#messy sketchbook doodle save me...

[pocasu]

🦇 rkgk

[monstermonger]

bit of a silly question here but have you ever gotten afraid to draw in a journal like the one you recently shared? like the idea of using the pages "incorrectly" or "wasting" them (or running out right before you get inspiration that might have been "better" than what you'd jotted down)? your art is INCREDIBLE and I know the best way to improve is to do it, all the time, but I struggle getting started for those sorts of fears, and I want to know if you have tips for overcoming that ^^

I don't think it's a silly question, in fact I think it's one of the Ultimate Art Questions haha

Yes I 100% struggled with that in the past; i'm happy to try my best, sharing some personal tips in journaling, specifically! :D

TECHNICAL SIDE:

>> Small simple sketchbook = less intimidating to fill the pages. (Also, easy to carry around)

5x7in Moleskin, and a pilot pen

>> My journal ISN'T a place to prove that I can make pretty pictures. I have separate sketchbooks for that. I use journals to jot down ideas and notes of things I like. (yes i shared a few pages that happened to look nice, but there were 100+ other pages after all d: )

Spontaneous observation is messy and imprecise. But not in a bad way.

Rather than seeing the messiness as "bad/unworthy imperfection," try to see it as a miraculous insight to how you, a unique human being with your unique thoughts and art experience, sees the things you like

My journal process (in general): doodle a pretty cake I ate, a funny bird I saw, some weird dialogue I overheard, stickers, stamps, a character in a book that I want to draw as a dragon,......... scatter them all over the page, then look at the random blocks of empty paper remaining. Fill those up next with another lil quote, or words about the week, or some pretty vines/flowers :) etc. It's like making a collage.

Draw what you actually LIKE + what actually sounds FUN to draw. u can always take photos/save pics of other stuff if it's overwhelming.

>> Find your comfort tools. I love ink. how it looks, feels, etc; I hardly ever use pencil. A sketch that I need to ink over is usually too much work for my journal. I'm just trying to get down ideas before I get bored or get inspired by another thing LOL

[But yeah: pencils can be the perfect tool for someone else. Regular pencils, colored pencils, watercolor pencils... play around with a bunch of basic tools to find your fav.]

EMOTIONAL SIDE:

I highly recommend Lynda Barry's book "Making Comics." She has some lovely, and deeply empathetic things to say about overcoming fear of making "bad" art.

My journal scribblings/therapeutic studies --- someone with 10x the skill could do it better, sure, but they probs wouldn't focus on the same details, or be interested in the same monsters, or be thinking the same thoughts as me.

They won't have the same things to say about their day, won't see the same spindly tree growing from a crumbling brick wall on their walk. etc!

Also! imo this POV isn't an excuse to feel like I don't need to improve my technical skill, but it keeps me happy, fulfilled, and motivated as I'm on that road of improvement. AND it makes me appreciate others' incredible art as their own reflection of the things they love/their own experiences, rather than view it competitively/jealously.

"Drawing is so much more than Good or Bad. It is a language from another part of you." - Lynda Barry

[boricuasirena25]

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader

ellie sat hunched over her lunch tray, poking at her soggy curly fries with a spork that had seen better days. her glasses were already sliding down her nose, but she didn’t care—her green eyes were glued across the room.

you were sitting with your boyfriend.

your boyfriend, who had the personality of a ‘home depot bucket’.

your boyfriend, who just smacked your ass in front of the whole table.

ellie’s pen shook in her grip as she kept doodling, her sketchbook open between her tray and a half-empty dr pepper. the drawing? you.

you in a ballgown, tits perky and glowing, eyes soft, tied to a tower.

ellie was the knight, naturally. messy armor, converse still drawn on, sword raised. saving you from sir adrian the d*ckhead.

“ellie,” dina said softly, sipping her chocolate milk like it was wine, “please tell me that’s not her again.” jesse leaned over and glanced down. “is… is that her boobs again?”

“she drew the lace detail,” dina whispered, slightly horrified. “ellie.”

ellie’s ears turned red. “i—i’m just… practicing anatomy.”

“that’s the fifteenth ‘anatomy’ sketch this week,” jesse muttered. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

“she’s wearing that bra today,” ellie said under her breath, dreamily. “the pink one. the push-up. victoria’s secret. i know the straps.”

dina choked. “you memorized her bras?!”

“i don’t need to look. i see them when i close my eyes,” ellie whispered, then slowly blinked, biting her lip. “f*ck, i’m gonna nut right here.”

jesse looked away. “this is concerning.”. dina leaned in, serious now. “ellie. she is never gonna want you. babe… she’s dating adrian. she told you to stop calling her mamacita.”

“she doesn’t hate me,” ellie muttered, defensive. “she just doesn’t know me yet.”

“you said she told you to ‘stop breathing near her,’” jesse pointed out.

ellie went quiet. still staring. you were giggling at something your boyfriend said. your gloss was shining. your boobs were… goodness. ellie had to adjust her hoodie.

and then—she saw it.

adrian… was looking at another girl’s ass. right in front of you.

and not even subtly. full turn. smirk. a wink.

you didn’t see it. but ellie did.

she felt something in her chest snap.

“…f*ck it,” ellie said suddenly, slamming her sketchbook shut. “i can’t.”

dina blinked. “ellie—what are you doing?”

“she’s not staying with that meathead. not while i’m here. i swear to God.”

jesse watched her stand. “bro. please don’t.”

ellie was already halfway to your table, glasses sliding, spider-man boxers probably damp, confidence nonexistent—but the delusion?

unbreakable.

you looked up just as she approached.

she stopped right at your table. her voice cracked a little. “h- hey… can I talk to you?”

you looked up slowly, straw still between your glossed lips, sipping your strawberry milk just like the princess you are in her sketches. your lashes fluttered, eyes big and bored.

“…you wanna talk to me?” you said, raising a brow. “about what?”

ellie’s heart thudded so hard she swore everyone could hear it. her hands were jammed in the front pocket of her hoodie, sketchbook awkwardly stuffed in the back of her jeans, peeking out like a secret.

“i- uh—” she cleared her throat. “i just— i had something to say.”

adrian, your muscle-brained boyfriend, didn’t even wait. he leaned forward, smirking with some BBQ sauce on his thumb. “yo, is this the girl who wrote you that weird poem in homeroom?”

you blinked. “what poem?”

ellie turned the color of a stop sign. “i didn’t— that wasn’t—it wasn’t weird—”

“she’s the band girl, right?” adrian laughed. “what was it again—something about your ’glossed lips guiding her sword’?”

“it was a metaphor!” ellie snapped, voice cracking again.

you looked her up and down. glasses slipping. hoodie wrinkled. fingers twitching. you caught the sketchbook spine sticking out her back pocket, and your brain flickered—was that glittery gel pen on the edge?

adrian scoffed. “nah, baby, don’t waste your time. this girl’s clearly obsessed.”

“i’m not obsessed,” ellie mumbled. “i just… admire her. from afar. and sometimes from slightly less afar. but not in a creepy way.”

you blinked slowly. “slightly less afar?”

ellie swallowed hard. she could barely look at you. your push-up bra was peeking out beneath your VS pink zip up, your boobs right there and glowing under the fluorescent cafeteria light like the holy grail.

“i just think you’re, like… really smart,” ellie blurted.

you squinted. “smart?”

“yeah,” she nodded fast, flustered. “like, not just hot. you’re smart-hot. your notes in AP Bio are color-coded and your handwriting’s, like, freakishly neat. i saw it once and cried a little.”

adrian burst out laughing. “yo, this b*tch is wild.”

you ignored him. still staring at ellie. “you… cried?”

ellie pushed her glasses up. “i also drew you in medieval armor once. you were holding a staff made of lip gloss and the souls of men who hurt you. your bra was historically inaccurate but, like, it made sense narratively.”

adrian stood up now. “alright, you’re done—”

“no,” you said suddenly, sharp. “she’s not.”

adrian turned, stunned. you looked back at ellie, tilting your head.

“what was i holding again?” you asked.

ellie froze. “uh. a staff. made of—of fenty gloss and vengeance.”

you smiled. real smile. not sarcastic, not mocking. you leaned in just a little, lashes fluttering.

“and what were you wearing?”

ellie nearly passed out. “…spidey armor. i think. it had boob padding for—well. i didn’t want to be historically inaccurate either.”

you giggled. adorable, deadly. the sound of lesbo nerd death.

ellie stood frozen. your eyes sparkled. you didn’t say anything else—you just slowly turned back to your fries like it was nothing. ellie didn’t know if she’d just won or if you were about to file a restraining order.

dina and jesse were in the back mouthing WHAT THE F*CK.

but ellie? ellie walked back to her seat with her chest puffed slightly and her spider-man boxers clinging just a little wetter to her.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

ANAKIN SKYWALKER HEADCANONS

Author's note: this may be.. different

Anakin Skywalker who has an incredible long-term memory but an awful short-term memory. He is the type to remember something from years ago in painstaking detail—like the exact color of your dress the first time he saw you or a specific phrase you once said that made him laugh—but completely forget why he walked into a room five seconds ago.

He’d be so frustrated with himself, too:

«I can rebuild an entire podracer from memory, but I can’t remember where I put my damn lightsaber five minutes ago!»

If you would just tease him about it, his lips would twist into a pout;

“Well, at least I remembered the anniversary of our first kiss.” (Cue him smugly crossing his arms while you roll your eyes.)

Anakin Skywalker who has a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen;

He’d sit cross-legged on his bed in the quarters, hunched over the journal with the sparkly pen in hand, writing furiously:

«Mission Log: Obi-Wan still doesn’t get it. He says I’m reckless, but who saved his ass again today? Oh, right, me. Also, y/n smiled at me when I said goodbye, and I’m not saying it means anything, but maybe it does. Anyway, I need a new purple pen—this one’s running out of glitter ink.»

Anakin Skywalker's diary would be filled with doodles of podracers, little hearts around your name, and the occasional rant about sand;

Humming softly, he bent over the page, scrawling your name in his bold, messy handwriting. He frowned, mumbling under his breath about his uneven letters before shrugging it off. Next to your name, he started to doodle little hearts, as if each colorful heart was the show of his affection. Pink, silver, gold—he used every glittery color he had, filling the margin with love-struck decorations.

He paused, tapping the pen against his lips thoughtfully before scribbling, «You’re my favorite everything», right under your name. The ink shimmered in the dim light, catching his eye in a way that made him grin.

He felt ridiculous, like some love-struck teenager, but he didn’t care. This was for you, even if you’d never see it. A quiet, glittery tribute to the person who made the galaxy feel a little less dark.

A soft knock startled him, and his head snapped up, his heart skipping when your voice came through the door.

“Anakin? You still awake?”

Scrambling, he slapped the diary shut and stuffed it under his pillow, cheeks burning as he tried to change his expression into something casual. “Uh, yeah! Just… meditating!”

When the door slid open and you stepped in, his breath hitched. You were in your sleepwear, hair slightly tousled, and that soft smile on your face made him melt. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Meditating, huh? With glitter on your fingers?”

He looked down, cursing under his breath at the sparkling pink smudge across his thumb. “Uh… yeah, it’s a new technique.”

Anakin Skywalker who has a sketchbook, where he draws A LOT of things. Podraces, you, ships, speeders, random people on the street

Anakin Skywalker who once brought you flowers after a mission;

He trudged through the Jedi Temple’s halls, boots barely making a sound on the polished floor as he fidgets with the bouquet in his hands. Well, bouquet was a generous term. It was more of a sorry-looking cluster of flowers, their once-vibrant petals now limp and pale, some barely clinging to their stems. A petal fluttered to the ground just as he took another step, and he stopped mid-step to glare at it, like he could will it back into place.

He groaned softly, running a hand through his messy curls, smearing a streak of dirt across his cheek. This had seemed like a good idea earlier. Why does everything he does fall apart before it even gets to you? His pout deepened as he plucked out the most shriveled flower, tossing it to the side with a defeated sigh.

Finally, he reached your chambers. Standing outside the door, he took a deep breath, smoothing down his tunic with his free hand and rearranging the flowers one last time. Maybe if he held them at just the right angle, you wouldn’t notice the sorry state they were in.

The door slid open, and there you were, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your expression softening the second you saw him.

“Ani?” you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

His voice was unusually sheepish as he held out the flowers, eyes darting everywhere but your face.

“I, uh… I picked these for you. On my mission. But, um… they didn’t exactly survive the wait.”

You looked down at the wilted bouquet in his calloused hands, a few petals already scattered on the floor at his boots.

“They’re perfect,” you said softly, reaching for the flowers.

He blinked, pout fading into something almost hopeful. “You don’t have to say that. They look terrible—”

You cut him off with a kiss, lips pressing to his tenderly, hands resting on his chest. He stiffened for half a second before melting into you, his arms wrapping around your waist, the bouquet forgotten as it dangled by his side.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him again for good measure.

He huffed, but his cheeks were pink, his free hand gently stroking your back. “I just… wanted you to know I was thinking about you. Even while I was out there. I saw them and thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you assured him, cradling his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over the dirt smudges on his cheek. “And I love you for bringing them to me, even if it meant walking through the Temple like this in the middle of the night.”

Anakin Skywalker who sneaked out with you to lower levels of coruscant;

As you passed by a flower stall, the vibrant colors caught his attention. He paused, eyes scanning the rows of flowers, before reaching out and plucking two purple blooms—one light lavender, the other a deep, rich violet.

“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, flashing you a smile as he walked back to you, holding the flowers gently.

“Here,” he tucked the lighter lavender flower behind your ear. Fingers lingered on your skin just for a moment, a little touch, a little enough to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled softly, cheeks flushing.

He grinned mischievously, then slid the darker flower into the breast pocket of his jacket. "For me," voice low, teasing.

You stared at him, smile widening as the warmth spread through you. “Now, that’s a perfect match,” you whispered, giggling.

“Mm-hmm,” the grin on his face stretched even wider. You could see the mischief dancing in his eyes, the way his lips curved up as if to say, «this is my favorite moment ever»

“Got it,” you said with a laugh, pressing your hands together like you were taking a picture in the air.

Anakin's face softened for a moment, and then a gleam sparkled in his eyes. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding his hands in front of him like he was about to snap a photo, just like you did. He mimicked your pose, grinning widely “Got it,” he repeated with a smirk.

Anakin Skywalker who as a young baby used to give you flowers from Jedi temple garden;

“This is for you!” he’d chirp, holding the flower up as if it were the most precious gift in the galaxy.

You’d kneel down to his level, heart melting into a puddle at how shyly he’d avert his gaze, cheeks tinged pink. “For me? It’s beautiful, Ani.”

His smile widened, bright enough to rival with the Coruscant sun. “I thought it’d look pretty on you,” he’d mumble before stepping closer, his small fingers fumbling to tuck it behind your ear.

Affection swelled in your chest as his fingers brushed against your skin, before he’d pull back to inspect his handiwork with thoughtful expression. “There,” he’d declare softly, looking utterly pleased with himself.

Your little arms would wrap tightly around his neck, voice muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you, Ani. You’re my favorite Jedi, you know that?”

“You’re my favorite everything.”

Anakin Skywalker who would eat most of your food he'd find in your chambers

Anakin Skywalker who smells like vanilla

Anakin Skywalker who loves when you stroke his back in the morning while he's still sleepy and just nuzzling to his pillow;

Soft, golden glow of the sunrise gently filtered through the curtains in your chambers , casting a gentle illumination across the side of the room. Anakin laid sprawled across the bed, body entangled in sheets. His breathing was slow and steady, tousled curls sticking to his forehead in a mix of shadows cast by the night and the faint morning light. You, propped up on one arm, tenderly stroked his back, fingertips gliding over his skin while time to time pressing gentle kisses to his bare shoulder. The sensation stirred his body slightly, and he shifted beneath your touch, acting like a contented puppy who curled up to enjoy the affection.

his words laced with a lazy, sleepy drawl. "Don’t stop," he murmured, a soft groan escaping his lips with his eyes remaining closed. With a gentle smile, you continued your gentle caresses, tracing small circles across his back, watching him shift and sigh while his muscles relaxed under your touch.

But as you took your hand away to change your position, he stirred once more, rolling onto his side to face you. His eyes were half-lidded and clouded with the remnants of sleep, a soft, pleading expression in his tone. "C'mon... more... please," his hand reaching out towards you, pulling you closer, fingers grazing along the sheets. You let out a soft chuckle, but without hesitation, drew closer to him and your hand shot out to find itself in his curls. With delicate fingers, you ran them through the soft strands, lightly massaging his scalp, causing a small hitch in his breath.

Anakin Skywalker who read tons of books, watched a lot of videos about gardening all to make you proud that he could seed tulips and make them grow

Anakin Skywalker who secretly sips on your coffee, always muttering that «sharing is caring»

Anakin Skywalker who makes «your mom» jokes

Anakin Skywalker who constantly hacks their stats in every video game he plays

Anakin Skywalker who uses the word «fuck» like a comma.

Anakin Skywalker who definitely has a roblox account and even though he's a softie, he bullies some kids there;

He logs in with the most ridiculous username, something like DarthSlayer69, and his avatar is over-the-top—dark cape, glowing red eyes, and a lightsaber accessory. He’s spent way too much time customizing it because, of course, he has to look intimidating.

And then? He enters some innocent game like Adopt Me! or Brookhaven and immediately starts causing mayhem.

"Get off my property, kid," he types in the chat, standing in front of a house he didn’t even buy.

In Tower of Hell, he’d purposely push people off platforms, then type: "Too slow. Guess you weren’t strong enough."

If anyone dared to clap back, he’d go full into fighting back; "Do you know who I am? I’ve fought in wars. You’re just a noob with bad Wi-Fi."

When you walk into the room while he’s cackling at his antics, you took one look at the screen, and roll your eyes.

"Anakin, are you bullying children again?"

"No, angel, I’m teaching them a valuable lesson." He'd say too smugly

Anakin Skywalker who uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner yet still has the softest hair ever, which obviously makes you mad because you have to use tons of products to make your hair look decent.

Anakin Skywalker who fixes your lightsaber too often;

Anakin leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, as he watched you sheepishly place your lightsaber in front of him. His expression was equal parts of amused and exasperated

"Again?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you fiddled with the hem of your tunic. "It... broke."

"It broke," he repeated, tone dripping with mock disbelief. He picked up the hilt, turning it over in his hands like inspecting some troublesome droid. "No, sweetheart, you broke it. What did you do this time? Smash it against a rock? Use it to pry open a door?"

"I didn’t!" you protested, immediately crossing your arms in self-defense. "I was fighting, and—"

"And you lost control," he finished for you, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You know, lightsabers are meant for precision. Not..." He gestured vaguely, as if mimicking you wildly flailing the weapon around.

Your face flushed at that, and you jabbed a finger at him. "Are you going to fix it or just stand there and tease me all day, Master Skywalker?"

At the sound of his full title, he grinned, as if it alone was enough to satisfy his ego. Setting the hilt down on the bench, he reached for his tools. "Oh, I’ll fix it. Like I always do. But you know..." He shot you a sly glance. Uh, oh.."If you keep this up, I’m going to start charging you."

"Charging me?" You blinked, incredulous. "With what? We don’t even use credits in the Order!"

He leaned in closer, smirk deepening. "Not credits, sweetheart. Favors." his eyes roamed down and up your body

Your stomach did a little flip "Favors?"

He nodded, picking up a small tool and starting to carefully disassemble the damaged saber. "Mm-hmm. Maybe you take over my chores for a week. Or you could cook dinner for once instead of ordering ration packs. Or..." He set the tool down and leaned in again, voice dropping to a near-whisper, eyes darting down to your lips. "You could just kiss me every time you break it."

you scoffed "That’s a ridiculous system," you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when he leaned even closer

"Is it?" he murmured, breath warm against your skin. "Seems fair to me. I put in the work, and I get a little reward."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. "Fine," you relented, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his in a soft, quick peck, and you felt him smile against you.

When you finally pulled back, he looked far too pleased with himself.

"See?" tone smug. "Much better payment than credits."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

[under-loch-n-key]

I know it’s been a while since I post so here’s some Hazbin art. I may upload some more Lucifer and Alastor stuff in the future. I honestly gave up on this because my app kept crashing so it’s kinda messy in some places and a bit all over the place.

This takes place after season 1. Lucifer is trying to heal Alastor’s wound and senses a foreign energy in him. Then a bunch of arguing later, he finds out that it’s Lilith. So, then it clicks for him as to why Alastor was/is at the hotel.

I’m currently working on a fic of it so if you’re interested in reading it, maybe I’ll continue it. I’ll just have to see how my motivation is. [,:

—

I do make ship art of them but as an aroace person, I don’t think I’ll be making any NSFW stuff of them because idk if I feel comfy about that. I’ll just see what I’m personally comfortable with in the future though! If I do, I will NOT be anything too graphic or intense because yeah, no.. the art that will be uploaded of them will mainly just be crack/chaotic art and fluffy, domestic stuff of them. Lol.

Soooo, anyways, enjoy my phone doodle! I cramped my fingers drawing this and wanted to chuck my phone across my room because I had to restart this drawing multiple times because my sketchbook app would crash and wouldn’t save anything. QvQ 💛

(This is also gonna be a mini-comic so this is just the first panel of a very short comic thingy. Lmao.)

—

(Also, side note, if you don’t ship it, that’s fine. However, please do NOT attack me or any other shippers in reblogs or comments with the statement of us betraying the aroace community or something like that. I am Aroace myself and it’s hurtful to be told that by people who I share a fandom with. I am on a similar spectrum as Alastor and it’s very hard for me to develop those kind of genuine attractions but that doesn’t mean that myself or other aroace people are not capable of those things. I feel infantilised when I see non-aro and non-ace folk speaking up on our behalf. I don’t mind it, per se, but when they act like they are the final say of our community, that’s where I personally take issue. If I am offended by something, I will speak up, I feel like I’m being treated like a child when people do stuff like that.

I do not personally need a non-aroace person speaking up on my behalf. I’m not offended when I see ship art regarding the character of Alastor. I DO get offended when people completely erase his asexuality, act like he has no idea has his anatomy works/infantilise him, erase his boundaries, etc. if you’re making art and fics with care and consideration toward his identity then I’m completely okay. Just be respectful.

I have seen/read some NSFW stuff regarding that character where the artist does handle it with care and respect. I have seen others that.. well.. don’t do that. Lol.

If someone is being genuinely disrespectful toward my community then please say something but DO NOT harass people over simple domestic SFW fanart. Just be nice to people please!!!! I will turn off comments or remove the comments if you attack people over a ship. Know that I am NOT the final say either. This is my personal input and opinion and do not take this as gospel!)

Art is meant to be loved and enjoyed. So, just enjoy and be kind to people please! 💛💛

[duhshereadz]

Timebomb but in college:

The art studio was quiet, save for the low hum of a fan spinning overhead and the gentle scratching of pencils against sketchbooks. The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows, casting golden rectangles across the hardwood floors and catching on the vibrant streak of blue in Jinx’s hair as she leaned over her sketchpad.

Jinx was anything but conventional. Her style was chaotic, a mess of doodles and scribbled phrases scrawled in every direction. But there was a charm to her chaos—a story hidden in the erratic lines and overlapping colors. She chewed on the end of her pencil, her leg bouncing under the table. Her combat boots tapped against the chair leg rhythmically, breaking the silence.

Across the room, Ekko sat at his own table, head bent over his work. His dreads were pulled back into a loose ponytail, a single strand hanging rebelliously in front of his face. He was meticulously shading a cityscape, every detail in the foreground and background placed with intention. His style was the polar opposite of Jinx’s, and yet they fit together in a way neither could fully explain.

He glanced up, his dark eyes catching on the figure across the room. Jinx, deep in thought, looked like she was concocting something in that chaotic brain of hers. Ekko smiled faintly and shook his head before going back to his sketch. But a few seconds later, his pencil stopped mid-stroke.

“Hey, Powder,” he called, the name slipping out naturally, teasingly.

Jinx’s head shot up, a smirk already forming on her lips. “Don’t call me that, stopwatch,” she fired back, her voice carrying easily through the quiet room.

Ekko chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What are you working on over there? Another masterpiece?”

Jinx held up her sketchpad, turning it around dramatically. It was an explosion of colors and swirling lines—figures and objects barely distinguishable from one another. Somewhere in the chaos, he could make out the faint outline of a figure mid-leap, surrounded by jagged bursts of energy.

“Wow,” he said, leaning forward with mock-seriousness. “I think that might be your best yet. Totally screams ‘I didn’t do the homework.’”

Jinx laughed, loud and unapologetic. She dropped the sketchpad onto the table and leaned her chin in her hand, her blue eyes sparkling. “What about you, huh? Still drawing buildings like you’re auditioning for some boring architecture firm?”

Ekko spun his sketchbook around to show her. The cityscape was breathtaking, with towering buildings and intricate shadows cast by streetlights. But in the corner of the page, there was something new—a tiny figure sitting on a rooftop, her hair whipping wildly in the wind. The detail was unmistakable.

Jinx blinked. “Is that…?”

“Yup,” Ekko said, grinning.

“Me?” she asked, leaning forward as if to get a closer look. Her voice was softer now, her usual sharpness replaced by something almost shy.

“Who else would it be?” Ekko shrugged, trying to sound casual. But the slight flush on his cheeks gave him away. “You’re always on my mind anyway. Figured I’d sneak you into my city.”

Jinx stared at him, her usual snark momentarily failing her. Instead, she tilted her head and let a genuine smile tug at her lips. “You’re such a sap, stopwatch.”

“And you love it,” Ekko shot back, closing his sketchbook and standing up.

He walked over to her, pulling a chair next to hers without asking. Jinx didn’t protest; instead, she scooted over slightly to give him room. He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her sketchbook again.

“You know, it’s messy, but it’s got heart,” he said, tapping the page lightly. “Just like you.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, but her cheeks turned pink. “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d punch you for that.”

“You can punch me anyway,” Ekko said with a laugh, nudging her shoulder.

They sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, their sketchbooks forgotten. The golden hour light bathed them in warmth, and the hum of the fan became a soothing background melody.

“Hey,” Jinx said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah?” Ekko turned to her, curious.

“You ever think about how weird this is?” she asked, gesturing between them. “Like, you’re all… grounded and smart and stuff. And I’m—”

“Brilliant and unstoppable?” Ekko interrupted.

Jinx froze, then laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re incredible,” he said, his voice softer this time.

For a second, the air between them changed. Jinx’s usual bravado faltered, and Ekko’s confident grin softened into something more earnest. He reached out, hesitating for only a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“You’re really something, Jinx,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For once, she didn’t have a sarcastic reply. Instead, she leaned forward, her forehead pressing lightly against his.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she murmured before closing the gap between them.

The kiss was gentle but electric, like a spark igniting something long overdue. It was messy, like Jinx’s sketches, and deliberate, like Ekko’s cityscapes. Perfectly them.

When they pulled back, Jinx was grinning, and Ekko couldn’t help but laugh.

“Guess that means you’re stuck with me now,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes soft.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ekko replied, resting his forehead against hers.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the room in shades of orange and pink. Their sketchbooks lay abandoned on the table, but neither of them cared. In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of them—and the beginnings of something extraordinary.

[frutigerfischl]

SHE PAINTS HER FINGERS WITH A CLOSE PRESCISION

⌗ SONG┆the ballad of the mona lisa ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ TAGS┆gn reader, could be read as platonic or romantic, art club member reader, art club member teri, wholesome ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ NOTE┆im getting back into tawog since i used to watch it a lot when i was younger :3 ★ ₊ ˚⟡

Teri hadn’t meant to join the art club.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she hovered by the corkboard outside the library, her paws tightening on the strap of her messenger bag. The bright flyer pinned to the center of the board had caught her attention: Art Club Meeting – All Skill Levels Welcome! The letters were bold and playful, doodles of brushes and palettes spilling across the corners.

It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t draw—she could, in her own neat, precise way. She was meticulous, and she liked that about herself. But “art club” conjured images of loose, messy creativity, the kind she couldn’t quite reconcile with her penchant for straight edges and perfect proportions.

Still, something about the flyer tugged at her.

She stood there long enough that you noticed. You were stepping out of the library, a smudge of cerulean paint on your cheek and a sketchbook tucked under your arm. Your voice broke through her spiraling thoughts.

“You interested in joining?”

Teri jumped, her heart giving a startled lurch. Turning, she found you smiling at her—a little lopsided, a little curious, but kind. Up close, she could see the faint ink stains on your fingertips, the worn edges of your sleeves, and the glint of a paintbrush poking out of your pocket.

“Oh, um…” Teri stammered, suddenly self-conscious. “I was just… looking.”

You tilted your head, considering her. “Well, if you’re thinking about it, you should come by. It’s not scary or anything, I promise. We’re more about having fun than being perfect.”

Her cheeks flushed—an odd, papery sensation for someone made of paper—and she ducked her head. “I don’t know if I’m very… fun.”

“Everyone’s fun,” you replied, matter-of-fact. “You just have to find your thing.”

Teri hesitated. She wanted to say no, to shuffle away and bury herself in her usual routines. But there was something in your voice, in the easy warmth of your smile, that made her nod before she could think better of it.

The art room was brighter than she’d expected. Sunlight streamed in through wide windows, spilling across shelves crowded with jars of paint, stacks of sketchpads, and brushes of all shapes and sizes. The air smelled faintly of turpentine and pencils, a sharp but strangely comforting scent.

You greeted her the moment she stepped inside, waving her over to a cluster of tables pushed together in the center of the room. The other club members were already busy, heads bent over their projects, laughter and chatter filling the air. Teri clutched her bag a little tighter, feeling like an outsider.

“Hey,” you said softly, guiding her to an open seat beside you. “I’m glad you came.”

Teri managed a small smile, her nerves buzzing. “Thanks for inviting me.”

You slid a piece of paper toward her, along with a tin of colored pencils. “No pressure or anything. Just start wherever you feel like. If you need help, I’m right here.”

For a moment, she simply stared at the blank page, paralyzed by the possibilities. But then, tentatively, she picked up a pencil and began to sketch. The lines came slowly at first—neat and deliberate, the way she always worked—but as the minutes passed, she started to lose herself in the rhythm of it. Her paw moved almost instinctively, creating clean, graceful strokes.

You watched her, quietly impressed. “You’re really good at that.”

Teri blinked, startled by the compliment. “Oh… It’s nothing special. I just like… keeping things tidy.”

“Are you kidding? That’s awesome.” Your grin was genuine, your enthusiasm contagious. “Seriously, you have such a steady hand. I can’t draw a straight line to save my life.”

She laughed, a soft, papery sound that surprised even her. “Maybe you’re not supposed to. Straight lines are kind of… boring, aren’t they?”

“Exactly!” you said, and she realized you’d been waiting for her to see it, to let go of the rigid expectations she’d built around herself.

Over the next hour, you and Teri settled into an easy rhythm. She sketched with quiet focus while you painted with bold, sweeping strokes, occasionally glancing over to admire each other’s work. You asked her questions—about her favorite colors, her favorite subjects—and she found herself answering without hesitation. There was no judgment in your voice, only curiosity.

By the time the meeting ended, Teri felt lighter, as if a weight she hadn’t even noticed was finally lifting. You walked her to the door, the last rays of sunlight spilling across the hallway.

“So,” you said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Think you’ll come back next week?”

Teri hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she nodded, a small smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Yeah. I think I will.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice warm. “It’s nice having you around.”

As she walked home that evening, Teri felt a quiet thrill fluttering in her chest. Maybe she wasn’t the kind of person who splattered paint or sketched wild, messy lines. But she was learning how to let loose.

[dearly-somber]

Can I Be Him | b.yd & w.hr

-> pairing. bang yedam x reader (f), watanabe haruto x reader (f)

-> genre. angst, f2l (friends-to-lovers), teenage angst & drama, hurt/comfort

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1009

-> warnings. jealousy, very messy feelings

-> a/n. This song is such a banger 😪

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. ???

-> fin. ???

-> edited. Mon., Dec. 16th, 2024 @ 00:54

-> divider credit. @only-ranpo, @saradika-graphics

A few weeks had passed since Liza and Yedam had gotten back together, and you had been actively avoiding Haruto, feeling guilty for kissing him so out of the blue.

You were sitting at the end of Yedam's bed, leaning against the wall with a blank page in your sketchbook propped up against your knees. Yedam and Liza were cuddled up on the couch, all laughs and smiles as the three of you did homework together. You had been third-wheeling every time you went over to Yedam’s house to study or do homework because Liza was always there.

You tapped your pen against your paper, sighing. You snapped the book shut, feeling a petty satisfaction when they both jumped at the sound. Yedam looked confused as you slung your backpack around your shoulders, smiling falsely while walking towards the door. "I'll leave first."

"Don't you wanna spend more time with us, unnie?" Liza asked with a pout. She made your blood boil.

You forced a smile. "I'd rather not third-wheel, thanks." You laughed humorlessly. "Enjoy."

"Y/N—"

"Leave her, Dami. If she wants to leave we should let her," Liza said, her voice chirpy as she sighed over-dramatically.

You bowed to Yedam's parents with a kind smile on your way out, closing the front door behind you. Your phone went off with a message notification, so you checked it, hoping it was Yedam.

————————————————————————

Unknown

————————————————————————

hello?

is this y/n noona?

————————————————————————

Noona?

————————————————————————

Unknown

————————————————————————

yes this is Y/N.

who’s this?

it’s haruto!

i got your number from one of your classmates

i hope u dm?

[Y/N saved +82-X-XXX-XXXX as Haruto😒]

i guess not

what do you want?

do i need a reason to message u? 🤨

i wanted to ask if we could meet up tmr?

sorry, i’m booked.

typing...

gtg.

————————————————————————

You put your phone back in your pocket, biting your lip before walking back home in a mixture of jealousy, annoyance and confusion.

You sat down in the middle of your bed and doodled while listening to music, belting out Can I Be Him by James Arthur.

Can I be her?

•••

You left for school on your own the next morning, not wanting to spend yet another day third-wheeling your walk to school. It was at your locker, just as Yedam was about to call for you and ask why you weren't at the usual spot, when a different voice caught your attention.

"Noona!"

You turned your head with an exasperated sigh but stopped in your tracks to admire Haruto in his white turtle neck, the colors on the sweater (black, white and yellow) complimenting him nicely. You cleared your throat, trying to look at him with some hint of annoyance but failing miserably.

"What do you want, Haruto?"

"Can you stop avoiding me? I’m just trying to get to know you better," he pleaded. Being a head taller than Yedam (and therefore two heads taller than you), he was kind of intimidating, but the way he was pouting made you wonder why you found him so intimidating in the first place.

"If I stop avoiding you—"

"—and let me sit with you?"

You glared as the younger boy grinned childishly. You sighed, unable to fight his charm. "And let you sit with me, will you stop blowing up my phone?"

Haruto nodded eagerly. You rolled your eyes but waved him off, nodding your silent agreement to his terms. He smiled happily, thanking you.

"When did Ruto get your number?" Liza asked from behind you, venom rolling off of her tongue.

"A few days ago," you said, the boy in question standing behind you and smirking cheekily at the couple in front of him, towering over your shoulder.

"Why?" Yedam asked, his voice strangely emotionless.

"Because she ki—"

You smacked your hand over Haruto’s mouth and look at him, petrified. "Why doesn't matter! You two" —you pointed at Haruto and Liza— "need to get to class. Come on, move!"

You waved them away, breathing a relieved sigh when they rounded the corner to their next class.

"What was that about?" Yedam asked suspiciously, a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach as he remembered you interacting so casually with the person he disliked most.

"It's nothing," you reassured him. "C'mon, we're gonna be late for class." You smiled as you dragged him to Chem, momentarily making him forget his suspicion.

It was during lunch that Yedam grew… annoyed. Haruto had taken the seat next to you without so much as an apology, his blood boiling each time you laughed or pushed Haruto because of something stupid he was doing or saying. Yedam had never heard you mutter the word 'cute' as much as he had during that 15 minute break, and to Watanabe Haruto, of all people. He joined the three of you at your table for the next three weeks, and the two of you grew closer and closer until eventually you started dating. It didn't sit right with Yedam, though he managed to hide it pretty well.

That's why he found himself glaring angrily at the two of you leaning against the wall at the foot of his bed, wishing it was his head laying on your lap while you read, wished your fingers were carding through his hair.

"Ruto-ya," you cooed, the black haired boy humming drowsily, his eyes staying closed. "Stop moving so much," you chastised, a smile creeping up on your face when he whined childishly. You pinched his cheek before continuing with your earlier ministrations.

Yedam sighed deeply, realizing for the first time in a while that he had messed up by not asking you out just because he had been scared to screw over your friendship in the process. He smiled half-heartedly at Liza who was trying to get him to smile, not knowing the real reason behind his mood. He looked at you and Haruto with a sad smile, holding back from thinking about how it would feel to have your hands running through his hair...

Can I be him?

<- prev | next ->

[epicswagdivorceguy1]

OK! here's some of my dragon ball ocs. under a readmore because i um. talked a lot LOL

despite the fact i spend every day thinking about her, i actually only have like. one. digital drawing of cuco so! you're getting a bunch of sketches of her instead

she was my first dragon ball oc, and her original reference was my very first post on tumblr! i love her very much <3 even though she's a horrible person LOL. she's honestly just a typical saiyan, just living to conquer planets for the frieza force and beat people to death (which is an activity she takes a lot of joy in). she dies in the destruction of planet vegeta, but that doesn't stop me from putting her in situations. i think she was also the first in a long line of buff butch lesbian ocs who are awful people

tamo and pelas are two of my time patrollers in xenoverse 2! all i have are mspaint doodles of them. here's a comic i made last year of them. pelas is the angry one and tamo is the one with sunglasses (the two in the corner are plasta and kerry- i'll talk about them in a moment)

tamo is a saiyan who loves pissing people off and generally being very annoying (she's also a huge coward who will dip from a fight if she's losing, which is very often because she always starting shit LOL). she's childhood friends with my icejin time patroller, popsicle. they're both pictures here + a solo sketch of her. she looks a lot cooler than she actually is

pelas is a majin who used to be evil or something and then got her ass beat and only joined the time patrol to save her ass. she's incredibly cruel and angry. she's always telling people to kill themselves and shit lmao

together these two feed off each others worst impulses, tamo is always goading pelas into getting pissed off and trying to attack her (so they can spar! yay! also she thinks its funny). pelas completely despises tamo and honestly wants to kill her (and probably has tried)... but at the same time she kind of loves having someone around who she can just be mean to (who won't report her to hr for death threats and bullying). she'd never admit this though.

also i did that enemies chart with them a month or so back! i'd change a couple things now but i think it gives a good idea of what their dynamic is still lol

plasta, popsicle, kerry, and walla are my other time patrollers. i like to imagine them, and pelas and tamo, all hanging out lol. here's some mspaint and sketchbook doodles of them (also gogeta is there in the last one)

they're all featured in the second pic, in it's: kerry and walla at the top, plasta, tamo, and pelas in the middle, and popsicle is at the bottom (he's a short king).

plasta is a weird looking earthling, who is either an android or a parasite that took over a human body.. IDK.. SORRY.. i need to develop her more. they seem pretty serious and focused but honesty it's pretty nervous a lot of the time. she is just a normal woman, okay. here's a drawing of her from last year

popsicle is an icejin/frieza race or whatever. he's just really nice and upbeat ^.^ has a very "i can fix them" vibe for everyone. he just wants people to be the best version of themselves! he's pretty emotionally intelligent and can intuit pretty well how people are feeling, but can be kinda nosy and overbearing even if he does mean well. i think hes fighting for his life to be tamo and pelas' couples counselor

kerry is a namekian who comes from some bog planet. my only thought while making them was bog monster LOL. they seem really intimidating, but they're actually a huge sweetheart. they're really passionate about farming and nature.

walla is a majin who loves wrestling! she's a huge showman-type, and treats fighting like it's, well, a show haha. he is also a catgirl. i made her on a whim so he's kinda underdeveloped.

ALSO here's my one single splatoon oc who has a reference (even if it's messy and like a year old.

they're emo and think turf wars are stupid, they'd much rather go paint stuff.

OK THAT'S ALL!!!! THANK YOU FOR READING ALL THE WAY THROUGH!!!!!!!

You should post about your OCs!

(eyes shoot open) I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS ITS LIKE A MONTH OLD IM SO SORRY. but youre right i SHOULD post about my ocs

[luveline]

if you want, maybe roan is just like doodling around and stuff yk and she draws a typical like family pic but eddie notices that beside the both of them there’s another messily drawn figure and it’s the reader :( <3

HELL yeh ty baby ♡ fem!reader

Eddie's a good dad. Fuck anyone who thinks otherwise, he's good at this shit, and if Roan wants to go get burgers every Friday he's gonna take her. His daughter deserves the world.

Including greasy, messy quarter pounders from Benny's diner.

"What's that one?" Eddie asks, pointing over Roan's half eaten plate with his pinky finger at her drawing, the table between them covered in crayons from her open pencil case.

"This? This'a doggy," she says, like it's obvious and he's the worst.

"I knew that," — he did not know that — "I meant want kind of doggy."

"Oh. That's our dal-dalm-damnation!"

Eddie grins at the idea of a dalmatian named damnation. Fucking sweet. "Dalmatian, babe." He wipes his fingers in a napkin so he can lean over and pick sesame seeds out of her hair and off of her little sweater. "I thought you wanted a St. Bernard. The rescue dogs with the medicine around their neck, you remember?"

She points at the dalmatian's side where she's drawn a cross in red crayon. "He is a rescue dog."

Eddie hums appreciatively and picks up his burger again. But the time he's finished Roan has moved onto a clean page. She sits there tap tap tapping her crayon against the corner.

"What do I draw?" she asks.

Eddie grabs his napkin. "You didn't give me a look at the first one!" he exclaims, stacking her plate on top of his.

Roan struggles. Her sketchbook is a simple plain workbook from Bradley's with thin paper, but the size of it is still heavy in her small hands. She turns back to the page she'd just been decorating and brandishes it against her chest proudly.

"Holy sugar, that's awesome," he praises, and means it. "Is that Princess Peony?"

"The damnation is saving her," Roan says.

"I can see that."

He reaches under the table for his backpack. Inside, he carries around all the bare essentials necessary for successful kid outings — spare clothes, Teddy the pink bear with one ear, a hair brush, hair ties, her rain mac. And, the most important thing, wet wipes.

"Alright, c'mere. Let me wipe that face."

Despite contrary instruction, Eddie walks around to sit on her side of the booth. He does hands first, then crayons caught in the crossfire, then her face. She hates it, but when she was a baby she loathed it. He takes her scowl as an improvement.

"Why don't you draw... Maybe, a new family portrait? We can put it on the fridge like the first one. You can even include your damnation, if you like."

"He isn't real, dad."

"Just draw what's real, then. Can I trust you while I go get drinks?"

She makes a haughty little face that he takes for an eye roll and leaves to get drinks, though he's not really leaving. He's about ten feet away from her at all times and he keeps his eye on her.

He only looks away for what can't be ten seconds, and she's gone. His heart skips as his eyes scour the diner.

"Dad?"

Eddie flinches, his coke tipping over the side and down his hand. "Oh, sh- sugar," he says, kissing his fingers dry. "Babe, you scared me."

Roan stands at his knee with her drawing in hand. She wields it up at him insistently.

"That's for me? Swap?" he asks, offering her a small glass of juice.

Roan takes the juice in one hand. Eddie quickly takes her drawing so she can use both hands, watching the pride as she shuffles carefully back to the table. She doesn't spill a drop.

Eddie shakes out the drawing and sips his coke. The edges are ragged along the top where she's torn it free.

Front and centre is Roan. She's drawn herself with big long eyelashes and a full head of curls, total dad-win, in a huge cloud of pink he assumes is her very best princess dress. To her left is Eddie, same head of curls, long lashes amiss but a huge smile on his face, and to Eddie's left is Wayne. He looks especially dapper, a coffee mug in hand.

It's a great likeness.

And then there's you.

Your hair, your favourite shirt. Roan has drawn you with lovely eyes and a heart next to your smile, messy but so obviously you.

He beams like a fool as he sits down next to her again. She's already turned to a new page in her blook.

"Roan, this is amazing. And... That's Y/N."

"Duh," she says.

"Duh," he repeats, dumbfounded.

He wonders what he's supposed to say here. Telling her you aren't part of their family wouldn't be true. Telling her you are might set a precedent you aren't ready for. He worries it over for a while and takes despondent swings of coke, listening to Roan scribbling furiously beside him.

"Done!"

Eddie looks down. He gawks.

"Baby, is that..."

She points with her crayon enthusiastically. "Tada!"

"It's a castle," Eddie says carefully.

"That's where a princess gets married."

"And that's..."

"That's Y/N!"

There you are. Smiling, a bouquet of blue, red and yellow flowers on bright green stalks in hand. A prince stands beside you in a suit with a bright red scribble across his chest like a sash. The prince also has long, curly hair.

"Where are you?" he asks.

Roan points at a purple blob with black hair in the background. "I'm the flower girl."

Eddie throws his arm over her small shoulders and drops a firm, smacking kiss against her round cheek. "That's where you're wrong, bub. You'd be right next to me, my best girl."

She giggles infectiously at him, his words and breath tickling her face.

"Dad, don't be stupid. It's s'posed to be a man with you."

"Make an exception? Just this once it can be a girl. Pretty please?"

She smiles at him. It's a much older expression than she should have, like she's entertaining his fantasy, like he's the kid. "Okay, dad. I will be the best girl."

Later, when he tells you the story, you get super indignant. His stomach turns to a pit as he worries he's overstepped, but you say, "How is that fair? I want her to be my best girl."

"Maid of honour."

"What's the difference? You got her all this time completely by yourself, and you're not gonna share her on our wedding day?" Your voice drifts off as you dissapear into the bathroom, though he can hear you muttering, "Ridiculous."

He hides his electric blush with a pillow over his face. When you return, you climb half on his chest and force the pillow away to dot spearmint kisses against his pinked cheeks.

-

more eddie and roan (and reader!)

[messers-moony]

Moony Wants, Moony Gets | R.L

Paring: Young!Remus Lupin X Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Moony has a natural wanting for his mate making his possessiveness visible the closer it gets to the full moon. 

He was always jealous. Blame it on the wolf in him, if you will, but Remus Lupin was highly possessive. Especially over what’s his - maybe not even what’s his but what he wants. She was gorgeous and his perfect mate—long tuffs of h/c hair and gleaming e/c eyes that glittered in the limelight. There was one problem with her, though—one major flaw in her mess of perfection. 

Y/n L/n, cunning, ambitious, resourceful, and charismatic. 

That was the problem. Y/n was a Slytherin, and Remus was a half-blood Gryffindor. To make matters worse, her closest friend was Regulus Black - Sirius Blacks brother. Remus’ best friend's brother. But Remus couldn’t help it. Her voice was like a siren's call, and her beauty was a rival to Aphrodite, but she had the wisdom of Athena. Y/n was a perfect balance of everything. 

Closer to the full moon, his possessiveness became more of a problem. Sirius was noticing the low growl that would erupt from Remus whenever someone stepped close to Y/n. James saw the lingering glares left on any male within a six feet distance of her. Even Peter observed his green eyes turn a shade darker as if someone mixed black paint into his usually bright eyes. 

Y/n sat at the Slytherin table, a cup of coffee beside her as she spoke intently with Regulus. Meanwhile, a Gryffindor across the Great Hall was glaring daggers at the younger Black brother's head. Sirius nudged him, grabbing his attention. 

“Mate, you’re growling again.” Sirius whispered, and Remus’ cheeks turned pink, “Am not.”

James gave an unconvincing grin, “Mhm, totally.”

“I was not growling.”

“I think you were.” James replied, “Definitely was.” Sirius added. 

Remus sighed, pushing his plate away to lay his head on the table, “What’s got Moony all wound up?” James queried, Remus, deadpanned looking at the laughing girl across the room. 

“I think I know.” Sirius simpered, “Do you now? Don’t be a tosser.” James stated teasingly. 

“Turn around. Slytherin, talking with Reggie.” 

He turned and looked back at Remus with his jaw dropped, “No- fucking- way.”

“What?”

“She’s the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, you tosser!” 

“Oh…”

James snorted, “Yeah, oh.”

“Looks like Moony found his mate.” Sirius winked, and Remus groaned, “Shut up about it, will you?”

“Never.” 

It felt weird. James wouldn’t shut up about how brilliant Y/n was, how the Slytherin’s Quidditch team was able to make plays that no one else would’ve even thought about. Sirius wouldn’t stop offering to talk to Regulus to see if maybe he had any intel on her. Strangely enough, Peter was silent but had a guilty look on his face. Guilty sufficient for Remus to comment. 

“Why do you look guilty, Wormtail?” Remus inquired, and Peter's cheeks flushed pink, “She- Y/n isn’t- um….” 

“What do you know that we don’t, Peter?” Sirius queried, his voice harsh, “She isn’t what you think. That’s all I’m saying.” Peter stammered out nervously. 

James tilted his head at the blue-eyed boy, “And you know this how?” 

“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“Woah! Hold on a second!” Sirius exclaimed in shock, “When did this happen?!”

“Back in fourth year.” Peter informed, “She seemed nice enough until you start to get serious with her. Y/n’s sharp-tongued and extremely ill-tempered.” 

Sirius sniggered, “Sounds like Moony.”

“Oi!”

“Sorry!”

“So, what does this mean for Remus?” James questioned further, “It doesn’t mean anything. Just be careful. I don’t care if you date her. Means nothing to me.” Peter replied, putting his hands up in innocent. 

Remus stared at Peter with curiosity swirling. How much did he truly know about Y/n? How did he manage to date her? Nonetheless, it didn’t mean anything to Remus because Moony wanted her. What Moony wants is what Moony gets. Later that evening, after prefect patrol, he padded into the library to dismiss any working students. But there were only two students inside. They sat in a secluded corner of the library. Regulus Black and Y/n L/n. 

Was it envy? Was it jealousy? He didn’t have time to ponder. Y/n had her head laid on Regulus’ shoulder and both her arms wrapped around his one arm. Regulus had leaned his head on top of hers, wavy black hair intertwined with her h/c hair. Both their eyes were closed, apparent they were asleep—potion and Transfiguration books placed on top of the wooden table along with an open sketchbook. 

What was he supposed to do in this situation? Wake them up? If it was just Y/n, perhaps he could’ve, but Regulus was with her, and Regulus wasn’t too fond of Remus for being friends with his older brother. Madam Pince had already left for the night, either choosing not to disturb them or didn’t notice them. Remus saw the inkpot beside the Potions book, almost empty. It was Y/n’s inkpot because the ink wasn’t black. It was a deep grape color. 

Remus sighed and grabbed the ink from his bag, charming it the same color. Discretely he took hers and swapped it out with his. Leaving a piece of parchment on top. Remus left the library without another word. Waking them up was a risk he’d rather not take. But now, he laid in his bed wondering how she’d feel about the new ink on the table. 

The sun began to rise, and Y/n’s body felt stiff. Carefully she began to stir awake after noticing a body beside her. Opening her eyes, everything seemed blurry, but after blinking a few times, she recognized the library books and the person's scent beside her. Regulus, her best friend. Y/n yawned and pulled away from him, about to begin packing their belongings, but she noticed a piece of parchment that lay on top of her ink. 

“Noticed you were out. You can have mine.“ 

Y/n hummed appreciatively. She didn’t know who gave her their ink, but she was eternally grateful for them saving her a trip to Hogsmeade. Y/n poked at Regulus’ right side, and he eventually stirred awake. His curls disheveled and his body just as stiff as she was. Regulus opened his eyes and met her e/c ones. 

“Did we fall asleep?” He groaned, and Y/n scoffed, “What do you think, dingus?”

“No need to be mean this early in the morning, Merlin.” 

“Someone saw us last night, though.” Y/n stated, and Regulus noticeably jumped, “Who?”

She shrugged, “Not sure, but they left me a new pot of ink.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

Both best friends cleared their table. Y/n put her Potions books away, and Regulus put his Transfiguration books away. Y/n stared at the writing on the parchment she had received earlier that day. The handwriting was almost unrecognizable. It was messy and sprawled. Whoever this was did not have good handwriting or was in a rush. But the day carried on. In Potions, Y/n sat in the front while the Marauders sat in the back. Remus stared holes in the back of Y/n’s head. 

“She’s gonna notice if you keep staring at her like that.” Sirius muttered. 

Remus sighed and continued to write his notes. If he tried hard enough, he could make out her elegant purple ink from here. It always baffled him why she chose purple over traditional black - suppose it wasn’t really any of his business, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The familiar sketchbook sat on top of the desk as well; he could see doodles in the same deep purple color. Occasionally Regulus - who sat beside her - would nudge her to pay attention, gaining an annoyed groan. 

Potions class always smelt weird. It was a mixture of glue, seaweed, and salt. It was also constantly humid. It brought shivers down Remus’ spine. He noticed it doing the same to the Slytherin girl at the front. Remus craved nothing more than to wrap his robe around her, but he was too late. Regulus was already doing the action, which earned him one of her jaw-dropping smiles. Unconsciously he began growling again. This time, James smacked his arm. 

“Mate!” 

“Sorry…” 

Dinner was even worse. Y/n had yet to remove Regulus’ robes leaving him in a button-down white shirt and the usual uniform. Sirius was surprised at his younger brother's chivalry but didn’t speak much. The full moon was that night, and as dinner progressed, Remus only gained more possessive. James and Sirius gave up on trying to scold him. It was apparent Moony wanted - no - needed her. Slytherin captain be damned, Y/n was going to be Moonys. 

A dry winter night. As usual, Remus walked to the Whomping Willow with his three friends following him. Tonight was normal in the sense of his friends turning into their animagus,’ but the odd thing was letting him out of the shack. The werewolf and the dog ran around the forest together. The rat and stag lagging behind, allowing the two animals to play together. But a stick-breaking brought the attention of the werewolves to the new person. 

He could smell them. Hear their blood running through their veins. Their heart pounding at a standard rate. The dogs barking could be heard, trying to distract the werewolf. The scent was female, and she wasn’t scared. Instead, the girl approached with confidence sticking out her hand to the wolf. Padfoot barked loudly. Prongs backed down, looking nervous. Wormtail squeaked loudly. But she came with confidence and assurance. 

Moony growled, “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She cooed, “You’re safe with me.”

The h/c haired girl knelt on the grass, “No need to be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Moony hesitantly put his snout in the girl's palm, making her grin. His fur was soft to the touch, and his eyes turned soft. Her smile was beautiful, and Moony nuzzled his hand into her soft palm. She chuckled and patted him more. Padfoot barked excitedly and ran to her, but the werewolf started to bare his teeth again. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m yours.” 

The wolf seemed to calm down at her words allowing Padfoot to approach her. Smiling brightly, she pet both animals, “It’s okay, love.”

“My name’s Y/n. I didn’t know that there was a werewolf here.” Y/n greeted as Moony curled up beside her, his head on her thigh, Padfoot doing the same on the other side.

She caught sight of the other two animals and whistled for their attention, “C’mere.”

Prongs and Wormtail approached nervously, but Moony gave no sense of protectiveness. Y/n’s words resonated in his head over and over again, “I’m yours.” The wolf fell asleep beside her, Padfoot doing the same. Prongs approached, and Y/n patted the top of his head. Wormtail sat in front of her knee. They seemed at peace. It was the first time Moony ever felt at ease. They’d be lying if it didn’t make them happy. 

Y/n stayed up all night with the animals. Despite the animals not knowing, Y/n knew that the stag, rat, and dog were animagus’. The werewolf was unknown to her. The following morning when the stag turning into James, rat into Peter, dog into Sirius. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to find out who the werewolf was. When he turned back into a human with his clothes tattered. Y/n continued to run her fingers through his hair as he slept. 

“Morning, Marauders,” Y/n commented. 

“You’re- you-“ James stuttered.

She laughed, “Apparently, your moony really likes me.”

“Would you mind petting me again?” Sirius teased, “Maybe.” Y/n retorted, winking. 

Sirius laid down on her other thigh that Remus wasn’t laying on, smiling; she ran her fingers through their hair, “You’re a godsend, lemme tell you.”

James and Peter sat in front of Y/n, “What made you want to take a walk in the forbidden forest last night?”

“Just wanted some air.” Y/n answered. 

Remus groaned and began pushing his head onto Y/n’s hand, “Morning, Remus.”

The Marauders and Y/n had never seen him jump up that fast, “What- you- I- uh-“

“Didn’t know you were a werewolf.”

“I- uh…”

“Sirius, for the love of God, get off her lap.” James interject, slapping the boy on the head playfully, “But it feels so good.” Sirius drawled. 

James grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the grass. In the process, Sirius got a mouthful of dirt and grass, “You wanker.”

“Did I- erm- hurt you?” Remus questioned shyly, “Nope, I'm completely unscathed.” Y/n smiled reassuringly. 

Remus turned to his friends, “Nope! Y/n saved us all.”

“Are you hurt?” Y/n inquired to Remus, who took a quick look at himself, “I- I don’t believe so….”

Sirius blew a raspberry, “Thank Merlin! Dragging you to the hospital wing is bloody exhausting.”

Silence filled the forest until Sirius smirked, “You know, mate when you were talking about Moony wanting her. I thought you were joking. Turns out you weren’t.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, Merlin…”

Y/n chuckled, “Well, Moony is rather cute if I’m honest.”

Remus’ cheeks blasted with pink, and Sirius laughed. James shook his head with a big grin, and Peter looked amused with Y/n’s confession. Without hesitation, Y/n leaned over to kiss Remus’ cheek, making him hide his face flustered. She stood up and ruffled Sirius’ hand, gently rubbing her nails across his scalp, making Sirius try to lean into her palm. They all stared at her except for Remus, who was equally embarrassed and flustered. 

“If you’re looking for a fifth Marauder, I know the Slytherin common room password.” Y/n winked as she walked to the castle. 

[comm-caribou]

Chapter Three: I’m Going Home:

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Bullying (let me know if I missed any!)

————

With one more day of leave left, Hardwire rounded up his ever changing circle.

“Come along,” he urged, “don’t you boys want breakfast?”

“I guess it’ll fix this hangover,” Shadow mumbled.

“Anyone seen Fury?” Mirage asked, “I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“He went back to the ship,” Cooper scrolled through his datapad, “something about getting familiar with the layout.”

Mirage mumbled something, resulting in Boomerang elbowing him.

“Let’s just go get breakfast,” Hardwire tried, “okay, lads?”

They nodded, and followed him down the street.

“Hey, Coyote?” Shadow moved up next to him, “where’d you go last night?”

“Ran into Commander Thorn,” Coyote grinned, “we helped a riot trooper land a date with bookkeeper.”

Boomerang snorted, “that sounds fun.”

****

Juliette hummed as she erased a misplaced curl, then began doodling more of Squirrel’s blond messy hair.

“Don’t forget his dark circles,” Cosmos teased.

“I won’t,” she giggled.

As she shaded under Squirrel’s eyes, her radio switched to an incoming call. Without looking, she answered expecting one of her troops and was stunned to see a Twi’lek.

“Hi,” Nala smiled in a jumpsuit, “I hope I’m not bothering you!”

“N-no,” Juliette closed her sketchbook, “we’re not doing anything right now.”

“We?” Nala rocked on her feet, “is Cosmos and Fang with you?”

“Just Cosmos,” Juliette felt herself faltering, “Fang isn’t… he’s…”

Cosmos placed a hand on her back, “it’s okay.”

“Oh no,” Nala covered her mouth, “did something happen? Are you okay?”

Juliette lowered her head, letting Cosmos hold her.

“He passed away yesterday,” Cosmos explained, “nothing we could have be done to save him.”

Nala hid her face, “I never would’ve asked if I knew. I really am so sorry, Juliette.”

“It’s not like you could’ve known,” Cosmos assured, “we’re still a bit shocked it happened. How are you?”

“I’ve been alright,” Nala rubbed her arms, “been singing, as usual. I was hoping because Miraca and the others are gone for the week, maybe you’d consider swinging by? I miss you. Anneliese misses you too.”

“You want to?” Cosmos whispered, “go home and see friends?”

No Miraca? That would make going back easier for the day.

She nodded her head.

“Great!” Nala blew a kiss, “I’ll tell Anneliese you’re coming!”

As soon as she hung up, Juliette broke down crying.

“Starlight,” Cosmos hugged her, “don’t cry.”

“I never… thought about…” she hiccuped in ever pause. “I don’t want to talk about it… I don’t want to… explain…”

“I know,” Cosmos kissed her forehead, “you don’t have to. If anyone asks, I’ll interfere. Okay?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes.

“We should go ask Hardwire,” Cosmos stood up, “let him know we’re going off again.”

She got up, getting her armor that was stacked next to his.

Cosmos got up, “I’m going to go grab something from the barracks, then I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Juliette began putting on the gray beskar.

Moments after he left, leaving her door open, she heard boots on the metal floor just walking down the opposite hall. She got on her chest plate, imagining it was one of the Navy soldiers getting breakfast.

When they passed by her door, she noticed the dark armor.

“Fury?” She went to the door, “what are you up to, silly ARC? Why aren’t you exploring the city?”

Fury turned to her, shrugging, “kind of loud.”

“I guess you’re right,” Juliette agreed, “so, why you wandering around alone?”

He uneasily kicked the floor, “just… still finding my place here.”

Cosmos returned with his pack, “hey, Fury.”

“Hi,” he responded quietly.

Maybe he’s shy, Juliette concluded, maybe getting to know a small group would help him find his footing.

****

The staff was really nice, especially the young females. Boomerang could imagine Hardwire was thinking it was something to do with them being appreciative for doing their duty to Republic.

Boomerang leaned into Cooper’s ear, “betcha he doesn’t even realize the waitress is hitting on him.”

“Obviously,” Cooper smirked as he cut into his flapjacks. “No question of it.”

A pale skinned girl with golden locks was leaning on the booth beside them, watching him fix her broken comm.

Such a genius, Boomerang sighed, but so incredibly dumb.

The diner door jingled, and their favorite little Mandalorian walked in with her helmet tucked under her arm.

“I heard a rumor I’d find you boys here,” she said leaning on the back of their booth, “how’s breakfast?”

“Delicious,” Coyote complimented.

“Would you like to join us?” Hardwire offered.

“No, but may I have a quick word, Commander?” Juliette asked.

“Of course,” Hardwire closed the comm, passing it back to the waitress, “there you go. It’s all fixed now.”

The waitress took it, curiously eyeing Juliette as Hardwire followed her out.

“You don’t think she’s quiting,” Shadow whispered.

“No,” Cooper wiped his mouth, “she’s a lot of things, but she’s not a quitter.”

“But Fang died,” Mirage reminded, “it’s not the same as when other clones die.”

“She just needs time,” Boomerang said, give her a week and another lovestruck idiot will be asking her on dates.

Coyote craned his head, “what’s Fury doing with them?”

Mirage snapped his head around.

The whole table’s mood shifted, watching Mirage’s carefree composure become stiff and rigid.

“Maybe he’s in trouble?“ Shadow offered, “getting reprimanded perhaps?”

“No, that con artist is shaking the Commander’s hand and smiling,” Mirage twisted his napkin, “he’s getting some sort of praise.”

“Mirage, relax,” Cooper ordered.

Mirage tore his napkin apart, teeth bared as he watched the conversation.

“They were getting along better when Fury was on Kamino,” Boomerang sipped his drink. “Just saying.”

“He should’ve stayed on Kamino,” Mirage growled, and Tracks scooted closer to the window away from Mirage.

The door jingled, and Hardwire came back in humming to himself as he rejoined the group.

“So…” Boomerang decided to be the one to break the silence, “what’s going on?”

“She’s going to Vixnix for the day,” Hardwire picked up his fork. “Her friend asked her to come visit.”

“Fun.” Coyote smiled. “Might be good for her.”

“Just her?” Cooper asked.

“No,” Hardwire continued eating, “Cosmos and Fury are going.”

Mirage slowly turned to him. Voice low and threatened, he asked, “what did you say?“

****

Should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Hardwire immediately regretted answering Cooper’s question the minute he saw the hostility in Mirage’s eyes. He could practically see the blood boiling inside him as rage coursed through his usually cool tempered ARC.

“Mirage, she invited him,” Hardwire stated, “she is trying to be nice to him.”

“She probably can see he’s being ostracized,” Cooper stated. “It’s her typical reaction to want to try and befriend him.”

Mirage swore under his breath, and clumsily hopped over the booth escaping the table, and picked up his helmet and kit off the second booth their gear occupied.

“Where are you going?” Boomerang slid out of the booth.

“Going with,” Mirage said, “it’s also typical of her to allow me to tagalong if I ask.”

“Mirage, leave him alone,” Coyote called.

Hardwire got up defeated, we can’t stop him. His mind is already made up.

“Boomerang,” Hardwire picked up the medic’s helmet, “keep him in check.”

Boomerang blinked, then slowly took his helmet, “okay.”

Sorry, vod, you’re the only one he’ll listen to.

****

“General! Wait!”

Juliette paused, waiting a minute before a familiar ARC tripped over his feet and body slammed the wall.

“Oof! That’s got to hurt,” Cosmos grimaced.

“Are you alright?” Fury offered him his hand.

Mirage swatted it away, “I’m fine.”

Fury stepped back, looking hurt for only a split second.

Juliette approached Mirage, “what are you running for? Do you need something?”

“We wanted to know if it’s okay to go too,” Boomerang walked over, “that is, if you don’t mind us coming with?“

Juliette turned to Cosmos, who shrugged.

“It’s up to you,” Cosmos said, “we could say they’re more deserters we rescued, maybe Fang sacrificed himself for them? Whatever story you want.”

It wasn’t too far from the truth, so she nodded her head.

“Come along, boys,” she took Cosmos’s hand, “let’s go to Vixnix.”

[emf005]

Like Me For Me Part I

Marauders Era

Sirius x Reader

Warnings- Talk of abuse, mentions of death

Part 1 out of 3

“Come on, Y/N/N,” your friend pleaded. “You know you want to go.” You thought about it for a moment as you five walked down the hall.

“No. No, I really don’t think I want to. Not in the slightest.” She huffed and folded her arms across her chest. Marleen was one of the prettiest and most popular girls in your grade. You were the opposite of her. Her and the rest of your friends actually.

It wasn’t that you weren’t pretty. You were actually drop dead gorgeous. You liked that, actually. That you were pretty. But you also hated it. You hated that you were pretty and fashionable with every fiber of your being.

Your friends knew you were fashionable and beautiful, and they often urged you to show it like you helped them do. Be popular like them and not just ‘that one girl… oh what's her name?’ But you liked being her. Big glasses, that were faker than fake, oversized sweaters that hung off your body and leggings and sweatpants and jeans that barely even touched your legs they were so baggy. If you weren’t in your school uniform that's what you were in. And your hair.. Well… that was always just naturally a mess. You normally just threw it up into a messy bun or ponytail.

“Come on, Y/N. The winter ball this year is supposed to be the grandest there has ever been! You already promised to help us get ready. Why won’t you just go?” Cora asked. She was a Hufflepuff in your year. Yet again, very pretty and very popular.

“Because I don’t want to. You all have handsome dates who are beyond thrilled to go with you and I have my studying in the library.”

“Which will be closed!” Darla squeaked. She was a small rounder Ravenclaw with deep black hair. But still considered one of the prettiest girls in school. She was going with Peter Pettigrew to the dance. And you couldn’t have thanked god enough. That's all she talked about was that boy.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” you hummed and flourished your robes dramatically to leave and head to the black lake for Care of Magical Creatures. “Good afternoon everyone. I’ll see you all at dinner. Perhaps.” You added at the end, sounding mysterious. You may or may not read far to many mysteries in your spare time.

Your friends rolled their eyes and left you to go down on your own. As you headed down you saw your other close, very beautiful, friend Lily Evans.

“Lily!” She turned and waved at you. You jogged down the hill and skidded to a halt before you tripped over a rock. “What's up?” You asked, not even close to out of breath despite the distance you had just run.

“Nothing. You?”

“Oh, just headed down to C.O.M.C.”

“No one is going to start calling it that,” she hummed as you two continued down.

“I know. And I don't really care, either. It just gets tiring saying that entire phrase all the time. C.O.M.C. is much easier in my opinion, thank you very much.” You said with a nod. She rolled her eyes.

“Whatever you say. Are you coming to the Christmas dance?”

“Absolutely not. I’m still helping you with hair and make up though, right?”

“You’re letting her help you with your makeup and hair, Evans?” Narcissa Black scoffed. You looked down at your shoes and frowned. So you may dress down to take attention away from yourself. What you didn't realize was that that would call attention to other things. Girls would then call you ugly and unstylish, which was the biggest insult of them all. But at least men weren’t prancing on you, right?

“Oh shove off, Narcissa.” A voice called from a ways down the path. You looked up and saw Sirius, James, and Remus looking over their shoulders at the three of you. “Like you have much more style.”

Was that supposed to be a double edged sword? Was that supposed to stab both Narcissa and I?

You couldn't help but wonder.

Sirius Black. The boy you have had a crush on for the longest time. I mean, who hasn’t. Marleen often told you to go try your luck, but you wouldn’t dare. You were far too cautious for that. Love and dating was a matter you took very seriously. You weren’t just going to date because you wanted to. You wanted it to be a mutual liking of each other. Well, a bit more of a mutual liking.

And while you had a crush on that boy, he had a reputation of just dating to date. Or one night stands or one week stands. Even just leaving the girls crushed and throwing themselves at him long after they had broken up. But you didn't like him because he was popular, like them. Or that he was gorgeous (Because he certainly was). No. You liked him because of his personality. Which, with teen hormones, wasn’t something that often happened.

Narcissa sneered at her cousin but made no further comment and just stormed away. You turned your attention to the ground again and scurried off towards the class. You weren't shy. You normally would greet the boys even though none of you really talked. Except you and Remus. You two were quite close. But Sirius’ comment stung a bit and you really couldn't face them. Lily and the boys watched you go and she sighed with a shake of her head.

The boys watched in confusion. Well, James and Sirius did. Remus knew what had happened, he had actually been the first to figure out your crush on him, even before you had figured it out yourself. He knew that you were quite fashionable and took pride in your work of your friends’ appearances when they asked you to do their makeup or their hair. Or even help pick out a perfect outfit that was both stylish and practical for their activities for the day. And he also knew how much comments like ones both Sirius and Narcissa made hurt you.

“What was that about?” James asked as he watched you drop your bag and settle on the grass away from the class. “I mean. I know we aren’t her friends really, but she normally gives us a wave or something.”

“Aren’t you her friend, Rem?” Sirius asked, slinging his bag further on his shoulder as they headed down to the lake.

“Yeah.”

“Is she mad at you?”

“No.”

“Then what was that about?”

“Missing the attention?” Lily teased. She had Remus had suspicions that Sirius actually liked you back, but had never mentioned it to more than each other.

“Ha!” he scoffed. “I have all the attention of the entire school, Evans. Why would I miss one from.. What?” She and Remus were looking at him the exact same way. “What's with the looks? Why is it coming from the both of you? James, help, I’m scared.” James laughed. Lily rolled her eyes and walked past.

“Your boyfriend can’t save you from everything Sirius. Least of all me.” She called over her shoulder and headed to sit by you. You had pulled out your sketchbook and were doodling.

“Am I the only one lost?”

“No.” James responded, making googly eyes at Lily. Both Remus and Sirius rolled their eyes at that.

“Who can tell me about Nifflers?” Your professor asked. Your hand shot up, Lily’s followed a moment later. You two rivaled in everything school related. (a healthy, playful rivalry. It was one of the reasons you two were friends.) Though, you were often a bit better at Care of Magical Creatures and she was often better at Potions.

“Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Nifflers are attracted to shiny objects, which make them wonderful for locating treasure, but that also means that they can wreak havoc if kept (or set loose) indoors. Nifflers in general are usually harmless. They are native to Britain and live in burrows as deep as twenty feet below ground, the females can produce six to eight young in a single litter. Nifflers have a pouch on their bellies which holds far more than at first seemed possible, like the effects of an Undetectable Extension Charm on a container. Nifflers were gentle by nature and can even be affectionate towards their owners. However, they could destroy belongings looking for sparkly objects, and for that reason it is inadvisable to keep them as a house pet. It is also implied that they could turn vicious if provoked.”

“Very good, Miss. Y/L/N. Ten points to Gryffindor.” You smiled at the praise, needing a boost today.

“Try Miss. Know-it-all.” You heard someone grumble from beside you. No one else, including Lily, heard. But being mocked like that was still better than the so-called “praise” you would get if you let your beauty show through.

You tucked your knees closer to your chest, unknowing of the eyes on you from the other side of the area. They were not mocking or angry or anything even close. They were actually close to admiration, if not that.

You sat by Marleen and Lily in the Great Hall eating dinner. Classes had finally ended, which meant no more classes. Only Homework. But yours was nearly done. You had gotten the majority of it done during Divinations. You “did not possess the gift” so she wouldn’t really assign Homework. And were you complaining? Hell no.

“You should really come, Y/N. Please! It will be so much fun! We would all have dates and we could all dance the night away in the arms of our dashing men,” she said dramatically. You rolled your eyes and shoved another fork full of food into your mouth.

“I don’t have a date yet,” Lily said.

“Didn’t James ask you and you said you’d think about it?” She didn’t say anything. The poor boy had finally grown up enough to win some of Lily's approval. If she would just say yes!

“Oh, just say yes to the poor boy, Lily! He looks like a wounded puppy every time you reject him. Especially this year! Just go as friends or something.”

“Only if you go.” You rolled your eyes and shoveled another fork full into your mouth.

“Firstly, no one would want to go with me. Second off, everyone already has a date.”

“Sirius doesn’t.” she hummed and you started to choke on your food, making her and Marleen laugh. The table looked over at the three of you, including the Marauders.

“NOT-Cough cough cough cough- funny!” You wheezed out.

“I’m being serious, no pun intended.”

“Lily, you heard what he said today during COMC. Think! No one wants to go out with me.”

“Oh come on, why would-”

“Mar, I swear to god, if you finish that sentence,” you stood up dramatically, “I will shove a fork down your throat and open up your voice box, got it?” She just stared at you with wide eyes and nodded. “Good. Good night ladies. I have work to do.” You left the table and headed to your dorm.

“So, who are you asking, Pads?” James asked, tossing the snitch he had nicked from the broom shed in the air.

“Probably just float around and dance with everyone. Everyone already has a date.” He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. Remus then got a terrible idea.

“Why not ask Y/N?”

“Huh? Why?”

“She doesn’t have a date yet either.”

“That's shocking,” they heard someone mutter from down the table. They glared in that general direction.

“Nah. More fun to just float around.”

“Come on, Sirius. It could be fun. She seems alright.”

“Not my type.”

“You have a type? I thought your ‘type’ was female?” Remus asked. Sirius threw a bread roll at him.

“Yes. And she is not it. Smart is not exactly my idea of a fun night. If you know what I mean.” The three boys rolled their eyes at Sirius.

“She’s not like that, Sirius.” Remus defended you. “Come on. You might have fun. And it's not even like-” they heard coughing from down the table and looked down to see you choking on your food. Remus face palmed. He was trying to get you a date with your crush and here you were choking elegantly on your food.

Remus looked away from you and back at his friend, about to try and convince him again when he noticed something strange. Sirius had his cup raised to his lips, hiding his mouth, but he could still see the corners upturned and a fond look in his eyes.

The damn dog does like her! He thought.

“Come on Sirius. For me? She’s my friend and I want her to relax for a night.” Remus attempted. Sirius pulled his gaze away from you and turned to his friend and sighed dramatically.

“Fine! I’ll go ask her now. Happy?”

“Yes. But she’s leaving.” Sirius’ head whipped around just in time to see you disappear from the great hall. He grabbed his nearly finished sandwich and dashed out of the doors after you, eating as he went. He looked around once he got to the entry hall.

Where had you gone? And how had you disappeared so fast? He continued dating as he made his way up to the common room. Perhaps you had decided to turn in for the night?

In truth, Sirius didn't think he had a crush on you. He had an interest. Not a crush or an attraction. You were foreign to him. He knew Remus was right. You weren’t a stuck up know it all. And despite the crew you hung around, you didn’t act like a popular girl. You were kind, and smart, and the few jokes he had heard you cracking were genuinely funny that he had caught himself laughing quietly to himself at a few.

He had been out with Marleen a few times, but that wasn't anything to either of them. Just a bit of fun between friends. A date here, a make out session there. All because… Why not?

He caught you as you were headed up the stairs to your dorm.

“Y/L/N!” You turned and smiled a quiet smile at him.

“Hi, Sirius.” You leaned on the banister. “What's up?”

“You don’t have a date to the dance yet, do you?”

“No but-”

“Well do you want to go with me?” You were speechless and skeptical.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah I do.”

“Sirius, no. You really don’t. I bet Remus talked you into it.” His silence was enough of an answer for you. “Figured. Go with someone you want to go with, Sirius. You don’t want to damage your reputation by going with a muggle born nerd like me.” you smirked and turned to go upstairs again.

Had he just been turned down? That did not sit well with him. Not one bit. And the way you had called yourself a muggle born nerd didn’t sit well either.

“I actually do, and I won’t take no for an answer.” He saw you sigh.

“Sirius. I’m not even going.”

“But you're staying for break.”

“Well, yes…”

“So you could if you wanted to.”

“Well, yeah but-”

“So why don’t you want to?” You didn’t answer. How did you tell your crush that you didn’t want to look pretty or that you were too scared to be seen in anything other than sweats and a sweatshirt in public? “Y/N?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

“So, are we going?”

“I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Not at this stage in the game.. No.” You sighed.

“I’ll meet you at the staircase by the Great Hall at eight. No earlier. Deal?”

“It's a date.”

“No. It's a compromise. Technically I’m doing James a favor and your doing Remus a favor. I’m helping your friend and I’m helping yours. Good night, Sirius.” You left the room and disappeared into your room to write to your mum and ask her for one of your dresses from home. You weren’t about to ruin Sirius’ reputation to save your own hide. What could go wrong?

Sirius had been left speechless. That was the strangest and most reluctant acceptance that had ever happened to him. He was definitely giving Remus hell for this, though this did make him a bit more curious about you, he wouldn’t lie… to himself at least.

First Chapter done!! Make sure to check back for part 2!!!

[pileoftrashsstuff]

Fic because I felt like it, mainly dialogue tho

"Pile what are you doing?" "Doodling."

James curiously peeks at the sketchbook in their hands. "Designs?" He wonders aloud. Seeing messy sketches and little phrases filled with little concepts.

The colorless humanoid nods. "Yeah been doodling a lot lately and hopefully it pays off, ya know?" They pick up the eraser next to them and erasing a little mistake. "I wanna make a little world through art. And hopefully, I'm satisfied with the designs I have created."

James huffs, he twirls the end of his black curly locks between his fingers. "Speaking of designs, how come you haven't drawn anyone other than me?" He smirks. "Am I your favorite?"

"Well you are an easy design choice. " Pile says, chuckling at the offended gasp their design gave them.

"Easy? Well I'm taking offence to that good sir!" He crosses his arms with a huff.

Pile continues drawing, flipping across pages to compare and contrast designs. Numerous pencils (that are most likely stolen) and inking pens (that are stolen) littered the area next to them. An empty pencil case sits next to Pile.

"Can you summon an engine?" James asks, getting bored with the sounds of paper and clicking pens.

"James you know how hard they are to summon right?" Pile huffs as they start another sketch. Messy linings and vague ideas slowly coming out as the pencil moves.

James rolls his eyes. "No not that, I meant the small ones. I want little James Junior."

Pile takes out a different pencil, this one having little gold markings and seems to be made of silver. They draw a little lively shape, the lead seems to be a glowing white.

"Two beady little eyes, a cute little nose, a lovely red livery, and a big personality. There we go." The drawing glows brighter as a little red being floats from the light. It grows to the size of a cylindrical pillow and drops itself on James' lap.

"Hiya there, little bud!" James affectionately pets it, laughing lightly at the little squeaks he gives him. "Been so long since you have used the other sausage engines. How come?"

Pile sighs, putting away the pencil and organising the mess a little. "Well, it would be a hassle having to deal with multiple sausage engines. They look like they can't move but trust me when I say that you will find them in the most unlikely of places."

"Eep!" The sausage engine squeaks as his cheeks are squished. James silently mulls over his thoughts. "You know... This is weird."

"Well what is weird?" Pile asks. A little note written above the sketch and a close up of a design not far from it is messily assembled.

"We are not in any setting, Pile."

Pile looks up and sees nothing but white. Stretching endlessly throughout. "Huh..."Pile shrugs. "Seems like it."

"Why are you so nonchalant over this?" James asks, calm for someone asking such a question. Little James squeaks as his nose is lightly flicked.

"Well, you are a humanized design of a red engine from the classic series and you are currently petting what we like to call a sausage engine as well as talking to a colorless humanoid figure like me who has the ability to summon beings from a sketchbook." Pile breathes heavily after the long tangent.

"Seems like it." James scratches the sausage engines underside, feeling him relax into his lap. "Is this the work of an artist or an author?"

"It depends really." Pile flips to another page. "An artist can draw their design on anything they want, a blank canvas or a drawn room."

James looks back at the sketchbook. Drawings of moving figures and various arrows littered the page. "And an author?"

Pile shrugs. "I'm not an author, bud. I'm merely an amateur artist so take what I say or said with grains of salt." A different pencil is chosen, this one having a stubbier lead for thicker lines.

"It depends on what the author is writing, fanfiction or their own world. They can give you vague ideas or let you explore the world through their own concept art. Some would describe the room to you in detail or the setting they chose is already familiar to you."

James just realized something. "Wait so are we both vaguely clothed or naked?"

"Well it's up to who ever is reading this I guess." Pile shrugs. "We don't even have genitals nor clothes when we were first introduced. Hell, my design does not have a mouth yet I'm still talking aren't I?"

"Huh, never knew that writing can kick your imagination into an overdrive." James faces them. "How was your first experience to writing your own world?"

Pile feels a shiver down their spine as they remember their early days of writing. "It was interesting when I started writing stories of my own. Having to struggle with a lot of dialogue and info-dumping on occasion. Grammar can be your worse nightmare if your don't thread carefully. Especially since I wrote everything down through paper and pencil so one drop of liquid could ruin hours upon hours of work."

"But you enjoyed it very much?" James huffs as his companion wriggles off of his lap. He moves to Pile's lap, wriggling until he relaxes into a comfortable position.

Pile pets the little thing on their lap. "Yep, the countless other little fanfictions and stories say that much. Can't believe I dedicated actual time to the little worlds but it proves to be an exciting adventure when I feel like returning."

Pile looks at the endless white. "You know... I am actually glad that I used to write so much. It helped me revisit countless worlds and works that other people made, from which I have drawn so many inspired ideas from." They look at James.

"And you are now part of those endless worlds. As a humanized engine that is."

James puffs his chest out. "Of course I am! Aren't I very memorable? Practically the first problematic fave everyone seems to have."

"I should bring the others back but I'll save it for a different time." Pile gives the wriggling sausage engine back to James.

"How many did you write?" He adjusted his hold on the little thing, chuckling at the indignant squeaks.

"A lot but we can trudge down the lane when we want to."

"When you want to." James laughs as Pile lightly shoves him.

"Oh shut it you. I want to go home and work on the new designs now."

"Well..." James pats their back. "See you then."

"Alright."

[vegalocity]

11/41 from 76 Kisses for Spicynoodleshipping? (Love that secret relationship trope!)

Prompt meme

11. “I almost lost you” Kiss // 41. Forbidden Kiss   

Ya love to see it! 

--

They had rules. They had precautions. Stipulations and regulations and all the damn words that Red Son had thought up when they'd discussed how they decided their arrangement should go. And those rules, precautions, stipulations and regulations, Xiaotian was fine with. It wouldn't be ideal if his friends found out about them, of course, but it would be downright dangerous if Red Son's family found out. So it was okay. No matter how any times he'd called himself a fucking idiot for wanting to grab hold of Red Son's sleeve and ask him to stay when he began to get dressed again, it was okay. Because that soft sincere smile that only showed up in the dark of the night—only when the barriers of 'heroes and villains' fell away and the two of them were allowed to simply breathe together—never ceased to make his insides feel like goop and his head light and dizzy.

They had to be extremely careful with any and all physical evidence of their escapades, Xiaotian had to hide the dozen doodles he'd unconciously scribbled into his sketchbook in a shoebox haphazardly wedged between his bed and the wall. Red Son had presented him with a burner phone for proper coordination some time ago, and that stayed wrapped in a T-Shirt he didn't really wear anymore except when in use. They were careful, they were subtle, outside of the quiet of the nights, they were enemies. And sometimes sure, it felt like a lot, the secrets and the hiding, it made him want to do something very stupid, like beg Red Son to leave his parents, they don't treat him right anyway.  To essentially run away with him. But that was stupid. To ask Red Son to give up his everything when Xiaotian wasn't willing to do the same would be terribly selfish.

But all of that didn't matter anymore. No not anymore. Because Red Son had made his choice. The demon clan that his parents had decided to make allies with for access to their magical artifacts, in exchange for access to their (Red Son's) Technology, had been a topic of idle pillow chatter for a time during their meetups, Xiaotian had turned out to be the only person Red Son could speak to about it without being reprimanded for questioning his parent's choice in allies. And Red Son had NOT liked these guys from day one. Words like 'slimy' and 'scheming' were common as he'd paced about the messy apartment, still full of frustration that wasn't ready to turn to lust just yet as he'd insist that he knew this clan wouldn't be easy to handle. And he'd been right. His Parents had chosen poorly in their growing desperation for power and their allies, now armed with tech Red Son had not wanted to make for them, had decided to test it out by laying waste to the city.

And these guys were POWERFUL. It was probably the most advanced tech that he'd ever seen Red Son's handiwork on. He'd been in the middle of taking stock of himself, wondering if he could pull off the monkey mech with how drained he already was when the leader of the clan—big enough to be able to crush Xiaotian's ribcase with one hand—had went to strike.

And there was a hard shove to his side and a flash of fire, and Xiaotian had found himself on the edge of the crater he'd been thrown into instead of where he'd been in the center. Wisps of smoke clinging to his jacket and the thick smell of clove in his shirt, and Xiaotian realized that Red must have used his teleportation power on him. But if that was true then were was he-

He saw a flash of red in the demon's grasp. Red Son gripped in the demon's hand, and Xiaotian... couldn't see if he was breathing from here. He looked like a doll, hanging limp, even his hair was without its usual volume, swinging with the motions of the Demon as he sneered that he'd 'gotten in the way'.

At least when Xiaotian raced forward, he was not the only one, nor was he the most dangerous. Iron Fan and DBK were on the other side of the crater and he doubted they even saw him as they both rushed the demon. Xiaotian still didn't think they treated Red Son right, but at least he was comforted that family really did come first for them.

The two demon royals made quick work of their former ally, but it was Xiaotian that was positioned right beneath him to catch Red Son as he was shaken loose from the grip. And he knew they had to be careful, he knew this was the worst time to let stupid selfish emotions rule, his parents were RIGHT THERE. Though their attention seemed to be on having the demon pay back his crime of hurting Red Son in a pound of flesh. Princess Iron Fan spared him exactly one glance, narrowed eyes and suspicions high, but she didn't stop Xiaotian from taking Red out of the crater and onto more stable ground.

“Red! Red, come on...” He was breathing, the relief almost knocked him over. “Red come on man, wake up, let me know you're not in a demon coma or something!” he gently patted Red Son's cheek, and for once for once it seemed like he was lucky because Red Son let out a thin groan, face scrunching up as he no doubt came to with a wicked headache.

“Did... Did I fall asleep here again?” his voice was hazy with sleep and absolutely gorgeous to Xiaotian's ears. And yes, this was the worst time, and if either of his parents even glanced slightly to the side this whole thing would be up in smoke-

But he didn't care. He kissed Red Son.  Red Son's confused noises trailed quickly into a surprised yelp, and he felt those hands scramble up his arms before gripping hold of his shoulders. They parted only for a moment, and he heard Red Son's voice, barely above a whisper. “Xiaotian...?”

“How can someone so smart be so fucking stupid?!” Xiaotian found his voice rising a pitch as he pulled away from Red Son. “You could have just grabbed me and teleported both of us you didn't need to take that! You didn't even need to save me I could have tanked that hit!”

Red Son blinked twice before glancing to the side and apparently only now realizing where they were. Face paling before turning scarlet and weakly scrambling to try and escape his grip.

“Let go of me Noodle Boy! I didn't do that for you! I never trusted these men and I was going to prove to my family that they never meant us well! D-Don't think yourself special that would be Ludicrous let me go!” There was real anger there and if his parents didn't find out about them tonight Red Son would rake him over the coals for this, but...

But he didn't fucking care.

“Shut up, You almost died, and you almost died saving me.” Red Son's face softened just a bit, the mostly forced fury still in place but there wasn't an ounce of regret hidden in the mask. In fact everything about him beneath the veneer of fury read 'And I'd do it again' And Xiaotian held him as tight as he dared to without possibly hurting him further. He glanced into the crater and Princess Iron Fan was staring at them again, too far away to read.

“I don't care if it wasn't because you wanted to save me, you did save me, and you nearly died doing it, so you're gonna get this damn hug even if we're enemies!” he stated it as loud as he possibly could. He was being stupid, but he wasn't gonna ruin this for Red Son if he could. They must have missed the kiss or they would have reacted, the secret was still theirs to keep.

“I'd do it a million times over.” Red Son's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Please don't.”

--

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[thebestoftimes]

Tag Yourself as an Evak Couple Aesthetic

Evak: wearing layers, forehead touches, cheesy music, morning kisses, "I saw this and I thought of you," misty mornings, staycations, eskimo kisses, barely-contained laughter, christmas music, slow-dancing in the refrigerator light, late for class, birthday cards, small cafes, the glow of a swimming pool, background hip-hop music, "you are not alone", certainty, infinity, fogged glass, if-you-jump-i-jump, domesticity

Nicotino: christmas lights, warm lattes, stained glasses, shadow puppets, red strings, doodling, of seeing and being seen, kisses on fingertips, heart emojis, holding your breath with excitement, windy days, cozy living rooms, acoustic music, linked pinkies, smiling into kisses, floating, lightness, sing-alongs, hoping and hoping and hoping and then... receiving, "Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood," falling asleep on shoulders, quiet desperation, warmth

Elu: paint splatters, passing notes, open windows, soft blankets, fresh flowers, tracing the lines of their face, soft smiles, lazy kisses, Paris winters, rainy days, silly photos, bright laughter, secondhand books, adrenaline rushes, champagne, sleeping in, piano music, glistening eyes, "it's rotten work." "Not to me. Not if it's you," sharp tempers, gentle patience, shades of blue, love at first sight, morning sun

Davenzi: collages, filled journals, a sense of home, playful punches, gentle fingers, eye-rolls, "I fell in love with you the way one falls asleep: slowly, then all at once," birds chirping, slow dancing, cheek kisses, beanies, movie credits, picnics, exasperated fondness, road trips, daisies, Hozier, shared earbuds, exhaling into relaxing, waking up in a great mood, tingling (but in a good way)

Crisana: pink lipgloss, denim jackets, phantom touches, lingering stares, affectionate teasing, cotton t-shirts, crushing hugs, love letters, dinner dates, sharing clothes, peppering kisses, quiet listening, your favorite song coming up on shuffle, "at every table, I'll save you a seat," cotton candy, risks worth taking, happy tears, sunrises, closeness

Rosander: playlists, lingering touches, giggling, loud music, shopping trips, just-one-more-kiss, whispered I-love-yous, autumn leaves, free falling but soft landing, hair petting, whispering, Polaroids, slow breathing, "always", sighs of relief, messy sketchbooks, clean notes, intertwined fingers, leather jackets, low-lighting, shy grins, gin and tonic, empty supermarkets, crossing paths, a light hand on the small of your back, tenderness, doe eyes,