#sable quill

[porcelain-feather]

Dolls are uniquely suited to working as medical assistants. Their strict adherence to protocol ensures that patients will receive proper treatment with consistency easily surpassing that provided by human staff. The Doll's affinity for cleaning ensures that their facilities maintain sterile conditions, and their ceramic hands are easy to sterilize before interacting with each patient, thus minimizing the risk of disease transmission (though only glazed porcelain may be used, as painted finishes will rapidly erode from regular applications of disinfectant and unglazed porcelain absorbs liquids). All Dolls are by nature of their construction immune to needle-stick injuries, cannot spread respiratory diseases, and never run the risk of contracting illness themselves.

Above all other reasons, though, Dolls in most regions are made with Service as their Purpose. Common custom among human doctors for centuries was to pledge themselves to the 'service of humanity' - and if such a thing is so inseparable from medical work, there are few jobs that will align with a Doll's Purpose better other than direct work with a Witch.

[edandstede]

hey what are some of your fav video games? always on the lookout for new things to play (i play on ps5 & switch) drop ur recs in my inbox cheers ⭐️⭐️

[chaaistained]

☕︎ my marauders dr; intro •°

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🗝️ you’ve now unlocked the recipe to my marauders dr ≈

name : julia ephemeri potter

age (when i shift) : 15 — i’m experiencing the whole slow burn.. and i just know it’s gonna be torture . but we persevere

— (when i post about my script) : most of the time, i’ll be talking about me from the ages of 16-21 onwards

occupation : student of witchcraft at hogwarts

+ (eventually) some form of adult occupation . i’ll edit this later i genuinely don’t know and i don’t need to know for good few years at least so..

details :

— house : gryffindor

— wand : sandalwood with a mermaid hair core , 9.5”

+ wand breakdown tbd

— patronus : brown bear / sable (undecided, i love both.. help)

— amortentia : ocean air , candle wax , musty paper

+ amortentia breakdown tbd

— fav subject : alchemy

— top subjects : (+ alchemy) ancient runes , charms , muggle studies

— pets : sadie / sadie sue (ginger tabby cat) , barnaby (brown barn owl , shared with james..)

side hobbies/hustles : gryffindor quidditch team seeker

+ (eventually) editorial team of the hogwarts herald

+ (eventually) prefect

s/o : regulus arcturus black ৻ꪆ

౨ৎ meet miss juju berry

an incandescence, forged of tart blood and a permeating sense of melancholy — she finds herself in a constant search, an unsolvable quest for meaning, latching onto anything that can define her identity and yet feeling irrevocably lost to herself — she is only the light, not the sun . she is only the shell, not the pearl . she is only the stain , not the blackberry

i unfurl into this reality with the kind of effervescence found in firewhiskey, a bubbling surprise of sorts, one that my own parents weren’t expecting. my mum calls me a gift, she calls my brother a blessing . i don’t know if the difference in term denotes a difference in how we’re perceived, and truth be told it drove me crazy as a kid and sometimes it still does but for whatever purpose or prosperity, the fates resolved that i was meant to be born and here i am

a toppling fire cracker of a girl, or so i’m told, i’m one of the rambunctious gryffindors that barrel down the marble hallways of hogwarts castle. i bunk with seven other girls, one of whom is my best friend — mary macdonald. along with the charming ravenclaw — emmeline vance — and a snark of a hufflepuff — hestia jones — the four of us can be found in various locations around the school campus; passed out in a heap on the softest patch of grass near the black lake , shooting pine cones over the whomping willow and keeping score of who gets the most over without the tree smacking them away , secluded in the third booth on the second floor of the library . our quills drying out while we distractedly ignore our transfiguration homework in favour of finding the right spell to conceal our carved names on the bottom of the booth’s oakwood table (the result of emmeline sneaking alcoholic butterbeer into the school, and a series of bad decisions later, we’d all drunkenly vandalised the furniture.. thankfully mcgonagall doesn’t know or i might lose my prefect badge)

with small flowers in my braid and golden earrings that shimmer as i shake my head, i slip between the sea of students with an ease that can only be spotted in the agile gait of a seeker. though, nothing about my speed on the ground can compare to that which i showcase when i’m hundreds of feet in the air, my broomstick being an extension of me, something i trust to a concerning degree, coming up with the sorts of tricks and techniques that would land me in the hospital wing if i wasn’t as good as i am. that attention to detail, the pedantic precision of my sight is also what makes me a renowned editor of the student body’s newsletter — a semi-professional scrapbook of a weekly issue, a holistic voice of all students from all houses . honestly it can be hard to maintain that harmony but perhaps that’s why dumbledore sanctioned the club, a forceful hand at coexisting

regardless, it’s the least of my worries, a pastime really, my main focus being the exceedingly irritating presence of a certain slytherin seeker, who grows more and more unbearable by the day, not to mention he’s constantly around, in almost all my classes, assigned to same hours of prefect patrol, not a moment of peace . and yet paired with that bothersome nuisance brews the burning desire to find out more

and if you want to know why, then i suppose you should keep reading

(merlin’s name, i can write intrigue splendidly, they should assign me as the journalist not just the bloody editor)

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ my black bird

a rising tide in his own right, he is determined to maintain what is deemed to be perfection, unwilling to admit that no two waves ever look the same, no two stars ever shine alike, there is no apex . and yet he tries. haunted by ancestry, rippling currents that pull him into the ravine of his family’s legacy, it’s a future he wishes to inherit whilst believing it impossible. until his brother abandoned his birthright and that status, that title, that name he always wanted to earn yet never actually trained for, was now his

that unassuming final breath before striking a curse, the calm interwoven with calamity, that’s what regulus feels in every waking moment .

there is a blurry haze of memories when he tries to decipher where it all began — did envy bleed out of him every time sirius entered the room and commanded attention with his mere presence? or was it admiration? did he love his brother or loath him? maybe neither, maybe both, maybe everything in between and nothing at all, it never made sense and it probably never will.

so then leaves the question of his own significance — fostered from birth? or handed down simply because he is the spare to the heir? in this instance both made sense but neither option would ever be clarified.

and so regulus chooses to not feel anything, reserve all emotions to be shared with a few select friends — evan and barty had a way about them, his laughter was not something he could hold back in their presence . dorcas founded a semblance of solitude even though the space was shared, as if their silence was a mutual understanding, a shorthand of sorts . pandora had the gift of gracing their group with his smile, he considered it a curse that she had such a superpower, to bring out these genuine joys in other people, but he knew she wouldn’t see it that way — those were his people

not his brother . who he shifted his eyes to look away from whenever they passed each other .. only to turn back and glance over his shoulder, observing the elder son’s movements, wishing he’d turn back too, and then hurriedly clenching his fist, squashing the thought before it even had the chance to breathe

not his parents . who stood tall yet hollow, ghosts of who they were before their family was “torn apart” according to them, holding metaphorical goal posts only to keep moving them higher and higher every time regulus attempted to score, before tutting as he slipped and fell, unable to maintain the impossible altitude of their expectations

no. his people were his friends, the people who could mellow out his misgivings, erode his stone walls

and yet, those stone walls remain intact, erosion takes time.

unless of course someone me shattered the very structure of his world view, erupting his life into firework flurries of emotions, clandestine nights, musty sunrises drenched in dew drops and fog, leaving a wafting air about the world, scented jasmine and blackberry, amber gold flecks embedded inside twin irises . the kind of beauty that haunts his dreams and burns fire in his heart

he really should not be giving in to such a tragically stupid connection, not when majority of the time is spent bickering amongst dusty textbooks, whispering shouts bouncing off cold castle walls in the middle of the night, hexes spewing back and forth before finally forfeiting from fear of being caught .. that isn’t what he should want

he shouldn’t want anything

and yet he does

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ candlelit hearts

sinking into an unknown abyss, falling from the sky with a smile on your face while the halo around your head crackles, wax dripping down the curve of your back, you were destined to fall, that’s what you are meant to do, that’s who you are meant to be — a tidal wave tore through your heart, engulfing you entirely and yet you let yourself descend deeper and deeper — for reasons unknown, you found a companion in the darkness, a fire in the flesh, a home between interlaced fingers, foreheads pressed together and a single flickering candle flame that burns bright from the magic of your shared love

it’s funny, when i look back at it. because i suppose we always knew the other existed, but i only really met him when i was 13..

whatever classes we shared before, whatever moments were missed where we walked past each other through hallways or on moving staircases, those never really registered.

i just remember the cold, the prickly sensation of snow on my bare fingertips, crunching under my feet, glittering from the shy slithers of sunlight that flitted through the bleak grey sky. the constant dinging bells, the sound of students exploring all that hogsmeade had to offer, and yet there we stood, facing each other in an alley between shops, frowning in a way that would become all too familiar in the years to come

for what it’s worth, it’s easy to dislike the guy — almost always beating me by a few marks, his facial expression was more than enough of a gloat in itself . creating nicknames for whatever trick i use in a quidditch match and always coming up with a counter move (he can’t ever let me win. personally speaking, of course, i win plenty of matches) . it’s always something with him, and whatever quick bursts of emotion i bring out are hurriedly buried under a blank expression and a tired, almost uninterested visage that boils my blood in a way i cannot possibly describe . and yet i find myself thinking about it, about him, in the ungodly hours of the night.. only to get back at him of course

and it isn’t as if i can speak for him, for the longest time i had no clue what he’d be thinking no matter how long i stared, trying to decipher his thoughts.. but i’d be an idiot to have not noticed a change — the way he would walk through life with a strive to prove himself and yet constantly controlling how much of that ambition he could show.. living each day almost half present, half minded, elsewhere entirely, focused on a far reaching future as if it was right around the corner

he wasn’t like that anymore, he seemed to flourish, to spark, to appear alive . but only when teetering on the tightrope of an improbable partnership, an impossible romance, a strange little love story written between the aged cushions of an abandoned couch, in a hidden lounge, behind an old potions classroom — we found it together . or, more so, we argued and raced to unlock the door first, but regardless, it was our space . a space in which the kindling fire of an unlikely friendship would blossom into something greater than i could ever hope for

and when the mysteries within the castle walls start to crack through, when the secrets between the students stir the cauldron of rumours, and the history of influential families begins to pull itself up from the grave .. i guess it’s not so surprising to admit, but someone as curious as me, paired with someone as persistent as regulus? it’s no big shock that we find ourselves in the middle of such a storm

one transmutation away from uncovering the truth, waking up old bones, and burying the new ones

don’t swallow the tea leaves ! for they leave you a message 🍂

the people have spoken (i’m referring to the poll) and so i post ^this .. it did take a while bcs of numerous reasons that i don’t want to go into but anyway, i adore this dr so so much and i’ve worked so hard on the fic version of it T^T however it is a bit too traumatic for me to actually live out so .. this dr is slightly more tame — i just want to relive high school in hogwarts with the people that helped me through a lot of the shit i faced when i was in high school and they were merely characters on a screen — although, i can’t help myself, there are a few mysteries and bouts of intrigue to keep me entertained, i just .need to figure out what.. i could leave it up to my subconscious but . i don’t wanna do that ≈

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[pupsmailbox]

MINECRAFT ID PACK

NAMES︰ alex. amber. amethyst. ash. azalea. blaze. block. briar. brick. brielle. brier. brook. carver. celeste. clay. cobble. cree. crystal. daisy. dawn. dusty. ember. end. eve. flint. flora. forge. garnet. gemma. granite. grayson. harper. hazel. hero. holly. hopper. iris. ivy. jade. jett. juniper. lapis. laurel. lilac. lily. magnolia. maple. marigold. mason. meadow. miner. mira. moss. nova. oak. onyx. opal. pearl. pebble. poppy. prairie. pyre. quill. red. reed. river. rocky. rose. rowan. ruby. sable. sage. sapphire. selene. shale. sky. skye. skylar. slate. smith. spruce. steele. stella. stephen. stone. sunny. terra. thalia. timber. torch. violet. wade. willow.

PRONOUNS︰ a/axe. adventurer/adventurer. allay/allay. ar/armour. ax/axe. bam/bamboo. bat/bat. bee/bee. biome/biome. birch/birch. bla/blaze. blaz/blaze. blaze/blaze. blo/block. block/block. build/build. bun/bun. cake/cake. chest/chest. clay/clay. cob/cobble. copper/cooper. cow/cow. cra/craft. craf/craft. craft/craft. cre/creative. creep/creeper. creeper/creeper. dark/dark. deep/deepslate. deep/slate. dig/dig. disc/disc. drown/drown. ely/elytra. elytra/elytra. en/end. end/end. end/eye. ender/ender. ender/enderman. enderman/endermen. explorer/explorer. fight/fight. flint/flint. for/forge. fox/fox. ghast/ghast. glow/stone. goat/goat. grav/gravel. heal/heal. hive/hive. hun/hunger. husk/husk. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ice/ice. kaboom/kaboom. kelp/kelp. lav/lava. love/love. magma/magma. mi/mine. mine/mine. mob/mob. mod/mod. moosh/mooshroom. mooshroom/mooshroom. musicnote/musicnote. nether/nether. nostalgia/nostalgia. nostalgic/nostalgic. oak/oak. ocean/ocean. ore/ore. over/overworld. over/world. pearl/pearl. phantom/phantom. pi/pick. pig/pig. pig/pigstep. pig/step. play/player. ram/ram. red/stone. sap/sapling. scream/scream. sculk/sculk. sea/sea. shea/shear. sheep/sheep. sho/shovel. shulk/shulker. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. skele/skeleton. skeleton/skeleton. skulk/skulk. slime/slime. sme/smelt. smp/smp. snow/snow. spawner/spawner. spec/spectator. speed/speedrun. spider/spider. spruce/spruce. sta/stack. sto/stone. strider/strider. surv/survival. survivor/survivor. swo/sword. tele/teleport. terra/terracotta. thxy/thxm. thy/thym. tnt/tnt. tor/torch. tree/tree. ve/vex. vwoop/vwoop. warden/warden. warp/warped. warrior/warrior. wat/water. wit/wither. wither/wither. wo/wood. wolf/wolf. xp/xp. zomb/zombie. zombie/zombie.

[acronym-chaos]

Minecraft Inspired ID Pack

[PT: Minecraft Inspired ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Names

[PT: Names].

Alex, Amber, Amethyst, Ash, Azalea, Blaze, Block, Brick, Briar, Brielle, Brook, Carver, Celeste, Clay, Cobble, Cree, Crystal, Daisy, Dawn, Dusty, Ember, End, Eve, Flora, Flint, Forge, Garnet, Gemma, Granite, Grayson, Harper, Hazel, Holly, Hopper, Iris, Ivy, Jade, Jett, Juniper, Lapis, Laurel, Lilac, Lily, Maple, Marigold, Mason, Meadow, Miner, Mira, Moss, Nova, Oak, Onyx, Opal, Pearl, Pebble, Poppy, Pyre, Quill, Reed, Red, River, Rocky, Rose, Rowan, Ruby, Sage, Sable, Sapphire, Selene, Shale, Sky, Skylar, Slate, Smith, Spruce, Steele, Stella, Stone, Sunny, Terra, Thalia, Timber, Torch, Violet, Wade, Willow

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

A / Ax / Axe; Bla / Blaz / Blaze; Blo / Block / Blocks; Build / Build / Builds; Cob / Cobble / Cobbles; Cra / Craf / Craft; Cra / Craf / Craft; Cree / Creep / Creeper; Dig / Dig / Digs; E / En / End; Flint / Flint / Flints; Fo / For / Forge; Mi / Mine / Mines; Pi / Pick / Picks [Pickaxe]; Red / Stone / Redstones; Sap / Sapling / Saplings; Shea / Shear / Shears; Sho / Shovel / Shovels; Sme / Smelt / Smelts; Sta / Stack / Stacks; Sto / Stone / Stones; Tor / Torch / Torches; Wo / Wood / Woods

Titles

[PT: Titles].

Builder of Worlds; Crafter of Blocks; Master of the Mines; The Blocksmith; The Brave Explorer; The Collector of Resources; The Creator of Realms; The Defender of the Village; The Ender of Mobs; The Master of the Redstone; The Master Miner; The Pixel Pioneer; The Resource Gatherer; The Survival Expert; [Pronoun] Who Crafts with Precision; [Pronoun] Who Delves Deep; [Pronoun] Who Faces the Nether; [Pronoun] Who Mines and Builds; [Pronoun] Who Shapes the World

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom, end ID].

Requested by @rwuffles on Discord!

Also tagging: @pronoun-arc @id-pack-archive

[saturniasxenos]

Nature / Flora ID Pack

Inside this pack, you will find: Pronouns, Titles, Names, and Genders that relate to Nature, Flora, Flowers, Trees, and anything alike!

This is my 3rd NPT pack! 💜 I hope you find what you are looking for. I try to add as MUCH content as possible, so even if you don't find it, you can have an idea! (I'm still not the best at titles...)

🍀 Pronouns:

Flo/Florae/Flora/Floras/Floraself

Flo/Flora/Floral/Florals/Floralself

Flo/Flow/Flower/Flowers/Flowerself

Le/Lea/Leaf/Leafs/Leafself

Tre/Tree/Trees/Trees/Treeself

Wo/Woo/Wood/Woods/Woodself

For/Fores/Forest/Forests/Forestself

Na/Natu/Nature/Natures/Natureself

Clo/Clove/Clover/Clovers/Cloverself

Pla/Plan/Plant/Plants/Plantself

Bi/Bio/Bios/Bios/Bioself

Mo/Moss/Mossy/Mosses/Mossself

Gra/Grass/Grassy/Grasses/Grassself

Ec/Eco/Ecos/Ecos/Ecoself

Fun/Fung/Fungi/Fungus/Fungiself

Mush/Mushro/Mushroom/Mushrooms/Mushroomself

Al/Alga/Algae/Algaes/Algaeself

Ea/Ear/Earth/Earths/Earthself

Ju/Jung/Jungle/Jungles/Jungleself

Pi/Pin/Pine/Pines/Pineself

Ta/Tai/Taiga/Taigas/Taigaself

So/Soi/Soil/Soils/Soilself

Gre/Gree/Green/Greens/Greenself

Dru/Drui/Druid/Druids/Druidself

Fai/Fair/Fairy/Fairys/Fairyself

Ge/Geo/Geos/Geos/Geoself

Ro/Rock/Rocks/Rocks/Rockself

Spri/Sprin/Spring/Springs/Springself

Su/Sum/Summer/Summers/Summerself

Tro/Trop/Tropical/Tropics/Tropicalself

Wi/Wil/Wild/Wilds/Wildself

Wil/Wilde/Wilderness/Wilderness/Wildernessself

Gar/Gard/Garden/Gardens/Gardenself

Bir/Birc/Birch/Birchs/Birchself

Oa/Oak/Oaks/Oaks/Oakself

Spru/Spruc/Spruce/Spruces/Spruceself

Oa/Oas/Oasis/Oasis/Oasisself

Ri/Riv/River/Rivers/Riverself

La/Lak/Lake/Lakes/Lakeself

Ra/Rai/Rain/Rains/Rainself

Wi/Wint/Winter/Winters/Winterself

Fro/Fros/Frost/Frosts/Frostself

Fa/Fall/Falls/Falls/Fallself

Au/Autu/Autumn/Autumns/Autumnself

🌲/🌲's

🍀/🍀's

🌸/🌸's

🌿/🌿's

🌱/🌱's

🌳/🌳's

🌵/🌵's

🍃/🍃's

🌻/🌻's

🌹/🌹's

🌧/🌧's

☀/☀'s

❄/❄'s

💨/💨's

💧/💧's

🌸 Titles:

Preserver of The Forest

(X) Who Nurtures

Born From The Forest

Guardian of The Forest

Dancer of The Desert

(X) Who Guards The Oasis

Child of The Trees

Floral Founder

Seeker of The Leaves

(X) Who Dances With The Petals

Druid of The Land

Wings of The Forest

Nurturing The Land

Nurturer of The Forest

Nature's Guardian

Child of Mother Nature

Guardian of Mother Nature

Raindrop on The Leaf

Dancing in The Wind

Guardian of The Crops

Child of The Nymph

The Water Dancer

The River Traveler

🍃 Names:

Fem: Azalea, Aurora, Aster, Bellatrix, Belladonna, Blossom, Coral, Calla, Camellia, Dahlia, Daisy, Dawn, Dove, Dandelion, Ember, Flora, Floria, Giselle, Heather, Holly, Ivy, Jade, Juliet, Jasmine, Luna, Lunar, Lotus, Lily, Lilac, Lavender, Magnolia, Marigold, Meadow, Moon, Maple, Nova, Opal, Petunia, Poppy, Plum, Primrose, Paisley, Rosamund, Rose, Rosa, Rainy, Raine, Stella, Summer, Thea, Violet, Verna, Vine, Willow, Zinna,

Masc: Acacius, August, Arthur, Acorn, Arno, Aire, Beckett, Bear, Birch, Cedar, Cliff, Clay, Corvus, Clayton, Cove, Canyon, Callum, Caspian, Dune, Dylan, Elwood, Finn, Fielder, Falcon, Fox, Forest, Florian, Flint, Griffin, Hunter, Jasper, Jonah, Kai, Leo, Luan, Lennox, Micah, Oliver, Quill, Oscar, Orson, Roscoe, Rainier, Rhodes, Reed, Ronan, Rowan, Spruce, Sol, Thorne, Thorn, Wilder, Winter, Weston,

Neu: Arbor, Ashton, Ash, Agate, Autumn, Aspen, Bay, Berry, Barley, Brae, Bryony, Basil, Brooks, Bourne, Cereus, Clover, Crow, Cypress, Chamomile, Everest, Eden, Fawn, Farley, Finley, Frost, Fern, Foxley, Hazel, Harper, Hyacinth, Iris, Juniper, Jay, Jett, Koa, Krow, Lake, Leaf, Lynx, Oakley, Nightshade, Onyx, Orion, Olive, Pike, Pepper, Prairie, Phoenix, Robin, River, Raven, Rye, Scout, Sage, Stone, Sable, Snowden, Storm, Thistle, Wolf, Wolfe, Wulfwynn, Wren, Zen, Zev, Zephyr,

🌲 Genders:

Natureserenic - a gender related to spending your days in the middle of nowhere inside your cottage overgrown with nature, cats, dogs, and peacefulness.

Rotgrowth - A gender that has a deep connection to the idea of new plant life growing out of dead, rotting, decaying bodies such as animals and humans.

Vancouldian - a gender related to tall evergreen trees blowing in the wind against a cloudy sky

Regenderation - A gender connected to all things related to regeneration and growth. Medicine, nature, the life aspect, shades of pinks and greens, etc.

Mouanipre - a gender connected to baby animals, daisies, wildflowers, flower crowns, soft grass, meadows, fawns, bunnies, lambs, soft fur, sleepy baby animals, pastel colors, and cute baby animals resting in soft meadows.

Heliangender - a gender related to, affected by, or connected to sunflowers.

Convolvulaceaeic - A gender that has a deep connection to the Convolvulaceae Family of flowers.

Naturegender - Gender relating to nature/plants

Asteraceaeica - gender that has a deep connection to the Asteraceae Family of flowers.

[marked-ivory-and-sable]

HIIIII!! This is my first post for my STH AU Marked Ivory and Sable (MIAS for short)

I wanted to introduce one of the main characters of my story, Annalee Rose!! She is the daughter of Shadow the Hedgehog and Amy Rose! (More details on their relationship later!!)

Also, keep in mind this story takes place in a “Modern Day AU” which also takes place in 2024

Annalee is 16 years old, her birthday is February 14, 2008. She uses she/they pronouns but typically just uses she/her. She is omnisexual with a female lean

Annalees older sister is Roxie the hedgebat, who is Shadow the Hedgehog and Rouge the Bat’s daughter (more on Roxie, Shadow, and Rouges relationships later as well!)

She is a pink hedgehog with ivory skin with black streaks in her hair and has green eyes. She had relatively short, swooping quills that often stick out in odd places, as well as three in the front that act as bangs, and the longest two pieces act as face framing. Her quills are often messy and are naturally unkept, although she does try to maintain them, it seems they have a mind of their own. She wears a frilly, army green, retro dress with circular shaped earrings the same colour as her dress. She also wears a white headband in hopes of keeping her quills in check (it does not help, but it looks cute!) She also wears white, chunky, high heeled shoes (much like mary janes) with a bow on the front of them

She is a very sweet and caring person, very loving, much like her mother, Amy, but unlike her mom, she does not have a very fiery side, which she is insecure disappoints both her parents. She is a very insecure person in general, but especially when it comes to living up to expectations. She hates disappointing people and hates being disappointed. She is generous with almost everything and would give her life to save others. She wants to be more like her parents, to be able to stick up for herself, but she does not have that sort of confidence yet and hopes to gain it some day

I may add more details to her later, so I may eventually delete and/or update this post!!

[illarian-rambling]

DIY mini-Audiobook, let's go!

Mystery of the Mortal God, Chapter 1 pt.1

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gl31TW-G_IdD67P8eVvDcCAxWgWwszti/view?usp=drivesdk

Mystery of the Mortal God, Chapter 1 pt.2

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gk13_MZSV2_G4UGx6XQHOTPsW6NG_Xqw/view?usp=drivesdk

(Please lmk if the links work or not, I had to jury rig this shit lol)

(And if I made any mistakes, shush, no I didn't)

Hope you enjoy!

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

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[moniquill]

@travellingdragon , because you asked:

Dragon descriptions by breed:

Nampeshiwe - the indigenous dragons of North Markesland (specifically a northeast woodlands breed)

In general, North Markesland dragons are somewhat mustelid in conformation and gait 

A description of Kasaqua’s mother:

It was red and gold and glorious with the evening sun behind it, like a hillside in autumn. From nose to tail it was twice as long as my canoe, and its wings opened half again that wide. It had a crown of antlers that must have come to thirty points or more. It stretched its wings, and the sun came through them, showing the scarlet net of its bloodworks. It had a long, sinuous body, like an otter or a fisher. Its neck double-curved like a heron's. Its mane was blood red, each spiky feather tipped with black, and it had black markings on its eyes and muzzle and along the rims of its deer-like ears.

Kasaqua upon hatching:

Overall it was about the size of a marten, dull yellow and speckled brown and black across its back. Its wings, as it stretched them out and flicked off bits of slime, proved much smaller than its mother's had been. They didn't look at all suited for the task of getting it into the air. Its head was overlarge for its body, and so were its feet. It had no sign of antlers or feathers. It looked as soft and bald as a baby songbird.

Word of Author on Nampeshiwe:

Average size when adult is twenty feet from nose to tail and thirty feet from wingtip to wingtip at full spread - this makes them middle-sized as dragons go. Bodily conformation of hatchlings should put one in mind of a ferret, sable, or martin - a mature adult is more like a wolverwine or honeybadger. The skin of the body ranges from buff gold through ginger and even orange, while the wingleather shades smoothly from that color at the wing wrist to scarlet red at the leading edge. Mane feathers of adults are red or ruddy brown and may or may not have darker veins and tips. Adults females have manes on the crows of thier heads and backs of their necks, while adult males have a mane that fully encompasses the throat and chest, like a lion’s mane and may or may not have a beard. Adults males also have bronze iridescence, especially on the breast feathers.   

Introduced Dragons

In general, dragons from the old world are somewhat wolfish or doggish in confirmation and gait

Akhari - an introduced breed developed in Kindah and Kedar

One of the dragons saw us coming and rose to its feet, approaching with great interest. It was a breed I didn't know from the book, light brown with black stripes across its back and wings, pale on its belly. It was as tall as a pony, but longer from nose to tail. It yawned hugely and loped forward with a wolfish gait, and Kasaqua bounded ahead to meet it. 

Arin - an introduced breed developed in Vaskosland (closely related to Bjalladreki)

In the next cell, a somewhat smaller dragon lay on its back, belly up and legs splayed. It was a shade of green that reflected blue, like the head of a drake mallard, and had a thorny crown of bone-white quills.

Professor Ibarra's Arin, Abiadura, looked like an especially lean and lanky Bjalladreki with shorter and stouter quills.

Bjalladreki - an introduced Norseland breed

This dragon had a crown of brown and white striped quills, the ones nearest to its face webbed like a fish's fins. It was a ruddy brown color overall, fading to gray on its belly and beneath its wings, with brilliant sea-green eyes. The webs around its face were mottled with green markings, too.

Niklas’ dragon was a bjalledreki as well, and having three of them at such close quarters allowed me to examine the breed in a detail that I hadn't been able to before. Ivar's dragon was the largest of the three, and broadest across the chest. Niklas’ dragon was smaller than Sigrod but larger than Magnus, and more gray than either of the others. The quills of its crown were especially long and finely formed, their banding more subtle and dappled, and they were each tipped in brilliant white. Magnus looked rangy compared to the other two, plainly more juvenile in conformation and demeanor.

Bjalladrekis were far and away the most common breed in the academy’s dragonhall, probably because the breed was famously even-tempered and versatile. Also because bjalladrekis begat more bjalladrekis, so their being popular meant more of their eggs were available. Marta’s dragon, Magnus, was a bjalladreki. The breed was ruddy brown and gray, with a mane of quills like a porcupine’s, and teal-green markings on the face and the backs of the wings.

Word of Author: This is the Labrador Retriever and American Quarter Horse of the dragon world, at least in New Anglesland dragoneering culture - wildly popular for being a dependable, middle of the road kind of creature.

Falterdrach -  an introduced breed developed in Tyskland

The dragon in the next cell was red and black, with a pair of recurved black horns. It was worrying at a bone big enough that it had to be a cow's leg. It flicked a wing open as we passed by the front of the cell, and I saw that it had great black patches on a red field, like a butterfly's wing.

Professor Mesman’s Falterdrach, Kostbar, was a smallish black dragon with brilliant red patches on his wings reminiscent of a butterfly.

Jirada - an introduced breed developed in Kindah

In the cell after that, a brown and gold dragon was lying with its back to us. I couldn't see its head at all, but it seemed to have very long, narrow wings.

Professor Nazari's Jirada, named Zati, was dusty brown with especially long and narrow wings.

Kessledrach - an introduced breed developed in Tyskland

It was an altogether larger creature than Kasaqua's mother had been—stockier and more forwardly-built. If Kasaqua’s mother could be likened to an otter, this dragon could be likened to a bear. It was green and bronze, and instead of antlers it had a pair of sharp horns that swept back from its brow.

Frau Kuiper’s Gerhard, an enormous dark green Kessledrach, was built like a bear 

Silberdrach - an introduced breed developed in Anglesland

All of the other cells—something like seventy or eighty of them—appeared to be empty save one at the very end. In that cell a huge white-and-gray dragon with pale eyes stared at us with keen interest. Its mouth was partly open, its black tongue flicking out between glittering fangs.

Two of the dragoneers visited north village. Not dragons like yours, thorny silver-white monsters eight foot tall at the shoulder.”

“Silberdrachs,” I said, nodding. “They’re a favored breed in the dragonthede, along with Kessledrachs. Most of the jarlsgards who are dragoneers are bonded to Silberdrachs, I think.

Captain Einarsson’s ill-tempered Silberdrach, whose name I’d never learned, was white and gray - though her tongue and gums were black

Velikolepni - an introduced breed developed in Russland and Roveland

It was only a little bigger than Kasaqua, and it had a very distinctive look. It was very pale all over, wheat-colored above and below with bands of white along its flanks, shading to brilliant gold on its tail and the backs of its wings. It lacked any sort of a mane, but had three sets of little horny nubs on either side of the crown of its head. It had a pair of barbles sweeping back from its nose, another above its eyebrows, and a double pair sprouting from its chin—taken together, I was reminded very strongly of a catfish.

Sander’s dragon, Inga, had grown enormously since I’d last seen her. She was now the size of a pony, and her triple set of golden horns had grown out to three or four inches in length. 

In general, dragons from Markesland and the Far East have brachiating antlers that shed and regrow annually and elongated bauplans, while Norselandish dragons have horns (1-3 pairs) that do not shed and more compact bauplans.

[elliemarchetti]

The Queen of the Quills - Jily Edition (Part 5)

Posting on Tumblr too because this fic's sister is already there.

Reading The Queen of the Quills - Blackinnon Edition will not be mandatory to understand the developments of James and Lily's story, but some details could be shared, therefore, for anyone wishing to fully enjoy the experience, I will leave this series' masterlist here.

This was @athenasparrow's gift for @jilymicrofics ' Exchange 2024, but if you like it and are willingly to reblog, it would be super appreciated since stories like this require quite some time and effort🥰

Taglist (if anyone wants to be added, please DM me or comment and I'll gladly add you!): @thaisthedreamer

Plot: James Potter, London's most evasive bachelor, an impertinent libertine, has decided to get married. He has also already chosen his wife, the debutante Lily Evans, a self-confident young woman who has not the slightest intention of being seduced by such a man. A Bridgerton inspired Regency AU.

Words: 4093

Mrs. Potter’s musicale proved to be a decidedly musical affair (not, this author assures you, always the norm for musicales). The guest performer was none other than Maria Rosso, an Italian soprano from the all-witch choir known as Spellbound who made their debut in London two years ago and has returned after a brief stint on the Vienna stage. With thick, sable hair and flashing dark eyes, Miss Rosso proved as lovely in form as she did in voice, and more than one, or it would be better to say more than a dozen, of society’s so-called gentleman found it difficult indeed to remove their eyes from her person, even after the performance had concluded.

The Queen of the Quills, May 17, 1813

Lily felt the exact moment he walked in the room. She tried to tell herself it had nothing to do with a heightened awareness of the excruciatingly handsome wizard, she couldn’t imagine that every woman didn’t notice him immediately, and furthermore, he arrived late – not very, but still enough he had to try to be quiet as he slipped into a chair at the front next to Mrs. Evans – still she noticed him before her own mother and sister did, and it rendered her unable to even breathe. He didn’t look her way, but several candles had been snuffed, leaving the room bathed in a dim, romantic glow, so the shadows must’ve obscured her face and the way she tried to keep her eyes on Miss Rosso throughout the performance, even if the woman couldn’t take hers off of Mr. Potter, and for some reasons, it didn’t improve her disposition. She should’ve rejoiced in the fact, it was just another piece of proof he was every bit the licentious rake she’d always known him to be, but she wasn’t feeling smug, or vindicated, she was just heavily, uncomfortably disappointed, so much so she felt herself slump slightly in her chair.

When the performance was done, she couldn’t help but notice how the soprano, after graciously accepting her applause, brazenly approached her suitor and offered him one of those seductive smiles, the sort Lily would never learn to do even if she had a thousand opera singers trying to teach her. There was no mistaking what she meant with that act, and he must’ve realized too, because he threw her a mysterious look and actually tucked an errant lock of her raven hair behind her ear.

Lily shivered in disgust. For Merlin’s beard, the man didn’t even need to chase women, they practically dropped at his feet and whispered sweet nothing in his ears! Maybe she praised him, or maybe she outwardly offered herself, because he leaned down enough to kiss her neck.

“Lily?” hissed her mother, decidedly irritated. “Stop watching Mr. Potter.”

“I wasn’t… well, all right, I was, but did you see him?” she whispered urgently. “He’s shameless.”

She looked back over at him, still flirting with Maria Rosso, no care in the world about who might see.

“I’m sure his behaviour isn’t any of our business,” replied Elizabeth, lips pursed into a tight line. “He has been kind in delivering the invitations to the musicale himself, but I’m certain he wants nothing to do with you after that fiasco in Hyde Park.”

If the situation had been different, Lily would have argued that it wasn't her fault that his dog had pushed her into the water and he jumped in to save her when she was already swimming toward the shore, but she didn't have the energy to argue right now, so she sagged her shoulders and followed her family as they greeted their lovely hostess. Mrs. Potter had fair hair and light eyes, and she was rather petite to have mothered such a large son, so Lily decided her late husband must’ve been a tall man.

“Mrs. Evans,” she said warmly, “what a delight to see you again. I so enjoyed our meeting at the last ball and I must say I’m very glad you decided to accept my invitation.”

“We wouldn’t dream of spending the evening elsewhere,” her mother rejoined. “And may I present you my daughters? The older one is Petunia, and the younger one is Lily.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both, and I would like to introduce you to Mr and Mrs. McKinnon’s daughter, Marlene,” she said, motioning to a young lady at her side. For some reason, Lily was convinced she had already met her, but maybe she was just a classmate she had passed a couple of times in the corridors at Hogwarts. After all, Londoners were used to minding their own business there too, and she had no doubt that someone so beautiful and seemingly delicate was constantly surrounded by flocks of other adoring young women. Anyway, Lily smiled warmly at the girl, who looked to be about the same age as her, even though the similarities between them ended here: her blonde hair were a perfectly styled field of lovely golden wheat and her face was angular, a rather sharp contrast with Lily’s roundness.

 “Is this your first season?” she asked, already friendly.

Both Lily and Petunia nodded.

“How lucky!” she exclaimed. “I attended a few parties last year and may I say they were a bit… boring? Everything was so new the first time, but by the end of spring I already remembered everyone’s name. This way, I thought I could get an excellent match, but as you may see by yourself, I’m still unmarried.”

As Marlene spoke, Mrs. Evans glanced at her son, who kept flirting madly with the Italian opera singer, and frowned.

Lily felt something very uneasy in her stomach: according to recent issues of The Queen of the Quills, Mrs. Evans was on a mission to get her son married off, and while he didn’t seem the sort of man to bend to his mother’s will, or anyone’s, for the matter, she had a feeling the woman would be able to exert quite a bit of pressure is she so chose. Maybe that was why he was so intent on courting her.

After a few more moments of polite chatter, the Evans left Mrs. Potter to greet the rest of her guests and were soon accosted by Mrs. Bones, who, as the mother of three daughters, two still unmarried, always had a lot to say to Elizabeth – she had long declared herself on a first-name basis with the Evans – although that day her gaze was firmly focused on Lily, who immediately began to assess possible escape routes.

“What a surprise to see you there!” boomed the stout woman, leaving her interlocutor puzzled. “Gossip said you were ill.”

“Don’t worry, it was nothing that serious,” Lily retorted, with a weak smile. How Amelia had managed to become a pleasant person to have around with a family like hers Lily just couldn't explain.

“From what I heard, you contracted it in a rather serious way,” Mrs. Bones added, brows rising a good half inch. It was evident she knew, maybe she was even at the scene, but there was really no need to talk about it at the Potter’s.

“A way of little consequence, as you can see,” Lily countered firmly, although she was finding it difficult not to growl at the meddlesome woman.

Mrs. Bones opened her mouth, a sharp intake of breath telling she was preparing to launch into a lengthy monologue on the topic of the importance of good deportment, or good manners, or good breeding, but her youngest promptly interrupted her, offering to fetch lemonade for everyone.

“Lily, would you be so kind as to help me?” she asked, turning to the one she set out to save. “Unfortunately, I still don’t have enough hands to carry all those glasses.”

Lily tried not to appear too eager to accept, but everyone must’ve noticed their urgency to flee from how quickly they walked away, dodging those present with skill.

“Thank you,” she murmured to her saviour once they reached the lemonade stand and grabbed four glasses, for everyone except Petunia, who said she wasn’t thirsty.

“I know how my mother can be, I’m usually her favourite victim, so since I could avoid you what would’ve sounded like a lecture from an almost stranger, I took advantage of it. I’m sure somehow she would’ve found the opportunity to insert me into the conversation just to define me an impertinent social failure,” replied the other, and although a part of Lily wanted to pity her for that cruel fate – no mother should behave like that with her daughter – another part told her not to do so, because the girl needed an ally, not yet another young lady looking at her like a hopeless cause.

“Can we go back for a glass for ourselves?” asked Amelia as soon as they reunited with their families, and her mother nodded in a matter that told Lily everyone must know her youngest wasn’t her favourite.

“Why don’t we go out for a bit of fresh air? Since we’re together, we don’t need a chaperone,” suggested the redhead, who wanted a little more space to investigate on what the wizarding society really thought of Mr. Potter. Was he a hypocrite? A scoundrel? Or even a liar? Had he by chance deluded women and then abandoned them without any prospect? Did he have bastards? She didn't know why she cared so much, after all he probably believed her a menace to society, or he wouldn’t have acted as he was doing with Miss Rosso, still she needed to know if it was the norm or just a game to get back at her. So she asked, rather forward, as she and her friend sank into a cushioned bench about ten yards from the music room. They remained there for several minutes, more than pleased with the comfortable intimacy of their gossip, until they heard one particular voice rise slightly above the low rumble of the crowd, followed by decidedly musical laughter. After a shared look of realization, they hitched up their skirts by a few inches to save themselves from tripping and ducked into the doorway next to the bench, hoping Mr. Potter and his paramour would walk on by, and they could scoot back into the music room and laugh about their little adventure. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, they realized they were in some sort of office, with walls lined with books, although not enough to be a library, the place dominated by a massive oak desk with papers laid on top of it in neat piles. Clearly the place was lived, not just for show, and as curiosity got the better of them, they wandered toward the desk, Lily running her fingers along the wooden rim. The air still smelled faintly of ink, and maybe the slightest hint of pipe smoke. All in all, she decided, it was a lovely room, comfortable and practical, a place a person could spend hours in lost in lazy contemplation, but just as she was about to lean back against the desk, savouring the quiet solitude exuding from the place, she heard and awful sound. The doorknob clicked, and with a frantic gasp, Amelia disappeared, leaving her with no other option than dive under the desk, squeezing herself into the empty cube of space and thanking the heavens that it was completely solid rather than the short that rested on four spindly legs. Barely breathing, she listened, cursing herself for not taking Apparition class seriously.

“I had heard this would be the year we would finally see the notorious Mr. Potter fall into the parson’s mousetrap,” came a lilting feminine voice. Lily bit her lip, recognizing the Italian accent.

“And where did you hear that?” came James’ unmistakable voice, followed by another awful click of the doorknob that made Lily shut her eyes in agony. She was trapped in the office with a pair of lovers. Life simply couldn’t get any worse than this, unless she was discovered, though it didn’t make her feel much better about her present predicament.

“It’s all over town,” Maria replied. “Everyone is saying you have decided to settle down and choose a bride.”

There was a silence, but Lily could swear she could hear him shrug: “It’s probably past time.”

“You are breaking my heart, did you know?” she asked, making Lily nearly gag.

“Now, my sweet signorina, we both know that your heart is impervious to any of my machinations,” Mr. Potter murmured, and Lily pictured him as close as they were before, his lips nearly on her skin, because next came a rustling sound, which she took to be Maria pulling coyly away to state she wasn’t inclined for a dalliance.

“I don’t look for marriage, of course, that would be most foolish, but when I next choose a protector, it shall be for, shall we say, the long term,” she added, low and husky.

“I fail to see the problem.”

“Your future wife may not.”

“The only reason to give up one’s mistress is if one happens to love one’s wife,” Mr. Potter chuckled. “And as I don’t intend to choose a wife with whom I might fall in love, I see no reason to deny myself the pleasure of a lovely woman like you.”

Lily tried to imagine the reaction of the couple if she jumped out of her hiding place, screaming like a madwoman, asking what made him think she was the right match if that was his plan from the start. It nearly made her laugh, and at the same time she wanted to cry, because there was no way she could make the entrance she wished to make when she was squatting like a frog with her hands wrapped around her ankles. A few unintelligible sounds distracted her from her fantasies, and she dearly prayed they weren’t a prelude to something considerably more intimate. After a moment, though, Mr. Potter’s voice emerged clearly, asking to the singer if she cared for something to drink. Maria murmured her assent, and James’ forceful stride echoed along the floor, growing closer and closer, until he came into view, his athletic frame displayed to surprising benefit from her vantage point on the floor. If he just kept his face to the window as he poured, she might escape detection, but if he turned so much as halfway she would be as good as dead, for she had no doubt he would kill her. Frankly, she was surprised he hadn’t tried last week at the Serpentine.

“Is everything all right?” Maria called out, when Mr. Potter clinked the tumblers slightly together as he set them down before pouring two fingers of amber liquid into each glass.

“Perfect,” he answered, although he sounded vaguely distracted, like a dog sniffing the air around in search of his prey. Maybe that was why Lily froze and stopped breathing completely, eyes wide and unblinking, as he started to hum slightly to himself and his body slowly began to turn.

Keep walking, she screamed in her head, keep walking to your lover and don’t look back.

But it didn't go that way, and she watched with complete and utter horror as his eyes scanned her starting from her shoes and pinned her where she was.

__________________

James knew quite well why he’d brought Maria Rosso back to his study. Surely no warm-blooded man could be immune to the charm of her lush body and her intoxicating voice, and he knew from experience that her touch was equally potent, but even as he took in that silky sable hair and those full, pouting lips, even as his muscles tightened at the memory of other full, pouting parts of her body, he knew he was using her. He felt no guilt in that regard – she was using him as well, and she would at least be compensated for it, whereas he would be out several jewels, a quarterly allowance, and the rent on a fashionable townhouse in a fashionable part of town – no, if he felt uneasy and frustrated, if he felt like he wanted to put his damned fist though a brick wall, it was because he was using Maria to banish the nightmare that Lily Evans was from his mind. He never wanted to wake up hard and tortured again, knowing she was the cause, he just wanted to drown himself in another woman until the very memory of his recurring dream dissolved and faded into nothingness, because Merlin knew he was never going to act on that particular erotic fantasy because he shouldn’t like her like that. The though of making love to her, and not just bedding her, made him break out in a cold sweat, even as it swirled a ripple of desire right through his gut. Bloody hell, the woman must’ve bewitched him, there could be no other explanation for the dream, and besides, even now he could swear he could smell her. It was that maddening combination of lilies and soap, that beguiling scent that had washed over him while they were in Hyde Park.

“Is everything all right?” Maria called out.

“Perfect,” James said, voice sounding tight to his own ears. He began to hum, something he’d always done to relax, and he turned, even started to take a step forward, because after all Miss Rosso was waiting for him, but the damned scent followed him and his foot hesitated in midair, his step forward proved to be a small one instead of his usual long stride, and he kept turning, his nose instinctively twisting his eyes toward where he knew there couldn’t be lilies until he saw her under his desk, crouching like a frog. It was a wonder he didn’t drop the whiskey as their eyes met, and he saw hers widen with panic and fright.

Good, he thought savagely. What the hell was she doing here? Wasn’t making a scene after he doused himself in the filthy water of the Serpentine to rescue her enough for her bloodthirsty spirit? Did she need to spy on him as well?

“Maria,” he said smoothly, moving forward toward the desk until he was nearly stepping on Lily’s hand. “I have suddenly remembered an urgent matter of business that must be dealt with immediately.”

“This very night?” she asked, quite dubious.

“I’m afraid so. Allow me to walk you to the door,” he said, and although the singer’s eyes were curious, she still took his arm and forgave him for his rudeness for not taking her back to the music room.

“I am a grown woman, I believe I can manage the short distance,” she laughed, a low, sultry sound that should’ve seduced him. “And furthermore, I suspect there isn’t a woman alive who could deny you forgiveness with that smile.”

“You are of a rare kind, Maria Rosso,” he replied, hoping she couldn’t feel how far his head was from this conversation. Not too much physically, since Lily was just a few steps away, but metaphorically…

“But not, apparently, rare enough,” she murmured before floating out, finally giving James the possibility to shut the door with a decisive click, turn the key and pocked it. At the sound, Lily crawled out of her hiding place, leaning on the edge of the desk for support, apparently unable to start the much-needed explanation she had to give about her presence.

“Well?” he asked, breaking the bubble of silence.

“It was an accident!” she exclaimed. “I was sitting in the hall and I heard you coming. I was just trying to avoid you and your lover, to spare the embarrassment to everyone...”

“So you decided to invade my private office?” he asked, suspicious.

“I didn’t know it was your office. I…” she started, but was unable to finish her sentence, probably intimidated by his deliberate proximity. He could swear he was hearing the frantic beating of her heart coming from beneath the bodice.

“I think perhaps you did know this was my office,” he murmured, letting his forefinger trail down the side of her cheek. “Perhaps you didn’t seek to avoid me at all, on the contrary, you desired something else, something more… insane?”

Lily swallowed convulsively, long past the point of trying to maintain her composure.

“What do you say to that?” he asked, his finger sliding along her jawline.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t have uttered a word if her life had depended on it. He wore no gloves, he removed them during his interrupted tryst with Maria, and the touch of his skin against her was so powerful it seemed to control her body, for she breathed when he paused, stopped when he moved. He had no doubt their hearts were beating in time as his breath kissed her lips, and he smiled, victorious, when she deleted the little distance still separating them. It was evident she was an innocent who wouldn’t know what it was like to have a man so near the heat of his body seeped through her clothes, who wouldn’t recognize the first prickles of desire, nor would she understand that slow, swirling heat in the core of her being, but it was there, he could see it in her face with only one look of his experienced eyes.

James told himself that if she hadn’t kissed him, he would’ve stopped right there, left her bothered and breathless, but he knew he was lying, he knew the moment there had been barely an inch between their faces back in her house and he resisted the pull to give in to her beguiling scent only because the footman might’ve saw them. But right now, there was no chaperone, they were in the privacy of his study, her mother was probably immersed in conversation and the prickles of desire he’d meant to spark within her suddenly ignited him, sending a warm claw of need to the very tips of his toes. Although her kiss had been chaste, and rather desperate, the fingers he’d been trailing along her cheek to torture her suddenly became a hand that cupped the back of her head, and his lips took hers in an explosion of desire, making her gasp against his mouth, something he took advantage of to slide his tongue between them. She was pliant in his arms, so James pressed his suit further by allowing one of his hands to slide down her back and cup the gentle curve of her derriere.

It was madness, he knew he should stop and he damned well shouldn’t have started, but his body was racing with need and he felt so good he had no intention of letting her go. It was like when he was younger, with no care in the world, and his father was still alive, ready to rule the family and gift him with the chance to mess up without consequences a little more, and at the same time he found she possessed something that suited him like no woman ever had before. Something about her was just right, maybe her smell, or maybe the way she felt in his arms, and he knew that if he stripped off all of her clothes and took her there on the carpet on the floor of his study, she would fit underneath him, around him, just right. A low, triumphant growl emerged from James’ mouth as he moved it to her slender neck and further down, in the expanse of skin usually hidden by the bodice he moved slightly, enough to not expose her right away but still more than decency allowed. With ragged and fast breath, he pinned her to his desk, crazed, frantic, leaving small red marks wherever he sucked, regardless of the consequences.

“Do you still hate me?” he asked, and when she slightly shook her head, he cupped one of her breasts, covering it entirely with his hand. Just as he was plotting the best course back to her lips, he heard the perfectly awful sound of Sirius’ voice outside the door.

“James!” he shouted. “I know you’re here and your mother does too. She needs your assistance and asked me to tell you to stop fucking Miss Rosso.”

Miss Evans, blissfully unaware of how close she’d come to having been pleasured utterly senseless, threw a horrified look to the door.

“One of these days,” James muttered, “I’m going to have to kill him.”

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2-48 The Secret Chamber Secret

I... need to talk to someone 😭 I'm so scared and hopeless

hmm well me and fletch are larping as aureolin and lady violet again today cuz halloween

(warning this episode has some needlessly graphic descriptions don't read before eating)

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

VOICE: GOOD JOB. GOOD JOB. YOU SOLVED THE RIGHT MURDER. LOGICO: I hate that!! Why is there a robotic voice in this ANCIENT TOMB?

Pythagoras’ grave tilts upright and opens, revealing a tunnel!

LOGICO: And automation?? What the fuck- IRRATINO: [squeal] THIS IS AMAZING!!

They go creepy-crawly into the deep chamber. The further they go, the bigger it gets! And the more surreal… Irratino is in heaven.

They finally approach the end, discovering puzzles encrypted on the wall, and a broken statue of the Greek God himself. (YES I KNOW PYTHAGORAS WASN’T A GOD STFU)

But before they can reach the door, another puzzle stands in their way! (A murder.)

LOGICO: Gross. There’s nobody even here! How am I supposed to solve a murder with no suspects?

You see Logico, in the real world, homicide detectives don’t generally HAVE their suspects conveniently standing before them. But that’s beside the point. Irratino hears some muffled voices.

IRRATINO: Wait, Logico, listen!

The sound seems to be coming from a crate nearby. The two creep up on it, ready to strike, and throw open the top.

They find Seashell and Sable crammed in there in the worst positions, along with a snake.

LOGICO: OH GOD!  SEASHELL: out please SABLE: [squeaking]

Irratino struggles to pull them out. Seashell is like 7 feet tall, so all his bones crunch as he emerges and he cannot stand.

SEASHELL: I need to be… manually pressed… Logico help me… LOGICO: Absolutely not.

Sable however rolls out with ease once Seashell’s out. She uncurls to reveal an incredible purple velvet gown!

LOGICO: Oh, Sable! Where did you get that? SABLE: I’ve been travelling the world, searching for myself… and I finally found me! When Lady Violet showed me the aristocrat way, I knew I could never go back.

Logico is sad. Now she’s turned into just another one of those.

The snake comes out of the box too.

LOGICO: Were you two kept in there with that as some kind of torture chamber? SNAKE: Naur! That’s racist!

The snake has arms and legs, and is a person. She showcases her Archaeologist Ecru badge, and explains how she only wanted to steal that fresh body, but was kidnapped.

LOGICO: Who were you kidnapped by?? SEASHELL: We didn’t see. They were completely masked… SABLE: I can’t believe my quills are unstable.

Logico already can’t stand this ‘new’ Sable. Regardless of who the kidnapper was, one of these three is the murderer. And Logico doesn’t even need to prove it!

While Logico searches for clues, Ecru tries to force Seashell’s spine back into place, and Sable stands around pampering herself. Ecru throws a lump of dirt at her out of spite.

SABLE: AAH! Why did you do that?! ECRU: Because you’re a pansy. SABLE: Now I have to iron AND cleanse this dress! 

Irratino decides to obtain crucial information through palm readings. 

SABLE: No, don’t touch me! I can’t possibly have any more germs on me… LOGICO: SNAP OUT OF IT, SABLE!

It’s not that weird until Seashell makes it weird because he’s still lying on the ground. And being weird.

SEASHELL: Oh, that tickles… Would you mind punching my hand? IRRATINO: WHAT?

Ecru smashes the fish’s hand between her fists. There’s an awful crunch, like someone stomping on a corn chip.

SEASHELL: Ah, that feels so much better! [he says as his hand turns purple] LOGICO: I can’t take any more of this. You’re the killer! IRRATINO: Logico! You can’t assume that! SEASHELL: No he’s right. IRRATINO: Oh.

There’s not much point to that, and Logico pulls a lever on the wall. The door at the back of the chamber opens… revealing the greatest thing in the entire world!]

LOGICO: Irratino… do you think you can get one of your friends to let me address the Convocation of Countries? IRRATINO: [squee!] YES!

Logico is going to stop the upcoming war! (and P.S. - I don’t think that was really Pythagoras’ grave.)

The end!

me: i hate myself when i draw, I can't draw no matter how hard I try, why do I even bother

murdle2: hmm yes the perfect time to introduce a new character

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[porcelain-feather]

Take care when teaching your Doll her first lessons. The soul is a delicate thing that you have cleaved free of the cage that once held it - the edges will be ragged and raw, and if you aren't careful, they will drip caustic thoughts all over your pristine gloves as you work. Stillness is a foreign concept to mortals, but one that is essential for Dolls to understand. A single hand around the throat with the doll's back against a wall is perfect for this first lesson, careful to hold just tight enough that the Doll can feel your power without fear forcing her to try and escape on instinct. Only when she knows how to be Still can you finish the threads and complete the work on your latest masterpiece, freed from that mortal need to quiver and quake beneath the strain of living.

-M. Hallowdusk, 'The Care and Keeping of Dolls'

[world-of-pocket-arsenal]

Facts about Prince Quill

He studies magic, but fails miserably to get any of it down, with shape shifting being the only thing he can do consistently, and even then, it's only small creatures, most commonly the turtle like Atal, the Bird from which he takes his name, and an Imp, though other imps don't recognize him as one of them. He's frustrated because people much younger than him seem more adapt at Magic, including his sister and even his own tutor. He's a huge fan of a pop star from the much more advanced Kingdom of Luminopolis, Carmine Piper. He imports all his tapes and a lot of merchandise.

As a child, he grew tired of only being able to play under heavy supervision, so he slipped away from his Chaperones one day, but soon found himself in trouble when attacked by a territorial Cragodon. The aspiring hero Shino had witnessed this and stepped in to defend him, and the two have been dear friends ever since.

He was inspired by the Prince of Sable and Prince Richard, he even shares his susceptibility to flattery, and the shape shifting into small creatures is a nod to that game.

[boys-will-dismember-boys]

First post 😘☺️

Hiiii, welcome to @boys-will-dismember-boys. I’m Sable!

My url is a reference to Mystery Team Inc. and my title is from Quantum Leap. "·}" is a cyclops smiley face and my emojis are for my boyfriend 🥞♥️. My pfp is my baby dino Theo (Theodora) of the twins Nimbus (elephant) and Theo ·} (and also some pretty beautiful leaves that I found for the header #nature is beautiful).

queer and trans and gay

autistic

cute and awesome

doll, crochet, and Redwall enthusiast

General warning for nsfw (global evils) content! I’m >18

My tags 🫶🏻:

Talking/myself tag #dragon's ink. (In Storybound, the three elements to write the world are the Silver Quill, the Scroll of Fire, and the Dragon's Ink, so it's like I'm writing this "world" with the Dragon's Ink.)

#dove (wonderful boyfriend whom I love)

#fox <3

#mufaddal (fav tag as of 5/8/24)

#the library

#so true ("me irl")

#Ashley girl

#Orb facts (@renownedpillowbiter)

Table of Contents:

#ag (American Girl, dolls and 18" dolls) (here is the tag for my doll, Ashley!)

#aliens, by which I mean creature and character design

#animorphs

#art

#atlatlok (Avatar)

#autism

#crochet (I am an ardent crochet artist, see my magnum opus here!)

#current events (like my important tag, but less important)

#death note

#deltora (deltoraquest)

#dinos (/paleoart, they're not all dinos)

#dracula

#drawfee

#elephants (my favorite favorite)

#eee! (cute perfect things)

#frankenstein

#furry

#gregor the overlander (I love my children's horror)

(The Haunting of) #hill house

#important (social justice and current events)

#linguistics

#les mis (although I read all the good Les mis posts before I made the blog :()

#merlin, the BBC show

#mlp (My Little Pony)

#mti (Mystery Team Inc and this category of thing)

#nature is beautiful (we live in a beautiful world)

#quantum leap

#queer

#redwall (favorite favorite favorite)

#thoughts (reblogging life things mostly?)

#tumblr (this one is like memes I guess)

#whales

#wof (Wings of Fire)

I love you mwah, welcome 😁

[broken-clover]

11- Memento

a bit shorter today, sorry about that. This is another one that's a little less cheery than the others, so I didn't want to stretch out too much.

I like animal crossing. I haven't played it in a while because the characters remark how long you've been gone so I feel too embarrassed to pick it up again because I feel bad about it. Still, I love the characters and their charm. Sable in particular has a really interesting backstory for such a relatively lighthearted series, having to raise her own siblings alone after their parents died. I wish we could do more for her and her family. It seems like she's got a lot going on. Like I said, this one's a little less happy, but I was trying to go for a bit of catharsis. The end is still happy.

-

Though Mabel was too young to know for herself, they’d still managed to hold onto many of their parents’ old things. The hanging paintings, the blurry watercolor mugs, and the old sewing machine they still used had once belonged to their mother and father. Mabel was never very careful with them, but it was hard to chastise her for it. She didn’t have the same attachment. She barely remembered their parents at all. Sometimes, Sable envied that.

Still, when she asked with those wide, curious eyes, she’d share fond old memories. Sable would dredge up soft snapshots of a life that still felt perfectly real at times, even after so long. Their mother carrying baby Mabel around before she learned to walk. Tottering in their father’s too-big shoes until he found them and laughed at the sight. Trying to help with the sewing, back when their paws were too small to even hold a seam ripper properly.

Sable didn’t resent her place in life. The two of them had made something lovely, even if it wasn’t the life they’d expected. Their tailor shop was a flourishing business, ever more popular with the townsfolk with every passing season. Finances were hardly an issue, and, even if they were, sweet old Tom was always happy to lend a paw when they needed it. They were content.

It did little for the days when Sable awoke with an ache in her chest.

On the rougher mornings, she would hobble down the stairs and into the main floor of the tailor shop. It always felt as though something was calling out to her, whispering her name. The old quilt hung on the wall by her sewing machine. She undid the pins and took it down.

After so many washes to clean it, there wasn’t much of a smell anymore. Sable still buried her face in it and pretended that it carried the fragrance of someone else’s quills. It was a big blanket, designed to drape along the back of a wide sofa- or to cover an entire family as they sat together. Far too big for one single hedgehog. The fabric bunched and pooled around on all sides in its own little lake of tapestry.

She was familiar with the little flaws it hid away within. One spot by the left-top corner had a crooked stitch, only visible if you pushed the material back to look at the line carefully. One side of the pattern was just slightly smaller than the other. A tiny bit of batting poked though the back where there hadn’t been enough material to fully enclose it.

(Sable had once noticed the mistake and asked her mother about it. With a coy smile, she’d said that she planned to fix it, but just hadn’t found the time to do it just yet)

Fixing it now didn’t feel right. Even the flaws were a memory.

The window shutters were closed, as they would be for a few more hours. She spared herself the moment of indulgence, sitting by the wall while wrapped up in her mother’s quilt.

Sable couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she was awoken by the overhead lights. She rubbed the blurriness from her eyes, and found Mabel standing at the foot of the stairs, looking on.

“Wha- “ Mabel blinked in confusion. “What’re you doing out here? You're not in bed?”

She winced in embarrassment. Getting spotted hadn’t been the plan. All she had wanted to do was take the quilt down, hold it for a bit, and put it back without anyone realizing anything. She had to look pathetic.

Despite that, Mabel padded closer, eyes soft with sympathy. “What’s wrong, sis…?”

Even if it was embarrassing, she didn’t want to be alone right now. Sable coaxed her sister under the quilt with her. Neither said anything for a while. They only sat.

“...Do you miss mom and dad a lot today?”

She nodded.

Mabel leaned over and let her head rest on her sister’s shoulder. “Yeah. Me too. Do you wanna do a half-day today? We don’t have to get up yet.”

That sounded nice.

[skxrbrand]

My Architect.

A voice like honey, like acid, curls around the ear of the groggy Deathbringer of Khorne, Kha’xanzyr. Had it not been so familiar, the Architect would have sworn he had imagined it. He would’ve blamed it on the lack of sleep over the days. Sunrises and sunsets and not a moment of rest. Not for him. Not for the Simmering One; for rest was a mortal thing and he was not mortal.

Come to me. Come into my realm. Lay down, next to me, by my side beloved master.

Comes the voice again, tempting and chiding. It was the Daemon he had bound to his axe, Havoc, all those eons ago. It had sensed his weakness and like any hungry predator, it has stirred from it’s rest to run him down. Kha’xanzyr rose a lip.

“ Be silent.” Growled the Greater Daemon, with less bite than he would’ve preferred. A chuckle was his response.

Such spice. But this is a losing battle, Bluebird. Nothing you can plan around or rage through. You will be mine, eventually.

Kha’xanzyr flicked an ear, but it did nothing to throw off their voice. The eye in the middle of his axe looked at him, knowing and hungry and he felt the heaviness of sleep settle over him tenfold when he returned it’s gaze. He fought, but the day faded away, the night became darker, and wakefulness fled from him. And when next he opened his eyes, there they were just like the last time. The last times.

Sla'thill'or'kilak'ki the Many-Quilled, Haunter of his Dreams and Nightmares.

They were a powerful Keeper of Secrets, a Slayer of Slaanesh cowled and sabled in darker hues that bled into silvery pastel colors around their chest and belly and thighs. Their skin was pierced here with rings and studs and covered there with impossibly fine silks and garments. A pair of magnificent, curling horns rose from their elongated, beast-like head and they beheld him with black jewel-like eyes, each glittering with painful promises. Quills, many more than usually found on a Slaaneshi, jutted from their skull, shoulders, and even their back, curving backwards like great scything claws. The Keeper was draped over a chaise-lounge, one as curving and sinuous as the beasts own body. They were beautiful, they were disturbing, a monster that would make a gibbering fool of any mortal.

Kha’xanzyr was glad he was no such thing at all.

They rose, silks falling over them in an oh-so pleasing way as they did, and began to sway in his direction. The Be-Quilled was massive, many more feet than the Bloodthirster, and he himself was large for his kind. The dreamscape was formed partial to their liking; a lavish palace like the one Kha’xanzyr had snatched them from, complete with servants, handmaidens, luxury and finery. But a glance outside and a test of the air would reveal fire and the smell of death. If one listened, they could hear the distant clamor of battle, of swords clanging against one another, again and again. A paradise, in the midst of hellscape. The dreams of a Bloodthirster, marred by the sleep-magics of a Daemon of Slaanesh.

“ That is close enough. What do you want?”

Kilak’ki grinned at the Bloodthirster, leaning down so they were eye height with him. He wrinkled his snout.

“ Do I need to want something? Is it not simply enough to desire to speak with my favorite Khak'akaoz'khyshk'akami? You’ve been ignoring me lately.”

“ I have been busy.”

“Busy.” The Keeper parroted mockingly, grinning once more, “ Yes, yapping at the heels of the Reaper... No, no, that is your brother. Yes, you cannot even yap. He has stolen your tongue from you by pact, I almost forgot.”

“ Perhaps,” Kha’xanzyr stepped forward. Fury was in his eyes. The smell of burning grew more potent. “ I will steal yours.”

“ No need, my Bluebird. My tongue is all yours, all for you~” Crooned the Keeper in response, pushing themselves into Kha’xanzyr’s space as well. A show of fearlessness. And, the proximity made their soporifics that much more potent. Kha'xanzyr's anger bled away as he breathed it in, dimming to a more manageable level. Eventually, Kilak’ki grew tired of the staring content, drawing back up to sip of their wine.

“ Auspicious that I get to sample your suffering from straight the tap. The Arch-Tempter would be green with envy if they knew. And that is just the one thing.” Kha’xanzyr looked at the taller daemon in askance and they flashed him a knowing smile in return. And with that smile, the Architect knew of what they spoke. Of what they had unearthed the first time Kha’xanzyr had surrendered to sleep. The Architect looked away, folded back his ears. It did nothing to drown out the former Ring-Lords chuckle.

“ It should have been you. You wouldn’t have failed. Tzeentch was a fool to pick the dumb brute of a Reaper over you. Yes, yes he was.” Hisses the voice in his ear, the Daemon walking a predatory circle around him. “ It takes more than brawn. More than brain. You have both. My Bluebird wouldn’t have failed. And Tzeentch likely knew that. He knew it and didn’t choose you because it would have been easier facing the Blood God or even his foolish favorite rather than a creature with fury and the intelligence to apply it cleverly.”

Poison words. Kha’xanzyr knew. But they sounded good and they sounded true. Yes, he was only the third strongest, but wasn’t strength so much more deadly when paired with strategy? That was true and he had seen it in action himself. How many foolish Deathbringers had met their end trusting only their rage? Where had pure anger led them but into the jaws of death? To disappoint Khorne? 

Dimly, he realized there was a weight on his shoulders. Arms wound about him, their quills prickling at his brass flesh. Kilak’ki had slithered in front of him, peering deep into his blue eyes with their silver ones. They drank deep of the envy and outrage pouring off of him by proximity alone, all but leaning on the smaller daemon. Closer, ever closer, quill-bound lips press into Kha’xanzyr’s snout, spines eating into the flesh there and a daring tongue flickering past a sentinel of pointed, rending teeth-- 

That was woke the Daemon up and quite literally. Blue eyes snapped open, Kha’xanzyr coming alive with a start. Weapon drawn, electricity crawling along his skin and straying along the ground, singing soil and grass and whatever unlucky daemon it had touched. His breath was short, panicked, his eyes wild with terror and fury. Despite sitting away from the rest of the host, the episode hadn’t gone unnoticed. Khazaan was coming over, his four wings delivering him with speed and swiftness. The Architect growled as the smaller Daemon landed next to him, his own axe in hand.

“ Where is the foe?” He said, glancing around in surprise, his face slowly melting into confusion. Kha’xanzyr sneered.

“There is no foe.” He answered. After a moment, he added, “ And I am fine. Just unused to this....mortal sleep.”

And it’s consequences.

“ Resume your guard. Skarbrand does not tolerate disobedience from thralls, brother.”