#i have two more drawings somewhere in my art folder of him

[thosedamnedghouls]

someone very sweet in one of my reblogs ( @pineyw00dsshesquatch ) asked if id ever posted Kagome's dad (as i imagined him) so here he is!!! Dad Higurashi 💙

[writing-mlm]

Hiii, can we please have more college!damian x male reader? Like a scenario where damian loves to draw reader but reader doesn't know this? Maybe friends to lovers? Idk your pick. The artist and his muse type of thing. Also, i LIVE for soft damian on this blog ong.

Forever my Muse

Summary: Damian has his finals coming up and he wants you to join-- at least that's his excuse to get you into the art venue. An artist needs their muse and for some reason, most of Damian's drawings include you in, naturally, he could fill museums with drawings of you. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader WC: 5.8k

Dust-covered fingers were always something you had associated with Damian. Graphite, charcoal, pastels— anything he used to draw or even paint would inevitably stain his hands. It wasn’t intentional, and neither were the fingerprints he left on your stuff, or the paint you could never remove from your favorite sweater, but that didn’t stop him from apologizing. From buying you cleaning products and a new sweater; never mind it has never been worn in the year you’ve had it, Damian felt terribly sorry whenever he felt he’d stained something of yours. 

But never sorry enough to show you his drawings. 

You’d ask, you’d beg, but he would never give in. He’d show you when he was done, sure. You’d see the finished still-life drawings of whatever object had been in the line of sight, the paintings he’d done of his pets whenever he missed them, and the random sketches he did to loosen his wrist. But, damn, sometimes you wanted to see an unfinished drawing that wasn’t a warm-up. 

Even now, as the two of you are on the campus bus heading towards the music hall, he’s drawing. Sitting across from you on the bus, Damian easily adjusts himself to the movements of the bus as it jerks to a stop. He’s nice like that, you’ve never caught him off guard, he’s never fallen or stumbled in the time you’ve known him. 

Studying him, you wonder if he’s naturally so agile. You’ve seen him in your dorm's gym, during all-nighters you can sometimes see him running around campus, and once you had caught him doing one of those athletic challenges for some guy's video. He won. Of course. 

The bus comes to a complete stop and you look away, double-checking that it wasn’t your stop. It wasn’t. You knew that. But still. The need to check was far too great and you slipped back into a conversation with Damian. Only this time, you’re looking down at your phone to double-check the event and his eyes switch from staring at his sketch to staring at you. 

His eyes flicker between you and his drawing, erasing and adding lines where needed. He catches your eyes traveling up and he looks back down, working from memory as you start up a new conversation. 

Eventually, the bus reaches your stop and he carefully closes his book; he always worries he’d smudge his art, while he follows you out of the bus. 

It’s the end of the semester, ergo, it’s finals week. And for one of your music finals, everyone was to prepare a song and perform it. Truthfully, Damian doesn’t understand why you’d picked him to accompany you. He knows he’s not the best comfort, his demeanor often being the reason people don’t stick around too long. 

But, you reassured him. Telling him that his presence was more than enough for you. Knowing that he was somewhere in the crowd calms you down more than you ever cared to admit. 

The walk to the music hall isn’t short, but you can see the large building in the distance. The size is daunting on you as you see the crowd forming at the entrance. People aren’t allowed inside yet, but performers and their guests can head inside before anyone else. 

“I’m nervous,” You admit, wiping your hands on your shirt. “What if I fail?” You mutter, your eyes desperately searching to find solace in his green eyes. 

“You’ll do as you’ve always done,” He nods, looking ahead as you approach the building. “Exceptionally.” His sketchbook bumps against your folder of sheet music and you sigh through your nose, trying to calm down. 

“I’m so gonna choke,” Seeing your reflection in the glass, you feel as if you’d forgotten everything you learned. Every lesson, every mistake you fixed and learned from, the late-night practice performances with your friends. The song you’d composed nearly slips from your mind as you see yourself, walking in that suit and tie you’d worn several years ago. All of it left your mind and you felt like a beginner again. What even was a solfège?

“I'm trained in CPR.” He opens the door for you and gently encourages you inside, his fingers grazing your back. “You weren’t nearly as nervous for your accounting finals.” He notes, falling back into step with you. 

That’s another thing. Maybe that’s why you were so stressed. Double majoring was hellish. Twice the finals, quadruple the headaches. 

“Those were tests,” You scowl, showing the security your campus ID. “I’m going to be performing a live concert in front of nearly a thousand people. I cannot fuck this up, Damian. This is going to be posted for everyone to watch, too,” You ramble on. 

“Which you’ve done before, no?” He presses the elevator button and your heart hammers. You swear you’re going to pass out. He notices, of course, he does, and digs in his bag to find the fidget cube he keeps in there. 

“I have— thank you,” Taking the cube, he nods. “It’s just… I don’t know. Tests suck.” Rolling your thumb along the metal ball on one side of the cube, you stare at the numbers as they slowly tick down to the first floor. 

“That’s true,” He steps inside the elevator and you follow suit. “But you’ve made it thus far, you can go further.” He squeezes your shoulder as the doors close. There’s a silence in the elevator as it goes up to the second floor where you see your teacher waiting at the door to the waiting room, talking to a pair of students. 

“I can,” You affirm, dipping your head down as you smile. 

“You will.” 

—

You’re fifth in line to perform, watching a singer, dancer, another other pianist, and an opera singer go on before you go on did absolutely jack shit to help you. As you’re announced, you step onto the stage and try your best not to accept that there were thousands of eyes on you. Instead, you smile and wave as you walk across that large stage. Desperately looking for Damian in the sea of people. 

He’s in the front, right in front of where you could see when you glance up from the piano, you find out as you’re standing next to the piano seat. 

Damian’s eyes don’t leave yours, making eye contact with you as you fiddle with the buttons of your coat. He motions for you to stop and then does a breathe in breathe out motion with the same hand. Nodding, you blink away from him and hold your hands behind your back. Focusing on your breathing, you listen to the teacher as you’re done being introduced. 

The applause settles as you bow in, take a seat, and flip the page where your music sheet is. Slowly, you start. As a general music major, you weren’t restricted to just playing the piano. As emphasized by the microphone taped to your cheek. 

You aren’t the strongest singer by any means, you’re good for singing in the shower or on drives but you doubt you’d actually make a career off of your voice. What you hope will carry you is the piano, as you press each key your eyes flicker to Damian. He’s attentive, a smile on his face as you perform. 

Testing the waters, you glance at the people around him and they seem… pleased. Happy. Moved, even. You grin and return to staring at the sheet music. All of the notes flood back to you as you reach the last bit of the song, your eyes closing as your voice reaches a peak, holding a note. Then it’s just the piano, your voice echoing in everyone’s mind as the notes get slower and slower until you end it. 

Applause fills the hall and you stand up, taking a bow. Standing there, even if only for a moment, you can’t imagine why you’d been so nervous.

Collecting your sheet music, you exit the stage and hand the mic to the stage tech before leaving. 

When you’re nearing the exit, you spot Damian holding a bouquet of flowers. 

“When did you have the time to get these?” You laugh as he hands them to you. His eyes merely twinkle, refusing to give up one of his many secrets. “Thank you, they’re dope.” 

“You did it,” Damian reminds you as the two of you exit the building. 

“I did! Ugh!” Grabbing his shoulder with your free hand, you give him a little shake. “Thank you so much, you’re honestly the best. Was it good?” Falling into step with him, Damian doesn’t bother to fix his shirt. It’s hardly even moved, but you know he was detail-oriented in stuff like that. Hell, he hates it when he messes with his clothes. 

“It was mesmerizing.” He promises. “I do believe the woman behind me was crying.” Grinning, you stand at the bus stop, suddenly buzzing with excitement. Wanting to do it again, you start to imagine creating your own side business. Wedding musician, you can see it now. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” He avoids looking at you as he’s speaking. A rare occurrence on his part. But he does his best to look at you after building the courage. “I have an art showing next week. I understand the notice is short and you’re—“

“Send me the details.” You grin. His shoulders drop and he nods, clearly more relaxed. “I hope the attire is fancy. I got this fancy turtleneck I’ve been wanting to wear and slacks from my high school graduation just waiting to be worn!” 

—

With all of your finals out of the way, you finally had time to start removing the items from your dorm. One by one you removed posters and trinkets scattered across your end of the room. Pack your clothes into boxes, and save for enough outfits to get you through your two weeks left on campus. 

Damian was held up from finishing his art showing, unable to see you in person but he was more than happy with a Facetime call. With both your laptops placed in a space away from disturbing you, the two of you worked on your tasks. 

“I do need to be at the showing two hours early,” He tells you as you’re dragging the anti-suicide chairs to the closet, trying to see the top shelf. “But I’ll have arrangements to bring you to the venue.” 

“And my outfit is okay?” You ask, the chair wobbling as you stand on it. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But hey, you’re not the one who installed a closet tall enough that only Shaq could see the top. “Because I can always swap out the turtle neck for a green button down— the silk one that Maddison made,” Always gave a fashion designer friend. She had used you as a model for of her projects a couple of months ago and with your measurements being unique to you, let you have it after she’d gotten her grade. 

“The button-down would be better suited,” He nods, leaning close to his painting before adding a tiny stroke. “The turtleneck is a little… on the nose.” Leaning back, he checks his reference picture before frowning. It goes away quickly as he picks up a bit of white and dabs it onto a dry brush. 

“I was afraid it was,” You laugh, grabbing a first aid kit from the shelf. Listening to him lightly brush the paint over the canvas, you toss the kit onto the bed and grab what little items are scattered up there. “Holy shit! Do you remember when that frat dude lost his frat ring?” 

“Unfortunately,” Damian glances at his screen, watching as you haphazardly get down from the chair. Nearly tripping, he wonders how you've made it this far in life without breaking a bone. 

“I think I did take it! Look!” Showing the screen, Damian looks almost impressed as you hold up a fraternity ring. It’s a shiny gold, likely fake but engraved with the initials of the Frat house. The two of you remember the guy had been going around to every single campus building with a missing ring poster. 

“What a thief,” He chides, setting his brush down and taking a physical step back from the painting. Harsh glares scan over brush strokes, ripping apart his painting bit by bit before he nods to himself. His glare morphs into a soft sort of gaze and he signs the back of it. 

“Is that your final painting for the semester?” You ask, the ring forgotten about as it’s tossed in a box of trinkets and you’ve moved on to ordering food. Probably Panda Express. Or maybe Chipotle…. really it’s whatever is closer and cheaper. 

“Hopefully,” He sighs through his nose, his paint box clicking shut. “I’ve been drawing and painting these past couple of days. My canvases take up an entire section of the art studio. I’m sure my professor cannot wait for them to dry and get glossed. Which I should probably start doing.” 

“How does that taste?” Setting your phone down, Damian’s face goes sour as he looks at you. “Personally, I think the gloss would taste tarty.” You add. “Or maybe like the frosting for Toaster Strudel.” Picking your phone back up, you continue your order. 

“Neither is correct.” He blinks. “It’s a toxin and filled with chemicals, it most likely tastes as good as acetone does, Hab—“ He pauses, and you look at him wondering what the issue is. “Habits of tasting chemicals shouldn’t be one you pick up.” He finishes his sentence with a bit of force. 

“I just love chemicals. Violin resin is my favorite.” Making a chomping noise Damian huffs. As you’re finishing up your order, you look at him. He’s halfway across campus and judging by the rack of canvases he wheeled over, he won’t be back until well into the night. Eh, it doesn’t hurt to ask. “I’m ordering some food, do you want something?” 

“No, thank you, though.” He shakes his head. “I have food from the court in case I get hungry.” He quickly adds. Humming, you place the order and scan over your room. The only things that need to get packed are things you’re still using. Now it’s just a matter of organizing the boxes and bins so you can still move around your room. 

“After the glossing, what’re you doing?”

“I have to write short summaries for each painting. No less than one hundred words,” He explains as he’s putting on a pair of latex gloves. 

“So, a breeze?” He laughs and nods. 

“I’m afraid I’ll go over the word limit,” He admits, sparing you a glance as you’re lugging a box to a corner of your room. “My paintings harbor a lot of my emotions and they’re far from short.”

“Real as fuck.”

— 

On the day of his art exhibition, you spend extra time in the bathroom. Making sure your hair is neat, and presentable, fixing your outfit, making sure you don’t stink. Anything and everything you could check over, you did. 

This nervous feeling was different from your pre-show nerves. Especially since you don’t even know why you’re nervous. Probably because you’d never actually gotten to see his paintings, at least the ones he was showing. He’d been ultra allusive about those, citing the exhibition would be the best place to view them. But even he was nervous and that’s a lot considering he’s Damian fucking Wayne. 

He texted you two minutes ago saying that the car was going to arrive within the next ten minutes and you rushed out to the front of the dorms. No need to lock the door behind you, since your roommate was busy sleeping and would stay in there until you came back. Plucking at your shirt, you watch a sleek black car pull up in front of you, and Damian texts you that the car is there. 

The ride is long, far too long for your liking anyway. But considering it’s in the middle of the city, it’s not unwarranted. 

The art… museum? What should you call it? The space where the exhibition was being held was a well-known art gallery— that’s the word! The gallery was well respected, talked about within art circles, and incredibly high-brow. Thank fuck you didn’t go with that turtleneck. 

There’s a woman in front of the gallery, greeting everyone who enters. She sees you and there’s a flash of recognition across her face. 

“It’s great to finally meet Damian’s muse,” She smiles as she shakes your hand. 

“His what?” You ask but Damian pulls you inside. 

“How was the ride?” He asks, his eyes darting between his professor and you. 

“Good but what did she mean?” You ask, looking around to see the other people around. Like your performance, it was open to the public and with Bruce Wayne’s son being in attendance, many people had showed up. Including his family. “Bruce Wayne is here?” Your head whips to Damian as you spot him in the crowd. 

“He is my father…” He trails. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Fuck no!” You gasp. “The knowledge of his wealth is burying me as we speak— but this is about you,” Turning to him, you smile. “Where’s your paintings? Those don’t look like your style,” Eyes flicker across the paintings and you can’t see Damian’s strokes, his colors or his lighting in any of them. A sort of pride swells within him, knowing that you’ve looked— studied his art enough to know that the ones around you weren’t his. 

“It has its own section,” He tells you, guiding you through groups of people and halls. “It’s going to be revealed in around half an hour. My professor insisted,” He stops at a section of the gallery covered by a curtain and two security guards. You never knew it was that serious, but damn. 

“Mr Fancy. Why don’t you catch up with your family? I’ll look around?” In truth, you were going to the nearest bathroom and making sure you didn't look stupid. 

“I’m more than certain they’d be more pleased if you accompanied me.” He shakes his head as you raise your eyebrows. “If that’s something you’d be comfortable with, of course.” 

“Sure,” Once more, he guides you past people until he spots his father and brother talking in a corner. 

“Father, Richard.” He calls as the two of you approach. “This is (Y/n).” Richard’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile, the smile only furthered curbed by his brother's glare. 

“Hello,” Waving at the two men, they reach to shake your hand instead. Bruce has a firm grip, probably tighter than it really needed to be but Richard is more than welcoming. He’s more than excited to meet you, although you can’t imagine why. 

“My other siblings are still in Gotham,” Damian explains, physically taking Dick’s hand from yours with a pointed look. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t bring Cassandra, father.”

“She’s here,” He shakes his head, glancing around for the mop of black hair. “In the bathroom, probably.” 

“Is that her?” You ask, looking at the woman in the corner. She’s standing there, downing a glass of champagne before returning to a conversation with a man. She looks like how Damian had described her, although he downplayed how intimidating she seemed. 

“Oh boy,” Dick huffs. “Let me go help her,” Excusing himself, you’re left with Damian and his father. The two of them talking with their eyes. 

“So, Damian’s told me you’re a double major,” Bruce breaks the silence and their weird eye conversation. He talks about you? Glancing at Damian, he’s making a point to look anywhere but you. That’s sorta cute— totally not in a romantic way, totally. 

“I am,” You nod, wishing a man with drinks would walk past you. “Accounting and a performing arts major.” He hums and there’s another beat of awkward silence. 

“From what he tells me, you’re excelling at both. That’s incredibly hard. Do you have any job prospects lined up for when you graduate?” He asks and you shake your head. 

“Not yet,” You admit, picking at your hands. “Since I'm not sure where I’d like to settle after I graduate it’s difficult finding places.” Bruce nods, quickly making sure Dick and Cassandra are okay. 

“Well, if your grades continue to stay or improve, Wayne Enterprises is always looking for accountants, especially one so esteemed.” He smiles at you, that sort of small smile that makes you feel more relaxed in his presence. A fatherly smile. 

“Yeah, praise from Damian is a lot.” Dick grins, leaning his weight on his younger brother. Cassandra agrees, leaning against the wall Bruce was standing in front of. “And he talks about you a ton!” 

“That’s enough.” Damian huffs, pushing himself away from Dick who frowns. “Let’s look at some of the artwork,” 

“You talk to your family about me?” You grin as he’s hauling you away from his family. He looks at you, clearly licking the inside of his mouth before he blinks and gives one strong nod. 

“Of course I do, it would be a shame to hide someone so talented.” He explains and then looks forward, his eyes swimming across the faces around him. “I do believe in your talents and my father is someone who can help them flourish; it would seem awfully cruel if I didn’t at least try.” You go to speak; to thank him but his attention is pulled away by the director of the show. 

“It’s time!” She gleams, ushering the two of you after her. 

There are already people gathered in front of his top secret exhibit, cameras and people wearing PRESS lanyards like the front and sides. Much like a moth drawn to a flame, they find Damian walking and try to hound him, only to be stopped by his family. They’re far more intimidating now but Damian pulls your attention from them and towards him. 

The two of you are in front of the whole crowd, the two guards holding one piece of the curtain and waiting for a cue to open them. 

“We welcome everyone to Damian Wayne’s very first art show,” The director says, her hand ghosting over his shoulder. He takes that as a sign to step forward, barely leaving your side as he explains his art. 

“Through My Eyes is a collection of various pieces I’ve created over the course of two years,” He explains. “The music that accompanies the art are pieces composed by my muse.” His eyes find yours as the curtains are pulled aside and for the first time, you notice the way he looks at you. The way his eyes never seem to want to leave yours, how he takes you in the same way he takes in the art around him. 

Then you hear it. More specifically you hear yourself. 

You hear the piece you’d played during your final, hearing your voice fill the spaces where people aren’t talking. Each key, and each note floods your ears as you turn to see his art. 

It’s you.

All of it. Each painting, each frame has something of you in it. 

“Holy shit.” You breathe, moving to the closest one. It’s a painting of you, wearing clothes you’d only seen in shows like Merlin, holding onto a statue of an angel. It’s almost impossible to not know where the inspiration had come from. After convincing Damian to go exploring with you and some friends, you’d come across a newly abandoned church with a large angel statue. On a dare, you pretended to dance with it. 

Sure, you’d seen the picture before but it was nothing compared to the painting. It looked amazing, you had never looked better. Your features were captured in the best way possible, you’d been posed in a way that made it seem as if you were guiding the angel in a dance. 

The description catches your eye next. 

One Last Dance wasn’t the first drawing of Muse, but it was the first drawing of him that I truly loved. He’d resparked a passion for painting for me. The painting had been on my mind for two weeks before I finally started to work on it, having it become my only focus for the two days that I worked on it became the norm for the next two years of my life. 

Muse doesn’t personally care for the Renaissance era, but it seemed fitting for such a painting. The feeling of dressing Muse in modern clothes didn’t ruin the drawing but it didn’t make sense, in my head their dance is accompanied by the sounds of the wings and their feet gliding across the floor. Just outside is probably a mob, unbelievable of a true angel. Muse would probably say that he was dancing to the sounds of Sleep Token and outside was a bunch of ‘angel fuckers’, but who knows. 

D.W

The next painting was smaller than the first, but it’s a close-up of your face. Your eyes are wide and you’re desperately pulling at your eyelids as a light twinkles inside of it. 

Blinding Gaze came about when Muse had gone to the eye doctor, fearing he was going blind. Turns out he was just extremely stressed to the point of temporary blindness. When we spoke about it, he joked that he was developing powers from that time he drank a sports drink mixed with a crushed-up Tylenol and he could shoot lasers from his eyes. While Blinding Gaze doesn’t follow his original plan of lasers, I imagine developing eye lights could be frightening. 

Blinding Gaze isn’t body horror, although I had intended it to be but I couldn’t bring myself to put Muse into that position. Even if it was completely fake. I did eventually remake the painting how I truly envisioned it, but I still prefer my Muse to the remake. 

Drifting to the next painting, you see yourself, dressed in your favorite smudged hoodie, dancing amongst the crowd. The people are drowned out in the colors of the background, nearly blending in meanwhile you’re ever so present. The light shone down on you in a way that made you seem like the main character in some movie, all eyes meant to be on you. 

A Night To Remember was undoubtedly one of the best moments of college thus far. Muse had been invited to a friend's party and insisted I come instead of remaining in the art room, drowning myself in oils and pastels. Although I’ve put his words in a more friendly manner. I hadn’t wanted to go, the noises and being pressed against unfamiliar faces was hardly something I ever enjoyed. But for Muse, I’d do anything he’d asked of me. 

Glued to him for the night, I found myself unreasonably drawn to him. I do not remember the song, in truth, I don’t remember much from that night aside from him. The way he danced, how he looked at me. How he looked in the room. I resented not bringing my sketchbook, but I would’ve been more out of place than I originally had been. 

Smoothening your shirt, you take a nervous glance around you. You’re unsure about how you feel, it’s a lot. You’ve never truly thought about Damian in such a light before, at least not to your knowledge. Sure, you’ve written compositions about him and sure, if you read between the lines in some songs they’re definitely about him. You and Him. 

Perhaps, without realizing it, you had made him your muse just as he had made you his. 

“I want you to see this one,” Damian says as he walks up behind you, finally free of people asking him questions. The music loops as he does and you count that there’s five songs on the set playlist. Each and every song was one you had created. Your song from the previous week plays again as you stare at him, smiling. 

“I’m your muse?” You softly ask, unable to remove yourself from the spot until you have gotten your words out. Damian dips his head down for a moment and wipes his nose. “You’re nervous,” The small tease makes his eyes roll and he clears his throat, the red settling from his tanned ears. 

“I want you to see this one,” He repeats and grabs your hand, gently guiding you past the people surrounding the room. They look at the two of you, watching as you walk up to a large painting in the center of the room. Clearly a last-minute addition but it seemed to be the focus. 

“Woah,” Is all you can say when you see the painting of you during your final. It’s painted in the same style as your favorite art era. The romantic era where colors were soft, even if they were dark. The painting itself had you in the center, a sea of people at the bottom and there are several ghostly figures of yourself, dancing across the stage leaving streaks of yourself at the top. The floor of the stage was covered in candles. 

“How long did this take you?” You ask, eyes darting between details and finding new ones each time you look. 

“Two days,” He shrugs. Slowly, you look at him and he looks back at you, confused. “I couldn’t sleep until I finished the painting. The way you looked during your final.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “It’s truly beautiful— you’re truly beautiful,” He adds, looking at you. 

“When you paint me like that I definitely am,” You laugh, looking back at the painting. 

“I only painted you through my lens. Perhaps your eyes aren’t as good as you think they are because the paintings truly do not live up to their references. You’re captivating and the way you’ve consumed my thoughts is honestly intoxicating.” His eyes twinkle as you look at each other. You don’t know what to say, honestly. You can stroke your ego a little, you could crack a joke, or you could bear yourself completely to him. But definitely not in a room filled with people. 

“Ah,” Dick breaks the silence. “You know he used to be a junior poet?” Grumbling, Damian looks over at Richard as he’s staring at the painting, sipping sparkling champagne from a flute glass while holding a cracker with cheese and jelly. Gross. Probably, you’ve never had it before. 

“I do believe I asked for a moment alone,” Damian gives a half-snarky grin and Dick shrugs. 

“A whole lotta people here, doubt you’d be alone.” With a sweeping motion, he gestures to the crowd around you. It’s not elbow-to-elbow crowded but you can hear at least seven conversations happening around you. 

“I suppose you’re correct,” He nods, following his brother's line of thinking. “Fresh air?” He asks you and you nod. 

There’s a park in front of the exhibit and it’s mostly empty, save for two kids and their parents but they’re clearly about to leave. Damian heads towards the benches but you pull him to the swings. There are three but one of them is tossed over the bar and you don’t feel like fixing it. 

Sitting with your back to the exhibit, you look over the trees and the playground. The sandpit with someone’s lost doll sitting down, a bucket behind it. 

“What did you think?” He spoke up after a minute had passed. The entire time he watched as you gently rocked back and forth on the swings, tempting yourself to actually swing. 

“You’re amazingly talented,” You hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “Although, I already knew that. You’re like Michelangelo with everything you pick up.” Glancing at him, you smile when you see his hands. “You still haven’t cleaned the charcoal from your nails.” 

“No,” He blinks, his eyes staying closed for a beat longer than a blink. “Not of my skill level, (Y/n). Of the drawings. That you’re Muse.” He looks down at his fingertips and starts to pick at the bits of charcoal. “That you’re my muse.”

Softly you sigh before looking back to the trees. 

“What is there to think about? You’re my muse, I'm yours.” 

“You’ve written songs about me?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, refusing to look at him. “Which? If you don’t mind me asking,”

“Birds of a feather, I wanna be yours, and Golden hour. There’s more but they’re too embarrassing to admit,” Hearing him take a deep breath, you pick at your fingernails and slowly stop swinging.

“What now?” You ask, finally looking at him. He shrugs and starts to slowly swing. He thinks for a moment before he checks his phone. 

“When are you free? I can make reservations to—“

“Applebees or Red Lobster,” You cut him off and he looks at you, confused. “Applebees is once every so often, birthdays or celebrations. But Red Lobster? That’s graduation or date.” 

“You could’ve gone for a five-star restaurant, you know that, right?” He laughs and you shrug. 

“I heard they’re pretty shit. And I want to fuck up a seafood boil. Oh wait,” Blinking, you try to remember the Red Lobster menu. “Never mind, I don’t think they have vegetarian options. We could do Olive Garden or whatever vegetarian places you like. I’m not picky,” 

“And I am?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “Friday, at five. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Olive Garden. And then to the movies to watch that new horror movie you’ve been wanting to watch.”

“That sounds perfect,” You nod and nudge your swing into his. 

“Can I admit something?” He slowly asks. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward but…” Watching as he licks his lip, you stop swinging. “May I kiss you?” 

“Yes.” You nod. Trying not to seem too eager, the both of you stand up and you watch as he raises his hands to cup your face. His fingers are warm, gliding across your skin as you hook one arm around his waist while the other holds his shoulder. “Do you want to lead?” You whisper as he looks at you, unmoving. His eyes dart down to your lips and he nods before closing the distance. 

His hands drag a little down your face, his pinky curving under your jaw before moving up into your hair. Slowly the kiss breaks and he dips back down for one quick kiss. 

“He’s been waiting months to do that,” Dick announces and Damian groans. You snicker and look behind Damian. Dick isn’t even looking, looking off into the distance before he’s sure that you’re done kissing before looking at the two of you. 

“Must he ruin everything?” He whispers to you before facing his brother. “I understand you have no concept of privacy, but this warrants that.” Dick frowns at the rudeness before he shrugs and points his thumb towards the venue. 

“They’re asking for you, thought I should come and get you before they spot you.” He explains through a sigh. “Would hate for our little demon’s kiss to end up on the front page. But, yeah,” He sighs and looks over at you. He stares at your face for a moment before he chuckles. 

“Take him to the bathroom, you got dust on his face.”

“It’s charcoal.”

[braveclementine]

Chapter 24

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕴 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖉 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖚𝖘 in my arms, standing somewhere near Hagrid as we watched (with many younger students) as a powder-blue carriage the size of a house pulled by a dozen winged palominos soared through the last afternoon sky, settling down near Hagrid's cabin.

I watched as the large door opened and Madam Maxine walked from the house, throwing herself into Hagrid's waiting arms. There was a polite introduction, though of course, she recognized me from sight.

Trang was quite stunned at the sight of her, the carriage, and the horses. "Is that Hagrid's. . . well anything?"

I chuckled quietly, shifting my wait so that I could hold Remus more favorably. "Dating? Something like that."

"Wow." Trang said and we watched the two of them walk off into the woods.

"Hospital wing?" I asked.

"Hospital wing." Trang said.

We walked back up the slope to go and see Bill. Fleur was chattering happily about Bill's newest craving: rare steaks.

"Eet ees lucky 'e is marrying me, because ze British overcook thier meat, I 'ave always said this." Fleur said, fluffing Bill's pillow.

"Hey Eliza, Trang." Bill greeted us. I handed over Remus because I knew that Bill liked holding him.

"Rare steaks are good." Trang said, taking a chair near Hermione.

I scoffed, "How would you know?"

Trang grinned mysteriously and I rolled my eyes.

"I have something for you Harry." I said, reaching into my shoulder bag and pulling out a set of seven drawings and handed them over.

"This is Tom Riddles diary. . ." Harry said slowly and then stopped talking as he shifted through the drawings and then looked up, "Thanks Liz."

I simply nodded. Bill and Fleur were deep in another conversation and I sat closer to the rest of them.

"You wouldn't happen to know who R.A.B. is do you?" Hermione whispered.

I nodded, "Regulus Black."

"Sirius brother?" Harry whispered.

I nodded but said nothing as Bill and Fleur had finished their conversation and I said, "You were going to find out after their wedding." I said this in barely a whisper, jerking my head to mean Bill and Fleur. "You'll know what I mean when they day comes."

The next day came as a mournful one. Everyone woke up at around the same time which was early, dressing in mourning dress robes, and made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast that most of us would not eat.

I'd packed last night after leaving Bill in the hospital wing. Nearly all my things were in Severus' room so it was simple to pack and grab just a few things from the Hufflepuff common room. Trang picked up my drawings of swords and keys and bees and all the other things and places and people from the art studio, putting them into a folder but left all my other drawings there on the walls and tables and easels. If I came back, I wanted something to come back to.

I stood in front of the Great Hall, holding Remus in my arms, looking at the drawing across the room behind the teacher's chairs, confused.

I had never colored the drawing, but now, Dumbledore's character was in color, flawless color too. So was Quirrell's, which I did not understand. Professor Binns was also somewhat colored although he looked more shimmery than anything. Perhaps because the drawing would've been translucent as he was a ghost, I wasn't sure.

"I did a spell." Hermione's voice said at my shoulder. She came to stand next to me. Students passed us into the Great Hall. "When a teacher dies, their character on the drawing is filled in with color, giving them life in death."

"Thank you." I whispered. "It's wonderful."

"I wished only Dumbledore's was colored but the spell stuck, so unfortunately Quirrell will be standing out today as well." Hermione said.

"And so many more will be colored in in the next year." I whispered sadly. Professor Moody, Professor Burbage. . . Professor Snape. . . Professor Lupin. I smiled grimly and then headed to the Hufflepuff table to stare at food on the table.

Rufus Scrimgeour was sitting where Severus should have been sitting. I noticed that Hagrid was not at the table either. I assumed he couldn't have faced breakfast, not today.

Some of the students were talking amongst each other, making the Great Hall seem as though more people were talking than there really were.

Ernie stared down at the bacon and Hannah was picking at a muffin.

"Eat something." Susan said, pushing food in front of me.

"None of you are eating." I protested.

"I feel nauseous to say the least." Justin said. He did look a little green.

Ernie scowled.

"Something wrong Ernie?" I asked gently, biting off a piece of bacon. I knew Susan was making me eat because of Remus and that was alright.

"Smith." Ernie scowled, apparently to disgusted with Zacharias to say his first name.

"Ah!" Rose piped up from Justin's other side. I hadn't seen her.

I shook my head, "Zacharias. . . has. . . well there's really nothing that can be said to defend his actions. He didn't want to fight and his father took him away. He'll do the same thing the next time a fight comes."

Ernie scowled deeper. "He's a coward."

"I think he uses the word self-preservation." I said lightly. I wasn't really sure why I was defending him but I was. Perhaps I just didn't want someone to not be defended for their actions, no matter how wrong. "How was the battle? I missed some of it."

"It was boring on our end." Justin said, eager apparently to tell his story. "We waited in the entrance hall, you know? Around midnight we heard loud noises and shouts and we got ready but the Death Eaters didn't appear for almost thirty or so minutes after the first shouts. The battle seemed really one sided, they were more trying to get away than fight us."

I ate more food in silence while the others stared morosely at their plates. I wished for more details like what had happened to Katie and Dean and the Patil twins and Hannah and Terry and Anthony, but I asked no more. What I didn't know didn't hurt me.

"When did you color in the drawings?" Hannah asked suddenly.

"I didn't." I said, giving the credit where it was due. "It's a spell of Hermione's. When a Professor in the drawing passes away, life is brought to the drawing."

Ernie chuckled, "Smart girl."

"Only wish I'd thought of it." I said, smiling.

Professor McGonagall rose to her feet and the talk in the Great Hall died away at once. "It is nearly time, please follow your Heads of Houses out into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

Professor Sprout rose, wearing clean robes of yellow. There wasn't a speck of dirt, dust, or patches on any of her clothes. I'd never seen her look so clean and it was like looking at a walking, talking character from the opposite Professor portraits I'd drawn what seemed like years ago.

As we passed through the entrance hall, I saw Madam Pince standing besides Mr. Filch. I remembered a conversation that had to of been at the start of the year about a possible love between the two of them. Hermione and Harry had been part of that conversation.

We stepped out through the front door and light hit our faces. Remus held a tiny hand up, trying to grab the sunbeams. I had shaded his head with a small hat and I angled him in my arms so that he couldn't stare directly into the sun.

There were hundreds of chairs, set out in a row by the lake and forest. There was an aisle down the center, like a wedding rather. There was a marble table standing at the front which I knew was probably the coffin because all of the chairs were facing it.

The weather was to beautiful, to wrong.

There were many people already in the front half of the chairs.

Kingsley approached, much to my pleasure, to give me a hug and say hello to Remus, taking him from my hands and holding him above his head.

"Careful." I chastised.

"I won't drop him." Kingsley said, giving me a large smile. "His name?"

"Remus Sirius." I said. I didn't know what Kingsley did or did not know but he clarified for me, giving a low chuckle.

"Snape let that name slide?"

I grinned reluctantly but said nothing as Uncle Moody stomped over to say hello.

I recognized many other people. Tonks hair was back to pink, sitting with dad and holding hands. Fred and George were there too, who also greeted me and took interest in Remus. I noticed there were many shopkeepers from both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother sat there, anonymous, simply known as the bartender of Hog's Head.

Outside the windows, nearly invisible in the sunlight were the Hogwarts ghosts. I could pick out Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, Moaning Myrtle, and the Bloody Baron amongst many, many other ghosts. All of them were somber.

Even Peeves had shown up, slightly more visible than the ghosts. For once (and I'm sure it would never happen again) he looked somber. There was no smile on his face and there was nothing in his hands that suggested he would make a prank. He was simply sitting on a windowsill outside the castle, looking down on all of us.

I made my way to stand next to Firenze who was standing by the water's edge.

"Elizabeth Kane." Firenze said softly in a slightly hoarse voice.

"Firenze." I said.

"That is your child?"

"Remus Sirius Snape." I whispered.

"He's handsome." Firenze said. He seemed sad and another emotion I didn't recognize on his face. He seemed. . . almost. . . jealous? But perhaps I was reading his face wrong.

"Thank you."

We watched as Cornelius Fudge walked by. He looked miserable and I knew that he, for one, regretted that Dumbledore was dead. Some of the other Ministry wizards and witches had only feigned looks of sadness.

Rita Skeeter was here too, though I wasn't nearly as upset to see her than to see that Dolores Umbridge was here.

Yes, I had drawn her into the photo but that didn't mean I liked her. I hadn't liked Quirrell or Lockhart either, but there were certain respects you had to pay. But the fact that she was here at Dumbledore's funeral when she'd done nothing by try and get rid of him pissed me off. It made my blood boil.

She nearly sat down near dad and then when she saw him, hurried away. Even funnier was when she caught sight of Firenze and me and looked at Remus and nearly fainted. I snorted with laughter.

"I think," Firenze said slowly, "She believes the child to be ours."

"Yes." I said, slightly amused. "It was quite a lovely reaction."

Firenze chuckled and grew solemn again.

"I'm sorry." I said suddenly.

"For?"

"Dumbledore was the one who pulled you from the forest, from your home. I know you were doing him a favor, but in a way, he's the reason you were exiled from the forest. In a way, you might be mad Dumbledore died only a year later." I said slowly. "I don't mean to offend you though, if I am wrong."

"You have never offended me." Firenze said in a quiet voice. "You understand far more than the average wizard but then again, there really never was anything average about you."

I smiled a little bit and then he continued, "I suppose I am a little bitter, but I do not regret the decisions I have made, nor do I blame Dumbledore for me making the decision. It was my choice of course. I would have served Dumbledore to my death. I still would."

We fell silent as everyone became seated. I wondered briefly if it was even possible for a human and a Centaur to have a child and what the result would be. I fancied myself with Firenze for a moment, imaging what our child would look like. It kept my mind off other things.

I was one of the only people left standing, and though Trang and a few other people had obviously saved seats for me, I preferred standing here next to Firenze.

A strange music started to float through the air. At first, I thought it might be Fawkes again, but it came from somewhere else. I turned and slightly nudged Firenze and pointed to the water. The merpeople were singing below the surface.

Remus looked at them, probably not really able to see them for what they were. I was suddenly worried he'd start crying. Could silencing charms be used on babies or was that bad? And did contemplating that make me a bad mother?

But Remus did not cry and simply continued to stare on in curiosity, or maybe just in nothing as the Merpeople sung about loss and despair.

They continued to sing as Hagrid walked up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying silently, his face gleaming with tears. There was a large object wrapped in purple velvet that was embroidered with golden stars. It reminded me of one of the cloaks I'd drawn at an inn from the secret drawings with the sun and the moon.

I started to cry, tears falling down my face. Looking at many of the girls and women here, they were all doing the same. I reached out and took Firenze's hand for comfort, squeezing it. He squeezed back gently.

Hagrid placed the body carefully on the table and then walked back down the aisle, blowing his nose loudly. The noise drew scandalized and annoyed looks, almost all of them from the Ministry officials. I smiled a little. Dumbledore would've liked that. He knew how soft Hagrid was.

Grawp was in the very back, though some yards away from where Firenze and I stood at the waters edge. Hagrid sat down and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the head, the chair legs of Hagrid's chair sank into the ground.

I laughed quietly under my breath.

The merpeople stopped singing.

There was a small tufty-haired man in plain black robes that had gotten to his feet and moved to stand in front of Dumbledore's body. He couldn't have been much taller than Professor Flitwick. His voice must've been high-pitched and squeaky like Professor Flitwick's too because from where we stood, we could not hear much of the speech.

Firenze probably heard more with his hearing.

There was a soft splashing noise and I looked over to see that the merpeople's heads had broken above water to listen. I smiled briefly at them before turning back to the small man up front as though I could hear his words.

Dumbledore had known Mermish. I wondered where he had learned it, how fluent he had been in it, and if he had ever taught it. I wondered if I could ever learn it.

"The centaurs are coming." I whispered up to Firenze, letting go of his hand carefully. If they saw us, I did not want them to see him holding my hand- the hand of a human. I smiled up at him gently.

"Yes." He said softly, giving me an understanding look, "They are in the trees."

Indeed, there seemed to be movement in the trees, though none of the Centaurs showed themselves.

I felt as though someone was watching me and I looked across from where I was standing but no one was looking at me. The hot air was just shimmering on the grass. I moved Remus Sirius to my other hip.

Finally, the small man stopped speaking and resumed his seat. No one moved, not even Professor McGonagall, who I thought would make some sort of speech, or the Minister. But no one moved an inch.

Then, bright white flames erupted around Dumbledore's body. A couple of people screamed. They were probably the Muggle born students or the parents of the Muggle born students. The ones who weren't expecting a body to catch on fire.

The flames also lit the table he was laying on, on fire too. The flames rose higher and higher. White smoke started to spiral through the air, making shapes. For a moment, it seemed as though a phoenix flew from the smoke into the blue but the flames were out a moment later and there was no phoenix in the sky. There was now a white marble coffin that Dumbledore was laying inside.

A shower of arrows soared gracefully through the air in neat, symmetrical arcs and landed a few feet from the coffin. It was the Centaurs' tribute. I saw the briefest glance of Ivagio's face before the Centaur's turned tail, heading back into the forest. The merpeople went back down into their lake.

People started to stand, talking to people they hadn't talked to prior to the funeral. Hands being shaken, conversations starting.

Firenze took my hand and squeezed it. "Until we meet again Elizabeth Kane."

I hugged him tightly before letting him go. He ran a hand over Remus' head before moving away from us.

He trotted back up to the castle, careful to pass by Dolores Umbridge, who jumped back with a shriek. I smiled.

Hermione and Ron joined me, Hermione taking Remus from my arms. I hadn't realized how sore they were. Her face was glazed with tears, Ron's arm around her. There were tearstains dropped all down the back of his dress robes. Hermione had obviously been crying all over him today.

Harry made his way towards us, to make a circuit around the lake. He got close, though not close enough to talk to us yet when behind him came Rufus Scrimgeour. "Harry!"

Harry turned, though not before we saw the briefest flash of annoyance cross his face.

"I've been hoping to have a word... do you mind if I walk a little way with you?"

"No." Harry said shortly, continuing on his way towards us.

"Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy. I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one knows better than I-"

"What do you want?" Harry asked, having finally reached us.

"You are, of course, devastated. I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favorite pupil ever. The bond between the two of you-" Scrimgeour said, ignoring the rest of us completely. I saw over his shoulder that Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Dad were eyeing us with curiosity.

"What do you want?" Harry asked again.

Scrimgeour stopped, leaning on his walking stick, glancing at us. Professor McGonagall slowed to a stop near Kingsley.

"Say what you have to." Harry said, "But you'll have to say it in front of them."

"The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night that he died."

"Whose word?" Harry asked.

"Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the tower after Dumbledore died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Harry."

"Glad to hear it. Well, where I went with Dumbledore and what we did is my business. He didn't want people to know." Harry said flatly.

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course, but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's gone."

"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him." Harry said, smiling.

"My dear boy. . . even Dumbledore cannot return from the-"

"It's what Harry said before killing the ghost of Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets." I said before I could stop myself. "It's what Dumbledore said before he was taken away by the Governors. Dumbledore's spirit lives on whether you believe that or not and so Harry will always be tied to that loyalty of him."

Harry and I exchanged a knowing glance, a good one. We were always going to stick to each other's sides now.

Scrimgeour hesitated and then said, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at your service-"

Harry laughed which startled even me. "Voldemort wants to kill me himself, and Aurors won't stop him. So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

"And you?" Scrimgeour asked, looking at me and then Remus in Hermione's arms. "You do have a, ah, child now."

"Like Harry said, Voldemort wants me, a few Aurors won't stop him. I can take care of myself, I know how to disappear off the grid." I said confidently.

"Because your father's a werewolf?" Scrimgeour asked.

My face flushed and I took a step towards him. Harry grabbed my arm, "Take that back!" I snapped. Tonks squeezed Dad's hand. Uncle Moody was now leaning on his walking stick, having stopped by Kingsley's side, eyeing Rufus with dislike. Professor McGonagall looked rather nervous, watching my face.

Scrimgeour seemed unfazed. "It was a comment, not a criticism." He turned to Harry. "So, the request I made of you at Christmas-"

"What request? Oh yeah. . . the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for-"

"-for raising everyone's morale!" Scrimgeour snapped. He'd finally lost his delicate, sorrowful tone and I bit my tongue to keep from commenting.

"Released Stan Shunpike yet?" Harry asked.

"I see you are-"

"Dumbledore's man through and through. That's right." Harry said.

Scrimgeour stared at the four of us for a moment and then stomped back to where Percy and a few of the other Ministry delegation, waiting for him near Hagrid and Grawp.

"Let me go back and hit Percy." Ron said.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "No!"

"It'll make me feel better!"

Harry and I laughed. Hermione grinned a little, her smiled faded though, looking back up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back. How can Hogwarts close?" she asked.

"Maybe it won't. We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen." Harry said.

"I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?" Hermione asked sadly.

"I'm going back to the Dursley's once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to. But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good." Harry stated.

Remus started to fuss and Hermione handed him over.

"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?" Ron asked.

"I though I might go back to Godric's Hollow." Harry said. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that."

"And then what?" Ron asked.

"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" Harry asked. "I've got a list of them right now. That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right- and I'm sure he was- there are still four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them, and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. And if-" Harry stopped and cleared his throat and said nothing more.

There was a long silence, many of the stragglers were finally starting to make their way out except for Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Dad who were still watching us.

"We'll be there, Harry." Ron said.

"What?" Harry asked, taken aback.

"At your aunt and uncle's house. And then we'll go with you wherever you're going."

"No." Harry said quickly.

"You said to us once before that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?" Hermione asked softly and both Hermione and Ron looked at me.

I shook my head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

"Why?" Ron demanded.

"Because. . ." I said softly. "Remus. I can't leave him, not now and. . . and. . . I see all the people who. . . who die next year and. . . and let's just say. . . say I'm close to a few of them and I. . . I'm going to try and prevent them from dying. . . formulate a plan, make more Felix Felicis. And if I'm. . . not successful. . ." I drew in a deep breath, more tears falling down my face, "Then at least I spent time with them, you know?" My voice cracked.

"I understand." Harry said. "And I'm glad."

"I believe your words would have been, 'No parent should leave their child if they have a choice'." I said with a smile.

"I said that?" Harry asked, seeming surprised.

"Yes." I said. "Or, you will."

"Well," Ron said, "You're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."

"Why?" Harry and I both asked.

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

I stared at Ron for a moment and then started to laugh and the other three joined in with me and when we were finally able to stop laughing Harry said, "Yeah, we shouldn't miss that."

⬅️➡️

[ninjadudettekira]

This art piece made me scream into the fucking void omfg, this was brutal. 77 layers and a lot of folders on Ibis Paint X. Hopefully I didn’t miss any mistakes cause I did when I showed this to Discord, and while I was posting this I almost forgot to unhide Ben’s pillow. 

In one of the Ben 10 Discord’s I’m in, someone was like “Hey I’m working on a Ben 10 character mixtape and was tempted to add Brutal by Olivia Rodrigo for Ben just for these lines.” And I was like “Yo I’m tempted to draw that!” And here we are 4 days later. (In app time says like 16 hours and 18 minutes lmao.)  More details about the drawing under the cut cause, boy oh boy does Allie have a lot to talk about with this piece.

I used a lot of screenshots from the show as a reference in order to draw how I saw this in my head. The second one was actually a reference to Young Justice episode Misplaced where Billy saw Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad on the TVs from the store he was walking past. “I feel like no one wants me” I was originally just going to do only Azmuth and Ben, but I wanted to do a three thing and I ended up going with Julie since their relationship in UA was rocky. (I also debated using Grandpa Max over her, but I couldn’t think of a time where Max was like that.) Also fun fact everytime I kept writing “feel” I did “fell” and took me so long to get it right. I was gonna go with a school background, but I couldn’t get it right so I went with what I did. Y’all know how when your life is a mess everyone seems like a shadow to you and everything around you is fuzzy? That’s what I was going for there. Also the fact that people want Ben for his aliens, not himself.  “And I hate the way that I’m perceived” For the news report I did use the screenshot of that pose itself because I honestly couldn’t get it right when trying to freehanded it nor did I want to straight up trace it cause of how I had the TV screens. Figured there was no harm in using the screenshot itself for it. Just like “feel”, I had a tough time writing “perceived” correctly, I kept doing “pre-” over “per-”. Listen pretty sure I’m dyslexic so bare with me, English is hard. “I only have two real friends” Despite the fact that Kevin and Gwen are in their Season 3 Alien Force outfits, this takes place in UA. I went with those outfits for that lyric simply because I wanted to lmao. (And I guess cause it makes more sense cause before Vilgax came back the trio was having a good time? It makes sense I swear.) 

“And lately, I’m a nervous wreck” I was originally using a photo of Danny from Danny Phantom as a reference cause he’s been a nervous wreck in some episodes, and I couldn’t remember Ben ever being nervous like how I wanted to draw him to do a reference. But Danny just ended up being thrown out the window when that wasn’t working out, ended up doing what I did though.  I was originally gonna color the floor, but I was playing around with brushes on Ibis and that happened. I kept it cause it worked for what I was going for lol. 

Also just a FYI, my DeviantArt is Kira Sema so that’s why my watermark in the panels say that over my actual name/username here. I’m trying to keep my newer artwork with a consistent watermark that leads somewhere if someone were to look up the name. (Despite the fact I’m still very backlogged on uploading old/current artwork to my DA.) 

[zgvlt]

stick to the script sebek zigvolt x reader

summary: You and Sebek don't quite get how you're supposed to play your respective roles when you can't stop arguing with each other

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, rivals with mutual pining, repressed people, AU: no magic, AU: theatre, kissing, 1.7k+ words, not beta read

author’s note (see end notes for more): trying something new? i usually write sebek softly, and i don't really write dynamics like this, so i thought i would try it for fun + practice... i also just really want to write more theatre AUs the rook fic was not enough

[you can also read this on AO3]

Sebek couldn't tell anyone how he got into this situation in the first place. One minute he's getting recruited for their school's theatre club due to his good projection and wonderful diction, then he's telling his seniors that he doesn't have the time for such frivolous activities, and the next thing you know he's learning his lines and arguing with you about how to go about a scene.

Well, technically he knows what convinced him to join—Malleus and Lilia, the two seniors he respected most. They both said something along the lines of... exerting his energy somewhere productive?

Sebek never considered that he would have a talent for art—he's aware that his drawings dare not compare to the portraits he's seen in museums, his writing dare not compare to the poetry and prose of his favorite books. Still, perhaps something like this was doable. All he had to do was memorize these lines, right? The action scenes were relatively easy, too—of course they were! He was in the martial arts club, after all!

Besides, his seniors said they would watch him, so obviously he had to...

"Sebek, it's just like you to slack off when your precious seniors aren't in sight," you said, clicking your tongue as you strolled in the dressing room. "Shouldn't you be practicing? The Sevens know you need it."

At the sound of your irritating voice, Sebek immediately regretted joining the production. He should have not signed up at all, even if it meant disappointment on the ends of Malleus and Lilia. How could he even think to do good, no, passable with you of all people as his... stage partner, he would settle calling it.

"I just can't get rid of you, can I?" he retorted, snarling in response, "FIRST you follow me from elementary to high school, SECOND you appear in all my classes, THIRD you join the debate society after I do, and NOW in theatre?!"

"As if!" you huffed, smacking your script onto the vanity table. The thickness of the papers created a resounding thud. 

In the back of his mind, Sebek compared his copy of the script—binded nicely in a clear folder, the plastic sheets keeping them from being dirtied—to yours—bookbinded, with tabs and markings all over. Were you trying to brag, to deliberately show that you read through it more often than him?!

 "You're the one who's following me!” you insisted, with your typical response of trying to turn the tables back on him. “You just can't get enough of me, can you? I mean, I don't blame you. If I wasn't around, your life would be so boring."

He loathed you, he told himself.

"You must be the vainest human I've ever met." 

You grinned then—that cheeky, fiery one that you only ever threw at him, and none of those sickly sweet smiles that you presented to everyone else when you wanted someone to swoon over you. 

"Better vain than delusional, Sebek," you looked at the mirror to begin fixing your appearance, and by his mistake he looked at you through your mirror as well. "Stop staring at me—we should be productive."

He ignored your first comment—it was entirely your fault for being distracting, intrusive, like an invasive species. Anyway, this wouldn't be the first time either one of you had done this routine. He could put aside his... loathing of you for a mutual interest.

"From scene 3?"

"Scene 3, line 17," you specified. It annoyed Sebek, even though he was exactly the type of person to do the same unto you given the chance. "Start already!"

Sebek knew he was supposed to be looking at you in this scene and that you were supposed to be looking at you, too, but he could only withstand looking at your reflection. By the looks of it, by where your eyes were directed, you felt about the same. 

He was sure if he had to lock eyes with you, he wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Sebek began, performing his part by memory. He knew you would scold him for reading through the script when he’s had a whole month to memorize him. Never mind that everyone else was willing to give the both of you some slack for not being a part of the drama club in the first place—anything you could do, he could do better.

“Why shouldn’t I?” you replied, with as much sweetness as you could muster in your voice. It sickened Sebek, how perfectly you could falsify that tone, a loveliness directed at him that made his stomach churn and his head spin. “We made a promise, didn’t we? Wherever one goes–”

“–the other follows,” Sebek continued, attempting to emulate the same tone as you. You scrunch your face for a moment, but by the way you don’t try to correct him he knows he’s said the line exactly how you wanted him to. 

“I know that, and I know I can’t stop you from coming along, but—”

“Sebek,” you were clicking your tongue again, and as he watched you through the mirror he thought, for the nth time today, of how annoying you were. “You messed up the line—you always mess up this line. Haven’t you gotten used to it already?!”

Sebek flushed red in anger—it was one thing to be wrong, and it was another to be told by you, as though you were disappointed in him, as if you had expectations of him.

“Like, come on Sebek! Get a grip!”

“Do you know how hard it is to call you these… names?! You of all people?”

“Well it’s difficult for me too!” you exclaimed, standing up only to face him properly, finally ready to throw all your emotions at him. “Do you think it’s easy for me to look you in the eye and call you darling and my beloved?

“But I’m at least trying to say them as naturally as possible! If you don’t wanna be replaced, you better start working on doing the same… honey.”

The pet name should have sounded awkward coming from your mouth with how you forced yourself to spit it out, but Sebek’s ears must have been malfunctioning today. Like the substance you mentioned, the word came out viciously viscous, and with every drop of attention you gave him—the huffs and puffs and glares and stares—he lapped it all up, as if watching to see if you would finally break first.

“As if you could find anyone to replace me, dear,” Sebek commented haughtily, knowingly, “maybe YOU’RE the problem, have you considered that? Maybe I’ll get myself a different partner, then!”

Never mind that should either one of you leave, the other gets no real say on the replacement; never mind that should either one of you leave, the other will clearly do so as well.

With all your fighting, nobody knows you as intimately and deeply as he does. That is to say, nobody else will know just how bothersome and downright maddening you could be.

“Will you, now?” You don’t even sound doubtful anymore, don’t even try to pretend. 

With all your fighting, nobody knows him as intimately and deeply as you do.

“I suppose I pity who you end up being partnered with, then,” you feigned a sigh, “having to pair up with someone who always has a stick up his ass.”

“Better than someone who always wants to have it their way,” he replied in unkind, “always wants to have the last say, can’t stand the fact that someone is capable of being better than them.”

You grit your teeth, and Sebek stared at your mouth, eyes trained on the movement of your lips.

“Gods, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“YOU’RE the one who won’t stop talking when I’m just trying to practice our script!” he stood up from his seat, as if preparing to leave you alone in the dressing room. “You’re wasting my breath with this.”

“Then do us both a favor and stop talking.”

It’s an invitation for something. The most logical as to what for would be to continue arguing with you, to call you a hypocrite or some other word in the thesaurus synonymous with your name. 

Ruling with his head, however, is hardly ever an option around you.

“As long as you stop talking as well.”

And then Sebek takes a few steps forward, smashing your lips together. He’s unsure if this should count as a loss against you—him being the first to initiate this—or if he’s won with how quickly you reciprocate the act. 

Sebek, if caught in this position with you—his hands cupping your face, yours perched atop his shoulders—would claim that he had not expected the argument to end like this. However, nobody had entered the room, so there would be no need for anyone to question his honesty.

He’s burning brightly, and the warmth on his hand, lighting his fingertips aflame can come from nowhere but your neck and cheeks.

He’s lost. He’s definitely lost, but when you pull him closer he knows that so have you.

Sebek makes a sound of irritation as your lips leave his, and in the midst of catching your breath you whisper, “you’re annoying.”

Then you lean in again, because apparently you like kissing people you find annoying. 

You said that last time, too—or perhaps it was vexatious you had called him. Whatever it was didn’t matter too much as last time, you also insisted there would be no next time. He supposed nothing was definite in the four walls of the dressing room.

Or the four walls of any other room.

When Sebek breaks away from the kiss, masking the pants of his breath and resting his forehead against yours with far more intimacy than he should allow to happen, he wants to tell you it was awful. You didn’t ask, but he knows it would irk you to hear it, and he knows it would lead to another heated argument.

That heated argument would turn into you trying to prove him wrong, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t tell you it was awful—because it would lead to him kissing you again.

That, and, because he would be lying if he said it was awful. He has no intention of telling you, however, that it was anything but.

“You’re the bane of my existence,” Sebek confesses, and you smile as though you had gotten exactly where you wanted to be with him. 

“The feeling’s mutual.”

my other (softer & longer) sebek fics: [one] [two] my rook x theatre actor reader fic

end notes | masterlist

[ 1 ] My past Sebek one-shots, they've all had reader be very nice to Sebek, because I want people to be nice to Sebek and he deserves good and sweet people in his life. I also had Sebek warm up to them very quickly. This time, I went with the opposite -> Sebek and Reader who have known each other for years but still argue everyday. It just seemed fun, so I wrote it.

[ 2 ] The general prompt I was going for was "two people who are very repressed and can't accept that their feelings towards some can change, and maybe it's because they're afraid of change". Of course I don't really explore it, but hopefully I've hinted at the fact that they're very much into each other it's just... easier for them like this.

[ 3 ] I also wanted to write a different reader this time, someone kind of insufferable. You might wonder if it's just to Sebek, and you can imagine what you want, but I think it's more fun if reader genuinely is kind of smug and a bit of a know-it-all, they're just more self aware than Sebek is.

[ 4 ] I wondered if I should call them "enemies" but as much as they would insist on it, they don't hate each other, they don't try to ruin each other's lives or anything. They compete, they argue, and they kiss on the side 🤷‍♀️ They challenge and motivate each other.

[ 5 ] No basis for what play/musical they're doing since I didn't want to restrict myself. In my imagination, though, there were action sequences, and Sebek and reader fought other characters on stage together.

[ 6 ] "How often do they kiss" uhhh enough for Sebek to not freak out about it too much (in front of you), make your guesses

Anyway, if you have any further questions about reader and Sebek for this fic feel free to drop and ask I probably have the answer in my head nyehehe

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Hey. Can I have fic: matt saves reader from abusive partner (Reader has kids) please?

Love,

Emi

Thank you for the prompt! Okay, I’ve gone with more of an indirect kind of ‘saving’, and I hope that’s cool as I wanted the victim to take a lot of the credit for her actions.

T/W: Mental and Physical Abuse, domestic abuse, swearing, lawyer Matt.

¦¦ Out ¦¦

"The fuck is dinner so late? S’not like you do anythin' all day, why I gotta wait?"

"I-I'm sorry baby," she apologises, laying the table, "my, um… my art class ran a bit late and I had to pick the kids up from the daycare after."

"Art class? The hell you doin that for?"

"Well I just, I always liked to draw when I was younger, thought I'd get back into it."

He looked at her like she'd grown an extra head before spotting the folder leant up against the wall. In her haste to get dinner prepared she'd forgotten to put it away.  

He nodded at it. "S'at your stuff? Show me then."

She picked at her fingers. "Um… it's silly."

"Show me." His eyes bored into her.

She almost tripped over herself to retrieve the folder, heart thudding and hands shaking as she opened it for him.

He bellowed out a laugh as he carelessly flicked through the sketches. "Good thing you don't have a day job, kids draw better than you." He flung the folder across the table causing some of the papers to fall to the floor. "What's more important; me comin’ back to a home cooked meal after workin' my ass off all day, or your silly little art class? Don't even know why I'm askin 'cos even an idiot like you knows the answer already. Don'tcha hon?"

She looked down at the floor nodding slowly, glad her son and daughter were in the other room playing so they didn't need to witness their mother being belittled and demeaned yet again.

The next day on her way down to the laundry room she was so wrapped up in thoughts of how she could take the kids and leave him she almost bumped right into someone coming up the stairs.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! Not paying attention, as usual…"

Matt smiled, "hey, it's alright, I'm not really looking where I'm going either!" 

She almost allowed herself to laugh. "Oh shit, oh god I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise!” she stuttered as she realised he was holding a white cane and wearing dark glasses. He’d asked if she needed any help with the clothes but she felt a bit guilty asking a blind person for help and politely declined.  

Matt couldn't help but hear her soft cries from down the stairs. He had been keeping a note of when he heard shouting and the bangs of slamming doors and objects being thrown coming from her apartment, he knew he’d need it if she ever decided to do something.

Even if somewhere deep down she knew all those hateful comments were coming from his own inadequacies and insecurities it didn't make them hurt any less. The longer it went on the more they chipped away at her self esteem and the easier it was to believe them. Matt saw it happening over the next few weeks when she might pass him in the stairwell or the laundry room. He couldn't hear the sparkle of her smile anymore, whatever coping mechanisms she had slipped on dulled it and shrouded what little she did say with a hollowness. It was as if her spirit had been cut out of her.

"Hey, how're the two rascals doing?” Matt asked her one day, “If you’d like you could all come up to my apartment, it’s good for a game of hide and seek, and contrary to what you might think, I’m actually pretty good at it.” he smiled at her, being open and as welcoming as he could without forcing the issue. 

Whenever she had talked to him in the hallway for even a moment her husband knew.

“You been whoring around with that smartass lawyer again huh? Just as well he's blind, can't see how fucking ugly you are. Don’t fucking speak to him again, you got that?"

“Um, I’d…the kids would love that! But, I’m sorry. I can’t.” she replied, so quietly, so that he wouldn't hear. 

Matt tilted his head, hearing her heartbeat ratchet up with fear, but not fear of him. “Listen, I know it’s not my place to say, but if you need to talk… about anything, I’m a lawyer, and a really good listener.” 

She nodded, desperate to accept his offer but afraid of what would come after. “Thank you, but it’s really alright. Nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

Matt frowned slightly. “Well, if you’re sure… but you know I’m just upstairs.”

A week later, the abuse turned physical. Sure it was just a push, but it sent her thumping into the kitchen counter with a massive bruise on her hip to follow. She’d tried her best to be what he wanted, moulded and limited herself and her own needs to meet his just to avoid any conflict, but with that kind of a person it didn’t matter what she did, it was always the wrong thing. A push turned into a slap, turned into a punch.

She finally reached out to Matt, she didn’t want her children growing up seeing behaviour like this as normal in their lives.

“I’m glad you came,” he said as he welcomed her and the kids into the apartment. 

“He’s- he’s at work just now.” Her voice started to waver. “... I don’t know what to do, I just can’t take it anymore! He’ll know we’re here when he gets back, he’ll know!”

Matt sat her down on the couch. “I won’t let him hurt any of you, I promise. If he tries, he’s not getting in here. My partner Foggy and I can contact social services and the police, and we’ll find somewhere safe for you to stay in the meantime. There’s certainly enough evidence to grant a divorce, get sole custody of the kids, and I’m sure we can get a restraining order out on him too because of the physical abuse. We’ll get you out.”

She let out a shaky sigh. “He never used to be like this… it just all happened so fast and I couldn’t do anything, I was too weak!” 

Matt shook his head at her. “There is no way in hell you are weak. You’re here now, you’re asking for help, you’re keeping your family safe. That is one of the hardest and strongest decisions anyone could make, and you made it on your own.”

Matt tags: @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdocksscars @marvelswh0re

@hellskitchens-whore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers (February 22nd, 2021)

Hello! Here’s another collection of anon ask answers all put together in one big post.

This might be strange considering how upbeat yall are about the fandoms for your games in general, but is there any particular trope or ship you WOULDN'T want us writing/drawing/etc. in relation to your stuff? (IE, any canon you don't want us 'overwriting' or something like that?)

Of course we would want the fan content people make to not be racist, sexist, homophobic, bigoted, harmful, etc. But in terms of generally doing non-canon pairings or adding in headcanons or stuff, we really don’t mind that. People are welcome to have fun and explore their own ideas.

for the 1.2 Android update was it meant to download as a  separate app? I really want to keep my previous save files but they don't show up (also thank u for the updates I'm really excited to get back into the game!!)

We had to change the name of the file and unfortunately for some phones that meant it’s treated as a brand new game. I’m sorry your saves didn’t transfer over to the new version. You can try to look up your specific phone and see if there’s a way to access save files for games on your device and then transfer those saves over to the new build manually. It may or may not be possible.

I'm having some trouble figuring out how to get the update from Itichio without losing my save files? Is it the same game or a folder I can put in the properties? Sorry if this question is not worded well or if this isn't the avenue you'd want to take technical questions on

Are you using Android? If so, the above answer may apply to you. If you’re on PC or Mac, the save files will automatically still be included.

Hey. I really loved playing our life. It was a fun experience and I never thought I would like it this much. I do have a question, I am currently replaying the game and I am choosing choices I never chose at first. In step 2 during the road trip arc, I decided to ask Cove about what he liked to see on people. One of his response was anklets and black eyes. My MC have just happens to have black eyes. Do Cove say black eyes cuz my mc have it or it was just a coincidently programmed into the game?

He uses your eye color intentionally! If you changed your eye color he’d change what he said.

Will step 4 have 10 moments like steps 1-3? 

Step 4 is only an epilogue. It plays like the openings/endings of the earlier Steps where it’s a bunch of scenes all in a row, there aren’t any individual Moments.

hi! who was/were the artist(s) for our life? 

&

who is the artist for Our Life: Beginning and Always?

Main Sprite and CG Artist: Addrossi

Main Background Artist: Vui Huynh

Main Interface Artist: Winter Slice

Other artists who helped out can be seen in the credits of the game.

In the new ol, there are two main love interests... Would it be possible to pair them together or is that weird? 

You can’t stay single and pair them together. If we are going to add all the extra content to have a route where the two LIs get together, it’d be a full poly route where them and the MC were all dating. And that’s not a for sure option yet because it’d add a lot of extra complications. But either way, in OL the relationships all gotta be about the MC, haha.

In OL2, there will be extra LIs in form of DLCs? Like Dexter and Baxter. 

Maybe! We’ll see how it goes.

Since Cove will have 2 diff body types in s4, will the storyline and dialogs reflect this? Or all of it will be the same? Btw love the game and sorry for bad english. Hope this doesn't sound rude 😅 

Some descriptions and pieces of dialog will change, but it won’t impact the story really. And you don’t need to apologize! It’s all good.

Will you ever release the transparent sprites of the Our Life characters? 

Probably not, I’m afraid. They’ve got a lot of pieces and it’d just be kind of hard to deal with, aha.

Something I was curious about, what was your inspiration for making a game with so much customization?

Initially, the idea was just about having a romance where you actually grew up with the LI. But it was pretty stressful to try deciding how fast the relationship would progress with it taking place over such a long period of time and with no real storyline carrying it. People might not wanna play a game where the characters don’t get along as kids, but other people might not bother with a game where kids immediately liked each other. So the obvious answer came, just let the player pick themselves how it goes. From there we simply continued to add more flexibly with the MC due to the same thought process of wanting to make sure people were onboard with how their life was going.

What made you decide to change the artstyle for ol 2 so much? I of course respect all your decisions and will buy the shit out of everything related to ol 2, but i love the original style and i m honestly not a fan of the styles shown on patreon, despite me liking the painterly style in general. (I don t mind the style being changed, just that the examples shown so far all feel like there s something wrong with them.) 

We’ve always used different art styles for each of our projects. They all have distinct looks from each other. It’s just nice to do something new. I’m glad you really like how the first game looks, though. And those samples were only general concepts, rather than the exact options being decided between. We wanted to see reactions to different options. The art style we’re going with won’t be exactly like those, though I personally like all of them. I think players are gonna enjoy the style Our Life: Now & Forever when it’s revealed.

Hey! Is it ok to ask what gender ourlife2 protagonist will be and if we'll be given the same opportunity to customize an MC? Totally understand if you're keeping this under wraps for now if u don't wanna say! 

OL2 will have the same type of MC customization as OL1, but even more refined! So their gender will be up to you.

Hi! I happened upon Our Life on Steam by pure chance. It is such a great game, I am super excited about the DLC, and I just want you all to know that you are awesome! :D I have a question, and I'm sorry if it's been asked before. Do you have plans of making more games similar to Our Life, with customizable player character? The customizable player character was probably the one thing I personally have been desperate for in romance VNs. So glad there finally is one and would love to see more.

Thank you! And yep, we do have plans for more games like Our Life, most notably is another game in the franchise- Our Life: Now & Forever. We’ll also likely have other, non-OL, games with customizable MCs, though we may still have some games with set MCs in the future as well.

On the patreon dlc just curious but is it possible to play it without actually sleeping together/getting the nsfw content? I just want to spend more time with Cove 

Yeah, you can still choose not to go that far. Though the event is shorter if you pass on the 18+ stuff.

At the beginning of Step 2, did Cove end up accidentally falling asleep in your bed? Or did he fall asleep on the floor? 

He fell asleep sitting on the floor with his body/head leaning against the side of the bed.

This may seem like a weird question, but what exactly is the difference between "direct" and "relaxed" on the comfort scale?

Direct is blunter and more teasing, relaxed is lighthearted and goes with the flow.

can the MC have tattoos in step 3? 

Not in Step 3, but you can in Step 4.

how would Cove react if he visited somewhere like North Carolina in winter where it can get in the 20s(F) at night sometimes? 

He would be shocked and unprepared for what serious coldness is really like, haha. The poor beach baby would wanna go home.

Hello! I just joined the PATREON!! It’s amazing! I love your games! I have a question, approximately how much after will the nsfw be out? After or before the dlc 3 and step four? Sorry my English isn’t the best!❤️❤️❤️ 

Thanks so much! The NSFW DLC will be out after the Step 3 DLC but before Step 4. And you don’t need to apologize for that ^^.

This might be obvious but, will step 4 have dlcs? Also, where will the nsfw dlc happen? Won't bother me at all if it s in in our or his house but i do think it d be moderately funny 

Step 4 will have the Cove Wedding DLC and the Derek and Baxter romance DLCs each add a lot of new content to Step 4, though they’re also partially set in Step 2 and Step 3 respectively. The NSFW DLC happens in Cove’s room.

I keep wondering what would've happened if Mr. Holden met Lizzie first instead of the MC. I can't see that turning out well somehow lol. 

It wouldn’t have made a difference. He met the MC’s parents first and they told him about their two kids. He wanted the MC specifically to be Cove’s friend because the two were the same age.

Even though we have a way to go I'm really excited for OL 2! I was curious though, is the next main character going to be adopted again? I thought it was really clever to make the first main character adopted so when players are customizing,  they can make them look how ever they like without worrying about pesky genetics. Just wondering! 

The OL2 MC is not adopted. We wanted to go for a new dynamic. Instead their parents are their biological single mother who is partially customizable and an off-screen sperm donor father. So the mom will look generally like the MC and any other traits not from her can be assumed to come from whoever the father was.

—– —– —–

Thank you so much for all the asks ^^

FAQ   If you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

[tundrainafrica]

Note: Instead of posting a meta or a fic today, allow me to take a quick break from that because I think I really need to appreciate some people here and the fandom overall.  

February 7, 2021. 

Today, I turned 24 and my boyfriend surprised me with a gift I think I’ll be taking to heart for a very long time. 

The story behind the gift was as precious (or even more precious) as the gift itself and I thought I’d share it since it turned out some content creators were involved in this gift and I very much want to express how much this gift has defined this day for me and will place my 24th birthday as one of those birthdays I don’t think I’ll ever forget. 

Apparently, I had casually dropped both my tumblr and my ao3 account during one of our conversations and somewhere around November he had started looking through my bookmarks, my posts on tumblr and some of my interactions with people in the fandom.

I should have seen it coming. It had started with my boyfriend suddenly asking about my hyperfixation with Levihan.

Sav? Shipping? Sav? Binge reading ships and meta posts? Sav? Gushing about a fictional ship?

And I remember gushing about this with my seemingly uninterested boyfriend a long night after explaining what was oddly the most out of character thing for someone like me. 

I was sharing with him my metas and hcs and maybe, I was dropping a few of my favorite quotes along the way and it turned out he was interested. Suddenly he was asking me about my favorite fics, my favorite scenes. Suddenly, he was rereading my favorite fics with me and a few times, he was quoting those same scenes. I did find out he was looking through my blog when I got a random message from a really sketchy tumblr telling me to open my facebook. 

I suspected a few times that he could be planning something. December passed with nothing and eventually he stopped asking so I clocked that as a fevered dream or unnecessary assuming on my end and didn’t think too much of it after. 

It turned out my boyfriend had messaged my favorite authors about their fics and he commissioned one of my favorite artists (if not my favorite) to draw a few photos and bound them into a Levihan Anthology 

And it feels fucking amazing to receive something like this. To get Levihan which helped me through the worst of 2020, bound forever as a book I can just open up and read anytime. And I guess tearing up at receiving such a gift had me thinking of a lot of things at once (which were always at the back of mind) but I thought of sharing now. 

The past year wasn’t easy. Actually. don’t think it’s an understatement to say this past year was dog shit. With the covid pandemic and all plans after that cancelled, I’m sure we can all agree we had our ups and downs. 

I had a lot of my own plans completely thrown out the window for numerous reasons. I had plans of going to law school part time while building a career. And, I got a job right after college to make these plans come true. In September the law school I got accepted to (after working so damn hard the past year to get accepted) denied my appeal for night classes. I decided to drop my enrollment to focus on my career. A week later, my job laid me off. 

And for once in my life, I wasn’t going anywhere. And I lived in a house where everyone was always doing something and as soon as I lost my job I was pressured to find another one. But as we all know, searching for a job during this pandemic isn’t easy. I was still reeling after having dropped my enrollment just to focus on my job only to lose that job the week after with no prior notice. Everyone around me was busy doing their own thing. I had no one to talk to and for a while, I was falling into this pit of depression. 

My days consisted of me hiding under the covers of my bed in between the few interviews I would take day to day. Around that time, I decided to binge watch Attack on Titan as well 

I was never one to get hyper fixated in ships. In fact, this was the first ship since Royai and Victuuri which I have been so passionate. And this is a whole new level of passion. I think this is the first time I’ve ever written so much in this small amount of time. It was slow going. Just like Levi and Hange’s relationship, my fixation with this ship was a slowburn. 

Those days alone, I was reading fanfiction by the bundle, I was scrolling through the Levihan tag like a simp, leaving kudos in ao3 on a throwaway account and just scrolling through random people’s tumblr accounts. 

What happened during the one month? And when I was alone, sad, lonely and stagnant with no one to talk to, when everyone around me was living their own lives, all I had alone in the bedroom was Levi and Hange’s stories to keep me company between interviews. 

And the meta analyses and headcanons I had about their relationship were teaching me things. They were teaching me that life was never about how quickly you progress or how far you go. Maybe the real winners in life are the ones who can build good relationships, build relationships so mutually satisfying they keep each other growing and in those few moments reading, headcanoning ships, I did realize, maybe even as stagnant as I was at that moment, my life wasn’t dogshit. 

No one’s life is dogshit for a few small bumps along the way. Sometimes it just is part of the process of growing, learning to get past the worse, learning to manage relationships. And maybe it’s these relationships which make life worth living. Maybe it’s these struggles depicted in these stories and the bounce back. Maybe it’s the love, the life, the emotions so carefully described and depicted in every single story which makes life, life. 

With every single fic I read and every single fan art I scrolled through. Levihan was teaching my things about love, loss and life. 

Sometimes, these fandoms are the things which can catch people before they fall too low into something. These works and stories authors and artists shared so generously were what pulled me out of this state and are what inspired me to explore this relationship for all the potential its worth and maybe share my own stories and headcanons which people may learn a thing or two from or maybe just find some comfort and hope in.  

And these inspirations eventually evolved to writing. Writing 10,000 words in a day in between three interviews? I never was a writer but somehow, I found myself spending hours exploring the themes of love, loss and life with our favorite pairing 

I didn’t start writing out of nowhere. I didn’t start making metas out of nowhere. I needed the right inspiration, the right content to get me into this point where I could continue writing, reading, meta-ing, appreciating, headcanoning and everything in between.

And I just wanted to express my gratefulness to every single person in the fandom who had made it possible for me to pull out of that blackhole. Fandoms are underrated and I believe there are so many lessons which can be learned from the right content and from the right people. 

To the people who so willingly went along with my boyfriend’s little project: 

@faerielleart​ I saved A LOT of your art and they’re sitting in my google photos under a folder called Levihan and maybe I did share a few of your photos (the cheeks one and the beast titan one and the les miserables) ones to my boyfriend unsolicited just to show him how beautiful Levihan can be. Thank you so much for these beautiful drawings.

@lizaloveslevihan​ You were one of the first people I talked with in this fandom and dreams really was one of those stories that fucked me up a little bit, had me make a few misses on the commute on the way home one day but maybe it did have me explore the angst genre a little more, maybe it did have me explore Levi’s character a little more. 

@ariadneamare​ YELLOW. OH GOD. You know those letters? The ones which Hange left Levi at the end of the story? I ended up copying and pasting them and sending them to my boyfriend right after reading and I remember talking to him about this. We might be facing that same type of story in the future and I guess that ended up becoming a lot of foundation of our discussion and I guess, it’s just proof that there is so much to learn from fanfiction. There’s just so much to explore and fanfiction as a genre just does not get the credit it deserves.

@fanmoose12​​ I was exploring your works even before I started this tumblr up again. Maybe it was even your works which got me building my own headcanons from Levihan and writing from there. And I think I did leave a few anonymous messages telling you how I started exploring other genres because of your fics. Your works got my out of my dark place, it got me exploring a lot of other genres and for that I’m eternally grateful.

And somehow, my boyfriend picked that all up from late night discussions and one-on-one metas. Surprisingly, he wasn’t just playing along to humor his girlfriend. He was exploring the themes of love, life, loss and Levihan right along with me. (And got spoiled about Hange’s death along the way… Oops.) 

And I am eternally grateful for that and I made sure to shower him with a lot of kisses after he kept me in the loop with what has been going on these past few months with his sudden interest in Levihan.

And this huge thank you goes out to all content creators (authors, artists, gif creators, shitposters alike). Sometimes you never know who’s thinking about your work, who’s shoehorning your works and quoting them to their best friends. Sometimes, you never will find out but your work had pulled someone out of a blackhole which they’ve been stuck in and sometimes you never know that your work has been that seemingly small thing that had taught them a lesson in love, life or relationships. Sometimes, that one work turned out to be an inspiration which got them writing and sharing their own stories or making their own drawings

And I guess, the point is, keep writing. Keep drawing. Keep sharing pouring your love, passion and emotions into works of art because you never really know whose heart you touched or whose life you changed.

I have a job now. I decided to push law school a few years back and maybe take the time to work on myself now and maybe spend the next months or maybe years writing metas and fanfictions. I was pulled out of my hole. I was inspired. I have my own stories to tell and I don’t think I would have been here if I hadn’t spent the last few months reading fic after fic, meta after meta, appreciating art after art, 

So anyway, I just wanted to share some pics of my favortie fics, immortalized in one anthology, all organized by my boyfriend. And I think he made some great decisions with these.

(Bookbinding credits to @mayerwien)

[tangledinmdzs]

blank canvas - junior quartet hcs

the juniors reacting to finding a drawing you made for them

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ ��� ❁ ❃ ❀ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Lan Sizhui

you always say that you’re not an artist

but Sizhui doesn’t agree

he can be cheesy and call you art too, but hehe let’s save that for another time

he loves the little doodles that you always draw on your homework and notes

he appreciate your smiley faces on little sticky notes that you leave around his dorm room as well

small reminders and supportive words like:

you’ve got your presentation in the bag! you can do it ＠＾▽＾＠

don’t forget to buy more milk for cereal!

your best look is when you smile (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

and a plethora of other cheesy things that get him through the day

and you always draw cute little faces, they’re kind of like chibi style

so when he’s rifling around on your desk, 

because you had told him that you had left your flash drive somewhere between all your papers and what not

he’s surprised to come across a full piece of printing paper

with a picture

that’s him

and you

chibi style

and he wanted to stare at it for longer than 5 minutes, but you had called him from the living room and he doesn’t think he was supposed to see it anyways

so he shuffles it back from where it was under your folders and looks a bit closer for your flash drive until he finally sees it next to your eraser

and when he gets out of the room, he doesn’t ask you about the picture, since judging from the ‘happy anniversary’ wording you had begun to trace out, it was for your upcoming date in a week

and really Sizhui can’t wait to see the finished product

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ ❀ ❁ ❃ ❀ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Lan Jingyi

all the love for this guy, but he would have no artistic talent

at least, not in the drawing and painting field

which is why he appreciates that you can draw

and also why he always gushes whenever you draw anything

because he can’t draw for shit, lol

but you have a different perspective of him, since well, you do draw

you appreciate how passionate and animated Jingyi is

his face has just the right portions

and the strong emotions in them always

makes you itch for your pencil

and ever since you’ve met him, you’ve found him to be the easiest person to just...draw

Jingyi doesn’t know of course

you wouldn’t dare tell him,

he’d laugh

but whenever you guys are out on a date in the city, or sat together amidst the greenery you get hit with moments of inspiration

moments of inspiration usually wrapped in a loud laugh of his

or his face, tilted up to bathe in the warm afternoon sunlight, sat high on a rock edge at Central Park

or his mused hair whenever you run your hand through them after an afternoon lounging together in your quiet apartment

you remember ever moment 

and you try your very best to capture you favorite moments on paper

Jingyi finds the sketches a few months after dating you

when he is grabbing a book from you desk and accidentally knocks a pile of papers and your large canvas sketch book open onto the floor

he doesn’t believe its him

because you make him look godly,

with the way that you color in the shadows around his hands

and the delicate way you trace his jawline on paper

as you do in real life

Jingyi stares in awe at your work

and he really can’t believe

that someone would love him this much

to see him this way

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ ❀ ❁ ❃ ❀ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Jin Ling

doesn’t seem like he could draw himself, but i think he would be pretty good at coloring

specifically water coloring

you’re a lot better at sketching than him and such things like that

but he’s a lot better at choosing the right hues

and overall you both usually work together on most of your class projects

and you work well, together

which is why he’s mildly confused when you suddenly become secretive of something in you sketch book a halfway into the year

because you both had shared most of you art together before

so what was the point of your being secretive now?

did it annoy him a little?

perhaps

okay it very very much did annoy him

it annoyed him to the point that he had waited for you to, trustfully, leave your sketch book alone with him one day on the table at the coffee shop and go to the bathroom

oh what a mistake that was

Jin Ling grabs the book and opens it the moment you’re out of sight

and besides, what’s the worse he could see?

he was expecting some abstract art or even accentuated anime style

he wasn’t expecting to see himself

page after page of different styles 

but the same person

he’s in awe at your progress

and also

he’s become your muse???

he slams your sketch book close when he hears footsteps coming close in the distance

but his face is still so red

you ask him if he’d burned his tongue on the coffee that he ordered or something, but he just denies you

had he become your muse?

Jin Ling thinks and thinks and thinks the whole time

he’d become your muse!

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ ❀ ❁ ❃ ❀ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Ouyang Zizhen

would have always wanted to learn to draw

and practice makes everything possible

but the feeling that one would get

choosing the right colors

the right texture

the right...everything

Zizhen didn’t have that

but ever since he’d met you, he’d found contentment in watching you draw

loved the way that you just knew what colors would belong where and what would look best there

you’re the perfect artist that he had always dreamed of being

he thinks so

believes this for a while

until he stops by your studio a year or so after knowing you

and he sees it

they’re large canvas, lining up the back wall of your studio amidst other big projects that you’re planning

the closer he gets, the more he sees the details of frustration that you have left on them

one part of the canvas ripped because you had erased or pressed too hard

a splotch of color clearly gone out of line from the way that you wanted it to go

and such other little things

its the first pieces of unfinished work that he’s ever seen from you

and they’re still, just as beautiful as your finished ones, Zizhen thinks

“do you know what you’re looking at?”

your voice surprises him as you come up behind him

he turns around to look at you, shake his head in confusion

you smile at him, pull him a step or two back so he can the full canvas

it’s a human face...

different directions and trials

“it’s you,” you admit, quietly

your voice echoes in the studio

he widens his eyes as he recognizes himself between the lines you’ve erased and gone over

“i want to draw you...in the best way that i can. but it’s been taking me a while to do that...” you admit, almost like you’re ashamed

Zizhen turns to look at you, taking your hands in his

the calluses you’ve built, as you labored over paintings of a man like him

“it has already been the biggest honor of my life, to be someone worthwhile for you paint,” he admits to you in the quietness of your studio

you smile at him

he smiles back

[krreader]

the notes.

pairing: kim namjoon x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; art students!au genre: fluff word count: 1.5k+

summary: it only takes one person to see your potential to change your life forever, one way or another.

a/n: I was really torn between a tae or a namjoon story for this one, but I really like how it turned out, so I’m glad I picked namjoon lol. I hope you like it too my love and I hope it’s everything you wanted and more ♥

When your paintings were part of an exhibition in an art school, with hundreds of other talented students/artists who were showing off how hard they had worked on their projects for the last couple of months, it wasn't easy to get recognition.

Usually, those who the professors preferred got the best spots to show off their paintings and those who were the most popular were the ones that invited others to the exhibition and therefor gained a few interested spectators.

As for you, you were neither a favorite of a professor, nor the most popular in your University. You were a regular student who ended up somewhere in a corner of this exhibition with maybe one or two people stumbling your way, looking at your paintings with a smile and then walking away again.

It's not like you were an exception here though, you knew that there were many struggling artists like you, sitting on that chair next to your paintings and hoping that at some point, someone would come and see that you had talent.

So that gave you a little comfort.

The exhibition would be open for the public for around three weeks.

The first week, nothing exciting happened and you were happy that you weren't able to count the amount of people that have looked at your paintings with two hands anymore. Just barely, but there have definitely been over ten.

It was during the second week, when you arrived at your designated spot and found a little post-it note hanging on one of your paintings.

At first, you had thought it might be one of your professors that had stopped by while you were gone, telling you you did good, but... no.

“I love this one. When I look at it, it's like I'm staring into another universe.”

You read the lines over and over again, before looking up and around, hoping to see whoever had written that, but the halls were empty. No one, but your fellow art students.

Nevertheless, it was a nice compliment and you quickly shoved it in your folder. It would be one of those cheer-up post-it notes that you’d stick on your wall.

You hadn’t gotten a lot of compliments on your paintings so far, most people just looked at them with a smile and then went about their way. To read something like this meant a lot, even if you wished that person would've said it to your face.

You noticed the second note a day later, when two guys found their way into your designated hallway and were looking at one of your paintings.

You stood next to them, beaming happily and hoping that they'd say something, or that maybe they’d allow you to explain the meaning behind it.

And finally, one talked.

“You really have a lot of talent,” he smiled brightly at you, the other guy walking around your small part of the exhibition to look at every painting that you've made, “What inspires you?”

“It's really hard to say. Something as little as a memory can make me forget everything and draw for hours until I get a result like that. Other times it's interactions, songs, poems.. really anything.”

The guy smiled once again, looking at his friend when he joined him again, before bowing a little, “Thank you.”

You wished they would have stayed longer, but as mentioned before, there were a lot of talented people here. It would be selfish to want them to linger only at your part when there was so much to see.

It was when you sat down again, that you noticed another post-it, this time, sticking to another painting.

“I know it's easy to feel discouraged, but please never give up on drawing. You are one of the most talented people in this school. Even the friend who placed this note here thinks so.”

When you read the last line, your eyes instantly widened, wanting to run after them and ask them about who it was that wrote these notes, but the two had already disappeared, there were too many hallways here and you didn’t want to leave your spot for too long.

You let out a heavy sigh, gently brushing over the note with your thumb, before reading it once more with a small smile.

Why wouldn't he just talk to you? It's not like you didn't appreciate this form of compliments, but you'd really like to thank him in person.

It was only the next morning that another note was waiting for you, only that this time, it was accompanied by a new brush.

“Use it well for future projects that will change the world.”

“Who are you?” you muttered under your breath as you let your fingers brush over the bristles of the brush, smiling at how good they felt.

“I should have introduced myself a while ago.”

The sudden voice made you jump a little and turn around in an instant, being surprised who you were now face to face with.

Because you knew who he was. 

Everyone did.

Kim Namjoon wasn't just a talented artist, he had the eye to find a special piece of art amid thousands of paintings. The professors were already trying to convince him to stay after he got his degree, hoping that he'd join the staff and teach here.

So why was someone like him here?

“Excuse me?” your eyes were wide.

“I was actually going to come myself yesterday and introduce myself, but then something came up and I asked my friends to give you the note after he got interested in your paintings as well. Did he give you the note?”

“Those... were your friends?”

“Taehyung and Jimin. They're students as well. They were as impressed by your paintings as I was when I first saw them.”

Maybe you shouldn't have wished for him to introduce himself and give you the compliments in person, because now you could feel your cheeks heating up and didn’t really know what to say anymore, other than:

“Thank you,” you stammered with a small smile, “That's really kind of you to say.”

“I know how hard it is... to be an artist. I just wanted you to know that you have a special kind of talent.”

“But.. why the notes in the first place?”

Namjoon shrugged with a cute grin, “I thought it was romantic...”

“Romantic,” you choked out, literally choked out, because you instantly started coughing, not having expected that to come out of his mouth.

It took a few seconds to regain your composure and once you did, you found Namjoon chuckling.

“Anyways, there's a reason I revealed myself this soon. There is a special display tonight for certain artists that the professors think should get a chance to present their paintings to a crowd. And... well, they allowed me to pick one too. And I'd like you to be my pick.”

“Me?!” your voice was an octave higher and louder, quickly bowing when you found at least five people staring at you with furrowed eyebrows, “Why me?” you repeated, a little calmer now.

“I meant what I said on these notes. Your paintings make me feel something and that is a quality that I cherish very much in artists. Also, the fact that they put you back here makes me really upset. You should be up front with your talent.”

“You really would put my name forward?” Namjoon couldn't help but smile once more when he saw how your eyes began to shine at this possible opportunity.

“I would.”

“No... strings attached?” you figured that he'd want something back. You would do a lot for an opportunity like this, to finally get the recognition that you've craved so badly.

But his answer surprised you, “If I had the opportunity to shine a light on every talented artist there is out there, I would. I'm trying my best to help at least a few... and I'd like you to be one of them. Without wanting anything back.”

No wonder the professors wanted to recruit him. He'd be an asset for this school for sure.

“Well, I really appreciate this, but I'd feel bad if I didn't give you something back, at least. You've made the past days a lot happier with the notes and also the brush, which is a really nice brush, by the way,” you gulped down hard, slowly building up all the courage that you had in your body, “Do you like coffee? I could.. buy you one if you want to. I mean, if you have a girlfriend or something then obviously not, or maybe? I don't know, uhm..-” you stumbled over your words, the more you spoke, the more embarrassed you became.

But Namjoon thought it was endearing.

“I don't have a girlfriend and I would love to go for coffee with you,” at that, you let out a relieved sigh and straightened your back a little, “But for now, let's focus on the show tonight, okay? I'd like to go over some details with you and figure out which painting you want to display.”

It was so refreshing to find a man like him.

He was open to a date, but he didn't make that a priority right now. The priority was what you had worked so hard for. He recognized that.

It made you fall a little for him already. Or maybe a lot.

It was a lot of emotions that moment, you couldn’t really tell.

[rift-cryptid]

Skbeibdpwkr

Alright. Art dump time, but I'm limited to like 10 images so this is no where near all of my drawings.

I have 300 total in my art folder on my iPad

My favorite drawing I’ve done so far. One of the few that I’ve tried perspective on.

A drawing that takes place in the RHLH AU, sometime after StD but before ItA. Henry is Vibing.

Look out, a crime hydra is coming your way! But... two of the heads don’t seem very amused while the thrid is off mentally somewhere else.

Part-Siren! Henry. I can explain more about him if ya want in a seperate post.

Uh Oh. Little crime boi has found a ghost mushroom. He gonna spook ya.

Hehe. An art piece featuring Keylime and Rift. IF you want an explaination of this one, feel free to ask :)

._. she gonna fight someone-

Mer Rift Mer Rift Mer Rift Mer Ri-

Shy Crime Boi

A full body anthro piece of RHLH Henry. Pretty much what I imagine for his outfit and stuff.

Hope yall liked my art. ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

and now those who wished to be tagged: 

@risenempire

@colour-anon​

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Finally, Chapter 5 is here! It’s been so long lol. I know I said it would be out last Monday, but finals week and the new semester were crazy and I kept forgetting to queue it up! This chapter does deal with some more serious topics, so please be mindful of that (more info in the warnings down below). Anyway, here it is! I hope you all like it! (Also I think I’ll be posting chapters once every other Monday, so hopefully I’ll remember to stick to that!)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Bullying; homophobia and homophobic slurs; description/scene of a panic attack; and swearing. (If there’s anything else, let me know!)

Word Count: 1678 words

--------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER FIVE

Virgil expected it to be a normal day. 

There were no signs that it was going to be important, so why would he think that it would be anything other than ordinary? Ever since Roman had joined them at the cafe, things had been going on as normal except for how he and Roman were actually talking now and then. And even that he’d gotten used to.

The day before, Roman and Patton had come to the cafe again, and Virgil was actually glad they did. Patton was still a ray of sunshine, but Roman seemed to be getting better. Or maybe he had been better all along, and Virgil was just now realizing it. Either way, things were changing, but not much and not necessarily in a bad way.

Yes, things were going good in Virgil’s world. 

That morning, Virgil got up at 6:45, right on time, and dressed in black jeans, a Panic! shirt, and his favorite sweatshirt. While checking his phone, he walked downstairs for breakfast. He ate his cereal and then went back upstairs to brush his teeth and finish getting ready. After making sure he had everything he needed for the day, he headed out, his mom’s voice telling him to have a good day from somewhere in the house. He drove to school without incident, although his usual parking spot was taken, so he had to park a few spots farther away. Logan was standing by his locker when he got to school, like usual. Just like every other day, they walked to class together, and afterwards, parted their separate ways: Logan to chemistry and Virgil to art. 

Things went according to the norm, following the routine that Virgil knew well. Life could’ve been a little more interesting, but then again, he didn’t find it entirely unpleasant. Even when Tommy and Timmy Wallace started making fun of him, it wasn’t that out of the blue. They had taken Roman’s place as the local asshole when he stopped being a bully at the beginning of high school and were set on making Virgil’s life hell.

Virgil’s standing at his locker, digging through his stuff, looking for a folder when Tommy sneers, “Oh, look, Timmy! It’s the emo cock-sucker.” Behind him, he hears Timmy laugh. Heaving a sigh, Virgil turns around, slamming his locker shut, only to find the twins almost nose-to-nose with him. Well, they would’ve been if Virgil wasn’t a whole head shorter than them.  

Glaring at them, Virgil says, “Get out of my way.” He’s carefully controlling his anger, making sure that he doesn’t explode. That would do no good.

“Aww, is poor baby Viwgil getting angwy?” Timmy mocks in a baby voice. He jabs his twin in the side, laughing. Tommy jabs him back. Unconsciously, Virgil’s hands ball into fists. You can’t get angry. You gotta relax. C’mon, Virgil. He grits his teeth, but because he was frustrated at himself, not angry at the twins.

Unfortunately, Timmy notices the actions and points it out. 

“Ahah! Are you gonna fight us, Virgil? Think you can win? Huh?” Timmy is up in Virgil’s face, so close, Virgil can see his spit flying everywhere when he talks.

Ignoring them, Virgil pushes past and starts walking down the hall. I can’t win. It’s a shot at his pride to walk away, but there’s no way he can beat the two star football players in a fight. I just have to ignore it. Virgil’s had a lot of experience being made fun of, but it never gets easier to face. It just gets easier to ignore.

“Hey!” A hand grabs Virgil by the elbow. It whirls him around so he can see the twins’ smirking faces. “Where you going, faggot? Thought you wanted a fight. Huh?” Heart racing, breath quickening, Virgil feels the panic building in him. Keep it under control. 

“Leave me alone,” he tries to say. Nothing comes out. Virgil can’t tell his body to move. Or walk away. Or do anything. The things running through his brain are going too fast. There, then gone. No, is the only thought that sticks.

Virgil sees their mouths moving, but can’t hear what they’re saying. Everything else is too loud. The pounding of his heart. His breaths, coming much too fast. Students talking, yelling. Lockers slamming. No. No. No, no, no no no nononononono. Why can’t the world just slow down. People bump into him. Every time, he flinches, drawing inward. Just have to make myself smaller. Timmy and Tommy are still talking. Virgil still can’t hear them. 

“Timmy! Stop!” a voice calls. This, Virgil hears. A hand reaches out to turn the boys away from Virgil. The only thing visible is wavy brown hair and tan skin. The twin’s shoulders block out everything else. He doesn’t know who it is. Doesn’t care who it is.

In four, he thinks, breathing in deeply. Hold 6. Out 7. He lets the air out in a cascade. Before he can begin hyperventilating again, he repeats the exercise. The noise of the hallway is too loud. His breathing won’t slow down. Come on, Virgil! Goddammit! Get it under control! 

The twins are still wrapped up in their conversation with Roman Princeford. He must’ve been the voice. But Virgil doesn’t have time to wonder why Roman stood up for him. Not while tears are flooding his eyes. Not while he’s fighting them back. Not while the din of the hallway is crashing around him. Not now. 

Virgil hurries out of the main part of the hallway and stands by the door to a janitor’s closet. The walls turn, forming an indent around where the door is, and feels almost like a shield. Trembling hands pull his headphones from his bag and slide them on his head. Tears blur his vision and his fingers shake as he fumbles for the video he’s trying to find. 

Finally, he finds it. The soothing sound of pouring rain fills his head. Soft piano drifts in the background. Dropping his phone on the ground and closing his eyes, Virgil pictures the rain streaking down a window. Slow and soothing and familiar. In 4, hold 6, out 7. Little by little, he starts to calm down, heartbeat returning to its normal pace, breaths slowing until the dizziness goes away.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he sat on the floor, but there’s a gentle tap on his shoulder. When he opens his eyes, Roman looks concerned. Pulling his headphones around his neck, Virgil begins to stand. 

“Are you o—Are you doing better?” Roman asks, looking almost awkward. Even though Roman helped him, Virgil almost scoffs. Of course I'm not okay, dumbass. He does have to give him credit for switching his words, though. And some part of Virgil doesn’t blame Roman for being so awkward. It’s a strange situation to be in. One Virgil wants to get out of. And fast. 

“I’m fine. I need to get to class,” he responds, voice tense and snippy. The bell hasn’t rung yet, but it will soon, and Mrs. Bartleman’s classroom is far away from Virgil’s locker. He slings his bag over his shoulder and leans down to grab his folder. 

Papers spill out over the ground, and Virgil realizes, too late, that he grabbed the folder on the bottom. Dropping to his knees to pick it up, he grits his teeth in frustration. A groan slips from his throat.

“What are you doing?” he snaps at Roman, who’d bent down to help. 

“Picking your things up,” Roman replies, looking at Virgil, seeming puzzled. Refusing to look at him, Virgil reaches out to grab more paper. He is sorry for being so rude to Roman just now, but his annoyance at Roman constantly trying to be the knight in shining armor combined with his embarrassment at what happened earlier doesn’t help his temper.

“The bell is going to ring soon. You’re going to be late for class.”

Roman must realize that Virgil’s trying to get him to leave because he stands up, leaving his stack of papers on the ground.

“Right. I should be going.” There’s something almost like hurt in Roman’s voice. Virgil looks up on instinct. Roman’s face is crestfallen, mouth turned downward, eyes sad. Guilt pangs through Virgil’s chest yet again when he sees. He almost takes his words back, but Roman turns away before he can. The metallic sound of the bell echoes throughout the hallway. 

“Fuck,” Virgil mumbles, reaching out to finish picking up.

Once the rest of the papers are back in his folder, Virgil stands up. He stares at Roman’s back, far down the hallway, distance increasing the longer he waits. The regret and guilt swirl into a knot in his stomach. Biting his lip, he takes a chance.

“Roman!” he yells, jogging down the hall. Roman turns around, and Virgil stops, even though there’s still a few feet between them. “Why did you stand up for me?” He steels himself for the worst. What if he blows you off? What if he says that he only did it to draw more attention to you? He takes the small amount of anger he still has left and directs it at the doubt. The thoughts, thankfully, shut up.

Roman scratches the back of his head and says, “It’s kind of a long story…” He looks up at a clock on the wall, frowning. After a second, his face lights up. “You have A lunch, right?” Virgil nods. “I’ll tell you then. My class is switching so we don’t have to go to lunch right in the middle of our test.” 

“O-okay,” Virgil stutters out, still wondering if he’s going to regret this. He’s still unsure if Roman actually means well, or if it’s just a long ploy that will end in Virgil being hurt. But I suppose it doesn’t hurt to ask why he stood up for me. 

And the crooked smile Roman gives Virgil right before turning and jogging away to class makes the risk almost worth it.

[miraculousmarifan]

Felinette Month 2020 - Day 13: Haunted House Hunting

Another late night @felinettenovember prompt. I’m almost on the correct day though!

Around 1200 words

No miraculous but some supernatural things are afoot and Marinette is great about it

Felix had always seen things that nobody else could. When he was young, he would point them out to his mother and she would laugh about his imaginary friends. When they were terrifying to the young boy, she assured him that it was only an active imagination, not anything real.

It didn't take more than a few years in school to learn that he was the only one seeing them. Once he had described a thing he had seen in an outdoor stairwell near the school they attended to a boy he was friends with. The boy cried, claimed it wasn't real, and was assured by angry adults that Felix was just trying to scare him. Felix got an angry lecture about bullying the other kids and moved to the receiving end of the other children's ire. He didn't tell people about what he saw anymore, branded the things in his mind.

Some of the things looked like people, others like beasts, and the remaining were somewhere in between. Unfortunately the ones that looked like people were hard to identify as "not real" people and that left Felix with few choices on how to appear normal. He ignored the voices talking to him, avoided looking at anything or anyone without an icy glare, and closed himself off. He waited until others that he knew were alive spoke to someone before accepting that they were real. He begged his mother to homeschool him, so he would always know that it was a real person. He was told that he would grow out of his imagination some day.

He began to draw the things he saw, in hopes that it would help him keep track. The times he drew girls in his school that he hadn't met yet resulted in the boys mocking his many crushes. He labeled those drawings and hid them away for more studying. His studying also involved investigating different mythologies so he might recognize some of the things as they appeared. He had identified the hell hound equivalents of multiple different belief systems. He found that almost intriguing.

Moving to a new school early in high school reset his work. A new place, with mostly new things, and entirely new real people. He would need to avoid speaking to anyone until he figured out who was real and who was not. Thankfully his mother had escorted him to meet the principal of his new school, the principal to his homeroom teacher, and the teacher to their class representative. And the class representative did her best to make him feel welcome.

Marinette took it upon herself to introduce him to each member of the class, then encouraged him to eat with her. He stayed quiet more than before the move, focusing on ignoring the things that had come from the Paris catacombs. He tried to focus on the bright side, at least he could start drawing his study cards that night because of Marinette’s help. On the way to and during lunch, she introduced him to a handful more people and Felix mumbled to her that he wasn’t going to remember this many at once. She laughed and told him to stick with her and she’d make sure he always could figure them out. When he took to a more isolated spot to begin drawing as many of his schoolmates’ faces as possible with the remainder of lunch, Marinette happened to notice his artistic skill.

She decided the best way to help him make more friends would probably be to introduce him to various members of the art club and see if he was interested in joining. She casually mentioned her involvement with the club and invited him to stick around to hang out with her after school. He initially declined, stating that he still had a lot of unpacking left. She expressed her disappointment but let him know it’s a standing invitation. He took her up on it after a few days.

Felix found that Marinette knew everyone in the school and was on good terms with most. It gave him the opportunity to draw each and every face and determine which were the things. He also learned that by shadowing her, he didn’t need to worry about speaking up most of the time. As time passed, he became a fixture in the art room after school, sketching near the window while Marinette worked on projects. It was the first time he had been fully comfortable around others. 

This Friday afternoon was no different than usual, with Felix and Marinette working in the art room after school. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder blade.

“What’s up, M?” Felix asked her, without looking up.

“What was that, Felix?” she looked over, putting down her sketchpad.

“What did you need?” he asked again, before looking up, where he felt the hand. The girl standing behind him was not Marinette. “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you were Marinette. Did you need something from me?”

“Who are you talking to Felix?” Marinette spoke up, studying the space he was looking at. “Are you okay?”

Felix glanced at Marinette, then back at where the girl had just been standing. Oh… a thing… How do I explain this to Marinette without sounding crazy? He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it for a moment before starting again.

“Do you want to come visit my house today? I have something to show you that might help explain this…” his voice shook a little, fear creeping in. He knew he needed to get out of here if he was going to calm down.

“Yeah. Let me text my parents quick to make sure they don’t need me back right away,” she replied, concern evident from the way her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pressed together.

The two had made it to his house shortly after and, with a short introduction to his mother, he led her to his room. There he pulled out the folders from each separate school and separated the sketches into the two respective files. He then pulled out the notes and printed images from his mythological research.

“You know that I’ve drawn many of the people at school right?--” a quick affirmative nod from Marinette and Felix continued, “-- I do that for a very specific reason. I see certain things that most others don’t see. For example, I’ve seen things like this one for quite a while.” He handed her a beastly drawing from the thing pile, then held up one that appeared human and one that was somewhere in between. “Or like these. I can’t really distinguish the human looking ones from other people, real people, so I make notes to remember who I can and can’t talk to…”

Marinette had never seen him look so scared. She also couldn’t imagine Felix pulling a stunt like this, especially with the amount of time that would have gone into making and researching everything in the files. She had two options that made sense: he was crazy or he was right. After meeting his desperate eyes for a moment, she glanced down and gestured at the piles, murmuring a request for permission to examine his work closer. She noticed the classifications on each picture, names on most of the real ones and the mythological names to reference on some of the beastly drawings. A few minutes passed in tense silence before Marinette set down the last drawing back in its pile and made her decision.

“Does this mean you’re the perfect weapon for finding the best haunted houses to explore?” She smiled warmly at him, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Felix was speechless.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Oct 28th, Wednesday 16:51

Robbe was off in a heartbeat, once he saw a familiar boy waiting for him by the entrance onto the school grounds. Without any regard he leaped forward and was immidiately welcomed into a big hug, picked up off the path and put down only when he had kissed his boyfriend. 

„And that is Sander.“ Moyo said as a matter of fact. And in addition. „Wendsday is Sanderday.“

Lucas who was with them, as they all had just finished economics class together, looked over confused. „Sanderday?“

„Wendsday is the only day of the week that he has off earlier than us. So he can come pick him up. Sander is of course his boyfriend there, who had just dropped his precious art folder and everything else in order to catch Robbe in time.“

Jens could only nod in agreement to Moyo’s thorough explanation.

„Hence, Sanderday.“ Aaron concured. „Trust me, they will leave us behind somewhere between now and the next hour, and never been heard of again until tomorrow.“

„U-huh.“ Was all that Lucas provided as they catched up with the couple.
„What’s up, boys?“ Sander greeted cheerfullfy, hugging each of the broerrs, before extanding his hand towards the newling to their group. „And you must be Lucas. Robbe, and basically everyone else, had already told me about you. Glad to be able to actually see you in person as well.“

„Great to meet you too.I hope there were only good things so far?“

„Absolutely.“ Sander proclaimed and picked up his things from the ground. „Ready to go? I actually had planned to sketch a bit by the park, if you want to come as well.“

A simultaneous shrug followed by affirmative mumbles, that made them all head towards the left, straight down the street. It was a ten minute walk tops, though they stopped for some drinks on the way. Long enough, that the sun even peaked through the clouds once they arrived.

„Lucas, can I post this on my insta? If you don’t mind, of course.“ That was Sander asking a little later, just as they had found a nice sunny spot in the park to occupy a bench. He pushed the display of his camera towards said boy’s face. Jens wasn’t sure when Sander had taken it out of his bag, but that wasn’t really what he wanted to know. Lucas seemed a bit taken a back, looking at it, as he did a double take and watched Sanders smiling face. He did sound a bit unsure of himself but replied: „Sure, I guess.“

Now everyone’s curiousity demanded a look as well. And after Moyo had sommented on it with a whistle on his lips, it finally was Jens’s turn. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing at the moment, but his jumping, beating heart, assured him he was alive. Though on second thought, maybe this was dying.

He tried not to give  away, how beautiful he thought it was. Or to be more presice, the boy in it. Sander took amazing photos, that wasn’t a secret, but he captured Lucas just in such a way that Jens’s throat dired up.

Aaron took the camera off his hands, leaving him with words of protest on his lips. But luckily his brain was smarter and decided to stay quiet. 

„Eh Lucas?“ Sander tapped the dutch boy on the shoulder: „If you’d be interested too. My photography course is doing editorials next month and I’d love for you to model for me. I already have the perfect idea! Trust me, it is gonna be great. Nothing too big. Maybe three, four photos? Black-White. Classy. Clean fashion editorial. We can get a designer on board and have Robbe do lights. What do you say?“

The broerrs looked at each other amused and than to Lucas who had absolutely no clue what to do. He also never had met Sander and his seemingly spontaneous grand plans before. He certainly was the type to go big or go home. Before Lucas had any chance to answer though, Robbe’s voice broke the silence.

„Here I thought I was your only muse. But now a new pretty boy comes along and where does that leave me?“ He pouted at his boyfriend, who’s grin immidiately vanished of his face, replaced by an expression of horror that Robbe would even entertain a thought like this.

„You are, and will always be my biggest muse in every universe! Always and for ever! Unconditionaly. I’d carry you on my hands each day, and would canonise the ground you are walking on. Gift you every moon, and star, and sun I’d be able to reach. The whole sky and beyond. You are the one thing I truly love more than aynthing in this world, myself included. You are...“

„Oh shut up and kiss me! Then you can go back fanboying over Lucas again.“ Robbe smirked, blushing in the brightest colours imaginable by Sander’s devout decleration of love.

„I most definitely will kiss you!“ Sander exclaimed and took a very broad and swift step towards him, his hands immidiately finding just the perfect hight on Robbe’s hips to pull him excrushingly close.

Jens felt like an intruder seeing something he shouldn’t. It felt very inapprobiate to watch, as Sander leaned in to an open-mouth kiss. Lips and teeth and tounge. Robbe reciprocated like it was air to breath, let himself fall into it, his wrists crossed behind the neck of Sander, as they devoured each other. Jens knew he never had kissed nor had ever been kissed by anyone like this. He really should look away, but just like the other boys he couldn’t quite draw his gaze from them. 

He swore they had completely forgotten about Lucas, Moyo, Aaron and himself, as Robbe and Sander ended their kiss with a heavy gasp, staring into each other eyes as they pressed their forheads together.

These lucky bastards were together for almost a year and still it seemed they had just found each other anew.

Jens loudly cleared his throat, while Moyo couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer and Aaron slowly clapped, deeply impressed. Checking up on Lucas though, Jens found the dutch boy looking absolutely overwhelmed by this public display of affection. Or maybe because it was between two boys? Jens really hoped that that wasn’t the case. And it didn’t appear that Lucas had been disconcerted before when Robbe had pecked a kiss to Sander’s lips infront of the school. But that didn’t really had to mean anything, right? Jens just prayed he was wrong about the way Lucas seemed to be a bit uncomfortable at the moment.

„Seriously, I almost want to be kissed by Sander now.“ Moyo joked, patting Robbe’s back, who seemed to suddelny realise where they were.

„That could be arranged, I believe.“ Sander provided with a wink, greatly amused by Moyo’s wide eyes of total shock to the suggestion.

„Oh shit, sorry!“ Robbe said apologetic at the same time.

„All good.“ Jens let his best friend know, searching for Lucas’s eyes. „Right?“

The dutch boy suddenly looked up and over towards him, nodding strongly.

„Of course. I just...eh....it came...unexpected.“ Lucas settled on and tried a reassuring smile. „Are you always like that?“

„Like what?“ Robbe inquiered, perhaps a bit defensive. He hated when people assumed anything remotely negative when speaking about Sander, and or their relationship in general.

„So open about it? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve seen that before. My circle was very straight in Utrecht. But really, I didn’t mean to imply anything else by it. Honestly. Full support on my end here.“

„We are just us.“ Sander provided simply to ease the tension, while he turned back towards Lucas with a warm expression. He never let go of his boyfriend though, tucking him nicely to his side, with his arm slung around the other boy’s back for support, his hand resting on Robbe’s waist.

Lucas’s smile grew brighter, nodding reassured that this had turned out alright.

Jens released the breath he didn’t knew he had held. But it felt like some weight was lifted by Lucas not being against their relationship. Why he had been so effected though, Jens didn’t know. He assumed it just had to do with the happiniess of his best friend, that he wanted to protect. 

„Trust me, they can get even worse than this. At least on two seperate occasions I had to slip out of Robbe’s room. They only have eyes for each other from one moment to the next. It’s incredible. And hands! God do they have too many hands.“ Jens told Lucas, exaggerating his annoyance over them, by rolling his eyes in a big motion. It earned him a smack by Robbe and Sander’s laughter.

„Bro! I swear to god, it happened to me too once. We were playing CoD and sat on the sofa together, until they started. I spend the next hour in the kitchen with my headphones on, not even wanting to try to get to the bathroom.“ Moyo declared and now everyone was laughing. Til Robbe decided it was enough and waved them all off.

„Okay, okay, I think everyone got the point. Can we go back now to appreciating Lucas’s beauty and how he should model for my stupid boyfriend here?“ Teased Robbe, patting Sander’s chest. Who was back on track of his mission the next second, leaving his boyfriend’s side to take his camera back from Aaron and settle into the dutch boy’s immidiate vicinity effortlessly. Jens sometimes really found himself jealous by how easy it seemed to be for Sander to do.

„So what’s your insta? I can message you everything about my idea later.“

[factual-fantasy]

Some more asks, :} lots of OCs down below if you are interested.

I now am actually sitting on top of, but still attached to the puddle. :} I would draw what I mean, but I am much too tired..

NO NO THAT WONT BE NECESSARY-

Hmm.. I cant remember. I mostly read ones that are either just cute or bitter sweet. I cant remember clearly the ones that just hurt and were sad.

However, if you’re curious.. the bitter/sweet one I read recently was a two part series written by @parsnipit. Here’s part one and two if you want to read it. :} Its a Gravity Falls fic. It is very good and had me glued the whole time!

𝒜     𝒽 𝓊 𝓃 𝒸 𝒽 𝒷 𝒶 𝒸 𝓀?

Well, how about I show you ALL of the characters in that particular folder and tell the story of the character if they have one? :} Which honestly, there aren’t tat many characters.

I know my followers know to not repost my art.. but just in case, I went back and added my watermark.

I don’t remember this character and I forgot what language his name is in.. I think he’s a scavenger of sorts though?

I believe I just wanted to make some interesting monster OCs. So I did. Not sure what their story was if I ever made one for them.

I believe I just wanted to make a strange character.. so I did?

I don’t remember this one.. I think I drew this ugly monster with this little girl a long time ago, and translated it into this several years later.

I believe these are Pokémon OCs?

I uh.. don’t remember.

Now THIS one I remember. There was supposed to be this little orphan girl that could communicate with spirits and possessed toys. Her teddy bear, Charles was the first one she spoke to, and the Barbie doll and mitch match clown puppet came around later. These three were her main toys. She was even supposed to ride around in this possessed engineless truck with all the toys in the truck bed. Her goal was to bring the toys peace somehow, but her story never really developed past that.

...She’s Crystal..? I think I just drew her for the sake of drawing her..?

I cant remember Amy’s story very clearly, but I know the gist of it. She was supposed to either be this ancient spirit of the woods that was reawakened.. or she was some kind of ancient forest villager from a long lost village that was brought back to life. Anyway, these two kids found her somehow and.. they had to get her somewhere? Like, she was on a mission, but didn’t know it, but these kids did? They were trying to help her do something I think? Sorry uh, my memory blanks out after that. (-｡-;

I wanted to make a jellyfish mermaid. So I did. :}

I believe this character maaay have been connected to a HUGE and elaborate story that I built a long time ago, but maybe I’m confusing her as an addition to the jello cats. I think she’s supposed to be an alien of sorts.

I.... cant quite remember.. I think this might’ve been like a master and student situation? I believe Zyrus was some kind of creature that has to travel back to this well or something every few years to regenerate himself or something.. and their story was about their journey back to the well..? <:D I’m not sure??

I wanted to test out a new coloring style, so I made her on the fly as a test subject.

This character is named Joyful. He is a figurine that I got from a bowling alley/arcade? I think after getting him, I turned to my friend and went, “What if I drew this guy? Like, as an actual character?” And then I did.

So, Lord Kryton and Xerneas. I drew a picture when I was very little, of a lizard dude holding a little girl hostage. Behind him was this big dragon dude thing. Then there were the parents on the other side of the drawing with.. I think a snake guy..? I cant remember the drawing very well. But basically the parents were upset and the snake guy was like, “GIV HER BAK NOE” and the little lizard was like “NEVR! MONSTR ATAC!!” And that was the drawing. I took the girl, the little lizard dude and the big bad monster and drew them all together. :} 

I.. cannot remember. 😔

These characters stories changed many many times. But the one I remember the most is them being a boys interpretation of his family. I cant remember much..  but I think there was this boy who made masks to represent the family he lost? Dad, Brother and Mom I believe. I think the masks were either possessed by his family, or they gained imaginary or real sentience. His dad was very funny and dressed very nice. So his mask formed a body that was wearing a fancy outfit that also looked slightly silly. His brother was very ill for most of the time the boy knew him. His face was covered, he always wore a hat and was hooked up to wires all the time. Maybe cancer? I think his brothers mask was purposely thrown to the ground by his caretaker, which shattered it. He found a way to glue it back together. The mask person gained stiches on his face because of it. He is covered in bandages, casts and coverings, but he’s still a sweetheart, just like his brother. Then there’s the pretty one. His mom was very beautiful and always dressed nice and wore pretty jewelry. So he got beads, necklaces and fake jewels and covered the mask with it. The result was the slender woman on the right. I believe they were good beings. They would be talking and laughing with the kid, but as soon as the guardian walked in his new family would vanish, and the masks would mysteriously be on the floor. I don’t remember what the rest of the story was.. but I believe they were the good guys, like the kids new family.

I wanted to make a fairy butler, so I did. :}

Barbra Dollson, AKA Barb, was a woman who was investigating the phenomenon that is human sized, anthropomorphic, sentient toys. During her investigation, she gained a better understanding of who they are and how they think. Sometime during her investigation as well, she came to the earth shattering realization that she herself is indeed a toy too. She is the same species as the creatures she is studying. Her name is not Barbra Dollson, it is Barbie Doll.

I wanted to draw a tiny woman with a HUMUNGOUS dog, so I did. Meet Riley and Bernie. :}

These two were supposed to be two specially trained scientists investigating an alien planet, or a part of a planet that they have not investigated yet.. or something. I have forgotten the rest of their story, if they had any at all..

I wanted to draw sock puppets... so.. I did.

Might’ve been a Bendy OC at one point, I cant remember.

I think I just wanted to draw something interesting/pretty with these two. Now that I look at it, they remind me of Miracle and Slasher. :}

“Two unamed ocs.png“ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I tried to make an animation with the one eyed guy though, I know that.

[cherwd-pen]

double shot black coffee

✐ stamp: 1449 words

▸ cherry wood cafe order: double shot black coffee

▸ size: large

▸ customer: gn!reader

▸ a/n: can you tell im an aizawa stan? no? well i am

“I’ll take a black coffee, double shot.” you decided following the lady inside. Uppity jazz played from speakers all around. Not loud enough to be obnoxious but loud enough to be heard when it was silent, it only added to the peculiar atmosphere. 

The wooded floors were a beautiful ash wood and the walls were exposed brick that you doubted were actually part of the original building plan. So, you asked. “This looks nothing like a normal Japanese coffee shop.”

The lady leads you to a booth fit snug in along the left wall. It gave a beautiful view of the open floor plans where a long line stretched halfway to the door. You were shocked at how popular the place was actually, mostly among the younger generation and foreigners from what you could tell. You took a seat, sinking into the plush black leather seat and set your backpack down. It was worth trying to work on your newest art commission here.

Unknowns to you, the lady had caught on to the skeptic you had for her place. She brushed a strand of sandy brown hair out her face, “This is my own creation; did it with my inheritance and running it with a few friends. We took the liberty to add some excitement to Japan and make it a safe space for everyone.” she smiled. “You can request a song, too.”

“No, I need to finish this for work and I’ll be out your way.”

The lady nodded, “I’m Cherry so just shout if you need anything.” Cherry bid you a goodbye before yelling at someone behind the register. The boy flinched and seemed to coward away from the short female who looked ready to jump on him. Your eye twitched. “She’s insane.” you muttered, fishing out your drawing tablet and stylist. Propping the sleek sticker-obsessed device up, you pulled up your public appropriate folder and the newest commission: a comic book that would go for a good forty dollars, maybe even fifty given the size of it. You’ve been working on it for a week and today was the last day before finalizing it then printing copies.

Settling in you quickly popped a few joints then started to work on the last panel page. All you had left was outlining and base colors, maybe starting on details but nothing too big. Again, it was the last working day and tomorrow was fit for last minute details.

For what felt like hours you erased and redrew the fine lines of the customers character. You got a lot done in what really was twenty minutes. Somewhere around five in, Cherry had brought you your coffee and you in turn asked for the house specialty pastries: homemade cheese danishes. By then you finished other panels and when she brought the sweet treats it was ten minutes in and you had just this final character. A soft grunt fluttered out when, yet again, you got a hair line wrong. Wordlessly, you dropped the stylus only to grab at the cooling drink to the left. You brought it to your lips and almost groaned at its smell. It was rich and strong - possibly Ethiopian - and that just made your mouth water. So, you took a sip and instantly reached for the danish, taking a bite. You never thought homemade food could taste so good but today was an experience.

But while you were lost in the food and coffee, you missed how the stylus rolled off the table. You didn’t notice until pale hands caught your attention. Your eyes flickered up and you almost choked. Dark, sleepy eyes glanced down at you and you almost dropped the mug. Now, you aren’t one to find people attractive by just seeing them but, damn.

“You dropped this.” he voiced. The sound rose from his chest and rolled from his tongue with ease. His hand was outstretched, your styles held loosely between two fingers. Gingerly you set the coffee down, taking the pen back slowly. The man quirked an eyebrow. “You’re an artist.”

“I am. Self-employed,” you stammered out. The dark-haired man nodded, the hint of a smile gracing his face and making the stubble just a tad more attractive. You didn’t know what came over you but tearing away from his eyes you caught sight of a satchel. So, you did the least you thing: “Would you like to take a seat? It’s getting crowded and you might not have a seat if you wait for Cherry or someone-”

He slid into the seat cross from you, setting the bag beside him and taking a few papers out. He stuck a pen behind his ear, voice dragging along. “My friend will be here and he’s obnoxious.”

“That’s fine! I’m sure he’s alright-” you cut yourself off, cheeks warming at the realization you didn’t even know his name. Anxiously, you asked and he sighed. Clicking the pen, he went to work scribbling on the papers.

“Aizawa. Shouta Aizawa, and your coffee is strong. I’d take one of those.”

For some reason, your heart skipped, rendering you silent for a few seconds. Then, you told him your name and -

“Cherry! Can I get another double shot black?