Luna

I’ve finally done it. I’ve made another social media account to keep up with my KPDH fixation 🙂‍↕️ Avatar by @SaltySands2 on Twitter!

[princington]

FK I love so much (honestly just your art in general is my favorite) but I'm also really struggling with it because I am still recovering from a Poly-ish situation that exploded due to communication malfunction. Is everyone going to be ok or do I need to like leave for a while?

thank you anon, though i'm afraid this isn't something i'm going to be able to answer definitively for you. things will be okay, but i don't know how well i can advise for the in between

[ghostgrlonfirst]

from dremenec's post

[0nkret]

The world is a strange place. Stay silent too long and it folds around you, dimming you like a candle swallowed by fog, letting your traces sink beneath layers of dust that no one remembers. You try to speak, because something inside you insists on being heard, yet the world shies away from voices that echo too brightly, too honestly, too close to whatever a soul truly is.

So you shape masks out of quiet nights and borrowed smiles, each one fitting just enough to pass, each one soft enough not to disturb anything. You learn to mute your joy, your strangeness, your colors.

You learn to mute yourself.

Pieces of you fall away like petals in slow motion, just so you can keep moving.

And somewhere along the way, your soul grows quiet, so quiet you almost forget the sound it used to make.

[yanniest]

Ao3 author spotlight: ovenglovee!

hello i'm back to hold you at gun point and tell you to read ovenglovee's work.

she's among my favourite authors in any fandom for a reason, and that's because her writing and character analysis is absolutely breathtaking. she weaves metaphors into the narrative perfectly (more on that later) and gives them room to stretch out and get comfortable in a way that i aspire to achieve. an absolute master at her craft, and a genuine delight, even when her fics make me cry so hard i get headaches sometimes.

bloodhound [E] [Rumira] [Ongoing]

Mira and Rumi are pretty torn up after the Idol Awards. They have sex about it. It’s about as messy as you'd imagine.

i'm actually unwell about this fic. it's an incredible character study on Mira and her animal need to be useful. i've never seen this backstory for her before but it makes perfect sense, and it's so cleverly linked to how she behaves around Rumi.

their relationship is extremely messy and complicated but it's perfectly characterised and i'm so sympathetic to both of them. they're both so hurt and unfamiliar with being loved

this may, at its core, be about Mira, but Rumi is incredible in this fic too. she's that perfect mix of very confident and just a little bit pathetic.

so many lines from this one are looping in my head constantly.

after the tone [T] [Rumira] [Complete]

You have 64 voicemails from: Mira. Press 1 to play.

god i can barely speak on this one. it's main character death, and it is devastating, so be warned.

it's told in the form of voicemails left by Mira before and after Rumi died and there's so much emotion and information across in just dialogue and descriptions of sounds.

it took me ages to read this because i knew MCD written by ovenglovee would take me out with it and i wasn't wrong at all but if you have the stomach for it, bring some tissues.

faultlines [T] [Polytrix] [Complete]

faultline (noun) a line on a rock surface or the ground that traces a geological fault. an area of a system that seems weak and likely to cause problems or failure. a divisive issue or difference of opinion that is likely to have serious consequences.

hoooooly shit, faultlines. this one also made me sob so be warned again.

did you watch the movie and think the fact that all those people on the train dying wasn't addressed sufficiently? look no further. this is the fic for looking into the impact of that on Rumi in particular.

when i think about ovenglovee's mastery over extended metaphors, this is the fic i think of. the concept of one small thing causing absolute devastation is woven tightly into the story throughout and it's perfect. i'm still stunned by how incredible it is.

if found, please return to [M] [Polytrix] [Complete]

A soft Rumi character study featuring cows, colours and collars.

this and its E-rated sequel, damaged goods, handle with care, is probably the fic you recognise the author for, and it's an incredible character study on Rumi and her need for rules, punishment, and praise.

despite the rating this isn't actually a very smutty fic. there's a lot of focus on non-sexual kink, and it's the first time i've seen that explored in a fic. it rearranged my brain chemistry on how kink can be used as a character study and i've never been the same since.

also, she loves cows. this isn't related to the kink she just thinks they're neat. moomi is real.

on every shore, in every life [T] [Rumira] [Complete]

Mira, Rumi and the ocean over the years.

another excellent character study of both Mira and Rumi. i'm trying not to repeat myself too much but once again, perfect metaphors. this feels like it's as much a love letter to the ocean as it is to Rumira and I mean that in the best way possible.

its sequel, sea glass, is also incredible. i love it when people give Mira a weird relationship with her brother and this is exactly that, plus a delve into Mira and Celine's relationship and their similarities.

extremely soft and sweet, even with a difficult subject matter. i don't know how ovenglovee does it.

frostbitten [T] [Polytrix] [Complete]

In which Rumi learns to love and be loved.

this and its sequel sunkissed are another set of absolutely incredible Rumi character studies done through extended metaphors and beautiful prose. the imagery of rot and how Rumi feels it applies to her is, once again, masterful and devastating.

and, of course, all that hurt is met with equally soft comfort. Mira and Zoey love Rumi so much and it's so clear in this fic.

please please please read ovenglovee's works. i cannot express enough how much i admire her writing.

[art-the-f-up]

I've been studying old miniature for a while now but I forgot I learned that one of the elements in persian illumination is called Eslimi and it's a floral, leaf like design usually drawn in the centre of the composition

Another name for Eslimi is Rumi. and Rumi is usually a part of a pattern. Get it? Nevermind

[cariykon]

fanart of @somethinglikesawyer's fic i had it all (i had you)

i was crying like a baby. i started crying somewhere at the beginning and didn't stop until i finished. actually no i stopped crying a WHILE after i finished. 100/10 would recommend

girdle your loins, this fic was so good and broke my heart in two then stepped on it to break it some more and THEN set the remaining dust particles on fire

[lengthy-artery]

discord letting you have custom emoji has really ruined my ability to communicate effectively on other apps. what do you mean i cant send jalute. what about givehand. cryingpat. torment. sittinghere. tvek. cant even send my wonderful beloved frogheart. whats the bloody point

[sandgthesequal]

Some rumira buns for the folks that won’t let me forget I am the sole artists for bunnytrix (which I know of) and that I draw one smexy hare Mira.

[andry-di]

'cause she's a simp.

Inspired by this and another comics I'm still trying to find again

[andry-di]

[eunnieboo]

pink in the night

[melynnwaters]

babe are you alright? you just reblogged eunnieboo’s pink in the night comic again

[daniju-attart]

Huntrix

[secondtolastrow]

Blood cult au parts one, two, three (make sure to read @grundpfeiler’s addition at the end there, I am keeping that in on the back burner)

Thus far: college student Zoey got kidnapped by cultists and watched unwilling cult member Mira get beaten in her defense before they awakened not so ancient, not so evil Rumi. While the three made it out that night, Mira was abducted by her brother when Zoey and Rumi briefly left her alone, leading to Gwi-Ma being summoned and taking Rumi into his realm. Mira and Zoey have recruited shaman Celine to help them fix the situation.

Mira wakes up on the ocean. Still in the parked car, yeah, but on the ocean.

Zoey is flopped on top of her, and it hurts so bad but Mira doesn’t want to move. Takes a moment, after that, for her brain to remember what she’d done to earn that beating.

Her breath hitches involuntarily.

Thankfully, no one is there to hear it.

She looks back at Zoey, who is so soft and so stupidly brave and really didn’t deserve to get wrapped up in all this. The dawn sunlight, even filtering through fog, makes her look almost golden.

The car door opens. Mira turns her head too quickly to look, hissing as pain shoots through her face and neck.

Celine looks at her, and then fishes the bottle of painkillers back out from the center console to pass back along with one of the drinks she’s gotten.

Soup in a drink cup, actually. Mira figures she’s lucky that there’s even anything for her here at all, given the hollow feeling of her stomach, and she hates to ask, but—

She carefully maneuvers around Zoey to shake a few pills out onto her palm and mimes grinding them up, before pointing to the water bottle up by Celine.

“I’ll get it,” Celine says softly. “Pass those back.”

So Mira does, sipping awkwardly at her soup.

She knows she must look like a rainbow of pain by now, bruises fully developed, but Celine doesn’t say anything. She wonders what the people outside the car think.

She pulls back up the notes on her phone—mostly Zoey’s ideas, really, and tries to think of anything to add, but all the pain isn’t exactly conducive to thinking.

There’s something almost rhythmic in their little list, has her humming as she fuzzily rereads she misses the stars, could we give them back?

(Hey, she did say almost.)

“You must have a nice voice,” Zoey says sleepily.

Mira stiffens.

Which—fuck!—hurts even more.

[frozenwolftemplar]

Once again, Zoey's brain lagged about three seconds too late behind her mouth. The second it caught up- about the time Mira went stiff like she'd just sat on a thumbtack- it clicks.

SHIT!!!!

She jolts upright, Mira jerking out of the way just in time to avoid Zoey cracking her head against her jaw, a motion that unfortunately causes her to groan in pain.

SHIT AGAIN!!!!

(You just can't stop, can you? Being too much even when someone else depends on you to not)

"Sorry sorry sorry!" Zoey gushes as Mira groans and presses a hand to her jaw, now swirled with murky purples and nauseating greenish-browns. Her hands flutter as they look for- she doesn't know, something to do to help. She starts rummaging below the seats and in the pouches on the back. "Um, here, let me just-"

She'd never thought about it before, but more cars should carry first-aid kits; all she finds are a couple of maps (who uses maps anymore?), boxes of chalk, and a receipt for the knockout drugs she'd been slammed with (oh, so that's what they gave her).

Worthless junk.

(Just like you)

"Here." Zoey looks up and Celine's turned around in her seat and pressing an instant cold-pack into Zoey's hands. "Can you activate this?"

Celine, Zoey's sure, is perfectly capable of snapping and shaking the thing herself, but Zoey wants to- no, needs to- be useful so she nods rapidly and sets about breaking the sound barrier as she shake shake shake shake shakes the thing into sub-zero temperatures (not that they actually can get that cold, because if they did they'd burn like dry ice, which- no! Focus! No tangents!)

She waits until Celine's finished passing Mira a bottle of water laced with painkillers to offer her the icepack. "Here. Nice and frosty! And, um." She picks at her cuticles as Mira arranges the ice pack against the worst of the bruising. "Just- forget the thing I said before I nearly broke your jaw a second time. It's- my mouth just has a mind of its own sometimes and says the stupidest shit. Should probably see about getting that wired shut." She gives a little self-deprecating chuckle, the kind that always smoothed things over back in high school. Make yourself the butt of the joke before they do it for you.

(Not like that made anyone like you. Who would want to spend more time than they need to with you? Mira- Rumi too- they'd never have chosen you if they had that option).

"No. This sucks. And your shit isn't stupid."

Zoey looks up at the flat monotone from Mira's phone (she really should see if her settings had more voice options; maybe something that didn't sound like HAL). Mira's giving her as stern a look as she can manage with a bruised jaw and icepack. She presses a button so the phone reads the message again and gives it an insisten little shake, message clear.

Before Zoey can say anything about pain and meds affecting Mira's judgment Celine speaks up. "She's right. I was listening to you on the ride down; you have a lot of good ideas for drawing Rumi back. And you're right." She smiles brilliantly. "Mira probably does have a very nice voice. As do you."

Mira nods, the bruises colored like a bunch of Crayola rejects shimmering as she actually smiles (or, well, as much as she can).

Welp. That's it. Zoey's dead. Bury her at sea or something. Tell her parents a hot woman said she liked her voice and that did her in. (honestly not the worst way to go).

Except they still had to get Rumi back so she pulls herself together and motions for the phone to review their list. "What do you think, Celine?" she asks, turning it towards the shaman. She said her and Mira knew her best, but, well, Celine's known about her longer than them, so that had to count for something, right?

Celine looks at the list, actually considering it. "I think you may be on to something with this." She points to 'iPod (does anyone still have one?)' "In the legends, she's always loved music. And she has an extensive collection of gayageum at her home."

It's like a lightbulb bursts on- BLAM!- in Zoey's head. Of course! That was what drew her to Bobby and Ji-Hoon in the first place!

Next to her, Mira's eyes are shining with- Zoey can tell- the same idea.

[secondtolastrow]

Mira had never enjoyed the family business—even before realizing it was something genuinely evil happening whenever they brought out those robes, she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the long, boring rituals that always set her father off when they didn’t work out how he wanted.

And now here she was, doing her best to explain the basics of summoning to Zoey as they drove up to Celine-slash-Rumi’s house, wishing she’d paid more attention to all her parents’ lessons.

(What happened to those high and mighty principles? And you can’t even do something helpful now. You should stop before you ruin everything.)

“One person does all the invocation. Everyone else is just there for power,” the phone explains. It sounds harsh. Flat. Overly forward.

But that’s just Mira, isn’t it?

“Names and titles are good—something like Rumi, the purple-haired one.” The pace doesn’t change. It sounds awkward. Celine starts to say something, but Mira doesn’t know how to pause a message. “The second part is an offering. Everything is hungry, so we have to offer something to eat, or nothing will come.”

(They’re her mother’s words, she realizes. She wants to erase them and start over.)

(She can’t.)

“The third part is binding. Something to keep what you’ve summoned where you want it. That’s usually what the runes are for. Questions?” Mira raises her eyebrows. Her face hurts at even that.

“So many!” Zoey bounces in her seat, grinning. She’s like sunshine.

Why the hell is she stuck with someone like Mira?

“There are a few epithets in the stories,” Celine says, not looking back. “I’m sure you’ll be able to help determine which ones are most suitable.”

“Ooh,” Zoey says, “yeah, how would that work, do you think? Like, is it about what helps us think of her or what would mean her for Rumi?”

Helplessly, Mira shrugs. The one thing she brings to the table, and she can’t even do this awful shit right.

[gveret-fic]

Celine’s house is quiet and tidy, with traditional, minimalist decor, a calming atmosphere, and no ugly carpets in sight.

Mira looks around. She can imagine Rumi sprawled happily in the hammock strung between the trees, or kneeling on the floor to carefully replace a loose floorboard. She would fit here comfortably.

“What the fuuuck,” Zoey says, craning her neck to take in the intricate structure of the roof’s purlins. “Okay, fine, this is nicer than my dorm room.”

Mira smirks.

“I’m gonna check how many beds they have!” 

“Make yourself at home,” Celine says generously even as Zoey's already out of the room. “I'll set up the materials.”

Mira eyes the collection of gayageum. It is quite extensive, although they are all, unsurprisingly, the traditional 12-string of the pungryu gayageum. They're all beautifully maintained and look ready to play. 

Mira carefully folds herself down to sit on the floor in front of one of them. Oof. That shit hurt. Only worth it for this gorgeous instrument. She runs her fingers along the polished grain of the wood. 

“Do you play?” Celine asks her.

Mira nods. “You’d be surprised how many traditional instruments are included in a cult’s homeschool curriculum,” her phone says for her.

Celine quirks an eyebrow at her. “One or more?” 

“One or more,” agrees Mira’s phone. 

She plucks a few strings. It’s beautifully tuned. She closes her eyes, and plays.

The tension of the strings is perfect. They vibrate against her fingertips and through her whole body. She remembers sitting on the floor alongside her brother. Playing together, harmonizing. The closest approximation of love Mira can remember. 

Without conscious thought, her fingers pluck the slow, haunting sounds of a mourning melody. Her breath synchronizes with the rise and fall of the music, and her heart along with it. 

“That was beautiful,” Zoey says, her voice breathy, as Mira’s hands still. “Also, they definitely have more than two beds.”

Zoey really knows how to torment a girl who can't laugh on pain of ow. 

“Shall we?” Celine prompts, uncovering the chicken, which blinks awake with a disgruntled bwak. 

Mira reluctantly extricates herself from beneath the gayageum. They have more important shit to do. 

[secondtolastrow]

Jinu smiles at her, soft and slow. “Rumi. It is well.”

He does not get up out of the dirt. Where she left him.

She shakes her head, breathless, stumbling yet backwards.

Rumi thinks she is going to be ill. Blood has soaked through all her strange clothing; it is tacky and warm wherever she feels it. She hurt him. Hurt him, again and again and it felt—

She thinks of Zoey, of Mira. She doesn't need another ass kicking, please? O ancient and evil one? The way Mira’s face looked, beaten and broken and a little bloody, and how Rumi just hadn’t noticed. Too busy seeing red.

“You are what you are, Rumi,” Jinu says, ever so gently. “You did not choose. I should not care.”

Everything spins. This is a thoroughly unpleasant place.

(Jinu—the real Jinu, her beloved friend—hadn’t told her why he did what he did, down in the cave. Just turned away as she screamed. She wants to kill him for it.)

“Do not lie to me,” she snarls, unable to stop herself. “Not again.”

She is what she is. She is blood and power and the endless, starless night of this land, her blood dripping down into its acidic dust.

But he cares very deeply, she is certain.

Jinu starts to shake his head, but—right in her ear, a bell jingles. Rumi jumps from the sound, lashing out at her side, finds only empty air.

She shoots a wary look at Jinu.

“What?” he says, casually pushing up on his elbows. “I have not lied, Rumi. I have no reason left for it. I am what I am, too.”

The bells jingle again, and Rumi looks away, frowning.

It almost sounds as if someone were calling her name from a great distance. Someone familiar.

She only realizes that she had begun to walk towards it when not-Jinu grabs her hand, scowling.

“We were in the middle of a conversation, my friend.”

[frozenwolftemplar]

It's like the touch of a corpse, the hand on her arm, but it still causes the memories to bloom.

Sun dapples dancing across their hands as they sat under her apple trees, plucking melodies on a gayageum to harmonize with the cicadas.

Their feet stirring puffs of dust into the air as they trod along the road to the village, shoulders heavy with buckets of fresh spring water but voices light as they composed poems on the spot.

His curled finger under her chin, tipping her face up against the weight of- everything to find his own, awash in moonlight and confidence that became her own.

And the cave.

"JINU!!! JINU WHAT DID YOU- AUGH!!!!"

The bindings across her skin seared as they had when they were new as she jerked from his grasp. "You have long ago lost the right to call me that!"

The bell's still ringing, still calling, still pulling her...somewhere. But Jinu's still at her side, aggravating presence pinning her in place even though his hand's fallen away.

He's not Jinu, she keeps reminding herself. He's not. He's not! But-

"Are we really so different, though?"

But there's enough of him in the wraith to make it hard.

He folds his arms, looking her up and down, eyes trickling along the blood curling in a rivulet down her arm. "Look at you. The fallen hero."

There's no scoff in the words, no mocking; just that mournful inflection she remembered him using when they found an abandoned cross-eyed kitten in a ditch. She ignores it- forces herself to- and listens for the bell. It's ringing harder now, more insistent, and the familiar feeling grows with it, stirring images of pink hair and starry freckles in her soul.

She takes a step.

"Hands burned with blood."

Another step, not quite as long, not quite as sure.

"Do you really think they'll want you, when they see what you are? What you've done?"

Keep going, keep marching, listen to the bell, the bell, the bell. Step. Step. Step.

"I know you can feel it. They will, too. They will wake up and realize that you were warded and sealed for a reason."

...Step.

===

Celine frowned, the air still vibrating with the most recent strike of hammer against bell.

Next to her, Zoey fidgeted in place, taking care not to scuff the intricately drawn chalk marks; Mira's hands clench on the gayageum they'd carefully selected from the collection. They've been at this for half an hour already and nothing's changed except she's pretty sure the chicken's fallen asleep.

When Mira's erstwhile family did this whole summoning thing, the results were instant. Microwave popcorn, if you will.

This is more like artisan batch kettle corn; taking forever as you're being eaten alive with hunger.

At first she'd just chalked it up to not-evil summoning taking longer but now, watching Celine, she can tell.

Something's wrong.

[secondtolastrow]

Zoey’s voice is like air.

It feels as if Rumi has been underwater, in fog, aflame—trapped in the oppressive weight of Gwi-Ma—but Zoey’s voice calling her name is cool, fresh air.

“Rumi!”

She finds the energy to move her feet forward again, the false words turning to dust before they reach her ears. What could this wraith matter when Zoey is calling out to her?

“Rumi, come on,” Zoey begs, and Rumi starts to run as the fog fades around her—she’s so close, suddenly, right on the edge of coming home to them.

She never could resist a fair maiden with a beautiful smile.

As though an answered prayer, Rumi having reached her by reaching back, Gwi-Ma’s realm gives way around her—the illusion melts like wax over a fire, sliding apart before her until she can see… her home.

Of all places, she sees her home.

Mira with a gayageum in her lap, watching like she’s daring this to fail, and Zoey on her feet, and some strange woman but—Rumi can almost taste how much she wants it, to share this with the two of them. To see them truly feel so right and comfortable in her home.

“There you are, young, hot, and morally ambiguous!” Zoey crows.

And Rumi’s feet stutter.

Bells.

(And isn’t that what a demon would think? Wanting to possess them, to keep them, being so disgustingly tempted as to want them?)

The bells hadn’t called her, not like Zoey, because the bells ward away evil spirits.

“Rumi?” Zoey’s eyes are wide with desperate confusion, and Rumi does hate to harm her, the words hesitating on her tongue, but she knows what she is—blood and claws and far too sharp edges and far too many lies.

“Let me go,” she says, as gently as she can, and she feels the rocky plain reforming under her feet already. “Close the gate.”

“Wha—no!”

Mira is vehemently shaking her head.

“Why would we leave you?” Zoey asks.

Because Rumi, in all of her lies, has not told her this. She breathes in. Breathes out, in spite of the burn of Gwi-Ma’s air. “Do you know how they bound me?”

No answer.

She taps the sigils on her face. “Demon-binding. Quite powerful. But it would have done nothing on a human.”

The last thing Rumi sees as Gwi-Ma’s fog closes in upon her once more is the horror spreading across their faces.

At least, she thinks, taking selfish comfort in it, they did not look away.

[frozenwolftemplar]

For a long moment no one moves; even that stupid chicken seems subdued. Rumi- her face, her voice, her words- linger in the air like the electric tingle after lightning strikes. Then, in perfect sync, they both whirl on Celine and Mira could kiss Zoey for saying what she sorely wants to.

"What the fuck?!?"

Celine draws a long breath and exhales slowly through her nose as she sets down the bell. It clunks unmusically as she places it on the floor, careful to make sure it doesn't touch any of the chalk lines drawn with exacting precision on the floor. There's an edge to her movements, sharp and abrupt.

"'Just let me go?!?'" Zoey rakes her hands through her hair, further undoing her already straggling space buns. "What does she mean just 'let me go?!? And 'demon bindings?!?' What the- does getting dragged into literal Hell have psychological effects or something? Because she's not making any sense!!!"

Celine placidly, tersely, goes to the sticks of incense and starts extinguishing the flames. "You did not mention the bindings."

"We didn't?" Zoey looks to Mira, who shrugs. "I mean...I kinda thought they were just, like, tattoos or something."

Mira had thought they looked familiar, and noted that they weren't on the image of Rumi from Celine's scroll, but getting your jaw nearly pounded off your face and then wired shut does things to your mental processing. Between that and how drop-dead gorgeous Rumi was she hadn't given the marks more than a passing thought.

(Another way you were useless; another way you're failing them. You shouldn't even be a part of this; you don't belong with here)

There's a faint hiss as the last of the incense sticks go out. "There are many legends about Rumi," she begins, not facing either girl. "Her deeds are not in dispute, but on one point there's always been....debate." She breaks off to look at Mira and Zoey. "Did neither of you wonder how she has the abilities she does? Strength and speed and fighting prowess?"

If Mira's honest, her brain had been too busy short-circuiting every time Rumi did something super hot- er, superhuman; judging by the look on Zoey's face she wasn't alone in that.

"My mentor dismissed it as nonsense," Celine continues, taking up a cloth. Crouching, she starts rubbing at some of the marks on the floor; the chalk leaves comet trails across the wood. "A distortion of the facts, likely done to try and tarnish her legacy. I did as well. But it seems there was more to them than she- or I- wanted to believe. They hold that Rumi's incredible gifts were the result of having demon blood."

The impact of Celine's words makes Mira feel like her jaw's being broken a second time. Demon blood.

Her brain, as if primed to do so, conjures images from her father's scrolls: hideous creatures with fangs and tusks and claws, scrambling over the earth in search of souls and mischief and blood. Holders of great power, he'd say with visions of mounting wealth in his eyes.

And Rumi had power in spades.

Rumi was a demon- or, at least, part. But enough of one to be bound by the wards, summoned by a dark spell, and repulsed by a light one.

A demon.

The knowledge sat in her chest like a chunk of ice, cold and burning. Zoey, for the first time since Mira met her, was still. Celine finished with the mark she was attacking and stood, motioning at Mira to hand her the gayageum.

Mira blinks, then pulls the instrument close, shaking her head. No.

Rumi may be part demon, but she was still Rumi, still spared Zoey, still sought Mira out and saved her from being a blood offering.

(Still murdered your brother before your eyes)

Whatever.

She was going to get her the hell out of there.

[asiomiq]

a smile that knows we love you

[eldergoblin]

@dremenec I tried to lean into the shadows bc of your post thank youuuu

[puppyrumi]

The local gremlin is on the prowl again ᵕ̈ I've been fighting art block and trying to do more art studies but I AM ALIVE.

[0nkret]

old zoemira sketch

[ferenhights]

Huntr/x Demon Days

[sonbr]

In spite of being the biggest cinnamon roll in existence Rumi really believes she’s bad

She’s all “you’ve got a dark side guess you’re not the only one”. No girlie he’s killed people. You are keeping one secret from your friends and feeling so much shame it’s giving you demon patterns. You are not the same

Mira would absolutely call her a bad girl when flirting and she would just tear up and be all “I know 🥺😭”

[justaphage]

It’s unusually high for someone her size