#at 12 am

[taruruchi]

EVERYONE, DRUM ROLL PLEASE!!!!!

INTRODUCING THE ONE, THE ONLY......

Mama Ashengrotto <3333 (ft. Taruchi)

Yup!!! I came up with a design for her (and her husband 🫢)!!! And I intend to make a separate post for both of them, basically showing off how they look instead of a silly drawing like this one jdkdlsd so look forward to that! (Fair warning: I'm also suuuper busy so idk exactly when I'll get to that uhhh unless yall steal my notebook <3)

[theflikchic]

I was trying to fall asleep last night at 12 AM and I swear I was struggling bc I kept thinking about how right before dying, Snape- in trying to explain why Harry should trust him to go to the forest- gave Harry the memories that showed his entire process of being indoctrinated into a cult from childhood and his process of getting out of it. And I don't even think he did it on purpose.

It's as if he was like- "Here are the memories that will explain my life" and they happened to also chronicle his whole dang process. I mean, he even gave Harry that memory where he claims that he thought using Dark Magic was funny. His indoctrination was fking included and none of it paints him in a good light. And yet.

If those are the memories that spilled out of him on purpose- like his life literally flashing before his eyes- it absolutely stuns me that all the memories he immediately thought of AND the ones he vulnerably gave Harry (with no choice, mind you) were the ones that revealed that he was a kid indoctrinated into a cult, was actually into it, and still got out of his own accord (idc why, he got OUT).

And for some reason- even though he actually got out- I get the sense that from how badly he's shown in those memories, he's still angry at himself for getting into the Death Eaters in the first place. His process of getting out is pathetic and sad and ugly because that's what happened and somehow, he doesn't choose to show it any other way (he's dying ofc but still). It's even in character for him to just...show things as they are or how he thinks things just are (a flaw at times).

But that memory of Dumbledore implying that perhaps Snape should have been in Gryffindor stuck with him despite how damn ugly and selfish his act of leaving the Death Eaters looks. And it's almost like he never really knew how to deal with that implication even while dying.

I am not a fan of the name 'Albus Severus'. But...it's like Harry saw Snape's whole process when Snape himself couldn't or did and was unable to forgive himself for being indoctrinated in the first place. Harry, who spent his whole life hearing that once a wizard goes Dark, they don't care about anything or have no chance of coming back.

It does say something to me that Harry seems to have forgiven Snape for things Snape could never forgive himself for.

[vix-png]

drew a little something and COLORED IT ?!!??? (uneheard of)

spoilers for mudd's arc (around episodes 60+)

i love doodling this goober and gumbo but i need a gumbo design 💔💔

ANYWAYS ABOUT THIS SCENE

i thought it was really funny how mudd's reaction to hearing his brother relay him the news abt his dad was just "oh." but at the same time i understand

because like. if my brother told me a family member was sickly in front of my friends i wpuldnt know how to react either

BART COMFORTING HIM and syaing its ok to feel upset and mudd replies "uh, yeah, im sure" and moves on

headcanon both mudd and kyborg struggle with showing sadness (kyborg feels like he has a reputation to uphold and he doesnt want to seem vulnerable while mudd is just not used to those emotions and it makes him feel awkward and unsure how to express them, esp around friends)

but bart and gum gum are the opposite, they're both more free in showing their lows (bart and gum gum are better with communication if something upsets them, they're generally more affectionate than the rest of the party, etc) since bart believes its ok to feel what you feel and he raised gum gum with that mindset

conclusion bart and gum gum are helping kyborg and mudd loosen up and this is canon to me acrualtl

[crow-with-a-knife]

Who wants to go out at night with scary makeup on, dressed like vampires, and get snacks.

[vindieselsfacebook-blog]

“You could’ve picked me”

I AM STRAIGHT UP NOT OK OH MY GOD

[karimimi]

i saw this in a dream

[malenjoyer]

WE'RE SO BACK

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[awriterandabird]

i made this fuckass table in spore [2008]

[hinamie]

inflict

[daiwild]

Trucy is not shy, something is just off about Kristoph.

[aquanutart]

THEY'RE BACK!!!! my childhood manga!!!

[cowboy-cheezcake]

The soft little cookie who once looked after the cream sheep

Oh how tragic your fate will be

[imsofreakingtired]

barges through the wall like the kool-aid man

Buy Sevika flowers.

Please. Please she probably never received a beautiful bouquet before and I desperately yearn for soft hours with Sevika

SHE SO DESERVES FLOWERS I AGREE I AGREE

i will take good care of you

content warning(s): none

"and all the quiet nights you bear seal them up with care no one needs to know they're there for i will hold them for you."

~~~

** set post canon, Councilor!Sevika x reader. because oh my god i cannot accept that she’s all alone in there **

~~~

You stand in the doorway. Sevika hasn’t seen you yet. 

She is at her desk, the way she is every night. The desk of rich Noxian wood, inlaid with swirling patterns of gold. The desk came with the apartment, which came with the seat at the Council, which came with a new kind of fight that you had to watch Sevika go through day after day. 

The battles were won, the losses counted, the blood spilled and cities destroyed and rebuilt. Ambessa was dead. Hextech destroyed. The sister cities were forced to reconcile in the face of the realization that they had come very, very close to the end of the world. 

Piltover is quiet at night. Nothing like the undercity, where you would hear fights breaking out on the streets every hour of the day, drunks wailing from filthy doorsteps, dogs howling in the alleyways. No; Piltover was like a slumbering golden beast. 

And your Sevika, the new leader of the underdogs, the voice of the city the two of you had grown up in—the city that never slept. If Piltover was the idle lion, Zaun was the hungry wolf. You see the hunger still in your wife’s eyes. You see how she charges into every debate, every argument at the Council Table the same way she charged into battle years ago. Every reform, every proposal she makes, is met with a near unanimous opposition. A mandate that would have taken half a day to pass from a Piltover Counselor took weeks when it came from the Zaunite Counselor. 

Sevika has hung up the arm Jinx had made for her on the wall behind her desk, and it gleams in the lamplight like a trophy. Still she hasn’t noticed you—she is poring over the files on her desk, the endless paperwork awaiting her every night seeming to have no end. 

You want to take her in your hands tenderly, you want to crush the burdens she carries into an insignificant ball. You want to tell her to rest. But you've learned Sevika didn't like words that have no meaning: she cannot rest, and you and Sevika both know this. 

So you show it through actions. 

You walk up to her, standing behind her. She glances up briefly. 

“How was the academy today?” 

“Fine,” you say. “The pupils learn fast.”

“Hm.” She is preoccupied with the paperwork. You rest your hands on her shoulders and find them tight with tension. Your fingers knead her muscles, their strength making her groan involuntarily. 

“You work too hard.” 

She laughs dryly. Her prosthetic arm is off—the new one she bought from the Piltover mechanic, a simple and elegant arm of light gold, no weaponry assets. She’s still wearing the formal cape, and from where you’re standing she looks smaller and wearier than you remember. 

“Come to bed,” you say, massaging the tension out of her neck. You feel her relax at your touch, the muscles softening beneath her warm skin. 

“In a minute.” 

“Not in a minute. Now.” 

“You go ahead, baby.” She sighs. “I have to get this done.” 

You never feel so helpless as in moments like these, when she seemed to be trapped between one duty and another, when it felt like the world expected your wife to be everywhere at once, doing everything at the same time. 

You don’t know how to ease her load. There just seemed to be no end to it. You try to think of the last time you saw her smile, really smile, and find you can’t remember. 

You look around her office. The walls are plain, devoid of paintings. Besides Jinx’s mechanical arm on the wall, there isn’t much to relieve the somber atmosphere. 

“Sevika,” you say suddenly, “what are your favorite flowers?”

“Flowers?” she repeats in an absent tone, looking over a text on trade policy. “I don’t know. I don’t think much about flowers.” 

A pause, and she looks up at you, as if surprised to see your question was serious. 

“I remember picking moonflowers when I was small,” she says. 

“Moonflowers?”

“Yeah, the pale blue ones that grew near the mines. The only things that could survive in that air. More weeds than anything.” She shrugs. “I remember picking one a day to give to my mom when she came back from work. She never threw them away, even after they wilted. Then one day she didn’t come home at all.”

You squeeze her shoulder. Her mother had died in a cave-in at the mines when she was young. You had lost your own parents to the same kind of accident. 

Sevika looks at you, amusement in her eyes. “I don’t remember the last time we ever talked about something like flowers.” 

~~~

The next day you ask your academy supervisor permission to take off work early. Since you have no afternoon classes anyway, the permission is granted. You walk briskly down to the marketplace and go into the florist’s shop. 

When you ask the leopard vastaya man at the counter for a bouquet of moonflowers, he shakes his head. “Those are just weeds from the undercity. I don’t sell them in bouquets. You can buy a full bouquet including them as decoration.” 

“I want only the moonflowers. You can take them out of every bouquet and gather them together, I’ll pay however much it costs.”

He looks at you as if you’re crazy, but he sets to work. You leave the shop fifteen minutes later with a bunch of moonflowers in gleaming wax paper tied with a ribbon. They are beautiful with notes of gray, and in flashes they hold the same color as Sevika’s eyes. They look like hope. They look like Zaun. 

When Sevika comes home that night you present them to her with a tentative smile. All day you’ve angled them this way and that in her office, changing the vase twice to try to find the right look. You’re not sure if she would even like the gift, or if she would find it painful. 

Sevika stares at you. “What’s this?” 

“Moonflowers,” you say dumbly. Both of you can clearly see that. You can’t read her expression, and you start to feel nervous. “I just wanted…I wanted to make you feel lighter.” 

Lighter. Happier. You want to give her the world. You want to give her the moon, the stars, the warmth of your very soul. You want to show her she is not alone in this fight. 

Sevika takes the flowers and buries her nose in them, eyes closed. Then she looks up at you. “They’re beautiful,” she says, her voice husky.

Sevika sees her childhood in their petals. She sees the hope in the heart of the little girl inside her. She sees the wrinkles of her mother’s tired smile. She sees the bright eyes of young Zaunite children. 

“Sevika,” you say, worried, “Sevika, are you crying?” 

She wipes roughly at her eyes, giving you a smile as genuine as sunlight. “No, darling. Thank you.”

~~~

note: ah...this was meant to be fluff but it turned out angstier than i intended... i can still call it fluff if it involves flowers right...?

thank you @demothers-empty-blog for the req :)

[donteverchxnge]

“see what I like about him is that he’s sarcastic but he’s thoughtful and appreciative too”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

your honor they’re MARRIED

[kruegerspillow]

small arguments with simon riley would be like...

well, you don't argue with simon often

so when a conflict DOES ignite between the both of you, there'll be no funny businesses

the whole damn argument, simon stares at you blankly. no thoughts behind those eyes, until you're done speaking.

"love." yes, it's that nickname again.

he feverishly needed to talk it out between the both of you, not wanting to ruin the relationship he'd spent his whole life wishing upon.

but the words always get stuck in his throat.

so, instead of speaking, he'll let a few minutes of silence pass, giving the both of you to gather your composure back.

buuut his reaction/reply to the argument would be different. it depends on who is in the wrong. if it is you who's in the wrong, he'll most likely isolate himself for a while, most likely for a few hours/maximum a DAY. he'll lowkey die without you around him.

he doesn't hold grudges, so a few apologies and kisses from you is enough. but his trust? a bit bruised (as long as you didn't say anything too far!) but nothing that you can't fix.

he'll let you pamper him all day.

under one condition—he won't let you buy anything for him as an apology. that's his job. your apology and presence is enough.

but if it is him who's in the wrong? oh, the silent guilt will gnaw at the bars of his enclosure.

for example: whenever you lecture or tell him to take care of his health, he'll most likely brush it off as if it was nothing.

and that pisses you off, because you care deeply about him.

you'll probably start telling him off, rambling about how he needed to listen to you more.

until he rolled his damn eyes at you.

that's your breaking point. your annoyance reached its peak point.

"can you— can you listen to me for once, riley?"

that caught his attention.

he immediately tensed up at the sudden change in your tone, shifting in his seat so that he's fully facing you.

but when he met your gaze, he was far too late. your tears already threatened to spill.

panics in the inside AND outside. his eyes widen in surprise and hands twitch in desperation. he wanted to reach out to you but he didn't know if it would make it worse or better.

so, he stayed—with the feeling of regret punching him in the guts.

he watched you sniffle, turning your head away from him as the silence took over the conversation— well, argument. one sided argument.

until you shifted closer to him. he took that as an offer.

immediately goes up to you and wraps his arm around you. he's quiet for a while, mumbling apologies and promises (that you need to remind him of)

once your sobs and sniffles come to an end, it's his turn to speak

"love, i know you've heard this a million bloody times, but 'm sorry."

"should've listened to ya, yeah?"

"it's okay sweet'eart, let it out."

"fuck, if i could i'd stop those tears of yours from flowing, i would."

and in a few hours, you'll get your favorite takeout, snacks and flowers. he'll pamper you with kisses all day.

(he won't promise to stop being stubborn though. that's one unique part of him that you loved, anyway.)

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