto the press of her fingers, barriered, dulled, not enough, as they fumble, clutch at the shorts and wrangle the inseam of them in frantic pulls against uncomfortably undulating heat, heat, damp forced through from the close contact onto the pads of her fingers and Gods she's gonna have to prestidigitate that, what the hells is she doing, Laudna could return from her morning forage or whatever it is any moment and

fuck the thought doesn't quell the need at all, her hips spasming and knees shaking as she holds them suspended and trembling, working herself up, frantic, frantic and desperate. How did she get here? she followed the woman at the market, the woman followed the yellow bird, the birdsong silenced for pathetic needy moans, her hips raised so high her shoulders are pushed further into the cut of the offensive rock, princesses and mattresses and beans or whatever that fairytale was Laudna had mentioned about ladies and their proper behaviour. 

Proper, right, she should stop, get it over with, fumbles with the fastening of her shorts, hand making its way beneath fabric before it's fully undone, now registering coarse curls, then slicked, heat, heat, heat, hot, wet, eager, soaked, soft, the glide of her intensity, betrayal, soaking. fuck. Touch is not enough, hers, fuck. Not right, the feel of callouses and scars and heat and a barely registrable thrum shit what happens if she gets away from herself, gets too excited. magic fried uncontrollable she is out of control fuck the heat of the bedroll on her back and the push of the rock imbedding imbedded scars wrapping tangled suffocating sinew silvered skin nightmares burden and guilt guilt guilt storming-

Imogen rolls over onto her front, the rock through the bedroll pushing into her chest, against her sternum, aiding to evacuate the bile that has been suspended in her oesophagus but the guilt won't leave her thighs slicked and hot and tacky and uncomfortable and the chaffe of the itchy fabric of the mat burning them, restless, as she removes her fingers from between her legs, wipes the evidence of a pathetic and failed and just and just wrong attempt onto her shorts, prestidigitates it all clean as if she can wash herself of her impurities and intentions, dares to think of the occasions the purple glow has evaporated the rain from Laudna's clothes and skin, now a selfish act, was then too, maybe, always selfish. 

[endlessthoughtsofafangirl]

#area introvert getting startled by an extrovert

[generic-sonic-fan]

So sad that Shadow didn't respect Omega's "dibs". . .

[securityholograms]

i've cracked the code on how my favorite moritz portrayals are played. JGJ made the role, eyebrow-acted his heart out and in that unintentionally created a staple that now serves as the line between a "yes moritz!!!" and a "hmmm maybe not moritz"

[onyxedskies]

genuinely fucking insane to me that ophelia and soleil use odin and laslows crystals in the heirs of fate dlc and it's just????? not addressed?????? at all???????? like you'd think that would be a thing you would want to discuss??????????

[animatormentata]

Un giorno mi è stato chiesto:

"Son.. tu che sei così spirituale,cosa sono le fiamme gemelle? Come posso riconoscere la mia?”

Al che io rispondo:

“Benvenuta nella relazione più dolorosa, sfidante, profonda, brutalmente sincera che esista.

Immagina di trovarti di fronte il tuo perfetto specchio che riflette esattamente ogni tua cazzo di ferita, ombra, trauma irrisolto,facendoteli rivivere passo passo, ancora e ancora.

Ora immagina di innamorartene perdutamente. Immagina di condividerci la stessa Anima. Non importa cosa accade tra voi, non importa quanto tempo passa, non importa quello che fai, non importa quello che vuoi, non esiste nessun modo per interrompere questa connessione.

Ciclicamente e costantemente sei bombardato di segni e sincronicità che ti ricordano questa connessione.

Preparati a restare incastrato in quello che mi piace chiamare il loop dell'infinito ritorno, che dura anni. Prima o poi, uno dei due, o entrambi, a fasi alterne ritornano. Nonostante tutto. Tornano sempre destabilizzando completamente le rispettive vite.

Immagina di intraprendere una conversazione a Cuore Aperto con quelle parti di te che rifiuti, non accetti e reprimi. Adesso immagina che queste parti ti parlino attraverso la tua Fiamma. Immagina di non noter mentire, immagina di essere costretta a sentire cosa queste parti ti vogliono comunicare.

Immagina che questa connessione sia la chiave di accesso affinché tu possa sperimentare l'Amore Incondizionato. L'amore senza condizioni. Aldilà delle ingiustizie, dei tradimenti, dei rifiuti, degli abbondoni, delle umiliazioni..

Immaginate che una sola persona vi faccia attraversare tutte queste ferite, e nonostante tutto, continuare ad amarla, perché piano piano iniziate a realizzare che non esiste nessun altro al di fuori di voi, che la separazione è un'illusione e che tutto di te sta solo chidendo Amore.”

[cookiesrunaus-whitelily]

Hello, I hope you have an lovely day, okay for some questions (Early Awakening) I want to know if it’s possible that White Lily did successfully escape without her being noticed [with some help some cookies], what are the course of events will happen to both Lily and an cookie(any cookie)

Did Lily rebel at them one time? If so what happened? Do they celebrate something in different kingdom related to lily?

is there a time where White Lily is happy? What is the event?

Okay, but i will ask something about the Little Demon

What are the Little Demons do to White Lily’s gift before she receives?

Do White Lily knows what are they all doing?

(I’m so sorry for som many questions)

(Early Awakening)

If Lily were to escape, she would have to go as far away as possible and as fast as possible, for as soon as the beasts found out she was gone, they would look for her.

And if she finds her and they learn that someone has helped her.

Execution will be the fate they will most desire.

and about the rebellion….

Lily had a moment with everyone, when she had had enough of being a toy and was already upset.

The “most serious” was with Cheese, she screamed at her, claiming that they had taken everything from her, also claiming that because of those she calls “lovers”, one of her children was missing, she kept screaming until Cheese shut her up ….. slapping her.

Cheese apologized repeatedly to her, the others were angry when they found out, but they decided not to fight among themselves because of that.

White Lily was very affected by the slap, Vanilla assured her that it would not happen again and that no one would do it, but she no longer knows whether to trust.

Celebrations vary greatly.

She doesn't like to participate in them unless she is forced to, but she always makes exceptions for her children's birthdays and even for her lovers, although of course, her parties contain a lot of juice and that always makes them behave very affectionate, too much, luckily it never goes further than kisses, French kisses and if she is not lucky …. she will end up most of the night awake.

She is happy if she can be near her children or when she can get her lovers off her back for a while, there are even times when they act like they used to, that makes her happy, ….. but it doesn't last long.

(Little Demon)

Well, what they do depends on what the gift or invitation is.

For example, if it's a flowers, they throw them out the window, if it's a box of chocolates, they eat them or hide them in their backpack and if it's an invitation to something, they tear them up and use them as crafts.

Lily doesn't know what they do with it, she only knows that they are the ones who pick up the mail when it arrives, but many times when her friends tell her that they sent an invitation or gift, the kids say that they haven't seen it or that they ate it by mistake.

She believes them, because how can she not believe those adorable little faces?