#HOW DO YOU CREATE ABSTRACT ART

[altoidarts]

[clumsypuppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[stiffyck]

Artists on Instagram and tiktok and most other sites are the strongest people on earth because the comments are always fied with so many stupid people. I'd be murdering them if that was on my posts.

People have no idea what the fuck art is.

[daisydisciple]

There's nuance to this but I think it's important to always remember that Jesus is a real guy and not like. a character

[david-watts]

I love adding my leftover paint into my sketchbook it's so much fun and it adds texture which I find I like considering how differently I feel like I have been approaching art recently. and also it helps if I want to add markers to something because it hides the bleed-through, although I don't use my markers as much because of the aforementioned change in approach. however the problem is if I'm just going to glob paint down I need to do so when I don't intend on using the sketchbook because I just shot myself in the foot and I have to wait for it to dry

[ara-the-great]

Sylus might be the most supportive man you have ever seen in your life. No matter how largely you mess up, he is there for you. This is true for making both gifts and problems for him.

You made a cat's eye bracelet that looks like a wildly tangled string of rope? It's sturdy and he already has it on as soon as he heard you made it (you couldn't take it off him even if you tried). That candy you made that got a bit too...cooked?(It was burnt actually) He snacks on it like it's the most delicious thing (aside from you that is). He says he prefers it a bit bitter and that it has a complex flavour profile. Makes you kind of think how far you can push it before he says something.

Soup with an ungodly amount of salt? He needed his electrolytes in. Oddly shaped pottery you made? It's an abstract piece of art. Half baked cake? He was craving something fudgey.

Just as you were about to make the most sour salad known to man he comes up from behind you to wrap his arms around your waist.

"You seem busy. What is my little kitten making?"

"Salad. Found a new recipe for a lemon pickle salad with kimchi. Try it!" you beamed pushing the face crinkling "salad". The mere smell of it alone was making your eyes watery

Taking a tiny bit was enough to make him flinch back. "That's........ Interesting. Chough- it's got quite the kick to it." He coughed trying his best not to twist his face into oblivion. "You have been making so many things for me how about I do something for you? I haven't made a dish in a while-"

"BAHAHHAHA IM SORRY BUT WHY ARE YOU SO NICE THATS THE MOST RANCID AND HORRIBLE THING I HAVE EVER MADE!" you said almost falling out of his hold while laughing.

"Oh I see what's going on here. Is that why Mephisto caught you dumping the whole salt shaker into the soup?" He chuckled as he flicked your forehead

"Oh god you knew? Why didn't you say something?" You said still giggling

"Sweetie I genuinely appreciate everything you do for me. After all it is you." he laughed nuzzling his head into your neck. He pulled you away from that monstrosity you had created and spun you in his arms till you were looking right at him. "Even if you fed me poison id say it's the most delicious poison I have had but just for the time being I think you should leave the kitchen to me"

[chow0w]

Hi, I love you’re redesigns so much, and I am wondering if my favorite character (Waspy) is on the character waitlist or if you have already redesigned her?

Thank you!! I actually tried to do her a few times before, but it was kind of a struggle since I want her to be super devious but never knew how - until today. @kingfisher298 and @nickyblurrymind33 also wanted to see, so I am proud to finally announce my redesign of Queen Wasp! I apologize in advance.

Edit: (putting this up here so nobody misses it, but I was informed this morning that the person who’s request I replied to is actually an extremely problematic individual. I didn’t know this at the time and would’ve blocked/used someone else’s request if I did, and I deeply apologize for this mistake.)

Getting the obvious out of the way, yes, she is creepy. Very creepy. When making this redesign, illustrating Queen Wasp in the scariest way possible was the main thing on my mind. I wanted to create a design which would accurately reflect (and justify) every thought Blue has ever had in regards to Wasp, as well as truly vilifying her even down to the first impression. She is described as incredibly tall and lanky: and as much as I tried to make this visible through her build, I did end up shortening her neck + making her head bigger to give her a more passively intimidating vibe. I think it would be way creepier if she was so large that she could still tower over other dragons even with the posture I drew her with. I imagine the bottom of her mouth is about how tall an average dragon is.

I took a lot of inspiration from the ichneumonid wasp, a parasitic insect which A) looks disturbing, and B) lays its eggs in caterpillars. Not only is that horrifying in itself - I also thought it fit Wasp very well, given that she injects hivewing eggs with the breath of evil to gain control over them. Her ribcage and bones are well-defined through her patterns, since I had her plant-only diet in mind when creating this and imagined she would be rather malnourished. Outside of the oodles of spikes I added to her limbs and spine, I also decided on giving her three stingers instead of one - because one isn't enough for someone as evil as her. (I also thought that the single stinger looked really stupid while I drew this.) You may have noticed the breath of evil along her stinger! Whilst I did originally plan on making this a consistent feature in her design, I waited until the end to add it and by that time it just clashed really hard with the other details in place.

I'm a fan of how Queen Wasp was presented as a villain, and I really wish she stayed the main antagonist through the entirety of arc 3. I was really hoping to get more story on social justice for silkwings + a chrysalis-focused rebellion type thing, but I'm not entirely unhappy with the ending since at least we got to meet Freedom. Either way, this redesign is definitely one of the more abstract, but I'm personally pretty happy with how it turned out!

As always, thank you all so much for your constant support! It's super cool how quickly this community has grown, and I'm so thankful to all of you for tuning in every weekend to see what I made! To anyone who'd like to join, here's the link to my server! We have tons of art-related stuff, as well as an active contest with cash prizes (You also have the option to get a free commission instead, but let's be so forreal. You probably want money. I respect that.)

If you want to submit a request for redesign, check out my pinned post to see which WoF characters are already on the waitlist - or head straight to my inbox and ask!

later (─‿‿─)♡

[readreidsworld]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes isn’t a weapon anymore. He’s warmth, safety, and soft mornings

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bucky Barnes had a reputation. The world saw him as the stoic soldier, the once Winter Soldier, the silent shadow of Captain America. But you knew better.

To you, Bucky was a human furnace, a walking blanket, and most importantly yours.

You woke up to the smell of coffee and the soft rustle of someone trying very hard not to make noise. When you peeked open one eye, there he was Bucky, shirtless, messy haired, and holding a tray with two mugs and a small plate of pancakes shaped vaguely like hearts.

“Happy Tuesday,” he said, beaming like it was Christmas.

You blinked. “It’s Tuesday?”

“It is. And I’m declaring it ‘Stay in Bed with You All Day’ Day.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a thing now?”

He placed the tray on the nightstand and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing. “It’s official. No missions, no calls, just this.” He pressed his nose into your hair. “Just us.”

You giggled when his scruff tickled your neck. “Did you make pancakes?”

“Heart shaped ones,” he said proudly, holding one up. “Don’t ask me how. I think I accidentally created pancake abstract art.”

You laughed, taking a bite out of it. “Masterpiece.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled. “I’m keeping that in writing.”

You curled into him, burying your face in the soft space between his neck and shoulder. His vibranium arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and his flesh hand lazily traced circles on your thigh.

“I love it when you’re soft,” you mumbled.

“I’m always soft with you,” he said, his voice husky but gentle. “You make it easy.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. His heartbeat was a steady rhythm against your ear, grounding and familiar. You could stay there forever—wrapped in the warmth of flannel sheets and love.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know. And I love you more.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is this a competition now?”

He smirked. “Everything’s a competition with me.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned up and kissed him anyway slow, sweet, and full of the kind of peace he thought he’d never deserve.

But you made him believe otherwise.

Later that morning, after pancakes and a shared nap that turned into both of you wrapped around each other like lazy cats in a sunbeam, Bucky insisted on brushing your hair.

Yes brushing your hair.

You sat cross legged on the bed while he gently tugged the brush through your strands, his flesh fingers occasionally twirling a lock like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” you said, trying not to melt into a puddle at the feeling of him so lovingly focused on something so mundane.

“I know,” he replied, calm and soft, “but I want to. Your hair’s soft. And brushing it makes you purr.” “I do not purr!”

“You totally do,” he said, grinning behind you. “You go all sleepy and gooey like a kitten.”

Before you could argue, he kissed the back of your neck, just once. And just like that, all snark melted.

Later, he followed you into the kitchen while you hunted for snacks. You were still in his hoodie three sizes too big, sleeves hanging over your hands. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, watching you with literal heart eyes.

“What?” you asked, catching him staring.

He shrugged, looking all too proud of himself. “Just admiring my favorite view.”

“Which is?”

“You. In my clothes. In our kitchen. Looking like you belong here.”

You turned around and chucked a marshmallow at him, blushing furiously. He caught it mid-air with that stupid supersoldier reflex and popped it in his mouth.

Bucky grinned. “Delicious. So are you.”

“Bucky!”

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of silly little things that felt like magic building a pillow fort in the living room (because “Captain America doesn’t let me have any fun, doll”), Bucky braiding flowers into your hair (and taking like fifteen pictures of it), and the two of you slow dancing barefoot in the kitchen to old love songs on the radio.

That night, wrapped in a blanket burrito on the couch, your head on Bucky’s chest and his arms snug around you, he whispered:

“You’re my safe place.”

You looked up at him, eyes full of all the love he never thought he’d find.

“You’re mine too.”

He kissed you slow. Sweet. Safe.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, Bucky whispered against your hair, “I hope we get a thousand more days just like this.”

The room was dark now, lit only by the faint golden glow of a salt lamp on the nightstand. The bed was a sea of tangled sheets and tired limbs, and Bucky had you tucked against him like you were the most precious thing in the world.

His hand rested low on your back, slowly tracing shapes that made your eyelids heavy and your heart impossibly full.

“You awake?” you whispered, not even sure why he was breathing evenly, but not quite asleep.

“Mhm,” came the soft rumble of his voice. “Just don’t wanna move. You’re warm.”

You smiled, cheek pressed to his chest. “You always say that.”

“It’s always true,” he murmured.

You were quiet for a while, just listening to his heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Safe.

“Bucky?” you said again, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What’s your favorite thing about falling asleep with me?”

He paused. Not because he didn’t know but because he had too many answers.

Finally, he said, “Everything slows down. The world stops spinning so fast. And for once… I’m not thinking about the past, or tomorrow, or anything that hurts.”

You turned your face into his neck, and he tightened his arms around you, like he could shield you both from the world with just his embrace.

“I like your heartbeat,” you murmured. “It’s like… the safest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He kissed the top of your head, lingering. “It beats for you now. Every day.”

Your throat tightened with that familiar swell of love that only Bucky could draw out of you.

“Are we gonna be like this forever?” you asked, sleep blurring your words.

“Forever and a day,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“And after that?”

He smiled into your hair. “After that, I’ll still find you. In every life. In every universe.”

You didn’t respond sleep was already pulling you under but your fingers curled into his shirt like a promise.

Bucky stayed awake a little longer, just to memorize the feeling of you breathing against him, the weight of your love, the peace he never thought he’d deserve.

And right before he drifted off too, he whispered into the dark:

“I’ll love you in every tomorrow we get.”

[fernsnailz]

my comic from the @neverturnbackzine! truly one of my favorite zines i've been a part of :]

some extra insight/fun facts about the process of this piece below the cut 💥💥💥

posting pieces from collaborative zines is always something i struggle with because i look back and think of how i would do things differently now, but i learned a lot working on this comic and even developed some style techniques that i still use!

Fun Fact 1: the panel where shadow Fucking Disintegrates That Guy is technically traditionally drawn! i couldn't get it right in clip studio so i just started frantically scribbling in a notebook and got it eventually lol

highly highly recommend scribbling stuff out in a notebook, scanning it on your phone, and then dropping it into a canvas to edit later if you ever have trouble sketching something.

Fun Fact 2: a lot of the overlay/background effects were made in Kid Pix Deluxe 3D. i created a whole collection of various textures/abstract effects for this comic that i've been using in my art since last year. you can even find them scattered through my team dark zine lol. here's a few of them:

similarly, the background at the bottom of page 2 is actually a warped photo i took of a bunch of headphone wires. this is the original:

Fun Fact 3: i made this comic during a very busy and wild period of time last year so this is what the final panel looked like for a while before i fully finished it LMAO

ok yay thanks for reading bye

[whoistartaglia]

crafting with genshin mem

you can’t tell me neuvillette wouldn’t crochet with you. neuvillette would be all into it, buying you all the yarn and hooks and needles you need. and he’s unsurprisingly good at it; someone that graceful is daft at handling the crochet needle with grace and ease. if you thought you were going to be the one teaching him the basics, you’re unfortunately wrong. though, neuvilette will be fascinated if you teach him new techniques or show him new patterns and projects. crochet nights with neuvillette are relaxing, with both of you working on your own projects, together. do expect him to crochet you a lot of sweaters, scarfs, and hats; even if you protest you don’t even live in a cold climate, he won’t hear a word of it.

zhongli would knit with you. yes, there is a difference between that and crochet. you’ll be working on your own project, and zhongli will immediately be captivated. you don’t even consider yourself terribly talented at knitting, but zhongli’s watching you like you invented the craft yourself. eventually, he’ll ask you to teach him, and it’s cute. zhongli is an attentive student; he’ll listen you carefully and ask intelligent questions as they arise. his projects are questionable at first; you’ll have to reassure him every beginner starts out with random scraps and knots. his face scrunched up in concentration makes you want to laugh during his lessons, but you refrain in case he suspects you’re laughing at the “scarf” he’s trying to create.

you tell childe that you heard making abstract art is a good stress reliever, and you not-so subtly add that he should try it. and because he adores you, childe will almost immediately agree. you expected him to give it his best attempt and maybe get a new painting for your living room; what you didn’t expect was how aggressive the paintings looked. the first one was a collection of reds and oranges, jagged lines and dark streaks; the second was similar, and the third one yet again. you figure childe just as a lot of pent up stress, and hey, isn’t this better than him going out and doing hid who-knows-what with his who-knows-who fatui colleages? this is what you tell yourself as childe proclaims he’s made another painting, as if you don’t already have one for your living room… and every other room in your house.

kaeya would want to paint you. specifically, he would want to use oil paint to really “capture your likeliness on the canvas,” in his own words. kaeya will frown if you laugh at that bold declaration, but he’s persistent and you relent. but on one condition: you get to draw him as well. kaeya agrees, charmed you’d want to do such a thing. so you purchase the paints and canvases and invite him over. the rule is that you can’t look at each other’s paintings until the end of the night. expect flirty eye contact as you both try to paint the other. flowery words from kaeya stating he’ll have to use a bit more red paint since you’re blushing so much. the portraits turn out pretty good for a few hours. kaeya will appreciatively tell you that his portrait looks so handsome, and frown should you tell him it looks “nothing like him.” (it doesn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

scara will blush and malfunction if you find the secret pencil drawings he’s done of you. it’s cute, you reassure him, and you’re honestly a little flattered. he’s your grumpy boyfriend going through his doodles and sketches of you, providing context (but not without grumbling a little bit) about each should you ask. some are of you when you’re not looking, others are from memory. you always asked scara to draw you and he’s always refused, so this was an endearing, touching surprise. please do tease him about this, especially given how much he refused to entertain the idea before this. even if you ask now, there’s a low chance he would specifically draw you, for you; it’s the spontaneous nature of it all that gives the drawings their charm. or, so he says.

bonus scene: if you ask scara to draw him, he will give you a disgusted look follow up by a flat-out nope, no thanks. he won’t entertain any conversation about it. not at all. but… should you “accidentally” doodle him when your mind slips or draw a rough sketch of him, scara will protest against it, then ask you to finish it, give it to him, and keep it forever.

[nenemura]

RAINY DAYS — (nrk x reader)

summary : you spend a rainy day with your boyfriend.

cw : bf!riki x fem!reader, fluff, kissing

wc : 0.7k

nene’s note : ik it sucks but this is a little tiny work while i try to finish the longer ones……. pls bear w me

you loved rainy days.

the cozy atmosphere that it created while staying inside, maybe under a warm blanket, truly gave you solace. your boyfriend’s presence right next to you, providing extra warmth, was the cherry on top.

you and riki were supposed to have a fun outdoor date, but the plan eventually fell apart when dark clouds invaded the sky, bringing with them loud thunders and heavy rain. since the weather decided for the two of you to stay in, you decided to catch up with a TV show you two wanted to watch together but always put off because of other priorities.

riki’s arm was lazily resting over your shoulder, his warmth embracing you completely. your head leaned against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, a quiet rhythm that brought you an unspoken sense of comfort. occasionally, you would feel his soft, full lips on your temple, making you smile and snuggle closer to him.

you glanced up to look at him for a moment, seeing his concentrated expression. you observed him carefully, how his long lashes adorned his pretty shaped eyes, how his small yet sharp nose complimented his face, how plump his lower lip was trapped in between his teeth because of an intense scene in the show. you had long forgotten about it, completely focusing on the boy by your side, who didn’t take long to notice he was the center of your attention.

“hm?” he hummed, tilting his head to look down at you, a small and subconscious pout forming on his lips. you couldn’t help but smile and bring one of your hands on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone softly with your thumb. riki didn’t think too much of it, used to you being touchy, and immediately leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a quick — yet soft — peck. “do you not like the show?” he asked, pressing a button on the remote to pause it. you shook your head, still admiring your boyfriend’s handsome face as if it was one of the most precious works of art in the world.

“you’re just pretty” you mumbled, thumb now delicately grazing his lower lip. a lovesick smile spread across your face as you took in his features, the soft glow of affection in your eyes. riki’s eyes widened at the sudden compliment, scoffing softly, as if trying to brush it off, but the warmth spreading through his face betrayed him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he tugged you closer by the waist. his large, cold hands slipped beneath your t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your warm skin. you could feel him drawing lazy, abstract patterns on your back, the gentle motion sending a mix of chills and comfort through you.

“you can’t say shit like that so suddenly” he whispered against your neck, his lips barely touching the skin. you let out a giggle, shaking your head at his antics as you brought a hand to his nape to play with his hair. “i just said you’re pretty, you big baby,” you replied, leaning back a little to get him to look at you. “are you blushing right now?” your eyes widened slightly as soon as you noticed how his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, the sight making you giggle once more.

he groaned and hid his face against your neck once again, leaving kisses here and there to distract you from his flustered state. “not. fair.” he muttered, his lips tracing from your neck to your jaw, finally looking into your eyes once again. “you’re killing me here, i hate you.” he kissed your lips one more time, his words saying one thing, while his eyes revealed something completely different. you shook your head and wrapped your hands around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “i love you too, idiot” you playfully whispered, your voice muffled as you buried your face in his chest.

his arms tightened around you, holding you as though you were the only thing that mattered. despite his words, the way he clung to you said anything you needed to hear.

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Domestic Chaos | Draco Malfoy ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Warnings: I guess mention of sexual activity and condoms

Summary: Fluff, Comedy | Draco navigates through muggle life with the love of his life.

Word count: 8966

author's note: I am so sorry that this request took so long. But work has been hell before the holidays. Now that I have some time off I managed to finish it. I hope you like it! @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy

The first week of living together with Draco Malfoy had been… an adjustment, to say the least.

You smiled to yourself as you wandered down the stairs of your new house, recalling the mix of chaos and charm that came in the start of sharing a home with Draco. Moving in together had been a big step, one you hadn’t expected to take so soon. But after months of navigating your relationship between your cozy Muggle world and his pristine magical one following your graduation from Hogwarts, it only made sense to create a space that was truly suited for the both of you.

Granted, the transition had been smoother for you than it had been for him.

Draco, for all his poise and pure-blood grace, had little to no experience with Muggle life. Your enchanted house—a quirky blend of his velvet armchairs and your mismatched cozy furniture—reflected that perfectly. It was a home where magical portraits coexisted with photo frames from your favorite vacations, where your television and laptop shared a shelf with his collection of ancient spell books.

It was perfect. Except for the moments where Draco had done his best to interact with Muggle appliances.

The faint sound of muffled clattering pulled you towards your kitchen, curiosity outweighing your desire to get yourself a hot mug of coffee. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you padded down the hall toward the kitchen. As you stepped through the doorway, you froze, your grogginess instantly replaced by disbelief at the sight before you.

The dishwasher, a seemingly harmless Muggle machine, stood wide open. Inside, dishes were arranged in what could only be described as abstract art. Draco stood in front of it with his wand drawn, muttering incantations under his breath. A suspiciously green, bubbling potion had been poured into the detergent slot, and—Merlin help him—a set of silver goblets that were very much not dishwasher-safe glinted proudly from the bottom rack.

“Draco.” you said carefully, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe, “what are you doing?”

He didn’t flinch, though his wand froze mid-air. “Using this infernal contraption you insisted on bringing into our home.” he replied, his tone clipped.

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. Our home. The words still gave you butterflies.

“This ‘infernal contraption’ is a dishwasher,” you corrected, stepping closer. “It cleans dishes. Without magic. That’s sort of the point.”

Draco huffed, a faint pink tinting his pale cheeks. “Well, it’s doing a poor job of it so far.”

“Probably because you’re trying to curse it into submission.” You peered into the dishwasher, your eyes widening. “Wait. Is that—oh my God, Draco, is that the antique goblet from your mother’s dining set?!”

He glanced at the goblet, then back at you, feigning innocence. “What? It needed cleaning.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s over 200 years old! You can’t just throw it in a dishwasher!”

“Well, I certainly can’t hand wash it,” he said indignantly, crossing his arms. “Do you know how much trouble the preservation charms require? It’s exhausting.”

“Then maybe don’t drink wine out of a priceless artifact?”

“Then maybe don’t serve wine in cheap glass cups,” he shot back, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “It ruins the wine taste…”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine. Touché. But seriously, what is this… potion?” You gestured to the green, bubbling mess in the detergent slot.

“It’s a universal cleaning tonic,” he said proudly. “Far superior to whatever chemical nonsense Muggles use.”

“It’s not even liquid! It’s oozing! You can’t put that in a dishwasher!”

Draco frowned, glancing back at the machine as if it had betrayed him. “So what’s the proper way, then?”

You sighed, grabbing the small box of dishwasher tablets from the counter. “Watch and learn, Pure-blood.”

With a sigh you carefully removed the bubbling mess he had poured into the detergent slot. Draco watched with a mix of curiosity and mild indignation as you wiped it clean with a paper towel.

“This,” you said, holding up one of the tablets from the box, “is what you’re supposed to use.”

Draco tilted his head, eyeing the tablet skeptically. “That tiny thing? How could that possibly clean anything?”

“It’s designed for this, Draco. It dissolves in the water and works its magic—well, not literally, but you get the idea.”

You slid the tablet into the designated compartment and snapped the dishwasher closed, pressing the buttons to set the correct cycle. “And this,” you added, pointing to the buttons, “is how you actually start it. No wand required.”

Draco’s expression was unreadable as the machine hummed to life, its rhythmic sounds filling the kitchen. After a moment, he muttered, “It still seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“Complicated? You were about to duel the dishwasher,” you teased, crossing your arms.

Draco smirked, his signature smugness returning. “And I would’ve won.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you leaned against the counter. “You’re hopeless.”

Before you could say more, you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his breath tickled your neck.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “but I’m learning, aren’t I?”

You snorted, tilting your head slightly as you felt his lips brush against the curve of your neck in a featherlight kiss. “Barely,” you teased, though your tone lacked the bite to make it convincing.

Draco chuckled, the vibration of it humming against your back. His kisses trailed lazily along the side of your neck, his hands tightening ever so slightly around your waist. Just as you began to melt into his warmth, a sharp, electronic beep shattered the moment.

Draco froze, his lips pausing mid-kiss. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” he asked, his voice tense and laced with suspicion.

You laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “That’s just the washing machine.” you explained, finding his baffled expression entirely too adorable. “It beeps when it’s done with a cycle.”

Draco frowned, glancing over at the machine as if it were an intruder. “Why does it need to announce its accomplishments? It’s not as though I announce every time I complete a task.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure about that? Because I distinctly remember you declaring victory the last time you hung up a picture frame.”

Draco scowled, though the faint pink creeping back into his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “That frame was enchanted to repel nails. It was a triumph,” he muttered defensively.

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Draco,” you said, still grinning, “the Muggle world is going to kill you at this rate.”

He grumbled, tightening his hold around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. “Life is unnecessarily complicated without magic,” he muttered, his tone dripping with indignation. “Why would anyone willingly choose this… process over a simple charm?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Maybe because some of us didn’t grow up with the luxury of a wand to fix all our problems?”

Draco pulled back slightly to look at you, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re saying you willingly endured this madness? What kind of resilience do Muggles possess that I’ve clearly been deprived of?”

“Patience!”

Draco scoffed, stepping back just enough to look at you. “Patience is for people with time to waste,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of his arms and heading toward the counter. “Come on, your Highness,” you said over your shoulder, pulling open the breadbox. “Let’s see if you’re capable of making toast without burning it.”

Draco followed you with a mock-offended expression. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of operating a toaster,” he declared, though his hesitation as he glanced at the machine suggested otherwise.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, smirking as you slid a couple of slices into the slots. “Here, I’ll start it for you. You can handle buttering them when they’re done. Think you’re up for the challenge?”

Draco leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “You’re underestimating me again, love. I’ll butter the toast so flawlessly you’ll weep.”

You snorted, turning to grab plates from the cabinet. “Sure, let’s call that your triumph of the day.”

As the toaster clicked and the smell of warm bread filled the kitchen, Draco busied himself setting the table—his version of setting the table, which involved summoning everything with a flick of his wand and arranging it with the precision of a dinner party.

“You do realize breakfast doesn’t require formal presentation, right?” you teased, sitting down as he placed a perfectly folded napkin by your plate.

Draco smirked, sliding into the seat across from you. “Just because it’s breakfast doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be elegant.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he reached for the now-popped toast, applying butter with such deliberate care you half-expected him to use a ruler for even distribution. Shaking your head with a soft smile, you rose from your seat and quietly grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filling it with fresh coffee from the pot on the counter.

The warm aroma filled the kitchen as you set the pot down and returned to your chair, savoring the first sip in comfortable silence. Across the table, Draco finished buttering the toast and waved his wand casually, sending the coffee pot floating over to his side. It tilted gracefully, pouring a perfectly measured amount of coffee into his mug before settling back in its spot on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of your cup. “So, pouring coffee is too much effort, but you’ll put on a show buttering toast?”

Draco looked up, his expression far too smug. “Presentation matters, darling. Coffee is utility. Buttering toast is an art.”

You snorted, biting back a laugh as you leaned back in your chair. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and giving you a sly smile, “you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“Debatable,” you shot back, though the way your lips twitched betrayed the truth.

As the two of you ate, the quiet hum of the dishwasher filled the air, mixing with the faint clinking of dishes and the comforting warmth of the morning. You couldn’t help but think that, chaotic as it was, life with Draco had its charm.

Halfway through breakfast, Draco cleared his throat, setting his mug down with a deliberate clink. “By the way,” he said nonchalantly, brushing a nonexistent crumb from his sleeve, “my parents have asked to visit for dinner this evening.”

You froze mid-sip, glancing up at him.“Tonight?” 

This wasn’t the first time Draco had invited his parents over since you’d moved in together, but it never got easier. The Malfoys had made their opinions about his choices abundantly clear. The arguments had been frequent and heated when Draco first announced his decision to move into the Muggle world. Dating mudblood, as Lucius had so delicately put it during one particularly venomous conversation, had been a sore point from the start. The disdain in their voices, though carefully masked in your presence, was never far from the surface. Still, Narcissa had tried to keep things civil, at least outwardly. Her maternal instincts, perhaps, outweighed her prejudices. Lucius, on the other hand, had never fully hidden his disapproval. The sideways glances, the veiled barbs—it all painted a clear picture. They saw your relationship as a deviation, something temporary that would inevitably pass. And yet, they remained fairly cordial in front of you, no doubt for Draco’s sake. Tonight’s visit felt like yet another test, one you were determined to pass—though it always left you walking on eggshells.

Draco nodded, as if this were the most natural announcement in the world. “Yes, tonight. Around seven, I believe.”

You blinked, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “Right,” you murmured, your mind already racing. “I’ll need to go shopping today before the shops close, then.”

Draco frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Shopping? Whatever for?”

“For dinner, Draco,” you replied, standing to gather your plate. “We don’t exactly have a stocked pantry suitable for hosting your parents.”

As you moved toward the sink, he waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just send a house-elf to take care of it.”

You froze, staring at him over your shoulder. “Draco,” you said slowly, turning back toward the table, “We don’t have house-elves.”

He blinked, as though the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “We don’t?”

“No,” you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “They don’t exactly come with Muggle homes, you know.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, a look of mild bemusement crossing his face. “Strange. Well, no matter—I’ll ask Father to send a couple over for the day.”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “You’ll what?”

He shrugged, as if this were a completely reasonable solution. “I’ll write him after breakfast. It’s hardly a problem.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again as you tried to formulate a response. Finally, you shook your head, rubbing your temples. “Draco, we are not borrowing house-elves from your dad.”

“Why not?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“Because,” you said, sighing as you sat back down, “this is our home. I’m not dragging house-elves into it every time we have guests over. I’ll just go shopping, make a nice meal, and that’s that.”

Draco looked at you as though you’d just suggested cooking dinner over an open flame. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, sipping your coffee again. “This is how Muggles do things. Welcome to the real world.”

For a moment, Draco looked as though he might argue, but then he sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But I’m coming with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “To the grocery store?”

“Yes, to the grocery store,” he said, his expression a mix of determination and distaste. “If I’m going to endure this… experiment, I might as well see how it works.”

Smiling, you leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. “Alright then. I’ll go get ready.”

When you returned a short while later, Draco’s gaze immediately fell on the several empty shopping bags you were holding. His brows knitted together in confusion, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply followed your every movement with the intensity of someone trying to solve an unspeakable mystery.

You set the bags by the door and reached for the keys to the house, slipping them into your pocket before pulling on your shoes. Draco’s confusion deepened. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to leave,” you said, nonchalantly tying your laces.

Draco raised a perfectly arched brow. “And how exactly are we planning to get there? Apparition or Floo Powder?”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “Neither.”

“Neither?” he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief.

“We’re walking,” you said matter-of-factly, straightening up and grabbing the empty bags.

Draco blinked, his expression torn between incredulity and exasperation. “Walking? Why on earth would we walk when we could be there in seconds?”

“Because,” you explained patiently, “the shop is close by, and it would be weird to just appear in the middle of it. Muggles don’t take kindly to people popping out of thin air near the frozen food aisle.”

Draco stared at you as if you’d just suggested climbing a mountain for fun. “This is madness,” he declared.

You laughed, patting his arm as you opened the door. “Consider it part of the full Muggle experience.”

Still grumbling under his breath about the absurdity of it all, Draco stepped outside with you, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he scanned the street. “Walking,” he muttered again, shaking his head. “What will they think of next?”

You only smirked, knowing the real fun was yet to come. Draco laced his fingers with yours as you stepped out into the crisp winter air, the snow crunching softly beneath your boots. He pulled you closer as you walked, his warm breath visible in the cold. The streets were lined with houses adorned with twinkling lights, wreaths on doors, and the occasional snowman standing proudly in a yard.

“I could’ve taken the car,” you said casually, glancing up at him, “but I don’t think you’re ready to experience traffic yet.”

Draco gave you a pointed look, though his lips twitched with faint amusement. “If it’s anything like the stories you’ve told me, I’d rather not risk my sanity—or my temper.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “That’s probably for the best. One honking horn, and you’d be out of there faster than you could say ‘Pure-blood.’”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the bustling scenery around him. The sidewalks were busy with people bundled in coats and scarves, some carrying shopping bags, others chatting cheerfully. There was a warmth to it all—a vibrancy that was so different from the cold, quiet grandeur of the Malfoy Manor.

“For all the stupidity the Muggle world has to offer,” Draco murmured, his voice thoughtful, “I’ll admit… I do enjoy how lively it is.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the rare vulnerability in his tone. “Lively?”

He nodded, his icy eyes catching the glint of the snow-covered streets. “The manor was… beautiful, I suppose. Grand. But it was so isolated. Mostly empty land, save for the occasional visitor or house-elf passing by. There was nothing like this—” he gestured to the people around you, the soft hum of life that filled the air. “—no life, no… warmth.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “Well, you’ve got that now,” you said, smiling up at him. “Even if it comes with grocery shopping and dishwashers.”

Draco smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s a compromise I’m willing to make,” he said, his voice teasing but sincere.

As the two of you continued walking, the snowflakes began to fall again, dusting the streets and your hair in a light layer of white. Draco tightened his hold on your hand, the moment between you quiet and peaceful as the world around you bustled with life.

As you approached the grocery store, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a coin, flipping it between your fingers before sliding it into the lock on a row of shopping carts. With a satisfying click, the cart popped free, and you grabbed it, turning to Draco with a smile.

He stared at the cart, then at you, his brow furrowing. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

You laughed softly, gesturing to the coin slot on the cart. “It’s how you unlock them. You put in a coin, and when you’re done, you get it back.”

Draco’s confusion deepened as he examined the contraption with a critical eye. “Why would you need to pay for a cart? Isn’t that the store’s responsibility? Do you lose the money if you don’t return it?”

“Yes, you only lose the money if you don’t return it.” you explained, suppressing a giggle at his baffled expression. “It’s just a system to make sure people don’t leave the carts all over the parking lot… or steal them”

He tilted his head, considering this. “So, Muggles have to bribe themselves to do the responsible thing?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug, trying not to laugh at the sheer disdain in his voice.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the cart as if it had personally offended him. “What a pitifully inefficient system,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Why not just enchant the carts to return themselves?”

You snorted, wheeling the cart toward the entrance. “Because not everyone has magic, Draco. This works just fine.”

He fell into step beside you, still looking slightly affronted. “I should write to the Ministry. There has to be some sort of international wizarding intervention for this level of absurdity.”

You smirked, patting his arm as you entered the store. “You do that. In the meantime, try not to hex anything while we shop.”

Draco grumbled something under his breath but followed you inside, his sharp gaze taking in the bright fluorescent lights, the neatly stacked shelves, and the bustling crowd. “This is going to be an experience,” he muttered.

“You have no idea,” you replied with a grin, steering the cart toward the produce section.

You wheeled the cart through the store, stopping in the produce aisle to grab fresh herbs and vegetables for the roast dinner. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Draco wander a few steps away, picking up various food items and squinting at the labels like he was deciphering ancient runes. It was adorable, really, but you couldn’t help but focus on your shopping. As you mentally ran through your list, you zigzagged through aisles, tossing essentials into the cart—seasoning, potatoes, stock, bread. Before you knew it, you were in the snacks aisle, debating between crisps and popcorn.

That’s when you realized it. Draco was gone. You glanced around, craning your neck to see if you could spot his silver-blond hair anywhere in the sea of shoppers. Nothing. You sighed, silently praying he hadn’t decided to duel the automatic doors or try to interrogate the self-checkout machine. Just as you picked up a bag of crisps, you heard his unmistakable voice behind you.

“Look at this!” he said, sounding thoroughly impressed.

You turned around, and there he was—holding a bright yellow plastic broom.

“They have brooms here!” he said, turning it over in his hands as if he’d stumbled upon the latest innovation in flying technology. “Never seen one like this… must be a new model.”

You froze, staring at him, your lips twitching as you struggled to keep it together. “A new model?” you repeated, barely managing to suppress a laugh.

Draco nodded, completely serious. “It’s so lightweight. And this handle… not wood, but some kind of sturdy Muggle material. I’ve no idea where the charms are hidden, though.” He ran his fingers along the bristles, frowning slightly. “Odd design, but maybe it improves aerodynamics?”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, fighting to keep your laughter under control. “Draco… that’s not… it’s not a flying broom.”

He blinked, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion. “What do you mean? It’s a broom. What else could it be used for?”

“It’s for cleaning,” you managed, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter. “Muggles use it to sweep floors.”

Draco stared at the broom, then at you, then back at the broom. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” you said, finally letting out a small giggle. “That’s about as far from a flying broom as you can get.”

Draco’s face twisted into a mixture of horror and disappointment as he looked at the broom again. “They’ve completely ruined it,” he declared, setting it back on the shelf with a level of disdain usually reserved for cursed objects. “What’s the point of a broom that doesn’t fly?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, earning a few amused glances from other shoppers. “Oh, Draco,” you said between giggles, grabbing his arm. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of what we need before you find something else to ‘improve.’”

You couldn’t stop grinning as you watched Draco hover near the cleaning aisle, his gaze fixed on a row of mops. He tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he gingerly poked at the mop’s sponge end.

“What’s this for?” he asked, holding it up like it was a weapon he needed to disarm.

You chuckled, wheeling the cart closer. “That’s a mop. Muggles use it to clean floors—specifically, to scrub them when they’re wet or dirty.”

Draco’s lips parted in disbelief, and he blinked at you as if you’d just told him people used quills to sew fabric. “You’re telling me… they manually drag this thing around on the floor instead of just casting a Scouring Charm?”

“Pretty much,” you replied with a shrug, struggling to keep a straight face.

He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, “Primitive. Absolutely primitive.”

After returning the mop to its place like it had personally offended him, he stuck closer to your side for the rest of the trip, steering the shopping cart with surprising enthusiasm. At first, he pushed it tentatively, testing its movement, but before long, he was zipping down the aisles like a child with a new toy.

“Draco,” you called after him, trying not to laugh as he gave the cart a small push and watched it glide forward. “It’s not a racing broom.”

“Of course not,” he said, smirking but not stopping. “It’s much slower.”

Despite his antics, he peppered you with questions as you continued shopping, picking up random items and holding them out for inspection.

“And this?” he asked, holding up a box of instant pudding mix.

“It’s dessert. You mix it with milk, and it thickens into pudding.”

He frowned. “No wand required?”

“No wand required,” you confirmed, tossing the box into the cart.

He sighed dramatically, moving on to the next item. “And this?”

“A tin opener. It opens cans.”

Draco’s expression fell further. “What’s wrong with an Opening Charm?”

“Not everyone has one, Draco,” you said patiently, biting back a laugh as his disappointment deepened.

Item after item, his curiosity turned into sheer disillusionment. “Muggles really have to work this hard for everything, don’t they?” he muttered, picking up a manual whisk and giving it a dubious glance.

You smirked, taking it from him and placing it in the cart. “It’s not all bad. You’re surviving, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” he replied, pushing the cart forward with a little more flair than necessary.

By the time you made it to the checkout line, Draco had perfected his ‘long-suffering Pure-blood enduring the trials of the Muggle world’ expression, but you couldn’t help but notice the occasional glint of fascination in his eyes as he took in the bustling store around him. You were focused on unloading the cart, placing items neatly onto the till conveyor belt while Draco hovered a safe distance away from the machine. His cautious glances at the moving belt made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t alive. Out of nowhere, he called your name, and you turned just in time for him to shove a small box into your face.

“What is this then?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

You froze, your eyes widening as you recognized the box of condoms he was holding with an almost clinical detachment. Your face turned scarlet in an instant.

“Draco!” you hissed, snatching the box from his hand and glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused, tilting his head as he looked down at you. “What are they for? Some kind of… candy perhaps?”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words without alerting the nearby cashier or the couple in line behind you. Pulling Draco closer by the sleeve of his coat, you whispered urgently, “They’re… for, um, protection. During, uh, intimate moments.”

Draco’s brows furrowed, his confusion only deepening. “Protection? From what? Are Muggles frequently attacked during—oh.”

The realization dawned on his face, his pale cheeks tinging pink as he took a slight step back. He cleared his throat, glancing at the box still in your hand. “I see. That’s… efficient, I suppose.”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your burning face. “Can we please not discuss this here?”

Draco, however, seemed more intrigued than embarrassed now. “Do they… work reliably? Or—how do you even put it on?”

“Draco!” you hissed again, cutting him off as you stuffed the box back onto the shelf behind you.

He smirked at your reaction, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “You’re blushing, darling. It’s adorable.”

“Because you just asked about condoms in the middle of a grocery store,” you muttered, turning back to continue unloading the cart, your face still burning.

Draco chuckled softly, clearly finding your embarrassment far too amusing. He stayed quiet for a moment, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him lingering by the shelf where he’d found the box. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he examined the options: strawberry, ribbed, ultra-thin. Before you could say anything, he plucked one off the shelf and, with exaggerated caution, tossed it onto the conveyor belt from a distance, as if it might attack him.

You blinked at him, your confusion only growing as you stared at the box sitting innocently amidst the rest of your groceries. “Draco… what are you doing?”

He avoided your gaze, suddenly very interested in straightening his coat. “What? I want to try them,” he mumbled, his voice almost innocent.

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head as you leaned closer to whisper, “Draco, you do realize these aren’t, like, some kind of Muggle novelty item, right?”

He finally glanced at you, his pale cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m perfectly aware,” he said, straightening his posture. “I just… want to see what all the fuss is about.”

You covered your face with your hand, torn between exasperation and laughter. “You are unbelievable.”

The cashier began scanning the items, and Draco, determined to prove himself useful, did his best to place them into the bags you had handed him. His movements were deliberate and almost comically precise, as if packing groceries was a skill to be mastered.

You watched with quiet amusement as he gingerly placed eggs into a bag, his face a mask of concentration. He only paused when the cashier announced the total and you pulled out a card to pay.

Draco’s eyes widened, his gaze darting between you and the small machine where you inserted the card. “That’s how you pay?” he murmured, half to himself.

“Yup,” you replied, suppressing a grin as the machine beeped, signaling the transaction was complete.

But what truly left him speechless was the receipt. The small slip of paper emerged from a hidden compartment with a faint whirring sound, and Draco stepped back slightly, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

“What now?” you asked, noticing his confusion.

He pointed at the receipt, his voice low and serious. “Is it enchanted?”

You chuckled, taking the receipt and tucking it into your pocket. “No, Draco, it’s just a record of what we bought. No magic involved.”

He said nothing, though his expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Once outside, with the shopping bags evenly distributed between you, Draco slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you walked through the snowy streets. His grip was firm and grounding, but his face was set in a deep, pensive frown. You glanced up at him, his furrowed brows and slightly parted lips betraying the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Deciding not to interrupt, you pressed yourself closer to his side, letting your head rest lightly against the side of his chest. The walk home was quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your boots. Draco remained silent, processing the bizarre journey into Muggle life. You didn’t push him, knowing he’d speak when he was ready—or maybe not at all. By the time you reached your house, his frown had softened, though his eyes still had a far-off look. As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, you caught the faintest glimmer of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Next time,” he said as he set the bags down, his tone a mix of humor and resignation, “I’ll handle the receipt.”

—

You busied yourself in the kitchen, determined to make a flawless roast dinner for Draco’s parents. You knew they weren’t particularly fond of you or the fact that Draco was immersing himself in the Muggle world. Still, you were set on showing them that you belonged in Draco’s life, no matter how many raised eyebrows they threw your way. Draco leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you work. His silver hair caught the warm light of the kitchen, and though his expression remained neutral, you could tell he was intrigued. You chopped, seasoned, and kneaded everything by hand, and it was clear he wasn’t used to such a process.

“You really do all of this without magic?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yup,” you replied, sprinkling some herbs over the potatoes. “From scratch. It’s not so bad once you get the hang of it.”

Draco hummed in response, clearly not convinced but unwilling to argue. The quiet shuffling of aluminum caught your attention, and you glanced over your shoulder.

What you saw nearly made you drop the salt shaker.

Draco stood there holding an unpackaged, rolled-up condom in his hands, a deep frown etched on his face. He was holding it between his fingers like it was a particularly slimy slug, his lips curling in disgust.

You bit back a laugh, trying to focus on the potatoes as you replied casually, “You have to unroll it.”

“Aha,” Draco mumbled, clearly no less confused, as he turned and disappeared into the other room.

You shook your head, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. For a moment, the kitchen was quiet again, save for the sound of the roast sizzling in the oven. Then came muffled grumbles from the other room.

It didn’t take long for Draco to reappear, still holding the condom. His face was a mix of defeat and lingering disgust as he held it up. “I have no idea how this thing works,” he admitted, his voice low. “And why does it feel so… disgustingly slimy?”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, clutching the counter for support as tears sprang to your eyes. “Oh my God, Draco,” you managed between fits of laughter.

He scowled, tossing the condom onto the counter as if washing his hands of the whole ordeal. “It’s not funny!”

“It is!” you replied, wiping at your eyes. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with it!”

Draco sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t understand how Muggles deal with this nonsense. Magical contraceptives are far less… revolting.” He glanced down at the discarded condom with a look of pure disdain. “It couldn’t even go on.”

You bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter as you stepped closer to him. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek gently, guiding his attention back to you. His silver eyes softened slightly, his frown easing as you leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips lingering against his just long enough to distract him from his frustration.

When you pulled back, your voice was low, your tone teasing. “You need to be… excited for it to work, Draco.”

Draco blinked, his cheeks immediately flushing a soft pink. He straightened, his usual composure cracking for a brief moment as he processed your words. “Excited?” he echoed, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You grinned, brushing past him to check on the roast in the oven. “That’s right,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just sent his mind spinning.

Draco stood frozen for a moment, glancing back at the discarded condom as if it had betrayed him yet again. Then, he turned to you, his voice laced with indignation. “You could have told me that earlier instead of letting me wrestle with it like some kind of fool!”

You laughed, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Draco huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter once more, his pink cheeks still betraying him. “Muggles,” he muttered under his breath, though there was a faint, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, Malfoy” you teased, brushing your hands off on a towel. “Go set the table before your parents get here, and I promise no more surprises. For now.”

Draco gave you a mock glare before turning to do as you asked, his mutterings about Muggle nonsense fading as he left the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you returned to your cooking. Living with Draco was chaotic, but moments like this reminded you just how much you loved having him in your world—even if he’d never quite understand all of it.

The table was set perfectly, as if Draco had spent as much time arranging it as you had cooking. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your clothes as the knock on the door echoed through the flat. Draco opened it with his usual composed grace, greeting his parents with a stiff nod.

Narcissa stepped inside first, her expression polite but guarded as she glanced around the house. “Draco,” she said softly, pulling him into a quick hug. Her gaze flicked to you, and she offered a small, tight smile. “Y/N.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” you greeted, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

Lucius followed behind her, his sharp features betraying nothing but disdain as he surveyed his surroundings. He inclined his head slightly toward you, though his lips never moved to form a greeting. It was clear that he was only here under duress, likely at Narcissa’s insistence.

“Do come in,” Draco said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the dining room.

As everyone settled at the table, the tension was palpable. Narcissa sat with perfect posture, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap, while Lucius sat rigid, his cane resting against the table. His icy gaze swept the room, his disdain evident in every furrow of his brow.

Draco, however, seemed unbothered. He stood proudly, bringing out the food you had spent all afternoon preparing. He set the dishes on the table with a flourish, clearing his throat. “Dinner is served,” he announced, his voice filled with pride. “And before you ask—yes, it was cooked entirely without magic or the help of house-elves.”

Narcissa’s brows lifted slightly, a spark of genuine surprise in her eyes. “Really?” she asked, glancing at the dishes. “That’s quite impressive.”

Lucius, on the other hand, let out a scoff, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Why anyone would willingly endure such a process is beyond me,” he muttered, earning a sharp glance from his wife.

You bit your tongue, focusing on serving the food as Draco sat down beside you, clearly unfazed by his father’s comment. The meal began in awkward silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of cutlery and the occasional scrape of a chair.

Finally, Narcissa broke the quiet, turning to her son with a warm, curious smile. “So, Draco, what did you do today?”

Draco sat up straighter, his face lighting up as he launched into an enthusiastic recount of the grocery store trip. “We went to this… Muggle establishment,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of awe and incredulity. “You wouldn’t believe it, Mother. Rows upon rows of food and supplies, all sorted into sections. It was fascinating.”

Narcissa listened intently, her eyes softening as he spoke. “That does sound rather intriguing,” she said, her tone genuine.

Draco continued, describing the shopping cart, the conveyor belt, and the curious beeping machine at the till. “And did you know they have these tiny coins you put into the carts to unlock them?” he added, gesturing animatedly.

Lucius let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as if Draco’s enthusiasm was physically painful. “I fail to see the appeal,” he muttered under his breath, casting a glance toward the window as though contemplating apparating away.

You stifled a laugh, watching the stark contrast between Draco’s animated storytelling, Narcissa’s interest, and Lucius’s clear misery.

“I even packed the bags,” Draco added proudly. “It’s a ridiculous system, but I managed.”

Narcissa smiled warmly, her pride evident. “I’m glad to see you adapting so well, Draco. It’s important to understand how others live, even if it’s different from what we’re used to.”

Lucius muttered something unintelligible, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his cane.

Draco turned to you, his eyes bright with satisfaction. “See, love? Mother appreciates it.”

You smiled back, your heart warming at his excitement. “She does,” you said softly, glancing at Narcissa, who nodded in agreement.

Lucius, however, simply sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Let us hope this… experiment of yours doesn’t last too long,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.

Draco’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure, reaching for your hand under the table. His fingers squeezed yours briefly, a silent reassurance that he didn’t care what his father thought. The rest of the meal continued with a mix of awkward small talk and Draco’s detailed observations of the Muggle world. Though Lucius remained unimpressed, Narcissa’s quiet encouragement made the effort feel worthwhile. As the conversation wound down and the plates were nearly cleared, Draco suddenly leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. His sharp blue eyes glimmered with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I have something to show you,” he muttered, his tone casual but with a hint of mischief.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What is it?” you asked cautiously, your brow furrowing as you tried to guess what he could possibly be up to now.

Draco stood up, strolling out of the dining room with the air of someone retrieving an important artifact. Lucius and Narcissa exchanged puzzled glances, while you felt a flicker of dread creeping up your spine. He returned a moment later, holding a familiar box in his hand.

Your heart sank as your face turned beet red. No. No, no, no, no.

He placed the box of condoms on the table, directly in front of you, and tilted his head with a curious smirk. “You never explained properly,” he said smoothly, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his nonchalant demeanor. “I think it’s time I fully understood how they work.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Lucius froze mid-sip of his wine, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. Narcissa’s lips parted slightly as her eyes darted between the box and her son. Meanwhile, you felt your soul leaving your body as your entire face burned hotter than the roast in the oven earlier.

“Draco,” you hissed, your voice a mix of mortification and desperation. “Not now.”

“Why not?” he asked innocently, his smirk widening as he clearly enjoyed your discomfort. “You said it was important to understand Muggle things if I am living here.”

Narcissa cleared her throat delicately, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Draco, darling, perhaps this is a… conversation better suited for another time,” she said, her voice calm but tinged with amusement.

Lucius, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to sink into the ground. “For Salazar’s sake, Draco!” he snapped, his pale face turning an uncharacteristic shade of red. “Have you lost all sense of decorum?”

Draco shrugged, unbothered. “I was merely curious, Father. Isn’t that what this move is about—understanding?”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die,” you muttered under your breath.

Draco leaned closer to you, his smirk softening into something almost endearing. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said quietly. “It’s just a box. Besides, you’re the one who said they’re important.”

“Not during dinner with your parents!” you shot back in a harsh whisper.

Narcissa stood gracefully, reaching for her wine glass and glancing at Lucius, who was visibly seething. “Perhaps we should take a moment to admire the décor in the living room,” she suggested, her tone light but firm. “Give them a moment to… collect themselves.”

Lucius rose quickly, eager to escape the situation, and followed her out without another word.

As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned to Draco, glaring at him through your lingering embarrassment. “What is wrong with you?”

He grinned, his pale cheeks still faintly pink. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Draco,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. But despite your mortification, a reluctant laugh bubbled up, escaping your lips.

Draco chuckled softly, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Hey,” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “It looks like my parents knew exactly what the box contained.”

You groaned louder, shaking your head as you peeked at him from between your fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s more fun than I had ever experienced in my life,” he replied, smirking. “And because your reactions are priceless.”

You swatted his arm lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You’re going to pay for this later.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Draco said smoothly, leaning back in his chair with an infuriatingly smug expression.

You shook your head, standing to start clearing the table. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth twitched despite your best efforts to remain stern.

Draco stood as well, grabbing a plate and following you to the kitchen. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softening slightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother look that impressed. You’re winning her over, you know.”

You glanced at him, your irritation melting a little as you caught the sincerity in his eyes. “Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But your dad looks like he’s ready to disown you.”

Draco shrugged, setting the plate down on the counter. “He’ll survive. I’d say this visit is going better than expected.”

You arched an eyebrow, gesturing toward the box still sitting on the table. “Even with that little stunt?”

He smirked, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Especially because of that,” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered as you turned back to the dishes. Life with Draco was unpredictable, embarrassing, and absolutely worth it.

After a while, with the kitchen cleaned and dessert plates neatly arranged, you rejoined Draco’s parents in the living room. You placed the cake and a small pot of tea on the coffee table, smiling as Narcissa complimented the presentation. “It looks lovely, dear,” she said warmly, her eyes lighting up as she tasted the first bite. “And delicious.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” you replied, feeling a small wave of relief at her approval.

Meanwhile, Draco stood by the TV, flicking it on with the remote. The screen lit up, filling the room with sound and color. He had been obsessed with it ever since the two of you moved in, constantly exploring its features and marveling at the variety of channels.

“And this,” he began, gesturing to the screen, “is called a television. It’s a Muggle device that streams moving pictures and sound. There are different stations—some show plays or sports, others music or news.”

Lucius, who had been seated stiffly on the sofa, cast the TV a disinterested glance at first. But as Draco flipped through the channels, his gaze lingered, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

Draco settled on a music channel, where a pop song played over vibrant, fast-moving visuals. Lucius leaned forward slightly, his cane forgotten at his side as his eyes remained glued to the screen.

Narcissa, meanwhile, sipped her tea and turned to you with a soft smile. “The cake is truly wonderful, Y/N. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, glancing at Lucius, whose face was now bathed in the colorful glow of the TV. Draco was explaining the concept of music videos, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and pride.

“And these stations,” Draco said, pointing to the remote, “play music continuously. The visuals match the songs—like this one, see?”

Lucius didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were analyzing every detail. Eventually, he gave a slow nod. “Remarkable,” he muttered under his breath, clearly fascinated despite his obvious disdain for anything muggle.

Narcissa glanced at him with a knowing smile but said nothing, letting her husband enjoy his unexpected discovery.

After a while, Narcissa stood gracefully, placing her empty teacup on the table and smoothing the fabric of her elegant robe. “It’s getting late,” she said gently, her tone warm but firm. “We should be heading home.”

Lucius didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the television, where a lively music video was playing. His normally composed expression was slightly softened, his eyes darting between the screen and the remote in Draco’s hand.

“Lucius,” Narcissa prompted, her voice holding a hint of exasperation. “It’s time to go.”

He finally tore his gaze away from the screen, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yes, yes, in a moment,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively as if he needed just a little more time to understand the contraption.

Draco smirked, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. “I think he likes it,” he whispered to you, his voice filled with amusement.

Narcissa gave you a knowing glance, her lips twitching into a faint smile before turning back to her husband. “Lucius,” she said again, a bit more firmly this time, “we’re leaving. Now.”

Lucius sighed dramatically, rising from the sofa but casting the TV one last, reluctant glance. “I suppose,” he said, his voice tinged with regret, “we can continue exploring this… device another time.”

You exchanged goodbyes at the door, Narcissa giving you a soft pat on the arm and a smile that felt almost maternal. Lucius remained as formal as ever, though there was an unusual glint in his eye as he glanced at the living room one last time.

As the two of them stepped outside, you lingered by the door with Draco. The crisp night air carried the faint sound of their voices as they walked toward the apparition point.

“You know,” Lucius muttered to Narcissa, his voice carrying just enough for you to catch, “we should consider getting one of those televisions for the manor.”

Narcissa’s laugh was soft but unmistakable. “I’ll make the arrangements,” she replied, her tone indulgent.

Draco closed the door, leaning against it with a triumphant smirk. “See?” he said, turning to you. “It wasn’t so bad.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think you just converted your father into a TV enthusiast.”

“Not bad for one evening,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Though I’d say the real victory was your cake. Well done, love.”

You smiled, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss. “Thanks, but I think your TV demonstration might’ve been the real winner tonight.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Of course. I am rather persuasive.”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you turned off the living room lights—a concept Draco still found mildly perplexing. He mumbled something about how inconvenient switches were compared to a simple wand flick as you guided him upstairs to your bedroom.

By the time you finished washing up and changed into your pajamas, Draco was already tucked under the covers. The glow from his nightlight—a softly enchanted orb you’d insisted on for his comfort—bathed the room in a warm, golden hue.

You paused at the vanity, applying cream to your face while sneaking a glance at him through the mirror. He was sitting upright, his brow furrowed as he read the label on the back of the box of condoms. His lips moved faintly as if he were trying to work out some sort of  instructions.

Biting back a laugh, you shook your head and turned off the main lights, leaving only the dim glow of his nightlight. Crawling into bed beside him, you couldn’t resist teasing him.

“Still trying to figure that out?” you asked, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Draco looked over at you, holding up the box with a faint smirk. “The instructions are absurdly detailed for something so… basic.”

You chuckled, resting your head on the pillow. “I’m not sure what you expected. Magic?”

“Honestly, yes,” he replied, setting the box on the nightstand and settling under the covers. “Everything’s unnecessarily complicated without it.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, if it gets too overwhelming, just remember—I’m here to guide you through it.”

Draco turned to you, his smirk softening into something warmer. “I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly over your hand before pulling you closer.

As the nightlight cast its soft glow over the room, you snuggled into his side, grateful for the quiet comfort of the moment. Life with Malfoy was a whirlwind, but here, in the stillness of your shared space, everything felt just right. Draco was silent for a while, though you could feel him thinking, his body slightly tense beneath yours. Finally, his voice broke the quiet, soft and hesitant. “Could you show me how to use them? Tonight?”

You lifted your head to look at him, his silver eyes meeting yours, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. Leaning in, you placed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to reassure him. When you pulled back, you smiled gently, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Of course.”

The room fell into a quiet calm, the only sounds the faint rustle of the sheets as you moved closer to him. Draco’s arms wrapped around you, his touch steady and warm. Life in the muggle world had turned out to be far more surprising than Draco had ever expected. It wasn’t as grand or as effortless as the magical life he’d always known, but there was something about it—something real, unpolished, and oddly comforting.

Though, as he discovered later that night, the condoms were nothing special after all.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

[crooked-wasteland]

Taking out the themes of Colonialism and Tourism from Lilo and Stitch is to dig the foundation of the story out from under itself.

One of my favorite examples of how the white washing of colonized peoples affects their wellbeing was the scene at the very beginning of the 2002 animated movie. Lilo is late to her dance class, a class that teaches the traditional Hawaiian style.

While I think most are aware of this fact, Hula is a choreographed story. I learned Hula from my own dance teacher as a child, who was a native Hawaiian. I was inspired by how the motions told the stories of Hawaii's mythology and I understood the reverence for the art even then.

So the fact that Lilo is both a dancer and a student of her culture is important. It bleeds seamlessly into her storytelling around Pudge the Fish. Her beliefs and customs around Pudge, while often elevated as autistic coding, is also just a way to show how White colonizers erased native culture. Lilo truly believes Pudge can control the weather, much like many Polynesian and native American mythologies have the same beliefs to their lore as any other religion.

But instead of her beliefs being valued or understood, especially in regards to her trauma and how a bad storm resulted in her parents' car crash, Mertyl, the very white American girl from the mainland, calls Lilo crazy. And in 2025, we have to be more aware of how colonialism and religion also go hand in hand. All religious beliefs outside of the white Christians' magical man from the middle east are obviously silly little stories and fairy tales.

And Lilo fights back. Physically and without restraint. She defends herself and in that way defends her culture.

But every time Lilo fights back against the colonialism that is actively alienating her from her own home, she is told she's in the wrong.

Just like how Stitch is considered an abomination for merely existing.

Lilo and Stitch connect on the grounds of their shared anger at social structures they don't understand, a sense of powerlessness, and a longing for stability and community.

Lilo replicates colonialism onto Stitch in the sequence where she tries to make him like Elvis Presley. Trying to construct this idea of Stitch that is more understandable and palatable to others. Her crayon chart and use of the words "good" and "bad" is Lilo's way of trying to fit in. It's her child's mind attempt at accepting assimilation.

And it is reinforced through Nani's journey of finding a job. She's not seeking a job out of her own needs or desires, but because the US Government in the form of CPS will claim her unfit to take care of her sister if she doesn't. Nani is constantly creating a different version of herself to be accepted, assimilated, all while Lilo is attempting to do the same to Stitch. And Nani's reasoning of trying to keep custody of Lilo in the face of an abstract entity that has unimaginable power is a perfect allegory to Hawaii and her struggle to maintain her culture in the face of colonialism and gentrification.

If you remove the colonization themes from Lilo and Stitch, you have removed the fundamental structures that keep the story together.

[princepinkart]

"Finally. Mine."

I have a lot to share about this drawing. I've detailed all my thought-process under the cut below :]

The idea is simple: I wanted to draw Magolor getting his hands on the crown, but surrounded with symbolisms of regret.

About the color palette:

Purple is the main color of regret in occident

It is complementary with yellow, the crown's color

Everything that is yellow has a connection to the crown

For the crown, it is obvious, its own self

For Magolor's eyes, they are the same yellow as the crown, as if you could see it reflected in his eyes. It represents his obsession, his ambitions, and most of all, the eyes are the soul's window. The moment Magolor put his hands on the crown, his soul wasn't his to control anymore.

The roses and the sand are detailed below

The roses:

From my research, I found that yellow roses were a symbol of regrets and asking for forgiveness in ancient greek mythology

It stuck with me, firstly because the color yellow is important to my drawing

But also because Magolor isn't a character represented by flowers

He's represented through magic or technology (like gears)

However, those roses do not represents him as a character, but his wish to be one day forgiven for all the wrongs the crown forced him to do.

Magolor is a liar and a traitor. In order to show his sincere apology, it had to be something that did not mirror his usal image (like magic and trickery and technology), but instead something that mirrored his feelings.

Thus, yellow roses.

The hourglass:

The hourglass symbolises time, by nature

Here, it represents the unforgivable nature of time. Mistakes cannot be erased, pain cannot be forgotten.

No matter how strong Magolor may regret his actions, he will never be able to take them back.

The last grain of sand falling means that he cannot go back on what he is about to become.

He sealed his fate, touching the crown signed the contract.

Overall composition:

The yellow roses and the crown follow a fibonacci curve

The crown resting at the apex. The most important point of the composition is the crown, because in this picture, Magolor is not the one in charge.

The hourglass is in the exact middle of the frame, disregarding the rest of the composition.

The houglass, time itself, represents balance, something eternal and abstract, perfectly symmetric

A mechanical beauty surrounded by a flower field

The stars of the galaxy in the background.

The very same stars Magolor wished to rule over, with the power of the crown.

He may have looked so close to accomplishing his ambition, however, much like the stars, there were still a billion miles more to go.

And lastly, the title:

"Finally. Mine." is meant to be ironic. Because there wasn't a single instant where the crown was his. As I said multiple times already, he is the one bowing to the crown.

Ok that's all I had say about what I thought about when creating this piece!!! XD

Now let me show you how I turned a quick doodle on a notebook into the finished drawing!!!

It started with simple notes I took while at work today, with a quick thumbnail.

Did a quick sketch on my pc as soon as I got back home, just to have a rough idea of the composition with all the elements

I went over everything now that I had the composition in order to have a better sense of proportions and perspective

I cleaned the lines. Those roses were so tedious to draw XD Originaly I wanted to do a very clean, sharp line art, but I changed my mind and settled with this as my line art

I added the flat colors. I didn't use a palette from somewhere, I went with my gut feeling all the way through XD I really like how Magolor's colors turned out!

And finally, the finished product. Added more vibrance to the yellow, added the light rays and the details in Magolor's eyes.

Extras of the finished drawing with the fibonacci curve on top of it :D

A job well done if you ask me :]

[solxamber]

Hi, I love your works!

For the holiday event could you do Pomefiore fluff with #7 "For you, anything"?

starting my year off strong with vil!

Unrefined || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "For you, anything." ; Genre: Fluff

Vil was meticulous, graceful, and always, always in control of his image. Which was why it took you a moment to believe your eyes when you saw him standing there, sleeves rolled up, staring at the rainbow of paints in front of him.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, trying to hide your grin. “This doesn’t really scream ‘Vil Schoenheit, the epitome of refinement.’”

He gave you a pointed look, though there was a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. “You said you wanted to do this together. I’m not about to let you make a mess by yourself.”

“A mess? Vil, it’s called art.”

“Mm-hmm. And what do you call this?” He gestured to the splatter of paint that was already on your cheek from your earlier enthusiasm.

You shrugged, grinning wider. “Creative expression.”

He sighed dramatically, but there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes. “Whatever you say,” he murmured, his tone soft as he dipped his brush into a vibrant shade of blue.

The two of you spent the next hour transforming blank canvases into colorful chaos. Well, you created chaos. Vil, despite his initial complaints, approached the activity like he approached everything else: with focus and precision.

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” you teased, adding a wild streak of orange to your painting.

“And you’re not taking it seriously enough,” he countered, arching a brow as he added a delicate gold outline to his work.

“Fine, Mr. Perfection. Let’s see how you handle this.” Before he could react, you swiped a fingerful of paint and dabbed it on the tip of his nose.

Vil froze, staring at you with wide eyes. For a split second, you thought you’d crossed a line. But then he smiled—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that made your heart do somersaults.

“Oh, darling,” he said, voice dripping with faux sweetness, “you’ve started something you can’t finish.”

The next thing you knew, he had a brush in hand and was swiping a streak of purple across your arm.

“Vil!” you yelped, laughing as you tried to dodge him.

By the time the impromptu paint war was over, both of you were covered in smears of color, and the once-clean studio looked like an abstract masterpiece.

You collapsed onto the floor, breathless and laughing, and Vil joined you, his usual poise completely abandoned.

“You’re going to regret this when you see the cleanup,” you said between giggles.

“Perhaps,” he replied, gazing at you with an expression so tender it made your heart ache. “But if it makes you smile like that, it’s worth it.”

You reached over and wiped a streak of paint from his cheek, cupping his face in your hand. “You’re the best, you know that?”

He leaned into your touch, his voice barely above a whisper. “For you, anything.”

And in that moment, surrounded by colorful chaos and the warmth of his love, you believed him.

Masterlist