Just vibing with my multiple ships

Slytherin||Obsessed with everything Tom Riddle || Dramione/Tomione and more

[vieennaa]

First tomione fanartt? Wowow can someone give me good tomione fic other than invictus??

[momo0765]

[momo0765]

The little jokes inside are so hilarious

Vines by illsapele

[momo0765]

[momo0765]

😎

[hermajestydeathh]

Time travel au where Hermione adopts little Tom and Dumbledore is a noisy old man as always😂

[thedeathofdreams1]

@obsidianpen The Tower. Ch 76

[nermunyv]

Hey so i drew the dream scenes of Blood & Gold by @obsidianpen ty for this amazing fanfic xx

[marisajart]

Hermione from Invictus ❤️

I'm sharing some art from my backlogs of work and this one is from December when I read Invictus by Greyana on ao3

[szynkaaa]

two commission pieces I worked on for a fellow fanfic binder, who requested Tomione (Tom Riddle + Hermione) as the Korean Macbeth posters

[makaykirei-art]

“She never wanted this—never wanted to submit to biology’s cruel design—yet Tom fills every sense until resistance fades into a distant memory.”

A comm for Tippilo inspired by her fic “Scent of Surrender” on AO3 ❤️

[thedeathofdreams1]

Visit Original Link

Hello Everyone! Welcome. Here's a peek at my new story. I've returned to fanfiction writing after a decade.

Comissioned music by Adriano Caballero :)

commissioned cover art by sunrise https://www.instagram.com/ssunriseart/

Please look forward to the first chapter drop this week of

The Lament.

"He is not a god when he falls from a brilliantly painted sky. His stygian feathers disperse in waves as his wings melt like oil held to a flame, no longer held together by one emotion. He tries to reach for the sun, stars, and clouds above, and any signs of her warmth flow through his fingers and disappear. Sound poised at the end of his tongue with words left unsaid, never to be ripped from his throat, the taste of obsession on his lips, and a lament in the cold recesses of his dark aching heart. His red eyes closed, and down he fell, tumbling into the violent sea below."

A Dark Lord and a High Priestess of Hekate cross paths in the 1950s.

art by Vagrant Lungs https://www.instagram.com/vagrant_lungs/

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[kinza-radwitchhh]

M7slim m@les don't deserve anything good. If you are a woman living with one, know that you're never safe. And it's not only the illiterate ones but every high class fluent English-speaking M7slim m@n has a jih@di mindset too. They just want to control women's bodies. They are so sick that many mullahs among them even justify M7slim fathers raping their toddler daughters. I don't believe that M7slim m@les have ever been oppressed but surely they are the most violent oppressors of not only M7slim women but non-M7slim women too. Forced conversions and mass rape of women throughout the I$l@mic colonialism is just one example

[kinza-radwitchhh]

Dear Western girls and women, please don't come to P@k!stan, Ind!@, Bangladesh, Afghanistan and Nepal as tourists or digital content makers. You are not safe here. There have been many cases of brown m3n in these countries raping Western and white women. Please leave if you're there. Don't showcase our countries in positive light. They don't deserve it. Brown women are already trying to leave these countries. You all should too

[runningquill-art]

“Could she hear his heart thudding away in his chest? He was still in his Quidditch kit. He probably stank. Why was she so fragile-feeling? Her breath was warm. Her arms were a sweet pressure around his ribs. The feel of her head pressed against him was unspeakably precious. The feel of her chest, expanding and contracting against arms as she breathed was a thing rare and to be treasured.

It was pleasure and it was misery, holding Granger in that embrace. It broke through whatever fortifications he’d created in the last month with a crystalline shatter. It made him want to say things, blurt out things, tell her that he’d missed her and that he wanted to – to be with her more, whatever that meant. That he was quashing things because he wanted no part of those things, but they existed still, a teeming, roiling, unspeakable mess. That these things tormented him in the small hours of the night, when the world was quiet and he was alone with his thoughts. That he would voice none of it, because he was too afraid of risking the thing they had right now – this dance at the tip of a fulcrum, this equilibrium.

He couldn’t tell her. This was not the time. And besides – he wouldn’t risk it. It would change things. And he loved whatever this was, right now, more than he hated the feeling that it wasn’t enough.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 23: Draco Malfoy, Notorious Auror, by @isthisselfcare

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DMATMOOBIL art 34/40

[swottydoodler]

Hermione and her ugly ass cat

[avanesco]

Therapist: would you say you’re independent?

Draco: *looks at Hermione*

Hermione: *nods*

Draco: I’d say so, yes.