#child of misfortune

[hiddencarpet]

Hatred.

[retracexcviii]

Sunday Moon

Hello there dear fellows and Luna/Lacie lovers, the Sunday is back.

Don't edit this drawing and don't post it anywhere.

This full illustration has been my computer background for four months by now. I commission the artist because, as you can already tell, I really love this style of painting.

The idea of having both Luna and Lacie under the tree where is Lacie's grave has been in my mind for almost two years since the place has a important meaning in Pandora Hearts story and because they both have so many things in common that I can't help but to see them being good friends.

Also, the artist is @/notsobadaart on Instagram.

[quiddie]

I find idioms derived from scripture to be particularly fascinating. They seem to have this extra weight to them. One of my favorites is “out of the mouths of babes” which speaks to the surprise of wisdom coming from unexpected sources.

The phrase’s origin is a particularly funky translation of Psalm 8:2: “Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, That thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.”

Such evocative phrasing. It *almost* paints a picture.

Anyway, it’s Thursday.

See you soon.

[comradekatara]

time’s arrow

[siriusblack-the-third]

Matching Misfortunes: Lucy Pevensie

Have feral Lucy, as a treat. The other parts for the other siblings are up on my blog if you wish to read it.

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The boy reaches out with a lewd grin, and Lucy’s blood burns. She turns around, grips the boy’s arm and moves.

A second later, he is on his knees at her feet, her fisting a hand in his hair and twisting his arm behind his back. Her lips pull back into a wolf-like snarl as Howard lets out a yell, and she twists his arm harder with fingers smaller than she is used to having, vindictive pleasure coiling in her gut when his breath hitches with an even louder sob.

“YOU WILL NOT,” she roars with all her might, ignoring the way her voice is not as loud and commanding as it used to be, ignoring the shocked gasps and astonished stares of the rest of the students of the school, “TOUCH ME WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!”

The other boy— James, she remembers the teachers calling him— comes at her with his fist raised and a yell on his lips, but she kicks him in the back of his knee, hard enough that she feels something crack under her Mary Jane shoe. He lets out a pained scream and crumples like a can of soda would under her foot, and her snarl turns into a too wide grin, just on the wrong side of feral; it is a move Peter had taught her twelve years ago. Or maybe it was five years.

She never bothered to separate her home world from this one.

Her blood rushes through her veins like fire, and she pulls on Howard’s hair till his neck is bared, and her eyes zero in on the beating pulse under his jaw. She can almost feel the way the crimson life flows through his body, the way it would flow over his skin if she had her dagger. She would drag the blade over his flesh in a vicious, vengeful slice for the slight upon her person— he dares touch her?

He dares feel entitled to her presence? To her affections? To her body?

She is Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia. She is the Dragon Spirited Spymaster Queen, the Fourth of the Beloved Four, Lover of the People. She is greater and more powerful than he could ever hope to be, and he dares commit the crime of touching her?

She bares her teeth at the thought and twists his arm till she feels his shoulder pop out of place. Her canines elongate and dig into her lower lips even as her blood boils and bubbles, clamouring for punishment to be given and for vengeance to be taken in the form of his lifeblood.

He dared to touch you, Narnia whispers in her ear, tempting her with the fantasy of letting his blood colour her hands crimson. Punish him for his grave mistake, my Queen. Make him pay for this transgression.

There was a time when she would have killed him within seconds for having the audacity of trying to slap her behind. She would have made an example of him for the world to see— she might be young, but she is neither foolish nor meek, and she refuses to be disrespected in such an appalling fashion. If not her, then her siblings surely would have rendered him nothing more than a stain on the ground for daring to try and dishonour the youngest of the Rulers of Narnia.

She breathes in. Blinks. An image of her fingers curling around the golden hilts of her daggers, of burying them in the enemies’ guts and letting herself bathe in the spray of their blood, flashes across her vision. She breathes out, and blinks again. She is in the middle of the school courtyard, fingers wrapping tight around Howard’s forearm and twisted into his short and coarse golden locks.

She is not in Narnia.

She fell out of that wardrobe with her siblings five and a half years ago— she is fourteen and her blood still burns her insides at the reminder that she is not twenty-seven years old. It still scorches the inner lining of her blood vessels at the reminder of not being in her home country, of not being with Mr Tumnus and the fauns, of not running through the forests with her daggers at her sides and her network of espionage agents at her beck and call.

She breathes through her nose and lets go of his arm only to reach for his neck and grip tightly, feeling a sick sense of gratification when she feels his breath hitch fearfully under her palm, and feels the pumping of his blood through his jugular against the tips of her fingers. She tugs harder on his hair, and revels in the whine that echoes in his throat as she straightens up and rakes a narrow-eyed glare over the gawking students.

“Hear ye!” she calls, lips curling into a vindictive smirk when people stiffen their spines at the fury in the little teenage girl voice that is not hers, that has not been hers for decades. It rings with the royal Narnian accent that neither she nor her siblings ever managed to lose, and she lets the accent get stronger, she lets the lilt of the Narnian magic carry her voice over the courtyard.

“Consider the following as both a warning and a threat,” she announces, and her voice echoes strangely through the air, like she has a microphone held in front of her, “henceforth, any unwanted contact with my person will be met with the most violent of retaliations. Either it will be me, or my eldest brother Peter who does it, but know that blood will be drawn.”

The mention of Peter has most of the boys quailing and looking away, shoulders curling inwards and cheeks flushing at the reminder that Lucy has an absolute beast of an older brother— over six feet and built like a bull, with wide shoulders and a face permanently set in a grim expression. Peter’s fencing skills are legendary, and he is infamous for hitting till bone breaks. It makes Lucy smile a vicious little smile; her royal brother is terrifying, and she is proud to be Queen next to him and their other siblings.

It also makes her blood beat an outraged tune against her pulse points— she is no less terrifying than her oldest brother, and it is high time that people learnt to respect her for her strength and status. She is Queen just as much as her brothers are Kings and her sister is Queen, and she deserves to have her titles acknowledged. If they refuse to do so, then she will force them to their knees and make them do it.

She finds Peter easily when she looks for him; he is sitting in a tree with Susan and Edmund, hidden from the rest of the world, their trademark Pevensie blue eyes all gleaming wildly with pride and encouragement. Edmund grins sharply and whispers something at her, and she hears the lilting Narnian in his voice even though he is too far away for any normal human to be able to hear him.

Ruen’hi vraeka, he has always called her fondly, much to her eternal amusement. Blood-covered dragon.

“LUCY ANNE PEVENSIE!”

She breathes in and out through her nose, and turns calmly towards the advancing form mistress, clenching her jaw at the anger etched into the wrinkles of the old woman.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS, YOUNG LADY?

She resigns herself to the one month of detentions, but her blood burns.

Her blood is like fire as it pounds in her ears, outrage bubbling in her gut and showing in the flash of her blue-eyed glare as it pans from the yelling form mistress to the rest of the students and then finally on the two boys at her feet. They still haven’t stood up, in too much pain to do anything more than groan in pain and wipe their tears and snotty noses on their sleeves.

They should be falling at my feet, she thinks savagely. They should be on their knees begging for forgiveness, for mercy. In fact, the school faculty themselves should also be at her feet, begging for forgiveness for the audacity of raising their voices at her and her siblings.

How dare they deem themselves capable of handing out punishment to a King or Queen of Narnia? To all four Kings and Queens of Narnia? Who are they to try and punish her, Queen Lucy the Valiant? Who are they to deem themselves appropriate authority to discipline the Dragon Spirited Spymaster Queen, Fourth of the Beloved Four?

Lucy’s blood burns, but she lets herself be dragged to the headmaster’s office, taking one last glance at her siblings. The sight of their gazes fixed on the two injured boys makes her mouth stretch into a feral smile even as she bristles indignantly at the form mistress’ grip on the shoulder of the body that has not been hers since she first stepped into that wardrobe.

Narnia hums in her ears, a sweet siren song of bloody retribution.

That night, when she sleeps, she dreams of gripping the two idiot boys by their hair and ripping their throats out with her teeth.

[jaratedeguadalupe]

happy birthday tf2!! thank you for shrinking my brain to the size of a grain of sand and i hope for many more deranged years to come

[groovygladiatorsheep]

Do not separate !!

Meet my two redesigned ocs - Misfortune n Asper ! Yes, they’re a couple ! Have a few kids together :3

I love them SO MUCH

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Credits -

These twos belongs to me !

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Info -

• Misfortune

- Both his parents are dead- His mom was Prim, of an unknown specie, and his father was Caer, who was a bunny skeleton.

- Matching earring with Asper ! The scale is a scale the other lost when shedding..

- Honestly a sweetheart but has also a lot of physical strength.. surprisingly considering he’s smaller than most people due to genetics.

- Probably doesn’t pay taxes

- « I’m tough to protect. »

• Asper

- He got a passion for collecting random keys.

- Has a matching earring with Mist !

- Small snake tail <3

- The scales shines rainbow when under the light :3

- got two moms !! One was a skele and the other a snake monster heehee

- Knows a bit of martial arts !!

- « I like challenges. »

[glowsticcc]

the amount of money i would pay to have a video that is just professionally done dubs of the egg signs

[envelopesofbadluck]

"Hello! I came to play with Emperor!"

*Patchwork decided it was a good day to visit his friend*

@solver-frank-whmultiverse-au

Oh, alright then sure

Yay friend! -he runs over and trips on his legs-

[very-uncorrect]

Idea: Morgo holding a fading Misfortune in his arms, whispering to her quietly "please, Misfortune, please continue to play my game, I can't lose you, my child"

Listen the "my game is the only thing keeping you alive" line got to me ok

[und3rtal3s1h0p3]

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT

WHAT IF I DREW THE SCENE FROM LITTLE MISFORTUNE WHERE SHE SAYS “My mom wanted to marry my dad to have kids.” “She wanted to have an abortion, but that’s illegal!” USING THE PINECONE X ARMORED SHIP KID

btw his name is Cone (I made him)

@ask-crow-aus

[hiddencarpet]

Children and very old people full of hatred to the world yet unyielding in their own survival are so special to me. They can be so inherently unhappy yet will never give up on what's theirs.

[retracexcviii]

Sunday Moon

Hi there, dear fellows and Luna and Lacie lovers. One more Sunday.

Don't edit this drawing and don't post it anywhere.

This is the latest commission I received. I ordered it with the last week's because I wanted to see this scenario in both styles of both artists (and probably in some future with others), I just love this characters and the headcanon of they meeting with their children/adoptive sons.

The artist is an old acquaintance of Sunday Moon post since she made an amazing drawing of Luna before this one. She changed the username since last time, now you can find her in the profile @/skyblob on Instagram.

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And well, that's it. For now on Sunday Moon is in a unknown hiatus (tbh, I didn't expect this to last so long).

I hope I will receive in the next weeks/months the other commissions I bought and when that happens you will see a new Luna post here again. I could continue sharing some Luna drawings I made but since I'm not sure for how long, I decided not to do it.

Maybe some random Sunday you will see this again. Until then, take care.

[kitxkatrp]

@thevessaliuz II Requested Starter

"Jack!" Vincent came over and tugged at Jack's pant leg, looking up at him with mismatched eyes.

"Will you carry me? I'm tired." He asked, holding out his arms. He just wanted Jack's attention.

[not-wikied-sexyperson-brawl]

Mr. Voice / Morgo

Source: Little Misfortune (Video Game)

Explanation from Submitter: He has a Deep voice in a British accent by Henrik Norman. He is Mysterious. He is Tall. He is powerful. He is a Good parent. He is a dark entity (not the best intentions). He breaks the fourth wall and talks to the player. He is very polite. He wears cloaks. He is a Twist Villain. He seems smart (studied human biology). He also respects women. He can be protective. He can be playful.

Note from Mod: I think he's implied to have caused the disappearances/deaths of children in the game. The fact he sounds like a British narrator makes it a bit funny.

Polls:

vs Seung "Sonny" Joon (won)

vs Miss Frizzle (lost)

[ride-a-dromedary]

The brain is cooking and the wheels are turning