#starry night quilt

[beckysquiltingagain]

The goal: mimic the brushstrokes

Found a pic on a college website that showed the paint and brushstrokes well. There were a lot of colors of paint in those strokes. So my brain was like ok, build up the colors of the paint too. And then later my brain was like what were you thinking building up all that thread. And then when today after the fourth additional color, my brain was like you gotta stop now or you never will. Then when I pulled it off the frame and stepped back, my brain (with a headache today) says see, told you.

Now to take something to make it stop hurting, and then bind and deliver…

[angelnovus]

I love this goddamn place

[bananna-threads]

Star #5/15 is added to the night sky!

"Are you going to post every single star???" Yes. Yes I am. Helps with my motivation 😅 God knows I need it. Anyone else struggle with...doing anything at all?

Credit to Wombat Quilts' "Starry Night"

[redclaysoil]

starry starry night quilt by quiltwerke

[eupheme]

Warm With You | Day 9: First Snow of the Season

sdv!harvey x f!reader

Rated E | 3.4k

Tags: fluff, established relationship, first time together, soft!dom!harvey??, fingering, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, PiV

inspired by “nice boys don't kiss like that”/ “oh yes, they fucking do” from bridget jones’s diary

You didn’t know your boyfriend - the sweet Doctor that he is - could have such a dirty mouth.

You steal kisses under the thick quilt, pulled up over your heads to keep out the chill. Legs slotted together, hips pressed snug as your fingers wander - tracing across his white undershirt, to where his thick hair curls at the base of his neck.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to end up like this, but you think you might be grateful for the snow that has been falling down in thick, puffy flakes all afternoon.

Not seeing how it had picked up during dinner, too starry-eyed and tender-hearted to notice anything other than each other. The dishes neatly stacked and drying as you watched a movie together on your couch - your fingers laced with his.

Only seeing the way the snow piled against your door as he was getting ready to leave for the night - the icy chill of the air cutting through your cozy cabin of a home.

“You could stay.” You had offered, hopeful. “Will you? Stay?”

It would be a new step. The next big one - he hasn’t slept over before.

A lot of your dates have been in public, a lunch grabbed during a break at the clinic. Meeting at the Stardrop Saloon for dinner. Both of you busy - the farm in full bloom during the fall. His work picking up as he doled out flu shots as the season turned - taking care of sniffling colds.

“Yes. I’d like that.” Harvey had smiled, “Very much.”

With the public dates came another sort of slow dance - the ache of desire you had for him stamped down by the surrounding of your friends. The eyes that seemed to drift your way out of interest, excitement.

Stolen kisses, a moment where he had you backed against the door of your cabin as he breathlessly kissed you farewell. You had wanted him to come inside that night - it had been on the tip of your tongue - but he truly had an early morning the next day.

You weren’t sure if he’d even want to sleep in your bed, though you’d hoped he would.

Everything about him gentlemanly - from the way he asked you out, to the flowers he brought you. Polite and kind and taking his time with each step, making sure you were right there with him.

But right now - tonight - there’s a shift. You’re unsure whether it’s the fact that you’re alone, or the slow tease of denial over the past few weeks, or whether it’s the distinct lack of clothes - but there’s a tension, a need, that you can almost feel.

It’s there in the way your fingers tug at his hair, the way he pulls you just a little more flush against him. The soft hum when his tongue brushes against your lip, until you lets him in.

The needy little whine in your throat, when the slow, deep kisses are both not enough and too much, when you want more.

He makes his own sound at that - a deep groan, while you guide his hand beneath your shirt. The heat of his palm as he cups you, his other arm curling around you to tug you closer. The barest brush of a thumb across a taut nipple, your hips shifting against him in response, encouraging.

Feeling where he’s straining against his patterned boxers, your own fingers trailing over the cotton fabric as his sound turns sharp.

You pull back, lips kiss-swollen, fingers going still.

His eyes crack open as you apologize, “I’m sorry. Do you want to stop?”

A low laugh at that, barely a huff of breath. Eyes hazy and half-lidded, his nose brushing against yours, “Don’t stop, sweetheart. Please.”

His hips shifting into your hand, as your fingers unfurl so you can cup him - feel the heavy weight of his cock as you stroke him over the fabric.

A groan rattling in his throat at your hand, his own catching the tight bud of your nipple between thumb and forefinger, giving the lightest tug.

You own moan echos his, working at the front of the boxers - tugging them down to pull him free.

Harvey’s nose bumps into yours when your hand wraps around him fully, fingers lightly squeezing, his mouth open as he exhales. Half-lidded eyes needy under the fan of thick eyelashes, and your lips finds his again as your hand strokes over his swollen, flushed cock.

There’s the drag of skin on skin as you tug on him, one, twice, three times before you’re making a little sound - breaking the kiss to push yourself up.

Eyes bouncing back and forth between his as you ask, “Can I taste you? I want it to feel good, I-”

He makes a low sound, one you take to be his permission - a cold gust of air sneaking into the space as you sit up. Pulling your shirt off, leaving it tangled in the sheets as you move between the thighs that spread open for you.

Admiring him, for a moment. Because you can, because he’s yours. The trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton, neatly trimmed at the base of his cock. A drop shining at the tip, but not enough to prevent the chafe of your hand.

Your tongue peeks out to drag over his cock as it bobs against his stomach. His voice coming after, a rasp to it that you haven’t heard before, “Just get me wet, and come back up here. I want to touch you.”

His words are unexpected - making you clench, breath hot against his skin as you take him into your mouth. Sucking, slicking him up like he asked, tasting the salt of his skin, reveling in the way he makes your lips stretch around him.

Taking as much as you can into your throat, if only to hear his moan, the way his thighs flex under your hands. His hands, fingers gentle as they touch at your face, your eyes watching the way he pants when you hollow your cheeks, your fist following as your head bobs.

“Up here.” He repeats, the slightest edge that has you listening, smiling as you swallow the spit that pools in your mouth. Settling next to him on your side again, your fist still stroking as his lips crush against yours.

Fingers toying at the hem of your shorts, his mouth dropping to your chin, your neck, as you arch against him. Then, sliding beneath, reaching until his fingers part you, finding where you’re slick and aching for him.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He grits out, his hips jerking into your fist as he pets at you again.

He’s ruining you already, the words spilling from his lips ones you wouldn’t have expected. You don’t think he’s even trying to do it, not intentionally. They seem to flow from him when he sees how his voice affects you. It makes you want to hear more - already thinking about how he’ll sound when he’s buried in you. When he’s close.

His palm cups you, the heel pressing against your clit, before his middle finger just nudges against your entrance. A low gasp as he sinks inside, as if your pleasure was his - a slow pump of his finger, and then another.

Your teeth catch on his lip, the softest scrape, the tightening of your fist. His nose nuzzling against yours, the suck of air through his clenched teeth.

“So warm and wet,” Harvey breathes - watching you, your head tilting back as a second finger slips in, pressing them deep before carefully crooking and stroking.

The gasp you make is sharp, a pleased hum as his mouth moves to your neck. Doing it again, finding a rhythm as his thumb moves to rub against the swollen bud.

“Harvey.” You croak, breathless - the slick pump of his fingers followed by the scratch of his mustache as he presses an open-mouth kiss against your throat.

You didn’t know it could be like this - everything winding tight, a building pressure that has you gasping, hips flexing as you ride his fingers. His name on your lips again, a plea this time.

“What do you need, baby?” He asks against your skin, moving down to where your fingers had teased at your chest. Blinking up at you, a lazy smile beneath the flush of his cheeks, when you find you can’t answer.

Not even stroking him anymore - too distracted, too close - to do anything more than hold him.

“You want to come?” He croons, rubbing the tip of his finger against a spongey spot that steals your breath.

You nod, managing a gasping, croaking “please”, before you see the peek of his tongue, the hot swipe of it against your breast.

The groan that bursts from you then - wanton and needy as he flicks his tongue over your again, his thumb circling your clit with each of your gasping breaths.

Your hips bucking into his hand as his lips close around and suck, the softest brush of his teeth. The muscles in your thighs strung tight, a short, harsh breath punctuating each of your words.

“Fuck, Harvey. Right there, oh, I’m so close-”

His answer, the low, coaxing smoothness of his voice, “That’s it honey. Come for me, let me feel you.”

Gasping then, as he hums against your skin, the bursting pulse of pleasure between your thighs as you clench around his fingers. They slow, pressing deep - his head tilting up so he can watch the blissed-out droop of your eyes, the way your lips part.

Blushing and pleased, his teeth flashing white as his chin presses into your sternum.

Leaving you limp on the bed, moving back up until his lips press into your jaw, your cheek. Fingers drifting over your shoulder, stroking as soothing as you come back down.

Until your head is tilting to meet him, soft kisses that turn hungry - as you shift a knee over his stomach. Carefully easing until you’re straddling him, thighs spread wide over his hips. Arched over him, fingers splayed and balancing yourself on his chest - pressing into his warm skin, the dust of hair.

Your hips shift, until you can feel the hard press of him against your center - his hands flexing where they rest against your bent knees.

One coming up to brush a curl of hair back from his forehead. His own hips canting upward, his cock trapped between your pussy and where it curves up towards his stomach.

The words, heavy on your tongue, “Yoba, I want you.”

And how he smiles at that, sweet and slow as his chin tips up, so he can see you better.

“You want to ride me, sweetheart? Like you rode my fingers?”

Your exhale is sharp as you nod, and he makes a slow, pleased sound. A thudding heartbeat between your thighs, your mind a hazy, needy swirl as your grind down. Each pass making his cock a little more slick, the flushed head bumping against your clit.

“I don’t want to make a mess in your bed.” He groans, though he’s moving with you, meeting the rut of your hips, “Do you have condoms?”

And oh, you want him to make a mess of you - but you understand what he’s asking. Appreciating his care even when he’s aching for you, and you’re nodding, gesturing towards the bedside table.

His arm stretched as he reaches for it, a finger hooking around the wooden knob, giving it a tug. Fishing around for the small cardboard box, dropping in on the bed next to him as grabs his glasses where they are resting next to the lamp.

Brows furrowing as he slides them on, the tip of a fingernail slipping under the edge of the box. Ripping the edge of the foil after, fishing it out before his other hand grips the base of his cock - carefully rolling the condom on.

Holding himself steady for you, afterwards - as you gaze down at him. A flutter of excitement in your chest as you lift up, a palm pressed against his chest for balance.

Lining yourself up, feeling the tip drag against you until he’s nudging against your entrance, and then you’re sinking down onto him for the first time.

A rough moan is pushed from your lungs as you take him, slow and steady, feeling him stretch and fill you. Something you’d imagined frequently - but never dreaming he’d feel as good as he does right now.

His own low curse, your name strung out as he’s buried in you - until your hips are snug against his, and you’re wrapped warm and tight around him.

Your head dipping, fingers curling against his chest as you take a long moment, peeking up to where he’s watching, lips parted. Hands that move to rest on your thighs, where his fingers bite into your own flesh.

Bracing yourself, as you lift up - feeling the drag of him within you as your eyes slide shut. Another, and then another, your heels pressing into his thighs as you find your rhythm.

The pant of your breath matching his, his hips jerking up to meet each bounce, nudging him just that much deeper with each thrust.

“Just look at you,” He’s groaning, broad hands sliding from your thighs to your hips. Grabbing on, arms flexing as he helps you ride him, “Yoba, you’re beautiful.”

It makes you whine, makes you want to kiss him. So you do, leaning down over him, your breasts pressing against his chest as his chin lifts. Meeting you, moaning into your mouth as the sharp slap of your hips turns into a grind.

Changing the way he feels in you, the thrusts shallower. A nudging against your clit that leaves you breathless, your nose bumping eagerly against his as you sigh against him.

Fingers cupping the back of his neck, the other hand bracing against his shoulder. Drawing back to look at him, where he’s watching you as you take what you need.

“Is this okay?” You ask, suddenly a little self-conscious under his gaze. Still disbelieving that he’s beneath you, inside you - feeling better than you’ve ever imagined.

His smile soft and stretching across his face, “So perfect, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me, aren’t you?”

It makes you clench, where he can feel it. A hand leaving your hip, sliding between his lips and sucking, as your lips press into the stubble on his jaw. Slipping them between you, to rub the wet tips against the bud of your clit.

You jolt - leaning back to give him more room. Touching you like he did before, the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates - his eyes lifting to yours again.

“Aren’t you?” He coaxes again, the slightest edge to his voice. Not a command, it’s far too soft - but it’s firm, drawing your attention.

“Yes.” You moan, ignoring the dull ache in your muscles in favor of the slick swirl of his fingers. Chasing something you can almost taste - a pressure building and building where he’s buried in you.

He watches you, shoulders curling against the generous pile of your pillows, eyes traveling from your face, down to the bounce of your breasts. Lingering, before dropping - focusing on his fingers. Where he can see you, the way you wrap around him, the flex of your muscles as you arch into his touch.

A low, rough hum when your fingers tighten where they rest on your thighs. Your gasping breath, the small, “Yoba, Harvey. Just like that.”

He stays steady, giving you just the tiniest bit more pressure. It’s bliss, and you can feel that pressure again, the tight swirl in your belly.

“Oh, you felt so good around my fingers, sweetheart.”

The praise makes you whine, his voice soft and coaxing, “Want to make you come again. On my cock this time, so I can stop imagining it at work, and start remembering, instead.”

Your eyes flicker to his, his own gaze-heavy lidded, wanting. His hip flexing up to meet you, a hand braced on your waist and helping keep the pace.

And he sees it, the question in your eyes, the flash of teeth beneath his mustache as he smiles, “I’ve wanted this for ages. Wanted you. Just didn’t want to rush.”

It’s his wanting that tips you over the edge. His voice, the press of his fingers, as your thighs flex, tighten. Pushing him deep into you as you come, the tight clench of your cunt around his cock - your hands brace on his chest as you arch over him.

His name, pretty on your lips and drawn out over long syllables that sounds like a hymn with the way you sing it.

The soft swoop of his hands over your hips, thighs - soothing and comforting. Until your heart slows from where it was pounding in your chest, making itself known.

Now that you’re no longer moving, the chill settles in, and you shiver. Harvey feels the tremble of your fingers against his chest, and he’s catching them, before pushing himself up on his elbows.

“Come here.” He pats the space next to him, gently coaxing you off him.

You miss him as soon as he leaves you, an emptiness and an ache in your thighs from the exertion. But the bed is warm where he’s been laying, and as soon as you’re settled, he’s swapping places, rolling on top. Fitting between your spread thighs.

He’s kissing you this time when he fits himself inside you. The hiss of his breath as he sinks in, a soft, drawn out “fuck” that you hope you never get used to hearing. Something just for you.

Your fingers grasping his shoulders when he pushes deep, a pleasurable force to his thrust that has you gasping.

The clumsy brush of his cheek to yours, his glasses against your face as you smile. Reaching to remove them for them - tuck them away safely.

A low, grateful sound in his throat as he find his rhythm. The flex of his hips as he rocks into you, his weight warm and welcome.

Your lips against his throat, memorizing the sounds of his gasps, a low moan when you clench around him. A thigh, hooking around his hip, keeping him pressed deep as his breaths grow shorter.

“Want to make you feel good, too.” You tell him, the tilt of his chin he watches from where he hold himself just above you.

The smile when you see how he cheeks flush, how his hips stutter at your words.

“Oh, you do.” He groans, eyes half-lidded as he sinks into your heat, “You feel so fucking good, honey.”

His mouth warm against your when he leans down, swallowing his sounds as you start to move with him. The snap of his hips against yours, the muffled slap of skin on skin.

Coaxing him to shift, until his arms are wrapping around you, embracing you. Your hands on his jaw, his neck as you kiss him again, drawing back to tell him just how much you want him. How you’ve thought about him, about this.

His thrusts have gone shallow, and then - he’s there.

You watch with glassy eyes as he comes, the pretty pinch between his eyebrows, his parted lips, his long, broken moan. The way he’s gazing at you as he thrusts deep one more time, holding himself there as the last pulsing flexes of his cock wane.

The bristly brush of his mustache as his lips press to your cheek, the low, content sigh in his chest. Easing carefully from you a few moments later, removing and tying off the condom.

His legs swing off the side of the bed, as he gets ready to throw it away in the bathroom - to clean up. Leaving you with a, “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

The gentle confirmation is sweet. You think he’d stay, even without the storm. It’s a nice thought, and you’re content to stay in your cozy bed beneath the blankets, basking in the afterglow.

It’s only better when he rejoins you, curling himself against your back, lips pressing against your neck. How easily the two of you seem to fit together, the tickle against your skin as he sighs, and finally - relaxes.

Your fingers find his, wrapping around them. Bringing them up to your lips, cradling them carefully as you kiss them. Actions laced with unspoken words of affection, as you revel in the moment. In just being with him, right now.

The warmth in your bed seeps into your heart, as his arms tighten around you. Secretly happy for the storm, even if it means you’ll have more work in the morning.

Because at the moment… there’s no place in the world that you’d rather be.

(tags: @andrewrussgarfield, @luxuryberzatto)

[kaytrawrites]

QSMP - three little eggs under starry feathers

Summary in which Tubbo puts Tallulah, Chayanne and Sunny to bed at the Minecraft-Sinfonia residence. and Phil's dead asleep the entire time.

Notes yes, Sunny wears a silk bonnet to sleep. they take good care of their coily hair thank you very much. and yes the Minecraft-Sinfonia household sleeps on Japanese style futon beds. they are comfy and can be put away easily when not in use.

there is also a lil follow-up: QSMP - the little inventor returns to the nest

---

Tubbo gently kissed Sunny’s forehead as they cuddled under one of the Minecraft-Sinfonia Family’s extra quilts Chayanne had happily supplied for them. It was thick and cozy, and smelt faintly of sunshine and spring. “Good night Sunshine…” Tubbo said softly, patting Sunny’s silk bonnet. “And good night to you too, Chayanne, Tallulah.”

Tallulah grinned at her godfather. She grabbed one of her magenta signs and placed it. “you are still invited to stay the night godfather”

Tubbo smiled and crawled over Sunny’s futon mattress to where Tallulah was laying. “Nah. I'm alright. I’ve got stuff I want to work on.” He leaned forward and gave Tallulah a quick kiss on her loose brown curls. “I’ll see you three in the morning.”

He turned to where Chayanne was shuffling with his deeply asleep dad. Phil was laying on his stomach, his wings loosely tucked against his back, held in place by his own thick quilt. The avian man didn’t even stir when Tubbo climbed over his legs to give Chayanne a sneaky kiss. “Good night Chayanne.” Tubbo said.

Chayanne paused his fussing and leaned into his godfather, giving him a quick hug. “Goodnight” The older egg signed, before returning to messing with his dad’s wings.

Tubbo crawled off the line of futon mattresses, and stood. 

Chayanne gently unfolded one of Phil’s wings, letting it fall over where Tallulah and Sunny were giggling. Tallulah, well used to her papa’s wings being an extra blanket at night, settled it comfortably over herself and Sunny. Sunny slowly reached out and touched the dark feathers, a small sound of awe escaping them.

Tubbo wanted nothing more than to crawl into the cuddle pile with everyone, under those star speckled feathers, but he did have shit he wanted to work on.

Chayanne settled Phil’s other wing over his own quilt, snuggling down.

Tallulah cuddled a little closer to Phil, and grabbed Sunny’s hand to pull them close when they hesitated to follow suit.

Tubbo smiled at seeing the orange-gold silk bonnet, the loose brown curls and the two golden heads all cuddled closely together. He grabbed his camera from his hip pouch (It’s not a fucking fanny pack. shut the fuck up), and snapped a picture of the sight. It was always a healing occurrence to see the older avian cuddle with the eggs. Well, it was a comfort to be under his wings, full stop.

Maybe when Tubbo was done with the shit he had planned, he would come back and cuddle under those star speckled wings too…

He left a copy of the picture he took on the kitchen counter for Phil to see in the morning, tucking the original into his hip pouch to join the sheaf of other pictures of his beloved daughter and godchildren.

[tj-crochets]

Scrap management time! I had a bunch of little HST squares leftover from the starry night quilt, and I got them ironed, trimmed down to size, and ready to sew together

Idk what I’ll do with this later but I might treat it like a panel and build a baby quilt around it?

[queen--of--shadows]

Healing Shadows: Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: mentions of surgical wounds and scars

Word Count: 1,896

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

---------------------------

Part 4: Truth

Nuala and Cerridwen cleaned up, removing any trace of the traumatic morning, while you and Rhys set up a cozy array of soft quilts, plush blankets, and thick pillows in Feyre’s old room so she could nest with baby Nyx. “Feyre, let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in my--” You stammered as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Rhys questioned, raising a brow.

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I was about to say my room, I didn’t mean to assume I could just take over the guest room. I…Is there somewhere else I should bring my bag?” You only had your supplies with you, not foreseeing that you would end up moving in so soon.

Rhys and Feyre shared a sympathetic look. “Y/N, please, consider the House like your own home. Take whichever room you prefer. If you want to stay in the guest room, by all means, do,” Rhys continued, “We have no problem using another room for guests.” He gave you a warm smile, and you knew he meant it.

Your chest swelled with joy and gratitude at their generosity. Turning to Feyre, you said “I’ll be in my room. Shout if you need me.”

------------------------

It was late and although you were physically and emotionally exhausted from the day’s events, sleep escaped you. Soaking in a long steaming bath usually helped, but maybe it was the nerves of being in a new home. And not just any home, but the High Lord’s. You still were having a hard time believing the trajectory of your life changed so drastically in just a few days.

You paced in your room, read a few chapters of the book Nesta had lent you, trying to tire yourself out, but after a half hour gave up. Maybe I just need some tea, you thought, grabbing a robe from the dresser and making your way downstairs.

The House was dark and dim, save for the faelight torches along the length of the stairs. You were already familiar with its layout, or as much of it that you’d seen so far. Nesta had mentioned she would give you a tour of the Library tomorrow, and Cassian offered to show you around the rest of the House and the training ground on the roof.

With one hand against the wall, you made your way into the opulent kitchen. Beautiful white marble glistened underneath the iridescent faelight. You grabbed one of the torches to guide your path to the end of the room, pulling back the thick curtains draped around giant floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing the famed starry Velaris night sky and a full moon. Even though you had spent most of your life here, the sight still took your breath away.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Azriel whispered.

You jolted back and turned to face him, not realizing he was in the kitchen before you had come down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he chuckled, bringing his hands up in innocence. His deep, breathy laugh caressed your soul. Azriel was donning a simple black ensemble, the V-line cut of his sweater showcasing dark sweeping tendrils of his tattoos across a broad, muscular chest. Your heart began to pace and you were sure he could hear its pounding. Moonlight shining bright on him from the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at his perfect features. The sharp angle of his jaw, his soft, full lips, and gorgeous, blazing hazel eyes. His shadows slithered around his arms and shoulders, and you looked down to see one of them wrapping up your leg, like a cat brushing and winding against you. A cheeky smile spread across your face as the shadow slid up and around one leg, then the other.

Meeting his eyes again, you realized you hadn’t said a single word.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” you breathed. Turning back around, you continued, “I’ve loved the night sky since I was young.” Azriel hummed in agreement, taking a seat at the oak table in the center of the kitchen. You just noticed the odd-shaped chairs, and as he sat down, it made sense that they were fashioned to accommodate their massive wings.

“I was going to make myself tea, would you like some?” You looked to Azriel for his response, but he just stared at you, as if searching for an answer from you in turn. His cold, beautiful face yielded no emotion.

“Sure, thank you.”

You worked in comfortable silence, steeping the tea, unsure what to say or how to make conversation. He was the notorious Shadowsinger, and although that alone didn’t scare you, you had just been invited to move in and were still getting to know everyone.

Straining out the rich chamomile drink into two mugs, you handed him one before deciding to head back upstairs. You wanted to stay, some feeling in your gut telling you to take a seat, but figured it would be better to avoid any situation that would cause you to gain feelings for someone in the Inner Circle. The few moments you’ve had with Azriel thus far already had you in bed at night, imaging his tall lithe body, pushed up against yours.

Azriel wrapped his hand around the mug and your fingers, warm and strong. He looked up at you as if expecting more, but you instead pulled back with a soft smile and mumbled goodnight.

You didn’t notice the shadows that followed you back to your room, slithering along the cold stone floors in the darkness.

You were kicking yourself as soon as you shut your door.

How will I ever fit in around here?

The tea worked its magic to clear your mind, and with heavy lids, you drifted away into a deep sleep.

----------------------------

The following day, you were awoken by a loud knock at your door. “Come in,” you grumbled, eyes still half-closed.

“Morning, Y/N!” Mor squealed as she let herself in, her citrusy cinnamon scent filling your room. Jumping onto your bed and propping her head on one elbow, she asked “How did you sleep?”

Her eyes sparkled as she awaited your answer. “Fine,” was all you could manage. How did she look so good this early?

“Madja is here. She said she wanted to come check on Feyre and Nyx.”

Rubbing your eyes and pulling on your robe and slippers, you followed the tall blonde downstairs.

You entered Feyre’s room to find Cassian holding Nyx with Azriel seated next to him, both cooing over the baby. He was looking healthier and stronger by the day. Rhys was helping Feyre out of bed and onto the couch so you and Madja could look at her wounds. Madja slowly peeled back the bandages and gauze from yesterday morning. She whipped around, meeting your eyes with a menacing gaze that made you want to shrink.

“Why do her cuts still look so fresh?” Madja’s words shook you out of your sleepy stupor, and an icy fear mixed with rage washed over you.

No…please, please don’t say anything.

You didn’t respond.

“What does that mean? Are they not supposed to look like this?” Rhys asked, his night-kissed power slowly thrumming throughout the room. All eyes were on you, again.

“Madja? What are you talking about?” Feyre protested.

She didn’t shift her gaze away from you.

“I thought you were going to tell them. When I asked for your help, I meant all of it.”

You threw your head back in frustration. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Madja,” you replied coolly. “I performed the surgery, Nyx is healthy and Feyre is healing appropriately. Her wound is already closing.”

You prayed that everyone would believe you, despite Madja’s death stare.

“Y/N, what are you hiding from us?” Rhys knew how to sound like the High Lord when he needed to. Guilt and shame-- you suddenly felt horrible for not telling them the whole truth. Fine, they offered you their home and trust, the least you could do was give them this.

“Rhys, Feyre, I’m sorry. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I…” You were having a hard time putting your thoughts into words. “I have healing…powers? Magic? Something beyond just my surgical skills. I’m not entirely sure what to call it. I learned a lot from studying medical texts, but my healing power is similar to...” 

They all stared at you, awaiting your explanation.

“It’s hard to describe, and I haven’t fully mastered it yet. I need to practice more, but essentially I can heal using water.”

The blank stares you received in return had you stumbling over your words as you continued, “I think it would be better if I just showed you.”

Focusing on the glass of water next to Feyre’s bed, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes to center yourself. You searched deep down in your core for that power, that magic that hummed along your veins, allowing you to bend water to your will. Opening your eyes, you lifted one hand with a flicking motion of your wrist, the water following, easing out of the glass and into the air like a fluid rope. You turned your palm towards the water to stop it, and then continued to bend and twist your wrist and fingers, weaving and dancing the water through the air, not unlike Azriel’s shadows when they wreath around his neck and limbs. You were so focused, you didn’t notice the multiple sets of eyes darting back and forth between the water and you.

“Incredible…” Azriel all but whispered to himself.

Halting the water above Feyre, you motioned for her to lay down on the couch. The room was silent as if everyone was holding their breath, watching you command the element to your will.

With one hand holding the water still above her, you used your other to lift Feyre’s tunic above her abdomen to reveal the site you had cut into just a day ago. Using both hands, you twisted the water into a circle and brought it down above her wound. “This may tickle,” you warned. Feyre nodded, and you were grateful for the trust shining bright in her eyes.

You slid the water across her abdomen, willing the magic from deep inside you into the liquid. The water began to glow a soft blue, illuminating Feyre’s belly, and you moved it in long strokes across her wounds as if you were washing and wiping with a towel. You continued for a few seconds, the redness from the stitches slowly subsiding, and the wound fully closed. You were done with a few more strokes, then eased the liquid back into the glass on the nightstand and reeled your power back in. The water stopped glowing.

“That was…unbelievable,” Rhys muttered. “Y/N, it seems you have a sort of elemental magic. Have you tried using your power with other materials?”

Already following his pattern of logic, you responded with a sigh and shook your head in disappointment, “I have, but for some reason, I’m not able to connect with the other elements. I don’t know why, but it seems I’m only able to do this with water or other fluids that contain water, like--”

“Like blood,” Azriel finished for you, wearing the cold mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Yes, like blood.”

---------------------------

[blue-nebraska]

day in the life of a rabbit farmer 🐇👒🥕

IG | Prints

ID: Four drawings illustrated with marker on yellowish paper, of a rabbit dressed in a farmer's hat and a bandana around their neck. In the first, they are holding a shallow bucket of grain outside a chicken coop with white and brown chickens surrounding them. In the second, they are riding a tractor behind tall green bushes, with red beets growing in the ground beneath them. In the third, they are harvesting carrots and looking out at dark clouds storming in the distance. In the last, they are in their burrow under ground, tucked in bed under a blue quilt with their hat resting on a bedpost. Above the burrow are bushes and a starry night sky with a crescent moon.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Beauty and the Beast’s Christmas - Sariel Noir

Christmas collection story

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

It was just Sariel and I, alone together in a peaceful snowy white world.

On Christmas night, we came to a snow field to watch shooting stars.

Sitting on a quilt spread on the ground, we gazed up at the night sky glittering with stars that looked like they were about to fall any minute.

Emma: There's so many stars...it's really beautiful.

Sariel: Because of all the lights, it's difficult to see them clearly at court or in town.

Emma: I hope I get to see a shooting star.

While I was reading a book about constellations, Sariel had told me that there was a chance to see shooting stars during this time of the year when the sky's clear...

(I was so happy when you invited me out to go see them with you on Christmas)

I held out a bottle of alcohol that I had secretly hidden in the basket to Sariel.

Emma: Here's a small Christmas gift from me to you.

Sariel: Hehe, you're very transparent.

Emma: Did I really give it away?

Sariel: Yes. Even before we left court, I noticed you acting somewhat absent-minded and restless.

Emma: I can't hide anything from you, Sariel... I found this drink in town. I heard it's pretty rare and hope that it suits your palate.

Sariel: Thank you. Let's drink it together later. I have a present for you as well. Will you accept it?

Sariel smiled, his dark purple eyes narrowing, as he handed me a rectangular package from within his coat.

Emma: Thank you!

My heart pounded as I unwrapped his present and found that it contained a clear glass pen...

The delicate craftsmanship could be seen when held up against the lantern light. I was captivated by its beauty.

Emma: I've never seen a pen made from glass before...It's as sparkly as the stars in the sky tonight.

Sariel: I thought such an elegant tool would suit you so I had one made especially for you by a craftsman I know well.

Emma: Thank you so much. I'll cherish it forever.

Sariel gently caresses my cheek, lifted from happiness, with his fingers.

Then he took out two glasses and poured the alcohol before handing one with swishing light purple liquid to me.

Sariel: Now then, let's enjoy my present. Spending Christmas with you.

Emma: Sariel...

Sariel and I clinked our glasses and downed our drinks. The mellow sweetness slides down my throat with a hint of a burn.

Emma: It's really delicious.

Sariel: I agree. And it warms the body.

Emma: Achoo

I was about to reply when the cold air stung my nose and made me sneeze.

Sariel: Oh, are you cold?

Emma: A little...

Even my warm clothes and the alcohol couldn't defend me from the freezing cold, so I snuggled into my blanket.

Sariel: My, that's not good.

Sariel takes a drink from his glass before suddenly capturing my lips...

His tongue parts my lips and the alcohol flows in.

Emma: Nn...

Sariel: How are you now? Are you feeling a little warmer?

Emma: Y-yes...Um, I'm fine now.

(It wasn't just my throat, but my whole body heated up instantly...)

Sariel: Are you still cold here?

As he holds me down while nibbling my ear, Sariel's scent mixed with the alcohol hits my nose.

His tongue travels down my neck and my hips buck in response.

As he kisses my neck repeatedly, a tingling sensation forms in the pit of my stomach from the ticklish, tantalizing stimulation.

Sariel: You can see the night sky clearly from your current position. Are there shooting stars?

Emma: I don't...know...

I should be able to see the endlessly starry sky when I look over Sariel's shoulder, but I'm struggling to keep my eyes open because of the repeated sweet and tantalizing sensations.

Sariel: We came to look at shooting stars, so keep your eyes on the sky okay? I'll watch over you.

(I'm embarrassed, but my body's at its limit and Sariel seems to be enjoying my reaction...)

(I don't think I can wait for shooting stars anymore...so...)

Emma: Right now...I want Sariel more than shooting stars.

Sariel smiled and gently stroked my hair, as if he'd been waiting to hear those words.

Sariel: Then shall we return to court?

~~

After being thoroughly exhausted from our lovemaking, I started dozing off in a comfortable weariness when Sariel gently puts his lips to my ear.

Sariel: I've had an invaluable Christmas... Let's go see shooting stars together again.

(Okay...promise...)

I answered in my mind and drifted off into a happy holy night dream.

[awlimagines]

A Wonderful Twelve Days of Christmas

The surprise was a team-up/collab with @kinokoshoujoart to provide you guys with Twelve Days of your favorite A Wonderful Life bachelor/ettes! All of the lovely art credits go to @kinokoshoujoart, who also provided immense help with the themes/prompts and proofreading each one. Thank you so much!! I've loved our collab and am excited to share it with everyone!

Day One - Nami

“Hey, do you have some time?” she asked the busily working farmer. 

Nami had spent most of the previous night tossing and turning before deciding she needed to do this. She didn’t want to do it alone, and you offered her support at every turn. Nami fought a sigh of relief as your head eagerly bobbed in confirmation. She was grateful for you filling the silence and distracting her nerves as Nami led you toward the city. 

The Starry Night Market had grown since she came with her dad years ago. The booths spread from the mountain’s base like a patchwork quilt of brightly colored vendors. It could be its own little town. Nami was already regretting coming. The small, quiet Forget-Me-Not Valley was more her speed than the crowd. She thought that maybe such things weren’t always terrible, peeking over to see your excitement. 

“I just wanted to get something nice for Tei, Lou, and Rock for welcoming me at the inn this year,” Nami mumbled as an excuse. If you thought anything of her thinly veiled lie to hide her feelings, Nami couldn’t see it. Instead, she focused on keeping her face passive as you grabbed her hand. 

“So, we don’t get separated!” you beamed, following Nami’s lead. “They’ll be happy with anything you give them.” 

She was doing her best to focus on finding gifts. Nami wanted to ensure she got the best possible thing for each member of her found family. Even if she would never openly call them that. A heartfelt gift would surely convey her words without needing to say them herself. Shopping would be easier if it weren’t for the press of people and the tempting cart that kept making rounds. The sweet potato vendor drew her gaze each time he appeared. Nami jerked her head away again to see you cradling a dog figurine. 

“Are you getting that?” 

“Nah, I don’t need it,” you blushed, setting the figure back down amongst its friends. 

As she completed her final purchase, Nami realized you weren’t hovering at her shoulder. She quickly took advantage of the lapse to purchase the dog figurine and hide it with her other purchases. Her heart skipped a beat as she completed the sale and looked for you. Where could you have gone? Soft fabric encircled her neck as you reappeared, draping the scarf Nami eyed earlier around her neck. Nami bit into her cheek, trying to ignore the swell of joy. She would never have thought you would buy her a gift she couldn’t be bothered to get herself. Nami prepared to lecture you about walking off to hide her feelings. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait until Starry Night. I’ve got you this too! You’ve been eyeing them all day. I want to see what the craze is all about,” you rapidly said, thrusting a foil-wrapped treat towards her. 

Nami’s cool facade thawed to reveal her brilliant smile as she unwrapped the aluminum to reveal a piping hot sweet potato. This had been a really great day. Nami hoped she could spend more time with you like this in the future. She worried too much happiness like this would make it impossible to leave the valley, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Nami could make a home there with you. She couldn’t wait for Starry Night to give you the gift she purchased for you.

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

ROUND 4

One day polls, four polls will be posted a day

SET ONE: Hubble Deep Field vs Can't Help Myself

SET TWO: Dead of Night vs Untitled (I’m Turning Into A Specter Before Your Very Eyes And I’m Going To Haunt You)

SET THREE: Doubting Thomas vs Anguish

SET FOUR: Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace vs Judith Slaying Holofernes

SET FIVE: Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) vs Belfast to Byzantium

SET SIX: Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate vs Pixeles (a group of 9 works)

SET SEVEN: Stańczyk vs NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

SET EIGHT: Susanna and the Elders, Restored - X-Ray vs how to look at art

SET NINE: Starry Night vs Woman with Dead Child (Frau mit totem Kind)

SET TEN: Wheatfield with Crows vs Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan

SET ELEVEN: Two Earthlings vs "Untitled" (Perfect Lovers) and The Lovers

SET TWELVE: Mouth vs Le Désespéré (The Desperate Man)

SET THIRTEEN: Siberian Ice Maiden shoulder tattoo vs The Day

SET FOURTEEN: Thunder Raining Poison vs Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death)

SET FIFTEEN: Panel from Fun Home vs José y Maria

SET SIXTEEN: Unfinished Painting vs Saturn Devouring His Son

[bananna-threads]

New addition to the night sky! Star #4/15 now complete. This is my first time making a quilt, much less a quilted dress, and I keep swinging between enjoying the process, and being completely frustrated lol. Paper piecing has been really helpful in making even a beginner like me look like I know what I'm doing. But I can't tell you how many times I've had to seam rip and restitch a section because when I go to press a new section open, I realize the fabric doesn't completely cover the area it needs to lol.

I've been using scaled down versions of the paper piecing patterns on Wombat Quilts' website:

She has some awesome stuff, and shares a lot of helpful resources. Maybe this is a poor excuse, but since I'm new to quilting and I wasn't confident I could come up with a design myself, I've pretty much just been copying her "Starry Night" quilt 😅 I'm telling myself that because this is really just for me, that this doesn't count as plagiarism. Copying is a form of flattery...right?

[doe-eyed-dreamr]

hi hi !! i was wondering if you could maybe make an imagine of snufkin from moominvalley as a caregiver, like tucking a regressor into bed (sry its rly weird lol, u totally dont have to do it)

Ahh not weird at all! Snufkin is such a comfort character of mine and this was a lot of fun to write. I hope you like it ^-^

Cg!Snufkin, little!reader imagine ~

It's been a day of adventure in Moominvalley, as it often is, and the cold evening air is soothing on your skin. Snufkin sits beside you, crafting a tune to mirror the light of the stars on his harmonica.

You sway with the sound letting it surround you like a blanket, and Snufkin turns to face you, a smile tugging at the sides of his instrument.

Easy as anything, the music shifts in nature, and the sound of a familiar lullaby has you pouting in realisation.

"There there, little one," Snufkin's lilting voice hushes, song paused for now. "The day must come to an end eventually for a new one to begin."

He reaches over, soother in his hand like magic, and places it in your mouth. You can feel your shoulders drop almost instantly, eyes going droopy as the day's exhaustion finally catches up with you.

Snufkin uses the opportunity to clear things away for the evening, extinguishing the fire last and quickly making his way beside you as he catches you shiver.

"Come, my little explorer, it's warmer inside."

Gentle as ever, he guides you into the tent. The starlight from outside filters through the mossy walls, casting a green glow on the space that reminds you of sunshine through a tree canopy. Chuckling at your enamoured expression, Snufkin settles you down against soft blankets and pillows that Moominmamma may or may not have added to when she noticed your penchant for feeling small before bed.

Snufkin takes one of the blankets, a colourful, quilted thing, and drapes it across your shoulders.

"There," He says. "Snug as a bug."

You giggle pulling the blanket in tighter around you.

"Now, if I tell you a story, do you promise to try to sleep?" Snufkin asks, raising an eyebrow. You hum an affirmative and he nods, leaning back against the pillows and tucking you in next to him.

"It was a cold night on the lonely mountains..."

And as Snufkin's voice recites stories of long-gone Winters, you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. Carried by melodic words, and ready to dream of great mountains, and starry skies.

[pattywinchester]

Suptober 2023, Day 9 - Starlight

Beneath the heavens’ quilt of starry light, I call to you in silent whispers on this tranquil night.

Each twinkle in the dark, resembling a spark of your grace. It’s glow washing over me, like a tender embrace.

As constellations form over millennia in the night’s sky, Our hearts align, permanent, constant, never to die.

No force or might can alter our grand love story, In starlight’s glow, it finds its place of glory.

A profound bond, two souls forever free, In love’s embrace, amongst the night’s tapestry.

[kaytrawrites]

QSMP - the little inventor returns to the nest

Summary in which Tubbo, in his post-death addled state, joins his sunshine under a warm blanket of stars

Notes this is a follow-up to this fic: QSMP - three little eggs under starry feathers all the props to @piecanl for putting this idea in my head :D

---

Tubbo lay on his back, his eyes unfocusing. High above, the night sky was like glittering velvet, the stars twinkling in and out as his vision darkened. 

The cold was spreading from his back across his body.

The night was warm.

He was cold.

So, this is what dying is like…

It’s a funny feeling…

Did Empanada feel this way all that time ago?

Tubbo’s vision blurred, his mind turning to the little girl he cared for so deeply. 

His sunshine.

His golden girl.

Who he would do anything for.

Who was safe.

She was safe.

It was funny.

They were both under a blanket of stars right now.

She was safely with Philza.

And Tubbo was here.

Dying.

He should have taken up Tallulah’s invitation to stay the night.

He should be under those star speckled wings with Sunny.

Not here.

Not dying.

His vision went fully dark, and the DOOM of death rang in his ears.

Tubbo’s eyesight cleared slowly, the federation mall greeting him. His chest was still cold. Not as cold as earlier. But the cold still hurt.

He could barely focus as he stumbled… somewhere. His heart was freezing. Yet still beat.

The sky above was speckled with stars.

Familiar patterns, slightly askew.

Ah. Water.

He splashed through the water, crossing it. The water was cold. Not as cold as he.

Tubbo stood on damp sand, staring up at the building before him. The top of the roof shone like a star had fallen from the sky and affixed itself there. The windows were dark, the inhabitants deeply asleep.

Tubbo wanted nothing more than to enter.

But he felt he didn’t deserve to…

Traitorous feet! He ascended the staircase to the front porch, and slid open the front door. 

Oh. Someone was awake.

The faint rustling of feathers greeted the shivering young man.

“Toby?” The tired voice of Phil asked.

Tubbo stood in the doorway, not daring to enter, but his feet refused to leave.

“Tubbo, you are dripping wet.” Phil approached, and held out a hand.

Tubbo’s traitorous hand reached out and took Phil’s offering, and his traitorous feet let him enter the cozy building.

“Let’s get these wet clothes off you…” Phil said, guiding the young inventor to a chair by the oven. Tubbo’s shaking hands were no help, so Phil had to unbutton his shirt.

Tubbo hated it. He was a whole adult! He hated being treated like a child.

Phil paused, then turned and grabbed a large fluffy towel from a shelf. He dropped it around Tubbo’s shaking shoulders. “Come on mate.” He turned to the oven, shoving in a few pieces of firewood to warm the area a little more. “Keep that tucked around you. Then you can get changed.” He patted the folded pajamas he had grabbed. They were green and looked far more comfortable than the wet clothes that Tubbo still wore.

Slowly Tubbo stopped shivering, and he started to slide his shirt off, leaving just his undershirt. Phil stood, and turned to organizing chests while Tubbo changed. Eventually, Tubbo’s wet clothes were in a pile on the floor, he had weakly toweled off the damp, and the pajamas were on. They were a similar style to Phil’s own, being loose knee length pants, and a lower-hip length short sleeved shirt that crossed in the front and tied at the waist. Somewhere in Tubbo’s post-death and cold-addled brain, the word Jinbei seemed to be right, but again. His brain was addled from the death and the cold water.

Phil chuckled, and led the younger man to the line of futons on the floor where the three little eggs were asleep. Sunny was cuddled into Tallulah’s back, almost entirely on the same futon. Tubbo dropped to his knees beside his little daughter, the futon soft and inviting. 

Phil turned, his wings rustling, and he lifted another quilt down from where the household stored their extra quilts. 

Tubbo flopped over behind his daughter, his hand starting to reach for her, but he forced it to stop. Did he really deserve to be her dad if he failed this badly?

The thick quilt settled around him, the scent of sunshine and spring filled his senses.

Phil dropped down to his usual sleeping space, spreading his wings to cover the three eggs and the young man.

The blanket of stars settled over him.

It was warm.

His daughter was warm.

She was safe.

He was safe.

Tubbo lay on his back, his eyes unfocusing. Just above, the feathers were like glittering velvet, stars twinkling in and out as his vision darkened into comforting sleep.