#how to draw lady bug

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i made... a Mistake... i wanted to practice character design... how did i end up with four more WH ocs

[nothingbizzare]

My first ever Giorno art and the Redraw of it :D

He be doing the Rock eye brows dytdrryd6td6utd(not sorry )

[chocostrwberry]

I was thinking about how the show explained that when you make a wish, essentially the old world you lived in is erased and they make a new world centered around your wish.

BUT what if the kwami ACTUALLY destroy the world??

And I just wanted to draw a dramatic apocalyptic scene ahahahahha

I applied it to a silly platonic/step-siblings Lady Noire and Mister Bug AU I dreamed about literally last night.

[luveline]

jade! i’d love to see anything with eddie and roan <3 i miss my man and my child

eddie and roan | ty for requesting <3

“Get lost.” 

“You get lost, you weirdo.” 

“I’m serious, go play somewhere else.” 

Steve frowns, shaking the fist of his Barbie at Eddie in outrage. “This is supposed to be a playdate. You can’t just boss me around.” 

“No, this is dinner. You were invited over for dinner.” 

“And Roan employed me to build some deep backstory for her characters!” 

Roan sits in your lap at the dinner table, nowhere near their playing. She has cracker crumbs falling from her mouth as she asks, “Wait, are they talking about me?” 

“Don’t think so,” Robin says, a butter knife in hand. She spreads thick, salty butter from one corner of a cracker to the other, cheddar dust falling from it like orange snow. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when she hands it to you. 

“I’m trying to get these sweet ladies dressed and you’re messing up their outfits,” Eddie says. 

“I’m not messing them up, they just look stupid when you dress them.” 

“I know how they looked in the box, okay? I should. I paid for them.” 

“That’s not true. I bought this one.” Steve holds up a Barbie with a flight attendant’s outfit on. 

“And I bought the bug scientist one!” you add from your seat. Like with Roan, cracker crumbs try their hardest to fall down your shirt. A Metallica one, Eddie’s influence. 

“I know how they look,” Eddie affirms. 

“So what? They’re toys, you don’t have to dress them up like they came in the box. Roan, can you please do me a big huge favour and tell your daddy he’s being too strict with me?” 

Steve’s pouts at her, but Eddie’s daughter is loyal to her father. “Daddy always dresses them the best, sorry,” Roan says. 

“My angel,” Eddie says, a mutter, distracted by a Barbie where he wrestles a coat over plastic arms. “Thanks, baby.” 

She licks her fingertip. “Y’welcome.” 

You squeeze your arms around her waist and steal a slice of cheese from the paper plate in front of her. 

“Don’t let him draw you into their fighting. Anyone would think they’re the kids,” Robin says. 

“I resent that!” Eddie says, as Steve calls, “Shut it, Buckley, nobody asked you!” 

“I asked, Aunt Robin,” Roan says. 

The boys tussle over a pair of plastic shoes. Robin just sighs, like she’s seen it a hundred times before. “Thank you, Ro. I hate when they do this.” 

You’re enjoying it, but maybe the novelty wears off. 

“Babe?” Eddie calls. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. 

“Fuck off a second. Sweetheart?” 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Can you get that plate of cheese out for Roan, please?” 

You snort and grab another cracker from the tub. “What does he think I’m doing?” you ask Roan in a whisper. “What, I’m just sitting here watching him play with your dollies?” 

“He’s silly,” Roan whispers back, giggling. 

A pink high heel the size of your fingernail pings off the side of Eddie’s head. “Can you pay attention to me? I’m trying to get her ready for the catwalk and you’re not helping.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging with a smile. They seem like they’re actually having fun, under their exaggerated spats. “It looks like a good time.” 

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[oceantornadoo]

part three outlaw!simon x f!reader who was supposed to marry johnny 🥲

simon is about to cause a scandal and get you kicked out of this town on account of adultery.

you told him he could visit you on your saloon shift, see what the town’s like. what you did not tell him is that everyone thinks you have a fine upstanding citizen for a husband, not an outlaw covered in black head-to-toe. he’s been nursing a whiskey for the past hour, haunting the last barstool in a corner, angled perfectly with his back to the wall.

he touches you everytime you pass him. a guiding hand on your waist when you saunter by with a tray of drinks. tucking your hair back into your updo as you become increasingly frazzled with a busy saturday night. even tightening the ties of your apron one time while you were talking to a customer, their eyes bugging out at the sight.

it would be fine if the public knew he was your husband - but johnny’s ring lays tucked into your nightstand and on account of simon’s gloves, you look like a cheater. an adulteress, committing sin in an already sinful establishment. you can see the church ladies signing the cross, see your neighbors muttering under their breath. it all comes to a head when the town rake decides to engage this shadowy figure of confusion that everyone is wondering about.

“does doin’ all that finally mean she’s out from her husband?” he introduced himself to simon, some forgettable name, and simon’s already wishing for the solitude of the mountains and grassy plains again. “wot?” the stranger’s so close simon can smell the liquor on his breath, can see the unsteadiness of his stature. he nods to you, taking orders in the corner of the saloon. “she’s not wearin’ her ring and your hands are on her, so that mean she’s outta that marriage? never even saw the man, guessed ‘e stepped out on ‘er.” simon couldn’t explain the situation to him, the stranger’s brain so stupidly drunk he couldn’t comprehend. so, the course of action was exactly that; action.

you were turning around, ready to holler at the singular cook in the saloon’s kitchen, when two meaty paws yanked into a body. you immediately resisted, too used to fighting the world at every turn, before you heard his voice. “just me, darlin’. settle down.” you hated how you immediately relaxed, shoulders drooping. simon yanked you into his side, eyes not on you but some man at the bar. “simon, you’re makin’ a scene.” he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow while the rest of his face moved under his bandana. “you’d rather a scandal?” so he did understand what was going on. you shook your head vehemently, intrigued at his next move. he unfurled one of your hands on his chest, the left one, turning it so the saloon could see your bare ring finger. the crowd suddenly silenced, understanding something important was happening.

simon’s gloved hand slipped into his pocket, drawing out a cloth bag. from it he brought out a ring, something with a pretty diamond and a vintage look. you gasped at the sight, of the thought he was giving you a ring with history, not just one from the jeweler’s. gold was well known in the west, the lifeblood of new towns, but the design showed elegance and class, not just new money. he slipped it on your bare finger, pulling you in for a light kiss over his bandana. you couldn’t even reciprocate, too stunned at the publicity of his claim. you heard someone whoop and that was it, your crowd turning back to a better piece of gossip now that this was solved. “y’r not gettin’ pushed out of town on my account, love.” you nodded wordlessly, eyes darting to the heavy weight on your hand. “go’on and get me another whiskey, hm?” he sent you to the bar-top with a pat on the ass, and that was that.

—

a little fluff for yall

this is my outlaw simon in a song.

taglist (lmk if i forgot you or you want to be added!):

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

@sinful-tawtute

@nightingale2124

@scottpilgrimvsmyfists

@saucypeanuttt

@kylies-love-letter

@livvrosesblog

@livingoutsidethetardis

[friendlyengie]

hi so i've loved your fem fortress ocs for a while now and i've only just recently been motivated to draw + finalize designs for my own femforters. and i kinda have gone about the whole process with your stuff in mind because i like how yours are separate characters from the canon mercs who fight + interact alongside them (plus i think flat out genderbends are annoying and push weird stereotypes but that's another jar of bugs) and that's the model i'm using as well! tbh it makes characterizing and designing more fun because you get to think about how your oc team might coexist with the canon team. in short, you are a big source of inspiration for me on this so thank you:)

also also thank you for making so many of your characters lesbians. thank you like genuinely. boss is my favorite btw. sincerely a lesbian ok bye

hey hell yeah!! Yeah that’s about why I chose the “separate people” aspect too, it’s just so much more freeing and interesting if you want to make them characters and not just alternative designs. That’s super cool to hear! I’m glad that my ladies were helpful in that regard!

and of course! I love lesbians shout out lesbians. Boss is also my favorite and I love that she’s a big hit she sucks so bad. Sincerely an aro butch.

^ some lesbians for your troubles

[darkcircles4lyfe]

I've given it some thought--

Now, if you've read any of my posts and you've read 430, you know there are a lot of ways it falls short of what I wanted. On the other hand, I can respect an open ending, one where we are allowed and encouraged to dream. All things considered, I'm not satisfied or disappointed, but a secret third thing... bear with me.

For a lot of storylines, I can fill in the blanks how I want.

I'm heartbroken over Himiko's fate, but there's no denying that the lack of camera footage leaves open the possibility of her simply disappearing. Perhaps she is waiting in hiding for the world to change, just like Lady Nagant.

Dr. Yoshida is described as someone who can cure the incurable. That may be referring to Katsuki, but the doctor himself said it's a complete mystery how he survived, all Katsuki's own doing. Maybe he cured someone else in those 8 years... someone like Touya?

Honestly I got nothing on Tenko but who knows. Who knows! Something something OFA connection. Izuku having vestige visions. Idk.

As for the manner in which society is changing, I'm drawn to Shouji's speech: "I'm dedicating the honor to those who joined the uprising eight years ago. All I've done is stand atop the resolve that they demonstrated to the world, nothing more." That at least tells me his earlier judgment of the other heteromorphs "setting them back" was a narrow point of view Shouji was supposed to grow out of, rather than a way of Horikoshi trying to criticize revolutionaries. In general, just because a character says something doesn't mean we're supposed to take it as gospel. That's lit crit 101, people.

Then there's Izuku. Once again I am feeling this pretty close to home. I keep coming back to the fact that the class is 24/25 now and I'm 25, man. On top of that, anyone else who was 14/15 ten years ago when the manga started gets to feel like we've all grown up together. I wanted catharsis for Izuku's trauma so badly. I wanted words. But I can't deny that the way Izuku is shown attempting to make the best of things and be content with a humbler life resonates with me, as painful as it is, as much as I know deep down he's kidding himself. It doesn't surprise me that he kept his walls up all this time and continued to shun his "selfishness."

I almost feel like there's an all-encompassing narrative theme being expressed here, in the fact that Izuku was trying to push past his pain and focus on the next generation, but surprise, his story's not over yet. I think the implied message there is that more can be done in the here and now, and maybe other stories that seem to be over, aren't.

With these things in mind, I can take the ending in stride, even if this is all the more we get from Horikoshi. However. There's one thing that is jolting me out of my peace every time I start to get comfortable here. It's actually related to the storyline that got the most closure.

I've seen a lot of fellow bkdk enjoyers calling their conclusion the best part of the ending, and I agree with that. They got a truly full circle moment, and a way of communicating to the reader that they're together, they have their forever, in a way that is personal to them. It's not "canon" in the way a kiss or a confession is, but I've said it before--this makes sense for them. And Horikoshi also did something legitimately interesting and groundbreaking by not making Ochako confess, not showing her future being tied to the main character as a love interest.

No, the thing that's bugging me is a seemingly small detail: why does Izuku and Katsuki holding hands at the end, of all things, have to be implied? Lots of things about 430 make sense in the context of the interview Horikoshi recently gave where he expressed being content with what he has drawn, and what he has left to the imagination. But not this. You can't convince me he didn't want to draw this. It's a motherfucking story about hands. This is the one thing I was 110% certain would happen. It's been teased for forever. Katsuki clearly wanted it so bad. So many other characters got to hold Izuku's hand in-frame. What the hell. Why.

Idk. I will be thinking about it for the foreseeable future.

[goofy-clan]

Heyo! Narrator peep and creator of goofy clan! I wanted to share this fanart I made as a gift to the clan series that inspired this entire series! Enjoy!!

And now it’s time to pair cat with creator! Click more to see notes I left for the creators too!

————————————————

Goldsight belongs to @gray-thistleclan , I loved the way the cats were drawn in this series, and especially how the story progressed! Gold was always my favroite -w-! Even though she has the crazy disease now ;-;.

Eukltna belongs to @loudclan-clangen ! I loved the silly cats in this series, the artstyle actually helped me draw mouths easier! I love our doomed religious kitty, even if she was a bit odd. That crude oil does get everywhere huh…

Longstrike belongs to @juniper-clan ! The fact that the entire series was set in olden times is really neat! I also love the theme of seashells/ cowrie shells being bad, those are spooky! Long was my favroite, I was sad to see him go. So he’s drawn in the cozy sunshine!

Tigertoe Belongs to @circus-clangen ! Circus clan was actually a big inspiration for the puzzles/cipher aspects of my blog! I was always a sucker for finding stuff out, plus clowns are cool! I love tiger with all my heart, she was so fun to draw! Best entertainer :)!

Ravenstar belongs to @fallenclan ! Oh boy where do I start. I think it’s super impressive how far the series is now, even if I picked up halfway through! I love how the cats look, fun fur colors! Raven is such a good villain, evil stinky cat. So here he is with a totally real (and not painted) star!

Kestrelstar belongs to @echoes-in-echoclan ! I love this series, even though I don’t get what’s going on sometimes, it’s still a wonderful read! I also loved the connected universe with circus clan, what a twist! Kestrel is my favorite, he’s such a cool old dude!

Sweetkit belongs to @mourningsbane ! It isn’t every day I see a eldritch horror/spooky clangen series! As an avid horror fan, I love how body horror is drawn and shown in this series! Honey is the best cat :)! But, I drew sweet today! They’re a good protagonist, because who better to explore the spooky uknown than kittens?

NettleIris belongs to @moons-of-dewclan ! I adored the art style of this series, and the fact all the backgrounds are drawn so beautifully! Even though this series tugs at my heart strings, it’s lovely! Makes me wanna go wander in the woods! Nettle is my favorite lil’ peep, best medicine cat. Plus, puffy cats are fun to draw!

ConiferSun belongs to @castaway-clan ! I love the trope of “rebuild and build anew” in clangen runs! Seeing the clan in this series slowly grow in size and for the leader to not be alone anymore was very comforting. Conifer is my favorite simply because they’re blue and just a wonderful cat in the series! They also get to look at the lady bug :)!

And that’s all! Y’all are cool Peeps, keep on rocking!

[maddascanbe-blog]

Part 1 of the unifications.

Hey remember when I said I was planning to change some of the names when they were truly egregious? This is what I meant.

So we have (from left to right) Dragonfly, Viper Noir, Shadow Moth (they still call him Hawkmoth), and Ladybee.

Dragon-bug was a stupid name, I know they were saving Lady Dragon for Shanghai but that doesn't mean we give up all together guys. Dragonfly just makes more sense.

I know I'm not the first to say that the Ladybug Dragon unification was great. It's actually one of my favorites. It showed off how good the Ladybug, and by extension Marinette, could look if the artist put a tad more effort into her suit. I definitely deviated pretty far here, push the dragon elements, like giving her two horns. The big ones on the side of her head and the little ones that attach to her antennae. The boots, and tail elements which were super fun to draw. And finally drawing Mari with her hair down because it looked cool.

Viper Noir just to add a bit more spice to Snake Noir's name. I almost called him Black Mamba but wasn't entirely sold. So that's that. I didn't give Aspik or Viperion a hood because I was saving it for this, much more Chat's style than Aspik was. The cat ears on the hood were a pain to make look right but turned out cute. And now they both have gold accent's! look how matchy they are.

I am forever on the fence about if I like Shadow Moth's design but I can't really begrudge the name? It's alright- it certainly feels very Gabriel, a man who has a track record of bad naming skills. I figure most still call him Hawkmoth though. I actually designed both Shadow Moth and Hawkmoth at the same time, so the plan was to always add Peacok feathers to the head and the double tailcoat. I almost based him on an actual peacock butterfly but changed my mind.

Just know that the additional feathers are just as painful as the butterfly wings. And now there is more! Hooray! Hawkmoth suffers!

And Lady Bee, this one felt easier than I expected because I already had Honey Bee. I might go back and fix her eyes though, they’re a bit uncanny rn.

(Bonus)

Blue Dragonfly to go with Ry-blu-ko

[russellsppttemplates]

Christmas in Spain (Carlos Sainz)

First term is over so you go back home to spend Christmas with your family

Note: english is not my first language. Dad!driver always gets me fluffy (and let's pretend it's Christmas season for a bit - it was a bit tricky considering it's sunny and warm outside 😅)

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"I hope you have fun holidays!", you waved to the kids as they got their backpacks and ran out the door, excited for the Christmas break.

Grades would be sent over e-mail and on the school platform and a parent-teacher meeting would happen in January, so for now all you had to do was tidy the classroom a bit so you wouldn't come back to a big mess.

"Do you need help?", one of the cleaning staff asked you as they pushed the cart along the corridor.

"No, I'm fine, thank you though! The classroom is not looking so bad - Mark thought it was funny to do the drawings I asked them to on the table, but I had him clean all of that out and I think we've finally won over that bug that was going around because the bin barely has any tissues!", you cheered like you had just won a championship.

"Just in time for them to go home and spend time with all the extended family and friends and catch some other bug, right?", the older lady joked and you laughed along.

"I tidied this the best I could so this one is hopefully quick for you to clean - thank you", you smiled as you grabbed your bags, making sure nothing important was left behind before leaving the room, "I hope your holidays are nice too, I'll see you in January!".

You got in the car and drove home, hoping to find a small chaos since Carlos said he would get everything ready for you to fly out to spend the holiday time with his family in Spain, volunteering to pick up the kids from school so he could get them ready to travel too.

"Mis amores, I'm home!", you gave them a quick shout before putting your things away in the office, having already packed them in separate bags so you could leave the backpack with the things you didn't need in the office and take only the things you needed already in the backpack you would fly with.

"Mama!", Clara was the first to greet you at the door, letting you pull her up so you could hug her, "I'm all dressed for the flight!", she smiled, twirling around in the tracksuit. Since the flight would arrive late, it would be best to have the kids dressed in comfortable clothes given that they would probably fall asleep and in the event that they would arrive at Carlos' parents already asleep, it wouldn't be too bad if they slept in them.

"I can see that, is papa getting the boys ready?", you kissed her cheek and walked up with her to the boys' bedroom.

Mateo was sitting in the play area, his fingers holding finger puppets while Carlos put Benjamín's sweater on, making you sit down with him.

"Why don't we show mama just how handsome you two look?", your husband said as he allowed him to go to the floor and join his brother in the cuddle you had him on.

"Mama! We're matching!", Benjamín said, leaving a splotchy kiss on your cheek and showing you the sweatshirt and sweatpants set all three kids had. When you spotted the Christmas themed Disney sets, you had to get them. While the boys had the dark blue version, Clara had the pine green one.

"You look really cute, guys! Are they comfy?", you wondered.

"Yes, feels nice, it's not itchy", Mateo offered and his siblings nodded before you pulled yourself up to your feet, Carlos helping you and landing you on his chest.

"Hello, beautiful", he greeted, kissing your lips after what felt like an eternity as he watched you and your kids. He would happily stare at the four of you forever, but a kiss was needed.

"Hey, amor", you spoke, "seems like you did just fine getting these three monkeys ready to go", you smiled.

"Don't be fooled by it - the boys were not happy they had to have a bath since they weren't going to bed yet, so there were some negotiations and some tantrums", Carlos chuckled.

"Mama, did you know we're flying tonight?", Clara asked, big brown eyes looking up at you as she pulled on your pants' leg.

"Yes, I did! We're going to see abuela and abuelo for Christmas!", you agreed, "which means I also have to go and put something comfortable on, pack what's left and then we can head out!", you clapped your hands.

Changing into an appropriate outfit, you put the last minute things in your luggage before heading down, Carlos already buckling the kids in their car seats while you fit the test of the carry-ons on the car boot.

Driving to the airport was a nice challenge since you wanted to keep the kids awake until you boarded the plane to make things easier and not change their sleep routine too much, meaning that you blasted every Bluey album you had, singing along loudly with the three children.

"Why can't I push the trolley?", Mateo asked as Carlos pushed the trolley with all the bags.

"Because it's to heavy for you, buddy - papa will do it and you hold my hands", you assured, stretching them out once your backpack was secured on, "Clara, stay close to papa, okay?", you warned.

It certainly wasn't the first time you were travelling all together - even though you didn't travel to races as much as you did when it was just you, the kids would often be in most of the European races and a few other ones outside of the continent too -, but your stress levels were still the usual.

"Relax, amor, I packed everything we needed, and if by chance something is missing, either my parents or my sisters will have it or we can go to the store and get it", Carlos tranquilized as you sat in the lounge, the kids happily eating some dry cereal from the bowl.

"I know, I think the school stress is still here somehow even though I've left everything ready and done with - I only have those reports to finish on monday", you sighed as your husband rubbed your shoulders.

"You don't have to worry, okay?", he assured, pulling you to rest on his chest until you got the flight call to board.

The flight itself was fine, the kids staying awake without making too much of a mess and entertaining themselves with their sticker books. As soon as you got to the car, though, everyone was out like a light before you left the airport parking zone.

"Welcome back!", Reyes was the first to greet you as Carlos' stopped the car

Putting his finger in front of lips so they wouldn't be too loud, Carlos spoke softly, "they fell asleep right away, if one of you could help us with them, please", he said as his father took Clara in his arms while you and your husband took each of the boys.

"I'll bring your luggage inside, dears", your moment in-law assured as you walked upstairs to the bedroom where the kids would sleep in.

Tucking the kids with some coos and shushes, you were able to come back to the kitchen and be met with some snacky bits Reyes prepared, "have something to eat and drink, I'm sure it will do you good", she smiled as you sat around the table, catching up for a bit before you retired to your respective bedrooms for the night.

.

"This year I decided I wanted to bake our own roscón", Reyes announced as she got the ingredients out of the cupboard, not missing the wide-eyed looks and scoff from her children and her husband, "why is it no one has faith in me to pull it off?", she reasoned.

"Mama - it's just, you've never done it", Ana reasoned as her siblings nodded.

"For you to be able to say you can do something, you have to do something you've never done before", the matriarch offered.

"I believe you can do it, abuela", Clara added, "mama always says that when we want to do something, we have to put our minds to it and work as much as we can for it!".

"See? At least someone thinks I can do it - you can be my sous-chef, cariño", she smiled at her granddaughter, "do you boys want to join us?".

"Abuelo said he has a new toy car that we can play with him and papa outside", Benjamín hugged her legs and Mateo followed and replied with "I know you'll do well, abuela".

"Off you go then - means I also get your mama all to myself because not only does she have a magic finger for baking - and I do need all the help I can get - and I won't have all of you stealing her from me", she giggled, tapping their noses and letting them go outside.

Reyes loved all her children the same, and her daughters were no exception to her love. When she found out her only son was enamoured by someone, she wanted to meet the young woman who had taken her boy's heart. Since then, you always felt included in their family activities and like you were her third daughter.

"How has school been?", she asked as you followed the recipe on the propped up iPad, measuring the ingredients and setting them apart.

"My little ones are finally able to do some independent work, they're confident enough to do it and that gives me more time to prepare different things to do with them - I've been really enjoying teaching this class", you smiled, helping Clara with the eggs to make sure no shells fell in the bowl.

"That's nice to hear - you know, Carlos used to worry a lot about you running yourself too much and overworking, especially now with three kids, so I can't hide the fact that I'm happy that it's becoming easier on you", Reyes stated.

"There are hard days - they will always be even if I work all day or no time at all -, but we've got a routine down with them, Carlos is spending as much time home as he can and so far, there hasn't so been much to worry about", you offered.

After kneading everyhting and waiting for the three hours the recipe recalled, you began decorating it.

"Abuela, does this one look good next to this one?", Clara wondered as she displayed the candied fruits on the dough.

"Yes, amor, it looks very delicious - we can only hope it will taste delicious as well!", Reyes kissed her cheek and mixed the sugar with water before sprinkling the mixture.

.

"Are we ready to start writing our letters?", Carlos Sr clapped his hands before joining the kids at the table, Mateo already holding the glue.

"Yes, we're ready, abuelo! Can you help me with my spelling, please?", Clara asked.

The boys were too young to write, so they chose to draw instead and your daughter still required some help.

"Tres Reyes Magos, my name is Clara Sainz, and this year I have been a good girl. I always did as I was told and I did really well in school too - Do you think that's good, abuelo?", your daughter wondered, wanting to know her grandfather's opinion on the start of her letter.

"That's good, cariño - now, you have to write to them what you'd like to get for a present", your father in-law praised, turning his attention back to the boys' letters, "have you two decided what you're going to ask for?".

"Yes! I want this game here", Mateo said as he showed his drawing.

"I really hope they'll bring me this book", Benjamín showed his best attempt of the cover his grandfather had seen you wrap the night before, smiling at the prospect.

"Let's hope they'll bring you those, then", the oldest Sainz in the room said.

"Are we going to watch the Cabalgata tomorrow?", Mateo asked, "I saw some photos from last year but I don't remember much from them", he admitted.

"Yes, if all goes well - we usually go every year, I don't see why we can't go and watch it again", Carlos Sr smiled.

[viperpaws]

LITTLE BUG EMOTES !!! i dont remember if someone requested these or if i just made em for the sake of making em but posting them anyway !!

holding butterfly

snail [ normal colours ]

snail [ gary from spongebob colours ]

lady bug

beetle [ i dont know how to draw beetles ]

some sort of bug

"i luv bugs" wordmoji

i dont know if these should be tagged as a bug tw or not, so if anyone knows please tell me thank you !! [ i am still quite new to tumblr :3 ]

[mulberrydragon]

Everyone has noticed how Vaggie's wings have changed their colour from black-white palette ("rules are black and white") to grey ("rules are shades of gray"), but there's another detail someone could find interesting:

She had only one black stripe on her wings, while all other exorcists, including Lute, have two black stripes. I firstly payed attention to it in the scene where Lute was ripping Vaggie's wings off and thought that Vaggie gained it as a result of not killing a child, showing truly angelic mercy. Then I rewatched the episode and it occurred to me: she always had that unusual pattern on her wings. She always has been a "white crow" among her so called sisters.

I guess exorcists were supposed to have some kind of balance in their nature – the balance between being bloodthirsty warriors, ready to sacrifice themselves in order to protect Heaven, and being creatures of light – the same as ordinary (normal) angels, kind, loyal, merciful. The palette of their wings represent this balance. White (kindness) is for Heaven and it's citizens, black (fierceness) is for Hell and sinners.

The fact that Vaggie had less black colour on her feathers definitely means something. Maybe she had "bug" in her "natural program" when she was created, which made her less cruel and more kindhearted, soft. Maybe she had her doubts about extermination and it's ruthless methods a long time before Adam and Lute abandoned her in Hell. And those thoughts had changed the colours of her wings (something tells me angels can change shades of their feathers based on their strong emotions — even though Vaggie's grey wings demonstrate the symbolism on the first place, it can also be the result of her complicated feelings).

As for Lute and her relationship with Vaggie, there might be something beside rivalry. What if Lute had noticed that Vaggie was different and was acting strange? Just to be clear: I can't fully believe Lute was simply jealous — these two were not the only one who Adam saw as his "top girls", best warriors. The exorcist Carmila has killed during the last Extermination possibly was another high-rank angel (according to her armour), so there must be a whole group of such strong angelic ladies, not just Vaggie and Lute (plus Lieutenant wanted revenge (!) for that killed high-rank fellow. Doesn't seem to me like a jealousy at all.)

It's rather Lute's beliefs that caused her to hate another angel. She appears like a very ideological person, who draws conclusions on the basis of her worldview. And, considering the only two things exorcists have ever seen were Heaven and Hell, it's not surprise their conclusions could be quite radical (because, they literally see the best (in Heaven) and the worst (in Hell), there is no in-between for them). If we look deeply into Lute's soul and mind, we could find something else — who knows, maybe she indeed saw Vaggie as a betrayer?.. Lieutenant wasn't ready to open her eyes and see the truth, as well as other exorcists. And that's why the only angel without helmet was Vaggie (another symbolism) — she took it off just like she rejected her previous beliefs… Beliefs which were "installed" in her mind in the moment of her creation.

[jmscornerlibrary]

Snape's Retirement Headcanon:

In an alternate reality, in which Snape survives Nagini and is pardoned by the higher powers or whatnot, both Minerva McGonagall and he come to a decision: as soon as the aftermath of the war is over, they are going to retire.

And they do retire. Minerva manages to find two matching bungalows somewhere in a village and after a lot of snapping and arguing Snape agrees to move into the one meant for him. They visit one another every day, read to one another, go on walks dressed exactly as they normally would be in Hogwarts and become somewhat of a mysterious attraction for the locals.

The village children don't like Snape at first - he's always grumpy/scowling, hardly laughs, and he looks pretty ominous in his black clothes which he wears even during the summer. Minerva is slightly more welcoming: she invites the children for biscuits and tea and they after a week or two they all call her Granny Minnie and are fascinated by all the things she has in her house and how amazing the sweets she has are.

After Snape catches a cold or something irritable like that, and the children arrive at Minerva's for their usual visit and after they get scolded for having muddy knees and hands (which they wash), Minerva gets up using her walking cane, gestures with it and says:

"Come on, children, we're all going to pay Mr Snape a visit to see how he is!"

And Snape gets absolutely swamped by these loud and hyper village children (including little girls of six with frilly bows in their hair which fetch their plush toys and dolls and place them all on his bed and rowdy boys trying their best to be helpful whilst fetching things and knocking furniture over) who all offer him tea and show him their treasures and babble nonsense while he vaguely resembles the 'A Bug's Life' ladybird. He's obviously really irritated but cannot for the life of him bring himself to chase them away since they obviously mean well. During all of this, Minerva basks in the image and almost gets a stitch from laughing and... well. After some time, they end up adopting all these village kids, deemed a mad uncle and auntie, get invited by their parents for tea and get interested in the small village community state of affairs (though Snape obviously pretends he couldn't care less, which is a big fat lie).

Minerva often says things like:

"Wow, Franny has grown so tall and quite a proper young lady! We'll have to use a warding charm so that she doesn't get into trouble when the admirers start pouring."

"Don't worry, Dylan, you'll look as good in braces as you did without them, like I have told you before... What? Your teeth magically straightened overnight? Merlin's beard, what a surprise! [hides wand] I cannot imagine how that possibly could have happened."

And Snape:

"You say Antoinetta has a boyfriend, now? Tsh. I remember when she was six and could hardly tie her laces... a tidy, neat creature, that has to be admited. Though she had a gift for breaking all of my porcelain... What? He left her for another girl? She was in floods of tears? [drawing wand] Oh, no, no, don't be silly Minerva, I'm just going to repair the sink. It broke recently... [under his breath] And it won't be the only thing that's broken when I'm through with that wretch."

and:

"No, for the final time, Minerva, I don't give a damn whether Brandon wants a cat or an even an ostritch for his birthday. Honestly. [scoffs and adds 'cat for Brandon' to shopping list] Who do you take me for, a fairy godmother?"

And for them, life is good, and they do live happily ever after.

[king-crawler]

as an artist (who has no idea to even draw king candy in his cybug form). how do you just sketch out the body?

DO I HAVE THE POSTS FOR YOU !!!

Somehow people have already made really cool guides/references on how to draw this freak and the effort is COMMENDABLE 🫡

I hope these help!!

[aemonds-sapphire]

Innuendo

Summary: Aemond shows up with suspicious marks on his neck and chaos ensues.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Just some comic relief. Aegon being Aegon. Daeron being a cluelessly endearing. Sweet Helaena and her bugs. Alicent losing her patience.

Word count: 700

“What are those marks on your neck, brother?”

“Hmm.”

“Brother?”

“Bruises,” Aemond eventually spoke before taking a sip of his mead.

Daeron’s natural inquisitive nature was as adorable as it was inconvenient.

And right now it was extremely inconvenient.

“Well, yes… but how did you get them?” he said as he craned his neck to get a better look. “Does it hurt?”

Aemond said nothing as he glared at you from the corner of his eye, his silence bearing enough judgement. He was definitely not pleased with the attention those marks were earning him.

To make matters worse, Daeron Targaryen could be as perceptive as his elder brother, so he followed his gaze and turned his head to you.

“Do you know of this, my lady?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly wishing you were skilled enough to dodge this matter. “It sometimes happens… when… huh…”

Gods… what a reply.

Daeron held a puzzled look on his handsome face for a moment before breaking into a boyish smile. “Ah! Were you two sparring?”

“With lips,” Helaena’s faint and delicate voice was suddenly heard as she fondled the beetle resting in the palm of her hand.

Aemond nearly choked and you felt a wave of embaressment wash over you.

She wasn’t wrong at all… things between you and Aemond had gotten heated the night before and you couldn’t help having your lips on his neck, gently suckling.

Daeron’s face twisted into a confused frown. “What do—”

Aemond sat upright, ready to intervene. “Daeron—”

“Aegon!” you beamed so loudly it caused the young prince to flinch as he paced towards the table.

“Not so loud!” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, covering both ears before sinking into the seat next to Daeron.

Truth be told, you had never felt so relieved to see him. His presence would definitely cause the subject to die out.

Right?

Your uncharacteristic outburst of joy earned an eyebrow raise from Aemond. “Daeron I can handle, but Aegon can be… insufferable,” he whispered in your ear, placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a warning squeeze. “Do not draw his attention to us.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, offering Aegon a forced smile who didn’t return the gesture as his face dropped to his hands with a grunt.

“You’re late,” Daeron shot at him with the slightest hint of a pout.

“I’m never late. All of you are just… early,” Aegon replied with a dismissive wave that seemed way too exaggerated.

“Are you drunk already, brother?”

Aegon lifted his head and crossed eyes with Aemond. “Always so observant,” he said. “But no… not yet, at least.”

Aemond had warned you not draw attention, yet he was the one foolish enough to taunt his brother, whose attention had now suddenly shifted.

“Say, brother… what are those marks on your neck?”

You cursed inwardly as Aemond’s grip around your thigh tightened.

“They were sparring,” Daeron chimed in, endearingly clueless as always.

Aegon’s eyebrow immediately shot up. “Sparring? You managed to best Aemond?” he then glanced at you in utter disbelief.

“Not everyone is as incompetent in close combat as you, brother,” Aemond came to the rescue with mocking words.

Aegon could be a drunken fool most of the time, but he was not easily swindled and could read in between the lines like no other.

“Interesting,” he drawled out, visibly reining in a grin. “See, I doubt those marks came from sparring.”

“Is he sick?” Daeron’s eyes widened.

Aegon chuckled and you felt Aemond stiffened next to you. “Not quite, little brother.”

You panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. “Aegon, would you be so kind as to introduce me to Sunfyre?”

That caught him off guard. “What?”

“So what are those marks?” Daeron’s eyes shifted between you and Aemond.

“Made with lips,” Helaena spoke again, absentmindedly as expected of her as she patted her pet beetle.

Aegon gave her a long and odd look. “Must you carry your bugs everywhere?”

She merely shrugged happily with a smile on her face. You envied her ability to distance herself from the this complete mess of a conversation.

“Aegon,” you pressed, completely ignoring Daeron. “I really wish to meet Sunfyre.”

He chuckled loudly. “I know you’re into riding dragons—”

Daeron seemingly understood that reference and gasped, a faint blush rushing to his cheeks.

“Enough!” Aemond slammed his fist on the wooden table, effectively bringing the commotion to a halt. The servants nearby jolted back before freezing in place, as Helaena’s beetle hurriedly crawled away from her hand.

“By the Gods!” Queen Alicent’s exasperated voice echoed through the hall. “Can we not break fast without starting a war?”

She squeezed your shoulder warmly as she walked past you.

“Aemond, what is that on your neck?” Alicent asked as she paced towards him to get a better look. “That looks painful.”

“Do not worry, mother,” he said through gritted teeth. “A small… predicament.”

“Aemond has been indulging in a newfound style of close combat, mother,” Aegon said dramatically, knowing fully well that could set Aemond off quite easily.

“He’s already had too much to drink, mother,” Aemond said plainly, but the hand on your thigh was proof enough that he was getting impatient.

“By the Gods, Aemond…” Alicent sighed heavily as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are having visitors today. That is no way to present yourself,” she said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Go get changed.”

Aegon’s smile grew wider but soon dropped as Alicent turned to him. “And you… please go take a bath and sober up.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not drunk, mother.”

Aemond held a triumphant expression on his face as he too another sip.

Your heart slowed down into a steady rhythm and you offered Daeron a smile. “All is well.”

Aegon leaned forward as he rose from his seat until he was close enough for you to hear his voice. “Didn’t know you were this… feisty,” he then took his leave before Aemond could get to him with his free hand.

You shot him a death glare, which was enough to earn Daeron’s attention. The indication that he had finally caught up with true nature of those marks was splattered across his face.

“You two weren’t sparring, were you?”

Alicent’s brow quirked up. “Sparring?”

Aemond heaved a deep sigh and turned to face his younger brother. “One day you’ll find a partner and I can guarantee you that things might get out of hand in the heat of the moment.”

Alicent’s mouth hung open. “Oh…”

Daeron nodded as he swallowed hard, lowering his gaze to avoid yours. “I… see…” he said. “Now I understand why Helaena spoke of lips…”

The girl sitting next to you smiled widely at her brother as if talking about something extremely amusing. “Precisely,” she nodded enthusiastically with a clap of her hands. “I think it suits you, brother,” she then said to Aemond who rolled his eyes.

“Oh Gods…” Alicent groaned in exasperation.