#I did trace this and colored it in with pencil but it’s so bad

[starryluminary]

*long, droning sigh* I gave in

[yournightmary]

you should write something where reader is a primary teacher, and ellie is a volunteer/fill in music teacher :D they meet and romance happens or something (i’m bad with words 😀) <3

Play Date | E.W.

content warning:: fem!reader, I guess dealer!Ellie but not really?, bad writing

AN:: not proofread because i’d rather shoot myself than read my own writing. I’m so sorry if it’s bad but i’ve tried my best😔 also no idea hot to tittle things

Whoever told you that being a daycare volunteer is a good idea was wrong- on many, many levels may I add.

You always thought that kids were just cute tiny humans but that changed with your first day at the daycare in Jackson. Most of the kids were boys, there were maybe three girls total. And you never even took into consideration that fall just started, so did every kind of colds and sicknesses possible.

What’s worse than a snotty, nasty seven year old boy tugging on your shirt with his grimy hands? A whole room of them. You only took this job because Maria asked you to. She said something about you ‘wasting your potential by going on patrols’. And by potential she meant the fact that you can read, write and do basic math… sometimes.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

You pushed the door of the daycare building open, furrowing your brows softly at the scratchy sound they’d made. It was almost winter, thankfully. Maria said you wouldn’t have to work once the snow falls, something about patrols not going out as often in bad weather. You shrugged off your jacket, hanging it on the wooden coat rack.

Before you could do anything else you’ve heard a knock on the door, immediately rolling your eyes in annoyance. You took your sweet time getting to it, muttering profanities under your breath.

“Daycare isn’t open until 7:30, sorry.” You opened the door with a sigh, your tone as cold as the outside air.

“Uh- Maria asked me to help you? She said to come here after 6:00 but- I uh, overslept.” Your eyes widened slightly, seeing the girl before you.

Ellie Williams. What the actual fuck?

You stared at her in disbelief, finally noticing the guitar in her hands. She scratched her neck nervously, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.

“You gonna let me in?” You slapped yourself mentally, stepping away from the door. She walked in, muttering a quiet ‘thanks’.

Ellie placed her guitar against one of the many chairs, curiously looking around the daycare. She traced all of the drawings on the walls, wondering about the stories behind each of them.

“Why did Maria want you to help me?” You asked her after a while, sorting through all of the pencils and sharpening dull ones.

“That’s a funny story… I did something she didn’t like and this is my punishment, I guess- not that I don’t like you! I’m just… bad with kids.” Ellie stumbled over her words a little, looking everywhere but at you.

“Well, what did you do?” You raised your eyebrow, even if she wasn’t facing your way. You sighed softly before adding. “And don’t worry- this feels like a punishment to me too… and I volunteered.”

Ellie snickered before circling around some tables and sitting down next to you, grouping all the pencils by color and placing them in their assigned little boxes.

“She found out I was dealing.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, though you could hear the nervousness in her tone. “Weed, you know? Said ‘I’m corrupting Jackson’”

“Shit, you’ve been dealing?” You unintentionally raised your voice, turning your head to look at her with furrowed brows. She raised her head slowly, nodding with an anxious expression. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? I felt bad for nagging Dina and she didn’t want to tell where she gets it from.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped as she looked at you baffled, the pencil she was holding almost falling out of her hand.

“I didn’t know you smoked, sorry.” She muttered, not expecting the way you reacted.

“I don’t look the part, huh?” You looked down at your clothes, the white collar peeking out of your beige sweater and your brown pants cuffed nicely, even if it exposed your ankles to the cold winter air.

Ellie shook her head to the sides with a chuckle, taking the opportunity and looking you up and down. After a moment in awkward silence she spoke up, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

“So why don’t you go on patrols? I mean, you’re really smart and stuff. You could be useful.” The way she said it sounded almost like an invitation, raising her brows slightly while glancing at you.

“Well, Maria said that I’m too smart for patrols. That I’ll be more useful as a teacher.” You giggled, rolling your eyes at the memory.

“That’s a shame… There’s this spot on one of the routes, you can see whole Jackson from there.” Ellie frowned softly, smacking her lips in disappointment.

You hummed in agreement, understanding what she was getting at. Maybe once winter comes Maria will let you go on a patrol with Ellie, just maybe. You placed a few sheets of paper in front of her, handing her a black pen.

“You can draw, right? Make some coloring pages, I gotta clean up before the kids come.” You said with a smile while standing up from the little table you were sitting at, not waiting for her answer.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The kids came in earlier than usual, the room filling up an hour after you opened. After some discussing Ellie decided to take care of the arts&crafts corner, playing a song on her guitar whenever she got a request while you taught the older kids how to multiply. You couldn’t help but steal glances at Ellie, looking away quickly when her eyes meet yours.

“Miss, why are looking at Ellie like that? Do you like like her?” You hushed the girl with furrowed brows, your cheeks burning slightly.

“Keep your eyes on your paper, Maya.” You muttered, tapping your finger against the worksheet you prepared for her. Why were kids so nosy?

You glanced at Ellie only to find her already looking at you, rolling her eyes annoyed. You giggled quietly, nodding your head in agreement. You quickly made sure everyone understood their assignments and walked over to Ellie, a smile appearing on her lips once she noticed you.

“How’s it going? Any troublemakers?” You asked jokingly, looking suspiciously at every kid with a smirk. Almost every one of them shook their head, letting you know they were on their best behavior.

“They’re all good, don’t worry.” Ellie said with a smile, admiring the way you quietly praised the boy who showed you the drawing he made today.

“That’s good to hear.” You nodded your head, stepping away with Ellie to a more secluded place. “They’re usually so much worse, maybe you’re a good influence.”

“Tell that to Maria.” Ellie snickered, tucking her short hair behind her ears. She scrunched her nose, glancing at the kids a little disgusted. “One of them sneezed into his hand and then grabbed mine though, have you ever thought about teaching manners?”

“Thank you so much for that idea, I’ve never thought about that!” You said sarcastically, pointing your finger at her while nodding your head. “But seriously, I’ve tried. They just don’t care.”

You sighed in defeat, dropping your hands to your sides. Ellie hummed in acknowledgment, looking at the kids coloring the drawings she made for them earlier.

“You play beautifully, by the way.” You nodded your head awkwardly, the words leaving your mouth before you could even think about them.

Ellie blushed lightly, biting back a grin that was threading to spread across her lips. “Thanks” She muttered quietly, looking away from you sheepishly.

She opened her mouth to add something but was cut off by some kid calling your name, asking you to help them with something. You shot her an apologetic smile before getting back to your space, leaving her with a bunch of prepubescent boy that already had teasing smirks on their faces, ready to poke fun at Ellie.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

You waved goodbye to the last kid, their parent giving you a grateful smile. You closed the door with a sigh, turning around to face Ellie. She was ready to leave, guitar in one hand and the kids’ drawings she received in the other.

“Can I walk you home?” She asked quickly, looking at you with a hopeful expression. You nodded your head with a smile, putting on your jacket.

“So, how would you rate your first day here?” You locked up the daycare building, stuffing the keys into your pocket.

“Well… it wasn’t bad. I thought it would be much worse.” Ellie hummed, walking right beside you. You bumped your shoulder into hers, smirking softly.

“I gotta say- you being there made it a lot better than usual… and I’m not talking just about the help.” She looked away sheepishly, unable to stop her lips from curling into a smile.

You walked in comfortable silence, stealing sneaky glances at each other when the other one wasn’t looking. Your hand brushed up against Ellie’s, making her gasp softly.

“Wow, you’re freezing.” She grabbed both of your hands into hers, standing in place. She rubbed her palms against the back of your hands, trying to warm you up.

“Yeah, it’s really cold today.” You giggled nervously, your cheeks heating up at her touch. She kept her grasp on one of your hands, swinging them softly between you as you walked. Smooth.

After a few minutes you finally got to your house, a little bummed out that your little trip is over. You stood before your front door, looking at Ellie shift from one foot to the other. She sighed, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

“How about I pick you up tomorrow? We could walk together.” Ellie suggested, taking a deep breath between her words. She rocked on the balls of her feet slightly, waiting for your answer impatiently.

“Okay.” You nodded your head with a grin, your hand resting on the doorknob. Ellie’s shoulders relaxed almost immediately, her own lips curling into a smile.

“Alright, cool… does 6 sound good?” You hummed in agreement, your eyes locked onto Ellie’s.

You stood there for a moment, in awkward- but not negative- silence. Ellie tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, breaking the eye contact by looking around nervously. You took your chance, standing on your tip toes and pecking Ellie’s cheek. She froze up, her eyes widening. Fuck, did you read it wrong?

“I’m sorry- I dunno why I did that.” You started apologizing, waving your hands around. Ellie grabbed both of them, shaking her head to the sides.

“It’s okay! You surprised me, that’s all.” She tried to hold back her smile but failed miserably, her ears and cheeks turning beet red. “I’ll uh- I should head back.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You nodded your head, sighing in relief at Ellie’s words. You gave her one last smile before walking into your home, closing the door softly.

You really hope the snow won’t come soon.

I HATE THIS SO MUCH IM GONNA RIP MY HAIR OUT😭

[laudanine]

How to make a back-patch: Hancock edition

Hey guys! So the tutorial for the Hancock patch is here! So the standing rule on this patch is "you can use my art and make your own, but you are not permitted to make money off it." But man, make your own, go nuts!

Steps 1 to 5 are mostly about how I made the image itself. Steps 6 to 9 are about making a patch once you have your final image. Skip ahead if you need!

So here's the supplies I personally use for these patches -

Tulip fabric paint, black and white

Talc powder

Charcoal powder

Tracing paper

Paintbrush

Fine-tip squeeze bottles

Fabric

My computer

Tape

A thumbtack

A pencil

And to be clear, these are NOT the only options. I've done this with black or white acrylic paint instead of fabric paint, it works fine. If you don't want to bother with the squeeze bottles you can use a paintbrush instead. If you don't have talc powder, cornstarch would work. If you can't find powdered charcoal, you can crush some up like I did, or use graphite, or literally whatever. You get the idea.

If you're going to be using the fine-tip squeeze bottles, now is the time to put your paint (fabric or acrylic) into the bottles and thin them with water to your level of comfort. You WILL need to test the paint on some fabric first, to be sure you can apply it evenly and that it flows well. If you're going to use acrylics, I highly suggest you add a drop of retardant to the mix ALONG with water.

2. I find my images for the figure I'm drawing. Yes, we're tracing: this ain't fine art and we're not gonna be snobs. Here we have John Hancock from the game and John Hancock IRL Danny Shorago.

3. I trace my images! You may notice my two reference images are the same pose! I'm gonna trace the first one by taping my paper over my computer screen and drawing LIGHTLY.

When I had the basics for Danny's proportions down, I left the paper where it was and moved the image of Hancock underneath the paper and traced what I needed from that image. That gets me this double-layer image.

4. I decide which of these lines I want to keep. Even with the faces for John and Danny lined up proportionally the shoulders and neck length of the two figures are pretty different. I decided that I wanted to go with narrower shoulders, and free-handed in the ruffles for his shirt.

5. Now I merge the two faces. I have to get the skin texture from John onto the face I have, which is mostly Danny. I kept up a whole screen of reference images for this process so I could decide what I wanted to pull from where.

And I leaned hard into the skull for his cheekbones and nose. You can see I actually used a colored pencil to outline those skull-like elements before I chose my final lines, and used another piece of my own darn art to add a chin scar I just really like. It is NOT a bad idea to trace a SECOND COPY of this image AT THIS TIME. Your image will be getting really dirty and messed up in the future, so unless you want to start over, you should make a spare copy (spoiler: I didn't do that and had to do this whole thing a second time to make a second patch...)

6. Align your fabric and your tracing paper up and tape first the fabric down THEN the paper on top, separately.

7. Poke holes! Use your thumbtack to poke holes along the lines you're trying to transfer. The way I'm doing this patch most of the image is white lines on black fabric, with SOME black lines on white for his face, neck, and shirt. For that reason, my transfer process is gonna be in TWO parts, one to lay down the white portions and then later to put the black lines ON TOP of the white areas as needed. I don't have a photo for this step: poke holes, you know how to do that.

8. Apply talc/powder to the image and use a paintbrush to gently brush the talc over the surface. You can use the brush perpendicular to the surface to GENTLY push the powder into the holes from the thumbtack holes.

9. Peel off the paper GENTLY. As you can see, I didn't even poke holes for the lines in his face, just the outlines for what's going to be painted in white. What you have is a little connect-the-dots to apply white paint to.

10. Apply white paint and allow to DRY COMPLETELY.

11. Once the white paint it TOTALLY DRY you're going to repeat steps 7 to 9, poking holes in the locations that you want to have BLACK lines appear. For me that's the details on his face and shirt. Instead of talc, the powder I used was crushed vine charcoal. You can see I'm starting to apply the black paint along the lines of black spots of charcoal.

12. Add, like, words and stuff! Also clean up, and fine tune, etc. You did awesome, and if it didn't turn out, well you DEFINITELY made a spare copy like I suggested you do in step 5, right?!?! Right.

Some notes:

This process also works on tee shirts if you want, but definitely use the fabric paint and not acrylics or the paint will flake off when you wash the clothing. Instead of taping the shirt down, I suggest you thumbtack it to a board or to some thick cardboard to keep it still while you work.

If you don't have a computer/screen you can trace on then print the images you want to work with and tape them to a window to use as alight-box.

You don't need to use the charcoal, honestly. If the design is simple or you're feeling like a BAMF, you can skip the black paint and the black powder and just use the negative space of the black fabric instead.

Tracing, and I cannot say this clearly enough, is not cheating when you're not tracing someone else's art. Trace a face. Trace a figure. Trace a landscape. I don't care. If you're tracing any image, you're going to need to do a lot of work to make your shitty traced image (my step 3) into something that looks like art (my step 5). That act of work, that's making art. Congratulations.

If you made it this far and REALLY want to donate money to me over this, don't! Maybe donate to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund instead at pcrf.net because that'd be SUPER cool.

Hope some or all of this helped someone somewhere be a cool punk badass like everyone's favorite Mayor.

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 18 : Granted Wishes

[𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒔.]

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[𝕬𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖊, 𝕲𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖂𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖘]

Danny was watching the skies, The stars seemed to twinkle brighter than usual, each sparkling in different assortments of colors and sizes, adorning the complexities of the vast sky lines that reflect to the earth, the clouds non existent and the birds quiet and in peace.

The breeze felt warm and not as suffocating than Danny had thought, it's as though the scenery changes with his presence. Gorham's skies were oddly clear that even Tim was shocked and Damian felt weird about it. Damian accompanied Danny on the roof as Damian moved his pencil swiftly yet smoothly at the same time. Danny flutters his eyes close, the constellations that lightens his cheeks that also strangely reflect the lights of the open night sky.

"The Constellations Follow me today..." Danny mutters as he was taking a deep breathe. "It is .. indeed beautiful... Much More beautiful than any others I have seen." Damian admits somewhat shyly. For the first time it's as though the spirits left behind in Gotham has decided to ascend and forgive their selves to finally reach their final state of rebirth. "Freedom has never tasted sweeter...." Danny chuckled and looked at Damian who was infact drawing Danny and the Oddly Clear Night Sky.

The wind hums peacefully grazing Damian's skin which made him slightly shudder at the sudden cold that hit his skin. "Today feels more of a miracle then it already is." Damian tried to joke and successfully did so as Danny chuckled and sat beside him with a soft ethereal like smile. "Look! Shooting Stars!" Danny yelled out happily which made Damian immediately look up in fascination.

Most of Gotham was out and about that night and witnessing this some sort of Astral Miracle. "Quick! Make a wish!" Danny giggled and closed his eyes and clasped his hand as if to make a prayer. Damian hesitantly did the same. He didn't know what to wish for, rather it felt childish to believe that mere meteors could grant wishes but he wishes that his family stays together side by side and to never Seperate again... Yeah. That's a good wish... He flutters his eyes open once again to see Danny slightly tearing up before he too opens his eyes.

Danny smiles, "Are you... Okay Danny?" Damian asks the younger boy and Danny nods slightly, "I just wish that my sister would be here... I miss ... I miss her so much." Danny mutters. Damian's gaze softened and pulled Danny closer to his side.

Damian hesitantly wrapped his arms around the younger boy to somehow? Maybe? Possibly comfort this Soon to be younger brother of his.

"It's okay... Danny .. it's okay." Damian says, mimicking what He thinks Alfred would do to comfort a child that's in need of consolation. "You'll be alright... I promise." Damian says with genuine care tracing his tone. It made Danny's core buzz in the warmth of family.

It feels like family.

It is Family.

[𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝙾𝚅]

"Dante should we be concerned...?" Jason asks his lover hesitantly whilst staring at the star decorated clear skies. Dante looks up and thinks for a moment before chuckling in amusement.

Jason looks at him Bemused but surely if he's laughing it's not a bad thing. "it's Danny's thing. Space and Protection and Stuff. Basically this means Gotham has become his new haunt or well place of home. And skies shift to his emotions.. if it's dark and cloudy he is depressed type of depictions." Dante smiles at Jason and kisses the Man's forehead, "It's nothing to be worried about Babe." Dante reassures hire beloved and Jason just sighed in relief.

"But this feels like a god thing type of shtick you know?" Jason muttered following his boyfriend inside their apartment and Dante looks at him with the look of understanding. "That's cuz it is hun. He's a baby god." Dante chuckled and laughed as he left Jason outside the door stunned and shocked at the sudden Lore Drop.

Baby god? Dear Fuck? Damn? Jason doesn't know how to react to this and just followed Dante inside. "and that would make you...?" Jason asks again hopefully for some more clearance, "His Alternate Version Turned Redemption Made Ghost King Proxy." Dante casually says and hums peacefully, Jason just even more baffled, "Alternative Self Like Alternate Universes?" Jason sputters and slowly sits down on the couch beside Dante, "Yep! I used to be evil actually. Then I fought Danny when he was 12? I think— which would be 2 years from now— but he... I guess it's just that when he cried for Jazz All so suddenly Infront of me I just— something in me shattered. And that's how we are here now." Dante kisses Jason's Forehead, hopefully that gave him more closure. (It did not but Jason loves Dante too much to care right now.)

"Clockwork, yk, the one my Father is Uh— dating and stuff— probably gonna marry soon I guess is the one who helped me adjust and take therapy sessions, yada yada, change for the better." Dante smirked and laughed as Jason rested his head on Dante's Chest feeling Dante's Core Purr softly as Dante explained all the details for Jason to understand. Dante was pleased that Jason atleast took it well and not like how he'd imagine would be disgust and stuff— Ancients did he feel so much anxiety before finally being able to slowly explain to Jason what happened.

"And as you know, there's Uh, Valerie, she's 14 now actually, she became a vigilante when she was like 12— which is not really good but that's super too young. I have no idea why when we were kids we wanted to save people so much. But then again it was a place that was unsafe for us so we tried to be both there for each other and save everyone we could when we had to." Dante says softly as he pulled Jason closer to him craving more of Jason's Body Warmth.

"Vlad in my timeline was like super super evil, here he was more sympathetic and just very immersed in his Obsessions at the time but now he's. He's gotten better as well especially since He and Clockwork became each other's Second Obsessions. It's an odd feeling to have your obsessions change really. Mine used to be pure violence but before the Violence it was also Protection and Family. Family stuck to me and Now it's both Violence Sort of, Maybe the Seeking of Justice or Revenge— and Family." Dante was sputtering explanations at this point, his tone occasionally trembling in fear as to how Jason might react but he trusts Jason to not betray him like that.

"Oh! Look. Gotham is trending right now because of the sudden starry skies— did you just post a poetic paragraph related to the stars of Gotham right now?" Dante laughed and Jason just smiled at him and nodded.

"For the first time the skies arranged itself a scenic spectacle,

Stars and Constellations Adorning it's Vast Astral Plane,

The Skies Free from it's Ghastly Covered Shackles,

And the Connection of Freedom and Peace Felt as tho it was no longer Strained."

Dante just smiled at the poem Jason made, soon he realized Jason has fallen asleep in his lap, Slowly he carried Jason to their bed and gently places him down and laid beside him tucking themselves both under the blanket. Dante smiles and Carreses Jason's Cheek gently... " I love you so much my Sun..." Dante muttered his gaze softer than the bed itself, he places a gentle kiss on Jason's Forehead before pulling him closer and closing his eyes to finally falling asleep with peace settling in his heart.

[𝐀丂𝐓я𝐚ᒪ Ƥᒪ𝐚𝐍𝑒, 𝕃𝐚𝐍𝓭 Øⓕ ⓡ𝑒๒Ɨя𝐓𝓱]

"Are you Happy Clockwork?" She Says, her ginger hair nearly mimicking fire and her eyes that felt as threatening as the aquatic depths. Jasmine.

"Ofcourse I am, Your doing and freeing of most of the vengeful unresting souls of Gotham has proven to be helpful in Dante's future Works and Danny's too as well. It also lessens more issues." Clockwork merely smiled and pressed his fingers on his lips as he does so. "It was quite a beautiful... Spectacle. Like the Once in a Lifetime Miracle. Your Show also Stopped Crime in the city for a day for the first time! It's a very beautiful and Bountiful achievement that you have succeeded." Clockwork subtly covers his smug and Cheeky smile from Jasmine.

"I want to be by my brother's side again, not by being Me, not by being jazz.... I want to protect him but I also want him to move on from me. Make me an animal." Jasmine glances at Clockwork, Stars Adorning her Skin and Planets circling around her. Clockwork nodded and slightly bowed to the ascended soul of the once much mortal Jasmine.

"I can make you a pet, or a familiar... Perhaps an animal that fits Danny... Hmm.. you may choose what animal ofcourse. One with wings." Clockwork suggests and Jasmine faces the stars once again to think briefly before making a final decision.

"Make me a Hawk, so that I can be both majestic yet threatening enough that Danny Will love me and that other people who dares hurt him will feel intimidated by my presence." Jasmine says slowly turning her body to face Clockwork fully, Her Red Hair Touching and Dragging on the non-existent grounds as she does so.

Clockwork nods approvingly, "Your Wish is my Command Astral Goddess. After all you ARE the first to willingly give up their first stages of godhood to protect a baby god." Clockwork was amused, Perhaps even curious as to what Goes on in Jasmine's Mind. "I will come back eventually as soon as the lifespan of my Rebirth ends and I can be with Danny as a goddess that has fully ascended enough that I can finally show myself to him...." She says her voice softening significantly at the mention of her baby brother.

Her Aquatic eyes reflected the sea of itself but in them is a hint of sorrow and yearning. Clockwork led The Once Mortal New Goddess down a path of Grass and they trodded through life's lair.

Soon as they walked down the path of flowers and feathers, Jasmine slowly earned her wings, growing out of her back painlessly and smoothly growing out and spreading neatly, Placing itself side by side with ease. Her hair slowly fading into her own feathers and her size shrinking.

She flapped her wings and slowly placed her talons on Clockwork's Shoulder. She shook her new form slowly settling in on the new mechanics of her body.

"I am ready." She chirps and Clockwork nods letting her fly away and her slowly rising from the clouds and soaring through The Sky heading to Gotham with Haste.

"This time... I will protect them." She thinks to herself as she whistles and Slowly Dive Bombing to Gotham, She truly is ready.

She is very ready to Protect her family and to meet them again and be in their warm embrace.

[𝑹𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓 ���𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈]

[thephooka]

How we got here from there

Or, the long journey of a longform long-running webcomic about a long man with long wings.

In the spirit of @feathernotes and @phantomarine who have been talking about just starting your webcomic and not worrying about being "ready", I was inspired to do a post about White Noise's origin! I'm a little limited by the fact that I either left behind or destroyed a lot of the art I have from prior to 2009, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Cringe Truth below the cut!

The Cringe Truth of White Noise is that it has its roots in a Pokemon x Yu Yu Hakusho x self-insert(s) roleplay thread I used to do with an internet friend I made on Neopets guild forums way back in 2002-ish. We would come home from school every day and RP over AIM, and then when we had to get offline, whoever left first would email the other one, and we would continue via email until we were back on AIM at the same time.

Liya was my self insert.

This isn't even remotely the earliest art of her, it's just the earliest I have on hand. I was drawing her for almost a decade by the time I drew this one. Imagine the earlier drawings as being like I traced over Sailor Moon characters that I printed out from deviantART and gave them a brown ponytail.

The funny thing is Liya really hasn't changed much from her original form! I also had loose brown curls that I kept in a ponytail 24/7 to the point that it showed when I had it down (which is why her hair is 'dented' like that). I did it because I was trans and didn't know it; she does it because she hasn't realized she can just cut it off and be butch yet.

Other characters that date back from this time period: Yoshi (originally an InuYasha/Rurouni Kenshin pastiche), Hawk (I don't remember when he got wings but they were white at first), Numair (named after the Tamora Pierce character and filling a Koenma kind of role), Helly (sort of--I had an elf character named Kamui who had the same temperament, and he was eventually transmuted into Helly) and...Kurogane.

I've never named Kurogane but he appears in the background of the comic a few times, as my own personal inside joke.

Vlad came along somewhere between this RP period and planning the comic, but I can't remember when or why. I don't have drawings from that time (~2004?) but he was the first character I drew when I got a tablet for the first time.

Everyone else came along later when I started actually planning out the comic.

All this said: the reason I started White Noise as a weekly webcomic is because I wanted to learn to draw better.

At the time I was in college majoring in animation, but I didn't feel like I was learning very much at all (the program was badly structured; I had more art history classes than anything else. It was a mess.) I was also working nights in order to feed myself, and so had a lot of downtime. I had this story rattling around in my head from my RP days, so I figured, why not just give it a go?

For posterity here's a photo of a chapter 1 panel in progress, back in 2011 with my typical college diet in the bg:

(Chapter 1 was originally pencil on paper, scanned in and colored in PS. I later re-drew it to make it fully digital to match with the rest of the comic.)

There's been a lot of talking about not waiting until you're 'ready' to start a webcomic, and I agree with that sentiment. Try framing it like this: making a comic every week for years and years will improve your art way more than any prep work you can do before starting the comic. It's like learning to swim. You can read about swimming all you want, but you're not going to really figure it out until you do it. If your early comics are bad, well, that's normal. It used to be an expected part of doing webcomics; I blame the shift into expecting webcomics to be polished from start to finish partly on commercialization in the space, but that's an angry rant for another time.

With this background, here's the collage I posted for WN's 10 year anniversary back in 2021:

And now we're here.

So do your webcomic. Put it on ComicFury or make a janky little site for it. Be okay with imperfect pages and be prepared to shout into the void for a while. Even if it's always a hobby, if it never makes you a dime or wins you any awards--that's fine! You'll be a lot happier if you learn not to worry about that stuff, and just make something that will help you grow and make you happy. We could do with a lot more work like that in the world imo.

[forest-teacher23]

Despite an awful migraine this morning, I was able to do quite a bit in my new journal to set it up for next year!

I added some stickers to the front. The Isabelle is my fav lol

And here are the pages I did today! I forgot to take a picture, but that paper taped to the side is my dot guide. It pulls out so I can reference it while working at any page in my journal.

Then, the first page is a "self portrait" I really just wanted to mess around with my new coloring pencils, and decided to make a cover page with them

Last year my journal included an index but this one didn't, so I decided to make my own. I drew the color lines without a ruler, so there's quite a few mistakes, but it's not the end of the world (or so I tell myself)

Then finally my year at a glance and important dates pages. I don't know why these were so hard to make, but I think I used half my white out fixing mistakes. With how bad it was you'd think I didn't trace my designs before inking them, but I do!!

I'm glad I have the energy to do these spreads now, as I'll be out of state over Christmas and won't be able to do anything with it then. Let's see how far I can get before next Sunday!

[amazingmsme]

What kind of world is Briar from? (ex. futuristic, “normal”, etc.) I would be more interested in hearing about the world building aspect of her world. Especially in relation to how she can use her powers. (Side note: Did you draw her on paper or digitally? The texture and colors are really nice! :))

Anon just know I love you💗 but seriously thank you so much! I love these questions!

Her world is pretty similar to ours in terms of the modern world, but the colors in her world are really bright & vibrant with soft blurred lines for the landscapes. It’s very picturesque & beautiful. If I had to give an art style it would be like a vintage oil painting with bold use of colors. The crime in her world is pretty similar to ours, but with a few supervillains to spice things up. But she tends to focus on crimes like what affected her family & dedicates a lot of time to freeing kidnapped victims. I like to think that her world has the same kind of music that ours does cause she is a HUGE Lana Del Rey fan (she’s a depressed bitch, what do you expect?) She likes the typical sad emo music but she also likes a lot of upbeat pop music, showtunes, & a few sea shanties lol, so not what you’d expect from a hardcore goth. & because it’s my world & I make the rules they have the And That’s Why We Drink podcast & it’s like her favorite thing to listen to. Like she’ll literally be swinging through the city or in the middle of a fight & she’ll be listening to the newest episode not giving a fuck if it’s “disrespectful” to the bad guy. It’s disrespectful to interrupt her while she’s trying to listen!

Her powers are pretty similar to Miles & Miguel’s (invisibility & fangs/venom) but while Miguel’s bite just leaves you paralyzed, hers takes a harder toll on the nervous system & depending on how much she gave them, it could kill them. If she does bite someone & they’re just a normal person, she’ll leave a little vial with a note next to their webbed up body that says something along the lines of “sorry, I bit this one, he left me no choice. Might need to go to the hospital, but he should be fine if you give him this :)” smiley face & all. But sex related crimes have really dropped since she stepped on the scene & she’s a pretty big feminist icon in her world. (One time Em & Christine mentioned her on the podcast & she freaked the fuck out & ran into a building)

& thank you so much, I’m so glad you like her! I drew her on paper & colored her with my prismacolor colored pencils & outlined her with my glitter gel pens. I used the photo layers app to trace her out & make a transparent version cause I just like the look better than my kinda ratty sketch book lol

[dazuresky]

How did you get started in doing art?

I've always been into drawing and painting to some degree since I can remember! Though it was mostly little doodles and stuff, I'd look at people drawing and coloring legit illustrations and think "man i wish i could do that so bad". I only took it more seriously as "wait I can get good at this if i try??" when I was like 16 and made some other artist friends on livestreams and here on tumblr that made me realize it was just a matter of keeping at it, i remember thinking i had started too late to ever do anything cool at the time, but there's no such thing as starting too late on this haha.

At first i just tried replicating art i liked on pencils on like printer paper and notebooks every day, all my traces looked very shaky but i didn't mind because it was a lot of fun! then i started trying to make stuff of my own (mostly pokemon and OCs haha) then scanning it and coloring it on photoshop. I'd also draw a bunch on my DS thru flipnote hatena and painting on my 3DS with some painting app called Colors3D I think, Then i got a graphic tablet and started doing digital stuff and a few years after i went to art school for graphic design and during that time i picked a good few traditional mediums i enjoy such as watercolors and gouache and markers and whatnot along with my main digital stuff, i also got into 3D art and animation during that time!

Art school is a whooole complex topic i won't get into and by no means is a requirement to draw stuff, most of what i've learned i've done by my own personal interest but i definitely picked up some nice stuff along the way there.

[voidselfshipp]

Would That I

Cw: anger issues ment, self loathing (from f/os part) description of drift being Half naked (only torso area). Food ment. Mentions of Fire. Lmk if im missing something.

Summary: jerico goes to check in on Drift and helping him through a bad day.

->Only mutual allowed to rb.

♡Lovely taglist: @tex-treasures @malewifepatrickbateman @mercuryships

-> pieces of the interview mentioned were found thru the internet, the haiku drift says was also found in the internet though im not sure to who it Belongs to. Lmk tho.

Jerico was looking for drift everywhere, they havent seen him for a couple of hours now.

Sure, they knew that their robot lover was meditating, and he was prone to do that for an extended period of time.

They looked around their garden, only finding the yeager family's house in the distance.

Jeri looks around, noticing growing vegetation, the free house cozily decorated, the flowers swaying with a soft summer breeze and five meters away the Zen garden drift had asked for when they moved in.

A sigh scaped past their lips when they noticed the black and red Mercedes Benz Parked just outside.

They pat the hood of the car and ask-- drift? You there?

--By the cherry blossom-- the car replies.

"Ah...he must be in his holoform..." jeri thought, kissing the hood of the car and entering the garden.

It was decorated with plenty of streams and bridges, different types of trees looming over them, their leaves colored in a wide array of hues.

They notice the well kept koi swimming around the stream, the ocassional frog jumping by, making Jerico squeal with delight.

Finally, at the centre lies the big cherry blossom tree, nurted by none other than Drift himself, lanterns hung from the thick branches, origami that jerico had made for him.

They remembered that their partner had said that "he keeps it around because this place is supposed to give him peace. So he saw fitting that all the things Jeri made for him were kept there".

It always made them tear up and feel moved, Drift appreciated them like none other.

And speaking of the autobot in question, there was his holoform. A japanese Man, long face and sharp cheeks, a thin pencil moustache and a goatee that covered his chin decorated the Lower part of his face.

His clothes were more casual and comfortable,all in a black and red colorscheme. a black harem pant and boots with red accents. His signature samurai esque armor missing.his upper half completely naked. Maybe because of the weather?

But what really caught the attention of Jerico was the fact that his beautiful shiny black hair was down, reaching past his shoulders by maybe three inches.

It swayed in the breeze, making deep greyish red highlights appear and dissapear.

His holoform was just as breath taking as he was in his Real form.

Theres only silence. A heavy air hung around him and Jeri remembered how... sad he looked earlier when he came by, a gaze full of badly disguised self pity and something they couldnt quite place. His blue eyes gleaming as they always did..though then they seemed less bright as he greeted them.

They didnt know what was up with him and they had to know.

Regardless, they knew better than disturb Drift when hes meditating, so jerico goes behind him, eyes settling on the big kanji tattoo that says "honor" on his back.

Carefull fingers trace the symbols, making the Man shudder. Gentle hands move the hair away to reveal the back of his neck, lips place a tender kiss on there.

They put their head ontop of his, one arm falls loosely,elbow resting on his shoulder. The other wraps around his neck and their hand rests on their other arm's wrist.

Drift smiles, not opening his eyes, one hand resting on the arm thats around his neck-- My lotus, what brings you here?-- his voice soft and calm like it always sounded, yet with a hint of sadness.

--Im looking for my lovely boyfriend, have you seen him?

--Ah,maybe-- He said following along-- mind describing him to me? Maybe I have seen him

Jeri Snickered-- ah well, hes tall, handsome, black hair tied in a half bun, he has a very nice voice...likes haikus..

--hmm...he reminds me of me-- he teased.

--But really though, are you okay? Youve been here for a while-- they say.

Drift sighs-- ah well...,my mind feels heavy

--do you want to tell me about it?

He shifted, a little bit uncomfortable-- seems like im having a bad self steem day

-- oh i see, do you want to elaborate?

-- Well...youre aware that I was an ex decepticon-- drift started-- I cant understand how I got so lucky...

Decepticons Hate humans..but the simple thought of anything happening to you is the singlemost frightfull thing that could ever happen to me

You know I was a bad Man.. and yet here you are...I feel like I dont deserve you-- he explained, voice full of sadness,hurt, self pity and...

Self loathing.

Thats what they couldnt pinpoint.

Jerico tightened his grip around him and nuzzled his scalp-- wanna know why im with you?

--Enlighten me, 我が 寸 (my sun)

--Because you changed sides, because you chose to do good after a lifetime of being evil. Thats why.

Deep down youre a good bot, and im dating you because I fell in love with who you are now. Not who you were

Drift smiles, letting out a hearty chuckle-- どうも (Thank you)

--you can Keep meditating if you like, ill go fetch something from the house, love you-- jeri kisses the top of his head and runs off, leaving a very flustered drift.

They return twenty minutes later, sitting behind him-- can I braid your hair?

--Go ahead

Drift could feel the way his lover's hands carefully braided strands of hair, how they made sure not to tug at it accidentally or disturb him much while he kept meditating.

Thats when he hears them sing-- True that I saw her hair like

The branch of a tree

Willow dancin' on air before covering me

Under garden and calicos

Over canopy dabbled long ago

True that love in withdrawal

Was the weepin' of me

That the sound of the

Saw must be known by the tree

Must be felt 'fore the fight, the call

Friendly fire, but that was long ago

"Ah, that song" drift thought " what was that name again 'Would that i'? Yes, thats it"

He remembered telling them he liked the drums at the start.

Then, the lyrics got to him and the last sentence struck a chord within drift.

"Friendly fire, but that was long ago"

He changed sides because one of his fellow Decepticon wanted to kill some autobot prisioners. Drift had opposed and was called a trator.

But the autobots had managed to take down the other decepticon. And the words one of the autobots had said stuck to him to this very day "you'd make a Fine autobot".

That was all it took. He chose to do good.

Drift could not see it, but jeri's eyes were half lidded as they braided his hair, sticking fake flowers on it for decoration.

-- So in awe there I stood as you

Licked off the grain

Though I've handled the wood

I still worship the flame

Long as amber of ember glows

All the wood that I'd loved is long ago-- they sang. When did jerico make their way to almost the end of the song? Drift couldnt tell.

The song and its meaning, He recalls that the creator of the song had said that “There’s a weirdly elaborate pun in it: ‘would that I’ is like a way of saying ‘I wish’”. So the last line is also “All the ‘would that I’ loved is long ago.” Which means he not only moved past his old relationships, but also all the things he used to wish for. All his dreams and hopes don’t matter to him so long as he has Her. He is content."

And that was what drift felt now. Content. His old self is gone, Deadlock, (his decepticon name) is gone and dead.

Drift was content, he was happy, and he'll remain to be happy so long as he had Jerico.

Jerico...they loved him in spite of his manic outbursts of anger (which only happen when he is suddenly startled, or when someone interrupted his meditation), in spite of his past.

He had "handled the wood". His old self. But still "worshipped the flame" which meant that he was still taking the time to discover who he truly is.

--All done-- jeri announced-- ill make some tea and be right back

Drift felt his partner kiss him Gently on the lips, settling something on his lap-- a mirror so you can see what I did

And then he hears footsteps that become distant over time.

He opens his eyes and looks at himself, braids decorating his hair with colorfull fake flowers. Drift loved it.

When jerico came back they were carrying a tray with a teapot and some snacks.

Both sit under the shade of the massive cherry blossom and drink their tea in silence.

That is, until drift puts his head ontop of theirs (that was resting on his shoulder) and says--Your hair smells like fire,

your skin like new grass and sun.

I rest in summer

He had always associated jerico with Summer.

Warmth, joy, days of enjoyment with loved ones or days inside the house with Icecream and good movies. And of course, the sun.

Jeri giggled and took his hand,kissing his knuckles-- love you

--Love you too

After their tea and putting everything away, both return to the garden, under the cool shade of the massive tree.

Drift caresses Jeri's biceps, gently, lovingly. Then he moves his hands across their trapezii and resting on each side of their neck, caressing their jaw with his thumbs.

Jeri lets out a short breathy chuckle, unable to look away from him-- you always treat me with such carefulness, a decepticon would never do that

He smiles and cups their cheeks, leaning in for a kiss.They gladly kiss back, hugging his waist and pulling him closer.

Both remain like that for a while, a long while, showing eachother through a kiss how much they loved the other.

As they part lips, their closed eyes Open, and both smile, kissing again and again until both are out of air.

Drift's fingers Gently interlaze with jeri's, his hand falling from their cheek down their neck and arm to their hand in the shape of ghostly gentle touches.

--Lets go cuddle-- he proposed-- inside, prefferably.

Both exit the garden and they get inside his vehicle mode, who drives to Jerico's house and as they leave the car, drift Mass displaces And both go up to the human's bedroom, holding hands.

As they lay down, the autobot pulls his partner close to him, his spark beating against the humans chest, and both barely notice at how their heartbeats seem to synchronize.

--I love you-- drift said giving jeri a quick kiss.

--I love you too-- they reply, kissing him again.

--Sweet dreams, my Lotus

--Sweet dreams, my warrior

Jeri Hides their head on the crook of their lover's neck, who hugs them protectively.

--Ill have sweet dreams as long as youre around-- drift flirted under his breath, to then smile as Jerico giggles.

He deserved to be where he was. He was going to be okay.

[3liza]

that's ok! this is a mostly-obsolete technology from when before everyone could print stuff easily. you might be familiar with the term "carbon copy" but also not sure what THAT means. basically, before affordable home and office printing and before we kept records in digital formats, we needed ways to make copies of documents physically without having to fill out the same form three times (something people used to have to actually do quite a bit, often with actual handwriting and not even a typewriter. talk to an 80 year old person about this sometime, they'll tell you what a nightmare it was).

so first we had carbon copies. a carbon copy is when you cover a sheet of paper in powdered carbon or graphite and put it under the paper you're writing on, on top of a third sheet of normal paper. maybe you did this in school once to transfer a drawing, sometimes teachers will show you how to do it by coloring pencil lead thickly on a piece of paper and then tracing over the drawing.

when you press down on the top page, the carbon sheet is pressed onto the bottom page and leaves a duplicate of the mark youre making. you can use them in typewriters too.

but the problem with carbon is that it is extremely messy. it gets smudges all over your fingers and desk and other papers etc. so "carbonless" copy paper was invented

this stuff only makes a mark when you smash the little coatings together. no more smudgy carbon paper in the office. this works with typewriters too because typewriters make a letter by slamming a hammer into the paper. so that's what's up with these weird papers.

the pretty pastel rainbow paper i posted seems to be a stack of FIVE different carbonless copy papers that will produce a whole rainbow of copies at once. really neat idea. no clue what i would do with it. limited production zine? idk!

here's my typewriter now, making one carbonless copy

edit: if you are looking at these coated papers thinking "hm my autistic ass would hate touching this" it's not as bad as you'd think, the coating is SO finely ground that it doesn't register as grit and doesn't make gritty noises when you're handling the paper. it's more like when you have a finely coated paper for fountain pens. so it could be slightly icky for some people but is, for me at least, completely tolerable. and of course with s typewriter you don't really have to touch it at all

edit 2: this is a really good thing to point out, thank you!!

because we used to send official correspondence to people and then send the carbon copy to a second person, physically. so we retain this language with digital correspondence!

i got dot matrix printer CARBONLESS COPY(!!!) paper for my birthday and my plan to feed it continuously into my typewriter and get an endless paper feed WITH a backing duplicate has worked perfectly. why did i do this? absolutely no good reason i just thought it would be fun. and i was right. anyway i started writing that book

[silassinclair]

“You’re my Muse”

[Billy H. x Artistic Reader] 🎨

Summary: Y/n loves Billy’s face. He’s just so handsome and gorgeous and UGH. She loves holding his face and looking into his eyes, and Billy is just like, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF

Glam metal music played softly from Billy’s stereo. The volume was turned down more than his usual listening volume because his girlfriend Y/n was doodling in her sketchbook on his bed. He absolutely adored her. She was cute seven ways to sunday. Her cute little hobby of drawing, her love for bugs, but most importantly was her weird fascination for his face.

Weird because it was only his face. Her pages were full of realistic sketches of his face at many different angles and making many different expressions. He was flattered and never questioned it, but it got to the point where she would hold his face in her hands for long minutes at a time and just stare adoringly.

Billy loves her to the moon and back but he cannot help but feel… a little weirded out by her quirky behavior, not in a bad way of course. So he finally asks, “Hey baby?”

The sound of pencil on paper stops. “Yeah Billy?” Y/n asks and crawls over to him. He was seated on the floor against the bed she was on so she leaned down and put her cheek against his, another thing she did quite often.

“Not to sound mean.” He starts, “But I gotta ask you, what is with you and always being all over my face. I know that I’m handsome and attractive and the hottest guy ever but I can’t help but feel like you have a weird fascination for my face.” He says with a light grin.

An awkward pause fills the room. Even the song on the stereo was quieting down, playing it’s last part.

“Well uh.” Y/n say straight up and scratched her neck. She knew this day would come. After all personal space is important so of course her boyfriend would question her weird actions. “I just really like your face.”

Billy turned around with a quirked up eyebrow and a smirk. “Oh I know that babe. That’s why you’re all over me after all. But I wanna know more. Give me the sweet juicy details.” His thumb brushed against her hand that he had held in his.

“To put it simply, you’re my muse Billy.” She said with a smile. Her head tilted to the side to see Billy’s facial expression change from smugness to wonder.

“Your jawline is sharp, cheekbones are prominent, and your eyes,” Y/n gently takes hold of his face. His head is turned up as her fingers trace gently against his jaw. Billy is at a loss for words, no one has EVER said anything like this to him before.

“Your eyes are absolutely stunning. I could drown in that gorgeous blue color.” She places a small peck on the space between his eyes.

“And don’t get me started on your lips.” Her thumb traces the plump bottom lip. “They’re so smooth and plump. I just wanna kiss em all day.”

At this point Billy’s face was as red and flush as the crimson paint Y/n used in her artworks. The affection was almost overwhelming. His brain simply couldn’t process how someone so sweet, cute, and humble could adore him this much. He thought men were the ones who were supposed to fluster their girlfriends, but apparently it was the other way around right now.

“I love all of you.” Y/n whispered softly and placed a light kiss on his cheek.

In the blink of an eye Billy pounced and had Y/n pinned under his body. Her arms spread limply by her sides under the soft cushion of Billy’s mattress.

“Do you really mean that?” Billy said. His tone was like a whisper. Hope in his voice wishing it were true, but he knew it was too good to be true. “All that you said, you mean it?” His golden brown locks fluttered from side to side, framing his perfect face.

The girl reached a hand up to cup the jaw of her lover above. A smile painted her face. “I meant every word, love.” That petname for him had hime weak in the knees any time she said it, which was pretty rarely. Usually she’d just call him Billy, baby, or B.

Billy leant down and trapped her lips in a heated kiss. He never wanted tor leave this moment. In between kisses Y/n giggled, her arm’s wrapped around his neck lovingly.

“Aw? Is my sweet boyfriend flustered? Or do you just really like being praised and complimented?”

A growl escaped the depths of his throat. “How could I not be a blushin’ mess when you say shit like that?” His lips traced the shell of her ear. “God I don’t deserve you baby.” His whisper sent a shiver down her spine.

She smirked and batted her lashes, “Oh and that sexy voice of yours, I could listen to it all da-”

She was cut off with a kiss. Her boyfriend’s eyes were wide and his cheeks were on fire, his bottom lip twitching too much so he bit down on it.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll show you how much I love you more.”

[cielcreations]

Tattoos - Hermit X Empires

The design of Tango is based off of @lunarcrown​‘s design, so make sure to check them out!

It wasn't a shock that Tango had tattoos. It just fit his aesthetic and the type of person he was. He was a blue blaze hybrid, he wore a lot of leather, usually crop tops paired with thigh highs to both embarrass Solidarity and to show off, it just wasn't really a surprise.

The first time people had seen it was when Tango took off his long cape like overcoat. It did get very hot and stuffy when wearing all black and leather, so he took off the cape and Fwhip (the first one to see it) gasped.

"WOAH!" The goblin ran over, "That's awesome!"

Tango smiled, showing off the warden tattoo, "Thanks! It's still healing though, which is why I have the plastic wrap!"

"It's so pretty! And so cool! The colors are awesome!"

"I know, I have the best tattoo artist!"

"I'll say! You'll have to take me sometime, been thinking of getting one myself!"

That was that. Other people would see it and compliment the design, the colors, the way it fit Tango's arm perfectly, everyone was amazed and impressed. Especially Scott and Joel.

"I have a few tattoos!" Scott removed his shirt and, sure enough, on his lower back was a flower field, full of beautiful colors and all sorts of flowers. He also had a few small ones scattered around his wrist, his ankles, just tiny ones like a rainbow, the word 'Chromia' written in beautiful cursive, a silhouette of a llama, etc.

"Those are nice too!" Joel complimented.

"The artist was the worst though!" Scott complained, "He was way to rough, my skin was swollen for weeks! He was awful! Not to mention the colors all washed out! They used to be super duper bright, but after they fully healed, which took about three months because he was way too rough, they were all gone!"

"That sucks! I hate those type of artists! They feel like they're just stabbing you rather than actually making art!" Tango huffed.

"Exactly!"

"I have one on the back of my thigh of some blue orchids?" Tango turned and lowered his thigh high boot, "This is a cover up!'

"No way!" Joel exclaimed, kneeling down. The tattoo was beautiful, it looked like a flowing pile of blue orchids, "What did you cover up?"

"Originally, it was a black heart and mine and Soli's name-" Tango explained, Joel stepping back as Tango fixed his shoe, "-but the artist was awful and the black faded!"

"How does black fade?!" Joel exclaimed.

"When you're rushing and not pressing hard enough! Honestly, it felt like she was just stabbing my skin with a dull pencil!"

"Well, that one is awesome. They're both awesome!" Joel smiled, "It looks so clean! Colors are blended beautifully, the outline, everything!"

"Thank you!" Tango giggled.

Scott playfully glared, "You have to take me to your artist! I need these ones redone!"

Tango laughed, "Sure!" The blaze then looked at his arm and smiled, tracing it with his finger, blushing slightly, "Soli was so worried it would turn out bad, but I told him it would be fine!"

"Makes sense he would be a buzzkill." Joel teased.

"Well, he does have to be strict if he's the one tattooing me!"

A beat of silence.

"WAIT WHAT?!" Both screamed, making Tango jump.

"SOLIDARITY, THE SHERIFF, DID THOSE?! NO WAY!" Joel yelled.

"He did! Why would I lie?" Tango questioned, "Has he never done one for any of the other emperors?"

Scott and Joel stared.

"....So that's a no..." Tango giggled, "I can prove it! Do either of you want a tattoo?"

"I'll pass for now, I need to do more work at Chromia."

"Joel?"

The god hummed before he nodded.

***

"Soliiiiiiii~!"

The dirty blonde turned and smiled before it was gone in an instant, seeing a familiar brunette god beside his husband, "...Tango, why is he here?" 

The blaze ran over and kissed his cheek, Solidarity instantly blushing and loosening up a bit, "Joel doesn't believe that you made my tattoos! Can you believe that!"

"I can, he's jealous he can't do what I can do!"

Joel glared, smirking, "Yeah right! I know Tango is lying to just hide your secret! Who's the real tattoo artist?! Is he a criminal, is that why the sheriff is hiding him?"

Solidarity raised an eyebrow before he sighed, "Follow me."

"Ha! I'm going to know the sheriff's dirty little secret!"

They walked into Solidarity's home, the dirty blonde taking out a bunch of materials for tattoos before handing Tango a book. The blaze gave it to Joel, who began to flip through it. Most were just pictures of finished, beautiful tattoos while some showed Solidarity working on those tattoos, him beside the tattoos, even some of him with the client who wad clearly amazed and happy with the result.

"...No way..."

"I told you!" Tango exclaimed, "My husband is the best tattoo artist ever! I would never let anyone else ink my skin when I found him!"

"C-Come on, t-they're not that gr-great!" Solidarity blushed, completely embarrassed by his husband's assertion.

"Dude, these are awesome!" Joel yelled, "Can you do me?!"

"I-I can-"

"Sweet!" 

"H-Hey, I didn't say I wo-"

"I want a large lightening tattoo!" Joel pointed at his shoulder, smiling brightly, "Right here! Maybe it could have a cloud and lightening?! And maybe some good praising and-"

"H-HOLD ON!" Solidarity yelled, startling both him and Tango.

"What's wrong, baby?" Tango gently took his hand in his.

Solidarity took a deep breath, "I-I'm not comfortable with writing sentences on people unless they're super meaningful. I'm not going to write 'I'm super hot and sexy and tall' on you." Joel nodded so Solidarity continued. He stepped forward, tracing Joel's arm, "...Do you just want a simple lightening bolt? Black and white or color?"

"Oh, um..." Joel blushed, now a bit embarrassed. He didn't think he would get this far, "...Um..."

Solidarity continued stroking his arm, "...Your skin is really nice, but I'm guessing you want yellow? Yellow or gold?"

"Yeah, um, yes."

"...I don't think that's a good idea." The sheriff hummed, "Yellow, gold, those type of bright colors? They fade really quickly on light skin and they don't turn up well on darker skin. You may be tan, but it's really not worth it."

"You can't, like, go over it?"

"I could, but it would one, hurt you a lot and two, it will look very washed out when fading." Solidarity stared before he widened his eyes, "....Unless...."

"Unless?" Joel questioned.

He could almost see Solidarity's brain processing. He ran to a chest in the corner, Tango running after him. The dirty blonde took out his tattooing materials, Tango taking them as the dirty blonde finally got to his sketchbook, effectively sitting down in his spot and beginning to sketch.

"He's in work mode." Tango explained, setting the equipment down, "Here."

The blaze took,out a long comfortable chair and had the brunette lay down on it as Tango set the equipment up. It took about thirty minutes before Solidarity came back over with a couple of designs. One was a half sleeve with a large cloud on the top of the shoulder with bolts of lightening shooting out of the clouds. He explained he would color them in a way that so it looked like the cloud was lighting up and wasn't just a simple white. The next was a full arm tattoo but it was a lot more simplistic. It was just a string of lightening bolts that went from Joel's shoulder to his hand, Solidarity explaining he would either do it in black because it was just a bunch of straight lines, or UV ink that would glow under UV light to give it that pop. Finally, the last one was a half sleeve again.

It had a silhouette of Joel lifting his hand up towards the sky with a large flash of lightening and storm clouds, mini lightening bolts behind the one giant one.

"Woah..." Joel was amazed, "I... never knew you were such a good artist..."

"He keeps it hidden." Tango hugged Solidarity from behind, the dirty blonde blushing, "He's really passionate about this stuff so if you ever want to embarrass and make him a stuttering mess? Just compliment his art~!"

"T-T-TANGO!" Solidarity yelled.

"Seeeeee~?"

Joel chuckled, "Um... I really like all of them. I want all of them. But, if I have to choose one? I'd go with this one." He pointed to the one with the silhouette.

Solidarity smiled, "I figured. I try to make two or three designs that are 'basic', in terms of what the person wants, and then one or two catered to that specific person!"

Tango sat in a chair opposite of Solidarity's equipment as the dirty blonde transferred the sketch to a stencil. Once that was finished, he got his inks and tattoo gun ready.

Solidarity hummed, "Ready?"

"Ready!" Joel smiled.

"If you need a break, just tell me."

"Okay."

The dirty blonde began to work, Tango watching him intently. Joel did too. The other's face was calm and he gave off an aura of confidence, knowing exactly what he was doing. Solidarity didn't even blink when Joel let out a small groan as he hit one spot, just wiped away some ink, looked at him to gage if he was okay, and straight back to work mode.

"He's hot like this, right?" Tango giggled, not bothering to whisper.

Joel stared, "...Honestly, yeah..."

Solidarity looked... different like this. Just super confident, super calm, completely in his element. It was... amazing to see. He was completely comfortable, unlike when he left his empire and always seemed on edge because of something.

Joel hummed, "So, how long will this take?"

Solidarity didn't answer.

"Mine took three hours, so probably that, maybe a little less or more." Tango explained, "Trust me, you're not getting anything from him. Even complimenting his work won't deter him from work mode."

Joel nodded, "Amazing..."

"He is~!" Tango exclaimed, giggling, 

Solidarity wiped another bit of ink, humming to himself.

"S-Something wrong?!" Joel exclaimed.

"No." The dirty blonde reassured, "Just admiring it. I don't make mistakes in my tattoos."

Tango and Joel chuckled before the two continued to talk among themselves. Joel did let out small groans at some point, but Solidarity would look at him, gage if the pain was too much, before getting back to work. It took about 3 hours before Solidarity hummed taking a step back. He smirked, putting his tools down before wiping Joel's arm a couple of times.

"Alright, you are all set." Solidarity smiled, "I know you hate following orders, but trust me on this. Do not take hot water, try to take cold or slightly warm showers, hot water will hurt your arm and it can wash the ink out. I would also suggest wearing plastic wrap, just in case. Wash the tattoo twice a day, all you need is a little soap and water and then gently pat dry. I'm going to give you some antibacterial/Vaseline ointment that you apply after washing it. Do not put on another bandage after the ointment, just wrap it in plastic wrap. Also, I suggest using some moisturizer to keep the tattoo moist."

Solidarity helped Joel sit up and handed him a mirror. Joel took it and gasped, amazed, "HOLY SHIT!"

"LANGUAGE!" Solidarity yelled.

"SHUT UP, NO WAY YOU DID THIS!!!" Joel stared, "IT LOOKS AWESOME!!! WAIT, OMG, IT LOOKS LIKE I'M REALLY CONTROLLING THE SKY!!! AND THE SHADING, THE COLORS, IT'S ALL BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL!!!!"

"Yellow and orange tends to fade the quickest just because they're so bright, so I built up the colors a lot and the shading with the whites and darker oranges should keep it looking bright!" Solidarity smirked, clearly proud of himself.

"Dude, oh my god..."

"I TOLD YOU HE WAS GOOD!" Tango giggled, grabbing Solidarity's cheeks and kissing him. The dirty blonde blushed and smiled, giggling.

The sheriff then grabbed some petroleum jelly and gently rubbed it on Joel's arm, wrapping it in plastic wrap and then a bandage, "Keep this on for 24 hours. You take it off early, I will find you and kill you for ruining my masterpiece."

"Got it." Joel smiled, "Well, then, I'm off-"

"Excuse me?" Solidarity glared, "My work ain't free."

"Oh, uh... what do you want? Diamonds, iron? How much?"

"A stack of diamonds." Solidarity smirked.

"WHAT?! I DON'T HAVE THAT!"

"Then, I guess you owe me-"

"Oh, I know!" Tango smiled, "You can give him a kiss!"

"WHAT?!" "T-TANGO!"

"Whaaaat~? My tattoo cost a kiss!"

"T-That's because you're my husband, th-there's a difference!"

Joel hummed before he smirked, "I can give you that~"

"H-Huh-"

The brunette grabbed Solidarity's chin and pulled him in for a kiss. The dirty blonde blushed darkly as Joel hummed, kissing him so gently. The sheriff put his hands on Joel's chest and pushed him back, face bright red.

"Y-YOU-! TH-THIS IS DISRESPECT TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I EVER GIVE YOU A TATTOO!" Solidarity screamed, grabbing his things and angrily washing everything off.

Tango chuckled and helped Joel sit up, "Don't be upset. He's fine."

Joel snickered, "At least I don't have to pay!"

The blaze chuckled, "Your welcome~! I know he's my husband and we're suppose to be on the same page, but seeing him get so flustered is so adorable! How can I pass that up?!"

The brunette stood up and looked around. He went to the Ender Chest and then took out 20 diamonds, giving them to Tango, smiling, "Give them to the toy man."

The blaze smiled and nodded, "I will."

Joel then left, smiling.

***

"Wow, Joel! That tattoo is awesome! Did you go to the same artist as Tango?"

Joel smiled at Grian, "Yep!"

"Who's the artist?!" Grian hummed, "I might get one!"

The brunette looked up and pointed at the sheriff who was talking with Scar.

"....No way."

"Yes way."

[smoooothoperator]

Therapy (M.S.)

Tattoos, a permanent ink that stays with you until you die or until you decide to get rid of it. They can mean something important with an important meaning behind the ink, or simply a stupid night with friends. It can be the signature of someone important, or just a thing you liked when you saw it for the first time but now you see it and think that it was the stupidest idea you ever had.

Tattoos can mean a lot of things. Like the signature on my wrist and the little nickname on my forearm, as a reminder of my grandmother. Or the hearts in my hips as a reminder of loving my beauty marks. Or the flowers on my left thigh.

All of them mean something.

The first time he saw them was the first time we slept together, at his apartment. He saw some of them, the most visible ones. I’m not ashamed of every inch of ink on my skin, but the moment he saw them for the first time, I was panicking.

“Liebe… What do they mean?” he asked me, with so much love in his eyes that he made me sob. So I told him, I told him the meaning of evey one, their story behind and why I made them. “That is so beautiful, really. You have permanent marks of important people and moments”

He made me love my tattoos even more. Every time I was nervous he just traced his fingers on the lines. He spent his time admiring the ink on my skin, kissing them. And it made me relax.

When he started his season in Formula 1, he was at his worst. I never saw him like that: panic attacks, anxiety, angry all the time. The sweet Mick was gone every time he had a race, or training sessions, or meetings. He was grumpy, humming all the time, cursing at the bad behavior of his teammate. He did extra hours of workouts just to take off all his stress, but once he came back home he continued to be stressed.

“Mick, love. How can I help you?” I asked him, tired of watching him having anxiety all the time. “I want to help, talk to me”. “You can’t do anything” he said, groaning. I sighed and hugged his torso, making him wrap his arms around me and rest his chin on my head. “We’ll search for something that can help you relax, alright?”

So we did. We tried many things together, but none of them worked. His anxiety grew even more when he found out that Netflix wanted to do a film about his father and that he was going to be there, talking about how he feels.

“I can’t. I really can’t go there and talk about the accident again” he mumbled near a panic attack, curled on the floor of his room next to his bed. “Mick. You can. I know you can because you are so strong. And I’ll be there, I promise you”.

Sweet words worked at first. Watching me there worked, it seemed that my presence helped him to stay calm. So I started to go to the races. And I understood why he was stressed. I tried to be with him when he was free, talking with him, saying those magical sweet words that used to work, cuddling in the couch of his driver room and brushing his hair.

But it stopped working. So we went back again searching for solutions on how to deal with his anxiety and stress.

But the solution was always in front of me. More like, in me.

When I searched for opinions of people dealing with anxiety and stress, I found that some of them used to paint or draw mandalas. So we did that. We went to a store and bought some pencil colors and mandala books. And with all the hope of the word, he started with that.

But it didn’t work.

“Fuck! Really, what the hell is wrong with me?” he exclaimed, throwing the book away and leaning on the back of the couch. “Mick, really. Calm down” I said trying to grab his hands. “How can I calm down? How the hell will I calm down if I can’t even focus on a paper?”

He was without control. All the fake smiles he did at the paddock became groans and sighs once he was alone with me. And he knew that it made me nervous, so he did the only thing that could calm me: trace my tattoos.

“Wait… I have an idea” I said looking at him and then at the flowers on my thighs. I stood up from the couch and grabbed my bag, taking the little make up bag from it and handed it to him. “Paint my tattoo”. “What?”. “Yeah. Use whatever you want from my make up and paint the flowers”. So he did that. He used my eyeshadow palette, the lipstick and the highlater and painted the roses and their leaves. “How are you feeling?” I whispered to him, looking at my colorful tattoo and then at him. “Good”

The solution was my tattoos. So everytime I went with him to a race I put a little pencil case with color pens so he could paint my skin. At the start it was weird, because I had to go to his room and literally undress, or at least take off my shirt so he could paint my arms. And as the warm weather came, he painted my thigh. So I always went to the races with long dresses or skirts.

But it was worth it. Because I was his therapy and he was my therapy.

[cryptid-killjoy]

He'd notice every one of her touches. He was so thorough he'd even pause just to value them too. The precious tenderness of his affection had a way of always taking center stage even when the urgency of physical desire started to blur his lucid states.

When he was gone whether lost in lust, pure physicality taken over, or some other cross of consciousness that caused his eyes to not quite connect when in a place of pleasure, he was never gone enough to forget her name, never gone enough to think he wasn't home.

Frosted Flakes is exactly how his thought process began. Bastien put that turn of phrase together only the pictures went from Frosted Flakes, to frosting on a cake, to images of whipping cream, to icing to diamonds, to the phrase Frost Yourself from some old Mcconaughey movie. Then out popped frosted pussy while thinking of the queen in some fantasy movie stepping in a white tub of milk bath naked and damn it was hot, so fuck yeah, somehow Bastien's mind put all that together in one point two seconds as he indulged.

Once Bastien had her bouncing on his cock though, seated on his lap as he knelt on the bed, and she helped keep the pace, he grew louder himself. He wasn't always a big talker or even the most directive partner usually wanting to make sure everything was always Maddy's pace for so many refuses to make her do one thing she doesn't want to do reasons. Tonight however he was taking what he wanted. That side of him came out sometimes, though he wasn't harsh. He wasn't asking first, but she didn't seem to be complaining either. So, he kept going.

Even when she called out his name he kept going. He liked feeling those titties over his arm and started to watch over her shoulder, squeezing from underneath. Then the sound of her voice would stimulate the heat in his tummy so bad he'd have to look down her spine only to see that ass spread over him. He nearly lost his breath at the sight of the jiggle as he swatted one globe and then traded his grip on her ribs for a hold on her hips. He'd push her gently back down on all fours and Oh-oh-Oh what a beautiful back side sight. Now that was worth living for. His eyes would go skiing down the slope of her spine and up the butterfly mountaintops of her shoulders all covered in the spillways of her dark hair. His fingers dug into that pelvis and pulled her into him more as he thrust.

That's where he found his sweet spot, right there. He went on until he finally came leaning over the back of her until his face met her shoulder and bore down. He'd hold there groaning it out, breathing it out until fruition. The moment he could catch his breath to find her face and turn his body alongside hers in such a way he could face her side by side. The particular arm that was laid over her was the one with her name on it and his eyes caught sight of it as he moved some of her hair and was touching over her shape of her neck. He was very thankful for his penciled in time.

"I love you, Maddy Bellerose. I'm ready for the Philippines now."

He heard his own voice say those words, but in the background he heard other voices in the voyeur box. The gargoyles yes, but also Jetsam and Savvy's deep Santa-like voice watching like they'd just seen a movie offering popcorn to the trio. "Asian interference. Ho. Ho. Ho. We waits for New Zealand. Soon Jetsam. Soon."

All hearing the words New Zealand in the background did to Bastien was make his mind wander off to the dress he had Willem secretly readying for Maddy. It made him smile as he imagined it on her, the pale color against her skin. He'd trace his fingers just under her collarbone imagining the neckline.

"Thanks again for penciling me in. Can you jot that down as a standing appointment? I think I need to come in more often."

He wasn't sure he'd made a lot of appointments for too many places in his life, certainly not doctors, and he wasn't really a list making guy that planned much ahead, and maybe it wouldn't really work that way, but he definitely saw the benefit in this one.

Bah, research. Even Dr. Frankenstein would tell Maddy as much as reading up and being prepared is good, often times all it does is give new mothers a thousand useless things to worry about in case they're the select few of the small percentile. Just leave it to their doctor if something felt wrong. Yes.

Off went the shirt.

Then there was Bastien who didn't think about whether they were medically healthy or not. All he knew was when the fabric came down his wife's titties had the power to get him sprung thank you very much. Pants tight. Heat in his throat. The coil in the pit of his gut that would connect the two growing ever more present to him as he pulled her near. It was like his insides that felt invisible before suddenly became tangible parts of him he was fully aware of right up his center and every part of that parallel line needed to align with Maddy. Closer. Closer. Not close enough yet and he had right up against him.

Large enough hands to carry his giant troll hammer, strength in his grip to enough whirl it on his shoulder to switch smashing ends, but gentle enough composure to caress her breasts like they were delicate artwork precious in his palms. Even the look on his face elated to touch his fingertips over their texture feeling the difference the nub verses the smoothness of the under-skin. Even the taste was Bastien enjoying his textures again, his wife's textures not some factory made linen.

He was penciled in. So, he was utilizing his time. His honey skinned girl might not have tasted literally as sweet as such as this. But, oh when his tongue ribbed the bumpy feeling of nipple after cruising between hills of smooth breasts and tasted her milk there was a pause in him. He could smell baby. One didn't need to be a wolf to catch it if they were this close. Bastien was a slow guy. He had issues, delusions, beliefs, and out there guy is the term. Not everything he believed was based in reality. He hadn't been like Thomas all up on Valerie. He wasn't going to "take" what was for Frankie. Bastien had already gone through worst case scenarios in his head where if he got stuck in a cabin during a zombie apocalypse or a snow storm, then and only then would he feed from his wife if he needed to to survive, things like that. But, Bastien had a trauma brain that constantly thought of wild scenarios to be ready for ever watching his back, and well, now his family's back making up survival plans.

So, it was in this moment as they were finally nearly a year out and baby foods were being introduced he was taking a slow down during his penciled in time. Maybe a part of him thought that through. Frankie would be fine, but mostly he was just lost there in this gorgeous set of brown tittie so soft and sweet on his tongue, so warm when the liquid unintentionally pooled in his mouth, and his responsive reaction was a hand shot straight down to his belt line to yank it open. The sound of the buckle would fill the air. Zipper. Pants shoved and kicked while still holding his cock in his hand. He was squeezing his cock as he latched on, truly lost in her for just moment. Bastien was gone. Somewhere else. Everything was instinctive. His thoughts were gone.

He looked up from her chest as he lapped up his new found joy. As a white droplet lay against her he couldn't help but think it was just beautiful against her skin as his cum.

Then he pushed her back while kissing that exquisite face that said yes in the pumpkin patch, the face too good for his, always someone else's, never listens but it always there face that could never see past the end of her nose, his wife's, Mrs Bellerose's face with those endearing yes lips. But, suddenly it wasn't those lips he couldn't get out of his head.

This was a man on self serve tonight as instinctual more raw and filthy possessing moves came out in him. Once he yanked and peeled her pants and useless panties off he crushed down for a face melting kiss as he gripped her breasts and then kissed his way down her chest and belly. He could feel milk pour over his knuckles with that move. He took the warm liquid over the back of his hand and wiped it between her legs like he was spreading icing on a cake. Then with a near smirk he went face first into the best first lick of ooey gooey pussy ever with a hint of something new.

"Mmm frosted pussy." He even said it out loud like he was gone, a haunted tone, speaking more as someone satiated by a delicious bite rather than speaking to someone. He would take more than his fair share too, lingering in places Maddy probably didn't need, but he was taking his time for his own sake. That boy liked to use his tongue.

But, that also wasn't stopping Mr. Bellerose from going for his tried and true never even guilty about favorite viewing pleasure. Dat ass. When he finally came up for air he was pushing her over on all fours to get the good view. Two big hammer holding palms on those palpable globes so good for squeezing. He'd give that twat a nice little pat all good from under that ass of those spread knees. Damn his wife had a hot ass. He couldn't stop thinking it every time she was bent over. Then he anchored himself to her, grabbed his cock, and hauled in that pretty pink space so soft. It was a doggie style move, but just after he shoved in he wrapped his arms around her to pull her up so she'd no longer be on all fours. She'd be sitting backwards in his lap, her back against his chest, his cock firmly inside her.

Then he'd keep his arms wrapped around her ribcage, his head over her shoulder, cock thrusting in a haze, mind in a state, but in that state would think he needed penciled every day. Even the gargoyles were suddenly looking like they were in the spy room getting turned like Columbia and Magenta being voyeurs.

"Fuck I needed this."

As if it'd been anywhere, but maybe parenthood and distractions had a way of slowing down Bastien's roll.

[milkiane]

more than just a stupid rivalry

pairings: harry potter x reader (requested)

warnings: usual enemies to lovers bickering, adoption, insecurities, mean draco, mentions of food, m-slur word, intrusive thoughts. angst//fluff

word count: 6534 — i kinda got carried away, oops :D

you were propped up on your elbows, sprawled across your carpet-covered living room floor one night. your parents cuddled on the couch, soft whispers and loving glances were exchanged as they gazed at their perfect, normal little child. crayons, pencils, markers, and stacks of art paper scattered around you. your current masterpiece was a childish family portrait.

you just finished tracing the last line which completed your artwork. you let out a content sigh, raising your drawing to show your parents, grinning widely as they praised you with sweet smiles.

“how ‘bout you color it, honey? give us some vibrant clothes, yeah?” your mother suggested, placing her teacup on top of the coffee table as she settled back into the arms of her husband. you nodded excitedly, finding her idea brilliant.

you were already done with yours and your mother’s clothes, which leaves you with your father’s to color, “dad, what color do you want your shirt to be?”

he gave you a thoughtful look; furrowed eyebrows, a finger tapping his chin, and a pondering ‘hmm’

“do you have a bright blue color, honey? that would be great if you do,” he said.

you beamed at him, looking around for the desired color. you glanced at the coffee table in front of your parents, numerous crayons on top, until your eyes landed on the blue crayon. you let out a frustrated sigh, too occupied with your work to stand up, so you did the most proper thing a kid should do-- make grabby hands and hope that it would somehow magically appear in your grasp. you knew it wouldn’t work though, that’s why your parents let out amused chuckles. even a toddler would realize that that isn’t how it works, one way or another.

… except it did. one moment the crayon was there on the table, laying there motionless and undisturbed, then the next thing you know, it flew right in your hold, earning a startled gasp from your parents. you froze, eyes widened and jaw dropped. you were confused and a bit terrified, so you risked a glance at your parents, who were wearing identical looks of horror and distress. if the circumstances were different, you would probably be ecstatic to find out that you had magic in your blood, but since the atmosphere was thick with such emotions, you knew that this wasn’t a good thing. subsequently, you wished you never snook a glance. you wished you just stood up and grabbed the crayon like a normal child. you wished you just asked them what was wrong. you wished that you demanded some answers. you wished that you didn’t go up to your room immediately after what happened. you wished that you didn’t go up against the wall and listen to their frantic whispers.

you cried yourself to sleep that night.

“miss l/n!” the tedious voice of your professor startled you from your evident zoned-out trance, earning a poorly hidden attempt of snickers. you glared at the bespectacled boy. you turned away and glanced back at snape, whose face was contorted into a scowl, “it would be deeply appreciated if you were to pay attention unless you wish to fail potions, which i would be more than pleased to do,”

you grimaced at his drawled tone, muttering a small yes professor. you let out a quiet sigh as he turned back around, immensely grateful that he didn’t deduct points from your house.

“15 points from y/h.” -- spoke too soon.

you groaned as you heard the disappointed sighs of your housemates, just wishing for the day to be over.

to say that you were having a bad day was an understatement. you felt terrible, and this regularly happens whenever your mind brings you back to the memories of your family and what it could’ve been if they accepted you for who you are or what it could’ve been if you were just as ordinary like them. however, you couldn’t even spare a thought if you were to be just a muggle.

experiencing such adventures, such magic-- it just makes you feel so fierce. it makes you think that you're something special. you never wanted to go back to the way you were before, you loved having magic in your blood. you just wished that your family was here with you to support you, to love and care for you. you wish that they were there to listen to you talk about all the lessons and experiences you’ve had in hogwarts, but alas, you knew that all you could do was dream.

you were making your way to the greenhouses for herbology class with your friend who was chattering your ear away whilst you were staring at your polished old shoes, trying to sync your footsteps with hers. you listened, of course, nodding and humming at the right time, reacting if needed, but you didn’t have the energy to talk, and she knew that, she respected it, knowing what was going on in your head. that’s why you let her talk out of her mind to keep your intrusive thoughts away.

well, that was until someone bumped into you. the impact making you fall flat on your arse and letting out a pained groan.

“ah-- i’m sorry, h-here, let me help you up,” the person who has bumped into you offered you his hand, making you look up.

you rolled your eyes and smacked his hand away, “just…”

you sighed, not in the mood to start a childish squabble, “just watch where you’re going, potter.”

he and his friends just gawked at you, watching as you took your friend’s hand instead and walked away. you were never one to leave without practically biting his head off and yours his, or without a snarky comment. he watched you go smaller and smaller as you walked away from him to your destination.

he let his friends drag him away towards the gryffindor tower to grab their herbology books, shaking off his confused daze.

ever since the moment you’ve found out about your ‘powers’, you’ve been trying to perform it again, meaning, you’ve been distracted in class. your middle school teacher has reprimanded you for the umpteenth time until she threatened to call your parents.

speaking of parents-- they’ve been more distant than ever. you still ate together and they still talk to you, of course, but it isn’t the same anymore. they’re both at home, they’re speaking, they’re eating, they’re moving, but it feels like they aren’t here. i’ve never felt so lonely.

so when they called you down from your room, you swore that you’ve never gone down so fast in your life. this was the first time they’ve willingly called you. is this it? will you finally go back to normal? will they finally talk to you about your profound ‘magic powers’?

“go pack some clothes and a few things of yours, honey. we’re going on a holiday,” your mother smiled. if you bothered to study their expressions and their mannerisms, you would’ve seen how fake and forced her smile was or how there were unshed tears in her eyes, but here you were, rushing back upstairs and packing a few of your things in your suitcase.

you stopped by your nightstand, staring at the photo of you and your parents, all smiling widely at you. it was as if they were making you bring them along. without any more thought, you removed it from the frame and tucked it into one of your journals.

satisfied, you dragged your trunk behind you and went downstairs where your parents have been waiting for you with solemn faces. you let your father carry your things as you ran to the car, excited for some family bonding.

10 year old you was practically bouncing around with exhilaration, you kept asking them where you were going, what you were going to do, or why you were going. they gave you the same answer every time, “you’ll just have to wait and see, y/n.”

which confused you a bit because they usually call you ‘honey’, and only call you by your name whenever you were in trouble or they were serious about something. you were worried and nervous, to say the least, but the delight was still radiating off of you.

you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get any answers from them anytime soon, so you slowly dozed off to the light patter of the rain.

you groggily woke up with a yawn when you felt the car screech to a stop. blinking away the remaining sleep, you sat upright and rubbed your eyes.

“come on, y/n,” your father turned the car off and opened your door. your mother trailing behind you as she carried your luggage.

as soon as you went into the massive building, the first thing that you’ve noticed is that it looks like a hotel but the thing that disturbed you is that there were kids, but there were no adults around except for the staff. the said kids stopped for a second with what they were doing, pausing for a moment to give you the same somber looks your parents gave you just before you left, which just pushed you a bit on edge. you knew where you were, but you didn’t want to accept it.

“uhm, dad? what are we doing here?” you asked, nervousness laced in your voice. he paid you no mind. he was scared. scared that if he looked at you, he would break.

so you went to your mom and grabbed her hand, “mum? mum, please, where are we?”

she was slightly shaking, carefully removing your hold on her and kissed your forehead. you were starting to feel the tears in your eyes. you looked back at your father just in time as he nodded his head to a woman, whispering a small, ‘please take care of her for us.’ but you heard him anyways.

“dad? n-no, please, don’t leave me,” you hugged him, you were sure that you were squeezing him too hard. you can feel the stares of the kids around you but you ignored them.

“i’m sorry, y/n, we really are,” he shrugged you off. the woman from a while ago hugged you from behind, preventing you from following your parents.

“mum! dad! please, no! don’t leave me, please!” you were sobbing by now, shaking off the woman’s firm hold of you.

“i’m sorry, mum, please! don’t leave me here! i’ll be good, i’ll be good!” you cried as you watch the tears fall from their faces. they sneaked one last glance at you before closing the doors behind them.

“no, no! please, ma’am, just let me go back home! please, i don’t wanna be here.” you sank down the floor, bringing her with you.

“i’m sorry, hon, i promised to take care of you. look at all those kids,” she shushed you comfortingly, “your parents said you were their only child, now look, you’ve got tons of kids to play with,”

“but i don’t want to, please, i just want to go home,” you hiccuped, staring at the place they stood before leaving you for good.

“ … by pairs,” professor sprout clasped her hands together, snapping you out of your thoughts.

you took a deep breath, blinking the tears away. sniffling, you leaned a bit towards your friend, “hey, what was she talking about?”

she gave you a concerned glance, “are you alright? this is the third time today you zoned out,”

you gave her an unconvincing nod, “yeah, yeah,”

“granger and evans,” hollered professor sprout, you glanced upfront before bringing it back to your seatmate.

“professor sprout will assign us by pairs for a project,” she whispered

“finiggan and abbott,”

“what d’we have to do?” you furrowed your eyebrows, cursing yourself for getting carried away with your thoughts.

“weasley and belmont,”

“study about dittany and create the potion, it’s a unified project with potions, then if it is good enough, it would be given to madam pomfrey,”

“stoneheart and parkinson,”

“that’s me, i’ll see you later,” she said and grabbed her bag before heading to her partner.

you sighed, rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from reliving the memories coming.

“potter and l/n,”

nevermind that, the headache is already here. you groaned, glaring at him as you made eye contact. you begrudgingly gathered your things before making your way towards him.

harry looked at you from his peripheral vision as you sat down, discreetly observing as you haven’t made a move to taunt him yet.

“y’know, if you’re going to stare at someone, you might as well make it subtle,” you jeered at him, sitting upright to scowl at him. ah, there it is, he thought.

he made no comment, opting to talk about the project instead, “class ends in a few minutes, d’you want to start by tomorrow afternoon? i have a free period after lunch,”

you sighed, massaging your temples as the headache was starting to feel overbearing, “sure, whatever, i’ll meet you by the courtyard,”

silence, if you were going to ignore the chatter amongst your classmates, was the only thing that surrounded the both of you, and honestly speaking? you’d rather have that than talk to him.

well, that was, until he decided to awkwardly clear his throat and say, “you look horrible,”

you scoffed at him, crossing your arms as you retorted, “gee, thanks, you look absolutely dashing as well, you minger,”

“what has gotten your knickers in a twist, l/n?”

you gave him a mocking thoughtful look, “hmm, i- i- uh, i think it’s you,”

he let out a laugh, making you fume more, “well, if i make you all flustered, you should’ve said so instead of deciding to bite my head off every time we see each other,”

harry didn’t know where his sudden confidence came, but he was thanking merlin as he saw the slight blush on your cheeks.

“sod off, you plonker, as if i’ll stoop so low for someone like you,” you sneered, grabbing your bag as your professor dismissed you.

harry never really knew how and why the two of you were getting into each other’s throats all the time— all he knew is that if you two met on the right foot, you would probably be the greatest of friends. he watches you, as much as he hates to admit it, but to his defense, it was only to observe you and taunt you when you did something out of place. yeah, that’s the reason.

he shudders, making his way to ron and hermione who were, as usual, fighting like an old married couple.

“where’ve you been? you’re late,” harry grumbled, shuffling against the tree as he shut his herbology book.

“i’m a few minutes late, potter. if you wanted to see me that bad, you should’ve told me,” you retorted, restating the tease he told you yesterday.

he ignored you.

you sighed, sitting down in front of him but at a tolerable distance, “let’s just get this over it. the sooner we’re finished, the sooner i’ll be away from you,”

“wow, i know i’m a great person to be around with, no need to boost my ego,” he quipped. you rolled your eyes and brought out a quill, writing the procedures of creating dittany.

the both of you had this some sort of mutual understanding about how to work. you wrote down everything that’s needed, because honestly? the both of you knew that if you wanted your written work to be understood, don’t let harry write. he scanned through his book, jotting down what he thinks is important in a small piece of parchment and passing it to you.

and shockingly, comfortable silence surrounded the both of you, except for the occasional chatter as people walk past by you.

it was… peaceful, if you must say. well, that was, until,

“so, the weather’s nice, yeah?” he spoke (awkwardly as he probably regrets breaking the silence), leaning against the tree.

you made a face when you stared at him, “i- are- are you trying to start a small talk?”

“yeah,” he grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

“uhm, yeah, l-let’s not,” you shook your head.

you brought your gaze back to the parchment, biting your lip to prevent him from seeing your smile.

it didn’t work though, as he still saw it. it was poorly hidden. he grinned, maybe you could have something more than just a stupid rivalry.

“you mean to say that you, too, are magic?” you asked your caretaker, rose.

she let out a chuckle, “mhm, and you’ll love it at hogwarts, my dear, it truly is an amazing school,”

“but, what about the next family that’ll adopt me? they- that means they’ll like me, right? i’m- i’m special…” you said, well, convinced, really. you’re trying to convince yourself as this was the umpteenth time that you’ve been adopted. they always return you, why do you even try.

“of course, they’ll be such a fool not to,” she grabbed her purse and offering you her hand to take, “now, let’s go to diagon alley and buy the things that you need,”

you smiled, grabbing her hand, as she teleported (apparated) you to the wizard village.

you were walking towards your next class when you heard someone called your name. you turned around to the source of the sound. you sighed, walking away just to spite him.

“hey, wait!” his footsteps grew louder as he got nearer.

you stopped in your tracks, making harry jog beyond you, and when he realized this, he glared at you, which you gladly returned with a smirk.

you hummed, “what is it that you need, potter?”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stepped closer to you. too close for your liking.

“stop,” you raised a hand towards him, a few more inches and it would touch his chest.

“what? i haven’t even said anythi—”

“scootch.” you gestured to him to back off with your hands.

“i- wha-“

“scootch!”

“alright, okay! why?”

you watched as the students in the hallway looked at the both of you, but walked away within a second as they needed to get to class.

“someone might think we’re friends, we don’t want that.”

“i- i cannot stand you sometimes,“ harry sighed, but a ghost of a smile was on his lips.

you smirked, “then sit down, you plonker,”

“can we meet up again later? for the herbolotions project?” he asked, mentally chuckling at your comeback.

you snorted.

“what’s so hilarious about what i said?” harry was beyond confused, he did just ask about meeting up, right?

“yeah, sure, i’ll meet you at the courtyard at three for our,” you paused, letting out another snort (which harry thought was cute but he would never admit that), “herbolotions project,”

harry’s eyes widened. he didn’t say that now, did he? he’s sure he said herbo— no. he vows to smack ron’s head the next time he sees him.

“sorry, ron- ron always calls it that since y’know it’s a project f-for both herbology and potions, and it just kind of stuck,” he explains, cursing himself for stuttering.

you chuckled, glancing at your watch for the time, “‘m nearly late for class. i’ll see you later, harry.”

harry was about to wave you goodbye when realization struck him. you had just called him by his name. i mean, yeah, potter is his last name, but it was the first time that you’ve called him by ‘harry’. he smiled, doing a little victorious dance for the evident improvement— before he was interrupted by mcgonagall, who demanded him for an answer as to why he wasn’t in class yet.

“have you heard? harry potter nearly blew his aunt up,” a girl from one of the carriages said. you rolled your eyes, grabbing your trunk and getting away from her.

it’s always harry here, harry there.

oh poor harry is stuck with his muggle aunt and uncle again.

oh poor harry has to handle the bad treatment again this summer.

oh poor harry lost his parents, at least he knows that they loved him dearly.

oh poor harry has this scar on his head, let’s give him some attention.

harry, harry, harry. it is sickening.

oh yes, yes, bravo for defeating he-who-must-not-be-named, mhm yes, we admire you for that.

you thought that the both of you would get along well. y’know, seeing as your experiences are nearly the same. you had something to bond over. well, you wouldn’t necessarily say ‘bond’, but you’ve got something to talk about. something personal, something to relate to.

you tried, you did. you really couldn’t say that you didn’t.

first year

“harry, hi! how’re y-“

“erm, yes, hello. have you somehow seen hermione around?”

“o-oh no i haven’t, but though, do you have the time to-“

“oh that’s alright, thank you!”

second year

“hello, harry. have you heard about the attacks going around?”

“ah, yes, erm- ‘ve got to get going, i promised to play wizard’s chess with ron,”

“oh, that’s… alright…”

the feeling of being alone, the same feeling from when the people you’ve once called your parents have been distancing themselves from you, has once again taken over your mentality. sure, you had your roommate to give you some company, but even she found herself a group of friends who’s shared the same interests and experiences as her. you felt deserted, you felt the sting of pain as he pushed you away yet again before you have even gotten the chance to get to know each other. you didn’t even want to be friends just because of his fame, you just wanted someone who’s experienced the same sorrow as you, someone who you knew would understand.

you were alike in many different ways. why does he still get to be happy? don’t you deserve happiness, too? he has friends who love him dearly. the weasleys practically made him part— no, he already is part of the family.

why does he get to have it all whilst you were just abandoned and given up on, time and time again?

you thought that going into a magical school would give you have a fresh start. maybe a family would take interest in you as you were special. you are special. you would be able to learn how to experience magic. maybe you would be able to tell your family about your magical encounters. maybe the family that would adopt you would be proud. you’d be able to tell them all about your poxy potions professor. you’d be able to tell them all about the friends you’ve made.

… but that didn’t happen, it would never happen, because in just a span of three weeks (which is a world record) of knowing about your connection to magic, they’ve sent you back to the center and signed a bunch of papers to legally un-adopt you. you didn’t even know if that was a word.

now you’re here, stuck in the center where the kids made fun of you for being a ’freak’. in a school where you only have one friend, you didn’t even know if she considered you as hers, too, but i guess the company is still appreciated. and stuck with breathing the same air as harry potter.

people would say that you’re jealous. maybe you were, but you were too blinded with envy and misery to admit that.

so you did the most appropriate thing you could possibly think of. taunt harry potter endlessly. start bickering with him. insult him. come up with snarky comebacks.

harry paid no mind at first, but it was becoming a routine for you, so he chipped in. he loved the attention you were giving him. a girl, giving him attention. okay, maybe not the attention he expected, but it was better than nothing, he said.

that leaves you to where you were now, and a part of you was saying that it has been your own fault for getting ahead of yourself and assuming that once you’ve spoken to harry, everything would be all rainbows and sunshine, that there would finally be someone who’ll understand and suddenly everything would be okay. you should’ve known that that wouldn’t be the case. it hasn’t been ever since your… your family left you.

as soon as harry was sat down at the gryffindor’s dining table. he did what he had to do.

ron let out a yelp, “what the bloody hell is the matter with you, you git?”

hermione had her eyebrows raised as she looked up from her essay, observing her two barmy best friends.

“you- you and your her-herbolotions!” harry sputtered out, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as he relived the memory.

“what is it then? you didn’t have to hit me!” ron groaned, rubbing the back of his head to soothe the pain.

“t’has gotten me humiliated,” harry took his glasses off for a moment, as he, too, needed to soothe his head.

“‘tis not my fault you’ve said it. who’d you mention that to, anyways?” ron asked, gobbling up a chicken wing, ignoring hermione’s disgusted glare.

“y/n…” he muttered, too late to back down, they would’ve known one way or another.

hermione’s eyebrows shot up higher than before and ron nearly choked on his food when they heard this. they both exchanged looks.

“why would you care about what she thinks, mate?” ron asked as soon as he gulps down his goblet of water.

hermione marked her page with a bookmark luna gave her before continuing ron’s statement, leaving him no room to talk, “you’ve never cared about her opinions, harry…”

she and ron exchanged another glance, a knowing one this time. she continued, “that is, unless you’re starting to fancy her.”

“you fancy her, mate, don’t you?”

his eyes widened, looking at the both of them in disbelief, “what? no, i do not fancy her— she’s annoying, and barmy, and the way she twirls her hair when she’s nervous? it’s just stupid.”

they both gave him a pointed look. he was confused at first before realizing what he said, “alright, maybe just a tad, but that’s it!”

“it’s just— she’s perfect, y’know? we may have started on the wrong foot, but i could really see that she’s a brilliant person. she’s kind, she’s intelligent, funny, and caring, and as much as i hate to admit it, i enjoy the mandatory bickering we have,” he pondered, before snapping out of his thoughts as he realized that he was rambling, “but it isn’t as if she likes me back. she loathes me, hermione,”

“please, harry, we could cut the romantic tension with a knife when the two of you are in the same room,” she scoffed, bringing her attention back to her book.

“just tell her how you feel, mate, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” ron added, serving himself another round of food.

harry rolled his eyes, letting out a pathetic scoff, “you’re both hypocrites, y’know that? you’re telling me what to do when the both of you are clearly oblivious about your feelings for one another,”

he grinned in triumph as he saw the blush occupying his best friends’ faces. classic.

you were currently eating lunch while writing down important points for your potion when your friend spoke up, “y/n, harry’s been looking at you for the past five minutes,”

you paused for a bit, looking up just in time as he looked away, “he’s not,”

your friend looked back at him, “he was! he just looked away when you—“ she sighed, finding this whole thing pointless. a part of her knew that you liked harry, even if it was just miniscule. you’ve been… different, to say the least. good different. you were starting to smile a bit more, you weren’t zoning out as much, and all of this has happened when you were partnered with harry potter, the boy whom you have claimed as your rival. she has managed to catch up, too, when you’ve started talking about him and calling him ‘harry’ instead of ‘rotter potter’.

“well, why d’you care if he was looking at you?” she asked, trying to get some answers out of you so that you would be able to recognize your feelings for the bespectacled boy.

“i- i don’t!” you argued, scoffing, before turning your attention back to your work.

“c’mon y/n, we both know that you fancy the bloke,” she insisted.

“i do not fancy harry.”

“yeah? when did you ever start calling him harry, then?” she gave a pointed look. your eyes widened for a bit, did you really call him by harry? why is this a big deal anyways?

“alright, i call him harry! but that doesn’t mean i fancy the hell out of him,” you protested, “he’s awful, and awkward, and selfish. i hate his stupid smirk, and his stupid enticing green eyes, and that untidy hair.”

she was about to forfeit as she thought that, again, this wasn’t going anywhere, but you proved her otherwise as you continued rambling.

“i loathe that adorable laugh, and those small little smiles he make, and—“

“erm, y/n, i think we’re getting a bit out of topic here?” your friend smirked.

you froze, did you really say all that? “bloody hell…”

stoneheart - 1

l/n - 0

you were in the middle of rummaging through your things, checking if everything that you needed for brewing the potion was complete when someone bumped into you, making you drop your things on the ground.

“watch where you’re going, mudblood,” draco snarled, he dusted off his robes before bumping into your shoulder, his flunkies doing the same.

but he stopped in his tracks, picking up a fallen piece of parchment which contains your herbolotions— ah, herbology-potions assignment.

you’ve managed to pick up the rest and haven’t noticed what was missing until you stood up and see what was in his grasp, “give it here,”

“ah, i see you’ve done the assignment quite early, yes? you don’t mind if i borrow this now, do i?”

“no, i very much mind, give it back!” you tried to snatch it from him but to no avail.

“ah, ah! didn’t your stupid mummy ever teach you some manners?” he teased, crabbe and goyle laughing at his words.

“don’t call her stupid,” you snarled, tightening your grip on your bag.

“oh wait, that’s right. you don’t have one and you’ll never have one,” he chortled, “i don’t blame her, really. i mean, who would ever torture themselves by loving a pathetic mudblood like you?”

you’re starting to feel the tears in your eyes, but you were determined not to let him get the best of you.

you’ve quite have had enough with his prideful and vile attitude, so you, without thinking, threw your book towards him. a satisfying thump has echoed across the hallways as it hit his face.

you wished you would’ve done that instead, but your emotions have thought otherwise as you pushed past them, leaving your dittany assignment with him.

tears were continuously falling as you ran, determined to get away from this obscure reality. you were trying to get through the flooded hallways— mindlessly bumping and pushing past through the students. you paid them no mind as they yelped and scolded you.

you just ran, and ran, letting your feet bring you wherever.

harry was one of the people you’ve managed to bump into, he was about to tell you off when he caught a glimpse of your h/c hair and y/h robes.

without thinking, he ran after you, ignoring the calls of his friends. he didn’t know why. he didn’t know what came into his mind, but he had the sudden urge to be there for you, to shove your sadness away. he wanted you to be happy.

“oh wait, that’s right. you don’t have one and you’ll never have one,”

“i don’t blame her, really. i mean, who would ever torture themselves by loving a pathetic mudblood like you?”

draco’s words have been haunting you for the past few minutes since you’ve arrived at the astronomy tower.

you took in the beautiful view of the glistening lake. how can something be so beautiful in such a messed up world like this?

your eyes were puffy, tears were still slowly streaming across your cheeks. you sniffled, you reckoned draco was right though. you wouldn’t be in this situation now if your parents indeed loved you for who you were, but that isn’t the case now, isn’t it? you let out a humorless chuckle. pathetic.

harry knew you went to the astronomy tower, but he decided to wait a few minutes to give you some space. meaning, this also gave him some time to think about the proper and appropriate words to tell you.

is this going to be the right time to tell you that he fancies you? is this even right? he thought, you’re currently in a vulnerable state. he wished hermione was there to tell him what to do.

he sighed, climbing up the rickety stairs. as he reached the top, he saw you curled up, your chin was on top of your knees as they were folded against your chest.

you’re beautiful. he thought.

your head immediately snapped towards the direction, eyes huge as you wiped your tears, “w-what?”

he didn’t say that out loud now, did he? bloody hell.

“i- i-“ he sighed, “are you alright?”

“whatever are you doing here anyway?” you asked, removing your gaze from him. harry paused for a moment, before he came closer to you, sitting next to you.

you gave him a curious look. he chuckled, “don’t worry, no one will see us here and think that we’re friends.”

you let out a quiet chuckle as you realized that he was talking about the quip you’ve told him.

it was silent. not one of you spoke. harry thought that it would be better if he didn’t say anything yet, whilst you were still thinking of something to say.

“harry,” you whispered, he tilted his head towards you, “yeah?”

“do…” you gulped, “do you think i’m pathetic and undeserving of love?”

harry looked at you incredulously, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. was his ears deceiving him? he knew that you were serious about your question when you just stared at him, tears still welling in your eyes.

“no, no,” he shook his head, “i don’t think you’re pathetic, and i think you deserve all the love in the world, darling,”

he didn’t know where the pet name came from, it just slipped. he looked away, feeling the heat rush up his cheeks. you, on the other hand, despite feeling horrible, felt a flutter in your stomache.

“no? even after i’ve been a wanker towards you in the past 5 years?”

he shook his head, “although, i still haven’t the slightest idea why we ever started quarreling, y’know.”

and so, you’ve told him all about your attempts on being friends with him, how he’d cut you off and leave, how you’ve been envious of him, you told him about your encounter with draco (“git,” he said). you told him everything. it wasn’t necessary, you knew, but you also told him all about your past. you cried everything out. you cried the pain you felt, you cried about the issues you’ve developed, you cried about how many families didn’t want you, you’ve cried for feeling unloved.

and he listened, he brought you into his arms and let you cry onto his shoulder. he felt bad, of course, as he didn’t know that you were the girl he had neglected, but he’s here now, and he’ll always be.

“look, y/n, we obviously had a bad start, and i apologize for returning the same energy, but i’d be willing to start over,” he stopped momentarily, “if that’s alright with you, that is?”

you let yourself smile softly, “yeah, i’d love that.”

he carefully removed you from his arms, making you cross-legged and face-to-face.

“hi, i’m harry, harry potter, nice to meet you,” he offered you a hand to shake.

you took it and intertwined it with yours instead of shaking it, “hi harry, i’m y/n, and i… fancy you very much,”

harry looked taken aback, and for a moment, you got scared. what if he doesn’t like you back? merlin, you just started to get along, and now it would be awkw—

“you fancy me?”

you rolled your eyes, opting to reply with a sarcastic comeback, “i know it’s so hard to believe, can’t really believe myself either.”

we just stared at each other before bursting into laughter. as soon as it died down, you now noticed how closed your proximity is. if you leaned any closer, your lips would touch.

“can i kiss you?” he whispered. not trusting your ability to speak, you just nodded.

the kiss was, to say the least, blissful. you wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you closer, it was uncomfortable as the both of you were sitting, but none of you minded. the only thing that was on the both of your minds was how you’ve been missing out so much.

you ran a hand in his cluster of black hair, making him groan. the both of you smiled softly between the kiss before pulling away slowly, eyes still closed as you appreciated the moment you’re sharing.

“d‘you normally kiss girls without telling them that you like them back? or is this just a… spur of the moment thing?” you whispered, a smile spreading across your face.

harry let out a chuckle, content as to where he is right now, “i fancy you, too, don’t worry.”

you shifted your position so both of you were staring at the sight, your head leaning on harry’s shoulder, his on top of yours with your fingers intertwined.

hermione and ron were bickering as usual when george suddenly noticed a certain couple walking together, “alright, freddie! pay up,”

fred had his eyebrows furrowed as he turned around and caught the sight of the two of you holding hands. no bickering. no fighting. just smiles and loving glances.

he grumbled, giving 2 galleons each to george, ron, and surprisingly, hermione.

“you guys were betting on us?” you asked

“didn’t think harry’d have the capability to ask you out,” he said, before turning his head towards the y/h table, “oi, stoneheart, here’s your two galleons.”

you huffed in amusement as you watched your friend walk towards you and grab the money from fred.

“seriously?” you asked her, crossing your arms.

“what? i’d known you two’d get together somehow, and now look, i’m two galleons richer.” she smiled, making everyone laugh.

harry kissed your forehead as he sat down, dragging you along with him. who knew being rivals with the chosen one would lead you to where you were now.

i guess it really was more than just a stupid rivalry.

general taglist: @daltonacademia @inks-and-jinx @weasleyh0e @oldschoolkiddo @accioweaslcy @inglourious-imagines (join my taglist !) @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

harry potter taglist: @blessednereid @oldschoolkiddo

[spinchip]

The Skirt

Pairings: background jaya Wordcount: 3700 Warnings: ask to tag Summary: Zane gets caught admiring a skirt at the store, but he knows the rules. Boys aren’t allowed to wear that stuff... right?

It’s a sweet, simple sort of thing, where it lays across the mannequins thighs. It’s a high waisted skirt in pale pink, long pleats that fold nicely. It’s paired with a tight white long sleeve shirt tucked in, and a gaudy hot-pink trench coat, and a pair of beige booties. The outfit is nice- the jacket a little much for his own personal taste, but cute in it’s own way. He glances down at his own hips and back up, imagining how the skirt would look against his skin. He reaches out and touches along the bottom of it, feeling the smooth fibers, wondering not-seriously if they had it in his size- not that he would buy it. Not that he should even be thinking about buying it, or how it might look on, or how it might feel-

Nya rounds the corner of the aisle he’d lost himself in.

Zane jumps away from the fabric as if it’d bitten him, nearly knocking over a rack of expensive sunglasses, a hot flush of shame crawling up his throat. He clenches his hands at his side and tries to play it off by switching focus to a pair of aviators with black frames. He can see Nya as she wanders up in the reflection from the lenses, looking between him and the mannequin’s outfit he’d been examining, an inquisitive tilt to her lips.

“Zane? Do you… like this?” She reaches up to smooth out the pleats of the skirt, ruffled by his own hands.

“No.” He answers right away, not giving an inch. He fumbles to pick up a pair of sunglasses just to be doing something with his hands, and doesn’t say anything more. He knows he’s tense, but he can’t help it.

“I don’t know. I think it’s kinda cute.” She hums.

It’s… a trap, or something. Zane can’t figure out how she's trying to box him in, and it’s making him anxious, “You should buy it if you like it.” He tries, setting the glasses back with firm hands, tracing the frames of another pair.

“I don’t think the pink would match my complexion,” there’s a pause, then she tries, “It would look really good on you-”

“I do not like it.” He cuts her off, lacing his voice with steel, shoulders hunching. He strides away from her without glancing back, he doesn’t want to see the look on her face, he doesn’t want to know if she was laughing at him. She’d laughed at him before, in his pink apron, and she'd called him cute then too.

Her voice had been filled with cruel edged mirth, “He’d looked so cute in it!” as he retreats from their food fight, an unfamiliar feeling he’s learned was embarrassment welling up in his chest, making his processor hot. He threw that stupid apron away. He announced his hatred towards pink over and over again. He didn’t need to lose all his progress with a moment of weakness.

He did not like how it felt when his friends laughed at him.

The others are trailing around the store at their own pace, and Zane is lucky only Nya caught him- and even then, he has plausible deniability. Except now she’s lingering around him, he can see her out of the corner of his eye, so he sticks strictly to the mens section- folding a pair of jeans over his arm and a pale blue turtle-neck he thought would go with his eyes. He doesn’t even think about looking at the lavender button up at the end of the rack- he’d learned over the years. Lavender and pastel colors, they were just as bad as pink, even if it was in the mens section, or gender neutral. Sometimes he worries about the light blues he tended to favor, but any blue was okay all the time, probably. They hadn’t made fun of him yet.

He’s looking through a pile of joggers when Nya calls out, “Zane!”

She catches his attention and Jay and Cole as well, holding up a white dress from the rack. It’s a beautiful summer dress, white straps lined with lace leading into a sweetheart neckline, eye closures down the center before it breaks into a delicate and flowy trumpet skirt, “Isn’t this pretty?” She asks, smiling encouragingly.

It is. If you had asked him what kind of dress he’d like to wear, he would be thinking of this dress while he told you none at all.

She’s making fun of him.

He wilts a little, drawing in on himself, and swallows past the painful lump in his throat, “I suppose.” He grits out.

“Hey, why not ask me?” Jay pipes up, “I’m your boyfriend.”

Nya jumps, as if Jay’s presence in the conversation was a surprise.

“It is pretty,” Cole comments, squinting at it from the tank tops he’d been pawing through, “Not really your style, though.”

Nya shakes her head and opens her mouth, “No, I-” She stalls, glancing at Zane- who’s looking increasingly upset, “I was thinking about trying something new...” she trails off.

Jay meanders over, “Well, you should probably get a different size. This is way too big.” He comments, looking it over.

“Yeah… right.” Nya says, and Zane slips away from them quietly.

-

When he gets back to his room, he sets his bags from the mall on the bed and starts to pull out his new clothes. Nya had let it go, in the end, and hadn’t teased him about his slip up after the dress thing, so the rest of the trip had been nice. They’d stopped at the food court for lunch and spent some time in the skateboard shop so kai could buy some new wheels, and then an hour and a half goofing around at the arcade before they’d called it a day.

Zane folded his new pants and tucked them into the dresser, reaching blindly into his bag while thinking about what to make for dinner.

All thoughts of food vanish from his head when he pulls out the pale pink skirt he’d been admiring.

He drops it and jerks his hands back to his chest, spinning around as if to catch Nya jump out from behind a potted plant and shout aha! Caught ya! ...but no one is there. He’s alone. He approaches the offending article of clothing cautiously, digging his receipt out from his bag while already certain he won’t see the skirt listed there. Nya must have bought it and slipped it in with his things, there’s no other explanation. It’s his size. Why? Is there a… a joke here? What is Zane not getting?

He should take it back to her and let her return it, probably. He picks it up and tosses it in the trashcan next to his desk instead, and puts away the rest of his clothes with hands he makes sure don’t shake. He doesn’t entertain the idea of trying it on. Pink and lavender weren’t allowed, skirts- skirts were worse. A pink skirt… he shakes his head, hanging up a new turtle neck, and leaves the skirt behind in the darkness of his room.

Nya sits up a little straighter when he comes into the living room, “How was… putting away your clothes?” She finishes clunky, fishing for his reaction to her prank.

“Fine.” He says without breaking stride, crossing into the kitchen and plucking his plain white apron up off the hook, sliding it over his head and getting to work.

Except, even as he chops onions and serves dinner and eats with his friends, even as they play video games and watch a movie, he can’t stop thinking about the skirt. It’s there, in the back of his mind- he’d always liked skirts, thought they were pretty and sweet. He used to dream about buying nice skirts and dresses when he could afford it, different kinds for different occasions like maxi dresses and pencil skirts, but this was before he knew it was silly and laughable. Before it was wrong.

When the night finally comes to a close, and he retires back to his room, he makes a bee line for his trashcan and delicately pulls the skirt out. He sets it on his bed and pats out the wrinkles, appreciating the craftsmanship.

He locks the door and undresses, sliding the skirt over his hips. He zips it in place and takes a step towards the mirror before he hesitates, throwing off his blue hoodie and digging up a tighter white turtleneck. It’s the closest thing he has to the outfit the mannequin was wearing that he’d liked so much. He smooths down the pleats, playing with the edge- something tight and uncomfortable in his chest loosens, and he breathes easier. It’s nice. It feels… like he always thought it would.

He steps in front of the mirror. He fiddles with the cuffs of his sweater, smiling at his reflection. He looked good, the skirt fits perfectly. He poses even though it makes him feel a little immature, striking several different stances, turning around to see all the angles. He’s got the perfect set of shoes to pair with this-

He stops halfway to his closet, standing in the middle of his room wearing a skirt he loves, reality rushing back.

He takes the skirt off, pulling on a pair of pajama pants, and folds it nice and neatly. He unlocks his door and walks across the monastery to Nyas bedroom, knocking politely. There’s a long pause before he can hear her footsteps on the hardwood. The door opens and she squints at the hallway light, blinking up groggily at Zane, “Huh?” She quips eloquently.

He holds the skirt out and drops it, she fumbles to catch it, “Return it.” he tells her, “I do not want it.”

She blinks, her sleep addled mind processing before it connects, “Zane,” She shakes her head, holding it out, “It’s yours, I saw you looking at it- it’s a nice skirt, it would look nice on you.”

He refrains from saying it does. He frowns hard, he doesn’t get it- she sounds so sincere, but he knows the rules, “I do not understand the joke. Am I supposed to wear this so you may laugh at me?”

Nya looks lost, “Laugh?”

“Like my pink apron.” He explains, huddling into himself, “Except this is worse.”

Understanding lights up her face with shame and sadness, “Zane… I-”

“Return it.” He insists, pushing the skirt back towards her, and then hesitates, “Please. Do not tell the others.”

He takes a step back and nods, turning away and bidding a hasty retreat. When he gets back to his room he stubbornly refuses to think about how freeing it was, how good it felt. He stamps down any longing as he crawls into bed, and falls asleep most certainly not filled with regret.

-

The following morning, Nya slinks into the kitchen as Zane and Kai are putting together breakfast looking like a kicked puppy. She keeps throwing inconspicuous sad eyes at Zane that he’s stubbornly refusing to acknowledge, but she thankfully doesn’t let the others catch on or else she might be forced to tell them what was bothering her.

After breakfast, she offers to help Zane with the dishes, and meets his “I do not require assistance,” With polite insistence, where she ends up washing as he dries and puts them away.

It isn’t until they’re nearly done that she organizes her thought’s enough to turn to him as he puts away the final stack of plates and says, “I think you should keep the skirt.”

He feels himself grow tense, closing the cupboard slowly before he looks at her, turning around to face her and scrutinizing her expression hard. He tries to dissect her intentions, tries to figure out why she’s saying this- he knew Nya had joined in on the teasing before, but he didn’t think she would push so hard. All his previous data suggests she doesn’t have a cruel streak like this in her, but she’s been keeping the joke going hard.

He entertains the idea that she really is being sincere, but that doesn’t make sense either, because there were rules. Zane had to figure them out fast when he was younger and newly exposed to the world- You have to make eye contact when conversing with people to be respectful, asking for explanations to jokes ruins the fun, and boys should never wear girl clothes. If you broke the rules, you were weird, and people laughed at you, and they made fun of you.

“No thank you.” He says stiffly, turning away and rinsing out the sink, “I do not like it.”

She looks miserable, “I’m sorry we laughed.”

He shakes his head and doesn’t respond, the conflicting information making his head hurt, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

-

A week later, the team has another rare day off. They’d set aside the day to go to the park, and Zane was looking forward to it. He’d spent the previous day in between patrols picking up ingredients to pack the perfect picnic. Cole throws open the door to the kitchen as Zane finishes packing up his basket, hauling a large cooler behind him.

“Hey frosty!” He greets, popping the lid on the cooler and fishing out waters and juice from the fridge, “Aren’t you gonna be hot dressed like that?” He comments.

Zane glances down at his jeans and t-shirt in comparison to Cole’s tanktop and shorts combo, “I am the master of Ice.” He points out, “I don’t get hot.”

Cole concedes his point with a dip of his head, “Speaking of master of ice, can I get a little help with keeping the drinks cool?”

Zane nods, waving a hand over the cooler and packing the drinks with snow and ice. Cole thanks him as Zane hefts up his basket, the two meeting the rest of their team on the deck of the bounty. Nya perks up as they come out on deck, and steps aside so the two can see their teammates.

Jay already looks overheated, miserably melting under the sun. Lloyd seems unbothered, dressed in a sleeveless hoodie and shorts. Kai basks in the sun, smiling brilliantly, wearing a t-shirt and…

Zanes processor stutters, “Are you wearing a skirt?” He asks neutrally, blinking down at Kai’s maroon pleats.

“Yeah,” Kai glances down at the fabric, “Nya gave it to me, it doesn’t fit her anymore. Isn’t it cute?”

Zane has no idea how to respond, so Cole beats him to it, “Looks good, dude, but how are we supposed to play frisbee?”

“I got shorts on underneath so I don't accidentally flash anyone.” Kai waves his hand dismissively, and no one else comments on the wrongness of the outfit.

Tentatively, Zane says, “You… like to wear skirts?”

Kai frowns, mistaking the hesitance for judgement, “Is that a problem for you?”

Zane looks away, “Not at all.” He says, confusion making his voice stiff, missing the way the others glance at his tone of voice disapprovingly.

They go to the park, and Zane can’t stop looking at Kais skirt. He finds himself frowning at the other man more than once, shaking the confusion out of his head and trying to ignore it. Did it… really not matter that Kai was wearing a skirt? Cole had complimented him, and Jay hadn’t said anything against it either. He finds himself not joining in on the frisbee game most of the time, focusing on getting the picnic set up to hide how he was too mixed up to focus on the sport. Soon enough, the others wrap up their game and join Zane on the blanket Nya had packed.

They eat and chat idly, and Kai sighs in content after he’s finished, sitting back, “That was amazing as always, Zane!”

Zane doesn’t look at him as he puts away his own half-eaten sandwich, “Thank you.” He says simply, lost in thought.

“Zane.” Jay says, and Zane glances up at him. He startles slightly at the way Jay is looking at him, pointedly disapproving, “Why are you being so weird about Kais skirt?”

“...Why aren’t you?” Zane asks genuinely, familiar hot shame crawling up his throat as his friends frown at him.

“Dude…” Kai mutters, clearly hurt, “Not cool.”

Shame, confusion, and guilt swallow Zane up for a long moment before it’s burned up by a flash of frustration. It didn’t make sense. They’d made fun of him years ago for his pink apron, laughed him out of the room and not bothered enough to see if he was alright afterwards because he broke the rules- he gets it, he wore the wrong clothes, it’s a funny joke… So why is Kai allowed it where Zane isn’t? Why is it funny when it’s Zane? Why does he get mocked while Kai gets defended? Defended when Zane hasn’t and wouldn’t ever make fun of him for his outfit-!

He stands up abruptly, “I’m going back to the bounty.” He announces before he turns on heel and all but runs from them.

“Zane!” Nya calls, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Let him go.” Cole says firmly, and Zane clenches his eyes shut as he boards the bounty.

His stomach churns with his tumultuous thoughts and he makes a bee line for the room they have in the bounty, crawling into his bunk bed and curling into a ball. He stares miserably at the wooden walls, thinking about too many different things.

He misses his pink apron.

He didn’t think it was funny when he saw Kai in that skirt. He thought he looked nice...

Why did they laugh at him?

-

He wakes up at the sound of quiet voices, disoriented for a moment- he didn’t remember falling asleep. He makes his way out of bed slowly, the room dark, and blinks against the harsh hallway light as he steps out of their bedroom. He rubs sleep out of his optics as they adjust to the change in atmosphere, making his way to the living room.

He stops in the doorway, looking in at his friends. Kai is still wearing his skirt, laying across the recliner sideways, his legs thrown over the edge. The others are in various states around the living room, laying on the couch or the floor asa movie plays unwatched on the TV screen, the quiet sounds what lured Zane here in the first place.

Zane’s stomach plummets as he remembers the hurt look on Kai’s face at lunch. He didn’t want to make Kai feel like he did, he didn’t want him to feel laughed at, “Kai?” He says from the doorway.

The room reacts to his voice, everyone immediately sitting up to peer at him. Jay's head poked over the back of the couch along with Coles, and Nya and Lloyd craned their heads around the couch from the floor.

“Hey, Zane…” Kai says, sitting properly in the chair.

“I want to apologize.” Zane says quietly, “I really have no issue with you wearing what you like. I am sorry I acted so oddly.”

Kai fiddles with the edge of the skirt, “It’s okay… I know.” He says just as soft, “I think we all owe you an apology too.”

Zane tilts his head in confusion, stepping into the room a little more.

Jay nods, “Yeah, Zane, we’re sorry.” He says sincerely, “We acted like total jerks about your apron.”

“My apron…” Zane’s eyes flicker to Nya, who ducks her head a little at how she obviously snitched.

“Nya told us what was bothering you, and we feel really bad about it.” Cole agrees, “We were stupid and mean. There’s nothing wrong with wearing pink.”

“Or skirts.” Kai pipes up, “I’m sorry we hurt you.”

“If you want to wear that stuff,” Lloyd adds, “No one will laugh.”

Zane blinks at the way his eyes water dangerously, looking down at the floor, “It is not… wrong?”

“No.” Kai says firmly, “We were wrong, not you. Wear what makes you happy, and we’ll be on your side.”

Zane swallows and thinks about how much he’d loved the pink skirt, how pretty he’d felt with it on, “I accept your apology.” He says with a small smile, “Thank you.”

Nya grins and with a wink says, “I think i have something that belongs to you, then.” She stands, “But first… group hug?”

Smiling, Zane holds up his arms, and the others converge on him. He hugs them back tightly, smile growing wider as he sighs happily. The frustration and hurt sliding off his shoulders makes him feel so light, and a barrier he hadn’t realized he’d raised falls to pieces.

He couldn’t wait for their next off day.

-

Which comes sooner than he expects. It’s rare to get out of patrol so often, but Lloyd insisted they make up for their slightly disasterous park trip only a few days later. Ninjago is thankfully not in terrible danger, so they decide to head to Mega Monster Amusement Park for the day- and Zane is half certain Sensei Wu allows it only because he’s craving funnel cake.

They’re supposed to leave soon, and Zane is nearly ready. He slips on a pair of white boots and laces them up, standing up and admiring his outfit in his mirror. He’s got on a loose white sweater tucked into the waistband of his pink skirt, and he adjusts it one last time before nodding in satisfaction, smiling genuinely at his reflection.

He does a little twirl because he can’t help himself before he throws open the door to his room and makes his way to the deck of the bounty, smiling as the skirt bounces and flows with every step.

He’s the last to arrive, the others all waiting for him. To his pleasant surprise, there’s no flash of anxiety as he trots over- they won’t laugh. He knows they won’t.

Nya lights up when she sees him, “Zane’s here!”

Zane happiness seems to be contagious, the others all perking up at the sight of him.

“You look really nice.” Kai compliments when he gets close, and Zane smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Yeah, that’s a nice color on you.” Cole comments.

Jay nods in agreement, “Zane looks really good, yes! Can we go to the amusement park already?”

Zane laughs, bubbly and light, “Thank you all! Jay’s right, let us go have some fun.”

As they disembark the bounty, Zane makes eye contact with Nya, and smiles softly at her. She grins in return, bumping shoulders with him, and they catch up with the others.