#did not go into this drawing with the intention to colour it
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Been wanting to do more practice on anatomy stylisation/different structures to basic shapes. So have my headcanons on the riders arms and legs👍
#did not go into this drawing with the intention to colour it#but here we are I guess#wasn’t even gonna post it lmao#tw scarring#httyd#how to train your dragon#art#digital art#my art#my artwork#artist#art stuff#original art#artwork#artists on tumblr#hiccup httyd#astrid httyd#httyd snotlout#fishlegs httyd#httyd ruffnut#httyd tuffnut#hiccup#hiccup haddock#httyd hiccup#buff astrid#astrid hofferson#snotlout jorgenson#fishlegs ingerman#ruffnut thorston#tuffnut thorston
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Three days ago I received my summer exchange gift from @harmaanoita being this most adorable fanfic - I don't lie when I say I was turning into a school girl giggling, grinning and kicking my feet in the air at midnight reading these three adorable little interactions that you wrote for our boys :'D (also the author's note alone made me very emotional, thank you :'3 <3)
This scene of Jere putting on Bojan's make up spoke to me so I had to draw it 👀if for nothing else then to satisfy my own silly brain so it could release even more dopamin making me into a silly teenage girl yet again putting this on paper (or .... you know what I mean, tablet x'D)
So to quote Bojan from this exact scene in the story:
"I love it" 🥰
Thank you so much again and I hope you enjoy this little piece of fanart too to go with your story :'3
#fun coincidence that we both put bojere in fabulous make up x'D#I hope I was able to capture the vibe you were thinking about :3#also I had to try to go for both their “old” and “new” hair because I am extra x'D#and yes it is the queer platonic colours - it wasn't intentional at first but it now x'D#also can we talk about the cuddle when sick scene OVO#because how did you know that I am a sucker for hair cuddles OVO#(i just remembered that I told you in an ask but hush x'D)#there's a good chance I might draw that scene as well OVO#the cuteness wont be contained :'D x'D#bojan cvjetićanin#jere pöyhönen#käärijä#joker out#mine#my own art#summerkjgiftexchange24#<sorta x'D
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I AM SPEED
#just me hi#starting 2 things at once and waiting for a response so that i know what colour to make the clothes#staring very very very intently at my screen#//haven't been able to draw anything for like the past ohhh i dunno#2ish 3ish+ days? it's been slow loll#but i Did scribble a lot with a black alcohol marker so it's not artblock lol :>#just had to switch up the medium for a minute#//man and i haven't had internet either for the Longest time#at least youchewb manages to run videos (at 50 sec to 1 min intervals) so i got that going on#//OH and i want to learn how to make bread#mostly because everybody is this frikckin household is obsessed with eggs now and i need something to eat fhvfbsh#not sure how to go about that just yet tho so that's on the back burner lol :)#//i have GOT to use watercolours again#i could use them pretty well but last i did anything with them was like.. 2-3 years ago and my skills were that of a littol baby's hvhf#i found some of the landscapes i did and..... it was a lovely attempt <3 not a very appealing result but it was a very good attempt#//uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh i need to draw everything more#everything in the world just absolutely the whole universe#i won't be satisfied until i do that so i guess i won't be bored for a good long while lol#//quick what's your favorite flower !!#i'll draw a bouquet‚ i'm feeling like it lol :>>
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prefects and t(h)reats
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𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you haven't been lurking the castle at night since the day you cost your house a lot of points and the slytherin prefect scolded you. long enough has passed, and you might want to start doing that again. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: harry potter universe, slytherin!seonghwa, hufflepuff!reader, smut, bit of angst (seonghwa being a piece of shit(basic slytherin) towards the reader and her friends) 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: spanking, hair pulling, choking, finger sucking, fingering, oral (f!receiving), voyeurism, unprotected sex, semi-public?
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: idk, cursing i guess 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: something got fucked in the process of posting this so if you see any repeating paragraphs do let me know my eyes aren't working anymore :D !everyone is of age, regardless of the year they are in. also, i may or may not have a finger sucking kink or whatever you call that :) also, i so did NOT use a twd negan reference here. just ignore that.
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.
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"ugh! that snape will be the reason i get sent to azkaban, mark my words! i spent ages trying to perfect that mood colour changing sweater, and he just confiscated- wait, what?"
"what, what is it?"
"did our bloody house points get deducted again?"
just your luck, you need to pass by them to get to your next class. you wish you had perfected the disillusionment charm, it would be very helpful right now.
"you."
ignoring the voice that speaks clearly to you, you hug your books to your chest and quicken your pace, attempting to ascend the stone stairs and vanish into the divination classroom. suddenly, your elbows are seized by two familiar pairs of hands, drawing you back to stand before the house points display. indeed, the hourglass under the hufflepuff banner is noticeably less full than it was just the day before. and it may or may not be your fault. again.
"listen to me, honeydukes." wayne, your fellow housemate warns.
"don't call me that!" you still struggle to understand how you acquired that nickname, especially since you rarely visit honeydukes these days. that habit faded after your teeth nearly succumbed to decay from all the cotton candy and chocolate frogs.
"if you keep this up, you are going to be the reason i end up in azkaban. got it?" he points a finger at your face, causing you to stumble back.
"you have a week to get at least twenty points back. if you don't..." the other one, justin, also points his finger at you, "...i'll make your remaining years at hogwarts miserable. we are the lousiest house anyway, why do you have to make it worse?"
"yeah, what do you even do to make us lose house points?"
"i bet she pisses off prefects."
"or bothers professors outside the class, the know-it-all."
"i don't care if you have to duel harry potter himself, you'll get those points back."
"and when you do, you'll get double and triple that, and make sure we win this year."
"it is only fair, since you're costing us so much."
with each accusation hurled at you, you retreat, hoping to flee the verbal attack before tears betray you and worsen the situation. a high pitched noise invades your ears, drowning out their voices. so intent on avoiding their accusing fingers, you fail to notice the brink of the top stair until your foot falters and balance is lost. you gasp, eyes shut, bracing for the impact of cold stone against your skull.
"levioso!"
yet it never comes. your body is stuck in the air, right above the stairs. all the noise and fuss has left the main hall, resulting in you being too scared to open your eyes.
"accio."
but you are forced to open them, ears picking up quiet murmuring, mainly coming from girls. your eyes meet dark brown ones, stone cold with a serious expression. his black swirly wand is directed at you, levitating your body through the air until you're brought back to the top of the stairs. you finally regain control of it, hands hurriedly fixing the robe and covering yourself.
"you fools." he speaks, eyes not leaving yours.
your lip trembles, and eyes well up with tears. park seonghwa is the one person you do not wish to anger and disappoint. your admiration for him hasn't stopped growing since the day he came to this school. park seonghwa, the slytherin prince. slender frame, porcelain skin, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, plump lips, dark eyes, and an immpeccable posture. he walked the castle with such grace, his cloak following him and flowing in the air behind him. whether it was magic or not, you found yourself utterly captivated, not just by his cloak, but by his very essence. he was, in a word, beautiful.
"i'm- i'm sorry-" you stutter, the sentence not yet formed in your brain. is this really how your first encounter with him will go?
"you absolute fools." he turns around, facing the two boys.
wayne and justin are now the ones stumbling back, audibly gulping. "we're sorry, seonghwa."
"all that over house points?" seonghwa scoffs in disbelief, "well, guess what? you just cost your own house fifty points."
the entire great hall gasps, not used to seeing the prefect this enraged and stern. he avoids public confrontations, curious eyes and gossipy mouths, always opting to pull the troublemakers aside to scold them. he also mostly deducts five points, ten at most. but fifty?
"show is over. go to your classes." he orders to the crowd, and they waste no time in continuing their journey to their classrooms.
overwhelmed by the unfolding situation, you find yourself unable to move. your gaze fixes on seonghwa's polished black shoes, unsure of your next action or words. your first encounter with him wasn't supposed to unfold this way. you intended to sweep him off his feet, exuding confidence and the like. embarrassing yourself and struggling to hold back tears while avoiding his gaze was never in the plan.
"hey, honeydukes. are you alright?"
"i'm fi- honeydukes?" you look at him, brows furrowed. "you know about that nickname?"
he tilts his head, chuckling. "i gave you that nickname."
"you... you gave me that nickname?! do you have any idea how freaking annoying it is..."
"okay, calm down now."
"...to be called that all day every day? even when i've stopped visiting that bloody shop..."
"listen to me."
"...it's haunting me! how dare you?!"
your protest is silenced as he steps closer, cradling your jaw in the palm of his hand to lift your face towards his. the way his dark eyes look down on you makes you feel small and fragile, only being safe because he's holding you. you swallow hard, lips pressed tightly together, not yet trusting yourself to speak.
"i gave you that nickname when i first saw you. in hogsmeade, at honeydukes. i had never seen anyone eat cotton candy so cutely, and nobody would tell me your name until recently i heard it myself. so you became honeydukes. not my fault the rest heard it from me and decided to make their own version of it."
"still..." you are stubborn, not willing to let go so easily.
"tell you what..." he reaches into his pocket, taking out something shiny. you notice it is one of those wrapped chocolate balls, and coincidentally your favorite flavour. "accept this as an apology, and stop sneaking around the library at night. you're going to cost your house more points. and us prefects our sanity."
"a candy? you're bribing me?" you scoff.
he chuckles, then puts one end of the wrapper between his pearly white teeth, while his other hand still holds your jaw. he tugs at the opposite end of the wrapper, loosening it and making the treat more accessible. letting the wrapper drop to the ground, the shiny chocolate appears all the more enticing between his slender fingers.
"open up for me."
lips slowly peeling open, you allow his slender fingers to slip past them and place the treat on your tongue.
"that's a good girl." he purrs, eyes focused on the way your tongue swirls around the chocolate and his fingers. he takes them out, and catching you by surprise, puts them inside his mouth. "well, then. you better get to class."
you nod, gulping and hugging your books to your chest. not knowing what to say to that, or what to say at all, you turn around, ready to get to your next class. but he stops you once again, playfulness evident in his voice.
"and i mean it. stop sneaking around the castle at night. not that i hate other forms of punishment, i don't think it's something you'd enjoy. besides, you need sleep, especially with the upcoming exams."
"okay."
"what? didn't quite catch that."
"yes, sir!" you yell, annoyed and already running up the stairs, almost tripping on your cloak.
"atta girl." seonghwa smiles proudly, walking in the direction of his next class.
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you used to love hogsmeade. then you hated it. now, you love it again. winter has wrapped the village in a festive mood, with christmas just around the corner. streets are dripping with decorations, lights and christmas trees. enchanted instruments are singing songs on the street, people are rushing to buy presents already, and hermione and ron are bickering as always. harry walks by your side, mesmerized by the amount of lights decorating the balconies of the villagers.
"we always go get stupid butterbeers. let's try something else for once!" the girl complains, growing sick of the habit the four of you have formed when arriving at hogsmeade.
"yes, but... it's butterbeer. what else is there to try?" the ginger says, opting for the simple routine.
"merlin, i don't know! just- ugh. what do you say, honeydukes?"
ever since you told them about the incident at the great hall, they've called you nothing but that. you don't hate it anymore. if anything, it reminds you of the slytherin prefect every time you are called. and you don't hate that either.
"i think..." just as you are about to agree with hermione, your eyes notice a group of slytherins entering the three broomsticks. thus, "...ron is right. i mean, butterbeer is butterbeer."
"so bland. fine, let's go."
upon entering, you realize that you have to fight your way to the seats. it is crowded, as though all of hogwarts has chosen the same time and place for drinks. ron is stubborn, tugging hermione, who tugs you, who tugs harry. the wizard chain somehow makes it through the singing and dancing crowd, reaching the end of the tavern and big table where you usually sit. only to find the place occupied.
"hey, that's our seats!" ron complains, pointing at the slytherin boys.
"oh, no. how dare they take our unassigned assigned seats?" the girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.
"go on, honeydukes. say something."
you look at the boy who remained silent until now, confused. "me? why me?"
"well, it's your little boyfriend sitting there. maybe he'll listen to you."
"harry-!" before you can protest, you are nudged in front of the table, prompting all the boys at the table to halt their conversation and turn their heads to look at you. seonghwa raises an eyebrow, amused.
"what is it, half blood?" draco snickers, glancing over at seonghwa for approval. but when seonghwa doesn't acknowledge him, he settles down, hiding behind his half full glass of butterbeer.
"uh, my friends and i... we were just wondering..." you look behind at the three of them, who stand waiting politely as if you were their mother arranging a play date. "...if you could scoot over and let us have one side of the table? since it is a sharing table... and there's only four of us... and four of you. or not. i mean, if you want to. if you don't, that's fine. i'm not ordering you, i'm just... actually, we don't need it. sorry for bothering you. we'll leave now."
you turn around, cheeks and tips of ears ablaze with embarrassment. the trio looks at you with mouths open wide, wondering just what the hell happened to you.
"what the bloody hell was that?" ron says, eyebrows furrowed.
"i-"
"honeydukes?"
your body responds to his voice immediately, turning around and eyes locking into his. he smiles at you, then waves towards the seats that are now empty.
"ah, sweet!" harry cheers, and the two boys throw their belongings on the chairs and rush to the bar to order.
hermione takes a seat first, choosing a spot as far from them as possible. this leaves you with only one option: the chair next to blaise zabini, the boy who, after Seonghwa and Draco, had the most admirers. he doesn't acknowledge you, nor does anyone else, until you start gossiping with hermione and she abruptly stops mid-sentence.
"he's looking at you."
"what? who is?" your head starts to turn itself before thinking, but hermione is quick to slap your arm. "ow!"
"don't look! that prefect, seonghwa. he's looking at you so intensely. it's scary."
"like, scary scary or hot kinda scary?"
"well, i-" she stutters, not yet used to being this open with anyone yet. "the latter."
the boys arrive, ron holding the drinks and harry holding bowls of snacks. they almost throw them on the table, and ron doesn't even wait to sit before taking a big sip of his drink. harry digs into his loaded chips, not intending on offering anyone a bite or two.
the conversation at the other end of the table ceases, causing ron to set his glass down and harry to stop trying to fit the entire bowl into his cheeks. you look at both ends, the situation looking funny, especially with hermione looking embarrassed next to you. the slytherin boys exude sophistication, taking delicate sips of their drinks, sharing a bowl of spicy chili treats, conversing in hushed tones, and maintaining an overall neat and respectful demeanor. the gryffindor boys are a complete contrast; ron with his butterbeer moustache, harry with sauce smeared on his cheek, both flushed and almost reeking of sweat already.
"wufnt sum?" harry says with his mouth full, nudging his half empty bowl towards the other group.
they all look at the prefect, as if he decides whether they can have some or not. "no, thank you, potter. you seem to be enjoying it too much for me to take it away from you. i'd feel bad."
the groups snickers, and something twitches inside of you. seeing the prefect's cocky and arrogant smile, your interest in him falters. he's no longer looking at you, not even sparing you glances. entertaining his group and bullying the gryffindor boys seemed to be way more interesting. and you've had enough of it.
"so... nice moustache weasley."
"right, we get it." you almost yell, causing them to stop and turn their heads at you. "you're all so smart, and perfect, and purebloods, and we are just laughing stock. i don't need to listen to this, and neither do they."
"oh, feisty." draco comments, earning a glare from seonghwa.
"right, honeydukes. i apologize for my behaviour." the dark haired slytherin smiles at you, but your face stays the same.
"it's not me you should be apologizing to."
"are you dense? how dare you talk to him like that?" the young boy doesn't give up, wanting to fight you no matter what.
"malfoy, sit back." seonghwa says, putting a hand on draco's chest. "potter, weasley. i apologize for my comments."
"'s alright."
"yeah, no worries." they mumble, gazes locked on the table.
awkward silence swallows your corner of the tavern, with the people only staring at the middle of the table and only breathing. seonghwa then slides the untouched bowl of chili treats in the middle, causing the group to look at him.
"how about a game? you know, that muggle one, never have i ever? for each thing that you did, you need to eat a handful of these. you in, gryffindor?"
eager to prove themselves, they straighten their clothes and backs, and focus. hermione sits back, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest. ron nudges her with his elbow, and she rolls her eyes and joins in.
"hufflepuff?" the dark eyed boy tilts his head.
"sure, whatever."
"alright, then. game on."
it starts with innocent questions, such as cheating on exams and gossips. then, it progressively gets more serious and more...
"never have i ever made out with someone in the astronomy tower?"
sexual.
you are not shocked to see that blaise and seonghwa are taking a handful of the spicy treats, but your jaw drops when ron and hermione do the same, exchanging a single glance before blushing and shoving the handful in their mouths. harry shares his surprise with you, jaw equally hanging.
"well, well. little miss granger." seonghwa teases. "good job, ron boy."
"never have i ever... done more than dry humping in an empty owlery?" harry surprises the table with his question.
"what?! you've done that?!" hermione is almost in his face, surprised how she didn't know this about her best friend.
"i might've..." the chosen one smiles, wasting no time in burning his tongue with the treats once again.
your side of the table seems to retreat after that question, the slytherin boys asking about things you didn't ever think of. things that would have dubmbledore kick you out of the school, through the very same astronomy tower everyone seems to mention. the game eventually grows into a conversation, discussing who their favorite partner was, what their most risky situation was, and who they have an eye on recently.
"what about you, honeydukes?" blaise asks, using seonghwa's nickname for you. it just doesn't hit the same.
"what about me?"
"nothing to share? no risky business, no partners, no bad sexual experiences? i mean, have you had any experience at all?"
"of course i have. i'm not a virgin, if that's what you're implying. i've had more bad ones than good ones. having me jerk someone off under the desk while learning about amortentia wasn't exactly my cup of tea."
"oh, you poor thing." draco coos, mockingly.
they all eventually let go, and when you realize that seonghwa hasn't made a comment about you in a while, you look at him. he is already observing you, his expression unreadable. his eyes roam your face, then your hair, and finally your clothes. you feel small under his intense gaze, and you find yourself squirming on the wooden chair. when his eyes catch yours, he blinks, then looks away.
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after a morning of intense studying, practicing flying, and rushing to hogsmeade for potions supplies for the exam tomorrow, you end up sleeping the entire afternoon. when you wake up, it is dark. you hate wasting days, especially because winter ones are so short. you haven't done anything fun for yourself these few weeks, only studying and avoiding the slytherin prefect.
he might've noticed, or perhaps not. you've noticed a few glances here and there, but the hogsmeade encounter made your feelings for him fade. it wasn't a major crush after all, just simple admiration. maybe liking. regardless, he doesn't get in your way. meaning, it might be safe to have one of those late night adventures through the castle. your disillusionment charm has improved, and you'll finally put it to good use.
wearing nothing but your yellow sleeping attire, you slip out of the dormitory and head to the library. the ghosts don't bother you, even if you didn't cast the charm yet. they must've found another victim, especially peeves. that bastard.
no prefect in sight either, which makes you wonder if you're really being that subtle and successful in your late night escapade. perhaps they're toying with you, letting you reach the doors of the library just to stop you and punish you.
yet, it doesn't happen. not when you reach the door, not when you slip past them, and not when you reach the restricted section.
"lumos." you chant, then put the handle of the wand between your teeth so you can see the shelves better.
how sad, you think, sneaking out at night only to come to a library.
mid book browsing, you hear footsteps. hurriedly twirling your wand around yourself, you cast the charm, and crouch.
"nox," you whisper, the wand no longer emitting light from its tip.
the footsteps get closer, with faint whistling being heard. whoever it is, they're either completely oblivious, or they're just keeping you at the edge before revealing themselves.
"little pig, little pig..." the voice sings, and you gasp.
the slytherin prince himself roams the library's forbidden section, each footstep sounding closer to you. you get on your hands and knees, crawling among the shelves in search for a way out. but from this perspective, everything looks different. after all, this isn't your usual view.
"let," step, "me," step, "in."
a hand grabs your hair from behind, pulling your head back just enough to make you yelp. the disillusionment charm wears off, and you groan, defeated.
"well, well. if it isn't the innocent little hufflepuff. no wonder i've been craving sweet since i entered the library."
"will you let go of me?"
"oh, sure thing." he softens his grip, giving you just a taste of freedom before yanking your head again, "what's the magic word? you know, that muggle one?"
"please, please!" you yelp, hands wrapping around his wrist in hopes of convincing him to let go.
he does, then steps back to give you space so you can get up. fixing your sleepwear, you fail to see his amused grin as he stares at you. when you finally look up at him, he has his usual prefect serious face on.
"now, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"sorry, it won't happen again." you should tattoo that on yourself next time you're in muggle world, it comes like a good morning to you. "i'll see myself out."
"oh, no, no." the man stops you, grabbing your elbow. "you don't get away with a sorry. not anymore. remember what i said last time?"
"uh... something about different forms of punishment?" you remember.
"that's right. good girl." his voice seems to drop a few octaves, causing you to subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. "now, how many?"
"what?"
"how many?"
"how many what?"
"spanks, sweetheart."
"you're-" you choke on your spit, "you're going to spank me?"
"oh, would you rather lose points? again?" he tilts his head, fake worry painted on his features.
"well, no, but-"
"deducting points doesn't seem to work on you anyways. i'll have to try a different approach. usually works." he steps towards you, making you step back.
"usually? you uh... you spank other people?" you dare ask.
"why?" he continues his slow steps.
"just asking."
"jealous?"
"why would i be?"
"i don't know." he shrugs, then looks around checking for intruders. "a little bird told me you have a crush on me."
your back hits the shelves, and you gasp. he stops in front of you, still maintaining a small distance. you stutter, not knowing what to say. do you have a crush on him?
"i certainly don't."
"oh." he furrows his eyebrows, "you sure?"
"yes." your voice comes out raspy, and you clear your throat. "yes, absolutely."
"honeydukes?"
"yes?"
"are you trying to convince yourself, or me?"
"i don't have a crush on you, seonghwa." you try to sound as convincing as possible.
"good. then, this interaction won't have any side effects besides teaching you a lesson. now, how many?"
you want to say a small number, like two or three. but if it happens to feel good, you won't have the guts to ask for more. oh how foolish, how can spanking be good?
"tick-tock, hufflepuff. if you don't decide, i will for you. and trust me, you do not want that."
he isn't touching you, hell, he isn't even looking at you. yet he has power over you like nobody ever had before, making you stand still against the bookshelves and wait for his instructions.
"ten," you simply say.
"ten? not one, two?" seonghwa is surprised with your answer, figuring you'd choose a smaller number.
"i didn't think you'd accept one or two. or would you?"
"smart girl. no, i wouldn't. now, what was your favorite subject again? charms, herbology?"
"dark arts," you reply, catching him off guard once again. of course he didn't see it coming. you're sneaking out to go to a library, you're a hufflepuff for merlin's sake, and you stand here in front of him, looking up at him with those wide innocent eyes of yours. who would guess dark arts?
"well, then," he swirls his black wand around both of you, turning you invisible once again, "lead the way, honeydukes."
and you do, having him follow you all the way to the defence against the dark arts classroom. you'd be lying if you said nervous sweat hasn't washed you over three times by the time you reach it. when the door closes, it's like time stops. this is it.
"won't umbridge hear? what if she's still in her office?" you whisper.
"muffliato." he simply casts, sparks flying between the desks, up the staircase at the end of the classroom, and through the doors of umbridge's office. "go on."
you keep walking, all the way to her desk. seonghwa plunges on the comfy professor's chair, then motioned for you to step closer. you barely step close to him, and he pushes you over his lap, causing you to squeak unintentionally. you hold onto his thigh, the position not the most comfortable one.
"count." the slytherin prefect demands.
his big hand lands on your bottom, making you jolt. "one."
his other hand rests on the small of your back, keeping you still so you stop squirming. only three more spanks later, you're already shuffling uncomfortably.
"two, three, four," you say, voice slowly cracking.
"but i'm barely halfway there yet, my hufflepuff princess. don't break on me just yet." he coos, voice soft and comforting, a great contrast to his actions.
you sniff, hand hurriedly wiping a tear that threatened to escape. seonghwa doesn't halt, even if he saw that. instead, he spanks you harder and harder, sparing no inch of your skin of the burning sensation.
"five, six, seven." you shudder, bracing yourself for more. only three more.
"almost there, sweetheart. you're doing so good for me." his other hand caresses your hair, removing it from your face and letting it fall aside. seeing you all teared up and flushed, something new sparks inside of him. "so pretty."
he can't help himself, his hand abusing your sore bottom, exceeding the amount that you both agreed on. you keep counting, not asking him to stop. he lands a final one, deciding it is enough once you let out the first cry.
"t-twenty," you sob, hiding your face in his black slacks.
when his hand touches your bottom again, you expect it to be another hit. instead, his hand caresses it, helping to soothe the pain. it lasts mere seconds, before you feel him raise the top of your pajama, then pull on the bottom. he exposes your red bottom to the cool classroom air, and you can't help but whine at the loss of contact.
"you did so good, my love." seonghwa coos, fingers running through your hair as he waits for you to collect yourself.
once you do, you realize that the burning sensation isn't only on your butt cheeks. you also feel it between your legs, briefs soaked with arousal.
"did you learn the lesson?" his hand finds its spot under your chin, raising your head so he can look at you properly.
"yes." you say, failing to maintain eye-contact with him. maybe it's the guilt, or maybe simply the way he looks at you. either way, you opt to stare at his perfectly ironed and buttoned up prefect attire.
"want me to make it feel better?"
you shrug, not quite sure what you wanted anyway. his hand slips from under your chin to your neck, catching you off guard, his fingers squeezing the sides of it. he presses lightly into your skin, the other hand adjusting your bottom so that it is higher up and your core easily accessible. a moan escapes your lips, feeling his digits find your clit so easily.
"oh, you poor thing. you're absolutely soaked. is that why you're crying? not from the pain, but from lack of attention?"
when you don't reply, he only chuckles, pressing into your neck more.
"i'll take good care of you, honeydukes."
he moves your briefs aside, digits circling your clit softly, before slipping into your aching hole. you bite into the fabric of his pants, but he stops you, instead offering his finger to bite on. he still holds onto your neck with his thumb and the rest of the fingers, his index finger popped into your mouth to muffle any noise you have to offer him.
hearing your own hole squelch as his fingers pump in and out of you makes a new rush of arousal wash over your folds. his fingers are long, very long. he curves them, spreads them, then removes them from your hole, only to spread your slick all over your clit and abuse it.
you're a drooling mess on his lap, eyes turning back at the pure pleasure he is gracing you with. your hips hopelessly push back, looking for anything to fill you up. he notices, removing his hand from your core, before standing you up and pushing you to sit on the desk. with a single motion, he shreds your briefs to bits, stuffing them into his pocket and attaching his mouth to your aching core.
you fall back on the desk, head hanging from it and overlooking the empty classroom. your brain creates various images for you as seonghwa's hot tongue swipes across your folds, imagining the classroom full of students as seonghwa feasts on you in front of them. were you weird for that?
"not at all, princess."
"stop reading my mind, prefect." you tug on his hair, a form of punishment for intruding your thoughts.
"can't help it, not when you're dripping all over my face."
his fingers find their way into your clenching hole again, curling upwards and finding a spot nobody ever had before. a moan escapes you, echoing through the classroom, and your other hand pushes seonghwa's head further into your cunt.
he chuckles against you, his own hands holding your thighs so you don't suffocate him. you feel yourself inching closer, hips desperately grinding on his mouth and nose, eager to feel a proper orgasm. he pulls away once again, making you whine and groan.
"my, i've spoiled you." he raises an eyebrow, amused at the glares you're sending him. he stands up, working on his zipper. he doesn't take his pants off, deciding to keep his prefect uniform on. it only makes the situation hotter, your brain finally realizing just what you're doing.
you're messing with a prefect, in the middle of the night, in a classroom, right under a professor's nose.
"kiss me." you ask, voice small. red paints your cheeks; you wanted to sound more confident than that.
"you want to taste yourself on my tongue, princess?"
"yes, please."
"since you asked so nicely."
he helps you stand again, hands firm on your waist, and lips finally attached to yours. your arms wrap around his neck, hungrily bringing his body closer to yours. you indeed taste yourself on his tongue, seonghwa not wasting a second in pushing through your soft lips in search for your hot muscle. the sound of kissing echoes in the classroom, the setting hotter than your wildest dreams. seonghwa is a dreamy kisser, making you feel wanted, hot and appreciated at the same time. his lips never leave yours, not even when your fingers tangle in his hair and pull at it with ecstasy. he only moans softly into your mouth, giving you a wave of confidence.
your hand slides down his chest, to the button of his pants, and finally to the zipper. you reach into it, pulling his hard cock out, before giving it a few slow pumps. he sighs into your lips, pulling away for a few moments. his forehead rests against yours, his body falling in control of your one hand. your thumb swipes over the tip, collecting the slick and spreading it over him. his hips rock with your hand, whines and moans deliciously filling your ears. it feels powerful to have him tremble in your hands, desperate and yearning for your touch and attention. this must be what he feels on a daily basis. and it must feel fucking amazing.
"you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases, and you tease back by squeezing his cock. he gasps, but chuckles regardless. "you're just a little brat, waiting to be stuffed like a bad girl. i know it."
with a swift motion, seonghwa turns you around, your still clothed tits pressing against the hard wooden desk and head pushed on the side. he slides into you without warning or teasing, so easily and perfectly. he wastes no time in holding your hips still, smashing his own into you and burying his cock deep in your hole. your walls swallow each inch he offers you, having both of you moan and groan at the pleasure.
"fuck-" he curses, eyes planted on the place where the two of you connect. "fuck, honeydukes- you're going to be the death of me."
"do you- ah!" he snaps his hips into yours once again, each thrust more forceful than the other, "do you do this with others sneaking out at night?"
"i knew you were jealous. so you do have a little crush on me?" he chuckles breathlessly.
"maybe. and maybe." you groan, hands gripping the edges of the desk.
"no, baby. i don't. you're the only one whose cunt i'm going to fill up, again and again. until you've learned your lesson properly."
it is your turn to chuckle now. "if this is your form of punishment, i might start sneaking around while you're on duty more often."
"oh, my hufflepuff princess. if you want me, you can have me any time you want. all day, every day. all you have to do is ask."
the conversation stops, as do his hips, when the doors on top of the stairs open.
"who's there?"
you try looking back at seonghwa, eyes full of fear. his cock twitches in your hole, the riskiness of the situation arousing to him.
"hush, love." he whispers, hand pushing your head down against the cold wood again.
his hips start moving gently, slowly stretching your hole again. you're in shock, not believing that he'd actually continue as the professor walks down the stairs in her own sleeping attire. her eyes skim over the room, trying to find anything unusual. but the silencing spell seems to be working, just like the disillusionment one, making umbridge unaware of your presence. a very... lewd presence.
"merlin, i can't take it anymore. i'm sorry, love."
not giving you a chance to ask why he's apologizing, you soon learn as his hand pulls your hair back and his other one grips your bruised bottom. his hips snap into yours with speed and accuracy, hitting the right spots and bringing you closer to release.
"seonghwa-" you moan.
"yes, love?"
"i want-" you moan again, then beg, "i want to see you, touch you."
he pulls away, helping your limp body in a different position. the professor is ignored, even when she comes dangerously close to the desk. it sends a new wave of arousal to your core, just in time for seonghwa to slide into you again.
"look at that," he sighs, looking at your belly.
you follow his gaze, seeing the outline of his cock on it. your hands bring his head closer so you can kiss him, with equal hunger as before. he continues pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm.
"right, there better not be anyone. i'm not in the mood for any tricks!" umbridge threatens, causing both of you to chuckle into each others mouths.
"this is kind of hot," you admit.
"as much as it is, i want her to go away as soon as possible. i just can't cum when i see her face."
you laugh, glancing at the professor one more time. as if she heard, she listens, angrily stomping upstairs and slamming the door shut.
"uh, speaking of temperatures, i know this is crazy, but i am feeling a bit chilly." you admit, the winter air entering the classroom and hitting your naked skin. after all, you were only in your thin sleepwear, having heavy covers on your bed that kept you warm. seonghwa wastes no time in taking off his prefect cloak, helping you put it on and planting a kiss on your forehead.
"you look beautiful in green, my pretty hufflepuff."
blush paints your cheeks, his scent enveloping you and sending a fresh batch of butterflies to your stomach. you never noticed it before, but he smells of forest moss and after rain stone, with a hint of potions ingredients. it is intoxicating, entering your organism and threatening to never leave.
"oh, merlin," seonghwa throws his head back, lost in pure pleasure as your hole swallows him, the outline of his cock on your belly adding to it all and helping him get closer to his goal. "fuck- fuck-"
he's absolutely dashing, a thin layer of sweat shining on his face and making his dark locks stick to his forehead. his lips are plump from you biting and sucking on them, slightly parted and letting out little gasps and moans. he unbuttons the first few buttons of his uniform, not having a problem with the cold. you're a moaning mess, just like him, completely letting go of every thought you had until now, simply giving yourself to him and admiring him.
you feel full of him, and just when you thought you couldn't feel fuller, seonghwa hisses, spilling his load in you and creating more squelching sounds as he rides out his orgasm, pushing in and out of you sloppily.
it doesn't take long for you to reach your own, the knot in your stomach exploding as his tip slams mercilessly into your soft spot, making you grip his arms, shoulders, hair, anything you could reach. he works you through your high, not missing a single face or sound you make.
you're exhausted, struggling to catch your breath. the recovery lasts longer than usual, seonghwa having wrecked you inside out. his hands gently remove your hair from your face so he can take a good look at you.
"you're good, love. breathe." he coos, caressing your cheek and blowing into your face to cool you off.
"thank you," you blurt out.
"what for?" the slytherin prefect laughs at your innocence.
"i don't know. this, i guess. i've never enjoyed sex, always saw it as a chore. and i never felt desired, just objectified."
"well," the dark haired slytherin pecks your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, "you don't have to worry about that anymore. i've never desired anyone the way i desire you, and i think i just proved it to you how much. you don't have to fear those things with me anymore."
"park seonghwa, are you subtly asking me to be your girlfriend?" you shyly ask, knowing that you might be wrong and embarrass yourself in front of him. to your relief, he pecks your lips once again.
"perhaps. only if you want to. if not, then i'm not asking."
"perhaps i want to."
"perhaps that makes me happy."
"you're crazy." you laugh, and he joins.
seonghwa does one more thing no other partner has ever done for you; he helps you get cleaned, then dressed, and walks you to the doors of your common room.
"if you do decide to sneak off again, please do let me know. wouldn't want other prefects to find you and steal your heart."
you nod, and with a longer kiss, finally part ways with him. he waits until you finish your usual rhythmic tapping on the barrels, until the doors open, and finally, until you disappear into your common room and back to the dormitory.
you notice the sun already rising, and hurry to jump back in bed.
"excuse me? is that a slytherin cloak on you?"
you freeze in your tracks, the cloak ready to slide off you and hide under your pillow. the girl on the bed to your left doesn't give up, now sitting up and staring at you wide eyed.
"and a prefect one too?!" the voice on the right joins, waking up the rest of the room and bringing attention to you.
fuck.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/325ea0233b82f623cedf0addc66c5da7/f1e945f79a245c8d-2a/s540x810/285e55d7aa6a8e6c94035c90518e108bdb876049.jpg)
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LET'S GO OUT WITH A BANG 🚦
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sooooo ermm i guess i get to talk about this piece now YIPPEE
i am one of those people who's constantly trying to figure out what their own art style looks like LMFAO. i take frequent breaks from art due to mental health shit so it feels like every time i come back i'm trying to find my footing again.
that being said, i had a lot of caffeine yesterday and started this on a whim and it ended up being something i'm incredibly proud of. i think it helps that i've been redrawing old emotes for a friend's twitch channel, so figuring out which brushes i like right now was really helpful, and i ended up using my personal emote palette like...a lot. that pink in Etho's eye, the purple used for shading, most of the browns are all used in my own emotes. it's wild how much having colours already picked out streamlines things!
Etho is the one i started with, of course, and ended up being one that i went back to re-draw after i'd done...three? or four? more, because the sizing wasn't right and i wasn't happy with the posing. i still wish i could have conveyed him dipping his chin into his coat fluff a little better, but oh well. i thought of the little detail of him looking at Martyn's drawing at the last second (#ethtyn4life) and it made me laugh so i did it. points to you if you caught that!
Joel was the second - life!Joel has always been fey in my head, especially after that season when he just went batshit insane the second he turned red. can't explain it, that's just how it be. i tried to give him an air of subtle menace about him but i think he just looks sleepy 💀 i'd like to do these as individual, larger pieces at some point, so maybe i can work on that more then.
Grian was the third - he reminds me of a Lost Boy here and that wasn't intentional but the Lost Boys always kind of freaked me out and life!Grian's kinda freaky so i think it fits. his little smirk is so creepy and i love him.
i don't remember who i did next after this so we'll just go in order pfft
Bdubs is SO CUTE look at him. one of the few where i couldn't make a menacing expression work, and honestly with how good his profile turned out i barely mind. i did that side profile with no reference, y'all, idk what kind of crack i was on last night. what the hell. this was about the point where i started wanting to do little lore doodles for everybody so i added the clock face - i think it clashes with the red background but what can you do.
CLEOOOOOO CLEO CLEO. i LOVED drawing them, i think their design is one of my favourites of the bunch. her hair has always been snakes in my head and AGAIN i drew those with no reference, can you fucking believe that. i loved the little detail of some of the snakes poking at the people next to her, they're so cute hehe. also Cleo has freckles now, i'm so sorry but i don't make the rules. someone complimented the teeth in the reblogs and THANK YOU!! they're not quite anatomically correct but fuck it we ball and they look cool as hell anyway.
Martyn is so smug, i love him. points if you caught that he's looking at Cleo bc Double Life, i wanted to do something a lil different with him than just another straight up symmetry tool drawing and i think it fits. he is so eye-searing tho sir please tone it down.
Lizzie is fey just like her husband, and also she is smol. i don't think it's conveyed as well as i'd like here but i also didn't want her to look like a straight-up child so i did what i could. she is So Scary with those vacant blue eyes oh my god. and drawing her hair was sooooo fun i love long hair ahh
with Gem i basically smoothed out a rough design sketch i posted awhile back and i'm so proud of the little head cock she's got going on, she looks so cool. also her hair?? idk how i did that. i love her swoopy bangs so much.
Pearl is moth. Pearl will always be Moth. so she got lil antennae and big buggy eyes. drawing that hood was so satisfying, i used to try and draw Raven Teen Titans in high school and could never get the hood to look right so seeing this one come out perfectly was sooooo good. and of course had to include a teensy moon.
that's all i've got, i think - i feel myself crashing LMFAO. maybe at some point i'll come back and say more but here's this for now!
#smallishbeans#ethoslab#bdoubleo100#grian#zombiecleo#inthelittlewood#itlw#ldshadowlady#geminitay#pearlescentmoon#trafficblr#life smp#🚦smp#vse.art#*#image description in alt#y'all doing the alt text for this was an ADVENTURE lmfao#popular? i know about popular.
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slowly starting to work on my own evanuris designs, first up are dirthamen and falon'din! (i did the busts a month ago now and hadn't decided on the outfits yet so that's why the colours don't match lmao)
some more design notes under the cut :)
next designs -> [june & sylaise] • [andruil & ghilan'nain]
in my headcanon, dirthamen was their original spirit (of guidance) and split while making his body because his soul was conflicted about whether he wanted to, or remain as a spirit. when he split, "dirthamen" was content with his new form, while the other half - falon'din - was not, and was twisted into despair. specifically, i imagine it as the sort of despair where you try to cling onto anything to try to make yourself happy, but to no avail.
i thought it'd be neat for them to have a mark symbolising their spirit shattering, like a birthmark. then making it look like their (eventual) vallaslin design made a lot of sense.
i had an idea for dirthamen to have one eye a long time ago, because he has a LOT of similarities to our odinn - god of knowledge and wisdom, often depicted as a hooded figure, and has two ravens (interestingly, while fear and deceit sound like demon names, huginn ("thought") and muninn (anything from: memory, will, remembrance, intention) sound like spirit names). and while elgar'nan holds odinn's title of all-father, he's more like tyr imo.
dirthy's outfit was loosely based off the robed evanuris in the black codex concept art where they're doing the ritual at the blight box lol. i saw that person and was like yeah that's my special god with his dark robes and his little dagger. ofc i had to give him more style though, and dropped in some colour (as falon'din has canonically claimed the colour black) i decided on green because of his eye colour, and turquoise because sometimes when light hits ravens' feathers they kinda look blue. his mosaic has him covering his mouth, so i covered his mouth here too. also, i know his symbol has a little mohawk thing going on in the ingame statues, i couldn't draw it at that angle guys i'm sorry, shapes are hard.
since falon'din mirrors dirthamen in appearance, he got the single eye too. his colours are also more muted because of the whole despair thing. i also found it really interesting that his symbol is the sun, i 100% thought that was sylaise, but it makes sense as sometimes the setting sun is seen as a symbol of death. also the crook he has on his mosaic was really interesting to me and i included it after i read an 18 page paper on them while researching. it's a shepherd's tool - but can also be seen as a symbol of power/status, and there's quite a few of our irl gods depicted holding one. it's honestly really fascinating. that little magic spark doesn't mean anything though it's just for flair :)
i put fally in an ancient elven armour with minimal design changes as he doesn't strike me as sentimental and is rather more like someone who wants to show off and be the cuntiest person in the room at all times. although black is his colour, again i muted it a little, same with the gold. i may edit his design a little in the future to include his owls but for now i'm just kinda trying to figure out how they'd fit in
#my art#dragon age#evanuris#dirthamen#falon'din#elvhenan#everyone say hi to elven odinn and his cringe brother#honestly dirthamen is my fav but i'm warming up a little to fally too after creating these designs and headcanons of him#<- world's biggest falon'din hater (affectionate) btw#can't believe i'm out here creating designs for bioware's ocs instead of my own btw
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Adventures In Gotham
Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant Side Story
The first time Danny had ever been to Gotham, he swore it would be his last. He was twenty-two at the time.
In an effort to relax after finals had ended, he, Tucker, Sam, Val, Wes, and Dani had been playing a round of Truth or Dare after finishing a few movies. Sam had dared Danny to wander around Gotham without attracting attention to himself. The catch was that he wasn't allowed to use his powers except to fly there and back. His time limit was Sunday night.
They'd all been planning to stay the night at Sam's anyway, so no one would even notice he was gone. Though, the dare had seemed easy at the time, Danny should've realized his luck was not that good.
Regardless, he flew to the outskirts of Gotham City, dropped his transformation, and entered.
The first thing he noticed was that there was some kind of bubble around Gotham preventing the Shades and overall feel of death from leaving. It was overwhelming at first, but he got used to it pretty quickly. The next thing he noticed was that he had walked into somebody's haunt.
Shit.
He made himself presentable and spoke to the night, "I apologise for trespassing," His voice echoed through the open area as though he was shouting in an empty room. Ghost Speak tended to do that. "I mean no hostile intentions. I simply wish to play a game with your protectors." With any luck, whoever this was would be playful or friendly, at the very least. He didn't hold his breath, though.
A lie. He was holding his breath, but that's only because he was nervous!
The night air stilled as though considering his words. Then, a breeze from behind pushed him further into the city. Flapping wings of bats and owls seemed to hide the whispers of "You may come in." and "Be careful." and "You will lose." and "Good luck.".
A vote of confidence from the City Spirit. "Thank you." He was going to be as quick as he could, but he couldn't draw attention to himself. Easier said than done. Batman seemed to know whenever anyone ever stepped foot into his city, especially if they've never been there before. So, he had to play hide and seek with Batman and Robin.
Again, easier said than done.
Danny knows very little about about Gotham and her heroes and villains. What he does know is that Robin is fairly knew to the scene, but also very serious in what he does. He's still a child, though, and he likes to play around a bit. Batman, on the other hand, has already become something of a cryptid, despite only showing himself a year or so ago. Either way, the two balance each other nicely and work well as a team.
Batman and Robin obviously know the entire city inside out, so Danny has to somehow keep an eye on where they are at all times while not drawing attention to himself. Which would be easy, except for the fact that Danny can only sense where non-living beings are. Batman and Robin are very much alive. He's pretty sure. Unless either of them have a shit ton of Shades attached to them, which is unlikely but not impossible, then he'll have to rely on finding them first and keeping them within his sight as he tours around their city.
Why the hell did he agree to this? He so deserves a reward if he succeeds.
'When', not 'if'. 'If' is pessimistic and implies that Batman might just drop him off a building and watch him fall. 'When' at least lets him continue with the illusion that he may get out of this no deader than when he arrived in Gotham.
All he had to do was basically tour the city, then he'll be done. It went well for the first hour, but then he spotted the shadows moving around him. It wouldn't normally be a problem, but one of those shadows was made out of bright colours. Seeing as his Ghost Sense didn't go off, Danny figured the he'd just run straight into Batman and Robin.
Shit. Fuck. Okay, play it cool, Danny.
He ran. He ran as fast as he could without using his powers. When he was sure he'd lost the two vigilanties, he allowed himself to stop in an alley somewhere in the Narrows. (The map he looked at was coming in very handy all of a sudden)
"Could be worse," he said to himself, backing into a corner.
The sound of shattering glass and the scurrying of mice and rats gave the impression of laughter and taunting. Which, rude, but fair.
"Your Knights, my lady," he spoke into the darkness, "are terrifying."
"Who you talking to?"
Danny did not jump. He didn't! Liar.
The kid, about twelve years old, was in bright green, red, and yellow. His hair windswept and he didn't seem even the slightest bit out of breath, let alone tired. Shouldn't he be in bed? Did he have a bedtime? He should have a bedtime, in Danny's expert opinion.
"Did you know that humans are endurance hunters?" Robin had been smiling since he dropped down in front of Danny. And if that wasn't a scary ass line to hear from a twelve year old up way past his bedtime-
No, he's not intimidated. "It's, um, a good thing I'm not completely human then, huh?" Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shut up, Danny! Stop talking! Right now!
This made Robin frown and the shadows started to move again, Batman taking his place just behind the boy. "What do you mean?"
Damn, he's scary! Danny's a sucker for a deep voice with a growl, damn.
"I, um," Intelligent response, Danny. King of the Realm Between Realms of Infinity. Keeper of Balance, Timeless Protector of the Dead and Living, and he can't even form a proper sentence.
Batman and Robin's stares were uncomfortably similar, even as Robin tilted his head ever so slightly to the right.
For all his wisdom, Danny couldn't see how he could manage to get out of this without using his powers. So, "Gottagobye!" he let intangibility and invisibility wash over him and he slipped through the wall behind him. From there, he let the rings of light cover him and he flew away.
He'll take the L. That was scary as hell!
The night wind brushed against him, the sound of breaking bones and cackling telling him to come by to play again some time. Had Gotham's City Spirit lead her Knight and his child to Danny? Probably. She seemed like the type. At least she seems to like him? Silver linings.
"I'm never going there again," he muttered halfway to Illinois.
Storyboard
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#Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant#side story#danny's first adventure in gotham#gotham city#lady gotham#batman#robin#dick grayson as robin#bruce wayne as batman#very early days of batman#hopefully this gives some idea of the timeline#danny phantom#danny needs a nap#danny doesn't get paid enough fro this#dc means disregard canon right?#dcu#dp#dc x dp crossover#dp x dc#dcxdp#dp dc crossover#danny just wants to get this over with without ending up any deader than he was before#is that too much to ask?#this is very much crack#this is also very self indulgent#a little comedy after last time#a palate cleanse#maybe a bribe
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Fun witchy things to spice up your school/uni/college year
School/uni starts in late Jan/late Feb here in Australia so leave me alone if you're already in the middle of your school year lol /hl. These are just a few things I did when I was in HS and intend to do now that I'm going to university next year.
Enchant your water bottle with cleansing/purifying energy. The water will cleanse your energy this way. I do this to help me chill the fuck out. I do not do well with academics and the last thing I need is to pick up other people's stress.
Draw sigils for academic success in the back of your notebooks and planners.
Try binding your hair or veiling this school year! It doesn't have to be for religious reasons, it can just be to protect your energy.
Colour code your books or folders to what you need from each subject and set the intention accordingly! For example, red for math because you need confidence and strength or green for science because you need some extra luck in that subject.
Do you remember the erasers with yes and no written on them? Yeah! Make one of those and flip it for on the fly divination! It actually works if you put enough intention into it and it's a fun way to pass time.
Use colour magick in your outfits and shoes/shoe laces! This is a lot of effort so I've rarely do it but I've heard a lot of good things from people who regularly do. Just be careful that you don't accidentally send a nasty lace code message with your docks (or other boots) and shoe laces.
More colour magick but get coloured pens that correspond with your wanted intention! The ink could be coloured or just the outside, it's up to you.
If you pack your own lunch try your hand at some kitchen magick this year! Deli meats, bread, butter, pasta, tofu, etc all have their own uses and meanings. You can do some amazing stuff with food! I really recommend you try it at least once :)
Set your computer's folders names to affirmations or intentions! "I have incredible grades" "I respect my physical and mental needs" "I have the perfect work/school/life balance" are all examples.
This is less about school/uni/college but enchant any jewellery you wear with protection or dedicate it to a deity!
Again, not super school related but do a glamour spell with your skin care and/or make up. It just puts me in a good mood and sets the tone for the day.
I hope you enjoyed! As always, suggestions and tips are more than welcome :)
#witchblr#witchcraft#paganism#hellenic polytheism#pagan witch#witch#witches#baby witch#beginner witch#intermediate witch#witch tips#kitchen witch#witchy#magick#witchythings#pagan#wicca#T's original witchy posts
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uggghhhhhhh putting a face mask on ani fucking getss me.
he was sitting on your vanity chair, resting against your fluffy white blanket that was draped over the back of it. he insisted that if he was going to let you put a face mask on him that he needed to be as close to you as he could.
so, thats how you ended up with your face inches away from your boyfriend, your legs straddling his body as he looked up at you dazed.
"ani, stop moving. i'm gonna mess it up!" you voiced as he kept wriggling under you while you were painting the clay green tea mask over his forehead "yeah? can't help what you do to me baby, sitting on top of me like this" the smirk ever so present on his face. "you asked me to!" you unintentionally raised your hips as you whined, slamming back down on him unknowingly in frustration.
anakin let out a hearty groan, quickly grabbing your hips to halt your actions. "angel, if you really want to finish this mask thing, then you're gonna have to stop moving on me like that" you looked down at him, the contact with his only boxer clad crotch finally getting to you as you nodded. he watched intently at the way your eyes were now glazed over, how hard you were gripping the brush you used to apply the face mask with and how your hips were involuntary shifting above him.
he took this as his chance, slowly entering his ring and pointer finger in his mouth and getting them wet. you didn't notice this though, to busy with distracting your self with the mask application so you didn't accidentally grind on top of him more.
he slowly brought his hand to the top of your tiny sleeping shorts, little hearts decorating the fabric and a little pink bow resting in the middle of the cream coloured waistband. you were perfect, beautiful, amazing, soft and everything anakin could ever ask for, the mere thought of you could make him bust right there and then. he began to dip his hands into your shorts, inching them closer to your core.
your eyes immediately snapped down to your boyfriends veiny hand making its way to your centre, letting out a shaky breath. "ani, what are you doing?" your voice was nothing louder than a whisper, any louder and you would let a moan slip out of your mouth.
he looked up at you innocently, brushing his unoccupied gloved hand through your hair. "nothin' baby. just keep doin your thing, try not to get any in my eyes, yeah? wouldn't know what i'd do if i couldn't look at your pretty face everyday." you shakily nodded before ani's voice echoed in your head about 'using your words' so you followed in up with a quiet "yes, ani"
"atta' girl" he smirked, before looking down at your shorts again, his fingers now making contact with your heat. he began running his middle finger through your folds as his thumb made its way to your clit.
you gripped the makeup brush with your hand as your knuckles turned white, biting your lip so hard you were scared you were gonna draw blood. as you were running the green paste down his nose, you felt the first finger enter you.
he heard you gasp as he began pumping his finger in and out of your heat, starting slow before speeding up to a ruthless pace. you tried your best to focus on impressing ani with how perfect your mask applications skills were, but the second his second finger entered you, you were done for.
he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, struggling to fit both his fingers into you. "shit baby, you're so fucking tight, pussy gripping my fingers like a fuckin' vice."
you whimpered at his words, finally abandoning the brush as you dug your nails into his shirtless back. he grinned up at you as your head buried into his neck, proud he made you incapable of finishing the task he so did not want you to complete.
"a-ani, g-gonna cum" you moaned "cmon pretty girl, let it all go"
he heard you let out one last gasp before he felt you spasm around his fingers, breathing loudly into his neck. he slowly changed the pace of his fingers, working you through your orgasm before removing his fingers from inside of you.
he chuckled at how dazed you looked from him, rubbing your back with his hand softly.
he took the chance of your tired out state to take a glance at himself in the mirror. "hey! i look like master yoda!" he exclaimed, reaching his finger up to touch the wet light green paste on his face.
"do not talk about yoda after fingering me anakin skywalker."
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White book that BadBoyHalo found in Pomme's adoption chamber (22 pages) .
Text version and other pages under the cut:
" Once upon a time, there were three little eggs.
Three little siblings.
Full of life, they were happy to live. They loved playing with each other, and fell asleep at night while hugging each other.
They didn't know the reason of their existence, they didn't know anything about themselves, but they knew they had each other and it was all that mattered.
It wasn't an easy life they were living, but they had each other and everything was fine.
Full of love, they were kind souls at heart. Mischievous souls, they were having fun playing pranks together on their caretakers.
Sometimes, it was just playing hide and seek with them, finding all the best places to hide in these big white rooms, that were mostly empty.
Some other times, it was just taking some pencils and drawing on the walls with them.
And you may think, "what little devils they were!", but these three little eggs were always trying their very best to make their caretakers happy.
And they did everything they wanted them to do.
Being an experiment wasn't an easy life for them. Each day, they had to go through several batteries of tests.
Sometimes painful, sometimes not.
Sometimes, they swore they could hear a strange cracking sound, and the tests always immediately stopped, and the people around them were running frantically trying to find a way to heal them. Eventually, they were put to sleep and woke up feeling alright again.
Being an egg wasn't an easy life.
But despite how hard it was, the bedroom of these three little eggs was always filled with Laughter.
After all, they were only full of love to give.
These three little eggs were slowly discovering life.
All three of them loved flowers very much.
The first one loved poppies, the second one loved cornflowers, and the last one loved red coloured saplings.
One fell in love with music and playing instruments after a specific test studying reactions to sounds.
Another one fell in love with the snow after a specific test studying reactions to cold environments.
And the last one dreamed of living in a castle someday, after stumbling upon some fairy tales books for children.
Life wasn't easy. But they started having dreams, and were full of hope.
One sinister day, their caretakers didn't show up. It was other people instead. People who looked almost the same, but wore different clothes.
Because of their blank faces, it was impossible to guess what they could be thinking or what were their intentions. But something felt wrong.
Next thing these little eggs knew, they were separated from each other. Feeling lost, they felt anxiety overcoming them. A sense of dread filled them, wondering if it was time for them to start panicking or not. But brave little eggs they were, they just kept following these strange persons.
Eventually, they were led into very small rooms. Very tiny and cramped ones.
They got put into little glass cages, and they weren't able to go out of them by themselves.
Surely, it was just another test, right? They were used to it.
Everything was going to be fine.
The strange blank figures, although faceless, seemed to stare at them for a few seconds, completely silent. And without a word, they turned their backs and started to leave the rooms.
They closed the access to it, and silence filled the rooms even more.
And then, the little eggs started waiting.
They waited, full of hope these people would come back for them.
They waited.
They waited.
They waited.
No one came.
The days passed by. Each day felt harder than the previous one, each day felt more lonely. The hunger was unbearable, being more and more painful each day.
Eventually, they started giving up on hope to be found. But sometimes, you shouldn't give up on hope. Sometimes, you shouldn't let hope go away.
On a bright day of Spring, flowers were blooming. The wind was humming a soft melody. On April 15th, 2023, a little egg was found in an attic.
A month later, a plane crashed. Five French speakers survived. On May 16th, 2023, another little egg was found inside of a wall.
Some more months later, a detective walked into a room. journal was found. On August 30th, 2023, it was too late for this little one.
The first two survived, and despite how hard it was to survive on this island, they were still happy to live.
They had dreams and kept hoping for a better future, with their new-found adoptive families.
The two survivors became sisters again. They didn't know why, but both felt a connection with each other. Both felt very attached to memories.
At the end, they never really forgot Hope. "
#qsmp#qsmp hope#qsmp bbh#qsmp pomme#qsmp lullah#qsmp archivists#maaan the sad ending with sweet aftertaste#o7 u all we are not surviving tomorrow
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Can I just say how in love I am with the way you draw Marika? Like every art you post of her has my jaw dropping…you add such a beautiful layer of humanity to her with her dynamic expressions and poses—it’s so refreshing to see especially when so many fan arts of her needlessly sexualize her or dial her down to a one-dimensional stone-faced villain (which a villain she is—but she is still complex)
And I adore how you draw her partial nudity as something natural, meaning that you don’t draw her without a top for the sake of objectifying her,
Your art is overall so pleasant and colourful and fun to look at, and your takes of Marika’s character in your fanart is literally what made me more interested in who she is in-game.
Thank you for drawing her the way you do! (And for drawing Elden Ring fanart in general💕)
i've been letting this ask stewing in my inbox for a while because it makes me so emotional 🥲
if you look at how i drew Marika before anything in the DLC was announced, it did fall into the two categories you were talking about, because despite having a little more positive view on her than the rest of the fandom at the time, i still had no idea who she was as a person. and by that time i were more interested in Malenia, so even though i did try to envision how Marika was, it's a very distant and vague image. which is what i love about Elden Ring lore in general: we see Marika via how her children see her.
it was easy back then to conclude we'd never get her, and "mother" is a distant term that will always be overshadowed by "God", so i just went along with the general haha evil sexy girlboss thing that the fandom was doing. but then the DLC teaser dropped the another elusive (possibly firstborn) child of her, with a statue of her holding a baby in his boss room, she started to get more little quirks that's so human in my work (the small smile, the little lock of hair that curls gently) because for the first time, we see her through the eye of a son that evidently adores her, so she gets a bit more human, because someone views her with emotions that are not fear nor distance.
then the DLC drops, and it's not just through Messmer's eye (or the entirety of his being that carry so much of her love it weighs him down and twist into the most horrible curse in the end), it's through the eyes of her family that were no longer there at all. it's the jar innard enemy that huddled in a jar and clutched at a piece of raw meat, it's the Grandmother's gentle smile as she rest among a sea of flowers, it's the solitary minor erdtree that bathed the whole place in the kindness of gold, it's the Fire Knights and soldiers that clearly viewed her as Mother as much as she was God, it's Miquella throwing away his love and doubt because he didn't know how to deal with the revelation that his mother was once a fallible human just like the rest of them, it's Trina's entreaty that Godhood was just a cage that would kill him slowly, it's the final boss music with the female voice belting "Hail, Marika the Eternal" - in the place where she had to wade through a sea of flesh and blood, her family included, to ascend to Godhood. it's finally understanding that to her, Eternity is to live for all her loved ones that have fallen down.
and somehow, it all comes back to this portrait at the base game, right at the Roundtable Hold, of a woman with permanently lowered eyes.
yeah i know after the DLC i've put on such a Messmer-style protective glasses for her, it shows very clearly in my art. now she could cry, looks sad, small smile, big smile, looks silly, looks cute, looks serious, her hair is pulled up in twenty different ways, she jokes and talks to animals and goes back to be just a simple young girl rolling around in the grass, blah blah... im drawing all these with eyes wide open. and i have no intention of stopping lol.
sometimes, things that already come alive will never go back to be a cardboard cutout anymore. if ppl don't like it, block me or whatever, in my space, i'll do that makes me happy. and im very glad that other ppl could find their own happiness and solace with my work too :) thank you for such a thoughtful and kind messages!
#ask#anon#reply#golden doomed mother and son#er brainrot#as a general consensus it should be evident to everyone that fromsoft wont just make a character a parent for the hell of it after sekiro 😂#asians do not play when it comes to portraying family ties i fear#and fromsoft doesn't play when it comes to mothers#kos-orphan yharnam-her baby ebrietas the whole of BB srl then Tomoe-Gennichiro Gwynevere/ mother of rebirth / queen of lothric#now ER#yeah
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Can I just say, I really love how you draw the characters, specifically Anya and Curly, they're the favorites.
The way you personalise the characters (if that's the word?) is so nice to see and the features and details involved; even the use of the colours for each character, love it. Out of the three users I frequently check, you're up there because honestly, anytime there's any new doodles from you, it brings a smile to my face and I don't know how to describe it.
You're the reason I go back to stalking Tumblr because there's artwork to look forward to now. This includes other artists in the same space; I love the comics that look more into the characters.
Anyways, have a lovely day 👏
Tysmmmm :') Can't even describe how high of a praise this is to me and how much it means to be told that I'm an artist that someone goes out of their way to check up on.
Being told I'm a reason that someone uses Tumblr is SO crazy, because to me, I'm just a guy who is deranged and overly passionate about Mouthwashing and did not expect to blow up and have people look at the art I make so intently :'')
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Chapter X: APPROACH
Masterlist
Pairing: Patrick Zweig x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan
Warnings: Angst.
Author's Note: I'm not going to apologize for what I've done, but I will apologize for uploading this chapter 10 minutes late.
GIF Source: @/spookyrps
2019. New Rochelle.
There was no music in the elevator, you noticed. You were alone with your thoughts that echoed back and forth in the chamber of your mind. Sleep didn't come easy the night before, even with the help of the prescribed sleeping pills you hardly ever reached for. After all these years, being face-to-face with Art still managed to draw a reaction from you. One that didn't make much sense. You were a different person now, as he was. Things had happened, and you had changed. Knowing that you were in the same building as Art Donaldson, separated by mere floors, shouldn't make you toss and turn in your bed. You were such a fool; you scolded yourself. He probably slept fine next to his gorgeous wife, with their adorable child in the room next to theirs.
Your likeness on the glossy surface of the elevator door appeared well-kempt, but it wasn't a truthful reflection of how you felt on the inside. The little makeup you used did its job, concealing the dark circles and adding colours to your face. Right there along the seam of yourself was the fatigue, worming its way into the slight slouch in your posture, weighing down your body's effort in keeping it upright. Remembering how your mom used to strike at your upper back so you would sit up straight, you straightened up out of an innate reflex.
The elevator door opened to reveal the first floor. You headed for the hallway Jennifer had led you down, barely passing the peripheral of Art as he stood there in the lobby, talking to a man you didn't recognize. You kept your face away from his direction and quickened your pace, hoping he hadn't spotted you yet. You sighed as the almost empty hallway welcomed you in, save for a couple of people ahead of you chattering about the seat placements. But the relief didn't last long. A familiar voice that you'd tried to forget for years called your name. The marble floor echoed the voice's owner's intention of catching up to you, hurried and rushed as if you were to disappear at any moment. You turned around, stopping him in his tracks – only a few steps from where you were standing.
Art was wearing casual attire, a fitted white t-shirt and black pants, yet he still managed to make them look phenomenal. He looked like he was about to head to practice. You remembered it, all those mornings after spending the night together, watching him getting ready for the day.
For a long moment, neither of you talked, only drinking each other in with your sights. Art broke the tension first, seeming to reprimand himself for staring at you.
"You look great."
"You, too."
You reciprocated, albeit a little cold. There was no reason for you to lie and no excuse for the conversation to be longer than it already was.
"It's good to see you."
You sighed and decided to cut to the chase.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here for a challenger."
"No, I meant here, right now."
You pointed to the distance between you. His answer lingered on the tip of his tongue, undecided, but eventually rolled off and made itself audible to your ears.
"I … I want to talk to you."
"We have nothing to talk about."
You shook your head. Art took one step closer to you.
"I know that I'm not entitled to your time, but I've missed you."
The latter part ignited the anger in you. How could he say that so easily? You scoffed at his audacity; your own response came with a bite that aimed to hurt.
"I don't think your wife will appreciate what you've just said."
To your surprise, at the mention of the sore subject for the two of you, his resolve remained unchanged.
"Tashi has nothing to do with this."
"She has everything to do with us."
"Not when she resents me."
For the first time in your tense exchange, you relented. You searched for Art's eyes, looking for a hint of betrayal, of deception, but instead, you found defeat. Your resolve softened, and you felt the familiar pull of a memory from when you first met at the Stanford cafeteria thirteen years ago. Two lonely people meeting one another, and now, finding themselves in each other's paths again.
But it should end here.
"Your marriage problem isn't my responsibility to solve."
"I know, and I'm not asking you to. I just … want to talk about us."
You shrugged, keeping your tone nonchalant.
"There's no more us."
At that moment, a mix of voices from a group of people came out from the conference room area, chatting among themselves. The two of you involuntarily took a small step away from each other as if the guilt by distance association was enough to make anyone suspicious. Art's desperation was clear as day.
"Can we talk somewhere else?"
You couldn't say no, so you settled for the next best thing.
"I have to go."
"Can you at least think about it?"
Art closed the distance, reaching for your hand. You were pliant to his gentle touches, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions that lapped at your conscience. A piece of paper was placed in your palm.
"Text me. I'll figure out something for us."
You said nothing to his promise and walked away; your skin felt hot from his touch. You headed straight for the conference room, and your hand slipped the note Art gave you into the pocket of your blazer.
Art's number had not been a resident in your contact for a very long time. You stared at the ten digits later that night in your room, and your fingers itched to do something about it. Burn it or throw it away; it didn't matter. You knew you should do either of those things, but in the end, you couldn't.
At about 12:40 AM, Art sent you the address to a local restaurant that was about a ten-minute drive from the hotel.
Tomorrow night. 7:30.
As the day drew closer to night, the knot in your stomach tightened even more in anticipation. You sat in the car in the restaurant's parking lot for a while despite being there early. When it was 7:38, knowing you couldn't delay it any longer, you straightened your simple outfit and walked into the restaurant. You were greeted by a bored hostess on a slow night; the place was almost empty, save for two other occupied spots. Art's table was in a more secluded area, where privacy was afforded by the enclosed booth with fake vines cascading down to the back of the leather seats in intricate weaves and big leaves. Art stood up when he saw you. The familiarity of the scene stirred a long-forgotten memory that happened seven years ago.
2012. Columbus, Ohio.
Your first book tour. After the reading and signing event, you were free to do whatever you wished, and that meant roaming the aisle of a grocery store, browsing for juice, painkillers and some chocolate. Your eyes pored over the nutritional value, or lack thereof, of a pack of chips when you felt a pair of eyes on you. That, on top of the fact that they wandered into your peripheral and hadn't made the slightest move. You did a double-take when you saw Patrick Zweig standing within arm's reach with a self-assuring smirk on his face.
"Hey. It's you."
"It's… you."
You echoed his recognition, but on the contrary to his amusement, yours was the faintest touch of dread.
"It's been a while."
"It has been. How are you?"
You turned to face him fully. He scratched the back of his head with his free hand.
"I'm … great! You?"
"I'm good. What are you doing here?"
Patrick looked around the aisle as if the answer was obvious.
"In this grocery store? I'm getting groceries."
You looked at the basket in his other hand. It was filled with chips, soda and some bananas.
"Right. No, I mean, in the city."
"I'm here for a challenger. Well, was."
"What happened?"
"I got eliminated."
He dipped his head and averted his eyes from yours, seeming embarrassed by the admission of the fact.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"That's alright. At least I'm $300 richer now."
Patrick gestured to you.
"What about you? What are you doing here?"
"I'm on a book tour."
"Ahh. Sounds like you're doing very well for yourself."
"Thank you."
You felt sheepish at his compliment. The two of you fell into a lull of silence, your eyes intertwined in a languid game of cat and mouse. Patrick looked like he wanted to tell you something, but you had nothing to say to him. So you broke the silence first.
"Well, uh, it's very nice to see you again. I should go."
He stepped forward, trying to capture your attention in the way his body language created an invisible enclosure that temporarily held you in.
"Wait. Can we go somewhere else to talk? I think we have a lot to talk about."
"Do we?"
You levelled him with an incredulous look. But he met you with earnestness.
"Yes, we do."
"I don't think so."
"They got married last month."
It took you a brief moment to understand. Still, his decision to break the news to you in an abrupt manner took you by surprise. Your heart seemed to drop into a bottomless pit, and you could feel the frantic beat of it thrumming along every inch of your skin. You quickly fixed your frown into a forced smile.
"Well, that's great to hear. I'm happy for them."
Patrick gave you a look that said your effort was all in vain.
"You don't mean that."
"We all have to move on at some point. Unlike you."
The venomous bite of your words didn't go unnoticed by the dark-haired man before you.
"If you knew what I know, then you would be just like me."
You scoffed, crossing your arms.
"Please, we're not the same. Stop being cryptic and just say what you want to say."
He tilted his head at you, an idea dancing in his blue eyes.
"How about this? I'll tell you over dinner. We can use some catching up."
Your lack of a response made him feel like he needed to apply a little pressure.
"You'll want to know what happened. Trust me."
You rolled your eyes. You couldn't believe you were seriously considering his offer. You exhaled deeply and decided then that spending some time with your ex's wife's ex-boyfriend was better than a night alone in the hotel room.
"Where and what time?"
His smirk deepened, and you wanted to wipe that off of his face.
"There's an Applebee's nearby. How about we meet up there … around 7?"
"Fine."
That was how you ended up here, sitting across from Patrick Zweig, sipping on a Rum and Coke while waiting for your food. Whatever he wanted to say to you might pair better with the taste of alcohol. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the sundress you wore just hours before when you ran into him.
"How's it going for you career-wise?"
Patrick took a sip of his drink to delay answering your question.
"Oh, you know, it's … good. I'm making a name for myself."
You recalled his grocery haul, the pair of shorts that resembled pyjama pants, and the state of his car when you arrived around the same time as he did. The interior was messy, with rolled-up socks and clothes draping all over the back seat, trash and parking tickets in the front. Doubt swelled in your head.
"Are you? I have a feeling that you wouldn't be sleeping in your car if that was the case."
A playful smile appeared on his lips.
"Ouch. The hostel I was staying in had bed bugs, so my car was the next best option. I'll go to a motel after this, though."
You hummed, thinking back about what Art had told you about Patrick.
"Isn't your family rich?"
"They are. Not me."
His long middle finger traced the rim of his drink in a pensive mood.
"Why don't you ask them for help?"
"I don't want to. Let's just say we always fail to come to an agreement when it comes to the choices that I've made."
Your acknowledgement came in the form of slow nods of your head. You understood him for not wanting to depend on your family for anything. It would only give them one more reason to call you a disappointment for daring to seek their help.
The waiter brought out your food, and your conversation was pulled into a lull of quietude as you ate your food. You dabbed the corner of your mouth for a drop of the creamy pasta sauce, while Patrick munched on three pieces of fries. You picked up what was left off moments ago.
"You're still privileged in a way, you know? You could give up and crawl back to your family's mansion. I'm sure they'll welcome you back with open arms."
"I could. But there's no fun in that. Besides, I prefer being a disappointment anyway."
You shared a small chuckle. Under the low light of the restaurant, you allowed yourself to take him in fully. Curly dark hair, contrasted with the soft edges of his face. The light stubble along his jaw added a rugged charm to his laid-back attitude. You couldn't help but compare him to Art. Patrick's confidence was loud, veering on cocky. Art's was quiet, but full of surprises when the moment called for it.
The heady allure of Patrick and his association with Art had started to draw up dangerous ideas in your mind. You inhaled sharply, your fingers rubbed your temple in small circles in an attempt to bring yourself back to the conversation. The one you needed to have the moment you settled in the booth of Applebee's.
"So … they got married."
"Yeah. Pretty recently. Didn't even get an invite."
A sardonic huff of air escaped your lips.
"Join the club. I found out about their engagement last year, but I didn't think …"
You trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. But the silence did it for you. Patrick nodded.
"Art moves fast. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And no one can tell him otherwise."
"I know it all too well."
"Little fucker."
You took a sip of your second Rum and Coke. A deep sigh escaped your lungs.
"I get it, though. She's beautiful, she's passionate about tennis. She can help him in ways that I can't."
At that, Patrick stayed quiet. His eyes took you in, all of your honesty and insecurity displayed in a glass case in front of him. You felt the briefest brush of vulnerability on your spine and shivered, but you ignored it. Despite the lack of dialogue and contact during the short period Patrick visited Stanford, your shared history ran deeper than the surface-level interaction that you had.
Patrick set down his burger and wiped his mouth with the napkin. His fingers created a rhythm on the wooden table, but then, the dull melody was cut short.
"Art is devoted to Tashi, but she's not."
"What do you mean?"
You prompted him to continue.
"Tennis is not everything to Art. But to Tashi, it is."
"I figured as much. It's not new news."
An inkling that Patrick was deliberately withholding information from you came to your mind. You sat up straighter, setting your fork down.
"Spill, Patrick."
He relented after a moment.
"I was in Atlanta last year. A couple of months after they got engaged."
You looked at him, unsure where he was going.
"Both of them were there for the Atlanta Open. I … saw Tashi in the hotel they were staying that night, and we … slept together."
You searched for a hint of deception in his face, only to come up with none. His face remained unreadable, betraying nothing, leaving only sincerity despite the irony of the situation. Your mouth opened, and closed, as you were at a loss for words. Patrick shrugged as if what he had just confessed was no more than a harmless, made-up tale.
"She wants an obedient little dog to carry out her fantasy of being a great tennis player. And Art is more than eager to do that for her."
He continued, seeming oblivious to your lack of response.
"She didn't seem happy, being engaged to Art. And if I can be honest, I think Tashi only likes Art because he's loyal to her to a fault, and he'll do anything to please her. I don't think she even loves him."
That somehow took you out of your bewildered state.
"Are you even listening to yourself? He was your best friend."
"My best friend? Who sabotaged my relationship, stole my girlfriend and basically abandoned me for her?"
Your rebuttal shot forward like a bullet out of its chamber.
"So you slept with her? To revenge? Even though she was engaged to Art? You're no better than him, Patrick. Two wrongs don't make one right."
You shook your head and couldn't help the thought that rolled off of your lips.
"You tennis players are such fucking assholes."
Patrick only nodded in agreement and didn't say anything. You sighed, asking the question you'd wanted to know.
"Does Art know?"
"I don't think so."
You shook your head, feeling a wave of fatigue taking over.
"I've had enough of you people. Just leave me alone."
He held his hands up in defence.
"All I'm saying is, you still have a chance if you want it."
You gave a rueful smile.
"Am I an idiot for wanting to believe you?"
He took his time, roaming over you with a pensive gaze. You felt exposed under it, after the confession you had never dared to verbalize out loud. Perhaps it was both of your positions in this game of tennis, the back and forth that inexplicably wove the four of you together in these intricate patterns, so tightly entangled with one another, that made you feel like Patrick would recognize. There was only understanding, and no judgement. The irony was that. Tennis was a simple game when you stripped it down to its barest principles, but the interconnection between everyone was anything but simple.
"No, you're not. You must really love him."
You looked down at your empty glass, unable to meet his eyes.
"I hate that I still feel this way about him."
Even though both of you were hurt by Art, you couldn't help the question that came afterward.
"Do you miss him?"
Patrick was his best friend, and Art was his. They had a life-long history between them that you weren't privy to. Your pain and his were different in kind, but you could understand all the same.
"I do."
The rest of the meal was cast in a sombre hue, with both of you mulling over a mutual understanding and the similarities you shared. Neither of you was the winner, but that didn't matter now.
/
"You didn't have to pay for my meal as well."
He said as you walked together to his car. You came here by taxi, and Patrick had offered to give you a ride back to your hotel. You waved a dismissive hand.
"Don't mention it. Giving me a ride back is enough."
His car was only within a few strides away when Patrick stepped in front of you.
"I can do more than that, you know? To pay you back."
"How?"
"I, we, can make Art jealous."
You halted and repeated your previous question. He arched an eyebrow, his expression said nothing but trouble, and when understanding dawned on you, you levelled him with a glare.
"No. Sleeping with you is the last thing I need right now."
"Who said anything about sleeping?"
You scoffed at the obvious bait, sidestepping him to reach the passenger side of his car.
"We can make out, take a photo, and I'll send it to Art. Make him realize what he's missing."
"If you want to kiss me, just say that. No need to make up excuses."
You rolled your eyes at him and realized just how much closer Patrick was to you than moments ago. He dipped his head to look at you, his gaze traced the shape of your lips and drifted to your eyes. When he spoke, his voice softened, low and careful, and your curiosity responded, pushing back the guard your inhibition had put up.
"I really do."
He leaned in, and you rose on your tiptoes to meet his lips. The touch was gentle and slow at first as you tested the pieces you needed to fit together. Then Patrick took over, and you followed his lead. His presence was all-encompassing, sweeping over your senses. Your lips lapsed and locked together in a feverish rhythm, a playful and exhilarating chase of lust. His tongue prodded at your entrance, and you opened yourself up to him. Your tongues intertwined, determined to draw whatever you needed from the other.
You didn't know when Patrick had pushed you up against his car, but you were grateful as your strength had become dependent on him. The cold metal of his car and the solid yet soft feel of his body created delicious friction on your skin. You grasped at each other's body, groping and pulling, your lips barely parted for a much-needed gulp of air. He grunted when you bit his lower lip, and that earned you a harsh, handful squeeze of your ass under your sundress. Your body called to his, and yet, a small part of your mind beckoned you to resurface, to come to the admission of the truth that you had been running away from.
Your ardour exchange slowed as you parted to breathe. Still, you met each other in the middle for brief touches, and you eventually pulled away. Patrick's thumb rubbed at the curve of your bottom lip as if he were admiring his work of art, which was swollen and glistening with his mark. His whisper was warm on your lips.
"Did you think about him?"
You nodded and swallowed.
"Did you think about her?"
It took him a moment, but he nodded. A woeful smile graced your swollen lips.
"I don't think this is a good idea."
"Revenge is always a good idea."
You touched his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes.
"You don't win by sleeping with me. I don't want to be a perpetual pawn in the game that all three of you play. Besides, I don't think Art cares anymore."
Patrick shook his head.
"About what happened all those years ago? Maybe not. But I think he still cares about you."
"It doesn't make a difference though, does it?"
"I guess not."
You playfully and gently pushed him back, making Patrick set you down on your own shaky legs. Your front brushed against his arousal, and you bit your bottom lip in amusement.
"Come on, you still have to drive me back."
Before getting out of his car in front of your hotel, you reached for his hand.
"It was nice to see you again, Patrick. I really mean it."
His hand came up to meet yours, giving it a soft squeeze.
"You, too. I'm glad that we got to catch up."
You left his car without saying another word. Your heart was heavy, but at ease. Moving on and forward was your only option, but it felt much easier now. Still, you wished you would never have to see any of them ever again.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!
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#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x female reader#art donaldson x f!reader#art donaldson x y/n#art donaldson fic#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson fanfic#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#challengers#challengers fic#challengers x reader#challengers x you#challengers x y/n#challengers 2024#challengers movie#art donaldson x tashi duncan
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Raining chocolates (Jack Frost x Reader)
Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.
Other oneshots can be found here.
[ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴠɪᴇᴡꜱ ᴏɴ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇꜱ!
ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.
— Are they arguing again? — Tooth looked uncertainly towards the hall.
— Yes but at least the chocolate boxes are flying! — North caught the package mid-flight.
Satisfied, he tore the dark red, shiny paper. Inside he found a mixture of pralines. He was trying to decide which flavour he should choose when a snowball flew above his head. Unfazed, he decided to eat the entire package at once.
— Maybe we should separate them? — The fairy was nervously flying next to the fireplace.
— That's what I'm talking about! — The Bunny wiped the snow from his face.
Judging by the dirt on his paws, he had just jumped out of the tunnel. He didn't like the welcome snowball straight to the forehead.
— I do not see a problem. — Santa continued to eat the best nut chocolates.
He was interrupted by a loud bang.
He rushed towards the argument. The corridor looked like a battlefield. The entire batch of robots was lying on the floor. Dolls and blocks followed suit. The production machine turned off. There were screws and wires sticking out of it. The paint poured straight onto the carpet, dyeing it rainbow colors. Yeti, in charge of production, was sitting in the corner. He covered his head with one paw and stuffed chocolate hearts with the other. Two Guardians stood in the colourful chaos.
— Valentine's Day should be joyful! — Jack Frost was making a new snowball in his hands.
— Get on with your job! — [Reader] deftly dodged the throw.
— North, good to have you here! Tell her. Love is a beautiful, joyful feeling, isn't it? So the holiday should be like that too! — he said as if it were the most obvious truth.
— You know nothing! Who is the Spirit of Valentine's Day here? You or me?
The girl took out her bow. In a second, she reached for an arrow from the pink quiver. She was already drawing the string when a loud voice interrupted her:
— Enough of this! I don't care who started it — North added as the two prepared to explain. — You'll clean it all up. Every single toy, got it?
***
— You know what she once told me? — North put his arm around Jack. — That love is ten percent joy and ninety percent suffering. Do not interrupt me. — He glared as he saw the guard open his mouth. — She has good reason to think so. I don't agree with her but I don't question her work and neither should you.
They had already passed the main hall and three floors and the boy was beginning to wonder where they were going. It took him a while to understand the purpose of the strangely long trip.
North grabbed him by the hood and then unceremoniously pushed him over the threshold of the room. When the boy heard the lock click, he knew something was up.
— But it's a bit inhumane. — He heard Toothiana's voice from behind the door.
— They didn't act like humans when they demolished the quarters! And now they will sit there until they make up!
The winter spirit yanked on the doorknob. Unsuccessfully.
He turned around and saw what he feared most. [Reader] was sitting on the couch. She was slowly realizing the situation they were in. A closed room without windows made escape impossible. If they want to leave, they have to come to an agreement.
He walked over to the sofa and sat down on the opposite end from his companion. He stared stubbornly at the fireplace. Orange flames licked the pieces of wood. They produced unbearable heat. The winter spirit didn't like it. He would much rather have the fire extinguished but he had no intention of moving. [Reader] was getting cold quickly. Why did he even care? He convinced himself that it would escalate the argument and left it at that. Because there's no way he would care about her...
Out of boredom, he started counting the seconds. He wanted to estimate the time he would spend in the room. However, he quickly gave up. Instead, he pulled the nearest pillow, placed it under his head, and decided to take a nap.
— Did he bring you here too, saying he wanted to talk? — The spirit of Valentine's Day couldn't stand the silence.
— Yeah — he muttered.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl shift uncomfortably.
— So maybe we can pretend we've made up and just leave here, huh?
The boy turned his head towards her. He hadn't expected it but the idea was tempting.
— I'm in. — He smiled mischievously.
He was already getting up from the couch when the plan backfired.
— I heard everything, you cheaters. You two should really get along! — Santa shouted from behind the door. — I'll know if you lied to me!
There was a slight threat in his tone.
— North, you weren't supposed to eavesdrop! — Toothiana's loud voice joined the conversation. — Don't disturb mind him, little ones! — she added sweetly.
For a moment, a scuffle could be heard. Then the sounds gradually faded away. Apparently they're gone.
Resigned, the boy sat back down between the soft pillows. Now the idea of using tricks stopped running through his mind. First of all, it would be suspicious. Secondly, although he didn't want to admit it, he was a little afraid of the Guardian of Christmas. His pleasant exterior concealed a weird man.
He decided to look at the room. Unfortunetely, it was empty. The brown boards were starting to get old. The wallpaper with a motif of red and green baubles was eye-catching. The thick, heavy curtains showed traces of dust. Frost preferred not to know the last time someone decided to swipe it out. Seeing the gray layer on the mantelpiece, he felt the urge to clean the room. Unfortunately, even if he wanted to kill time this way, he had no way to do it. The yeti probably took out the rest of the furniture. As always. Why were they doing this? Nobody knew that. When asked about this, the creatures grunted in their own language and continued doing their thing. For this reason, rearrangements in the quarters were frequent. Sometimes even the owner of the bed woke up in a different place than where he fell asleep.
Unfortunately, the tour did not kill the boredom. It was too short.
Jack sat behind the couch and started playing with his staff. He conjured two snow hares. He bet on who would reach the finish line first. He set his end point at the other end of the room. Later he started changing animal species. He wasn't having the best time but he couldn't think of anything else.
— Can you make buildings too? — [Reader]'s voice came from above.
She leaned out from the couch, looking at the frosty creations jumping, running, crawling, and swimming across the floor.
— Yes, of course. Any special requests? — He turned around.
It was a reflex. The Guardian of Fun did not refuse to give joy to others. Especially when it was within his capabilities. Only after a while did it occur to him that they were still quarreling, so maybe he shouldn't break away so eagerly.
— Could you make a hut?
Frost's first instinct was to create his family home but he suspected that wasn't the point.
— A little more sloping roof — added the girl — and an orchard on the left.”
The boy listened attentively, following the instructions. Soon, a snow model was created. The house was surrounded by a fence. Little cows and pigs were grazing nearby. They were also accompanied by a troop of hens led by a rooster. The Spirit of Winter had a slight problem with the flowers. He didn't know much and suspected that the garden turned out hopelessly. But he had trees in his little finger. Probably because he often jumped on them, playing with the wind.
— I guess that's all.
He didn't even notice when the Guardian of Love took a seat next to him on the hard boards. She stared as if enchanted at the image stretching before her. The smile that graced her face let him know that he had done a good job after all. There was a lot of melancholy in her look.
— It this your home? — he asked.
— Yeah... — She touched a small sheep in the middle of the pasture. — It was until... until I became... you know.
Dead. This word came to mind. Their friends would probably think about their jobs. They'd put it more like: Before I became a Guardian... They stopped being alive a long time ago. However, like him, she was relatively young. As young as you can be after several hundred years. She still remembered.
— I drowned. — He felt like his own voice sounded foreign.
Why exactly did he tell her that? After all, she didn't ask him anything.
However, he continued the story when he saw her break away from the model.
Jack still remembered the brown, worn-out skates. He rode them across the frozen lake. He was fourteen then. He was doing quite well. No one in the village could ride so nimbly. His younger sister was just studying. She took uncertain steps. She was getting better and better. After all, she was doing it under his supervision. And yet, that afternoon, it would all end. The crunch of ice that heralded disaster was still ringing in his ears. He tried to get Mary to jump aside. Just like in Hopscotch — a game he once invented. He failed and instinctively used the staff. It was enough to push her to safety. However, he landed underwater himself. The feeling of momentary relief was replaced by shock. He tried desperately to breathe. Jack couldn't find any support for his hands. The cold seeped into his bones. He was unable to get out of the icy water. The longer he fought, the faster he lost strength. Later, in a hazy memory, he still remembered going to the bottom. Jack was surrounded by darkness and piercing cold. He closed his eyes from exhaustion. The next time he opened his eyes, the Moon was above him. Then he was spared a second life. So much time had passed, and yet the memory was still fresh. Especially after he lost them to the Black and fought to get them back.
[Reader] wordlessly placed her hand on his own. She didn't say anything but he knew she understood. It wasn't easy to forget about your death. Nor come to terms with a lost life but watching the people he loved grow old and pass away seemed the cruelest thing to him.
— They sentenced me to beheading — she said in a quiet voice.
He didn't push. He had no right to do this. He was surprised when she continued.
The story began with an ordinary day in the countryside with her boyfriend. He was a serious candidate for a fiancé. He worked as a castle assistant. Frost began to wonder exactly how many years ago the Spirit of Valentine's Day had died. If she remembered such times, she must have been older than he had previously thought. Due to these thoughts, Jack lost the thread of the story until she started talking about the theft.
Thanks to his work, the boy easily stole a jewel from a rich lord's box. As luck would have it, the family brooch would attract the attention of every neighbour in the area. Lack of sufficient caution resulted in a denunciation. The devastated [Reader] didn't know what to do. Until he said he wanted to spend the money on a wedding. Something broke inside her. Ultimately, what tipped the scales was the fact that he had a family to support. She was just an orphan working on a farm. She decided to sacrifice herself. With a heavy heart, she went to the castle, where she confessed her guilt. No one asked how on earth she could do it, since no one would even let her into the salons. Yet the court seemed satisfied. No attention was even paid to the lies and ambiguities. They omitted the absurdities contained in them. Another head-to-head trial meant a quicker break.
From the whole story, one sentence stuck in Frost's mind: I will never love anyone like I love you. This is what the thief promised to the Spirit of Valentine's Day before she sacrificed herself for him. He sensed this would be important from the way she quoted it. As if she had engraved it in her memory, somewhere deep in her mind.
— Do you know what happened when I got a second life? — she sighed. — That I died just so he could marry another woman. He waited a week. Week. Apparently he was counting on my naivety and he succeeded. — She went back to playing with the snow model.
— I'm sorry. — He wasn't sure if a cliché could do any good.
Such sentences rarely brought relief. They were repeated out of habit. Probably because people had no words for certain situations.
— You don't have to be sorry. — She smiled slightly. — You gave me a lot of joy, as befits the Guardian of Fun. I was able to see the farm where I grew up once again.
— Have you been there?
— A few times. Today there are lots of apartment blocks there. It has changed over the years. — She shrugged and looked at him. — Do you know why I told you all this?
He thought she was trying to repay history for history. And yet this wasn't the answer she was counting on. So he fell silent.
— Because I see love differently than you. Over the course of four hundred and fifty-two years, I have encountered so many different shades of this feeling that you can't even imagine. I consoled those crying after the loss of loved ones. I have seen mothers sacrifice themselves for the sake of their children. How people die from diseases, away from their loved ones. And also how they spend their old age together and overcome problems together. That's why I think I'm a better Guardian of Love than the Spirit of Valentine's Day. I help people celebrate what is important every day. This one day of the year is not that special. So please don't interfere with my work anymore, she concluded. — I'll stay in my quarters on the 14th. This holiday will be fine without me, just like before.
— Let's say I agree, although I still think you should go out and see people having fun... — He noticed how much she wanted to interrupt him —...but I won't question the way you work anymore. Okay? — He held out his hand.
— Okay. Now let's go shout some more. Maybe they'll hear that it's time to let us go. There is absolutely nothing to do here.
***
— If this is some stupid joke, I swear you'll get an arrow up your ass… — [Reader] muttered.
Jack didn't blame her for complaining. She was blindfolded, so he led her by the hand. He didn't think this through. He should have handed it over only at the bottom of the stairs. So he had to deal with an uncomfortable situation for three floors. He even offered to let them fly with a staff but the Guardian of Love wouldn't hear of it.
— Almost there! — He removed the cloth, revealing the headquarters.
He was glad that the yetis had managed to repaint the decorations. The blue color would spoil the whole effect. Now they could admire the rows of red and pink hearts. They decorated every corner. Soft pillows in the same color were placed on the sofa and in front of it. They also managed to repair the TV. Although there was never any reception here, the player worked flawlessly. Tooth was sorting through a pile of old films. Bunny kept complaining that she only chose romantic comedies. He preferred to see a bloody horror movie. Sandy was almost asleep standing up, sending sand hearts up from time to time. Behind him, on the table, there were mixed chocolates. North was stuffing himself with them, so Frost kept the rest of his food supplies in his room. Otherwise, they might run out quickly and the fun was only just beginning.
— Why doesn't this surprise me? — The girl rubbed her temple.
— Just so we're clear, I'm not interfering with your work. — He rested his head on his staff. — I do my duty. I jumped at the chance and we're going to have a fun evening.
He gave her his trademark smile. He was surprised to see that she didn't yell at him after all. He was secretly pleased with it, although he hadn't counted on it. She also seemed to be having a good time with her friends.
Valentine's Day night passed quickly. Hardly anyone made it to the morning. After three movies, most Guardians were teary-eyed. Jack sat between the snoring Bunny and [Reader], who was sprawled on his shoulder. He was uncomfortable but he didn't move. He didn't want to wake anyone up. The movie was still playing. Frost didn't focus on the plot. Everything that was happening started to escape him a few scenes ago. He pulled a small heart out of his sweatshirt pocket. They handed out shiny pieces of paper to each other. Everyone had to write something nice about the other person. They promised not to read them until the next day but purely theoretically the new day had already lasted for several hours. So he smiled to himself, satisfied with this justification and opened all the Valentines one by one.
Thank you.
That one word let him know he had done a good job. Maybe next year he'll be able to take her out to celebrate with others.
PS Will you be my Valentine?
This sentence, in turn, sent a rush of heat through him. He was used to embarrassing others, not being embarassed. And certainly not like this. The matter was explained by the other side of the heart. Marked with marker:
YOU'VE BEEN FOOLED!
He promised himself that he would never admit that she was right. In the morning he will pretend that he saw it after all. This was the plan. However, somewhere in the corner of his mind there was the thought of what he would do if it wasn't a joke...
#jack frost x reader#rise of guardians x reader#bunnymund#tooth fairy#north#valentines#oneshot x reader
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does bug ever have a hard time grasping the concept of why quinn leaves for a while for w certain anount of time when she was younger? does she ever cry about it? how does quinn deal with it?
Hmmm not really, no.
Bug is just the happiest, chillest little kid. She’s so independent and easygoing, not clingy at all, which makes the whole 'child of a hockey dad' thing work so smoothly for everyone, and because of that, she handles Quinn’s travel schedule incredibly well. It’s all she’s ever known, so for her, it’s just part of life. But just after her first birthday, the off season starts, and she has him home all summer long so when the season starts back up again, there’s a little adjustment period. She notices his absence more — not in a meltdown, tear-filled way, but in the small moments, like looking around for him when he’d normally be there or toddling over to the front door to check if he’s home yet. She misses him, of course, but she’s so secure and settled that it’s not a big upheaval.
Quinn is really intentional about it, though. It’s never just “daddy leaves, daddy comes back” — there’s structure and there’s love. He’s built the sweetest little routines with her, ones that make his comings and goings feel steady and full of love, so that they're never abrupt or jarring for her. The morning before he leaves, he always makes her favourite banana pancakes for breakfast, and while he’s on the road, he FaceTimes her every evening at the same time, without fail. It’s her moment to chatter away about her day, holding up her toys or showing off her newest drawing, and he listens like she’s the most important person in the world — because to him, she is.
I’ve written before about how Quinn sends flowers to reader and Bug whenever he’s on a roadie, a routine that started when she was just a tiny baby, and now that she’s gotten older, she anticipates their arrival, squealing with excitement every time there’s a knock at the door. She loves guessing what colour the flowers will be, and when they arrive, she’ll carry the bouquet around the house like it’s a prize, showing them off to anyone who’ll listen.
And when he comes home? That’s always a big moment. The second he walks through the door, she’s in his arms, wrapped in the biggest hug, kissing his cheeks a million times if that’s what she feels like doing. He makes a point to sit with her and ask her everything she’s been up to.
“Catch me up, Bug,” he’d say, grinning as she eagerly tells him about everything she did while he was away, letting her babble on about the smallest details.
These thoughtful gestures keep her world feeling steady, even when it shifts. For Bug, her little universe remains perfectly intact because Quinn makes sure of it. She knows what to expect, knows she’s always on his mind, and that certainty keeps her settled, her days full of joy and security. To anyone else, the chaos of a hockey season might seem disruptive, but for Bug, her daddy being on the road is just another part of life — one that makes perfect sense because he’s always found a way to show her that she’s loved.
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Harry giggles. His limbs feel lighter than usual, almost as if bubbles are making them float a bit. He can still control them, but it's a vague, interesting sort of control. Fun.
Harry lets sleep take him. The world whirls around him in sparks of disorienting colours, and Harry watches with a broad smile. It should make him dizzy, but he feels in the middle of something fantastic—a watercolour painting come to life. It's brilliant. Elating.
It stops as suddenly as it starts. Voldemort stares at him from across a desk. "Harry Potter," he sounds almost surprised.
Harry blinks at him. He still feels light, like he is floating, but also distantly sad. "Are you okay?" he asks thoughtlessly.
Confusion masks itself behind anger. Voldemort masks everything behind anger. "Pardon?"
"I’d never felt as good as I did a moment ago," Harry confesses, drawing closer to the Dark Lord. Red eyes track him suspiciously. Harry's chest aches. "But now, looking at you… it makes me so sad."
Thoughtlessly, Harry reaches out, and Voldemort lets him. It’s how Harry knows this can’t be real. That it’s just a silly, drunken dream. Their fingers intertwine, though Voldemort’s hand remains stiff and cold in his gentle grip.
"Aren’t you lonely?" Harry wonders. "Is that yours I feel pressing in, or my own? Even without you," Harry smiles, crooked and small, brushing an irreverent thumb over his scar, "I’m sure it’d be there. People always isolate the freak."
Voldemort’s hand twitches in Harry’s, and he hums, focus dropping from red eyes to trace the long fingers with his own.
"Everybody’s frightened of you. You isolate yourself from friendship, from love, from time itself... don’t you want, Voldemort? I can feel that you do—you’re never satisfied, are you? Will it ever be enough? The world at your feet, no attachments, nobody to challenge you—is that your dream, or your nightmare?"
"You’re speaking nonsense, boy," Voldemort says, but it comes out odd. Stilted. "You presume much."
"Is it presumption when I feel you?" Harry asks genuinely, brows drawing together, hand lifting to press over his heart. Voldemort is dragged with him, pulled a bit over the desk, and Harry blinks in surprise before realizing he still has a grip on the other’s hand. He lets go slowly, and Voldemort pulls back with a scowl.
"You are drunk," the wizard snaps with disgust. "You know nothing of what Lord Voldemort feels."
Harry finds the words… annoying.
"You feel so loudly, though," he returns sharply, moving forward, sliding onto Voldemort’s desk. Ink spills over—Voldemort hisses in annoyance and the stain is gone with a thought—dreams are a magic of their own—Voldemort’s forehead is cold and smooth. Harry bears the man's mark. He presses his scarred head to the smooth. Long, clawed fingers are wrapped around his wrist. His throat.
"Right here, always pressing in," Harry continues, heedless of his position, precarious as it is. "You feel so much it hurts, Voldemort. You hate so much. You’re never just happy. And I was, am, could be. So just take some, won’t you?"
Red eyes are narrow, intent, fascinated as they dart over Harry’s face, trying to gather his meaning. "How do you propose I do that?"
"How does one normally take pleasure?" Harry wonders. Voldemort grimaces, pulling away quickly, and it takes Harry’s bubbling mind a moment to put what he said to context.
"No," he chokes on a laugh, "I’m not asking you to—to snog. To fuck. Just open yourself up. You’re so good at taking, usually, but all you’re doing is giving. Don’t you want to feel like this? Light? Thrilled?"
"You don’t even know what you sound like, do you?" The question is rhetorical. Voldemort’s hand tightens over his throat, until Harry’s breathing grows thinner. "You wish for me to let your happiness pass my Occlumency, as though you have not just slipped through yourself. As if you have no method to make Lord Voldemort feel your pleasure; as if you want to give Lord Voldemort pleasure at all."
Harry touches the hand on his neck, slowly tightening with Voldemort’s rant, and a spark lights his fingers. Voldemort’s hand spasms before it drops. Harry takes a deep breath, glaring balefully. His light-hearted air has faded.
"Perhaps I would give you pleasure so your misery would be all the worse for it," he bites out. The world is fuzzy, but no longer from alcohol. From being choked. Even in his dreams, his life is threatened by this man.
"A pretty plot," says Voldemort. There is something very condescending in his voice; he is clearly looking down on Harry. Doubting him. It’s nothing new, but it makes the sting of anger grow in him. "Very well. If you can conjure happiness as you peer into the face of your death, Harry Potter, then do. Make me feel it, if you can."
Harry’s nails bite into his palm and release. He takes a breath and lets his eyes flutter closed. He focuses.
Happiness. What does it feel like? Like floating, as he was moments ago, or like getting an anticipated hug—not his first, not all the ones he flinched away from, but a hug from Hermione when they’ve almost just died. An arm around Ron’s waist as the boy drapes one around his shoulder. Laughing, hysterical and joyous, by the fireplace. Finding his wand. Finding out he was escaping the Dursleys. Happiness is a brief thing, drenched in the shadows of his life. Happiness is contentment, even if it is a momentary thing. It is the pleasure of a perfectly prepared cuppa; from—nonono, not going there.
Harry wraps the sensations up, one by one, like he’s re-wrapping hard candy, and throws them at Voldemort. Into Voldemort. All but one—his favourite one, his happiest one. That, he grasps, and it’s actual candy in his hand, a sweet that he looks down to, and then unwraps, and he’s moving forward, intent eyes raising, and Voldemort is already gasping, a bit, at the suddenness of it all—of pleasure.
Harry’s lips curl and he pushes the candy into the slightly agape mouth of the Dark Lord a bit cruelly, shoving it deep. He pulls back quickly, before sharp teeth can gnash on his fingers, and watches on as Voldemort experiences pleasure. As Voldemort softens, and sighs, relaxation in every hard line of him, mouth sucking almost greedily around the treasure that Harry has placed within it. Now he’s drunk on it, Harry thinks, horribly pleased to see Voldemort this way.
It’s not real, but still, he hovers on Voldemort’s desk and observes the pink brushing his cheekbones with fascination. He observes the way red eyes roll back a bit, and the way a long, pale throat swallows convulsively down on a slowly dissolving candy until there is nothing left.
Lashless eyes open, dark and suddenly staring. Red barely peeks out from behind the dilation of his pupil, and Harry’s smile is a smug thing.
“There’s your pleasure,” Harry whispers to him, like a secret. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. It can only get worse from here.”
“Worse?” murmurs Voldemort, staring at Harry intently. “You think there is worse you can do, Harry, then give me that and take it back?”
Belonging, thinks Harry, quite suddenly. He’d given Voldemort his favourite thing, the thing that he had been looking for, for a very long time. Longing, and peace, and laughter, and a burgeoning happiness that had very rarely managed to emanate past its conception. He had given Voldemort, too, his desperate hope for things to get better—and then he’d made them get better—and now Voldemort had lost it all.
Suddenly, impossibly, Harry’s eyes are liquid. I’m cruel, thinks Harry, gaze falling from red. There is nothing so cruel as what he has done, and he had done it so carelessly, so happily, so smugly, because he had felt slighted. Had felt wronged by this man who had ceaselessly wronged him.
Slowly, Harry looks back up at Voldemort, who is watching his tears with an expression of keen interest.
“Has it made you sad to give your enemy your pleasure, Harry Potter?” Voldemort asks, gripping his wrist and drawing him near enough that Harry barely keeps his bottom on the desk rather than Voldemort’s lap.
“It makes me sad to treat you with such cruelty,” Harry corrects, “when I know you will never allow yourself to experience such pleasure again.”
“Would I not?” breathes Voldemort, eyes still dark instead of bright.
“You won’t,” whispers Harry. “It'd require you to trust someone. To have faith in them. And that, I know you’re incapable of, because you are a man but don’t see yourself as one, and gods do not have friends, nor equals.”
“Equals?” Voldemort’s breath brushes Harry’s brow, his stinging scar. “But what if Lord Voldemort were to draw you from the depths, Harry? Raise you from the pale mortality until you, too, are exalted? Then you may give Lord Voldemort what he so deserves; give me pleasure, Harry Potter,” Voldemort enunciates awfully. “Give me it all.”
I wrote this one of the first times I ever drank, and just expanded upon it a bit. I'm honestly really fond of finding these little things I've forgotten.
#drunk Harry#Harry/Voldemort#dream antics#dream mechanics#physical concepts#silly boys#drunken moodswings#this is kinda...#odd
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