#also ignore how messy it is i just cleaned up the sketch a bit

[wetcatschwartzy]

happy halloween 🐟🦪

[ruckis--rookie]

Okay so I've seen the alleged gen 6 mons that we didn't get enough times for me to want to talk about it and... noooo. I'm sorry but I don't buy it.

I say that for several reasons. One, I know there's been a handful of people trying to make their own fake leaks to hop onto the hype train. But there are a few factors that make it feel a little off to me.

The main one being that most of those images are reference images. Not sketches or concepts, references. They're colored, cleaned up, and ready to go. On top of that their designs are incredibly busy, too, so to have a ref image ready to go for such detailed pokemon means they had to get the thumbs up. There also should have been less detailed sketches to go with it to show the conceptual process.

So to have something with that amount of attention put in and detail be cut and not included in the game at all feels like bs to me. Don't even say AZ's Floette or Diancie/Volcanion. The AZ's Floette is a reskin and the latter two had a movie.

At least in terms of polished concept art the cacturne, as much as I am skeptical and unsure, is a little bit more believable. I say that with experience as an artist. It is MUCH easier to bullshit a design by smearing paint on one layer and hoping something sticks. That and I believe Poken Tournament was a thing at the time and the style kinda gives me that vibe.

I've seen the real ref sheets that were leaked of pokemon before they were released and... I can't explain it but something feels off? No, what it feels like is someone who knows how to do fakemon designs wanted to redesign aromatisse and tried to pass off their designs as a leak. No shade to aromatisse in particular I actually take no issue with it, I just feel like not turning it into a flamingo was such a missed opportunity.

Perhaps the last thing is that all of those designs seem too good to be true. I refuse to believe they'd trash something so good looking so late in development. You can't even say "but all the other beta pokemon" because those all either looked unfinished and messy or like crap compared to the final. Those weren't completely finished and clean sketches like the gen 6 "beta leaks" are.

But if it is somehow true and there's definitive evidence, which for me I feel like would have to come straight from the horses mouth, ignore everything I just said while I put my foot in my mouth. This is all just speculation on my part anyway

[thesolarangel]

A touch of cinnamon and spice

Chapter 4

summary: Our boys awkwardly talk about their feelings.

3.569 words · Rated: EXPLICIT · Please read the updated tags on AO3!

Notes: Sorry, I totally forgot to mention this before: Robin and Steve are roommates! Also, Steve doesn’t know what D&D is! For the sake of this fic I will ignore the fact that they normally wouldn’t have their own bathroom at their dorm room. In case you didn’t know: putting a sock on the outer doorknob of a room means “Don’t come in, we’re doing spicy stuff!”

Read on AO3 here

Chapter 4 · November 6th 1987 

“Hey, I’m back!”

Jonathan shut the door and threw his backpack onto his bed.

“Hmm.” Eddie made a noise of acknowledgment but didn’t look up from his book. Not even his favorite story had managed to cheer him up, even though he had loved reading “The Hobbit” since he was a kid. Instead, he was staring at the sketch he had made of Steve, which he had kept between the pages… 

“Listen, you should come to the game with me.” Jonathan sounded determined. 

“Huh?” Eddie turned his head to see if Jonathan was joking. Football? Really? He wasn’t a fan of sports and Jonathan knew that.

“I just think some fresh air would be good for you… And to focus your mind on something else for a change…” Jonathan shrugged. 

Eddie frowned. It hadn’t even been a whole week since the halloween party. He had a hard time shaking off the memory of the kiss. Steve’s soft lips against his own and the fireworks in his chest… And the dreadful scene that unfolded in front of him afterward.

Since then, Eddie had run into Steve a few times in the halls or the cafeteria. He had tried to talk to him, but Eddie had bolted every single time. He had taken notice of Steve’s worried face, but he wasn’t interested in what he had to say. Eddie was still hurting and it was embarrassing. He shouldn’t care so much about a guy he kissed once. So he chose to mope about it in his dorm room and avoid leaving whenever he could.

“I gotta take some pictures for the school paper”, Jonathan went on as he prepared his camera with a new film, cleaned the lens, and stuck it into his camera bag. “You could tag along?”

“Ugh, alright.” Eddie sighed as he got up from his bed and stretched his back. “I guess I don’t have anything better to do anyway.”

…

The moment he stepped outside, Eddie regretted it. He had only thrown his leather jacket over his hoodie when he had left the dorm.

It had been an especially uncomfortable November day. The weather was grim and cold, large dark gray clouds were covering the sky. He pulled the hood over his unruly hair which helped a bit to keep the wind from his neck and face.

Unsure about how this could change his already miserable mood, Eddie grumpily accompanied Jonathan to the football field.

Jonathan took his place at the side of the field, all the way down the bleachers whereas Eddie was walking up a few steps, looking for a free seat. Despite the weather, it was very crowded since it was the last game of the season. 

“Hey, Eddie!” A familiar voice called his name.

Oh no.

Equipped with a dark blue coat and a burgundy scarf, Steve was sitting a few rows ahead. He was giving Eddie a small reluctant smile and offered the free seat beside him. His usually neatly styled hair was a little messy, due to the relentless fall wind. 

Eddie felt his shoulders tense up.

Just be casual, Munson. Like he didn’t consume your thoughts for the last few weeks.

“Hey,” Eddie said as his cheeks blushed slightly with embarrassment. He sat down, hands in his pockets, pretending to follow the game to avoid Steve’s view. Their college’s team had just scored a touchdown and everyone was cheering around them. Colorful banners and big foam fingers flew through the air as they shouted their team’s anthem.

After a while, Steve spoke up carefully: “Um, so I wanted to ask you… why did you leave the party so suddenly?”

Here we go.

“You seemed busy flirting with someone else, so I thought it was better if I left,” Eddie answered dryly. His shoulders felt tight as he waited for the impending rejection. 

“I wasn’t flirting though.” 

“Huh?” Eddie raised his eyebrows at him.

“I was catching up with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. And when you were gone, I was so confused.” Steve said softly. “I was genuinely looking forward to meeting up with you again…” 

“Oh…” Something inside Eddie began to stir with hope. This was not what he had expected. 

Steve awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “I, um… I thought we had a moment that night.” And now it was him blushing and not looking at Eddie. “Sparks, fireworks, whatever you wanna call it…”

Eddie stared at his feet, letting his long curls fall into his face, hopefully concealing his flushed cheeks. He had to wrap his head around what he had just heard, but Steve sounded honest. After all, he could have just ignored Eddie and moved on, but here he was, talking to him, clarifying what had happened. It had all been a big misunderstanding.

“We did have a moment…” He glanced over at Steve, lips curling into a soft smile.

“So… are we good?” Steve asked, playfully bumping his shoulder into Eddie’s.

“We’re good, Stevie.” Eddie let out a huffed laugh. He sat upright again, relief flooding his body and he felt his shoulders relaxing. “Damn, now I wish I had stayed.”

“There’s always next time if you want.” Steve gave him a charming smile and their eyes locked.

One day Eddie’s heart was gonna jump out of his chest at how beautiful Steve was. He looked at him with kind eyes and this stupid grin on his face. 

What did I get myself into… he’s so pretty…

…

They watched together as Steve made a few comments about the course of the game. Eddie nodded along, pretending to understand the football lingo, but it gave him an excuse to look at Steve’s handsome face.

“So, how come Robin isn’t with you? The two of you seemed pretty inseparable.” Eddie asked, eager to find out more about Steve’s life.

“She’s currently at our dorm with her girlfriend, Nancy, the girl that you saw at the party,” Steve explained. “Also full disclosure, Nancy and I used to date in high school, but that didn’t work out, and now we’re friends.”

Their team scored another goal and the audience around them roared. 

“Honestly I have no idea what’s going on down there!” Eddie chuckled and gestured towards the field.

“Then why are you still here?” Steve laughed.

“It’s the excellent company for me, Stevie” Eddie smirked.

…

Eddie felt a few raindrops fall onto his nose and cheeks and he looked up at the sky. It had started to drizzle, but the dark clouds in the distance looked very ominous.

Those who were thoughtful enough to bring umbrellas and raincoats were fine, but Eddie groaned as his jeans and hood slowly got drenched.

What started as a light shower that was easy to handle, quickly developed into massive rainfall with heavy gusts of wind. Down on the field, the players kept slipping and losing their balance on the soaked lawn due to poor visibility from the rain and wind. 

At first, the announcer reported that they were keeping the game going, hoping the rain would subside soon. But with time, the injuries kept piling up and several players of each team had to be taken off the field to be treated by the paramedics. The breaking point was when one of the quarterbacks had hurt his ankle so badly, they believed it to be broken.

Once again, the announcer’s voice roared from the speakers: “That’s it, folks, we’re gonna have to pick this up another time! Please get inside safely and don’t rush!”

Steve nudged Eddie in the side: “Let’s go!”

…

Back inside, Eddie took off his hood and rubbed his hands together. He was completely drenched and freezing and Steve didn’t seem to have gotten away any better despite his winter coat.

Steve looked like a sad, wet puppy: Big eyes, hair deflated, wet strands hanging in his face, rain dripping from the tip of his nose.

“Are you okay?” Eddie chuckled, the sight that Steve presented was just too cute.

“I can’t go back to my dorm…” Steve let out a groan of frustration.

“Why not?”

“Robin has invited Nancy over to our room.” He glanced over at Eddie. “We have a deal: I watch the game, they can have some alone time…” 

“Ooh.” 

Steve looked at his watch. “I have like 2 more hours to kill at least”, he said with a frown.

“You can come to my dorm”, Eddie offered. “I can help you warm up”, he added with a cheeky smirk.

“You’re ridiculous”, Steve laughed but followed Eddie to his dorm room.

…

Eddie lent Steve some sweatpants, a faded Metallica shirt and showed him to the bathroom where he could get changed.

Meanwhile, he threw his own wet clothes on the radiator, slipped into comfy pajama pants, a Black Sabbath shirt, and then frantically tried to clean up the place. Once he was done, it was still a mess, but he hoped Steve wouldn’t pay much attention to it.

“Thanks for the change of clothes, I already feel so much better”, Steve said, stepping out of the bathroom. He was rubbing his hair dry with a towel which made the already very small shirt ride up at his waist and expose a gorgeous dark trail of hair from his bellybutton to the rim of the sweatpants. 

“No problem…” Eddie’s voice trailed off as he glanced at Steve’s exposed skin and the way his shirt stretched over his pecs and biceps. 

Steve put both hands on his hips and let his gaze wander around Eddie’s side of the room. Posters of his favorite bands, like Metallica, Judas Priest and DIO, magazine cutouts and a few concert tickets were plastered all over the wall. A large banner that said CORRODED COFFIN in black and red distorted letters had been hung in the middle. An acoustic guitar was placed next to the TV at the foot of his bed.

“Corroded Coffin is your band, right?” Steve asked and pointed to the banner.

“Yeah“, Eddie answered, delighted that he remembered the name. 

“I’d love to hear you guys play someday.”

“I’m gonna convert you to a true metal fan, just so you know.”

“We’ll see about that”, Steve laughed.

Next, he wandered over to Eddie’s cluttered desk in the corner. It was covered with drawings, weirdly shaped dice, pencils and books. He picked up one of his books and raised an eyebrow.

“Dungeons and Dragons, huh? Sounds kinky…”

Eddie snorted. “Right…” 

Steve sat down on Eddie’s bed, stretched out his legs and put the towel around his neck.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Eddie asked. He was happy to see that Steve had already made himself comfortable on his bed. “Here”, he took his blanket and threw it over Steve’s legs.

“Thanks. Do you have Star Wars?”

Eddie’s face lit up, excited that Steve was a fan, too. He went over to his stack of VHS tapes next to the TV. “Sure, which one do you wanna watch?”

“The one with the teddy bears,” Steve replied with a confident grin.

“Really, Steve?” Eddie rolled his eyes at him.

“What?” Steve shrugged. 

“You’re lucky, you’re cute”, Eddie commented while looking for the right tape.

The characteristic Star Wars intro blared from the speakers. The bright yellow writing on the starry sky slowly floated over the screen, introducing the premise of the story. Eddie sat down on the bed next to Steve, who, without saying a word, lifted the blanket and Eddie snuck under it with him.

Smiling to himself, Eddie felt himself buzzing with excitement on the inside. He was ready to take it slow, but he also really wanted to kiss Steve again… 

Throughout the movie, Steve kept asking random questions like “Who’s that old guy again?” and commented “I have no idea what’s going on…” when the rebels around Han, Leia and Luke met up to discuss their plan to bring down the empire.

“I thought you’ve seen this before?” Eddie laughed, but Steve just shrugged.

Eddie shifted in his seat and sneakily scooted a little closer to Steve, snuggling against his side. They were practically cuddling by now and Eddie felt the energy shifting slightly as Steve leaned into the touch. 

“Han Solo is so hot”, Steve remarked about thirty minutes into the movie. 

“Dark cheeky rebels do it for you then, huh, Stevie?” Eddie teased.

“Maybe”, Steve whispered and suddenly there was a broad hand on Eddie’s thigh, giving it a little squeeze. His heart started beating faster. They were so close… Breathing in Steve’s wonderful sweet scent and gazing deep into his longing eyes made Eddie feel warm all over. 

Steve’s gaze dropped to his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Next time sure is here faster than I thought”, Eddie gave him a cocky grin.

“Shut up”, Steve laughed and pulled him into a soft kiss. 

The way Steve kissed him was exhilarating, Eddie felt like fireworks were bursting in his chest. He tilted his head and kissed him back impatiently while tugging on his waist to get him to come closer. Steve climbed into Eddie’s lap, both of his legs on either side of Eddie’s. He was met with Eddie’s arms wrapping around him immediately. 

“For the record, it’s called Return of the Jedi...”, he mumbled between kisses.

“Hmm?” 

“The movie. Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi”

Steve looked at him confused and with kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks. “Is this your idea of making me swoon?” He asked with a huffed laugh.

Eddie grinned and sealed their mouths again. Steve’s fingers wandered into his hair and started drawing patterns into the nape of his neck, sending shivers over Eddie’s sensitive skin. 

They made out with the movie still playing behind them, neither of them paying attention. When Eddie playfully bit into Steve’s bottom lip, then licked over it apologetically, Steve suddenly let out a small moan. 

Eager to find out what other sweet sounds Steve would make, Eddie did it again, this time biting a little rougher. Steve let out another soft noise of pleasure.

“Eddie…”, he whispered and then his lips were on Eddie’s again, kissing him hungrily. “Eds… I really like you…” Steve said in a low voice, rolling his hips slowly in Eddie’s lap.

“Would be strange if you hated me since you’re in my lap and…” he teasingly grinded his hips upwards and Steve let out a choked whimper “...hard.”

“You don’t seem unaffected by this yourself…” Steve licked his lips and gazed at Eddie from under his long lashes. Experimentally, he drove his hips down harder.

“Stevie…” Eddie groaned and his hands moved to grip Steve’s hips, guiding his motions. 

“God, you’re so hot, why are you so hot…” Steve was almost slurring his words between kisses and driving his hips down into Eddie’s crotch.

Eddie answered by pulling Steve into a filthy kiss, greedily sliding his tongue inside his mouth, earning him another moan. His hand found its way under Steve’s, well, his t-shirt and brushed over his nipple. The lewd noise that Steve made went right to Eddie’s dick. Something hungry was building up in his belly, yearning for more.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” Eddie growled against Steve’s hot skin while kissing down his neck, licking and biting gently. “Lie down for me, okay?”

“Okay…” Steve let Eddie maneuver him until he was lying on his back, splayed out, letting his legs fall open for Eddie to fit snugly between them. But instead, Eddie got up.

“Hang on a second…” he said, grabbed one of his socks from the floor and put it on the outer doorknob of the room.

“Woah, you have high hopes”, Steve chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, Stevie, I’d say that’s entirely your fault, laid out like this on my bed, looking like a snack!” Eddie just shrugged and laid on top of Steve and kissed him again before he could say anything else about the sock on the door.

“I still wanted to tell you… at the party, hmm” Steve broke off mid-sentence as Eddie was attacking his neck with wet kisses. “You looked so hot… the eyeliner and no shirt, just the jacket… I couldn’t stop staring at you.” 

“You’re one to talk, I wanted to rip that tiny white shirt right off… that chest hair, lemme see, please?” Eddie was tugging at his shirt and Steve sat up so Eddie could take it off.

Eddie immediately buried his face in Steve’s beautiful chest hair. Steve was all broad and hairy, whereas Eddie was more on the lean side and just sported a few hairs on his own chest. Steve’s tanned skin was peppered with moles all over his torso like little kisses and Eddie was determined to find every single one and kiss it himself.

He let out a pleased sigh and began to trace the shape of Steve’s pecs and gently took his nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it, then the other one, making Steve squirm under his touch.

“Ahh oooh, Eds!” Steve bucked up his hips. 

Eddie came up again to kiss him and rubbed his crotch back against Steve’s whose hands flew to Eddie’s butt, squeezing, spurring him on to give him that delicious friction.

“Steve…” Eddie purred over him and propped himself up on his elbows, stroking with one hand through Steve’s hair that stood up messily from his forehead. “Stevie, baby” he whispered again to get his attention.

“Yeah?” Steve looked utterly ravaged, blinking up at Eddie, trying so hard to concentrate. Eddie knew he was close, he felt it and saw it in his gaze.

“As much as I’d love to mindlessly hump you, Stevie, these are my last clean pants. The ones you’re wearing and mine.”

Steve let out a small frustrated groan. “So what do you propose?”

“Good old-fashioned handjob?” Eddie suggested with a grin.

“I’m up for that” Steve smiled. “But first, take this off please, I wanna see you, too” he pulled on Eddie’s shirt and slid it over his head.

“You have more tattoos!” Steve’s eyes went wide as he traced the tattoo on Eddie’s chest with his fingers.

“I do,” Eddie chuckled. “Planning on getting more, too.”

“Hot…” Steve said in a low voice as he admired Eddie. He reached up to cup his jaw and dragged him down into another kiss.

Eddie helped Steve tug down his sweatpants and underwear as well as his own. He felt his excitement grow upon seeing Steve’s heavy cock again, this time hard and up close. 

His mouth began to water. Another time maybe…

“Here, let me”, Steve offered as he wrapped his broad hand over both of their shafts. Eddie moaned loudly when Steve began to slowly pump his hand, using their precum to ease the glide. 

“Steve… oh god”, Eddie rocked into his hand.

“Feels good?” Steve’s voice sounded rough and filthy. Eddie felt the blood rush through his veins.

“Yeah… you’re amazing” Eddie whimpered shakily. “I’m close, Stevie.”

Steve gently rubbed his thumb over the sensitive underside of his swollen cockhead, taking Eddie by surprise and with a sudden cry, he spilled across Steve’s stomach. Encouraged by this and Eddie’s wrecked noises, Steve moved his hand faster and soon he was shooting his own big load onto his tummy and watched it mix with Eddie’s.

Both of them were breathing heavily. Eddie bent down to give Steve a tender kiss. “I like you, too, you know… In case you didn’t know already.” Steve gave him a stunning smile, eyes gleaming, cheeks pink. Eddie peppered a few more kisses to the corner of his mouth and his cheeks. 

After cleaning themselves up, they cuddled up under the blanket again. They watched the rest of the movie while laughing, kissing, enjoying each other’s company and eventually Eddie asked: “Do you wanna stay here tonight?” 

Steve was sitting in his lap again, with his back to Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms around him. “Don’t you think Jonathan will be back at some point?” 

“I’m pretty sure he’ll just go over to Argyle’s and sleep there”, Eddie replied and gave him a suggestive look. “With the sock still on the door…”

“I guess I can stay then.” Steve smiled.

“Awesome! Let’s order some food and then… How about The Lost Boys next?” Eddie grinned.

…

Jonathan had been at the photo lab after the football game had been canceled and was now making his way back to the dorm. It was already dark out and he wanted nothing more than to lie down with a good book. As he approached his dorm, he noticed a white tennis sock hanging on the doorknob and he stopped in his tracks.

He did see Eddie and Steve sitting next to each other on the bleachers and he had hoped they’d talked things through. So hopefully it was them in there… talking.

He grinned to himself and turned around.

Jonathan knocked on the door, heart racing in his chest as he clutched his bag and waited.

The door swung open and Argyle, long dark hair flowing over his shoulders, stood in the doorframe. His face lit up once he saw it was Jonathan.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” Jonathan smiled shyly. “My dorm is occupied tonight, can I stay with you?”

“Absolutely, come on in!”

tag list: @starlady66 @fenharel-enaste @queenmeriadoc @elronds-pointy-ears @hbyrde36 @hammity-hammer @corrodedbisexual @spoookysix @rozzieroos @cranberrymoons

devider by @firefly-graphics

[koolkat9]

 I can’t draw backgrounds or feet, but ignoring that I’m really happy with it!

So in case people didn’t see my last post this is my GerEng Howl’s Moving Castle Au. 

Arthur as Howl because they’re both wizards and also I think Howl’s style fits and would look nice on Arthur. Plus both are overdramatic bitches (though in slightly different ways). 

Ludwig as Sophie because both can be insecure, throw themselves into their work. Plus, if anyone is going to clean that messy castle it’s Ludwig. Also I should mention that Ludwig’s hair is white here because Sophie’s is by the end of the film. 

Peter as Markl. I almost made Markl Alfred, but I figured Peter would make more sense for bonding with Ludwig and Alfred is techniqually older that Lud in canon based on country age. Plus, Peter is probably the only one out of Arthur’s younger siblings/kids that would actually be interested in learning magic. 

Now...The Witch of the Waste was a hard one. I was really close to making it Francis, but I felt another character fitted Francis much better especially in relation to Arthur. I ended up thinking Antonio because you know...Arthur and him are constantly fighting, but also Sp//uk is awesome so let’s make them a past relationship. Also, evil Toni is kind of great. I didn’t know if I wanted to age him like how the Witch of the Waste does or just make him look drained and tired, but then in his sketch I added a bit of wrinkles/grey hairs and I kind of preferred that idea. 

Francis as Calcifer (who in this image is that little spark thing) because even if they aren’t in a romantic relationship, Arthur and Francis always have to have some kind of close relationship. What could be closer then physically holding your bro’s heart and if you die so does your bro? Perfect dynamic for Francis and Arthur methinks.

I decided to make one of Ludwig’s canon dogs be the old dog. I specifically went with Aster because I like to think she’s the dog Ludwig has had the longest in canon. 

There are a few other character’s a I thought of but I’ve already talked about them in this post and they’ll probably get their own designs at some point so I’ll talk more about them then. 

Reference image below the cut because this got a little long lol

[crystalkleure]

Haha hey remember that post I made awhile back, speculating on what a bad idea it might be to fuse dead things in the godless Frankenstein fossil machine

Meet White. He is a reanimated corpse. Two of them, actually. Or more like 1.5. [And I whipped up this half-assed partial reference sheet in one night instead of sleeping, so don’t look too hard at the chickenscratch lineart and visible guidelines, and kindly ignore the total lack of shading as well as any other messy jankiness.]

White is a product of me wondering not only about what happens if you NecroFuse a human with a Pokemon, but also what happens if you make it even worse and specifically fuse that human with a Pokemon capable of mega evolution. Because canon seems to imply that mega evolving is at best deeply uncomfortable -- and at worst outright agonizing -- for whatever creature is going through it.

Character Lore under the cut. Lots of text:

White is one of actually multiple undead guys who got mashed together with bits of dead Pokemon. They’re science experiments, so they've got the dex numbers of the Pokemon they're spliced with tattooed on the backs of their necks, and those numbers were treated as their names In The Evil Science Lab.

In his Original Life, White [and some of his buddies] got gored to death by some escaped Horrible Fucking Monsters that were accidentally [...and then not-so-accidentally] created via Two Pokemon At Once In A Fossil Resurrection Machine, because hey, it is SUPER easy to think you got Just One Thing's Bones from an excavation dig but then later you realize that Some Of Those Bones were from something TOTALLY different that just died in the same place. It happens. So, some Fossil Scientist People accidentally resurrected an Abomination, realized they fucked up pretty fast...and then started wondering if they REALLY fucked up or if this is Cool, Actually. And then the team of Science People split into two Morality Factions, with one half being like “This is unethical as shit, we need to make sure this doesn't happen again because it's not natural so who knows how this poor fucked up creature is suffering” and the other, cooler half being like “WE NEED TO DO THIS AGAIN RIGHT NOW BECAUSE SCIENCE. IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES HOLY SHIT.”

Cooler group splits off from the Horrified Group With Morals, and they promptly use their Science Knowledge to Construct More Machines and Make More Monsters. Doesn't take too long for them to realize, however, that Abomination Pokemon are stupidly hard to control, because not only are they suffering, their masters obviously don't care for their wellbeing, so Revolt Inevitably Occurs and they escape to wreak havoc upon the nearest congregation of townspeople. They promptly maul some people to death at a nearby local rock concert, scientists chase after them to clean up the mess, realize “Oh Shit, Manslaughter Charges Impending”, and then realize...

Science Guy 1: “...Hey, what happens if you put a dead person in the fossil machine?”

Science Guy 2: “Hey, people probably listen better than Pokemon. We can, like, TALK to people.”

Science Guy 3: “Lads, I got a stellar idea just now. And we got plenty of Dead Guys to start with right here! Great way to hide the bodies too, probably.”

This goes approximately as well as you would expect, and precisely as ethically. A smashing success!

However, because they Fucking Died, the reanimated Newly-Monsterized dudes do not remember shit about who they were pre-resurrection. They're not technically even the same people, they’re more like clones. They've been remade. So, all they know now is Science Lab Life, and they have no initial attachment to eachother aside from "that other guy is also a Science Experiment Person just like me, so Same Hat @ Labrat Neighbour ig", in spite of several having been friends or even family prior to death. They also just...don’t know/remember things in general. They are fresh blank slates. And to a morally-bankrupt team of scientists, that’s perfect! They can train these guys to behave however they please!

...However, people might be People Instead Of Animals, meaning they can be Reasoned With And Manipulated And Coerced far better than animals due to their far better communication abilities with the Science People, but...there is Still A Problem in the sense that Holy Shit, A Person Can Only Take So Much. You can only treat someone as "Experiment [number]" for so long, blatantly putting no value on their life outside of The Value Of Scientific Research, in spite of literally basically needing to raise them like a normal child due to the Lack Of Memories issue. Eventually they're not gonna be able to take that anymore and they are gonna Fucking Leave, too. And they’re gonna be much harder to track down than the rampaging Pokemon were. Impossible, actually, once they’ve ripped out their tracking chips.

So then there's just these monster dudes, who don't actually know what they are because they weren't ever told anything more than necessary to get them to cooperate with Tests And Experiments, just Escaped Into Civilization and having NO idea how Anything works. Fun! Especially considering how, at first glance, these just look like Normal Dudes. Their monster bits either aren't apparent or just look like funky body modifications.

They've also got Science Things in them and they Don't Know What The Fuck Those Things Even Are. They've just got these little Devices in/on their chests, and they were never informed of the exact functions of them because there's no reason to explain to the experiment What Is Happening, just that the experiment needs to Hold Still and Cooperate and Now Do This, Now Do This, Now Do That, Good Job That's Enough For Today, etc.

Those devices contain both key stones and mega stones.

If you were a Mad Pokemon Scientist, you would most certainly be interested in the mega evolution phenomenon. What would YOU do if some of your Undead Fusion Experiments happened to be spliced with bits of Pokemon known to be capable of mega evolving? You’d kill two birds with one enigmatic set of stones, that’s what you’d do. Your Frankenstein Experiments can even TALK to you and tell you exactly what they are experiencing when you run tests on them! It’s perfect!

So, if a rock-bearing monster’s heart rate goes too high, part of the little device, which is a barrier between one type of rock and the other, opens up and Exposes One Rock To The Other Rock. Which exposes the monster to the Rock Energy Reaction. The greater the stress, the higher the dose. And I’m sure you can see the snowball effect that’s gonna create, at least the first time or two.

They were INTENDED to eventually be made to Physically Fight With Eachother to gauge the effects of The Rocks™️ when the Guys With The Rocks are under Stress and need to Do Some Self-Defense. The Science Squad was basically trying to suss out the Actual Purpose of mega evolution. Because mega evolution is weird -- it puts ENORMOUS stress on the body of whatever is undergoing it, so the hypothesis was that its true power is probably drawn out best via a perceived life-threatening situation, like it’s a type of hysterical strength, because what else would cause a need for that kind of ability. And aren’t ethics a bit overrated?

So, there’s our premise. White is just wandering around without any particular purpose outside of never ever going back to Science Hell, and he has no clue what the funny little doohickey buried in his chest does until it activates one day and absolutely fucks him up [...as well as everyone around him. Mega Absol radiate an Aura Of Sheer Terror that can literally scare people with weak hearts to death if they’re not careful.]

And now, some Miscellaneous Character Info:

The bit about Lots Of Death happening at a rock concert specifically was important. White was actually the vocalist of the band that was playing. He doesn’t remember that now, but he still loves music and has the same strong vocal cords. And THAT is important because White is partially an Absol now and Absol naturally learns Perish Song. These Fusion Monsters are absolutely capable of using Pokemon moves, though whether they’re aware of this is a different matter entirely. Imagine what happens when they end up tapping into those abilities accidentally.

That band was a relatively-unknown little local band. White was by no means anywhere near famous. Very few people even realized he was gone, and most of the ones who would have noticed also ended up Equally Unalive.

That black stuff between the belts on White’s arms is mesh. Like, stocking mesh. It gets Ripped The Fuck Apart when he goes Mega Mode and his arm fur gets Extra Spiky. Hence one stocking being a bit tattered in that reference pic. He frequently has to replace those things, they are fragile.

“How did White get his name if he doesn’t remember his original name and didn’t have a real name in the lab” I am glad you asked! Post-escape, he eventually encountered a situation where someone asked him what his name was, he bluntly told them “I don’t have one. I am #359.”, they said “Well That Is Not A Name, I need something proper to call you”, and he was just...Super Apathetic. So, the other person picked out the name “White” just based on the fact that White’s hair is white, and he just shrugged and rolled with it.

As you can see in my Incredibly Quick And Rough Sketches, the backs of White’s shirts are open to accommodate that huge amount of fur that bristles out into false wings when he goes Mega Mode. Because his Actual Normal Hair is relatively long and overlaps with that fur, it blends in with his Actual Normal Hair and doesn’t look too odd [when it’s down]. Probably mostly because nobody’s expecting it to be anything OTHER than Perfectly Normal Hair That Just Happens To Be Very Long.

White does not particularly like violence. White does not want to beat you up. He will, though, without a bit of hesitation, if there’s some logical reason he feels like it’s the most practical course of action. Being essentially raised by Cold, Emotionally-Sterile Scientists With No Care For The Wellbeing Other Living Beings uh, tends to affect a guy a little bit. White has a bit of an internal dilemma regarding “It would be efficient for me to just Harm This Other Person to defuse the current situation, because attempting nonviolence will be overall more risky somehow” vs. “Holy shit it feels bad when I hurt people. Why does it feel bad when I hurt people. Is it...SUPPOSED to feel bad when I hurt people?? No one ever felt bad for hurting me.” He Figures Out How Empathy Works Eventually. He is a good guy at heart. He is a Monotone Snarker, but not actually Cold or Malicious at all.

If an Absol can do it, White can probably do it. He has incredibly keen senses and a STRONG ability to Detect Impending Doom. He has exactly the amount of Supernatural Absol Powers you would expect. He is also stupidly physically strong, way more so than he appears to be.

White can’t punch people. Look at the fist he’s making in the pic, he’s doing it wrong. If you punch someone like that, you WILL break your own thumb. That’s not a Revving Up To Sock Someone pose, he’s just tense. He’s using his thumb as a buffer between his long-ass Sharp As Fuck claws and the flesh of his palm. If White tries to punch anybody, or just makes a proper fist at all, he will impale his own hand on his nails. Like, all the way through. He CAN slash straight through things like metal and bone with those claws, though.

White...is unsettling. Completely accidentally, and unknowingly. He just radiates an Aura Of Intimidation [...or Pressure], even when not in Mega Mode, that scales depending on his mood. Just being near him tends to put people and Pokemon on edge. Thus, he’s generally avoided.

The latter point is especially unfortunate, because White’s preferred method of Socializing and Bonding is to just kind of quietly hang out in the same room as whoever he is trying to Socialize and Bond with. He just wants to, like...chill out Near A Buddy and watch a movie and share a bag of chips or something. His social skills are predictably not good.

[alolowrites]

A Vision Come to Life

Summary: Every artist wants to bring their own paintings to life. Sero is no different after he becomes infatuated with you—a beautiful stranger who exists in his dreams. One night he sees your face and decides to paint you with all his heart.

Song: “Pintame” by Elvis Crespo

Author’s Note: I always had this story idea in my head after listening to this song. It was different, and I just had to write it out. Not sure why it took me forever to get it done. Probably because I don’t know much about painting and really did not want to make a fool out of myself (I’m sorry if something is wrong, I tried my best with the research 😭😭😭). 

On another note, this is my first story for Sero so yay! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.6K+

Sero felt alive again.

He rushed into his private art studio, nearly tripping over the blemished tarp covering the floor. Both sleeves hastily rolled up past his elbows. Sero swiveled nonstop and panicked when he couldn’t find the cart filled with the art supplies. Ah, it was at the far corner; he wheeled it closer to the center. Precious time was fleeting, and so was the inspiration that came to his head just now.  

After being stuck in a rut for almost a month, Sero was itching to paint something. Or more accurately, he was dying to paint a certain someone. And that person was you—a stranger he’d never met in his life. Yet, you managed to invade his dreams every night for the last two weeks. It was like a game; you waltzed in, giggling up a storm, and Sero ran after you. He saw your back, but never your face; he would wake up just when you’d turn around to show yourself. That was how all his dreams ended.  

Until this morning.

Sero plopped down on the stool that wobbled under his weight. The blank canvas stared back at him. Fingers scrambled to grab a charcoal pencil lost in a messy pile of his art supplies. A good sketch of your head and shoulders was key to bringing you to life. His eyes followed the delicate strokes that fleshed out your beautiful features. He didn’t want to miss out on a single detail on this painting.

Especially that lovely face of yours, the one that took his breath away. Sero gave special attention to those unique details. A quick solution was added to seal the sketch and left to dry. Sero distracted himself by prepping his materials. All his fingers twitched, and he bit the inside of his cheek so hard it could bleed. The urge to paint you drove him insane. He couldn’t help it—the artistic flame was burning again, and much stronger than before.

His eyes wandered to the canvas. One touch and the corners of his lips curved; it was dried. The imaginary chains broke loose, allowing Sero to dive straight into his work. A ray of sunlight peeked through the windows. Sero grinned, brushing the paint across your cheeks. Each movement felt natural, and he let you—his muse—be his guide.

Sero wanted to capture everything about you.

He painted your nose so he could breathe the same air as you. He painted your lips, those soft and luscious lips that begged for a kiss. He painted your eyes that left him mesmerized no matter where he stood. He painted you with every bit of passion and desire raging in his heart and soul.

You only existed in his dreams, but Sero knew that’s not where you belonged. His mind was too cramped for your magnificent presence. You deserved better than that. Which was why Sero chose to paint you on the largest canvas he owned like the absolute queen you were. Anything less would fail to showcase your exquisite beauty in Sero’s eyes.

Another stroke here. A dash of color there. A touch of shade everywhere. Not once did the paintbrush stop its graceful dance across the canvas. It was as though Sero was under a spell where his only focus was on you. Sero succumbed to the madness clouding his sense of reality. There was no use fighting against it. He trusted you, the lovely muse living in his mind, to control him until he finished the masterpiece.

Sero switched to a thinner brush so he could add the finer details with great precision. He paid special attention to your eyes and lips. The tip of the brush dabbed around your irises, emphasizing the playful glint that drove Sero crazy. As for your lips, they carried a mischievous smile as though you knew something he did not.

An exhausted sigh broke the silence. Sero wiped the sweat beads trickling down his forehead. He finished and took a couple of steps back to admire his artwork. A tired, but satisfied smile, stretched across his face. He lowered his color palette and paintbrush, ignoring the cramped muscles around his fingers.

You were worth the pain.

As Sero cleaned up his materials, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was being watched. The back of his hair stood up as he twiddled a dirty rag. Sero gazed at the painting. Everything about the portrait was spectacular and impressively realistic despite being a figment of his imagination. You weren’t real. So why did he feel nervous as your eyes followed him out the door?

Sero shook his head. The paint was making him see things. Besides, it was also late, and his strained eyes needed to rest. He passed out the moment his head hit the pillow. Sero expected to see you again in his dreams, and he waited. But tonight, you did not come.

A loud knock woke Sero up.

He hissed as the morning sun blinded his eyes. Another knock banged on the door, and Sero tossed the bed covers aside. Who wanted to see him so early in the day? Sero groaned, shuffling his feet down the hall. He answered the door with disheveled hair and yesterday’s clothes on his back. In hindsight, Sero should have made himself more presentable.

Only who would have guessed the person knocking on his door was you—the muse that lived in his dreams. Sero stumbled forward, grabbing the doorframe for support. Was he still dreaming? If he was, everything felt too real. Sero didn’t know whether or not to close his agape mouth, and you giggled.

“Hi, there!” Sero was taken aback by the sound of your voice. His breath hitched, and you tilted your head as though everything was normal. You bowed politely while sharing your name. “Sorry if I woke you up so early! I’m the new neighbor living down the hall. I forgot to introduce myself after moving in yesterday.”

“I-It’s f-fine.”

That was a lie, and Sero knew it. The young artist was in awe as he took in your overwhelming presence. You were more stunning in the flesh than in his imagination and artistic piece combined. His heart pounded as he studied your facial features. Everything was the same—your adorable nose, your lively eyes, and your radiant smile. They were the same ones he painted for hours until they looked perfect. Sero was sure he saw the brush strokes peeking through your skin.

“Hey, you okay?” Sero nearly laughed; he didn’t know where to begin with that question. You inched dangerously close to his face with a raised eyebrow. “You look a little pale, almost as if you saw a ghost or something.”

“I, ah, slept late last night,” he wheezed out, his chest squeezing itself tight. There was no way you were real. Sero swallowed a thick gulp. “I was, um, just working on—”

“An art piece?” Now that sent a shiver down Sero’s spine. You chuckled, dismissing the surprised look in eyes. “You’re covered in paint, silly!”

Sero relaxed slightly. “Oh, right…”

“Well, does this cute artist have a name?”

“I’m Sero Hanta, sorry about that,” he rubbed the back of his neck. You hummed, as though you already knew his name. A cheeky grin crept on your face. It was at that moment Sero noticed a playful gleam flash across your eyes. He knew because he painted that exact expression until his fingers became numb. But you weren’t real.

“Oh no worries,” you stood up straight, carrying an air of mystery. Your allure reeled Sero in like a siren beckoning a ship full of fishermen lost at sea. “I’m glad we finally had the chance to meet. Maybe we can talk some more, say this afternoon at a nearby café? You can even show me around the neighborhood. I’ve been meaning to stretch my legs after unpacking all day yesterday.”

“S-sure.”

“Perfect.”  

On the surface, your smile was innocent. However, Sero picked up the subtle slyness hiding underneath. He knew because, like your eyes, he painted those exact lips. Sero’s hand twitched as he watched you saunter away. Seconds later, he slammed the door and rushed down the hall to his art studio.

Sero barged into the room with his chest heaving uncontrollably. Sweat beads rolled down his neck, and he felt oddly hot in his wrinkly clothes. The color on his face drained as he stumbled closer to the canvas. Raggedy breaths filled the room, shocked eyes growing wider with every step he took toward the art piece.  

You were gone; only the background remained inside the canvas. Sero circled the easel, trying to make sense of what was happening. One hand pushed his hair up in distress. All the signs were pointing to one thing, and he refused to believe it. You weren’t real; you were just muse from his dreams. Just a beautiful face that teased him every night and Sero painted you to admire your beauty with his own eyes.

Sero shook his head, denying everything. He struggled to stay sane and believed he was still dreaming. Any minute now, he will wake up, and your portrait will be there to greet his eyes. Sero mumbled under his breath to calm down. The artist glanced at the canvas only to do a quick double-take.

Both legs caved under the immense weight that dropped on his shoulders. Sero crawled to the canvas, his throat going dry. One finger hovered above the lower righthand corner with words written in charcoal pencil that read:

Thanks for painting me!

Sero brought his vision to life…literally.

Thank you for reading!

[cloudsrust]

😳👉👈..its uh. lobotomy anon-and I have one (1) question.

How the heck can you do clean line art?? I've tried but the attempts don't look good

Mhhh- dunno how much I can help with that ‘cause, to be honest, my lineart is rarely actually clean sdhgsdsd. (most good lineart in my art is like an illusion caused by my editing/coloring ahah.) What I can say is that the pressure (especially for line width)  and the stabilizer change the art game A LOT- 

(Note: I gave the same care and the same time to each of them- also used the same sketch.) The stabilizer is especially a life saver if you want smooth/clean lineart but don’t have the firmest hand (Like me- who got it all the way up to S-7 on my SAI :,>). So don’t ignore it like I did for my first hellish year of drawing-tablet art;;; Those two aside- Personally, I tackle the lineart in three different ways (that sometimes overlay with each other). 1- Actual lineart: I just finish the sketch and after days of pondering over it I force myself to line it. With this one you just gotta be decise with your lines, this means no jagged lines trying to follow the sketch underneath or very slow hand motions, just one decise stroke. Undo and repeat until success-! Example -of me suffering and deciding to color instead of continuing the lineart sdhdhsd:

(*Sigh* Some sacrifices must be made to appease the lineart gods- so sometimes parts of the sketch will just be a guide of where the thing is supposed to be instead of a base to line;;)  2- Clean sketch: You keep on searching and cleaning the sketch, layers over layers, until it looks like a “messy lineart”. Then you carefully clean them lines! Example of what I mean by “messy lineart”:

(The only “sketch” worthy parts still visible are in the ribbon and in the arm- the rest is quite easy to clean. The masks and eyes, for example, are practically ready to be used in an actual “clean lineart”- just need to clean the particles). 3- Painted over: I haphazardly make the lineart and then I take my time painting over the mistakes or unclean lines- usually at the end of the piece.  Example: ( a bit messier than my usual, but still shows it)

(Some pieces look a bit weird ‘cause I had to remove the blood layer to show it better- but you can see what I mean if you look at the fingers and nails in the foreground, oh and also at the eye-!)

What these three “methods” have in common is a lot of trial to see what sticks and/or what is the most comfortable option ouo (there are days when I’m all about that pure lineart, while others I just want to chill and slowly clean or paint over a sketch.) There isn’t really a unique way in which you can do clean lineart- I mean, from what I see from your art.. maybe the “painting over” one might work for you! Because I can see that in many places there are clean lines (like the teeth in that first post- heck those are looking hella clean and precise!)- so I think you struggle more with the consistency of that precision more than the lineart itself, and since you also seem to have a painterly style for shading- I think that painting over the lines to clean them could do for you-! It also works with pieces with a simpler style btw.

These are just how I see it myself, can’t really say much else since I dunno what exactly makes you think your attempts don’t look good so-;;; hope this is in some way helpful or at least understandable? 

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 11

The Art of the Crash

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol (explicit), noncon drug use, aftermath of drug use, vomit mention, food mention, discussion of noncon, dubcon kissing, conditioned/trained responses from whumpee, brief mention of suicide (vague), dehumanizing language/themes (let me know if I missed anything!)

Gio slept well into the afternoon the next day. Nicko let him, he knew from experience with Rory that there was an inevitable crash that followed the highs, and he'd spent quite a few days ignoring her sleeping body on his bed, usually it ended in her getting up only to vomit and then cry to Nicko about how shitty life was. So this time, with Gio, he waited in the bedroom with him until that happened. He finished the painting he'd started the night before. He had to refrain himself from waking Gio up to see it. Then he sat on the floor and sketched more, using Gio's face pressed against his dark pillow case and the dull light of sun through snow clouds dancing across his face as inspiration. He didn't draw the bruises or the hickeys, found himself strangely jealous over them both. He kept the tattoos, because those belonged to him, and Giovanni's adorable crooked tooth, and his messy, wavy hair that splayed out across the pillow and his face. Nicko couldn't wait for him to wake up so he could draw him with bed head.

When Gio finally woke up, it wasn't to throw up or to complain about the nightmare of his life crumbling around him, not that Nicko would've blamed him, but to the sound of some music that Nicko had put on quietly to help him focus, deciding to work on some long put off art assignments. Nicko didn't notice that he woke up, and Gio rubbed his eyes just a little and glanced over Nicko's shoulder to see the bright array of colors across his page, dark marker scribbling purposefully against the paper. He was enthralled for a moment, then he turned his focus up to the large canvas he'd caught a darkened glimpse of last night, and he gasped sharply.

Nicko swiveled around to look at him, eyes blown wide like seeing Gio conscious was jarring. It made him wonder how long he'd been out. "Oh. You're awake."

Gio glanced at him for a second, then turned his attention back to the painting. The painting of him, sleeping in bed, lost in a world of blankets. He pushed himself up to his elbows with a wince. "Is...is that me?" He whispered.

Nicko looked back at the painting in question, smiling bashfully to himself. "Uh, yeah. Yeah you were just...you look nice in my bed." He fought the blush creeping up his cheeks, the embarrassment was uncomfortably new. He didn't know why he was embarrassed, just that suddenly he was the one who couldn't make eye contact with Gio. The switch in dynamic was painfully tangible to both of them, with Nicko on the ground, cheeks rosy and face turned away, and Gio sitting on the bed, looking down at him. With a yawn, Gio pushed the blankets off of him and stood up.

Nicko watched him closely, surprised that he hadn't hurled already. Then, as if on queue, he closed his eyes and swayed forward, bringing his hands up to his head with a groan. Before he can tip over, Nicko is up on his feet next to him, placing strong hands on his shoulders to hold him steady. "Are you ok?"

Gio dropped his hands, blinking a few times before squinting up at Nicko. "Dizzy." He looked a little dazed, his face pale, and Nicko crouched down on the floor, gently pulling him down with him. Gio easily knelt, body soft and easily movable, as always. Once Gio was all the way on the floor, hunched over just a little to make himself smaller, as if he wasn't already pathetically tiny already, Nicko ran his hand up his neck, across his jaw.

"I'm gonna go make you something to eat. Ok? You wait right here."

Gio nodded eagerly, towards Nicko's hand, his huge vacant doe eyes gazing up at him through his curtain of hair. Nicko had been right, his curly hair was framing his head in a dark halo, and he had a sudden sense of urgency to get some food in him so he could draw him. Nicko smiled at him, patting his head softly as he stood straight.

Salem was in the kitchen when Nicko came out, and they both froze awkwardly in their places when they saw each other. Nicko nodded at him as he passed, opening the fridge and grabbing a bowl of fruit and a protein shake, then deciding last minute to also palm a bottle of water. When Nicko shut the fridge, Salem was standing a couple feet away watching him.

"He woke up?" Salem asked.

"Yeah. I think he's ok, just hungry." Nicko hesitated, they both looked at each other, then away, then Nicko sighed. "You wanna come? I think he'd like to see you."

Salem lit up just a little, straightening his posture and smiling to himself. "Sure."

When the door opened, Gio flinched upright from where he'd been leaning over just a little, looking at Nicko's sketchbook, at the cartoonish portrait of a woman he had been drawing. He turned to see Nicko standing in the doorway, Salem a couple steps behind him. Gio couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

They both came in and joined him on the floor. Nicko opened the bowl of fruit and set it in front of Gio, but he wasn't paying much attention, watching Nicko's face apprehensively. He knew from observing that Salem and Nicko weren't particularly fond of each other, he'd heard them fighting before, and he was a little worried to show any attention to Salem in case it came across as disloyal. He couldn't afford anymore mistakes, when it came to Nicko.

Nicko sensed it, and opened the water bottle and forced it into Gio's hand as he said, "Salem was waiting for you to wake up like a kid on Christmas. He missed you."

Salem laughed awkwardly, shifting where he sat. "Yeah. It sucked not having anyone to show my lame music to."

Gio was grinning ear to ear at them both, but he said nothing. Truthfully, he didn't really understand what they were talking about, didn't remember what Christmas or lame meant, but he was happy to have them speaking to him anyway. Salem only stayed for a few minutes, then he told them he had to get to class. When he said goodbye to Gio, he gave him a soft pat on the top of the head, like Nicko kept doing, and Gio smiled up at him as he left. Nicko wondered why Salem wasn't Gio's favorite. He was at least nice.

Once he was gone, Nicko picked up a block of fruit, mango maybe, and gently coaxed it into Gio's mouth since he hadn't eaten any yet. Then he reached for his sketch book and his pencils, moving so he was squared up to Gio, who looked a little nervous when Nicko's pencil started scratching across the paper.

"So you were with Rory, huh?" Nicko asked. He kept his tone light, he knew that Gio was anxious enough around him already, could see his face get a little more horrified every time Nicko's voice was a little too loud, too harsh.

He nodded stiffly, only once, then moved very slowly to eat a strawberry. He knew Nicko was drawing him, he was trying to be as still as he could be. He was too cute.

"And how was that?"

Nicko thought he heard Giovanni huff in disdain at the question, and he looked up to see his face screwed up in a tight frown, like it pained him to think about. Nicko sighed, then kept drawing.

"You can tell me as much or as little as you want, Gio. It's just...you don't look too good. I just want to know how she hurt you so I can help." His pencil froze on the paper when Gio reached up and covered his eyes for a second, then he hastily dropped them back to his lap like he remembered he was supposed to be sitting still.

"She told me she was gonna bring me back," he whispered, voice trembling painfully as he thought back to that day, how stupid he was, "she wouldn't tell me where we were going, but she just kept saying she would bring me back before anyone noticed I was gone."

"Ben called me right after you left, I think."

Gio frowned at him. The entire time he'd been wishing that Ben would come out and stop Rory from taking him, and he had called Nicko right after he left? Why did he wait? Gio bit back his frustrated tears, then continued on.

"We went to this guys house. Oscar." Gio flinched as the name passed his lips, then shook his head to himself. "The entire time we were driving she was drinking and smoking, and so I was too. I tripped at some point and made my nose bleed, so he let us in so Rory could clean me off. Then she was talking about...about buying something. From Oscar."

Nicko knew the name, he'd met him only once before, but he knew that he was huge and even more of an asshole than Nicko was. He was the one Rory always went to for her hard shit, which Nicko hated so he hadn't accompanied her after the first time. He stopped drawing altogether, setting his sketchbook down and moving closer to Gio, who was now shaking all over.

"She didn't have enough money, I guess, and uh...um." He couldn't look at Nicko anymore, turning his head away from him completely. He couldn't bare to see Nicko's face when he admitted to the horrible, unfaithful things he did. Giovanni knew he belonged to Nicko and only Nicko, and he was absolutely disgusted in himself for having allowed Oscar or Rory or the motel owner or any of the others to do what they did to him. "He wanted her t-to pay a different way."

"Oh, shit, Gio."

"Only she didn't want to," he continued, "and she was scared, and I didn't want her to be scared so...so when she asked me to do it instead, I-I did."

Nicko was stunned into silence, eyes instinctively dropping to the mess of hickeys all over Gio's frail neck. It was heartbreaking, thinking of Gio feeling the need to protect Rory like that, especially when he was the one that needed protection. It was even more heartbreaking to think of him under Oscar, who Nicko had no doubt had ripped Gio to shreds with their size difference.

Gio was only more frightened at Nicko's lack of reply. Silence meant anger, silence meant that Master was thinking very hard, something Gio was too stupid to do, and more often than not, silence meant brutal, meticulously planned punishment. So Gio did what he was best at: he started to beg.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, I know I'm yours, I shouldn't have ever let them touch m-me." He looked up at Nicko, then his composure broke and he let out a tiny whimper before crawling over to him. "L-Let me make it up to you, sir. Please, use me, let m-me be good for you. Please le-let me-"

"Gio, stop." Nicko was flustered by Gio crawling right up between his legs, trailing his trembling fingers over Nicko's leg suggestively. But all of it was happening rather quickly, too quickly for Nicko to react well, and Gio was freaking out, for whatever reason, so all he could do was sit still. And what was this "them" that Gio was talking about? Had it not just been Oscar that Rory handed the box boy over to? He wanted to ask, but he couldn't form the words, not when Gio was on his knees inbetween Nicko's legs.

"P-please! Please, sir. Wan-wanna be useful." Now his hand was brushing tentatively at his belt, over his zipper, and then Nicko reached down and snatched his wrist up tightly in his hand before he went any lower. Gio gasped, snapping his head up to look at Nicko. He was closer than either of them had realized, now that they were face to face they were inches apart. Gio's eyes were glazed over with something Nicko hadn't ever seen before, something that made them soft and dulled down more so than usual, but simultaneously had a sad glimmer of tears over it. Nicko had thought the huge, spaced out gaze Gio did at him sometimes was his version of puppy dog eyes, but that paled in comparison to the way he was looking at him now. Nicko would never admit it out loud, but it drove him absolutely crazy, to have someone looking at him with such gentle desperation.

"Stop calling me sir." Nicko instructed after a moment of silence. Gio didn't break his gaze, he only blinked a few times, and then he nodded. "I want you to say my name, when you beg like that. Alright?"

Giovanni melted in Nicko's grip, leaning forward just a little closer. "Nicko..." he breathed, and that was all it took. Nicko dropped his wrist and took his face in both of his hands, drawing a small whimper from him.

"I don't want to take your clothes off or use you, or anything like that." He whispered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against Gio's. "I just want to...try something. For one second. Ok, Giovanni?"

"Please, Nicko."

Gio held his breath right before Nicko kissed him, focusing on keeping himself still and soft and good for Nicko, but it all went out the window once their lips were actually pressed together. Gio had been burning for this since the first time Nicko had kissed him, but he was too afraid to ask and Gio always seemed to make him regret it anyways, so he didn't think there was much use hoping for it. And here he was, with Nicko holding him close, kissing him, just kissing him, and he was so nervous he was going to mess it up and not be good enough at it to make Nicko want him.

Nicko pulled away from him after only a couple of seconds, he laughed when Gio huffed in obvious displeasure. But he was calmer now, not panicking and calling him "sir" and saying all of those...other...disturbing things. So Nicko was satisfied.

"I seriously think you should eat, darling." He trailed his fingertips over Gio's jaw as he spoke, slowly pulling his hands away. "I'm worried you're gonna blow away if we go outside."

Gio sank back to sit down where he had been, picking up the bowl of fruit again and watching his hands tremble as he picked up another piece of the sweet orange-ish fruit Nicko gave him earlier. He couldn't force himself to put it in his mouth, knew he wouldn't be able to chew and swallow over the huge lump in his throat. Why didn't Nicko want him? Why wasn't Gio good enough for him? Maybe it was arrogant of him to think he was good enough, he should be humble, he should just keep trying harder until he actually was. But truthfully it wasn't hurtful because he thought he felt deserving, it was hurtful because he was scared. He wasn't good enough for his old master, he wasn't good enough for Rory, he wasn't even good enough to keep his old life. And he loved Nicko so, so, painfully much, he had finally found somewhere mostly safe and his master was perfect and if he wasn't good enough again then maybe Rory was right, and he should just give up, find a way out, like she said.

Nicko got a little freaked out at the way he could physically see Gio's crash start, he was a little unnerved to see his posture sink in a little, his throat bobbing up and down as he tried not to cry. He could see his thoughts spiraling, realizing that, damn, life kind of sucks, and it kind of always has and what if always does? By now, Rory would be a blubbering mess.

As if reading Nicko's mind, Gio started to sniffle, trying again to press the fruit to his lips, still unable to bite. If he opened his mouth, he might make a noise, and he just wanted to stop messing up already. But then, Nicko was sitting in front of him, gently grabbing his hand and taking the mango away from him, setting it back in the bowl for him. Then he grabbed Gio and pulled him into his lap, holding him close.

"You're ok, Gio." He told him. "I know, it hurts, I know, but I'm here, I've got you."

Giovanni let out a soft mewl, trying without much strength to squirm out of the comforting arms. He was terrified of the gentleness he so obviously didn't deserve, knew it could easily be used against him later. "I was so soft with you earlier," the warm body would say, "Don't you want me to do that again? I will, if you do this for me."

But this wasn't just a warm body, it wasn't his old Master, it wasn't the couple of guards who would visit his cold, concrete cell late at night long after training was over, it was Nicko. And Nicko didn't even want him in that way. Why didn't Nicko want him that way? "Nicko, please please u-use me. I-"

"Shh, Gio. I don't want to do that to you."

"Why?!" He sobbed out, fingers tightening into tight fists around Nicko's shirt. "Why d-don't you w-wa-want me?!"

Nicko gasped at his outburst, reflexively tightening his grip around him just a little. "Giovanni...I...shit. It's not about what I want, it's just that it would be, uh, different, with you. Like it wouldn't be the same as sex with a regular person cause you're uh...trained for it."

Just like that, the boy grew rigid and stopped shaking, leaning away from Nicko as much as he could. He just had to be reminded of his place, that was all. Nicko didn't want him because Nicko was a person, and Gio wasn't. Maybe Nicko just wanted him as something to practice art on, whether it be with the tattoo gun or painting him on a canvas or sketching him in his little notebook. As much as that hurt Gio, to know that he wasn't human enough for Nicko to want him back, he could live with being useful in that way for him.

"I'm sorry," Gio looked away from Nicko and up at the huge painting of him a few feet away. Nicko had done a wonderful job on it, he made Gio look small and pale and broken, like he was and felt he always would be. But Nicko had also done a good job of showcasing Gio as alone, swimming in an ocean of black fabric, isolated and untouched and useless. Like he was, and felt he always would be. "That was...out of line. I'm sorry."

"Gio, c'mon. Don't... Don't be all sad now. I do like you, I really do. I think you're the cutest thing ever." He reached out and grabbed onto a piece of his hair, twisting it somewhat playfully. "And you're a real good kisser, too. Honestly." Gio looked up at him, and Nicko grinned at him, trying to elicit some sort of positive reaction. Finally, Gio cracked a small, halfhearted smile, dropping his shoulders from how tense he was. "But I don't want to have sex with you cause it...you know, it means something different to us. You understand?"

Gio nodded slowly, forcing himself to take a deep, ragged breath. "Yeah, I understand."

Nicko leaned forward just a little and placed a soft kiss into his hair. "Good boy," he mumbled, "now eat your fruit so I can finish drawing you, yeah?"

The smile on Gio's face was genuine that time around, and he sat a little straighter. "Yes, Nicko." So Gio sat still, he watched Nicko scribble against his paper while glancing up at him every so often, and he ate his fruit. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but that didn't matter, he did it because he was told to, because Nicko wanted him to. Gio had once been told, in training, that as long as his master is happy, he should be to. He was seriously starting to wonder if he was broken, because it was seeming like he couldn't be happy at all, even as Nicko smiled at him over his notebook.

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟓

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟎𝟗𝟎

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟓:

“Her eyes. . .” Your mother trembled as you reached out to her with your smaller hands. “They’re filthy.”

You felt the sharp sensation of pain hitting your cheek as you stumbled back onto the floor. You stared up at your mother with shocked eyes while she glared back at you. You propped yourself on your elbows while you felt the sting of her slap still resting on your cheek.

“M-Mom. . . ? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t call me mom!” She screamed, pulling on her hair as her body trembled with anger. You started to feel extremely scared in the moment, your mother was going through another breakdown.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” She wailed, hitting the walls of your home while you back yourself up against the opposite side, trying to keep your distance away from her. She screamed in rage before throwing some of the tablewares at you while you held your arms up, shielding yourself from the barrage of silverware that collided against the bruises on your skin. 

“Mother. . .” You began to tear up when she walked towards you, her hand outstretched and raised before giving you another slap against your face. Her (h/c) hair framing her face while it pooled over her shoulder, her lips caved downwards to a frown as she stared down at you with hatred. 

“Cover your eyes. I don’t want to see them.”

You tightly shut your eyes as you felt your mother roughly pulling on your hair, the forceful feeling making you terrified of the idea that your hair might even be ripped out of your scalp entirely. She began dragging you across the floor and shoving you into your room, the door slamming shut right behind you with a thud as her footsteps slowly disappeared.

You laid in the cold ground, breathing a sigh of relief as you began cracking your eyes open to stare at the large altar within the room. It was still decorated with various empty bowls and incense, albeit a bit messy and thrown together. The figure of God staring down at your pitiful, childish body with their hardened gaze.

“God. . . Please save me.” You reached out to the figure weakly before your arm fell down to the floor moments after, your energy weakening by the second. Your vision starts to blur as you try to keep your eyes open at God, begging them to free you from this prison. 

You gasped and sat up from your bed, your heart pounding as if someone was knocking on it vigorously. You covered your mouth as you felt your stomach beginning to clench itself, you were feeling extremely sick and you desperately wanted to throw up.

“It was just a dream. . .” You whispered, “it was all just a dream.”

You felt the cool drip of liquid fall from your eyes and onto your lap, your hand reaching out to stroke the cheek your mother touched. Beads of sweat were dripping down from your neck as you struggled to breathe. You choked up a sob as you tried to control your cries.

How many more years must you suffer this curse?

You brought your hand up close to your eyes, your nails only inches away from the skin as you stared into your palm.

You wished there was a way to end this torment.

Your arm began to shake as you tried to stabilize yourself. You tightly shut your eyes before reeling your hand back, lulling yourself back into bed while you continued crying. Your chest started to burn as you struggled for proper oxygen. You pulled the sheet over your head, engulfing your entire figure in darkness as you found yourself slowly drifting away in the sea of emptiness.

You mindlessly drew in your journal, drinking your second carton of milk while you sat on the rooftop with everyone else. Yuki eyed you carefully, noticing that you had taken off your bandages and there were dark circles under your eyes which you tried to conceal with a bit of makeup.

Did something happen to you last night? He continued to eat his meal as he sat near you, listening to the rest of the group talk to each other. Although you joined them this time for lunch, you seemed to be spacing out quite a lot more today.

He saw earlier that one of his fangirls had shoved you against the wall, but you left as quickly as he came to the scene. The moment you left, you had a really nasty glare and the other girls seemed to have fallen to the ground out of pure intimidation. 

You seemed to be more tired and angry today, perhaps you didn’t get enough sleep? That was something he assumed but as he leaned over slightly to peer at your notebook, he can see you were writing down your thoughts about dreams. It was rude to take a peek at your journal, but curiosity was getting to him.

Today in Home Economics you were also quite sluggish when it came to cleaning up. There were times where you accidentally dropped the bowl or almost cut your finger which earned you a light scolding from the teacher about your health. She had previously asked you if you needed to see the nurse to rest but you openly refused her offers. He leaned his cheek against his elbow as he observed you. Uotani turned her head towards Hanajima, whispering into her ear as Tohru conversed with Kyo, clearly too distracted to pay attention to what they were saying.

“The Prince is staring at her again. . .” She whispered, covering her mouth with her hand to conceal their comments. “What do you think he is thinking about?” 

“Indeed he is. I wonder what has happened, earlier (L/n)-san wasn’t doing very well in home economics.” Hanajima replied, spooning rice into her mouth as she started to chew, “she seems to be really distant today.”

Uotani hummed while simultaneously nodding in agreement. Yuki looked around him carefully before shuffling himself over to you quietly, trying not to gain the attention of other people. You noticed his sudden change of position and turned your head towards him, causing him to flinch awkwardly as he started to sweat. 

“Sohma-san, are you alright?” You asked.

He sweatdropped as he cleared his throat, “I was just wondering if you were feeling alright today. You looked very tired during class, you should have rested in the nurse’s room.” 

You shook your head, “I’m fine, it was just a small slip up.”

I wouldn’t say spilling a bowl over your classmate’s head is considered a slip up, he thought. He sighed before finishing his lunch and watching you continue to fill out your journal for the day. 

“Do you have work today after school?” He asked. 

“No, but they have a small celebration party, I just don’t think I feel like going.” You replied, doodling a small bird at the corner of the page. “I’m not really close to anyone there, and I don’t really consider work parties fun, most of them are adults drinking alcohol and I’m only a student.” 

“Hmm. . . I see.” Yuki vaguely remembered his earlier conversation with Tohru, saying that her family was going to take her back in and she will be moving out of their house soon. He wanted to sigh but restrained himself in front of you, he didn’t want to bring up any more problems in front of you right now. 

“Are you coming over for dinner over the weekend?” 

“Maybe, I have to pick up groceries and run some errands, are you fine with waiting for me?” You tilted your head up to look at him. 

He gave you a smile, “of course.” 

You quickly turned away from him with a small blush dusted across your cheeks, “t-then. . . I will. . . come over.” 

Hanajima whispered over to Uotani, “she is blushing, I wonder what they are talking about.” 

“Maybe something about love?”

“Possibly, she’s fidgeting quite a lot actually.” Uotani nodded in agreement. 

Tohru spoke up, scaring both the girls, “what are you guys talking about it?” 

Uotani quickly pulled her into a circle, careful to not disturb the time you had with Yuki as they huddled together. Kyo awkwardly sat by the side, not understanding the situation whatsoever. 

“Tohru, the two of them are talking, you see that?” Uotani mentioned. 

She peered over the blond girl’s shoulder and saw Yuki staring at your journal constantly as you continued writing, the two of you engaging in a conversation that was too quiet for her to hear from a distance. Tohru’s smile seemed to have widened as she turned back to Uotani.

“You’re right!”

“Of course it’s right in front of you!” Kyo angrily whispered, oddly paying attention to the circle despite not actually being fully part of it. He wouldn’t want to attract Yuki’s attention during this time, which seemed out of character for someone such as Kyo. 

“So, what do you guys think they are talking about?” Hanajima whispered, “I feel a wave coming from them, but I do not know how to describe it.” 

“Maybe they’re talking about. . . love!” Tohru swooned.

Kyo rolled his eyes before flopping onto the floor, his arms underneath his head to serve as pillows, “you think that rat would actually talk about love? He’s an absolute airhead.” 

“Hm. . . The prince does seem like the type to not be interested in love.” Uotani placed her finger on her chin as she focused on her thoughts. “Maybe they’re talking about food. . .” 

“That may be true, I am also thinking about food,” Hanajima added.

“You just had lunch!” Kyo replied. 

You and Yuki purposefully ignored their conversation, instead, focusing on your journal which was starting to pile up with various notes and doodles. There were various drawings of animals on each corner of the page, such as the rabbit or cow. When being questioned about the choice of animals, you replied about drawing the zodiac animals. 

Once you had flipped your journal onto a clean page, Yuki spoke up, “do you like to draw?” 

“H-Huh? Umm. . .” You mumbled, “as a kid, I would draw on the floor with my fingers to pass time. Eventually, I just learned to do it with a pencil too.” 

You started sketching out a drawing of an eagle, delicately drawing the feathers of the bird as it rested within a tree of blooming flowers. Yuki hummed as he watched you draw, you pressed your lips together as you offered your pencil towards him.

“Do you want to try?” 

“A-Ah. . . I’m not really good at it so I’m not sure.” He waved to dismiss your hand. “P-Plus I wouldn’t want to ruin something as precious as your journal.” 

“So? It’s okay not to be good at something, it’s better to try and have fun doing it.” You responded. 

Yuki swallowed his own words as he processed your line. Trying something despite not being good at it? It seemed like a death wish to him as he began to doubt his own skills. You might even laugh at him for being so terrible at drawing or mock him on the inside, either one was horrible for him. He definitely couldn’t live with the idea of you lau-

“Sohma-san, if you think I’m going to laugh at you I’m not.” You said, pulling out a second pencil to continue drawing the flowers on the tree, “not everyone can be good at something they never tried at. It takes a lot of experience to make something look good. . . Besides. . . .” 

“Most of the things you do are already good enough. . . ” You whispered, albeit too quiet for him to have even picked up your words. 

He smiled before taking up one of your pencils, “I guess you have a point.” 

You slid yourself closer to him so that the page would be in the middle, your voice guiding him on anything he felt unsure about drawing. Your shoulder bumped against his but you ignored the feeling, focusing your attention on drawing the details of the bird. He lifted up his pencil to begin drawing his part of the page while the others stared at the two of you silently. 

For the rest of the lunch, Yuki was drawing a small rat sitting next to the eagle on the blooming sakura tree. The animal leaned up against the bird in content. Although messy and inexperienced, you found this memory to be precious to keep within your journal. 

[httpheh]

five times they had an unresolved tension, and that one time it got resolved part 1/? — 

 Tom is a household name in the modeling industry. Graduated from the prestigious Hogwarts School of Arts, he signed an exclusive contract with the renowned designer Salazar Slytherin, and started walking on London’s Fashion Week. 

 Ever since then, the model’s face would regularly grace Prophet’s cover, showcasing designs fresh from Slytherin’s sketches. He became everyone’s favorite in less than a year, even Cedric Diggory, who debuted in Ilvermorny’s Winter Collection paled in comparison. 

 Harry skimmed through the glossy pages of Prophet’s newest issue, barely listening to Hermione’s ramblings about the company’s work ethic. "Really though, Harry. The pressure’s really high. I have to stay until seven in the evening every day to clean up after the photoshoots. And general meeting starts at seven in the morning.”

 Despite her protests’, Hermione seemed to be proud of herself for being able to get accepted as an intern in Prophet, which is her lifelong dream ever since she was eleven. 

 “He’s everywhere I swear.” Harry remarked, staring at Tom’s face on the magazine. Hermione hummed, “He’s Slytherin’s favorite. Shows up in every season of Mosmordre’s look-book,“ 

 "Everyone likes him; Prophet’s sales doubled when he was featured on the cover. Something Slughorn took a mental note of. Our director’s practically head over heels for him.”

 Letting out an amused laugh, Harry slide the magazine across the table, giving it back to Hermione. 

“Well, at least you got a stable job.” He remarked, mumbling a thanks as a waitress puts his drink on the table. She snorted, “Well, It’s not my fault you decline to intern at Prophet together.“ 

 "My speciality is with nature, not people.” He retorted, pouring too much sugar into his tea. 

“And how’s your application to Fantastic Beasts and— What’s the name?“ 

“Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. Still haven’t got the news. they probably rejected my pictures again.”

Both went silent; Hermione flipping through Prophet and Harry drinking his hot tea, cursing silently as the tea slowly burnt his tongue. “Anyways, how’s Sumatra?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. “Its exotic. My memory card’s full of shades of green up and brown below.”

 Harry unzipped his camera bag, revealing a few of his best shots in the tropical forests. Hermione’s mouth gaped in awe, remarking that the view reminds her of the forests’ in Amazon. “With this, Fantastic Beasts have absolutely no reason to reject your pictures. Look at them! I’ll pay for them!“ 

 "Thank you for the mental support, Hermione. But only three freelancers got featured in each issue. I can’t set my hopes too high.” 

Hermione made a dismissive gesture, “Nonsense, I would hex anyone who rejects this masterpiece.” 

“Neville helped me in most shots though, he ought to get credit for that too.” 

“Neville? I heard his pictures got showcased in last month’s exhibition.” Harry’s eyebrows perked, “Really?” 

Hermione stared at him, “This is why you got to pay more attention on what’s happening around you. Yes, Neville Longbottom is now an accomplished photographer, probably in process of being a professional and setting up his photo studio. So why don’t you start by interning at Prophet?” 

“Like I said, Hermione–” 

“I get it,” She interrupted, “It’s a matter of preference, but can’t you start by taking pictures of people? You could imagine them as trees or something.” She suggested. 

Harry knew their conversations are always going back to this matter. “People are different, Hermione. I simply prefer nature better.” 

“Yes, but one must settle with less if the situation calls for it.” 

Hermione has always been a persistent person; he couldn’t blame her, it was what made her top of the class, graduating with perfect scores. “I’ll think about it.” He finally replied dismissively.

 Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something, but refrained as she took a sip of her tea, which has been left on the table untouched for a bit too long. 

It was seven fifteen in the morning. Harry rubbed his eyes, his hands searching for the familiar thin object resting next to his nightstand. 

Wait, he thought. His alarm doesn’t ring until eight-thirty. 

Peering at the phone screen, Harry groaned. “’Ello?” 

“Harry! Are you free today?” Hermione’s voice resonated across his messy flat. “What?” Yawning as he got out of bed, Harry leans against the wall for support while searching for his spectacles on the floor. 

“Prophet’s photographer got sick, the usual fill in is out of the country. Can you fill in instead?” 

“Found it!” He mumbled, adjusting his spectacles on his nose. Hermione’s groan could be heard from the line, “You just woke up didn’t you?” 

Harry shrugged, “My circadian rhythm is not like the others.” 

“Anyways,” Hermione continued, “Can you fill in instead?” 

Sandwiching his phone in between his shoulder and his ears, Harry opened the fridge rather hastily, scanning for a bottle of orange juice inside. 

“So, I’m a fill in for a fill in?” He confirmed, pouring his orange juice on a tea cup. There was a pause. “You don’t seem delighted.” 

“Outstanding deduction, Mr. Holmes” His sarcastic remark earned a light groan from the other line. 

“Just a shot, and you’ll be free.” Harry took a shot of his orange juice, wondering how she will react to the new pun he just discovered. 

“Interesting, just tell me the time and I’ll be there.” 

Harry swore he could hear Hermione giggling. “Brilliant! I need you to be here at seven forty-five.” 

And he wondered why he agreed. 

Prophet’s headquarters is located in the heart of Diagon Alley, which also happens to be the place where the bloody traffic is. Slamming the taxi door behind him, Harry struggled to get past the sea of people, bumping into at least a dozen of people and more curses being directed at him ( in different languages too!). 

The entrance to Prophet requires a thorough body check; his bag was scanned, he had to walked through the x-ray at least three times before he remembered to put his Iphone 4 into the x-ray machine to be scanned. 

In the end, the security gave him the Visitor’s ID and told him to wait at the lobby, despite his reason of being the fill in of this fill in for this certain photoshoot. Harry couldn’t blame him; the fact that his reasoning has too few of an information has made him looked suspicious. 

“Harry!” A familiar voice shouted, and Harry turned to see his saviour Hermione running towards him. “Quick!” She yanked his wrist, dragging him across the lobby to the elevator. Hermione punched the floor, waiting for the doors to close before saying anything. Harry, who has earned a Doctorate in Reading Hermione’s Body Language, braced for the future attack. 

“Fucking Goyle. He must’ve mistaken you as a bloody model up for casting. Now we’re late!” Harry raised his eyebrows. 

“A model?” He asked, knowing that Hermione doesn’t like to be interrupted. 

“Yes, a model. Look at you, your body is so… petite.“ She retorted. The elevator made a ding! as the doors opened, revealing the busy photoshoot scene. 

Harry ignored her last statement, tailing her as she made her way to the casting director, who introduced himself as Armando Dippet and to the Head designer, Salazar Slytherin. 

“Now, Mr. Dippet and Slytherin, may I introduce you our new photographer intern , Harry James Potter.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dippet, Mr Slytherin.” Harry said, extending his hand for a handshake. 

“Wildlife photographer, are you, M’ boy?” Dippet asked, shaking his hand firmly. Harry froze, “How did you–” 

“Miss Granger has referred us to you.” Slytherin supplied, shaking his hand as soon as Dippet lets his hands go. 

“It’s not everyday we get a wildlife photographer. I think we could flirt with the idea of having a wildlife photographer in charge of today's photoshoot. What are your thoughts, Slytherin?” Dippet’s voice was calm, yet there was an authoritative aura behind it, Harry observed. 

“That would do. After all, I am impressed with how he captures the Sumatran tigers with such precision and beauty. I am looking forward to how he will capture my designs.” 

Before Harry could muster a word, Hermione decided to speak up, “Harry is a dear friend of mine, Mr. Slytherin. You do not need to worry, Mosmordre’s look book will surely be a work of art.” 

“Then, we will leave you to familiarize yourself to the studio. We will do Polaroid casting first, then Tom at one. Consider yourself part of Prophet’s family now.” Harry forces an awkward acknowledging smile as Dippet patted his back, leaving him with Hermione to check on the designs. 

“You could’ve told me the truth!” 

“I’m very sorry!” 

Both shouted at the same time, ignoring everyone’s curious stare. “I’m very sorry, I’m just so desperate and showed them a couple of pictures you sent me last night and they just.. liked your style?” Hermione’s voice was softer than before, as if trying to not hurt his feelings. 

Harry snorted at the thought, “You could, you know, not lie to me.” 

Hermione lets out a frustrated groan, “Just help me out, this once. Please.” 

[jazzypizzaz]

that reminds me that a million years ago, I started writing a trans!Ginny fic... I stopped for the same reason I abandon any fic, ran out of steam, also because as a cis person I felt I needed to read/listen/learn, but I actually wrote way more here than I thought?? anyway caveat that this is half-sketched 

I Told You So or A Witch Knows Best

February 1981

“This one’s a girl, I can tell,”  Mrs. Weasley says offhandedly, rubbing her stomach as she conducts pots and pans into and out of the soapy sink.

Mr. Weasley peeks up from his Muggle Monthly Magazine, confusedly.  He looks around and sees no one but the two of them.  

“Sorry, wassat?”  he says.

“This one’s a girl, I’m certain of it this time.”  

He notices her hand resting on her stomach and jumps up at once. “Oh! a baby!  Mollywobbles!”  He makes his way over to her, rubs her shoulder, and kisses her cheek with a delighted smile.

Molly smiles back, then twists her mouth in concern.  “I know we’re stretched thin as it is, but Bill will be off to Hogwarts next year, so that will free up the top bedroom, as well as some of the chaos...”  

"I know it shouldn't matter, but…" She clasps her hands together with a wistful smile and continues, “just think!  A quiet, clever little daughter!  A sensible confidante in this houseful of messy little boys.  Of course, she be more mischievous than the twins, a more reckless flyer than Bill, and Merlin knows the Queen herself is messier than Percy, and I'd love my little tomboy all the same, but -- a daughter!”  

“A daughter you say?  But… generations!  and darling you did think the same of Charlie.  And Percy, and Ro--”

She kisses his cheek, and he immediately stops talking.   Molly smiles indulgently.  “And! just think!  Tiny dresses and little bows… It’s like I know her already.”

He opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and with an adoring shake of his head and a grin says with full sincerity, “A daughter!  Another baby.  That’s wonderful news, Molly.  And you know-- we’ve been making real headway on the MPA-- there’s a good chance I’ll be promoted once we can push it through approval.  They may be opening up a whole new department, part of Magical Enforcement, and I’d be first in line for a junior position.”

“Oh that’s wonderful news!  I’m always saying they’re wasting your talents as a legal cleric, but I knew you’d make the best of it.”

“We’ll be fine, love, we always are,” Mr. Weasley says, giving her a squeeze then letting her go.  And you’ll be fine, if it’s another son, hangs between them unsaid.  

He gazes longingly at the upturned magazine, then wanders to his briefcase and takes out some papers for editing, pensive.  

******

August 1981

“Molly, Mollywobbles, darling, it’s all fine now, you can hold him,”  Mr. Weasley says, pushing her limp hair off her face with his free arm.

Mrs. Weasley opens her eyes groggily, and Arthur, silhouetted against the bright white of the hospital wing, comes into focus gradually.  She shakes her head, trying to clear her mind of the Sleeping Serum and pushes herself upright.

“Are you alright love?  It was tough-going there for a bit, but everything’s fine now.  He’s beautiful, look at him!  Another perfect Weasley son.”  Mr. Weasley emphasizes several of the words slightly, hoping not to add to her disorientation.  

The usual pain-numbing Birthing Potion had some strange side effects-- including filling the room with bright blue bubbles which gleefully bounced around the room, causing Molly much distress-- so the Healers had to dose her with an emergency sleeping potion to finish delivering the child, which was a son, a beautiful darling son, but a son nonetheless.  Or so the Healers said.

He held out the small blue-wrapped bundle in his arms tentatively.

Molly glanced at it-- blue was for boys, whose child was this?-- “Another what?”  She cleared her throat, glancing from the child’s tuft of shocking red hair sprouting out from beneath the blue, then back up to Arthur’s balding red head.

“Another son, love,”  He says gently and hands the baby to her, “Ginalto Weasley is pleased to meet you at last.”

“Her name’s supposed to be Ginerva,”  Molly says absently, stroking the baby’s head.  It coos and hiccups, and a loving, wistful smile breaks out on Molly’s face.  “Oh darling child, but I suppose Ginalto will suit you just fine.”

Arthur watches her carefully.  I told you so, he thinks, but doesn’t dare voice aloud.  “I know you thought… Are you sure--”

“Now Arthur, don’t you start apologizing, because I knew those crackpot Muggle superstitions wouldn’t work, it just seemed so important to you to try, but you know a witch always knows best--”

“That’s not what I--”

“And don’t you dare ask me if I’m disappointed in this lovely child.”

“Of course not! Why would--”

“Our darling, perfect baby, I’ve known you for some time, but now you get to meet the rest of us.  Welcome to the family.”

Mr. Weasley shakes his head with a chuckle.  “Welcome.”

********

(scene about Mrs Weasley’s parenting style, being a worrywart, Ginalto is a delicate child but even-tempered or surprisingly resilient?, molly is protective)

********

July 1987

“Mummy, Ron keeps calling him Ginny, make him stop it’s not his name,” Percy whines, tugging on Mrs. Weasley’s skirt.  “I think Fred and George put him up to it.”

“Calling who what now?”  Mrs. Weasley says absently, sorting through the next load of laundry with one hand as a flick of a wand in her other puffs dry a clean pile of towels.  

“Ron’s calling Gino by a girl’s name, but he’s a boy, that’s not allowed,”  Percy says resolutely.

“You’re the older brother of both of them, so why don’t you explain to Ron that it’s proper to call people by their names?”

“I tried, but I think Fred--”

“Percy, hon, when you leave to Hogwarts next month, Fred and George won’t be there, but I’m sure-- Merlin help the prefects-- there will be other such troublemakers, and you won’t have me to sort out every squabble.  How about you ask Ron if he would like it if you called him Ronda instead of his actual name?  You can show him what a smart big boy you are.”

“I did, I tried, but George said that--”

With a misplaced flick of her wand, a towel exploded into a mushroom cloud of steam with a hissing wizz-WHOOSH!, interrupting Percy’s insistence.  Mrs. Weasley sighed, resignedly.

“Where is Bill when I need him…  Merlin, another two years before the twins are Dumbledore’s problem, oh goodness I’ll be getting owls every week... Sonorus!” She pointed at her throat and her voice magnified.  “FRED!  GEORGE!  Everyone to the laundry room!  NOW!”

A few minutes later, Fred and George skidded to a halt with Gino and Ron following at their heels at the door of where Mrs. Weasley and Percy stood waiting.  “Mum!  We were just de-gnoming the garden like you asked us!  We even taught both of them how to help--”

“Yeah!  Ginny’s really good, gets the gnomes straight through the window into the oven everyti--” Ron jabbered excitedly, as Gino gave a shy, proud smile.

“I told you!  I told you they were calling him--” Percy interrupted.

Mrs. Weasley placated Percy, gave a tired smile to Gino and Ron, then turned on the twins. 

“Your brother’s name is Gino, and I think he would appreciate it if you called him by his real name or so help me I will call you Fred and-- George--” She said angrily looking from one to the other.  One twin opened his mouth, but she interrupted him.  “Or rather George and Fred, then, the one that's not your own name, yes I know I know hardly proving my point here, but honestly it’s different, there’s no way to confuse Gino with anyone besides maybe Ron--”

“But he likes being called Ginny, he wants to be just like Ginny Gynnoficz when he grows up, you know Martin Miggs’s girlfriend in Fred’s comics, he told me himself!” Ron insisted earnestly.

“Gino is five years old, so maybe he only says that because you are his older brothers and are supposed to be ROLE MODELS instead of teaching him how to fling GNOMES into the KITCHEN.”  

Mrs. Weasley ignore Ron’s further protests and turned back to the twins.  “The oven, honestly.  Don’t think I don’t know you two put Ron up to this!  Stop teasing Gino, he’s a kind boy and doesn’t deserve you two making fun of him--”

“I do want to be called Ginny, it’s lovely, and Ginalto tastes like mothballs.”  Ginny said, speaking up for the first time in a quiet, tentative voice.

Silence hung in the air for a moment, for the first time all morning.  Percy frowned grumpily.

“See mum!  Ron told you--” Fred started.

“What a good kid, that Ginny, sticking up for all of us like that--” George continued.

“True and loyal Gryffindors, the both of them--”

“Although Ron’s still lousy at gnoming, you know they’ll fail him out of Hogwarts if--”

“That’s enough,” Mrs. Weasley said, silencing them with a glare.  “Now you two are going to finish with the garden by yourself.  Percy, just… mind your own business please.  and Ron, honey, be a dear and get Hadna Hellump’s Household Hexes from downstairs, I don’t think this drying spell is working right.”

They scampered off quickly, leaving Ginny behind, before Mrs. Weasley could realize that the oven was still full of gnomes.

Mrs. Weasley knelt down, so that they were face to face. “You’ll tell me if the twins call you anything you don’t like, right darling?  You don’t have to let them boss you around.”

Ginny nods solemnly.

Mrs. Weasley smiles, kisses her youngest child's cheek, her last child, then stands up.  “We did almost name you Ginerva, you know.  Ah well, my little Ginny then, why don’t you help me fold these towels?  There’s my good one, my sweet baby.”

*********

scenes:

Arthur-- shopping, wistful, stolen glances, corner of the eye Ginny

1st year, TOM RIDDLE, holy shit so much potential with this, Ginny spilling her secrets, the first time she's told anyone or even realized herself

the fact that ginny goes from shy/small/nervous and presumed boy, to outspoken clever ferocious tough girl...

hair, Bill Weasley grews his out!, Ginny wants to also

harry potter???

mrs. weasley finds various make-up potions missing then replaced… dressing up in skirts/etc?  mrs. weasley thinks f/g are pulling a prank, but obvs they’re not.  ginny later doesn't even like dresses that much, just what they signified.

mrs. weasley always wanted a daughter and is overjoyed to realize she was right all along. percy is obstinate at first but defends her at school, F/G have called her their sister for years, ron is just confused & supportive in a clumsy way.  (bill and charlie say good on ya! but ya know they’re not around much, all adults and such)  arthur researches muggle methods (hormone blockers, etc)-- wizarding world charms are patchy at best although there's old magic resurfacing

[mysticsparklewings]

I will be with You

When you go, just know that I will remember you If living was the hardest part, we'll then one day be together And in the end we'll fall apart, just as the leaves change in color And then I will be with you, I will be there one last time now --My Chemical Romance, "It's Not a Fashion Statement, it's a Deathwish" ____ It's rare that I'm this proud of an artwork I've created. ^_^ Usually, there's some glaring issue or just an assortment of small things I'd still change if I had the patience and/or artistic ability to do it. Or even just some things that I feel like could've been done better, even if I know it did the best I could. This time? No. Not right now, shortly after it's been completed, anyway. I'm sure years down the line from now I'll look back and feel at least slightly different. But as it stands now, while I'm sure it has its faults, I am truly happy and truly proud of what I've created here and whatever faults are there aren't bothering me at all. So what then is this, exactly? This my dear Sparklers is a visual love letter to the band I discovered just a little too late but was still there for me when no one else was all the same. Earlier this month, I uploaded a different piece of art to celebrate the announcement of My Chemical Romance's Return, but even when I uploaded that one I was already thinking of doing another one, this time something that was more obviously fan art. But not just fan art as I've done for them in the past (Exhibit A, Exhibit B, and Exhibit C), but something extra-special and fun. I really did go into creating this wanting it to be as I described it above; a visual love letter to this band that I love so much and could not be happier that they're back. As such, I've squeezed in as many references as I could: 1. The female figure is molded after Helena from the album Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge 2. The male/skeleton figure is supposed to be Pepe (that's what Google said his name was, anyway), the icon and seemingly marching band conductor from The Black Parade album 3. On Pepe's hat, I replaced the usual symbol with the Candle symbol that's been featured in the band's Return artwork 4. They fade into leaves based on the line from It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish (a song from Three Cheers) that I quoted at the top of the description 5. behind them is Party Poison's mask, as featured in the Danger Days music videos 6. on the mask, I replaced one of the black triangle shapes with the hanging man silhouette from I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love 7. The rest of the background is inspired by the covers for the Conventional Weapons releases (which in my mind I count as essentially an unofficial fifth album) (Debatable) 8. Their touching hands could be an indirect reference to the line "And as we're touching hands, and as we're falling down" from Demolition Lovers, a song from Bullets. That's at least one reference each (Three Cheers technically got two) for each of the main releases, plus one directly related to this new era we don't know much about yet. It's not an exhaustive "spot the reference" game, but I'm glad I was able to incorporate as many as I did. Now that I've explained them, maybe I can talk about my process without having to stop to re-explain each reference as they come up.   After some brainstorming, I got this image in my head of Helena and Pepe in this pose (inspired at least partially by this pre-existing fanart I've seen many times before) , which to me is a "renaissance dancing" pose but I'm sure there's some other better way to describe it I haven't thought of. I tried for a very long time to find a reference image of this exact pose to help me get the proportions and general anatomy right within my own stylization, but for the life of me, I couldn't find anything close enough to suit me and I really didn't want to have to settle for something else. As such, I'm sure the proportions and anatomy are off, but even so, I think I did pretty good considering. The main issues I ran into during sketching were mainly balancing the energy between the two characters--which I do think I managed in the end--Helena's skirt, as she's supposed to be holding onto it with that hand you can't see, and Pepe's torso. Originally, I was planning on doing this piece traditionally, but once the sketch was finished it almost immediately clicked into place that I'd be better served to do it digitally, considering what I wanted to do with the mask in the background already, as well as the leaf-fade. (The Conventional Weapons reference hadn't been planned yet, and it was technically only made possible later on by this piece being digital.) Luckily, doing things digitally meant that Pepe's torso was fixed pretty easily. It was too thin in the sketch, but all I had to do was select the right lines and move them out a bit in Photoshop. He's still a bit thin and not super buff, but personally I'm letting that go because...I mean, he's at least part if not all skeleton. If anyone's going to be too thin, wouldn't it make sense that it's him? Helena's skirt I did end up happy within the sketch but...we'll come back to the skirt in a moment. Pepe's...face? looked a bit odd in the sketch, but other than that, once I was happy with that foundation, I scanned it in and got to work on digitizing everything. I went over my lines for Helena and Pepe the way I normally would for something like this if a little intentionally messy instead of trying to get them super clean--as I thought that might be appropriate here--and then I paused with them to work on the mask behind them. The mask admittedly came out very poorly in the sketch, just because I bothered to look up no references for it whatsoever once I decided I was going to make this digital and I knew I could just draw half of it and flip it over. And I'm glad I didn't start trying to follow my sketch lines for it at all because looking up actual references showed me that would've been way off. While I had my reference up, I ended up going in and basically full-coloring and detailing the mask right then. That's the beauty of digital work; a lot of steps can be done basically out of order from how you'd have to do them traditionally and it doesn't matter because you can just move layers around and adjust effects later. I went with this pseudo-soft shading based on the colors and shadows I was seeing in my references, even though I wasn't sure yet exactly how I was going to shade Helena and Pepe. I figured that even if I used a different method for them that I could either go back and adjust the mask as necessary or that it wouldn't matter since the mask was part of the background anyway. Once that was done, I went back to ponder my two figures and the leaf effect that I wanted to do with them. And again, I went a little out of order here, as I ended up filling in the silhouette of Helena and Pepe with a blanket layer of gray so I could see how them blocking the mask was going to look (and I figured based on past experiences I might need the blanket layer in white later). From there, I went into working on the fading-to-leaves effect. My logic was that I'd need mostly the silhouettes of the leaves and then I'd get what I wanted after playing with layer effects or something. This assumption ended up being correct, but we're not there yet. As I worked, I kept looking at my "finished" messy lines. Something just didn't feel right. Honestly, I couldn't tell you where the idea to do this lineless look came from, but it got in my head as I was working and I kept looking at the lines I had and not being happy to just color those in as I normally would, shade it, and call it a day. I tried. I tried really hard to ignore the urge to at least try it and carry on as I was. I'd already come this far, and I'd be done so much faster if I stuck to the plan...But!! Clearly I lost that argument with myself. You know what though? I'm glad I did! I don't think I've ever done lineless art like this before, not counting my watercolor work where that's just part of the process to me. But digital? Certainly not. Human figures? Also no. I've come close in the sense that I've shaded my art before, turned off the line layers before, and thought, "oh hey that almost works without the lines because of the shading,"  but not much farther than that. Naturally, I wasn't even sure how or where to begin, so I went with what came naturally to me. I started by just filling in the lines as I normally would have, and then I went back layer by layer and went back and forth between having the line layer (with the opacity brought down somewhat already so I could sort of see what I was doing) on and off to try and balance the shapes between what they looked like with and without the lines. It's weird because if you ever try this, it's a little like having to figure out a bunch of individual silhouettes that make one whole one, except you need them to be a little more defined if you want them to make visual sense. That step and the next one, the shading, are tied in my mind for which one took me the longest. For the shading, I really just went in blind, using hard-edge cell shading, though originally I planning to come back with some soft shading in certain areas later. The soft shading ended up not happening partly because I liked it much better than I thought I would without it, and I thought the hard-edge shading made the figures pop a little more compared to the background. The thing about this was the same issue I run into with my lines nowadays; to get smooth shapes I spend a while going back and forth between putting color down and erasing it, and sometimes undoing and redoing the same line a dozen times to get it right in one stroke. But that's really my own fault for being stubborn and trying to work solely within Photoshop and not use other programs, as I know good and well I'd have less of that issue if I'd hop into Paint Tool Sai and use the linework layers in there. What can I say? I live up to my Capricorn sign by being as stubborn as a goat. Anyway. The biggest challenge to figure out the shading for was Helena's skirt. I think I would've still had issues with that though even if I colored and shaded my normal way, with the lines and everything. It's just the position it's in that complicates things. I actually did a good amount of shading in reverse here, where I'd make the base layer the shadow color and then the layer on top would be the regular color, as in some cases it just seemed easier to do that than the other way around. The part of Helena's dress around the top, for example. Or Pepe's pants (what little you can see of them). Additionally, I ended up leaving the feather attached to Pepe's hat alone and not really smoothing it out, as I thought the roughness and inconsistencies worked really well to make it seem more feathery. With enough patience and persistence and much back and forth among the various layers, I made it through all of that. I was a little concerned at first about some of my color choices and if the shading was too harsh in some places or not, but I mellowed out as I worked and ended up not making make adjustments after the fact. For instance, originally I thought I'd go back and make Pepe's...skin? closer to a true white and this fleshy off-white color was more of a placeholder, but the longer I worked with it, the more I didn't want to change it. It actually makes sense, given that his hands are normal (as they are presented in official artwork and other fan art not made by me) and that bones usually are naturally more of an off-white color. And I also think it just looks really good next to Helena's pale skin. The hands were a special challenge in regards to both shading and coloring, as hands like to be the more complicated part of a drawing more often than not, but even that I managed to get through with a lot more ease than I would've bet on. The other thing about that is that I was surprised once I got through the steps at how much better Pepe's face looked in comparison to the rest of the drawing. As I mentioned before, it looked odd in the sketch. But one I had most of the colors for him and Helena filled in digitally, the contrast or something just made it look infinitely better. (Combined with a hefty dose of earlier back-and-forth making adjustments to his jawbone area.) Originally, I thought I might use the same cell shading for Helena's eyeshadow. However, while I was still thinking of adding some selective soft shading, I added it using one of the brushes I'd used on the mask earlier. It looked so good to me that even after I tried added the soft shading with it like I planned and decided I didn't want/need it anywhere else, I kept it. And for the record, Helena's hair is kind of the wrong texture (it's officially more straight than this) and she's missing this little netted veil thing she's supposed to have, but I had a very specific vision in mind, so those were the two creative liberties I took with her design. I say it's fair game since I took a liberty with Pepe's hat to get the Return reference in. And besides, those two details being off doesn't make her totally unrecognizable if you know who Helena is in the first place. Once they were done, I spent longer than I bothered to document playing with the leaf layer I'd made earlier to try and figure out how to get the effect I wanted. Sparing you the boring details of my trial error, as I'm sure this description will be long enough without them, I eventually determined the best thing to do was to have one layer of the leaves on top set as an "overlay" layer, and another behind/beneath Helena and Pepe. Then I went back and extended my color and shading layers to extend down over the leaves, and I arranged and clipped the layers accordingly. Technically, the overlay layer wasn't necessary, but it added a little extra dimension that I really liked. By that point, it was my second day of working digitally and getting late, but I had to do one more thing before I could go to bed with my mind at ease that night. With Helena and Pepe done, I turned the mask back on (I'd turned it off so I could focus on them without it distracting me or otherwise getting in the way) and I felt like they weren't standing out enough against it. The bright yellow color was competing too much for my eyes' attention. So, after trying the "stroke" blending option in white and that looking God-awful, I added a new layer between them and the mask and manually gave them a white outline. It wasn't a perfect solution, and I knew that even then, but it was enough that I could sleep soundly knowing how far I'd gotten with the artwork. The next day I had to take a break from working on this to bust out a painting for the challenge I decided to take on this month, but I went back to this as soon as I could after that was taken care of. When I came back to it, I acknowledged that I technically could've left it as it was and call it finished. But I still didn't like how obnoxious the mask seemed for a background piece and it felt...I don't know. Almost hollow, in a way. It was a cool graphic, sure, but I wanting something more than that. Again, I'll spare you most of the nitty-gritty details. But long story short, I played around with layer effects and filters for a while until I had blurred the mask out just enough that it wasn't so obnoxious but also so looking at it directly didn't make me nauseous, and the edges were softened so it felt more like a true background piece and not just an accessory that had been plastered carelessly back there. It was only after I started saving off versions with different backgrounds--one with no background, one with white, one with black--that I realized I was missing a golden (semi pun intended) opportunity to incorporate a Conventional Weapons reference/allusion. Which was exciting because I'd previously been disappointed that I couldn't think of a good way to do that. I went back and forth on layer styles and adding texture with brushes and things for a while on that too, but you can see what I ultimately settled on. It's not a 1:1 to the CW covers, but I'm really pleased with it anyway. I did end up adding a bit more to the white outline in a few places and adding a drop shadow to Helena and Pepe so they'd pop a bit more (it almost makes them look like paper cutouts to me!), but really the only other thing I had to do after that was add my watermark. It took roughly 3 days of work from start to finish, but I was honestly surprised by how fairly smooth the process went. Especially considering the new things I'd tried along the way. I can only assume it's because of just how much my heart was really into making this piece. As I said before, I am truly proud of how this piece turned out. I love it. I love it, and I love the band that inspired its creation. Even the title says a lot here, I think. I picked this line that's repeated at the end of It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish, as it was a leading inspiration with the leaves and everything, and after looking at the lyrics I realized how fitting that line is for this. I discovered My Chemical Romance two years too late, two years after they broke up in 2013, but I've stuck by them ever since, and I will continue to do so, with whatever the unwritten future holds. They've changed, as anyone would over the course of six years, but they came back anyway. Even if it's just for a few shows and they're gone again. Or if it's going to be so much more than that. They. Came. Back. And that's not an easy thing to do a lot of the time. And so, I show my solidarity. I will be with you, MCR, no matter what comes next. You were there for me, and now it's my turn to be there for you, even if it as just another fan among the crowd. And that's really all I have to say on the matter. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[themurphyzone]

Oneshot: Perfect Child

Summary: Roger is polite, Heinz is not. Roger can charm the sternest military general, Heinz would just get himself booted out. Roger is an angel, Heinz is not. That's the way the world's works, right?

AN: This concept has been on the back burner for months but I think it would be interesting to do a little switcheroo, don't you think?

The award ceremony was today, and everything was perfectly in order. His kickball uniform had been lovingly ironed, his cleats were dust-free, and an empty spot on the mantle awaited an engraved trophy. 

His lucky red kickball was bouncy and clean, perfect for the kicking demonstration Roger would give when the coach called his name. 

"Good morning, Mother," Roger greeted as he walked into the kitchen. "Breakfast smells lovely today." 

Mother muttered something, pushing a hand to her face tiredly as she stirred the eggs. 

The motion drew Roger's eyes to her hair, which was tucked in a messy bun with several brown strands escaping their confines. That was odd. Part of Mother's morning routine involved spending forty minutes combing her hair into a perfect, neat bun. 

He filled the coffeepot with the correct amount of water. He prided himself on his ability to make coffee his mother liked. 

Father's coffee was harsh and bitter, an unforgiving mass of swirling black tar. He always claimed it was how real men took it. And if Heinz didn't blow up the coffeepot with some weird invention, his mugs tended to contain enough sugar to put an entire doonkleberry cheesecake to shame. 

Really, there was nothing hard about brewing the perfect mug for Mother. One scoop of beans, water to the third long black line, brew, pour into ‘Ich liebe Mutti’ mug, add one teaspoon of sugar and two tablespoons of cream. 

"Mother, your coffee's ready," Roger announced as he set the mug on a placemat. 

Mother didn’t fully wake up until she had her coffee. Roger was a skilled navigator when it came to handling her more irritable moods. Just say things she liked and the problem was solved. 

Father didn’t care for open displays of emotion. 

Heinz would frazzle her nerves the moment he opened his mouth. 

But Mother simply plated the eggs and potatoes, her back turned to Roger. There were three plates laid out. 

That wasn’t unusual. Heinz must’ve done something to earn a less tasty breakfast. 

Mother set the loaded plates on the table. Steam rose from the potatoes and eggs, filling the room with an enticing scent. Roger eagerly took his seat, closing his eyes and allowing the familiar smell of Mother’s cooking surround him. 

Mother glared at him. 

Roger just smiled. She hadn’t touched her coffee yet. Maybe she was so tired she mistook him for his crazy brother. “You make wonderful breakfasts,” Roger said amiably, figuring that compliments would cheer her up. 

Mother’s glare didn’t waver. 

Roger fiddled with the tablecloth, averting his eyes completely. Silence always worked when Father was angry. Stay quiet, stay still, and he didn’t notice. 

But Mother was never angry at him. She was perpetually frustrated with Heinz’s antics, but Roger didn’t do the sort of things that Heinz did. Roger didn’t test her boundaries, he didn’t blow stuff up, and he certainly didn’t question her decisions. 

Mother knew best. 

Heinz didn’t understand that. 

“Porridge is in the icebox,” Mother snapped. She yanked the plate of eggs and potatoes away. 

Roger’s stomach grumbled in protest, but he slid off his chair obediently and took out the bowl of cold porridge. There would be enough to satisfy his hunger, but it just wasn’t eggs and potatoes. 

She was probably concerned about his weight. He’d always been chubbier than his peers. 

He was halfway through with his bowl of porridge by the time Heinz walked into the kitchen. 

“Looks great!” Heinz exclaimed, shoveling eggs into his mouth at an alarming pace. 

Roger winced at his brother’s appalling lack of table manners. 

“So hungry!” Mother declared as she sipped her coffee. “Make sure you eat all of it. You’re too thin.” 

“Ye’th Mo’er,” Heinz said through a mouthful of potatoes. 

“Mother, may I have eggs please?” Roger asked. 

Mother’s smile evaporated. “Is the porridge not enough?” she barked. “You’re not starved. You’re not a common street whelp.” 

For a single, terrifying moment, Roger’s limbs wouldn’t work. His hands dug into the tablecloth, rooting him to the spot. He had to say something. 

Defuse the situation. Make her not angry anymore. 

What did he say if Heinz mouthed off and Mother was still angry after she punished him? 

“You’re right, Mother,” Roger agreed. “I apologize. I won’t ask again.” 

He avoided looking at Heinz’s plate, which had a second helping of eggs on it. 

Mother sniffed. “Your brother knows how to show gratitude. I carried you for nine months, the least you could do is appreciate it.” 

Heinz gulped loudly enough that Mother’s attention flickered to him. “I just got an idea I wanna sketch out. No idea what I’m calling it yet, but it’s gonna be cool. Roger can take the rest of my breakfast if he wants. Can’t wait much longer, see ya!” he yelled, shoving his plate in Roger’s direction before sprinting out of the room. 

Roger didn’t take the plate, half-afraid Mother would snatch it up before he could take a single bite. But Mother slid the plate in front of him. 

“Heinz is being generous. So don’t be wasteful,” Mother muttered. 

The eggs didn’t taste that great after all. 

As soon as he washed the dishes to Mother’s satisfaction (which took an hour), Roger knocked on Heinz’s bedroom door. Maybe his brother knew something he didn’t. Heinz tended to squirm if he felt guilty. He also rubbed his neck, avoided eye contact, and talked incoherently. 

Heinz was a terrible liar. No wonder he got punished so much if he couldn’t even hide the things he did. 

There was a muffled yelp from behind the door. 

It was taking a while for Heinz to answer, but Roger waited patiently. 

Then a harsh stomping of hunting boots against floorboards drew closer. Mother was probably too tired to protect him from Father. Roger was on his own.

Deciding that self-preservation overrode politeness, Roger wrenched open Heinz’s door, scrambled into the bedroom, and shut it behind him. He kept one hand on the doorknob, worried that Father had seen him and wanted to yell at him too. 

The footsteps faded away, and Roger breathed a sigh of relief. 

Heinz was frozen on his bed, his hands shoved underneath a thin blanket. The blanket couldn’t even hide a mouse, so it was unlikely the arrow-shaped lump would escape Mother and Father’s scrutiny.

After a long moment, Heinz fell back against his bed frame, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Don’t stomp around like Father for a joke!” he spat. “That’s not funny!” 

“Sorry to startle you,” Roger said, deciding to ignore Heinz’s thought process. He’d never understand what went through Heinz’s head anyway. “But Father and I would’ve crossed paths if I hadn’t ducked into your bedroom, and you saw how tired Mother was at breakfast. She’s not in a state to help me with Father.” 

“Ugh, can’t you talk normal?” Heinz groaned, pitching a pillow at Roger’s head. But since he didn’t have a good throwing arm, Roger didn’t even have to dodge. 

Roger had no idea what Heinz was talking about, so he ignored that statement too. “Why’s Mother so tired? What did you do this time?” he asked. 

Heinz clapped a hand to his mouth, but several giggles escaped him. “You think Mother’s tired? Seriously? That’s all you got from this?” 

“If she isn’t tired, then why is she acting this way?” Roger asked. “Does she have pills?” 

Pills had a tendency to make people act funny, Roger noticed. Frau Schulz once bought a bottle from a traveling peddler and hadn’t been the same since. Now everybody gave her house a wide berth because she tended to beat up passersby with a meterstick. 

“Nope! She doesn’t have pills! I zapped her with this!” Heinz hopped off the bed, pulling back the blanket to reveal a strange white device. “And you know what? It worked! She actually loves me now! I haven’t tested the waters with Father yet, cause I’d really prefer Mother to be there in the off-chance Father wasn’t affected, cause you’re not totally immune to his wrath either and I don’t wanna risk getting saddled with lawn gnome duty since that could potentially cause Mother to not love me anymore.” 

Heinz seriously thought that just because they needed to discipline him a lot meant that they didn’t love him? 

“Mother does love you,” Roger said. “You just think she’s unfair.” 

Heinz snorted. “Wow. You just don’t get it, do you?” 

“What exactly am I supposed to understand here?” Roger asked, all civility vanishing. “Mother was cross with me because of you. You need to go apologize for zapping her with that thing and for cooking up this scheme just to avoid getting grounded.”

Heinz growled. An actual growl that belonged more to a wild animal than an eleven-year-old. 

“I zapped them so they’d love me!” Heinz shouted, pushing his face into Roger’s to drive the point home. Roger wasn’t scared of him though. Father was a million times worse. “I don’t care about avoiding trouble! And they still love you too! The inator wasn’t designed so they’d hate you like they used to hate me!”

Heinz’s voice wavered as if he was trying to convince himself more than he was denying Roger’s accusation. 

“They don’t hate you,” Roger said, though he was certain his words would fall on deaf ears. “They’re trying to straighten you out so you don’t screw up in the real world.” 

Heinz shoved Roger towards the door, his face scrunched up in anger. “Get out!” he yelled. “You took everything! At least let me have a few square feet to myself!” 

Roger allowed Heinz to forcefully push him out, though it would just take one well-aimed kick to dislodge Heinz. But he didn’t see the point in getting physical. Words were a much more effective tool. 

“I’m letting Mother know you’re trying to avoid punishment,” Roger said calmly. 

The color drained out of Heinz’s face. He bit his lip, wringing his hands in nervous anticipation. “You can’t tell! I can’t get in trouble!” 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Roger declared as he marched down the stairs. He ignored Heinz’s cries of protest. 

Mother and Father were in the living room. Mother hummed to herself as she knitted a frilly pink dress, while Father cleaned his prized hunting knife. Eyeing the sharp object warily, Roger stuck close to Mother’s side of the room as he approached. 

“Mother, Heinz is lying again,” Roger said. Mother’s humming abruptly stopped, and she peered at him through half-lidded eyes. “He did something and now he’s scared that you’ll make him do more chores.” 

“Heinz does not lie,” Mother said. “Don’t accuse your brother of such things.” 

“He’s hiding something,” Roger added. He spoke slowly and enunciated each syllable, focusing on keeping his tone even and controlled. Adults only listened if a kid spoke like an adult. 

Mother set the frilly dress aside. She beckoned Roger over with her finger. He glanced at Father, but the man was completely focused on his knife’s metallic surface. Roger felt sweat on his palms, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t hot enough to sweat. 

His legs stiffened against his will as he stood in front of her. 

She did not pick him up, ruffle his hair, or smile. 

“I did not punish your ungratefulness at breakfast, nor your incompetence at washing dishes,” Mother said coldly. Her tone made Antarctica seem like a tropical paradise. “But if the next thing that comes out of your mouth is a lie about Heinz, I will tack on additional hours to your lawn gnome duty. Do I make myself clear?” 

He had lawn gnome duty. 

He never had to serve lawn gnome duty. 

Father tried to make him do a shift with Heinz once, but Mother pitched a fit. 

It’s too dangerous for Roger! she had cried. The witches are more interested in plump children! He won’t last out there! You’ll get more wear out of Heinz. The witches will find him repulsive. 

Father’s ‘BEWEGEN DICH NICHT’ had never been directed towards Roger, but he always felt an inexplicable urge to not breathe, not move, and not speak whenever the phrase was bellowed at Heinz. 

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” Mother snapped. 

He could compliment Mother. But that had nothing to do with the topic at hand. 

He could reason with her. But something told him logic was no match for Mother’s anger. 

He could apologize, though he knew he did nothing wrong. Heinz was hiding things. Mother always said hiding things was the equivalent of lying. Heinz was trying to avoid punishment, though Roger didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish in the long run. 

Don’t try to negotiate punishment, Roger had learned from observation. Adults didn’t like that. 

Yes, apologizing seemed like the best option. 

“I apologize,” Roger said quietly, his head bowed to make himself sound more sincere. 

It was completely unfair, but Roger didn’t dare say it out loud. 

“Mother!” a shrill voice yelled. 

Roger looked up, startled as Heinz barged into the living room. Heinz flew straight into Mother’s lap, settling on her skirt with a contented grin. He could only stare in disbelief as Mother hugged Heinz back, her mood brightening considerably. 

Father huffed at the affectionate display and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Upon hearing the loud bang, Heinz jumped, his knuckles turning white against Mother’s sleeve. But Mother continued to hold him, stroking his hair and whispering comforting words. 

Heinz only relaxed when it became clear that Father wouldn’t be returning anytime soon, but he still looked rather pensive.

An unpleasant feeling settled in Roger’s stomach as he watched Mother and Heinz talk to each other, laughing at things only they could understand. Mother never hugged Heinz. Heinz frustrated her. Naughty children got scolded, not hugged. 

Roger swallowed, daring to take one step closer. Mother and Heinz looked so comfortable...maybe there was room for one more. 

It might be a tight fit for Heinz and him to be on Mother’s lap at the same time, but they’d manage. 

Roger reached out, feeling the smooth fabric of Mother’s dress against his hand.

Then the dress was pulled out of his reach, and Mother drew herself to her full height, carrying Heinz in the crook of her arm. 

“Heinz needs me now,” Mother said, inclining her head as if she was watching a particularly annoying insect. 

Heinz’s mouth dropped open, and his gaze flickered between Mother and Roger, an odd expression on his face. “Mother...you can hug Roger too. Really, I don’t mind. Roger could use one too. I’m not really a baby anymore, and you always like hugging Roger, so...” 

Mother shook her head, gently silencing Heinz with a finger on his lips. “Roger hasn’t earned one. First, he tells me that you’ve lied to me. Even though you’re the most trustworthy child in the village. Everyone knows it. Now he demands things he hasn’t earned.” 

Heinz’s face turned red shamefully, and he refused to make eye contact with anyone. 

Roger said nothing. Mother had called him the most trustworthy child in the village once. All the other kids would lie, cheat, and steal. Roger had been raised better than that. 

“You will not be going to the award ceremony,” Mother continued. “I know you tricked the coach into giving you a trophy.”

The words tumbled out of Roger’s mouth before he could stop them. “But I’m the best player on the team! I earned that trophy, and everyone’s expecting me to be there! I can’t just-” his protests died away as Mother leveled a cold glare at him. 

“Would you like to argue and make it worse, or would you like to accept and be done with it?” she asked. 

She was right of course. Mother was always right. 

Wordlessly, Roger shook his head. 

Heinz had watched the entire exchange with an uncharacteristic silence, staring at Roger with pity written all over his face. 

Roger stared back at his brother, silently daring him to make the situation worse. 

Heinz was normally an open book. But now Roger couldn’t tell what his brother was thinking at all. 

“Mother, can we go to the ceremony?” Heinz finally asked. “Our neighbor Kenny is on Roger’s team, remember? I wanna go support him.” 

“What a sweet friend you are,” Mother told Heinz. 

Heinz smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Mother sighed, finally putting Heinz down. Roger was glad. The sight of Mother holding Heinz was too weird for him. “Very well. I suppose Roger will have to receive his trophy somehow. Otherwise, they’ll give the trophy to Frederick-” she spat the name as though it left a sour taste in her mouth “-and I’ll be forced to listen to Helga’s nonstop bragging at bridge club.” 

Every coach in Gimmelschtump and the surrounding villages knew of Mother and Helga’s rivalry when it came to cheering on their sons at kickball games, and no umpire dared challenge a call if Roger and Frederick were involved. The boys avoided each other out of embarrassment since they didn’t want to deal with their mothers’ antics. 

Heinz’s eyes turned pleading. “Can I just meet you and Roger at the field? I want to go buy Kenny a present, and there’s still a little time, and Roger needs to put on his uniform anyway, so...”

He was fibbing again, though Mother didn’t seem to notice. Roger bit his tongue to prevent another slip of the tongue, wondering why he had to be saddled with a chronic liar for a brother. 

Mother smiled. An actual, warm smile.

But it wasn’t for Roger. 

“I’ll give you a few coins for your present,” Mother said, bending down and planting a kiss on Heinz’s forehead. “Wait here.” 

Mother kept money in her dresser, and the boys knew better than to venture into the master bedroom without explicit permission. Even Heinz, who often demonstrated that rules were meant to be broken, never crossed this line.

Before Roger could stop him, Heinz used the opportunity to grab the device he claimed he used to make his parents love him. 

“What are you doing?” Roger asked, in his best you-didn’t-listen voice. “She said to wait here!” 

Heinz scowled as he grabbed a worn coat from the closet, buttoning it up to his chin to conceal the device. “I have to zap them again. While they’re not doting on me. It’s kinda gross. How do you put up with it? Well, Mother at least. Father still avoided me. The only thing he did was not force me to be a lawn gnome today.” 

“You’re zapping them cause you can’t handle the responsibility?” Roger asked. 

Heinz snorted. “You’re just a dumb kid. What do you know? I don’t wanna deal with you moping anymore, got it? Mother doesn’t like to wait. I’d hurry and put on my uniform if I were you. And I need to zap Father first, so don’t tell Mother where I’m actually going.” 

Roger trudged to his room. The uniform and kickball were right where he left them, but he didn’t feel like going to the ceremony anymore. 

Mother didn’t praise his kickball skills on the way to the field. She refused to hold his hand, making him walk several steps behind her. 

Roger assumed Heinz had gone to Herr Freitag’s house, where Father played cards on Thursdays. He wasn’t exactly sure how Heinz planned on getting in, or how he would aim at Father. Heinz tended to botch the simplest tasks, so he didn’t have high hopes of Heinz succeeding. 

Then again, Roger wasn’t sure what Heinz was hoping to accomplish by hitting their parents with a laser beam. 

A wooden stage had been set up next to the pitcher’s mound, his teammates milling around their parents as Coach Weiss made the final preparations. Folding chairs were set up for the audience, and Mother took her seat in the back row. 

Mother used to sit in the front. 

Helga, a woman with a rather bulbous nose, scoffed at Mother as she passed. Frederick curtly nodded at Roger, refusing to look at Mother. Most kids were scared of her for some reason. 

Roger didn’t speak to any of his teammates as they were seated in their designated area. He clutched the hem of his shorts as Coach Weiss greeted the audience. 

There was a trophy for everyone on the team, with their position listed below the name. There were also trophies for Best Kicker, Most Team Spirit, and Future Hall of Famer, in addition to the large championship trophy that would go into the village’s archives for everyone to gawk at when they found the time. 

“I’d like to call our star player up to the stage first!” Coach Weiss boomed. “In all my years of coaching, I have never met a child gifted with such skills! Come on up, Roger Doofenshmirtz!” 

Roger loved attention. But there was no clapping or whistling from the person whose attention he wanted most of all. He could barely see Mother, even as he ascended the steps. But he knew her posture was stiff, her hands folded in her lap. 

She was looking at the entrance of the field rather than the stage. She was probably more concerned at how Heinz hadn’t shown up yet. 

Roger felt no joy as Coach Weiss passed the trophy to him. 

“Your mother get cursed or something?” Coach Weiss asked. Unfortunately, he caught the audience’s attention too. People whispered as they brainstormed Mother’s strange behavior. She was usually the loudest one in the audience. 

Even the outfielders normally heard everything she screamed. 

Roger forced himself to smile and bow graciously, and the whispering died down. He just needed to get the audience to believe that nothing was wrong. 

Today was just a weird day and everything would soon be normal and forgotten. 

Eventually, all the general trophies were passed out. Roger gritted his teeth. It had ended too soon. Now they’d be handing out the truly special trophies. 

“Frederick has earned the Most Team Spirit award!” Coach Weiss announced. 

Helga screeched like a banshee as Frederick rushed up to the stage, his cheeks resembling a tomato. He quickly thanked Coach Weiss and hurried back to his seat. He kept his head down and refused to look at his mother, who bragged loudly to several nearby annoyed parents. 

Mother didn’t take the opportunity to brag about him. 

“One very bright little boy has surpassed expectations. Under normal circumstances, the Kickball Committee for Youths only allows one special trophy per player. However, I requested special permission to allow one of our gifted athletes to receive two special trophies. They sent a representative to sit in at one of our games, and he was blown away by the remarkable aptitude of this player!” 

Special. Remarkable. 

None of the other boys on the team received compliments like that. Kenny was average, and while Frederick was good, he wasn’t that good. 

“I proudly present Roger with the Best Kicker and Future Hall of Famer trophies!” 

Roger didn’t want to look at Mother, not wanting to see her disappointment stain his achievements. But he did anyway. 

A movement behind her caught his eye, and Roger watched curiously as Coach Weiss boasted of Roger’s kickball prowess. The tip of a metallic device poked around a corner, and a red beam of light struck Mother. 

Everyone was too busy clapping at Roger (or in Helga’s case, sulking) to notice the strange light. 

Coach Weiss deposited the two trophies in Roger’s arms, but Roger barely noticed their combined weight. 

Mother blinked, confused by the clapping audience in front of her. Then she stood up and looked at the stage. 

Roger’s breath hitched as he and Mother stared at each other. 

After a long moment, she shrieked in delight and dashed towards the stage. 

“Roger! That’s my son!” she exclaimed. “I’m so proud!” 

Roger laughed as she picked him up, setting him on her shoulders. 

Mother was back. Mother was back and that was all he wanted. The trophies were nice additions, but they paled in comparison to a mother who would cheer for him in kickball. 

While Mother and Coach Weiss whisked Roger away for pictures, he caught a glimpse of his brother. Heinz was partly hidden behind a bleacher, tears streaming down his face as he choked out something inaudible, but Roger recognized the lip movements, having seen the same motion uttered a million times before. 

I love you, Mother. 

Camera after camera took pictures of Roger, and he smiled for each one. But by the time he looked back, Heinz had run off. 

The strange device had been broken beyond repair. 

The remaining pieces were trampled into the mud. 

Heinz was punished with five hours of lawn gnome duty and dusting the permanently filthy shed as a result of interrupting Father’s card game, stealing money from Mother’s dresser, and arguing about the unfairness of it all. 

Mother was loving and kind and Father was Father. 

Everything was normal again. 

Epilogue

Roger remained close to Mother, taking the time to visit her though his schedule was packed with social engagements and mayoral duties.

Mother was loving and firm, a source of encouragement when he needed it most.

But there had been a day when her loving nature seemed to vanish, his security net swept away by a roaring tide of uncertainty.

No, the stress of campaigning was causing him to believe things that weren’t true.

That day had been nothing more than a fever dream.

AN: Heinz probably learned the hard way that science is no substitute for loving parents. That’s why he never targeted his parents with a scheme in the show. Sadly, there’s no way he’ll ever get their love and respect. Not the way he wants. 

Roger can’t even consider the truth about his parents. Better for him to believe his mother is a loving mother than accept that his mother was a monster. 

[junionigiri]

Work In Progress [BNHA] [Preview of Chapter 1!]

Rating: T for strong language (since Bakugou is in it )

Summary: For the year’s Interscholastic Fantasy Festival, Class 2A is working on a musical! The reluctant Bakugou is assigned to work on the script with Uraraka, who proves to be a more eccentric writer than he thought.

Relationship: Kacchako <3

Notes/Warnings: This is a preview of a part of chapter 1. Since there’s the main story and the story within the story, the chapters are pretty darn long. I’ll start publishing the chapters in full once I’m five chapters in ^^’ Apart from Bakugou’s language and liberal 4th wall breaks I don’t think there’s anything to worry about in this fic~

Bakugou seriously did not want to work on Uraraka’s dumbass script. It’s not that he was bad at writing--in fact, beyond his good grades, he knew he was pretty good at it. Principal Nezu had personally informed him that the essay he submitted on “Why I Want To Be A Hero” was one of the most well-composed ones he’s ever read.

It’s just that Bakugou hated fantasy. And hated fiction-writing (because fiction was not real, therefore it was a waste of his fuckin’ time).

Most of all though, he hated having to work with other people to achieve any kind of common goal. Look at his damn stats for cooperativeness in the character book and anyone with half a brain would get it. And to cooperate for a stupid ass waste of time like the Fantasy Festival? Who the hell thought up of the stupid Fantasy Festival anyway?! Weren’t there more important things in society to worry about?

And the fact that he was working with Uraraka fuckin’ Ochako was in itself pretty aggravating. It’s not that he hated her--in fact, she was one of the few to earn Bakugou’s (grudging) respect, since their infamous Sports Festival encounter when they were first years.

However, since their encounter at the festival, Uraraka learned not to be the tiniest bit afraid of him anymore. He knew that this girl wouldn’t be the type to just shut up and do what he tells her to, and he really didn’t feel like making such an effort just to write a stupid play.

But now that he knew that fuckin’ All Might was counting on him to write the script, well… he couldn’t get out of it now, could he? Bakugou was many things, but a disappointment to All Might, he’d rather not be.

So that was how he found himself stomping his way away from the common areas to his room, with Uraraka bouncing right behind him. They were going to sit down there to look over her draft, but it was overrun by the costumes, set-design, and props people with all their shit.

“Why your room?” Uraraka said, huffing as she struggled to keep up with Bakugou’s pace. “I don’t think girls are allowed there…”

“Let ‘em try to kick you out, Round-Face,” he growled as he tapped on the elevator button impatiently.

“If you say so, Explodey-face,” she teased, earning her a growl which was received with a giggle. This was what Bakugou was talking about. This damn girl knew no fear.

They eventually made it to his room, with Bakugou stomping the entire way and Uraraka skipping like an oblivious little red riding hood romping through the forest with a picnic basket, the purest picture of ignorance and innocence, unwitting of the ravenous wolf who lurked in the foreboding shadows of the dark, nightmarish wood.

Ugh. Really, Bakugou? Already gearing yourself up to write this fuckin’ fantasy shit? You guys haven’t even sat down yet. Don’t be too fuckin’ eager. 

“Uwaa, your room’s amazing, Bakugou! I didn’t think it would be so neat and sparkly~”

Much to his annoyance, Little Pink Riding Cheeks was already making herself right at home next to his desk. He felt a vein or two pop over his forehead, like in animes if they were in an anime. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be neat and sparkly?! You expect a guy like me to just live in a dump?!”

“I’m just sayin’, I wish my room was as neat. I knew you were great at lots of things, but even cleaning?” she said wistfully. “Hey, I have an idea! Next time, let’s go to my room, and--”

“I ain’t helping you clean your damn room, Round-Face.”

She pouted and innocently twiddled her thumbs. “I -wasn’t- going to say that, but, you know, now that you mentioned it…”

He grit his teeth so loudly Uraraka gasped and asked him if his teeth were okay. “Let’s just…!!! Get this fuckin’ script over and done with already!”

“Eh, fine, fine. Sorry for teasin’ ya! Watch yer blood pressure, a’ight?” She reached over to open her bag and pulled out a messy folder that was crumpled, filled to its limit with papers with tags pointing in all directions. A post-it with a messy scrawl on it flew out as she pulled out the mess. “So, this is what we’re gonna be workin’ on!”

“What the fuck is that mess? Did you fuckin’ sit on it and flush it down the toilet and set it on fire?”

“How rude!” Uraraka puffed her cheeks. “I only sat on it once! On accident! And I don’t bring homework to the toilet! That’s just unladylike.” She opened up the folder and revealed a disorganized array of handwritten scripts scrawled on legal pad, post-its, sketches, more post-its, reference photos of their classmates with post-its on them, receipts, a grocery list, and a few folded-up paper bags from Tokyu Hands.

Bakugou’s fingers itched. He spent so much energy restraining himself from fixing the mess that was now taking over his desk that he barely heard Uraraka’s spiel.

“So, in the meeting which you missed, we drew lots. Everyone’s working on the production and stuff but all of us will be acting in the play too. Some of us bit parts and stuff, but yeah. I asked everyone what they wanted their roles to be. Based on those ideas, I sketched out my ideas on what their characters would be.”

She pulled out the sketches, and Bakugou had to admit, they weren’t badly done. He would go so far as to say that she might have a talent in drawing. They were scratchy and messy, but Uraraka seemed to place great care in drawing out the likeness of each classmate, and the details of each character and costume and even background information were at least 70% fleshed out for each of them.

“So based on the lottery, Deku-kun’s the lead character. You, me, Tsuyu-chan, and Todoroki-kun are gettin’ large roles, plus we gotta pay attention to All-Might-sensei’s important cameo. We’re gonna write the story based on all of this! And, if we want to allot time for practice and stuff, we have to finish most of the script in a week!”

“The f-- I’m gettin’ a large role too?! Nobody said that!”

“It ain’t my fault you weren’t at the meeting, Bakugou-kun.”

The blonde boy scowled as he went through the sketches. The fucking nerd Deku’s role was that of a ‘Squire’ (but his costume made him look like a fucking hobbit). Uraraka had a hood (fuckin’ coincidence from his red riding hood fantasy earlier) and a staff, and she was a ‘Mage’. Frog was a froggy lookin’ barmaid. IcyHot was a Prince (probably of the Land of Half and Halfs where people were always shitty and constipated). All Might was a Legendary Knight in exile (also fitting, in a morbid sort of way).

And Bakugou was… a Bard. His sketch had him wear fuckin’ poofy pants and a stupid fuckin’ hat with a feather on it and a stupid shitty tiny harp that the chubby babies in those old fuckin’ European paintings had. He all but made the paper disappear from a blast from his fist. “Oi, Roundface. Who’s the fucker I gotta kill besides you for giving me this pansy-ass role?!”

“Hey, it’s your fault. You weren’t there yesterday.” Uraraka repeated, not even the least bit apologetic. “And that thing you destroyed was a brilliant joint effort between me, Kirishima-kun and Kaminari-kun. Nice goin’, Explodey-face.”

“Fuck y’all! I’ll kill those idiots!” He shredded the paper further. “Gimme that pencil!” Within seconds, he sketched out something different, muttering expletives the entire time. After he was done, he dumped the pencil on the desk, almost breaking it into tiny little pieces.

Uraraka gasped. “Wow, Bakugou! That’s really impressive! A Dragon Tamer, huh?” She traced his sketch with one finger, which showed him with a fur cape, tattoos, a necklace made of the fuckin’ skulls and teeth of his enemies, pants and boots, and lots of fire blazing in the background for extra badassery. She grinned at him teasingly. “So you have been thinkin’ about this so-called fantasy shit too!”

“Fuck you,” he said, shoving her in the face unceremoniously. “Now I know that I gotta change that fuckin’ script of yours. Let’s just get this fuckin’ shit over with.”

“Okay…” Uraraka pulled out the legal pads, but shielded them from Bakugou. “Um. Just so you know, Bakugou, these are really, really, rough drafts, okay?”

His jaw jutted out in annoyance. “The fuck you mean by rough drafts. I thought I was just gonna edit your shit.”

She gave him a ridiculous look. “Well, you are. But also, I started workin’ on this just a week ago sooooo you gotta help me finish like a teeny bit of it.”

“How fuckin’ teeny do you mean.”

“Um. Like. 50% of it, mmmaybe…?”

Bakugou could almost see the smoke coming out of his own fuckin’ nostrils.

“Anyway, that’s exactly why we can’t waste anymore time, right?” said Uraraka, a positive beam glowing out of both ears. “And don’t you worry! The story’s practically finished in my head!”

There’s probably nothing in there but a single light bulb struggling to survive, thought Bakugou in annoyance. He put his palm to his face and tried his hardest not to yell at her. “Fine, Uraraka. Let’s just fuckin’ start already. No matter what, I’m kickin’ you out of my room by 10 PM.”

“Okay! Glad ya see it my way, Bakugou-kun!” She smiled and pulled out the first page of the script, which read:

*

 - Deku and the Final Fantastic Lord of the School of Wizardry!: The Legend of the Airbender’s Song of Ice and Fire -

(A Work in Progress)

Act One, Scene One: In Which Deku-kun Leaves His House and Adventure Begins

Written by: Uraraka Ochako

 *

“The fuck? Are you trying to outdo Class B’s lameass play from the last year’s cultural festival, Round-face?”

 “It’s a work in progress! We can edit it out later.” Uraraka said as she scribbled Explodey McSplodeface next to her name on the by-line.

[mrsjihyunkim]

🌹Flowers & Ink🌹Ch 1

Ok so this was inspired by @v-dcc​ of V as a tattoo artist. Like I’m so in love with this that I made it my desktop. Any way here is the first chapter and I hope I do this art justice. Definitely going to be more to come of this story! Also this is pretty long so I put a cut in it and the story tag is going to be F&I 

       The sun shined in the window and spilled onto V's face. He groaned and threw and extra pillow at the window. This only knocked down the blinds and V put his head under the last pillow. If there was one thing he disdained more than women it was mornings. He was at the shop until like three in the morning working on a cherry blossom piece. The girl had done nothing but flirt with him the entire time so by the end of it he was in a sour mood. Now that he was up it was pointless to try and sleep. So after getting dressed and grabbing his coffee, he headed to his shop. As he was unlocking the door to the shop he noticed that people were moving stuff into the shop next to his. It peaked his curiosity but he'd see it eventually so he just went about business as usual. He only had four appointments today but that's usually how it was. V liked to get to know the person he was working so he could make sure they got the best tattoo. He went to the back and saw his apprentice struggling to make coffee. "Do you still not know how to use the coffee machine Yoosung?" The blonde boy put down the pot and threw his hands up.

"It's not my fault you have such a stupid fancy coffee maker! Like I don't even get why you have it cause you never use it." V handed him thermos of coffee and Yoosung snatched it. "Why accept the gift if you're not going to use it?" Yoosung drunk the coffee and sighed.

"I accepted it because it was the only way to get that woman to leave me alone." Yoosung shrugged.

"Yeah she was persistent. I still don't understand why you just didn't go out with her." V shot him a look and Yoosung dropped it.

"Anyway, did you sleep here last night?" Yoosung was still wearing his clothes from yesterday and he blushed a little.

"Yeah but only because that session lasted so long. I would of just had to come back here by the time I got home, so I slept in the back." V rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well go on and head home, and shower. The first appointment isn't until noon so I don't need you right now. And you know you don't have to be here every morning before me right?" Yoosung nodded at him and smiled.

"Yeah but I like to cause I can get some practice in before you take over." Yoosung was beaming with pride and it made V smile. Yoosung’s energy was sometimes annoying but he was hard working and that’s all that mattered to V.

"Whatever. Just go home and get cleaned up. This maybe a tattoo shop but we still have an imagine to maintain." As Yoosung was leaving he saw Vanderwood coming in.

"Careful Vandy he's a bit cranky." Yoosung passed by Vanderwood and out the door before he could be asked anything. So Vanderwood walked in and treaded carefully. V had on his glasses and was nose deep in a notebook when Vanderwood found him.

"Why is Yoosung leaving? Are you not opening the shop today?" V barely looked up from his notebook.

"He slept here last night so I sent him home to get cleaned up. Why are you here?"

"Damn dude. You really are a sour puss today." Vanderwood set a white paper bag on the table. "I brought you some breakfast. Maybe that will put you in a better mood." V glared at him but sighed. He set down the notebook and took his glasses off. They clattered against his dog tag necklace as he grabbed the bag. "So what's got you in a sour mood granny?"

"I told you not to call me that, and I'm not in a bad mood. I'm just tired." V took the doughnut out of the bag and Vanderwood just shrugged.

"Could of fooled me. And if you don’t want to be called that then don’t wear a granny chain." Vanderwood had known V since he opened the shop. Not only was Vanderwood the one who sold it to him but owned the car garage at the end of the block. So he knew when V was in a grumpy mood. "Let me guess. Someone flirted with you and all you did was get annoyed." V shot him a look and Vanderwood felt a chill go down his spine. "That's a yes. Excuse me for not giving you an sympathy. Most guys would love being such a chick magnet." V tossed the rest of his doughnut in the trash and got up. Vanderwood sighed and decided to drop the subject.

"Don't you have your own shop to open? I'll walk you out." V headed for the front and Vanderwood followed. He knew better to fight V when he was in a mood. When they got outside the shop V noticed a car full of flowers parked next door. While Vanderwood continued to babble V looked at the car and noticed how the light reflected inside the car and he could see the depth of it. Without even thinking he walked over to the car and peered inside. Every seat except for the driver was covered in flowers. There were daffodils, roses, lilies, even succulents and cacti. There were probably more but he couldn't tell. He was so busy looking at the flowers that he didn't notice the brown haired woman standing behind him tapping her foot.

"Excuse me but do you mind? I need to get in there." V turned around and saw a woman in khaki pants and black tank top standing behind him. He moved out of her way and she opened the car door. She grabbed an arm full of flowers and V could see her struggling. Normally V avoided getting into other people's business but the flowers had him curious.

"Do you need any help?" The woman stared at him and raised an eyebrow. To V she almost seemed suspicious and he regretted ever asking. "Or not. Just thought you had a lot in there and would want some help." He shrugged and put a hand through his hair.

"Oh thanks but it's ok. I have a cart to use inside but these already cut and need to be in some water. Putting them on the cart would only smash them." She turned on her heel and headed back into her shop. V for better lack of words was stunned. She didn't try to hit on him or anything, and she just flat out refused him. He walked back to his shop and just completely ignored the smile on Vanderwood's face. When he got back inside he grabbed his notebook and went to sit outside. His brain was just telling him to stop but he really wanted to draw the flowers. So he watched and drew as his new neighbor set up flowers and paid him no mind. At least that's what V thought but MC was very much aware. In fact she was so aware that she was arranging the flowers in the best way for him to draw. She was a little creeped out by it at first but didn't mind when she realized that he was drawing the flowers. Time flew by as V did sketch after sketch of the different arrangements and before he knew it he saw his first client coming up to the shop. MC watched as her new neighbor greeted a tall slender guy with long grey hair. They went back into the shop and MC sighed in relief. She was turning around when she ran smack into a younger blonde boy. They both crashed to the ground and MC's watering can spilled all over her.

"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I'm running late and you turned around so fast that I couldn't get out of the way. Are you ok?" MC looked at the blonde boy and really wanted to cuss him out but she could he was just a kid, and he looked like he was about to cry. She let out a sigh and stood up.

"It's alright. Spilling water comes with the job." She smiled at him and that only made Yoosung feel worse.

"My name's Yoosung Kim. I work at the tattoo shop next door. You've probably already met my boss V. He's the guy with the blue hair" Yoosung seemed so proud of the fact that he knew him. It made MC curious though because V seemed like a giant ass but Yoosung seemed like an innocent little kid. Maybe she had misjudged V.

"I'm MC. I just opened my flower shop here." She gestured to the building beside her and Yoosung smiled. He was about to say something when V's voice called out his name.

"Shit. Gotta go. Nice to meet you MC!" Yoosung called as he ran to the tattoo shop. V watched as Yoosung ran over this way and noticed that the girl was soaking wet. Once they were inside Yoosung began to talk really fast. "Sorry I'm late V. I accidently knocked down MC and she got soaked." V pretended not to care but he was a little happy to know her name now.

"You're still late and Hyun's already here." When they got to the back the man with long silver hair was sitting at a table looking through some sketches. He looked up and smiled at the two.

"Hey Yoosung! What's up?" Yoosung gave him a high five and started getting V's equipment out.

"Hey Zen. Not much really. I did get to meet the cute florist next door so that was exciting." Zen's eyes looked up from the sketches in surprise.

"Really now? Did you get her number?" Yoosung blushed and shook his head. "You're killing me man! You know I gotta live vicariously through others. I'd do it through V but he treats women like the plague." V rolled his eyes pulled his hair into a messy ponytail.

"Did you decide which design you want Hyun?" Frowning at V's lack of a reaction Zen nodded.

"Yeah I want this one. It has the romantic feel I'm going for." He handed V a sketch and it was one he had done of MC's roses earlier. As V transferred it to the stencil he couldn't help but smile. As V worked Zen turned his attention back to Yoosung. "So why didn't you get her number Yoosung?" He just shrugged as he got the rubbing alcohol and began to prep where Zen wanted the tattoo.

"Well for one I completely knocked her on her ass and she spilled water all over her. I didn't think that would be the best time to hit on her. Plus she seems like one of those people who is nice but also scary. Like when I crashed into her I thought she was going to cuss the shit out of me. Even though she smiled I could tell that she was pissed." V was listening to Yoosung's every word despite telling himself that he didn't care. There was something about MC that bugged him but he couldn't figure it out. She definitely wasn't like women that he was used to but that really didn't mean anything to him, or did it. Either way right now he needed to focus and do his job.

"Alright Hyun. You ready?" Zen nodded and V began his work. He worked for almost three hours before feeling satisfied to stop for the day. He had done the basic outline of the piece and some shading. V cleaned off the tattoo and smiled at Zen. "What do you think?" Zen hopped off the table and went over to the mirror. He twisted so that he could see the roses and vines on his ribcage. There was a mirror, microphone, and a stack of paper all inbedded in the vines.

"It's awesome V! This just might be my favorite one now." V rolled his eyes but smiled.

"You say that every time." V took his gloves off and threw them in the trash.

"Well that's cause you do fucking kick ass work!" He slapped V's hand they slid into a fist bump. "Alright I'm gonna home and take some new selfies. Take care guys!" He left just as V's next client was coming in. After Zen V's appointments seemed to go by pretty fast and before he knew it he was on the last one. It was a smaller piece. The woman had wanted a cancer ribbon and a few flowers in honor of her mother who just passed away. When it was done she cried and V felt his heart lift at her joy. Once she was gone V sat down and sighed. He was so beat that he might sleep here tonight.

"Hey Yoosung." The blondes head popped in the door way. He almost reminded V of a puppy. "Go ahead and go home. I'll clean up tonight. Also make sure you practice tonight. You've got an appointment tomorrow." Yoosung eyes lit up like fireworks and he was barely stopping himself from bouncing up and down.

"Are you for real? I actually get to work on someone tomorrow?" V nodded and Yoosung squealed. "I won't let you down boss!" V waved his hand toward him and Yoosung took off. Once V heard the jingle of the doorbell he got up and started cleaning. He changed all the trash and wiped down all the tables. Just as he was about to start cleaning his tattoo gun he heard the doorbell.

"Sorry we're closed now." He said as he made his way to the front. When he got there he found MC standing there. She looked tired and V wondered what she was still doing here so late. "I hope you don't want a tattoo cause we're closed." She seemed dazed but her eyes snapped open when he was done talking.

"Oh no. I figured you were closed but I was hoping that you had a first aid kit." V looked closer now and noticed that she had a towel wrapped around her hand. She also had red smears on her smock.

"Yeah just a second. Try not to bleed on the floor ok." V turned his back to her and she just frowned. He sounded like an asshole but MC wasn't surprised. Most men were assholes, especially when they were that good looking. V came back and handed her a first aid kit. "So what happened?" V's question surprised her because he didn't really seem to care about anything.

"Oh. I tripped over a box and fell down with a bunch of vases. Talk about an omen." She let out a small laugh but V could tell that she was upset. "Anyway, thanks for the first aid kit. I'll bring it back over tomorrow." She smiled and turned around to leave and V saw some red seeping through the side of her shirt. Before he could stop himself he was reaching out for her and grabbing her shoulder. MC stopped and looked back at him, clearly shocked.

"I'll come with you. I'd feel guilty if you got clumsy again and bled out." He pushed her out of the shop and locked his door.

"It's ok really. I mostly got it cleaned up. I just needed some bandages." She tried her best to convince him but it seemed like he wasn't even listening. They got to her shop and she sighed. V looked around the shop once he was inside and it honestly looked like an indoor garden. "I fell down over there." She pointed over toward a fridge with a glass door. V grabbed a broom that was next to the counter.

"Alright just sit down and take care of those cuts." MC nodded and V walked over to the fridge. He noticed that she had in fact moved all of the glass into a pile. Using the broom he swept the glass into an empty box and carried it up to the front. MC seemed completely spaced out and seemed a little pale. V looked at the towel she had wrapped her hand in. There was a lot more blood than he expected and wondered if she was ok. He was honestly surprised by his concern and didn't really know what to do. "Hey are you sure you're ok? Is there someone that you need me to call or anything?" MC had been feeling a bit dizzy but V's voice helped her snap out of it.

"Oh no I texted my roommate and their on their way over. She just had to finish work so she should be here soon. Thank you for your help though. I hope it wasn't a bother." V just shrugged and MC went to hand him back the first aid kit.

"Keep it. We have more at the shop. Plus you obviously need it more than I do." She huffed out a breath and V just turned around a left. Something about that girl made him act weird and he didn't like it. The last thing he needed was more complicated feelings. MC watched him leave and she was still angry at his implications. This guy was definitely an asshole and nothing could change her mind.

[shybunnystudios]

waiting for superman | h.h. bh6

Hey :3 I’m gonna post some old Hiro fics I have on my Wattpad, I hope you guys like it. This was actually the first fanfiction I ever posted in my life hahah

I recommend you to listen to the song by Daughtry that has the same name as this one shot while reading it, enjoy!

P.s: I’m sorry if your name is Laura, it was the first name that came to my mind. You can pretend it’s another name you make up with.

~ gif is not mine ~

Hiro X Reader | songfic - fluff w/ a bit of angst

Word count: +3k (yeah, this one is pretty long)

"Hello?"

"Hey (Y/N)! It's me, Laura!"

"Oh... hey Laura, what's up?"

"I'm throwing a party at my place today-"

"Forget it, I'm not going."

"Let me finish! It will be just me, you and the rest of the gang, no strangers I promise."

You were being cold with your friends lately, since the time you talked to them about dating and stuff like that. They made fun of you because you're waiting for the right person while they're out there hanging out with the wrong people and doing other things you wish they never said anything about.

They changed a lot the past few years, you're being pushed away because of this 'way of life' of theirs. It was the total opposite of you, but you still did love them like they still were those pubescent weirdos you used to hang out with in high school... So you gave in just to make them happy, because that's how you are.

"Fine... I'll be there in 30 minutes."

You put on a Marvel shirt, a pair of jeans, red sneakers and go out for the first time in...You don't remember the last time you went outside.

She's watching the taxi driver, he pulls away

She's been locked up inside her apartment a 100 days

When you finally made it to Laura's you were welcomed with puns about how long your friends haven't seen you mixed with puns about the characters in your shirt. Calm down (Y/N), that's how they are, let them speak and just swallow, it hurts but you can't disappoint them so force a laugh.

"Finally! I haven't seen you in ages!"

"I started to think I'd have to get inside a movie to take you and drag you here."

"Geez... You're still addicted to this stuff?"

"Is this a... superhero or something like that? It's hard to assume."

"Talking about superheroes, I bet she didn't find one for herself yet. Did you, (Y/N)?"

Yeah. No strangers, right? These guys are totally strangers now. You were about to cry, tears coming up your frown as you took a deep breath. Just tonight, you can do this.

"Hey guys, why don't we turn music up and start this party already?" You said with a fake smile in your face ignoring all the questions they did, this night will be long, but it would be even longer if you answered them.

They agreed and the party started, you wished you weren't listening to the lyrics of this song. Urgh, disgusting. But again, you were dancing for your 'friends' to be happy.

When you went back home you ran to the bathroom and cried out all you were holding back and swallowing the whole night.

It was almost 12am and the only sound that could be heard was your hiccups echoing on the bathroom walls and your knees falling on the ground with a thud, sniffs joined as you felt your heart burn in your chest making it feels like your own inside hell. You couldn't take this anymore.

So you got up, looked at the mirror and told the girl looking back that it's over. You had enough, from now on you'll only take care of yourself and screw what people think or say. Time to live for yourself and be happy.

Then you took a bath and put your pajamas on to get more comfortable, being back to your own world with your fandom stuff made you smile. Your life is 'back to normal.' Or at least that's what you thought.

You walked to the balcony in your room and stared at the bright lights of San Fransokyo. You didn't know how but the brightness of the city makes you feel like you're safe, as if the lights were spotlights illuminating you and suddenly you feel like you could do anything. But you wished you had someone to make you feel that way and also feel this amazing feeling with you.

She says

"Yeah, he's still coming, just a little bit late

he got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape"

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a loud sound of metal falling on the concrete coming from the alley beside the building you lived.

"Damn it Baymax! We sure need to hurry up we also need to be quiet." A male voice whisper shouted.

Curiosity took over you and you leaned in the rail to see a skinny guy with black messy fluffy hair dressed in a red shirt with a robot on it, dark blue hoodie, beige pants and brown converse. With him a big marshmallow looking like robot, you looked more carefully and when you saw the guy's brown eyes you didn't know if you could tell which one of them were cuter.

You watch them as they ran to the backyard of the laundromat just across the street and after a little while they were inside it, this is how far you go when you know how to hack a security system. The black haired boy looked around and put a weird black outfit with some red little details on the knees and elbows, at least that's what you could figure out from the distance you were.

Time passed by and when the weird outfit was clean and ready, the guy and the robot got out the same way they got in and swiftly faded away running down the street.

She's just watching the clouds roll by

And they spell her name

Like Lois Lane

You didn't exactly knew what just happened but well, now you can go to sleep smiling and knowing you saw something you can't see everyday. And you loved when it happens.

And she smiles

Oh! The way she smiles

In the middle of the night, you woke up with a loud thud coming from outside. There was a loud conversation followed by another thud, so you decided to go to your balcony and just like a some hours ago you kept watching the event that was happening from there.

"Oh! It's those superheros again..."

She's talking to angels, counting the stars,

Making a wish on a passing car

As the fight between the heros and the bad guy went by something happened really fast that you couldn't keep track of it, so out of nowhere everything went silent and you couldn't tell why. You turned around to get inside only to end up bumping on something, better, someone.

She's dancing with strangers

She's falling apart

"Shhhh..."

The person put a finger on your mouth while looking deep into your eyes, his eyes clearly telling you to keep quiet as if both your lives depended on it. Which it did, because when you glanced the guy from head to toe you realized he was the leader of the superheros, which means that the bad guy is after him. WHICH MEANS THAT THE BAD GUY CAN APPEAR AT YOUR BALCONY ANYTIME NOW!

Waiting for superman to pick her up

In his arms, yeah

You both heard a sound coming from the side of the building just above your window and in the next moment the superhero took you by your waist and dragged you inside your apartment to hide.

He was now beside your curtains shielding you against the wall waiting for the villain outside to go away, you were so terrified that you didn't even notice you weren't breathing. And also you had a guy's body pressed against yours, even through the armor you could tell it had some results of 'hero's duties' hidden in there, if you know what I mean.

The shadow of the villain faded, and when the man in front of you had sure the bad guy was gone he sighed and looked in your eyes once more.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded slowly as he held your shoulders.

"I'm sorry for the invasion and such." He said letting go of you while sketching the back of his neck.

"Nah, it's okay. We could've died if you haven't done anything so... Thanks."

He breathed loudly looking at you, only on your pjs, for a moment then one side of his lips lifted a little with a chuckle.

"It's my pleasure, young lady."

You smiled shyly, all this time neither of you left the sigh of each other's eyes. It was dark but you could see his brown orbs perfectly, they were the only thing you could actually see of his face through his helmet's glass. And they were breathtaking.

After a moment of silence he spoke.

"I-I... I better get going now."

"O-oh... Okay."

Suddenly he took your hand, getting you by surprise.

"Will I see you again?"

He was about to get out your window, the moonlight shining made you notice his black with red details outfit under his armor. Wait... you've seen it before. But you looked up back at his eyes, you were hypnotized again.

"U-uh... I-I... I don't know, maybe?"

He smiled and you could see a gap between his two front teeth, after that he winked at you and in a blink of an eye he was gone.

In his arms, yeah

Waiting for superman

The next day you suddenly decided you wanted to eat somewhere around the city. So you threw on a pair of black leggings, a long sleeved light blue dress with a black belt around your waist, a furry boot and your purse and walked out. You easily found a simple café at the end of the street, perfect.

You never felt so light, the place was simple and really welcoming. The smell of the pastries warmed you up inside as a beautiful lady came up to you with a sympathetic smile in her face.

"Hello young lady, may I help you?" Her soft voice and warm eyes made you ask yourself why you've never came here before.

"Sure! Thank you. I would like a piece of strawberry pie and some hot chocolate, please."

The woman's smile got wider then she said you could choose a seat and she'd bring you your order in some minutes, you thanked her and headed to a table in the back of the café beside a huge window.

You looked outside thinking about everything that happened last night: the party, the boy and the robot at the laundromat and the invasion of a superhero.

Somehow you felt like they were all connected, as if you shouldn't care anymore about those who once were your friends and move ahead with your own life, start your own adventure. And you knew how to begin.

She's out on the corner trying to catch a glimpse

Nothing's making sense

That nice woman came with your order and with that beautiful smile on her face once again, you already loved her. You smiled back while thanking her and her smile got even wider if it was possible.

After she left, you drove deep in your thoughts once again as you eat and drink, the guy at the laundromat washed a weird black outfit with red details. The same one the superhero who invaded your room was wearing under his armor, cloud they be...

THE SAME PERSON?

“There's only one way to find out (Y/N).” You said to yourself when you finished your meal. You got up and as you headed to pay you saw some movement through the glass door on the inside corner of the café, a boy and a robot coming down the stairs.

You paid your meal and then you realized: Wait! A boy and a robot? Here?!

She's been chasing an answer

A sign lost in the abyss

This Metropolis

Once you left the café you tried to find out where those two went, you needed to know who they are.

As you just thought it, you felt something flying above your head, people around you cheered and when you looked up...

"It's him." The invasor from last night, but this time you had the opportunity to look closely at the huge member of the group. It had a familiar face, white with two black spheres and a black line connecting both of them. It's the marshmallow looking like robot. You knew it!

But well, you still had no concrete proofs. You decided to take a walk while they don't come back.

After some time you ended giving up for today cause you got tired of waiting. As you headed back home you passed through a store, those typical you-find-in-every-street five & dime. And with no purpose you simply take a look at it. Oh! You stop on your tracks.

The boy. The robot. There they are.

She says

"Yeah, he's still coming, just a little bit late,

he got stuck at the Five and Dime saving the day"

You couldn't move, so you stayed there staring... creepy. You knew, but you had no choice cause you were paralyzed. The guy turned around to leave the store but stopped when he saw you.

These brown eyes, there's no way this can't be him. He took a deep breath and did the unexpected, he ran away.

And you were paralyzed so you didn't do anything at all, just watched him and his robot fading away down the street just like they did last night. But this time you saw him entering the café, and you knew now that he lives there.

Something wasn't right, he asked you if he would see you again, right? So why did he run away when he saw you? A tear rolled down your cheek, what's going on?

She says

If life was a movie, then it wouldn't end like this

Left without a kiss

But well, you were a new you now. Whatever it takes, you'd keep your head held high as if the San Fransokyo night lights were lighting you up all the time. Or at least try, so you wipe away that tear and head back home.

Still, she smiles

Oh! The way she smiles, yeah

After you ate something and took a bath you decided to go to the balcony again. It used to wash your 'bad' thoughts away but it only reminded you of last night, still you stayed there supporting yourself in the rail.

She's talking to angels, she's counting the stars

Making a wish on a passing car

She's dancing with strangers

She's falling apart

Waiting for superman to pick her up

"I knew you'd be here" you gasp and turn to your left to see the superhero and the robot, aka IRON MArshmallow, floating beside your balcony. You couldn't say anything.

"I'm not a stalker or something like that, don't be scared. But sometimes when I'm on battle or something else and I pass through here... I see you. Peaceful as an angel looking at this wild city."

He says climbing down off the back of the robot and gesturing to your view of San Fransokyo you loved so much. "I just wonder how you do that. Some things happened to me and I've been searching for peace for a long time now."

You didn't know how to keep going with this conversation so you stayed silent and gave him a confused look, he continued.

"I just... I need to know what I should do to feel like this, and somehow something inside me keep telling me that you're the only one who can help me."

"So why did you run away from me earlier?" You finally managed to say.

"W-what?"

"At the five and dime, I know it was you. Why did you run?"

"H-how do y-you know it was me?"

"Your eyes," your cheeks never been redder. "I would've recognize them anywhere."

He gasped at your words and now it was his turn to be speechless, he opened his mouth just to close it again and bow his head. Then the robot suddenly spoke.

"I don't think I have introduced myself properly. I am Baymax, I'm a personal health care companion and according to my diagnosis, Hiro's emotional state has been damaged by a personal lost and I assume that spending some time with you will make him feel better."

Hiro? So that's his name.

"With me? Why?"

"My scanner results show that he feels affection for you-"

"Baymax!" Hiro shouted.

"His heart rate has increased by your presence, this proofs that my treatment might be working."

You stared a him for some silent minutes until he lifted his gaze to your eyes, a hopeful yet sad look in his face. After taking a deep breath you finally spoke.

"I-I'm not really sure about that."

"What? Why?" Hiro said confused.

"You barely know me! For you to know I just come here in the balcony to wash my thoughts away, I've been through a lot of things lately. Last night before you saved me I was crying out loud at the bathroom. I'm not a peaceful person, I'm sorry. I'm trying to change."

Baymax got into the conversation once again.

"Scan complete. Name: (Y/F/N). Female/male. (Blood/type). Allergic to (---). There's no physical injuries, however, your emotional state is damaged which can take you to a possible depression in a near future. I suggest you to interact with people and make friends as a treatment."

"See? I'm not what you thought I'd be." You said gesturing to the robot. Hiro's lips lift up a little.

"(Y/N)... What a gorgeous name."

"Are you paying attention? What I mean is: how will I help you to find peace if I can't even find it to myself?"

He didn't say anything, he just walked closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Urgh these eyes again…” You thought. He lifted your chin with his right hand, you felt a weird feeling inside your belly as he did so, your cheeks started getting red and a shiver ran down your spine.

"Let's find it together then."

"How?" the corner of your lips lifted up a little as you breathed out a small nervous laugh.

"Follow me." Hiro answered walking of to climb up Baymax's back. "You coming?" He looked back at you.

You slowly walked near them while looking down at the street, your balcony never seemed so high.

"Hey! Don't look down, trust me... I'll never let you fall." He said calmly extending his hand out to you, you took a deep breath and gave him your hand.

In his arms, yeah

Oh, in his arms, yeah

In the next moment he already had pulled you up, he wrapped his arm around your waist protectively pulling you even closer to him.

"Where are we going?" You asked.

"I was thinking about the bridge, what do you say?"

"Yeah... Okay." You've never been so nervous.

"Okay then, you ready?"

"I-I think so."

"It's scary just in the first 3 seconds, don't worry. And as I said... I'm not letting you fall." Hiro’s grip on your waist got ever tighter, you nodded and in a blink of an eye you were flying.

Waiting for superman

To lift her up, and take her anywhere

Show her love, flying through the air

And you thought the view of your balcony was beautiful, this is gorgeous! As you admired the beauty of the city the guy holding you admired yours.

The way your hair fly in the wind and the shine in your eyes showing happiness made him feel like he could do anything, he felt unstoppable with you around. That's how he wanted to feel all the time. He also would do anything for you to feel like that too, with him, he needed you. Your dreams were coming true.

"I knew you'd love it, hold on... We're landing."

Save her now, before it's too late tonight

Oh, at the speed of light

You landed, but “wait...how will we get dow-”

Hiro interrupted your thoughts by picking you up bridal style and jumping off of Baymax, he put you on the ground and asked smiling.

"So... How was it?"

"It was awesome! I never felt so free! And the view was breathtaking! It made me feel like I could do anything I want, just like when I look at the view of my balcony but a thousand times better! I guess it's because..." You started talking slower and lower. "I was... with..." Hiro approached you, you looked into his eyes and this time was like you could almost see his soul "... you."

He laughed and slowly brought his hands to his head taking off his helmet. Now that you could see his face properly and his fluffy hair you smiled as wider as you could.

"It may sound cliché but I felt exactly the same way... looks like the lady ended up saving the hero." The boy approached you even more letting his helmet fall in the process. You giggled.

"No... you saved me, believe me."

"So I guess we saved each other then." He smirked.

And she smiles

"Yeah... we did." You said and sighed.

You both inches away from each other, his left hand found it's way up to your jawline sliding back a bit to cup the back of your head behind your ear. His other hand finding it's way to your waist, your left hand as well find his chest and the right one grips the left side of his torso.

All of this very slowly, almost like slow motion. And after that he closed the gap between your lips, kissing you passionately and carefully. You both melted into the kiss showing all your love to each other with such gesture.

She's talking to angels, she's counting the stars

Making a wish on a passing car

She's dancing with strangers, she's falling apart

Waiting for superman to pick her up

in his arms, yeah

Oh, in his arms, yeah

She's waiting for superman

To lift her up, and take her anywhere

Show her love, flying through the air

Save her now, before it's too late tonight

After a while your lips let go of each other's, but you didn't move at all. He glued your foreheads together as your left hand slid up to his neck and jawline up and down slowly, his hands also caressing your waist and cheek. Both of you with your eyes closed treasuring the moment. You can tell that Baymax is talking about something related to what just happened but neither of you were paying attention.

"Sorry for keep you waiting for me all this time, (Y/N)."

"Don't be, you're here now and that's all that matters."

With that you shared another sweet and full of love kiss.

She's waiting for superman.

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