#just read the tags and warnings

[chocolate-cringymuffin]

Art for "Smoke" by @orangepanic

Art Title: A new beginning.

Fandom: Legend of Korra.

Warnings: Violence/captivity/torture/psychological torture/canonical character death/suicidal thoughts/suicide attempt.

Comments: This is specifically inspired by the chapter called "a new beginning" almost at the end of it. I struggled to imagine a proper attire so I used a discarded concept of clothes for Asami from the art book and for Iroh I tried to use something discreet yet practical and comfortable, so I went for a coat. They are dancing in this scene.

@wipbigbang

[skrimbloz]

THE QUIET ONE ☠️🕸️

I AM SO PROUD OF THIS AHHHHHHH

I decided I wanted to have a go at using procreate’s symmetry tool and it was SO fun

Her silhouette is meant to look like a spider with her headband being the fangs and hair strands being the legs!! I also think it looks like a heart too which is pretty neat :D

This took me AGESSS because I kept changing the colour pallette and background, I love how it turned out though and the only thing I would change is that it’s kinda hard to see her bowing pose bc of all the dark colours 😭😭

I LOVE associating spiders with Harumi which is pretty ironic considering i’m arachnophobic 💀

I don’t think it’s used that much in the show other than the like spider they used to bug the bounty but I have chosen to RUN with it

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

with Luo Qingyang and Lou Binghe having the same last name I got start thinking of an au: like what if lbh was her little brother

tho what's funnier lbh in the mdzs universe or that means tlj is lou qingyangs dad in that au

I wanted to give this a genuine answer but I kept getting distracted by Lou Binghe...so...yeah.

[dendroaspis-viridis]

I'm begging you, BioWare... Learn from the mistakes of Baldur's Gates past...

[zorosdimples]

UNDER HIS THUMB ꒰ uraume x reader x sukuna ꒱

minors and blank/ageless blogs do not interact—i will block you. cw: suggestive content. nonconsensual nudity. dubious touching. brief descriptions of cannibalism and violence. suicide mention. reader is referred to as “bride” and “wife.” reader has breasts. wc: 1053. notes: uraume ily—please ditch shitkuna for me <3 (based on this idea)

A fire blazes in the yawning hearth, bathing your bedchamber in a warm titian. The shadows of flames leap and dance across the cragged stone walls—a solar flare—a cosmic spectacle. Logs and branches resembling human bones sputter and spark, crackling in your ears. You shift in your seat. 

The diaphanous veil remains pinned to your crown as Uraume’s fingers move deftly through your locks, the sweeping gossamer that brushes your ankles now pooling on the floor. They unravel the intricate updo they crafted for the ceremony, your hair a glowing halo in the firelight, head bowed in gentle subservience. The pins that bite at your scalp are crusted in blood; the sharp pain has long-since softened into a dull throb.

“I hate him,” you announce. 

(It’s how you cope with your precarious situation: burying your fears beneath carefully woven layers of disdain.) 

Barren aside from a bed, a wardrobe, and an armchair, your threadbare accommodations are as cozy as a dungeon. No torch, tapestry, or looking glass adorns the walls. Your companion’s expression is hidden as they continue their work atop your head.

Uraume chastises you after a few beats, affectation frigid as ice. “You shouldn’t speak of your husband in such a manner.” 

You snort. This one-sided union will only further scar the ugly face of matrimony; looking upon your captor with respect or affection is as likely as you kissing the cheek of your slain mother a final time. “My ‘husband’ for all of ten minutes.”

“And still your husband, nonetheless.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you snap. 

Uraume pushes you to your feet and fluffs the veil with a hum. They circle you, appraising your body—the flimsy, silken robe that ripples across your curves hides nothing from their piercing stare—then, for what must be the fifth time, they adjust the knot that holds the garment together. When their eyes meet yours, you find yourself falling for the ruse, plucking fresh buds from a field of fuchsia.

How you wish their gaze held more than cool indifference.

Ever perceptive, they reach out to gingerly tuck a wayward strand behind your ear; if you close your eyes and still your heaving chest, you can pretend that it’s an intimate gesture—the touch of a lover. “Rarely do we have a say in our own fates,” Uraume muses. 

Fidgeting with your fingers, you quell the urge to embrace your attendant. (It’s a disgraceful thought for a newlywed. But you can’t spool in the words that unfurl from your lips, the edges raw, frayed with longing.)

“I would have taken my life if it hadn’t been for you, Uraume. I can’t stand him.” 

“Master Sukuna would never allow you to harm yourself.” 

“Tch—that vile brute cares little for my well being.” Hatred flares within your chest, your once-blooming heart now withered with rot. Tears of anguish blur your vision and make each syllable tremble. “If he didn’t want to harm me, he wouldn’t have murdered and feasted on my family.” 

A smile tucks itself in the corners of Uraume’s lips like a secret, though you miss it—misty-eyed and waist-deep in a deluge of painful memories. “You seem to forget that I prepared their flesh at my lord’s behest.” 

“I can’t fault you for being trapped under his thumb; you’re kinder than you give yourself credit for, anyhow.” 

They chuckle darkly. “And what leads you to believe that?” 

It doesn’t occur to you until this moment that you’ve edged closer to Uraume. If you leaned forward, you would smell the frost on their porcelain skin, taste the mint on their breath. Despite yourself, you reach out, cupping their cheek. 

“You’ve been my devoted caretaker since I arrived, patient and helpful at every turn. Your presence is the only constant here—my sole comfort.”

“Oh? Is my blushing bride ready to consummate our unholy union?” A rumbling voice cracks the tense air open like a bone, marrow seeping out, juices staining the tender earth. 

Your neck snaps to the doorway. Your monster of a husband nearly blots out the frame with his inhuman physique, clothed in nothing but a simple pair of black trousers, both sets of arms crossed. Disgust pinches your brow and purses your lips; you sneer. 

“With you? Never.”

Amused by your vehemence, the King of Curses approaches you, both mouths curled into wolfish grins. Uraume bows as Sukuna invades your space, two clawed hands wrapping around your waist, the other two cradling your skull. He demands your attention, irises a wine-dark sea of skeletons and ichor. A cursed siren urges you to plunge into its depths. End your suffering.

“Uraume—has my wife been inappropriate with you in my absence?” 

Without hesitation, they answer: “Yes, my lord.” 

Several sets of eyes—one belonging to Uraume, the others to Sukuna—gorge on your discomfort. You bristle under their scrutiny, and fruitlessly attempt to rip yourself from your husband’s grasp, nails scratching angry lines across his tattooed forearms. 

He clicks his tongue. “My naughty little bride.”  

Bile burns your throat at the mock-endearment, bitterness coating your tongue. For as resolved as you’ve been, you shake with rage, the hulking beast before you stoking the embers of your wrath. He smiles something sharp and wicked before releasing you. You stumble backwards, limp as a ragdoll. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna commands. 

There’s an unspoken agreement between master and servant. When Uraume steps forward and swiftly unties your robes, you shriek, the fabric slipping open to expose your nude form. They proceed to rip the garment from your body; it falls to the floor in wispy shreds. 

Attempting to preserve your dignity, you scramble to wrap an arm around your chest and press a palm between your legs. “This hardly seems proper,” you pant. 

Sukuna snickers as he sits at the foot of your bed, spreading his legs. “How else is a ‘vile brute’ supposed to learn the intricacies of his little wife’s body if not through careful examination?” 

As much as you want to spew poison at him, you gasp when Uraume’s chilly lips graze the arch of your neck, their delicate hands slipping up to caress the swell of your breasts. Unable to stifle the moan that warbles past your lips, you make the sinister decision to revel in this pleasure—no matter how short-lived, underhanded, or wrong it may be.

[lbhslefttiddie]

youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either. and is also still, sort of, a sex flower

from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way

[b1mbodoll]

gabi ‘m having thoughts about fairy!leehan. idk much abt fairy traps n things in the forest, jus’ that leehan would do whatever it takes to lure u into his realm so he can keep u forever and ever :( gets obsessed the moment he sees you out on a walk, twitches in his pants when you stray too close to his realm, dribbles pre all over his closed fist when you see the berries he enchanted just for you! he thinks you’re so naive :( anything could happen to you on these little strolls you take, you should be thanking him for always watching over you, protecting you. ur curiosity gets the better of you after passing his berry bush one too many times and u try one after an extensive google search to identity them. leehan grips his base to stop himself cumming seeing that juice staining your lips :( when the berries make you fall asleep, bind you to his realm and make you alllllll his, he carries you home. slicks his fingers up with honey and plays with every hole he can find, hooking his fingers behind the gummy insides of your cheeks, pinching and playing with your soft folds ‘til they slick up with something so sweet he wants to bottle it. gropes painfully hard to satisfy himself with the marks his rough touch leaves, abuses your skin with dark, blotchy bruises and drools all over you. jus’ imagine waking up covered in his spit and cum, all marked up by him :(( it’s all over your cheeks and eyelids, pooling in your belly button and every little divot in your pliant body leehan could find :( your nipples are so sore from his sharp teeth and he’s slobbering over your sensitive clit with his fingers curling experimentally in both holes :((( i don’t even know WHERE this idea came from but it’s haunting me it’s so hot and messy thinking abt being his little pet, having no choice but to let him experiment with your body while you sniffle and blubber about being stuck on his realm! jus’ imagine begging him to tell you how to leave and he looks up at you from between your thighs wide eyed n’ tells you maybe he’ll think about letting you go if you let him stick his cock into ur soft slick mouth and swallow his cum like a good little pet :(

pairings: leehan x f! reader

warnings: fairy! leehan + foodplay (the berry thing got me) + fingering + oral + squirting + somnophilia + monsterfucking (just in case)

💌: i think i’m going to pass out.. this is so delicious ‘m drooling

leehan’s cock throbs as he eyes the berry juice dribbling from your lips and down your chin, it stains your skin and the way your tongue darts out to lick the spillage makes him groan, his wings fluttering slightly behind him as lust clouds his mind.

it isn’t long before the enchantment takes its toll on your body; you grow sleepier, passing out soon after eating a handful of them and that’s when he makes his way over, admiring your beauty before taking advantage of the situation. he strips you of your clothing and it takes everything in him not to fuck into you immediately, it’s almost as if your wet cunt has him in a trance but he snaps out of it, wanting to use your body to play out his fantasies.

leehan kisses and licks your lips, moaning when the taste of sweet berries fills his mouth. he trails his tongue over your throat, stopping to suck hickeys onto the soft skin and he preens at the marks left behind, claiming you in his own way.

he kisses down your body, taking his time when he reaches your breasts, one of your nipples in his mouth as his fingers twist and pull the other, even palming your tit when he gets overwhelmed at the feeling. he’s never had the opportunity to touch a human like this and he’ll be damned if he doesnt explore every inch of your body.

the fairy grabs one of the fruits and bites into it, allowing for its juices to drip onto your pussy; drool slips from his mouth as well, a mixture of juice and spit making a mess of your hole.

he presses the berry against your folds, pushing and dragging it to spread the sweetness over your pretty cunt, eager to find out how you’d taste. lithe fingers make their way into your empty hole, coated in the wetness and leehan curls them inside of you, manipulating your body however he pleases.

the feeling of your walls clamping down on the digits is enough to drive leehan crazy, pulling them out and bringing them up to his mouth, cleaning his fingers of your arousal and you taste better than he could’ve ever imagined, swiping his tongue from knuckle to fingertip, savoring the flavor.

he grunts in annoyance when his fingers are free of the remnants, spreading your hole before eating you out; his nose bumps your clit as he pushes his face deeper between your thighs, tongue delving between your folds and slurping audibly to collect every bit of your mixed juices as he can.

despite being unconscious, your body reacts on its own; the pleasure causing you to subconsciously tighten your thighs and clench around his tongue. you whine softly as moans escape leehan and the vibrations are felt on your clit, sleepily tossing and turning the closer you get to your orgasm.

leehan thinks there’s absolutely no way he could ever set you free; not after tasting your cunt mixed with the berry. the taste on his fingers is nothing compared to the one straight from the source and his eagerness to make you cum sends you tumbling over the edge, your release painting his pretty face when you squirt for him.

hm, seems like you’d the perfect human pet after all.

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[witchspeka]

I love my girl Miwa but as soon as I read that this image immediately popped up in my head:

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I'm kind of obsessed with the wikivoyage page for israel like... just read it

[ancientbygone]

i didn’t do it, i didn’t do it for love; what did i do it for?

[sequel piece to kill the sparrow]

[palskippah]

Hi!

Based over the fact that my lil bro when like he just turned five cut a bunch of his hair off and my mom and I were like :000

Also, Mario connected the dots very quickly bc just that morning he told Nettarina they looked alike and then by afternoon she had many inches less of hair🧍but he didn't say anything.

BUT! Of course Nettarina did, and when Peach said "why,,?" like not really expecting an answer, she said "because mamma said I look just like him, but I didn't bc he doesn't have long hair so I cut mine!"

And Peach sent an unfairly killing stare to Mario who was like hehe sori :D

Then Mariella saw her sister and wanted to be just like her, so then they took both girls to a stylist to cut their hair properly and later after that they get ice-cream and go to a park and is very nice but Peach laments that they don't have their pretty long hair anymore, the whole afternoon alskdadf too big of a change maybe bc she wouldn't be able to braid their hair or do nice hairstyles anymore waa (she now can do the little palm tree pigtails tho and she's like aww like when they were babies! :'D)

(When Nettarina's older, she starts liking longer hair again so she returns to how she had it before the cutting from when she was five ajsdka)

BTW Mario and Peach have two more babies and they're both girls and one's called Carolina and the youngest is Giovanna and WA Carolina's design looks too much like Mario therefore too much like the twins aksjdajd but she got Peach's nose and also her big ol' eyes from the moment she was born (in Mario's eye color tho).

And Giovanna got Mario and Luigi's dad's hair (aka also Luigi's hair) so it's dark and more like Peach's rather than Mario's. She also got his nose and his eyes and his eyebrows and basically everything sjdsh

Anyways what I'm trying to get at, is that none of their four daughters look that much like Peach at simple view, but if you look closely, you notice that they got her eyebrows, or her smile or her eye color mixed in with Mario's or her eyelashes or the shape of her face whwhw

ALSO, Peach's height yippie!! They're all taller than Mario🧍and he's like psh the disrespect >:c because he gotta look up to any of their daughters, even Carolina, who is the shortest of them (by nature's laws Giovanna, being the youngest, is the tallest).

Sorry I love when children look much more like a parent than the other, especially if it's the parent that gave birth to them SJDK (it's only fair, since they carried the babies >:v)

[electrozeistyking]

i think you guys might be underestimating how long this fella is? i mean, it’s okay if you struggle with characters like this and i’ll be totally understanding if need to draw them a bit shorter to fit your style. but i am still giving you a proper reference of how long i’m aiming for when i draw this fella.

here’s some additional notes “under the cut” or what have you. they can also contain spoilers, depending on where you are in the game and whether you’ve bumped into this instance (it’s not a major one story wise since you can miss it, but i still feel like i should warn you about that regardless :3).

“rotfrin” is currently at stage three of pourrir disease, as shown in the notes talking about it and its stages. rotfrin is much taller than everyone else in the party at this stage, though they do appear shorter due to being unable to stand straight up most of the time.

on account of being stuck in a time loop, siffrin finds themself fighting pourrir disease for clarity and getting much better at that. unfortunately, he never avoids succumbing to it; he can only hold out against it for as long as he possibly can, though it steadily becomes a even more of an uphill battle as the loops go on.

as siffrin grows stronger, the sickness seems to as well. as they becomes less clumsy and more coordinated, the sickness starts progressing faster and harder. fighting it for clarity becomes easier and easier over time, yet siffrin will always find be overpowered one way or another. unless they loop back to the start, of course.

this reference displays rotfrin during their earliest loops, before they’re able to properly fight against pourrir for clarity or stay lucid for long successfully. they’re unnaturally happy, full of unending love towards their party, and feeling incredibly cold; if odile hadn’t taken action the first few times siffrin reached this stage, he could’ve spread the sickness to the others without realizing it.

seeing as siffrin’s cloak was made to grow with him, it will continue to grow with rotfrin and hide a vast majority of their body. however, as they’re a being capable of movement, their body is never perfectly covered at all times; you’d have to lift their cloak up or take it off them in order to see their body (like in this reference).

strangely enough, siffrin doesn’t progress to any stages of pourrir disease every loop. both he and loop theorize that the sickness doesn’t always have time to progress very far, on account of how short some of the loops can be, but it doesn’t explain any of the other ones where he makes it to the end without it happening.

they only figure it out during later loops.

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

not a threat but uhhh do any of yall play tf2 and would any of yall want to. play it with me?

[sunnfish]

[ID: A digital illustration of Sissel from Ghost Trick. He is shown from a lower angle, as if the viewer were looking up at him. He has a hand close to the viewer and clutching a glowing soul core. His other hand is in his pocket, and he has a serious expression on his face. The background is the clock that appears when you time travel in the game, consisting of a glowing red clock face and glowing red lines radiating from it on a black background. The art style mimics that of the game’s, with sharp black lines and shading. The color palette is mostly red, with some light blue radiating from the soul. The artist’s signature “sunnfish 2023” is written on his leg. /End ID]

Change your fate.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

✧ written for 'charm' ✧ word count: 548 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: creepy in the luring kind of way ✧ tags: other!eddie ✧ @steddiemicrofic (≧∇≦)ﾉ⁠✧

The ringing wasn’t that annoying, mostly because it meant his favourite guest had arrived.

“Meow.”

And there he is, with the little charm on his collar. Steve has no idea how it makes a jingling sound but it’s so cute, he doesn’t really care.

“Hello precious,” Steve greets and opens his windows out to let the black cat in. Robin always complains and calls it a hazard, but she also baby-talks to him so Steve doesn’t take it to heart.

But the cat doesn’t come in. He stares at Steve with wide eyes, eyes as red as the jewel of his charm. Huh. He didn’t know cat eyes could be red.

The cat meows again and hops out of the window. Steve takes his coat, locks his front door and steps out. The cat meows again, hopping along the street and Steve follows.

“Meow.”

Steve blinks. The cold air has finally hit his skin and has him shivering except – he’s been cold for a while, hasn’t he? He’s been – he’s been walking for a while, his legs ache so much. Steve looks around, the shadows of the empty road crawling around him, and realizes he must have left town ten minutes ago.

How –

The cat.

The one that always came to their window and asked to be let in, the one he followed all this way.

Where is it?

“Aren’t you a little far from home?”

Steve swivels around, hand grasping out for – for what?

A man smiles at him from the middle of the road. It’s too dark to see his face but he can see his eyes.

Pretty, pretty red.

“What are you doing here, stranger?” the man asks as he holds his hand out, crooking a finger in a ‘come-hither’ kind of way.

Steve stumbles over. “I – I was following this cat, where –“

The man’s (pretty, so pretty) red eyes widen, and he barks out a laugh. Steve smiles with him. “A cat, huh? In this cold? Oh, you poor thing.”

The moment he said that, the chill of the wind bit at Steve’s ears, and he shudders.

“Oh no,” the man tuts. He steps closer to Steve, pulling him in by his waist and adjust his own thick, fur coat around the both of them. “Is that better, sweetheart?”

Steve smiles, and he knows it’s his dopiest one because it’s the one that would always make people laugh and call him an idiot.

The man’s smile drops and his (beautiful, bloody) eyes flare angrily. He holds Steve even closer, even tighter, and Steve feels so warm. “They’re not worth it, sweetheart. We’re here now.”

Nuzzling into his neck, Steve sighs happily.

“That’s it, darlin’,” the man murmurs and he sighs too. “You don’t even remember me, but I’ve been so lonely without you.”

“Without me?” Steve frowns and goes to look at the man, Eddie, in the eye but a cold, clawed hand presses his face back into the warm skin. “Why were you without me?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Eddie chuckles and Steve hums. “You’ve got me now and I’ve got you. Just like we said.”

Steve peeks over Eddie’s shoulder, where the lights of the town fade into the shadows. Just like they said.