#the entire time i was drawing those wings i was like

[xxcherrycherixx]

Birthday Cake

[candiednova]

updated sona !

[shadowdaddies]

I would love an Azriel x reader where they are friends and they have a conversation and Azriel’s scars come up. And he talks about how he hates them and always tried to hide his hands. Then the reader says something about how they find them sexy because all the textures and bumps would feel amazing in the bedroom. Then Az just flabbergasted because he never thought of it like that

Hi! Thank you for the request, lovely. Sorry this took me so long, I hope it is worth the wait.💜

Your Touch

Azriel x f!Reader

warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, allusions to past injury

Cool autumn wind blew gently across your face, blowing strands of your hair to tickle your cheeks as you stepped outside to the training ring. It was a quiet morning, too early for anyone else to be up, or so you thought. The sound of metal brushing stone drowned out the birds’ morning chirps, drawing you toward the source of the disruptive noise.

Azriel’s dark form contrasted against the light morning mist, the Shadowsinger’s large wings folded tightly behind him as he hunched over his treasured blade. Eyebrows furrowed with focus, Az sharply dragged Truth Teller along the whetstone with more force than usual. 

You were one of few who recognized the spymaster’s subtle tells, who knew when something was bothering him. The way he gripped his blade, scarred hands flexing with each purposeful stroke against the stone... With a flush you looked away just in time before hazel eyes flicked to you. 

It was a practiced dance, a rhythm that flowed in flawless agony each time you caught yourself staring at your best friend. That tug in your chest that pulled you to find him in moments like this also let you know when he could feel you - your eyes on him, your presence - but you would not let him feel your longing.

He was the most thoughtful, loyal male you had ever known, and nothing was worth risking losing his place in your life. So you looked away, time after time, in hopes of keeping him around in any way possible.

“You’re up early,” his warm voice rumbled, snapping you from your spiraling thoughts. Forcing your gaze to his, you thanked the Mother for the cool breeze disguising the blush on your cheeks. You smiled, watching the gold in his eyes shimmer as he offered a small smile back.

“I could say the same to you,” you countered, willing courage into your bones and urging them forward to find your seat next to Azriel on the bench. His wrist flicked blade against stone once more, sparks flying as he huffed a tense breath. “Please be careful, Az,” you murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. “You’ll cut your hand,” you added, nodding to his other hand which held the whetstone.

A short, humorless laugh escaped him, no hesitation in his reply. “As if they could look any worse.”

You both grew immediately still, hearts pounding now louder than the birds in the trees, Azriel’s words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You tracked how his throat rolled, another tell of nerves, of what he’d admitted.

“Azriel,” you whispered, taking the opportunity of his pause to reach for his arm as you looked into his eyes. You could see the emotions warring within them, the deep tortures of his past swirling, same as those thoughts eddied into darkness itself. “Your hands are beautiful.”

His eyes shuttered at your words, body tensing but not moving away from your reassuring touch. “Do not feel pity for me,” Az gritted out, his chest rising dramatically with unreadable emotion. “I know the hideous scars I have bared my entire life. Do not pretend they’re beautiful when I know they’re not.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, as if the Mother herself propelled you to take his hands more firmly in yours. The intensity in your gaze drew Azriel from his stupor, his lips slightly parting as he looked at you in wonder.

“I do not ‘pretend’ anything about you is beautiful, Azriel. I know you are. And your hands...” You paused, allowing your gaze to drift to where you held him, his palms laid gently against your fingers. You stroked the skin there, the grooves and ridges surprisingly soft against your own. Earlier thoughts of those hands, how they might touch you, incensed your mind, leading your thoughts astray - for only a moment.

Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your eyes back to his own where instead of those earlier emotions, now lay a hint of mischief. “My hands...?” he questioned, brows raised in intrigue. 

No weather could disguise the burning of your cheeks now, no birds to drown out the nervous laughter that escaped you. “I, um... I think they are very nice,” you managed, dropping his hands and quickly shifting slightly away.

“They’re nice?” Azriel pressed, his curiosity only growing from your statement.

Breathless, you continued, something in your gut giving you the bravery to finally share a small part of what you felt for Azriel with him. “Yes, they’re... they would feel nice.” Panicked gaze finding his, you amended, “I mean, they do feel nice. Just now, when I held them.”

Azriel was now smiling down at you with an amused grin. “No, you said they would feel nice... What does that mean?” 

Fumbling over words, none came to you. Feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare, you prepared to run when those hands found yours. Azriel pulled you close, holding you in place more surely than gravity as one scarred finger ever so lightly traced your cheek. 

“Tell me where they would feel good,” he purred, voice low and commanding as you leaned into his touch.

“Everywhere,” you breathed. 

Instantly, Azriel’s hands were everywhere, grabbing any part of you he could as the two of you frantically stripped each other of your leathers. Laying you down against the training mat, Az’s black hair fell around his face as he grinned and lowered his lips to yours. Soft but precise, he knew exactly what he was doing as your body became aflame beneath his.

Lips and hands trailed down your body, leaving reminders of your pleasure in their path before he paused above your pussy, so warm against the cool autumn air. “I want to hear how good this feels,” Az murmured, giving no explanation before his finger barely grazed your clit, sliding down to your core. 

You had never felt more vindicated than in that moment, when reality proved better than fiction. Azriel’s warm breath fanned over your heat as he watched your reaction to his touch, finger slowly teasing inside of you before he added another. 

Your mewls and gasps echoed through the open air along with his name, giving Azriel satisfaction as his wrist flicked and curled his fingers, working you as expertly as his blade. The moment his lips touched your clit, you were gone. Back arched off the mat, you felt the cool breeze against your sweaty, writhing body. 

Azriel continued working you through your high, pulling his hand from your cunt to hold it in the light for the both of you to see. Studying the glistening coat of your slick on his fingers, Azriel hummed. “That is beautiful,” he murmured, before turning to lock eyes with you while he licked his digits clean, openly groaning at the taste.

Smirking up at him, you lunged to pull Az back towards you, eager to have your hands on him now, but the shadowsinger held your wrists, stepping back with a ‘tsk.’ 

“We’ll have time for that later,” he winked, tossing you your clothes. “Training starts in two minutes.”

Jaw slack, you prepared to argue with him when you heard the doors open, Nesta and Cassian’s voices echoing as you scrambled to get into your leathers before they could see. 

“Gods, it reeks of sex in here,” Nesta groaned, silvery eyes scanning until they landed  between you and Azriel. A brief smirk graced her lips before she muttered something that sounded like “finally,” smacking a chuckling Cassian on the shoulder and settling in on the other side of the training area. 

You looked to where Azriel stood in the spot where he’d just worshipped your body, gaze not shying away in the slightest from his satisfied smirk as you calculated the time until training was over.

[the-ancient-dragons]

Observe the final Overcomplicated Pyrrhian tribe, the NightWings!!

As always, Joy and Tui already did an amazing job, I'm just adding my own flair.

Details and explanation below.

Next week I have something special... See you then!

More overcomplicated dragons.

The NightWing took me forever. First with school, and then because I picked the most annoying references. It was perfect, at least I thought it was, until I had to draw scales over the entire thing. THE ENTIRE THING. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

First, I modelled the main anatomy after the komodo dragon. A really uninspired choice but I saw how Morrowseer tracked that albatross in book 4 and said hold my 2 mL of beer. I recently did a few alterations because I felt I was following the komodo anatomy too much. I think I've got a nice balance now, but I might change it later when I do the full body.

Next is the elephant in the room, that fact that there are way too many small scales, especially over the areas that look like large scales. That comes from the caiman lizard. In the references I had their body scales had folded in the EXACT pattern of NightWing scales. As soon as I saw it I knew I needed to use them. You can also find their influences around the mouth with those large "lips" and the silver scales along the neck.

Lastly I used european starlings for the glossy scales. Not every NightWing would have blue and green and purple on them, but it would be a possibility, and I wanted it on this one to show that. Depending on the angle you look at them you would see a different colour. Some starlings also have lots of white spots on their underbelly, which I thought would look perfect for the underbelly of a NightWing. Again, not every dragon would have this, but it would make sense. If the underside of their wings are star-spangled then their necks, stomachs, and tails might as well be, no?

I really had a lot of fun with this. I mentioned something special next week and I think it's something you'll really like (if you liked this series so much). No spoilers though! Until next time >:)

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Mr. and Mrs. Shadowsinger

Azriel x Reader - Angst - Smut

His eyes are cold and restless, his wounds are almost healed, and she’d give half of Prythian just to change the way he feels. She knows his love’s in the Hewn City and she knows he’s going to go. But it’s not a female he’s leaving for, it’s his damned duty to the Night Court.

Warnings: sexual content, grinding, dom/sub dynamic, language, bondage, grinding, fingering, toxic couple, using intimacy as a form of persuasion

Her mate was strong but gods damn it, so was she. Perhaps that’s why by some cruel twist of fate, she was mated to the infamous Spymaster of Night Court. A male that could torture the secrets out of seasoned liaisons with even the highest of clearances. Nobody in Prythian was better at the game than him, and he wouldn’t allow anyone a moment to doubt it. “Cold”, “Calculating”, “Ruthless”, those that feared him would whisper.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Azriel?” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

His cold, stony gaze fixed on the door behind her as she pressed her body against it, blocking the exit.

Placing two palms to his leather covered chest, she shoved - perhaps she was the only one who didn’t fear him. In fact, she loved him and that was the fucking problem. She wished she didn’t, wished she could let his ass walk right out that front door and not give him a second glance. Instead she was so hopelessly devoted to him that she couldn’t fathom letting him go without a fight. The irony wasn’t lost on her that she needed him, like he needed to draw information from anyone he perceived as a threat to the Night Court. Those that respected him would call it honorable. She called it fucking insufferable.

To his credit, at the belligerent outburst of his mate, a slight tick of his jaw was the only sign of his irritation - a large hand raising to each of her shoulders.

“You just got back! This is fucking bullshit and you know it!” She huffed. She wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let him see her weak. No, not today. Let him read the resolve in her eyes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.” His firm tone left no room for argument.

Too bad for him she didn’t give a damn about personal space as she made room to retaliate anyway.

“You’re not even healed! Your left wing is tattered in two places. Never mind the fact that I’ve barely seen you this past month. What the hell, Azriel? Do I not matter to you?”

His cold, restless gaze faltered for a moment. “That’s unfair, Y/N, and you know it. You matter and so does ensuring the safety of the court we live in. It’s my duty.”

She pushed a finger into his chest, emphasizing her next words. “No, Azriel, what’s unfair is the way you are walking out on me again. Fuck this court and every person in it, I only want you.” Rage seeped through her, rising to a boil beneath her heated skin. Azriel’s lips remained pressed in a firm line, a slight rustle of his wings the only show of frustration.

Lifting a scarred finger and tracing it lightly along the side of her face, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t mean that.”

Her brow creased at the implication. “I do and you know it. You are all I care about, you’re my fucking mate, not the people of this court, not the city of Velaris, YOU.”

Shaking his head, he remained calm, letting out an exhale. “We can’t keep doing this, Y/N. You’ve known my duties since well before we mated. You don’t see me complaining when you’re away on missions for the Valkyries.”

Oh- he struck a nerve with that. Bracing himself for the recoil he stood firm, crossing his arms in the warriors stance he and Cassian had both perfected over the years. With a cock of his head he continued, “Did I strike a nerve there? Let it out, Y/N. Let’s get this out of the way so you’re not stewing the entire time that I’m gone.”

“You are infuriating!” She howled, her power rolling off her skin in waves, Azriel’s shadows recoiled but he didn’t flinch. “You know why you don’t complain? Because you’re still fed, fucked, and fawned over every single night you’re home. Do I get the same treatment in return? No!”

“So that’s why you’re upset?” He challenged. “You need me to fill your pretty cunt? Is that it baby?”

He hit his mark with the statement. A rush of arousal barreling into him before she clamped down on their bond, rage again lining her sharp features. “I can get off well enough on my own, Azriel.” she spat, his name dripping off her lips with venom. He wanted to bite those lips, suck the venom coating right off of them.

He leaned in, centimeters away from her ear, running a thumb gently up and down her forearm. “You sure about that? You seem a bit-“ hazel eyes roved hungrily up and down her form, from the exposed flesh of the thighs her negligee did very little to cover, to the hint of areola peaking over the deep cut of lace trim, disheveled in her haste to catch him before he left the house. He closed the distance, his lips now caressed the shell of her ear. “-tense.”

“Fuck you.” She snarled.

“Oh, did I not make that clear enough?” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his hazel eyes boring into the depths of her own. “That’s what I’m offering.”

“You can’t fix this with fucking! I’m going to get Rhys, now. You’re not leaving. Not this time.” She stormed to their bedroom, the curve of her ass teasing him as he followed her through the house. Throwing open the armoire door she grabbed a silk t-shirt and leggings, hurriedly putting them on over her slip. Azriel’s tall form leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, watching his angry little mate with a smirk.

“I’m not fucking joking.” She scowled. “I don’t give a shit that he’s your High Lord. You’re MY mate first. Or did you forget that?” She marched toward the doorway shifting to slide past his towering frame. Just as she thought he’d let her past he flung out an arm. “How could I forget, my love? Your fiery rage is the soothing balm warming my own forged of ice.”

She hissed as she barreled into his arm, no match against the 500 years of hard-earned, corded muscle beneath. “No you don’t.” He hauled her over his right shoulder as she kicked and beat her clenched fists against the defined muscles of his back. “Put me down!”

He smiled to himself with satisfaction at the fact that though his mate was livid as all hel with him, she still was careful to throw those fists away from the sensitive membranes of his wings.

Reaching the edge of their oversized bed and much to her dismay, Azriel cradled one hand to the nape of her neck, and looped the opposite arm beneath her ass, dropping her onto the bed, his shadows darting out to restrain her.

“This isn’t going to work!” She yelped.

He hummed, a look of pure male arrogance crossing his gorgeous features. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he braced his weight on his left arm, tracing a calloused finger down the valley between her breasts. “Is that why the sweet aroma of your need is filling every inch of this room?”

Gritting her teeth, she fought the shadows pinning her to their bed.

She loved this and he knew it. His mate was wild, untamed, only yielding within the safety of their bedroom walls.

He placed a knee between her thighs, spreading them, and placing just enough pressure against her core to earn a whimper at the friction.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N.” he demanded.

The female shook her head.

“I may be a patient male, love, but I don’t have time to wait for you. Going to need you to use your words.”

She only scowled at him and he didn’t miss the way she almost imperceptibly arched her back, raising her chest, pebbled nipples peaking from beneath her silken shirt.

“Very well.” He tsk’d, turning his back, wings flaring slightly to remind her of just how accurate the rumors about wingspan were.

He stepped outside the door frame, turning the corner when a pitiful “Wait.” came from their room.

Her scent flowed to him from their room, his cock jerking at the win, at the fact that her submission and desire for him was so evident. He waited a moment. Oh yes, he was going to make her wait for this. Spymaster duties could hold off long enough to punish his girl for her outburst, in all the ways she loved to be reprimanded. She needed the attention and her behavior was a clear sign of it.

So he sauntered back into their room, oozing with confidence as he took in the sight of his mate, defenseless in her binded state.

“Can you be good for me, baby?” He asked in a condescending manner.

She nodded her head, apology dancing in her eyes.

“Promise me, baby.” He teased. “Show me just how good you can be.”

“Yes, sir.” She spoke submissively.

Pride sparked in his chest at her changed behavior. Releasing his shadows, he looked to her with faux empathy in his eyes, seating himself at the edge of the bed. “Strip.”

She did as he requested with no argument.

“Good girl.” He cooed, patting his thigh. “Now c’mere”

He took in every inch of exposed skin as she strode toward him, avoiding eye contact in a show of deference. Very well, the subtle bounce breasts with each step was captivating his attention anyway.

His submissive girl was so fucking good for him.

She spread her legs, straddling his thigh, dropping her weight down onto it, waiting patiently for his next command.

Looking into her eyes, he whispered in a low voice that sent chills through her, his palm cupping her jaw, thumb running across her lower lip. “You’re so delicious, you know? Those pretty lips make me want to devour them until they’re puffy and red.”

He was setting the bait. The next sentence determining whether she’d be rewarded or not based on her response. “But, unforunately” Azriel let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t have all day. Our court needs me.”

He caught the flash of violence in her eyes, the rage warring within them. But to his surprise, she didn’t react. Not one single word of resistance falling from that pretty mouth.

He placed a hand on either side of her hip, situating her center over the seam of his leathers. “I know you didn’t like that, sweet girl. But look at you, you’re being so good for me right now. You’re learning.”

She smiled coyly at the praise, biting her lip and looking up to him with fluttering eyelashes.

“You can move now, baby. Take your pleasure.”

So she did, finding that perfect angle and rhythm to bring the friction she so desperately needed to her aching core.

Her body began to tense, little moans and whimpers spilling from her lips, brows furrowing as she focused on her pleasure. “Azzie.” She whispered innocently. “Please, may I come?”

He brought a scarred hand to the back of her head. “Such good manners, baby. So proud of you.”

She beamed at the praise.

“Yes, my good girl. You may.”

A whimper fell from her lips as his thumb found the sensitive bud of her clit, moving it in those rhythms he’d long ago perfected, bringing her to the edge in no time.

She cried out his name through shattered moans, her head falling to the crook of his neck, breasts heaving against him. When her panting settled, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Opening his mouth to accept her gratitude, he was taken back by something pulling at his wrists, ankles following suit.

His mate hopped off of him, heading to the closet. “What the hell?” Azriel shouted.

“Some Spymaster you are.” She chided, eyes rolling with contempt. “When would I ever submit so easily? Think with your other head next time, Az.”

Throwing on a set of leathers that typically would have had his cock at full attention by the way they hugged her like a second layer of skin, she flashed him a vulgar gesture and left the room, leaving him pinned to their four-poster bed by his own damned shadows.

He fought against the binds but the traitorous things were having none of it.

“Y/N! Come back!” He yelled but the only response was the slamming of the front door echoing down the hall.

——————————

Hours later a disheveled Shadowsinger found himself in the Hewn City. After much convincing his shadows had finally let him free of their restraint when he promised the lecherous things their share of playtime with their favorite little mate - their mate who was absolutely going to be punished later.

He was fuming, embarrassment weighing heavily upon him like an anchor. He almost felt bad for the subject Rhys has sent him to elicit information from today. They expected it would take at least a day, if not two to work on this one. Azriel guessed a day based on the less-than-generous mood he was in.

His heavy footsteps echoed off the walls of the Hewn City dungeons as he neared the cell of his subject, shadows promising violence, an obvious attempt to win back his affections after their betrayal.

Azriel gaped as he rounded the corner to find his leather clad mate sitting in a chair outside the cell, seated in a relaxed show of dominance with one leg crossed over the other, irreverently picking at her cuticles with fucking Truth-Teller.

“What the hell?” He fumed at his mate. “Where is the prisoner?”

“Oh, him?” She flashed a wicked grin.

“He’s gone. I got the information Rhys needed.”

His brows furrowed with disbelief. There was no way. It had only been a couple of hours. “How?”

She stood, swishing her hips as she sauntered toward him, brushing her chest against his. “I have my ways. Certainly you would know that.” She flicked her gaze to his swirling shadows who quickly hid in shame. “Your shadows surely do.”

Gripping him by the front of his leathers, she pulled him into a kiss, claiming his mouth with her own. The Shadowsinger too dumbfounded to argue.

“C’mon Shadowsinger.” She quirked an eyebrow, as she looked into his eyes with challenge. “You’re mine. Now, let’s go home.”

—————————————-

A/N: you get extra credit if you know where the summary for this story came from.

General tags: @lilah-asteria

[thevoidstaredback]

Adventures In Gotham

Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant Side Story

The first time Danny had ever been to Gotham, he swore it would be his last. He was twenty-two at the time.

In an effort to relax after finals had ended, he, Tucker, Sam, Val, Wes, and Dani had been playing a round of Truth or Dare after finishing a few movies. Sam had dared Danny to wander around Gotham without attracting attention to himself. The catch was that he wasn't allowed to use his powers except to fly there and back. His time limit was Sunday night.

They'd all been planning to stay the night at Sam's anyway, so no one would even notice he was gone. Though, the dare had seemed easy at the time, Danny should've realized his luck was not that good.

Regardless, he flew to the outskirts of Gotham City, dropped his transformation, and entered.

The first thing he noticed was that there was some kind of bubble around Gotham preventing the Shades and overall feel of death from leaving. It was overwhelming at first, but he got used to it pretty quickly. The next thing he noticed was that he had walked into somebody's haunt.

Shit.

He made himself presentable and spoke to the night, "I apologise for trespassing," His voice echoed through the open area as though he was shouting in an empty room. Ghost Speak tended to do that. "I mean no hostile intentions. I simply wish to play a game with your protectors." With any luck, whoever this was would be playful or friendly, at the very least. He didn't hold his breath, though.

A lie. He was holding his breath, but that's only because he was nervous!

The night air stilled as though considering his words. Then, a breeze from behind pushed him further into the city. Flapping wings of bats and owls seemed to hide the whispers of "You may come in." and "Be careful." and "You will lose." and "Good luck.".

A vote of confidence from the City Spirit. "Thank you." He was going to be as quick as he could, but he couldn't draw attention to himself. Easier said than done. Batman seemed to know whenever anyone ever stepped foot into his city, especially if they've never been there before. So, he had to play hide and seek with Batman and Robin.

Again, easier said than done.

Danny knows very little about about Gotham and her heroes and villains. What he does know is that Robin is fairly knew to the scene, but also very serious in what he does. He's still a child, though, and he likes to play around a bit. Batman, on the other hand, has already become something of a cryptid, despite only showing himself a year or so ago. Either way, the two balance each other nicely and work well as a team.

Batman and Robin obviously know the entire city inside out, so Danny has to somehow keep an eye on where they are at all times while not drawing attention to himself. Which would be easy, except for the fact that Danny can only sense where non-living beings are. Batman and Robin are very much alive. He's pretty sure. Unless either of them have a shit ton of Shades attached to them, which is unlikely but not impossible, then he'll have to rely on finding them first and keeping them within his sight as he tours around their city.

Why the hell did he agree to this? He so deserves a reward if he succeeds.

'When', not 'if'. 'If' is pessimistic and implies that Batman might just drop him off a building and watch him fall. 'When' at least lets him continue with the illusion that he may get out of this no deader than when he arrived in Gotham.

All he had to do was basically tour the city, then he'll be done. It went well for the first hour, but then he spotted the shadows moving around him. It wouldn't normally be a problem, but one of those shadows was made out of bright colours. Seeing as his Ghost Sense didn't go off, Danny figured the he'd just run straight into Batman and Robin.

Shit. Fuck. Okay, play it cool, Danny.

He ran. He ran as fast as he could without using his powers. When he was sure he'd lost the two vigilanties, he allowed himself to stop in an alley somewhere in the Narrows. (The map he looked at was coming in very handy all of a sudden)

"Could be worse," he said to himself, backing into a corner.

The sound of shattering glass and the scurrying of mice and rats gave the impression of laughter and taunting. Which, rude, but fair.

"Your Knights, my lady," he spoke into the darkness, "are terrifying."

"Who you talking to?"

Danny did not jump. He didn't! Liar.

The kid, about twelve years old, was in bright green, red, and yellow. His hair windswept and he didn't seem even the slightest bit out of breath, let alone tired. Shouldn't he be in bed? Did he have a bedtime? He should have a bedtime, in Danny's expert opinion.

"Did you know that humans are endurance hunters?" Robin had been smiling since he dropped down in front of Danny. And if that wasn't a scary ass line to hear from a twelve year old up way past his bedtime-

No, he's not intimidated. "It's, um, a good thing I'm not completely human then, huh?" Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shut up, Danny! Stop talking! Right now!

This made Robin frown and the shadows started to move again, Batman taking his place just behind the boy. "What do you mean?"

Damn, he's scary! Danny's a sucker for a deep voice with a growl, damn.

"I, um," Intelligent response, Danny. King of the Realm Between Realms of Infinity. Keeper of Balance, Timeless Protector of the Dead and Living, and he can't even form a proper sentence.

Batman and Robin's stares were uncomfortably similar, even as Robin tilted his head ever so slightly to the right.

For all his wisdom, Danny couldn't see how he could manage to get out of this without using his powers. So, "Gottagobye!" he let intangibility and invisibility wash over him and he slipped through the wall behind him. From there, he let the rings of light cover him and he flew away.

He'll take the L. That was scary as hell!

The night wind brushed against him, the sound of breaking bones and cackling telling him to come by to play again some time. Had Gotham's City Spirit lead her Knight and his child to Danny? Probably. She seemed like the type. At least she seems to like him? Silver linings.

"I'm never going there again," he muttered halfway to Illinois.

Storyboard

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96 @orbr @tkiesai @atomicsheepscientist @8000fangirl @shower-phantom-ideas @blep-23

[genshin-scenarios]

pacts and their marks: demon au

Summary: Where you've accidentally summoned a demon (you’re an exorcist) and now you’re in a pact with them! They’re now your assistant of sorts, some more willing than others…

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Lyney, Wanderer

Content warnings: minor injury and blood (Xiao), mentions of fire and smoke with allusions to death (Lyney), mentions of death and human experimentation (Wanderer)

Generally speaking, Venti likes to float rather than walk if he can help it; he’s gotten the habit of flitting around your form often, hanging off your shoulders and clinging on to you absentmindedly. You might be more annoyed about it if it wasn’t for his voice as he greets you, light and deceptively soothing.

Venti’s music hypnotizes the heart. Whether it be singing or another instrument, he has the ability to convince any being, living or dead, to do as he wishes—so long as his melody isn’t overpowered by their strength of mind.

Honestly, sometimes you wonder if he’s testing the safety-precautions of your pact. You’re invulnerable to his powers thanks to it, but with the way he endears himself towards you, you wonder if his true motive was to steal your affections in another way.

He’s one of the rare demons that blend in with people well. You found him as a spirit living inside an antique lyre; while Venti says he was sleeping there for a lack of anything to do, you have a feeling that there’s another story behind his attachment to the item. He often uses it in battle—its strings glowing with an old magic that matches the shade of his eyes and braids.

You sometimes forget how deadly it is to lose one’s mind in the heat of a fight, when Venti’s lying next to you on the bed as he scrolls on your spare phone. Noticing your attention he peers up, twirling his hair—currently unbraided—between his fingers.

For how much he teases you about praising him, Venti’s never mentioned anything about playing his music to get rid of your nightmares. One time, when you were especially sick, you recall him singing a song in a language you didn’t recognise.

It was hauntingly beautiful, and so was the way he brushed his hand through your hair, too gentle compared to the demons you had to hunt down.

Xiao’s most unique feature had to be his wings; the same dark shade as his hair, dipped in streaks of teal.

During a quiet night, he’d told you they used to be white as snow and gilded with gold. But an angel that kills to protect is destined to fall from the clouds, shrouded by the ghosts of those they have slain.

You know there are others like him, but he says they’ve succumbed to corrosion. He is the only one left, and is one of the only demons you’ve met that hunt down their own species. In an effort to save him from his own corrosion, you’d made a pact with Xiao to link your life forces. 

Despite how he’d told you to leave him, his spirit still reached for yours—towards any form of light and warmth it could meet. Xiao still finds the marks of the pact distasteful, however, always glancing at the dark patterns now etched into your skin. You tell him it’s more reassuring than not, now that you can summon him with a call of his name.

If there’s one word to describe his powers, it’s destructive in every form of the word. Xiao leaves the battlefield entirely demolished after a fight. Sometimes he struggles to control his strength, but it’s been getting easier to do so with your presence to balance his. 

He prefers to throw himself in as the weapon. Which is why when you’re the one that gets injured this time around, all Xiao can do is panic. He holds you in his arms, frozen as he realizes he cannot help.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a serious wound. But after that, Xiao has been a lot more protective of you; almost hyper-aware.

“W—What are you doing, Xiao?” You flinch as he bites into your palm, drawing a small line of blood. 

Xiao hums. “Did you know that even using your blood, I can only heal you a limited amount with our pact?” Another bite, this time with his fangs, frustrated. “Keep that in mind the next time you plan on getting hurt.” You’re lucky the hospital could treat you this time around.

All Lyney knows is that he was reborn in a fire. At the back of his mind, he’s searching for his siblings—though he’s not sure where they are.

Like smoke filling a room, Lyney’s able to create illusions that trick all the senses. At your first meeting, he’d tried this on you; only for one of your protective amulets to diffuse his powers, revealing a larger demon he’d been working with that’d been ready to devour you. 

Suffice to say, Lyney was quick to switch sides once he noticed that you were winning. That, and the demon he was working with turned out to have lied about having a lead for him. After noticing your potential as a partner, he’d been quick to scout for your help.

He often uses his illusions to fool enemies into fighting one-another, redirecting their attention away—but after the pact, Lyney seems to lose his larger-than-life traits and falls into a casual routine with you. It makes you wonder if he’d been human before this, though sometimes he’s more cat-like than not.

If nothing else, he does like to put on a show when you’re faced with a battle. He makes your job easy, considering that your bond allows you to see past his illusions and maneuver around enemies, finding the perfect blind spots. Despite the oddity of your partnership, you start to enjoy the pattern of working with Lyney, from your smooth conversations to his smarts. 

One thing that does throw him off however, is when a demon you were trying to exorcize attempts to form a pact with you. Not that you can’t have multiple pacts at once, but it’s the first time you’ve seen Lyney openly aggressive towards an enemy, striking it with a sharp bolt of flame that diffuses it long enough for you to dispose of it.

With the threat gone, Lyney was quick to check on you, looking for any traces the other demon might’ve left behind. He calms down once he finds nothing, eyes widening when he realizes your faces are only inches apart.

“I…” He looks like he’s about to apologize, but decides against it. “Please don’t make a pact with anyone else. I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

When you first met, Wanderer had tried to turn you into a puppet.

It was his power, after all—to attach strings onto any form and take control of them. These strings could be cut off, but it would only take so long for him to attach them again.

Most people don’t survive their encounters with him, but you’d managed to trap him into a pact right before things went dire. Now you could restrain his actions to a certain extent, though Wanderer would always push against your control, keeping you on your guard.

Many coworkers have told you to simply be rid of him—but just as you’d tricked Wanderer into a pact with you, he’s since linked your heart with his soul. That is to say, if he was exorcized, you’d be going down with him.

It’s a small relief to learn that Wanderer could also puppeteer other demons, thus you put him to work on the field by your side, turning into an unwilling duo. He has a habit of not doing anything unless you make it a ‘command’, leaning closer with a challenge in his eyes even as an enemy charged at the both of you. 

Then, with a snap of his fingers, they’d stop mid-air. As large as the pact's patterns are on your skin, you had to admit that Wanderer’s power was a deadly one.

You’ve always wondered why he had no reactions to injuries; no matter how serious, you’ve never seen Wanderer express pain. Much, much later into your partnership, you learn that he’s become numb to physical sensations a long time ago. And that him turning into a demon was a gift of reprieve more than not, as he’d destroyed and escaped from an experimental facility shortly after.

During a fight where you'd been affected by a tranquilising venom, Wanderer had been the one to save you; your eyes met briefly as you felt his strings take a hold of your form.

“Don't make me look bad now.” He'd said. “Just relax.” 

With not much of a choice, you allowed him to guide your movements. Somehow, it does feel different compared to your first encounter with his powers. With a push and pull between the strings, you could almost say it felt like a dance.

Were Wanderer's movements always this graceful?

Preorders for my wanderer fanbook and genshin letters are open! If you liked this, consider checking out the purple link on my pinned post!

[peachypede]

Au: What if humans had pokemon types?

The idea struck me after seeing some of @bluebellowl ‘s art of Ingo and Emmet wielding flames and electricity and I was thinking ooo what if humans had typings.

Then I made an au with a bunch of headcanons…

More below the cut

(Almost forgot to add that I took some inspo from @critterbitter ‘s Elesa hairstyle because I love how they draw her hair in the back all spiky, electricy like in some of their drawing just yes)

- most humans are purely 1 type, but a rare person may have a dual typing. (Ingo and Emmet are dual types that cover their least publicly liked typing with their more favorable type)

- Some types are more stigmatized and feared than others for have abilities/features that are frightening: Bug, Ghost, Psychic, Poison and Dark types are the 5 most stigmatized groups.

- Most humans have very small or weak abilities, but some are capable of amazing feats.

- Humans tend to favor pokemon partners that share their typings since it’s easier to connect and communicate but some people do like opposite or different typings.

- When babies are born, they’re given a test to see what type they are so their parents will know how to handle their abilities.

- Each types abilities include:

Normal - Sadly, this typing doesn’t get much special abilities. They’re normal humans. A very, very rare normal type can send a hyper beam out of their mouth.

Fire - Can control small flames and are fire resistant. They can warm their bodies up to feverish temperatures without being sick. Some can breathe fire and have flame like hair. Fire types often have irrational fears of water.

Water - They can control small amounts of water. Their skin gets dried out easily and they have to take showers frequently or have humidifiers in their homes. A few individuals have gills that allows them to breathe fully underwater.

Grass - They can breathe life into plants and cause flowers to bloom. If they have a garden, they’ll produce giant and delicious fruit. Some can make plants move on their own, but this is a rare ability. When happy, a lot of grass-type people will sprout plants on their heads. Some even have plant like hair.

Electric - Able to cause small electric shocks and store bits of electricity. Can turn off and on appliances without touching them. Those who take time to learn can communicate with electric Pokémon using the electrical language all electric types know. They can also talk to humans in electric language who are electric types as well.

Ice - Freezing to the touch and tolerant to below zero temps. They can freeze the surface of water by touching their hand to it. They’re a rare type that hardly leave frosty mountain cities and towns because they’re prone to overheating in warmer weather.

Fighting - Stronger than other humans, but few reach true inhumane strength. Rare individuals have an extra set of arms like Machamp. Most take pride in their strength and hone their skills their entire lives.

Poison - Immune to poisons, some even have poisonous breath or saliva. Most of them have to wear masks around people who aren’t fellow poison types. Some individuals have multicolored skin, like frogs warning others that they’re dangerous. People of this type like steel types, because they can remove their masks for once around these people who are immune to them.

Ground - Can feel vibrations in the ground and if they learn, can properly use this as another sense of sight and see things underground. Rare individuals can make the ground shake and have long claws for digging. Some families are known for living underground where they feel more at ease.

Flying - they have a very keen eye for long distance sight. Lots of people with this type have wings. Not all can fly, since one needs large wings and hollow bones to do so, but some can. Most however are gliders. Some have feathers instead of body hair.

Psychic - People with this type usually have one “talent” ability, such as levitating objects or seeing the future. It’s rare for an individual to have more than one of these talents but it has happened before. They’re seen as power houses amongst the other types for their special abilities and usually are seen offering their services in exchange for coin.

Bug - They can attract a lot of bug type pokemon to them via pheromones and with practice, they can even control them. Like ants, bug types can talk through pheromones like alerting to danger, creating trails, or even just generally talking like electric types do (its not all just attracting mates although bugs are more likely to be attracted to other bug people) Grass types dislike the smell of bug types, whereas flying types get hungry around them. Rumor has it that bugs can control others through their pheromones but its just a rumor. Pheromones make it easy to persuade, but can’t truly control people.

Rock - They have skin as tough as rocks and most can dig through rock itself. Rare people look like a cluster of rocks themselves. They dislike water since it erodes away their skin, so they take mud baths and showers instead.

Ghost- Many can float above the ground and go through walls. Similar to ice types, They are cold to the touch. They can see ghost type pokemon even if they are invisible. Rare abilities are being able to see and commune with human spirits. (And only once a century is there an individual who has truly open eyes and can see the entire world of the dead walking amongst the living) People who fear this type spread rumors that ghost types are evil and can raise the dead to do their bidding, but these are only rumors.

Dragon - Noble types that are descended from long blood lines. A lot of individuals have scales and wings and claws. Rare ones can breathe fire. Once in every 100 years there will be a dragon-type who can communicate and wield their type’s pokemon with high efficiency, even mighty legendaries. Families of dragons can be very prideful and look down on other types. Noble families don’t like their children mingling or marrying other types.

Dark - A stigmatized group to the point that their typing is labeled as the “evil” type in some languages. Many have a bad luck effect on the people around them and some can sense disasters before they happen. Dark types often are lonely because of their bad luck charm abilities make other people wary of them.

Steel - Most in this group have skin that shines like a type of metal and are able to bend metals in their hands. They’re immune to poison and bug types abilities, and often are friends with these stigmatized types because of this.

Fairy - This group have small magical abilities and unluck the dark type, they have a lucky effect around them. Some individuals have wings, some have unnaturally colored hair. Fairies have a high social standings with other types because they’re thought to do nothing wrong, when fairies actually often have trouble makers in the midst of them taking advantage of this.

[bouncybongfairy]

Could you do a live action Zuko x reader, they were betrothed to eachother before his banishment. They frequently had visits and got along really well. First time they met he saw her creating a blue butterfly from her fire bending. The reader can produce blue flames but is a gentle, kind person. Zuko is reading the latest letter she has sent him, praying for his safety and health. How does he feel about them after all this time? Maybe this fuel his fire to complete his quest and get home.

See You Soon

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader

Summary: Both Zuko and can't stop thinking about each other, after reading the most recent letters you sent to each other.

Word Count: 2.0k

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s been some time since the last time you’d seen Zuko face to face. Ever since his banishment, so about three years. You’d think those wounds would have healed, a betrothal that was nothing more than a concept faded in time. Anyone who’d know you would say you were well past it, those people obviously weren’t paying close enough attention. Sending each other letters, drawings and pressed flowers. Detailing everything unfolding in his quest to find the Avatar. Her day to day life with school and helping your mom with all the tailoring for the Fire Lord’s family. A very important part in your life considering your family had been tailoring in the palace for generations. Every once in a while you’d send him an embroidered Lion to represent power and leadership, hiding his name tiny within the mane. Although you found comfort in the words of reassurance he gave through ink and paper, it only made you long for something more. Reminiscing on all the precious memories that now feel like they were taken for granted.  

The two of you met by chance, your mother worked in the palace. She made all the clothes for the royal family. Often having you assist, holding her pin cushion or any other request she may have. At first not paying each other much attention, one day Azula came in, berating both your mother and self like she did to all other staff. Hearing horror stories from others in the palace made you terrified of her. The last thing you wanted was to get your family banished for looking at her wrong. Zuko noticed this, and nudged your arm; looking over at her and then rolling his eyes. Giving you a reassuring smile, Azula then nudged your shoulder with hers as she walked out. 

“That girl may be a princess by blood line but not respect from her people. She rules with fear when it should be grace,” you mother grumbled as you walked into the house. 

“That may be true but it must be hard, growing up competing for the throne. Having your entire life mapped out for you even before you’re born. That must be so hard on someone so young, I think I'd break,” pulling your hair out of the tight bun. Your mother smiled, setting the bags on the table. Cupping your face in her hands,

“I love that in a nation so pitiless and jaded that you have kept your soft spirit. You know that, but that girl spoiled down to the soul,” your mother laughs before turning back to her bags.

You laugh and walk into your bedroom to change before heading back outside. The weather was perfect to practice your fire bending. One of the perks of having a mother who worked in the palace was better education for you. Now that you had been learning to bend from a master, you were able to do more than you could ever imagine. At school all you learned was combat or defensive bending. At home, you liked practicing making different shapes. At the beginning it was simple stuff like circles or hearts, with time they were getting more intricate. Being able to make things like flowers, birds and even butterflies. You were in the empty field behind your family's home, working on your bending. You’d finally learned to make the butterfly flap its wings and fly around for a couple moments at a time before dissipating. Taking a deep breath and creating the flames, putting all your focus into manipulating its form. Holding your breath nervously as you watch it fly around you. The blue light glowing off the flame lit Zuko's face up, where he was watching from a couple feet away. You gasped out of surprise and backed away. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to- when Azula nudged you, this fell off your top. I just wanted to return it,” he said, holding out the embroidered patch of a crabapple tree that was pinned to your top. 

“Oh, thank you. Wow I'm really surprised you took the time to return it, as someone with so much responsibility; it’s an honor,” you say, giving him a quick bow out of respect. 

“I’ve only seen masters create such detailed shapes with blue flame, can I help?” he asks, you nod in agreement as he comes closer. He stands behind you, pressing his chest against your back. Nudging your arms up with his hands telling you to create the flame before continuing, 

“Holding your breath limits the amount of time your fire can stay in the air. Like suffocating a candle with its lid. Fire can’t be without oxygen, can you feel my breathing against your back? Match it to yours then try to make the butterfly,” he said. 

You were so nervous but took a deep breath in before matching the rise and fall of his chest. Immediately you could feel the difference, like you had more control over the flames. Being able to make the wing movements sharp and clean. Making the flame circle around the two of you, forcing your bodies closer together. 

“See, isn't that so much better?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I never thought I could have so much control over my bending,” you said, moving to face him. 

“I have to get back but i’ll see you around?” he asked, as he took off in a rush which made you chuckle. 

After that night, it was like fate just couldn’t keep the two of you apart. He was getting fitted more often for leather armor and things like that. Noticing each other in lessons and sneaking glances. This progressed until eventually Zuko became unbothered with who saw the two of you interacting. One day he slipped a note into your bag, wanting to meet later that night. Your heart skipped a beat of course, and for the rest of the day it was all you could think about. The day seemed so much longer now that you had something to look forward to. Practically skipping home from lessons, even though you still had a couple hours before dark. You were happy to be home daydreaming. Your mom was home, cooking komodo chicken. Giving her a kiss on the cheek before heading off to your bedroom. Originally you were going to wear what you always did but part of you felt like the night was too special for your everyday attire. Normally keeping your hair up in a tight bun, you decide to let it down. It took you a while to convince yourself to leave it down but eventually you did.

Everyone was finally asleep, the house dark and quiet. You sneak out the window of your bedroom. Zuko was waiting for you right outside which made you gasp, not seeing it was him at first. He had a big smile on his face, which was refreshing considering he’s been going through alot lately. On a night with such amazing weather, the main city and markets were busy with life. Zuko and you however prefer the peacefulness of looking over the city from the peak of a hill not too far. Zuko was pointing out different constellations in the sky to you. Or showing him new little tricks you were learning with your bending. He always acted really impressed but you knew he was doing it for your benefit. You loved that about him, that he cared so much about your confidence. 

“You know, my father says it’s time to start looking for a girl to betroth,” he says. 

“Oh? Any girls you had in mind?” you ask playfully. 

“No,” he says back in the same playful tone, which makes you elbow him in his ribs. 

“In all seriousness though, how do you feel about that?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“I think I'm waiting for you to ask me properly,” you said chuckling. 

Zuko also felt like he took all these moments for granted. He was currently in his room on the ship. Looking around at all the notes and drawings he’d pinned to the walls. They’d just left where he and his crew were docked, following a lead on the Avatar. Reading the most recent letter you’d sent him, it pained him to know you were feeling the same grief he was about feeling apart. He never really talked about it to his uncle or anyone but it was one of the main reasons he was so motivated to complete his quest. He felt like he was missing out on the most important years of his life. Uncle Iroh always talks about how memorable his late youth was, before he had real responsibilities as general. He missed everything about you. Especially how sweet you were, always finding the good in people. Even finding beauty and grace in Azula; his own mother couldn’t find that in her. 

Often when Zuko was anxious he would think about you comforting him. He knew he could be hot headed both emotionally and physically. This never phased you, even when he was in full blown flames. Always finding a way to calm you down. Somehow reassuring him without making him feel small or stupid. You always used to tell him that anger is a form of passion. That you loved the passion and resilience he had, and that one day he’d be able to channel it without anger. He found so much comfort in you so being ripped away was hard but reading your letters helped. Made him feel like everything wasn’t as impossible as it may seem. Like once he returns home he’ll know you’ll be there to support him. 

He laid back on his bed, your letter on his chest. Worried that you’d grow tired feeling his love through paper and ink. That you’d yearn for love that’s more present in your everyday life. This fear was doubled by the fact that he assumed telling you about this fear would make him come across as insecure. Maybe he was but he didn’t want you to know that. He hated being seen as weak, you were too kind to admit but he knows that exactly what you’d think. Currently thinking about one of the last nights you had together. In Zuko’s old room, laying on the bed together. You were playing with his hair and he had his arms wrapped around your waist. Both of you were pretty tired from training and school. Just melting into each other, enjoying the comfort you gave him. There wasn’t any talking but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. You’d kiss him on his forehead every once in a while, finger combing his hair. Taking in your smell and leaning into your touch. He never felt so vulnerable in a comforting way with someone. 

Iroh came into the room, making Zuko jump up. Clutching onto his letter, immediately his uncle sensed something was off. His eyes were dark and puffy, not to mention quite red. The bruise on his face appeared to be swelling and it was obvious that he was beyond his limit. Iroh set down the wooden tray he carried in, handing him a cup. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this but mentally you are being strained. Bending and combat is easy for you because you’ve done it your whole life. Emotionally, some of your muscles are weak but I can see your slowly strengthening them. It’s important that you get lots of rest while you-” he went to look over at Zuko and stopped talking once he realized the boy was asleep. Iroh held back a laugh before taking the cup and letter out of his hands. Zuko gripped the paper and woke up but settled down once he realized it was him. 

“Rest now, and please truly let yourself rest,” he said, pulling the blanket over him and he laid down. Folding the letter gently and leaving it on the nightstand.

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

I was thinking about Cybertronians freezing in the Arctic due to the ice that forms on them instead of just the cold & not knowing what humidity is again, and what if they weren’t instantly aware of all the abilities of their alt modes?

They’d have a warmup period after scanning them and have to gradually get used to/ discover all the things they can do. There’s little to no water on cybertron, no reason for them to know that ice forms in the cold, no reason for them to have de-icing. And when they come to earth and choose aircraft as their new vehicle modes, they have no idea those aircraft come with built in warmers on the wings.

I thought about how some flying decepticons would deal with it. Let’s go with Starscream first because I love him very much.

(Also because he complains about cold the most out of all the characters. I imagine everyone ices up the same amount, but the cold is an entirely different problem and one that affects him more because he’s all thin and lanky, not very good at retaining heat. It’s worth clarifying that the freezing is what’s dangerous to them. The cold bothers them but isn’t a threat in and of itself, seeing as they can walk around in space just fine. But I ramble on)

- If he had a human friend or partner, he’d be complaining about how cold it is in front of them and they’d be like “Wait, aren’t you a plane?” He’d ask what that has to do with anything and get very annoyed that he didn’t know he came with extra heating.

- He claims he totally knew about that all along and merely forgot about it in the moment. He also claims he totally knows how to turn it on, but…remind him again?

- The realization that he can just… make himself warmer at will is incredible. He’s still gonna complain about the cold though. Probably out of instinct, he complains to fill the silence. (Is it obvious I want him to be safe and warm. I think it’s obvious.)

- Cue a concerned human asking if he’s been flying through clouds and terrible weather and all the way into the stratosphere with ice building on his wings for all this time. How is he still flying? He just replies that he’s built different, and that he’s far superior to human machines yap yap yap blah blah.

- He doesn’t want to admit how great it is, but after the human shows him how to turn it on, he’d be waking around with the de-icing turned on all day, even when he doesn’t need it. I reckon it’d make the area between his wings an excellent nap spot. He could just put a human in there and squeeze them between his wings and it’d feel like being put in one of these bad boys, I dunno what they’re called in English

In any case, peak nap spot.

Up next is Megan:

- Megatron doesn’t actually have an earth based vehicle mode, leading me to believe he wouldn’t have any form of de-icing. My headcanon is that his bigger, bulkier frame would require and generate more heat, but look at him.

He got a lot of nooks and crannies that ice could build up in. Even spikier than Starscream. Much like Starscream he doesn’t have paint which may also have acted like an extra layer of heat insulation. Additionally, his joints on the arms and legs are visible.

(Actually unsure if Starscream is painted and just gray, but Megs definitely isn’t)

- My point is, I’m not an ice expert but Megatron is terrible for both heat insulation and icing prevention. Megatron is a tough bot, he can take a lot of punches, and as prideful as he is I doubt he’d ignore the fact that a snowstorm would be a genuine threat or hinderance to him.

- Not that he’d let anyone notice, of course. He has a reputation to maintain, and he can’t allow anyone to know his weakness. When he’s in private though, I find the image of evil dictator Megs snuggled up in a billion blankets drinking a hot cocoa hilarious. I’ll probably draw it.

- A human pal or partner may not be able to advise him to turn on de-icing that he doesn’t have, but they might be able to offer him another solution. A badass cloak or cape to protect himself from the snow, while also remaining intimidating. Anyone would think it was just for show, unaware that it’s actually to keep him from freezing.

Last but certainly not least, Soundwave!

-Oh, Soundwave totally knew about the de-icing without needing anyone to mention it. Soundwave knows a lot of things. He’d totally read his own altmode’s manual. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Soundwave in the Arctic though.

Trying to find a good gif for my own reference hang on-

- I’d argue that out of these three he’s probably best with the cold. Sure, he’s spiky too, but nowhere near the other two. His “elbows” are awfully small and exposed, but since his wings form the arms there’d be no issue once he turned on the de-icing. In the gif he easily covers his entire body with those huge arms, so he could easily curl up around himself and defrost if be needed to. Now here’s a good writing idea I probably will never use

- Laserbeak probably has its own de-icing, which makes Soundwave extra warm when he requires it. ADDITIONALLY Laserbeak could be deployed in order to warm up a human friend or partner from afar. Tactical warms.

- Not much to say about Soundwave. Maybe I’ll edit and add later.

[sycamorality]

i can't stop thinking about sphinxford from monster falls i, metaphorically, bashed my head at a wall for like the entire time i was drawing this. anyway. since i have my own sphinx depiction i realised i can just blast everyone with a fixation from years ago LMAO enjoy some sphinxford. six fingered freak. the faux eyes are green because he has green vibes To Me while the actual eyes (and true third eye) are brown because thats his canon eye color. anyway i'm not gonna bore you all with my sphinx lore

oh also wingless bc boy those wings sure do cover a lot

[kafukaselect-blog]

The Guillotine Devil's Incredibly Well-Executed Design

The Guillotine Devil has quickly become one of my all-time favorite devil designs in Chainsaw Man.

The exceedingly tall stature of the devil perfectly captures the tall and unwieldy shape of an actual guillotine, and while I would like to say a little more of substance with this post than just "it looks cool"… it cannot be overstated how fucking cool this design looks. The long wings of the bird creating a circular cloak that doubles as the frame of the guillotine is genius.

The skeletal "body" of the devil, if you can even call it that, hangs limply so that attention is drawn to the guillotine device itself, which adds a wonderfully cold and unsettling element to the design, fitting for a cold metal murder machine.

The bird motifs that have been present throughout Part 2 are on full display here, with a design that harkens back to the crows that have been seen throughout the series (Most notably the one Denji stepped on), but with a pigeon head to emphasize its birdbrained nature.

With a tilted head the devil echoes Fami's own signature scale-tilting lean to draw a connection between itself and its owner, similarly to how the Falling devils love of cooking connects it to the food-loving Famine devil.

But while the tilted head's similarity to Fami is great, my favourite aspect would have to be the way that the entire upper body of the Guillotine Devil resembles a severed head after an execution, with the feathers around its shoulders creating a birds-nest-looking basket much like those placed under a guillotine.

Fujimoto absolutely cooked with this design.

[prythianpages]

Stuck on You | Part One

cassian x reader, series masterlist | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

A/N: this was entirely inspired by the scene above from Lilo & Stitch and I thought it was so fitting for Cas. this was also supposed to be a one shot but I decided to incorporate more scenes from the movie and thought it'd be best to split it into 4 parts.

Warnings: some smut, some fluff, mild angst but this part is mainly smut lol (p in v, oral m receiving)

Amidst the Windhaven camp, a bonfire roared to life. The scent of wood smoke mingled with the rich aroma of roasting meat. Warriors, adorned in armor and draped in furs, gathered in a circle around the fire along with their fellow Illyrians, their laughter and cheers echoing through the night.

Cassian was among them, a soothing cup of ale in his hands. Azriel and Rhysand were seated on either side of him. They had chosen to celebrate the end of the War in Windhaven with the warriors they had grown up with and fought beside.

Sparks leapt from the heart of the bonfire, joining the constellation of stars overhead and Cassian’s eyes tracked their movement.  The air resonated with the primal beat of drums, setting the rhythm for the celebration that unfolded and when Cassian’s gaze dropped back again, his eyes fell upon you.

He was struck by your beauty–from your hair, your smile, your eyes and the way the red dress you wore clung to your every curve, drawing attention to the perfect swell of your breasts. He could feel desire pooling within him and a sudden urge to get to know you.

He was on his feet in an instant, ignoring Rhysand’s remark of annoyance as the future high lord had been talking to him moments prior. It didn’t matter to him. He had stopped paying attention to his friend the moment his eyes landed on you.

You were laughing at something your friend had said when he approached you. Your back was turned to him but a not so subtle incline of your friend’s head with a devious smile had you turning around. 

When you finally turned around, your eyes finally locked with his and a small gasp escaped from you. It was as if time itself paused and he wondered if you could also feel that pull, a magnetic force almost pulsing and pulling him close to you.

“Hello,” he greeted with a devilishly handsome smile, pulling you out of your daze. “Can I offer you a drink?”

He caught the way your gaze had flickered down to your occupied hand and when he had tracked the movement, he cursed himself. It had been awhile since he approached a woman he found interest in and he found himself out of practice. He could hear Rhysand and Azriel snickering behind him, even though they were many feet away. His hands were braced behind his back and he sent his friends a vulgar gesture.

“I have one in my hand right now.” You replied, bringing your cup of ale up to show him. He sensed your gaze lingering on him, a silent exploration that traversed every inch of his form with a subtle hint of admiration and then you were chugging the remnants of the amber liquid until there was nothing left behind. He was both impressed and touched.

 Your lips curled up into a sheepish grin. “But I believe it’s time for another.”

Cassian’s smile widened and then he was asking for your name.

**

Cassian spent most of the night by your side,captivated by you. He learned what made you smile, what made you laugh and found that he enjoyed those reactions out of you more than he had expected.  To his pleasant surprise, you did not ask him about the war as many others had earlier in the night, regardless of the siphons and leathers he wore. Instead, you asked him about himself and he found that the two of you had many common interests. He also learned that although you had no wings, you were Illyrian partly from your mother, who had you out of wedlock with a high fae. He had felt a tang of sympathy deep within his chest when you mentioned that due to your half breed and bastard status, you were not perceived well by the camp. He knew that feeling all too well. 

“Dance with me?” He asked, taking your hand in his and effortlessly intertwining his fingers with yours. It was a bold move–a smooth attempt to touch you– and it sent your heart fluttering.

You agreed to his offer with a nod, allowing him to pull you up from your seat. Before the two of you joined the other dancing Illyrians, you drained your cups of ale, the alcohol casting a sweet haze over your minds. Your laughter resonated in his ears like a melodic symphony and he marveled at your fiery and spirited demeanor throughout your dance.

As the bonfire came to an end, its dying embers casting a fading glow, a sense of dread settled over him. He didn’t want the night to end. There was still so much more he yearned to discover about you. Such as what you'd sound like, all the noises you'd make, moaning and whimpering for him.

The glimmer in your eyes spoke volumes and he sensed an echo of his own sentiments reflected in your gaze. You shivered and whether it was from Cassian’s sultry gaze or the slight breeze, you were uncertain. Cassian picked up on the subtle movement. “Are you cold?”

“Yes.” You answered coyly, a light blush tinting your cheeks.

His hazel eyes gleamed with a mischievous mirth as he leaned down to be closer to you, his warm breath fanning your face. “I happen to know a few ways I can warm you up.” 

That’s how the two of you ended up, deep within the forest of Windhaven, with your back pressed against a tree as his lips captured yours in a hungry and feverish kiss. You reciprocated, your mouth moving against his, hot and desperate. He slid his tongue in your mouth and your fingers wove through the elastic holding up his hair, yanking it and relishing in the way his luscious hair was now free to run your fingers through as he continued to explore your mouth. You sucked on the wet muscle, eliciting a delicious groan from him.

“Let me hear you, too.” He rasped as he pulled away, desperate to taste every inch of you. His lips found your neck, licking and sucking on a spot that had you whimpering and arousal pooling down below.

His hand found the back of your knee and gave a light tap. You complied with his silent request, wrapping one leg around his waist and pressing him further into you. Warmth flooded the both of you as you could feel his hardened length against your clothed core.

Your dress had hiked up your thigh and Cassian pushed it further up, allowing it to pool at your hips. His fingers found the spot you craved him the most and took pleasure in the way you were already dripping for him when he had barely touched you. His fingers were pushing your underwear aside and you let out another whimper as he pressed a thumb against your sensitive clit.

“Louder.” He murmured against your neck and once again, you followed his command, your moans growing louder as he began to thrust his fingers into you.

But you were keen on hearing more of him, too.

Your hands reached for his leathers, palming him before your fingers danced over his clasp. Cassian must’ve sensed your struggle. His movements halted for a brief moment and he helped you. When his cock sprang free, your eyes darkened and mouth watered at the sight of him. He was big, bigger than you had ever taken. You felt your core ache, wondering if he’d even fit in you, and you were suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to find out. You wanted to touch him, taste him, feel all of him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his head falling back. Your hand wrapped around his length, barely able to reach around him and his eyes screwed shut as you began to move. “Fuck, just like that, baby.”

Cassian was too lost in the pleasure of your hand. You gave him a hard squeeze that had his hips jerking and when your thumb swept over his tip, he was spilling into your hand and onto your thigh. His eyes were open in an instant, widening in shock. His cheeks tinted in embarrassment.  Never in his life had he cum so fast.

“Shit, I’m so sorry–”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a gentle giggle. 

Amid the pleasure flooding through him, he also felt a wave of relief, seeing no trace of disappointment etched onto your features. Instead, there was a devious spark in your eyes as you brought your hand to your mouth and licked your fingers clean. Cassian’s sensitive cock throbbed at the lewd gesture and when you opened your mouth to speak, you stole the words he had planned to say next right from his mouth: 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Cassian’s hazel eyes clouded with lust as you dropped to your knees before him, taking his throbbing cock into your hand again. He was already half hard. He was used to being the one in control when it came to sex but for just this moment, he decided to allow you to have control, already planning on ways to return the favor.

Your eyes locked with his as you licked a long and slow stripe up the underside of his length. Your tongue curled against his tip, savoring the remnants of his cum with a hum that sent delightful vibrations through him. He was a moaning and whimpering mess when you finally took him into your mouth. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand and you made sure to praise him for it, using your hands to work the rest of his sinful length.

"You look so pretty with my cock down your throat."

Cassian’s hand was gripping your hair, holding you in place as he bucked into you and you swallowed him down greedily. “Oh fuck,” he panted, the muscle in his thighs shifting as he felt his stomach tighten and then he was abruptly pulling you away.

As much as he would love to spill into that lovely mouth of yours, knowing you would eagerly swallow every drop, he refused to come undone again. At least not before he settled the score between you both.

“Get up.” He growled.

When you rose to your feet, he wasted no time in unlacing the back of your dress and stripping you from your undergarments, craving to have you bare before him as he rid himself of his leathers. His eyes raked over your body as he backed you against the tree, pupils flaring when they landed on your breasts. His hand reached out to give one a squeeze before rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching, while his mouth claimed your other one.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He muttered against your breast, tongue flicking over your nipple.

“Then, fuck me.”

A deep, guttural growl escaped from him at your request. He needed you and he needed you now. His lips curled into a smirk and by the look in his eyes, you knew you would pay for your bossy tone. Your thighs clenched in anticipation. 

“Gladly.”

His hands were gripping you firmly as he turned you around, roughly pressing your front against the tree. His leg tapped against your knee, prompting you to arch your back and spread your legs further for him. You were soaked for him, arousal dripping from that pretty cunt of yours. He gripped his aching cock and without warning, thrusted into you, a gasp escaping from both of your lips at the rough intrusion.

Pain and pleasure rippled through your body. You’d never felt so stretched, so full and you wanted more. “Gods,” you breathed, whimpering when he began to slowly pull out only to slam into you again. 

Cassian hissed as your walls fluttered around him. He was thrusting into you, fast and hard, filling the air with your slick and wet noises. He took pleasure in the way you had to brace yourself against the tree, the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. He brought one hand up to knead the soft flesh again while the other yanked on your hair, pulling you flush against his warm and sweaty chest.  

“So fucking good f’me.” He praised you, panting and grunting into your ear. The hand that gripped your hair was now trailing down, his fingers rubbing against your clit, making your eyes roll back at the immense pleasure building up and tightening in your stomach. “Taking me so well.”

“Cassian.” 

“Say my name again.” He pounded into you mercilessly, thrusts growing harder as he found the spot that had your toes curling.

“Cassian.”

 “That’s right, baby. I want you to know that only I can fuck you like this. Only I can make you feel this good. You’re going to remember my name forever.”

"Yes, yes, yes."

His words were your undoing and had you clenching around his length with a cry as your orgasm washed over you. His thrusts grew erratic and you knew he was close. 

“Where can I cum?” His voice was desperate, carrying an urgent plea.

Your senses were clouded with his kisses against your neck and his breathy noises but you knew what he was asking. You were on the tonic so you arched yourself further and with a shaky voice said: “Inside me.”

“M’ gunna fill you up so good.” He told you as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly, his fingers still toying with your sensitive clit, blurring your vision with tears.

“Please.”

Your legs were trembling and you squeezed around his cock so hard, it had him stilling inside you as another orgasm washed over you. His hips pressed against your ass, hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there’d be bruises as he followed after you. He spilled into you, thick ropes of cum painting your walls with a deep roaring groan.  The two of you remained still, your back pressed against his chest for a moment, basking in the aftermath of pleasure.

When he finally pulled out and released his grip on you, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as your legs gave out. His strong, muscled arms reached out to steady you and guide you to face him once more. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the way he had fucked you, before he dropped to his knees before you. He splayed a large hand against your abdomen to hold you steady.

You arched a brow at him, your chest heaving as you panted, still recovering from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. "What--what are you--"

“I'm not done with you yet, Sweetheart.” He grinned up at you, wrapping one of your legs around his shoulder. “It’s my turn to have a taste.”

**

Seven years later…

“And that was the best night of my life.” Cassian said with a sigh as he remembered all the pretty sounds he drew out from you that night. 

You were so beautiful, so perfect. He had never felt so much pleasure with someone the way he did with you. He had intended to ruin you for other men but instead, you had ruined him. He wondered if you still thought of him as he did of you, if you still remembered him even.

“Yes, we know.” Azriel replied, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance. 

“Should I be offended?” Mor quipped but there was no semblance of hurt or hard feelings in her features.

“We’ve heard this story so many times.” Amren grumbled, her arms crossed against her chest.

“If I had a sip for every time he brought up this female, I think I’d be a lot more tipsy than I am right now.” Rhysand muttered, glaring at the amber liquid in his glass.

"Her name is y/n," Cassian rolled his eyes with an amused grin. “Besides, you guys are the ones that suggested this drinking game.”

“Yes.” Rhysand nodded with an almost regretful tone. It was actually him who had been the one to pick the game of the night.  “And the question had been, do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Same thing.” Cassian replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Cover up, will you?” Amren’s sharp voice had Cassian’s eyes widening. She threw a pillow harshly at him before he could even blink. He placed it over the growing tent in his leathers and her nostrils flared. “Gods, I can smell you too, your horny wretch.”

“If she was such a great fuck, I don’t know why you didn’t ask her out.” Rhysand spoke next and Mor nodded her head in agreement.

“She left right after, remember?” Cassian replied, tone laced with exasperation as he dragged a rugged hand down his face. He leaned back on the loveseat, smothering his wings in the process. “And how was I supposed to know she wasn’t from Windhaven?”

“You could’ve simply asked.” Azriel retorted with an amused expression on his face as he brought his glass to his lips.

“Perhaps, we should call it a night.” Rhysand said as he rose from his seat. He then looked at Cassian and Azriel. “Don’t want you two to show up to your assignment tomorrow with a raging hangover anyway.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Cassian grinned, standing up as well with the pillow still placed over his crotch.

“I need you two to be alert and ready to confront Kallon at Ironcrest.” Rhysand glared but there was amusement flickering within his eyes as he glanced toward the pillow. “So please make sure that is taken care of. I wouldn’t want the war lord’s son to think he gave you a raging boner.”

Azriel chuckled but it was short lived as Cassian hurled the pillow in his grasps at his face, taking delight in the way the pillow met its target precisely.

“Gross.” Mor couldn’t help but laugh.

**

The quaint tavern nestled within the heart of Ironcrest emanated a strangely and surprisingly inviting warmth. Dimly lit lanterns hung low, casting a soft, amber glow that danced upon the aged wooden beams and worn floorboards. Wooden tables, scarred with the history of countless shared moments, were scattered throughout the room, each surrounded by mismatched chairs worn by the passage of time. The hum of hushed conversations and occasional laughter created a lively ambiance.

Azriel’s shadows dispersed from his limbs and silently scattered across the small tavern keen to relay any important information to their master. Meanwhile, Cassian’s eyes darted around the room as he found an empty table for them to sit at. Their visit with Kallon had been exhausting, to say the least.

Rhysand had sent them to assess the dissent simmering within the camp of Ironcrest. It appeared that the camp-lord’s son was growing mouthy and shamelessly voicing his disdain for Rhysand. They suspected that there was more to the situation at hand so after their meeting with Kallon, they decided to linger around the camp a while longer and when they found the tavern, they were eager to see if they’d pick up on any more details from the villagers.

Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed as he saw a little girl, finding it strange that she was alone in a place like this. He watched as the girl aggressively scribbled onto the notebook in front of her. Her small wings were tucked behind her and her lips were pursed in deep concentration. He couldn’t help but notice a familiarity in her eyes, the curve of her nose and lips but he was sure that he’d never seen this girl in his life before.

And then he saw you.

His breath hitched and he forced himself to blink because surely that wasn’t–couldn’t be you standing in front of the little girl. You were placing a plate of food in front of the little girl with a fond smile, reaching out to brush back a few stray hairs that had fallen from her braid. He took the both of you in, realizing why the little girl had seemed so familiar.

It was because she looked like you.

[series masterlist]

[nvuy]

Rlly unhinged sexy Sunday thought but what if he collars us wt a rosary (wraps it around our neck a few times and tugs on it… maybe restrains our hands with it uhhhhh)

mdni, explicit themes and inappropriate groping, uhhhh, restraints, tried to keep this as gn as possible, you’re a little shit, and this is lowkey a brat tamer sunday take. realistically sunday is a loser virgin but pretend he’s an uber chad here or something idk im mega horny.

i had this in my inbox for so fucking long and i can’t gatekeep it anymore this is genuinely the best thing i’ve ever heard in my life.

“It hurts only slightly less if you behave.”

There’s the draw of his finger up the underside of your arm. He’s discarded his gloves and folded them neatly beside you, simply admiring you as you squirm and writhe and snap your teeth when his hands veer close to your lips.

Sunday smiles, but it’s more of a curious purse of his lips.

His eyes flit up to your wrists and he intakes sharply through his teeth. There’s an unintentional whistle as his hand curls around the ropes pulling at your skin.

“Ouch.” He tugs once teasingly at the rope.

The skin of your wrists was sore and dark, welts pulled in an intricate mimicry of the lined patterned of the rope as you tugged and tugged, and all it resulted in was burns and the rattling of the bed head.

Sunday turns for a moment.

You catch an inch of his spine through his shirt, and those gorgeous and destroyed wings behind his back.

He’s turned to grab something. A string of beads, and they’re beautiful. They click together mutely, and you realise from the hollow dry sound that the beads are wooden.

Interwoven is a thick silken string, silver baubles between each four, and a simple charm. An eye of sorts falls at the end and spills over his palm. It is entirely silver, like the string.

He hums.

You take it as a distraction.

Angry, and to intentionally rile him up, you reel a knee back and attempt to jut your shoe forward to shove him off the bed with your heel.

It would hurt. You knew it would’ve. You wanted to leave bruises that you could kiss in the morning.

His fault he wanted you strapped in these stupid heels. You’ll use them how you damn please.

Unsurprisingly, his hand juts behind him and grasps your ankle tight. The heel almost falls off of your foot, but he’s quick to direct his hands and push your shoe back on gently.

His fingers card up your leg softly.

“Untie me,” you all but beg.

A breathy chuckle escapes him.

Then, he crawls slightly, from the edge of the bed to slot himself between your legs. You accomodate for him, locking one of your thighs around him while he keeps his hand on the other, pressing his thumb in slow circles around the plush skin.

He leans forward over you towards your face, and delicately pulls the beads around your neck.

His loss, actually.

You grind down on him hard, feeling the outline of his hardening cock through his pants. The slip and friction of your clothes surge heat there, and Sunday hisses and tugs harshly at your arms.

You cry out when the rope pulls again.

“Insatiable,” he whispers. “You never know when to stop.”

Despite the pain, you draw your heel up and down his leg.

He knows what you’re doing.

You giggle and grind on him again. “You want to fuck me so bad.”

This time, he reels back and you whine at the loss of heat. There’s an angry bristle of feathers along your neck, and you’re pulled forward by the throat with the beads wrapped around your neck.

Sunday holds tight. The stretchy silk string does not break, and you feel your skin pinch at the ropes around your wrists again.

You can’t tease him with how he’s pulled himself up and away from you, but you can see his halo positively glowing, and you hope he’s probing around in your head and seeing all of the horrible things you want to do to him.

“Come on, wings. What do you want to do first?”

“Oh? Are you in charge now?” Sunday asks gently, tilting his head to the side. He pulls on the beads once, and he smiles when you try to press your lips to his.

Still, his wings flutter softly.

Bumbling, lovesick idiot.

You coo. “You’re so cute when you’re trying to act scary. Want your dick sucked? Wanna fuck my thighs? Lay it on me, Sunny.”

Sunday hums, perhaps weighing your options. They do sound nice.

Instead, he keeps a firm grip on the rosary beads around your neck until your forehead bumps softly against his.

His other hand drags over your chest. He’s always so gentle; for a man that’s adept at keeping to himself and remaining cold to open arms, he couldn’t hurt a fly. His warm eyes give it away every time.

His thumb deftly unbuttons your pants and you giggle when he hooks around the zipper and peels it down.

Then, his fingers venture beneath your navel, past the waistband of your underwear, and the pads of his fingers tease the skin between your legs.

You’re already sensitive, and it’s almost embarrassing.

“Aww,” you stutter. His lips quirk upwards and his hands speed up between your legs. “You gettin’ me off first?”

Sunday laughs, and it almost sounds cruel and cold. “Think of it more as… a lesson.”

You mumble in agreement, and you hear him snort when your lashes flutter.

When your eyes flit down to the hand between your legs, Sunday tuts and he tugs at the beads.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he orders. It’s a whisper, barely audible, but it sends of a surge of blood between your legs, and your face burns even hotter. “Or I will stop.”

You giggle. “Sure.”

“A lesson in patience,” he continues quietly. And, holy fucking shit you’re already so ridiculously close you squirm around him. “I find that you garner none of the sort.”

Through your squirming and giggling and moaning, he manages to toss your clothes to the side before he slots his hand back between your legs. His fingers are coated in slick, and it’s so fucking hot your veins felt like they were set alight.

You groan, and it’s pathetic. “Kiss me.”

Sunday leans only slightly closer, and then thinks against it.

His fingers are good. So good you cry out and twist in his hold, and it’s a struggle between grinding down on his palm and fighting the sensitivity coursing over the wet skin between your legs.

Either way, it hurts and aches, and Sunday’s eyes glance at the way your wrists writhe in their restraints.

He almost misses how you throw your head back against the pillows.

He stops and removes his hand.

You freeze, a treacherous ache surges between your thighs as you try to chase his palm, and then you make a noise.

“Eyes on me,” he repeats.

You’re throbbing between your legs. “C’mon.” You try to squirm your hips towards him. All that does is gain you another harsh tug at the neck from the beads.

You feel like a dog.

It’s probably what he’ll resort you to when he eventually fucks himself into your throat.

His wings flutter again when you beg.

A teasing hand runs up the skin between your legs again, and he breathes a light giggle when you twitch.

“Not so tough now, are we?” he asks, ever so gracious and gentle. His hand returns between your legs and your hips buck beneath him. “Tell me what you want.”

“Let me cum on your hand, loser.”

Sunday snorts and draws his hand back again. You kick out instinctively and whine.

“Patience,” is all he murmurs in your ear.

“Fuck patience. Let me ride you.”

Lightly, his nose brushes against yours as he draws his face close. His thighs are practically straddling your torso when lightly he smacks your mouth. “Watch your tongue, or I’ll bruise it.”

You like the sound of that.

[alllgator-blood]

I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

[the-monkeies-girl]

If reader survived such an accident, he would make sure that whenever she would travel alone, his eagle would accompany her (wether she knew it or not).

I'm almost.... oh my god okay okay okay okay okay listen you tempted me with this i need to do it for the greater good

Noa, Eagle Sun / Reader Headcanons - Interactions.

Your relationship with Eagle Sun started out the same way that the Eagle's relationship was with Noa at the start of the movie. Very rough around the edges, the bird was very unsure of you, not sure how to view your relationship with his Master. He clawed at you a few times out of defense when you got too close to Noa when he was perched on his shoulder; sensing it to be a threat rather than you just wanting to embrace the Ape. You swore that bird was never going to hear the end of it from Noa as he scolded him like a child. ~*You felt so bad for him and tried to pet his beak after Noa told him to back off ( in simple terms ) but he just squawked loudly and you were fast to hide behind Anaya and Soona who were watching the entire thing happen with the utmost amusement. He flapped his wings in your general direction again causing you to cower even further. ~*Followed by more scolding from Noa as he tried his hardest to explain to the bird that you were not a threat, you were more than allowed to be in Noa's space. He just blinked innocently - those little beady eyes staring holes into you.

It didn't take long for him to warm up to you though; you offered him a bit of fish once and he took it graciously. Noa told you not to do that, but you did it anyway.

Began bringing you berries to eat as an acceptance of you, an acknowledgment of the treat you had given him. Noa thought it was nice until he was absolutely nailed between the eyes by a rather quickly flying blueberry.

He began following you happily at that point, surely from Noa's commands, but he was a happy bird regardless. All around the village, in the woods, by the creek. Eagle Sun very often was either over head soaring or perched against a tree branch, you in his sight. ~* It just meant that you were trusted, good natured and more than decent to follow around - Noa had told you how intuitive the birds were and you accepted his following as a small compliment in Eagle form.

If you were with Noa, Eagle Sun was often sitting on his Master's shoulder, peering at you, waiting diligently for a command from Noa. If there were no immediate commands, Eagle Sun would jump over to you, never on you, but right in front of you and beckon you to pet. ~* You comply, placing a pointer and middle finger against the birds head and giving him a small pet. He's responsive, will peck at your fingers for more if you pull away too soon. ~* Noa could have sworn that one time while you were giving some affection to his bird that Eagle Sun looked right at him and almost mocked him. Noa told you of this but you told him it simply wasn't true. That he must have been imagining things.

The first time that Eagle Sun ever landed on you was in part to Noa who urged you to try it out - Hopeful to see if you were comfortable with it. He just got out of a council meeting where the prospect of you getting your own Eagle, to be bonded with an egg, was a hot topic of conversation. First though, before the final decision was made, Noa needed to see if you had any fear ( much like the fear Noa had at the beginning. ) ~* Eagle Sun did not land on your arm like you had hoped - He landed on your shoulder, placing himself rather precariously on you to the point where he shuttered for balance. His tiny claws grasped onto you a bit harder than you would have liked- but not enough to draw blood yet. His tiny beak went down, then back up with a few strands of your hair. You didn't move, you couldn't as your eyes shifted to Noa, Anaya and Soona. You questioned with your eyes what you were supposed to do- You had no idea why he landed there when you had so diligently offered your arm. Well, Noa thinks to himself, at least you're not afraid of him anymore.