iltaimpi

[iltaimpi]

HI I LOBVE YOU. imn going anomymous can you guess who I am

{My Laventula? Drunk, perhaps?}

[iltaimpi]

{Draft for a comic idea I had regarding Char and her obsessive hatred towards Cioccolata.}

[iltaimpi]

EVERYONE @iltaimpi MISTOOK JERMA FOR TONY HAWK EVERYONE POINT AND LAUGH

[iltaimpi]

Hi, I hope you are well 🌹

With the ceasefire announced, I am very happy that the war is over, but my heart aches for the loss of the father of my children.

I am not asking for much, just a small amount to buy bread and some vegetables for my children, as well as winter clothes and heating for my sick mother. 💔🙏

Campaign verified by @gazavetters (#334) https://www.gofundme.com/f/struggle-of-a-mother-for-survival

{As always, I doubt I can help beyond signal boosting. Best of Luck.}

[iltaimpi]

{I’m excited to continue the long form RP chain. I had an idea.}

[iltaimpi]

{I love my ghoulfriend.}

[iltaimpi]

{I'm already in here! Hello, everybody.}

Ooooo may we see the fan stands spreadsheet? It'd be cool if we could make submissions for some to add to said list too! ^^

oh! Well this is a spreadsheet to keep track of my own fanstands (plus Ilta and atreyu) but if you guys want i can make one that others can submit their fanstands into!

and i can share it but it’s got some spoilers for Cloud Nine Contrails and other projects of mine but i mean to be fair what are the odds I’m actually gonna make any of them so like why not . i can.. link in comments?

[iltaimpi]

Your support can save my family

I am Nasreen, a mother of four children living in Gaza, where survival has become a daily struggle amidst the war. 💔

We have lost our home, our safety, and everything we once knew. We live in harsh conditions, struggling to secure food, warm clothing, and medication for my mother. My baby, Samaa, desperately needs milk and diapers, and my children live in constant fear.

My previous fundraising campaign was halted when my account was closed, but I refuse to give up. I will not abandon my children or our hope for a better life. ✨

Your support—whether through donations or sharing our story—can bring us closer to safety and hope. 🙏

https://gofund.me/bb54a24c

{I wish you luck.}

[iltaimpi]

Hi 👋,  I write to you with hope that you can help us 💙

I live with my family of 11 in Gaza 🇵🇸, where survival has become a daily challenge due to the war and blockade.

We are urgently seeking medicine to save my brother Samer’s life 💔, as his condition has severely deteriorated without treatment. In addition, we are battling malnutrition 🍞, water contamination 💧, and homelessness, leaving us exposed to the harsh winter cold.

Please consider helping; even a small contribution can save us 🌟🙏

Verified by @gazavetters, my number (#75): https://gofund.me/917ecb89 Thank you for your compassion and kindness!

{As I have said in the past, the best I can really do is share.}

[iltaimpi]

{Mm… I have a visual of a mini comic featuring Zucca.}

[iltaimpi]

That guy from mouthwashing

[iltaimpi]

{A commission for a D&D campaign.}

[iltaimpi]

{ “Witch?! Oh, good heavens, do I really look that old—”

She pauses suddenly in her indignation.

“W—wait. Did you say you received a letter? With the secret ink, too? Goodness me, and you actually came all the way out here?”

She stands fully, turning to face him—in the process revealing a rather nasty red mark covering one of her eyes. The butterflies swarm about her, landing on her shoulders and head, losing their gleam. Something about her is… familiar, somehow. Not strikingly—but her features look somewhat reminiscent…

Her presence seems gentle and safe.

She’s also surprisingly tall. At least 183 cm (6’).

“Well, I was about to get a bit offended, but if you’re here for her… I guess it would be unbecoming of me to be rude to a guest! Regardless, I’m not a witch… nor am I one they call a witch! I’m just the gardener!”

She laughs gently and gestures towards the door.

“I hesitate to invite anyone on her behalf, but if the lady invited you, she must’ve done so for a reason… you’ll probably find her inside. If you’re lucky, she might even have some fresh pulla, it’s delicious!”

Her grin faltres slightly.

“Although, I do advise… well… maybe mind your words? I-I know she’s called a witch by half of the city, but it seems a bit unfair to be so harsh, no? Just for—well!”

She covers her mouth for a moment.

“My! Then again, I dare not speak too much! Don’t mind me! She’s probably expecting you.”

She makes a gentle shooing motion, as if ushering him to the door and urging him not to question it.}

{Perhaps he may notice, while taking a last glance towards, that a spot of moisture on the note seems to reveal more letters.}

...

It had been just a little slip-up a few days after receiving this mysterious note. He was prepping himself some coffee and, haphazardly, had spilled a few droplets of water while filling the pot to be brewed.

Curiously, he did a double-take. Something was different? Something hidden. A twist of fate, once more.

Deciding to, quite literally, take the plunge: Specchio grabbed a plate from the cabinet and laid the note out flat before gently running it under the faucet to see what other secrets this tale may hold...

[iltaimpi]

{The stranger doesn’t press further; just scoffs, grumbles about ‘just another fool’ and departs, warding away the children with a harsh shooing motion as they point and whisper about the scars.

Now,

Seeing the house in-person is somewhat jarring.

The house itself emanates an aura of some sort, though it would be hard to call it a ‘bad’ aura.

The aura is simply…

Odd.

The building itself seems run-down and rather worn, with a smashed, boarded-up window on the nearer side of the house during the approach, ivy creeping up the walls, and all the shutters closed, obscuring what’s inside.

Despite this destitute look, there is also a vibrant, active garden framing the house. There's also a ring of flowers and a fence encircling what… might be a couple of gravestones? It's hard to see. The garden is lively and bright, wrapping around the front of the house, framing a worn stone pathway up to the house.

As the house is approached, another person comes into view, seemingly stocky—her hair is, perhaps, in a very textured perm; it doesn't quite appear to be an afro. Butterflies flutter around her. They seem to glow, but it must be a trick of the light.

She’s rather ardently tending the flowers out front. She seems entirely absorbed in the work, wiping sweat from her brow. Surely this isn’t the ‘witch’, right? She looks quite unintimidating.

Her head turns slightly as the house is approached, and she calls out in a sharp voice.

“Back already—?”

… but her voice immediately softens to a gentle, lilted, very… airy voice, for lack of a better word.

“—Oh! Pardon, so sorry, I thought you were... someone else. Are you here for a reason? I hate to say, but you might have the wrong address—I can’t imagine why, but the mistake seems to get made a lot; if you’re looking for the Palumbo household, it’s down the street back that way and on the left—”

She seems polite enough and certainly seems like no threat (what is she even doing here?), but, of course, this is definitely the right house. The same house spoken of in all those stories about devil-worship, and strange lights, and ghosts, and—in the more extreme, less ‘substantiated’ (if at all) children’s rumours—kidnapping or disappearances.

Though, garden aside, the exterior of the building kinda isn’t doing the so-called ‘witch’ many favours to her reputation here. Does anyone even actually live here? Only one way to find out, right?}

{Perhaps he may notice, while taking a last glance towards, that a spot of moisture on the note seems to reveal more letters.}

...

It had been just a little slip-up a few days after receiving this mysterious note. He was prepping himself some coffee and, haphazardly, had spilled a few droplets of water while filling the pot to be brewed.

Curiously, he did a double-take. Something was different? Something hidden. A twist of fate, once more.

Deciding to, quite literally, take the plunge: Specchio grabbed a plate from the cabinet and laid the note out flat before gently running it under the faucet to see what other secrets this tale may hold...

[iltaimpi]

{I've got to get more familiar with fat bodies. Also, I need to learn a better way to draw textured hair. I feel like I made Bella look awkward, and Millie too.}

[iltaimpi]

{Many things can stir a rage

And you still fail to cease.

You stick your fingers through my cage

then wonder why I bare my teeth?

You stick your knife into my flesh

and drive 'til you hit what's not meat,

You dig to the bone, then wonder why

I have the nerve to bleed?}

[iltaimpi]

{There’s a bit of a walk, even if one were to drive or take public transport to get there, as the building of the rumours is rather out of the way—one can tell they’re getting closer when the trees and overgrowth start to get more plentiful, and the houses get less-so.

The houses that would be the neighbours of the 'witch' are all run-down and presumably vacant. After all, who would want to be neighbours with her, right? Well, that's assuming she didn't have something to do with their absences, but... come on, surely some of the rumours are just an exaggeration, right?

On the way—once he decides to finally set out, that is—nothing seems too suspicious (if he ignores a gaggle of nervous-looking children pointing in the direction of the house and whispering. They’re telling each other stories and scaring each other—or doing a dare of some kind, probably. Frankly, it'd be more questionable if there weren't idiot kids doing idiot kid things).

As the house starts to come into view, Specchio might pass a tall, lanky, arrogant-looking individual in a plaid button-up (which looks rather creatively patched-together, mirroring the stitched appearance of the wearer's own skin—it seems this stranger has suffered quite a few injuries).

The patchwork stranger looks Specchio up-and-down, then scoffs rudely and mutters:

“What is this, another investigator? Shameful. People will really waste their time on anything these days.”

The individual struts away, looking vexed (an overall disdainful personality on that one, it would seem), but Specchio could probably intercept to ask questions about these statements... if he felt the need.

Otherwise, a few more steps and the ‘witch’s’ house would come fully into view.

It’s his choice.}

{Perhaps he may notice, while taking a last glance towards, that a spot of moisture on the note seems to reveal more letters.}

...

It had been just a little slip-up a few days after receiving this mysterious note. He was prepping himself some coffee and, haphazardly, had spilled a few droplets of water while filling the pot to be brewed.

Curiously, he did a double-take. Something was different? Something hidden. A twist of fate, once more.

Deciding to, quite literally, take the plunge: Specchio grabbed a plate from the cabinet and laid the note out flat before gently running it under the faucet to see what other secrets this tale may hold...