#so sketches are more like generic blobs and construction

[isaac-clarke]

Man I miss drawing-- I officially decided a couple of months ago to go on an indefinite hiatus for art to focus on improving my overall health. Eating better, more exercise...etc. Like these last 2 years my health just hasn't been great because of my habits which has made everything harder. Including trying to improve my art-related anxiety. While I'm incredibly proud to have completed the mentorship program I did with Chira, it was also REALLY hard. Partially from anxiety, but a lot of it was also my health impacting my ability to focus.

And I know trying to do both learning how to cook and eat at home (instead of frequently eating out), making an effort to be more consistent with working out, AND trying to make better art habits will be too much for me. So I know getting to a better place with my health will help with everything else.

But man. I do miss it.

[rema-rin]

Do you happen to have a tutorial on hand anatomy, or how to draw hands well? I just watched your hand/claws animation/gif and it’s incredible! I’ve tried to draw hands similar to that, but it never comes out well. :( If not, it’s ok! I hope you have a nice day! Your art is absolutely gorgeous and awe inspiring!

I have an oldie https://www.deviantart.com/remarin/art/How-to-hands-595770955

From... 4 years ago? wow it looks older,, I'd say, 1 part is definitely learning the structure, and actual anatomy ( like how long are fingers usually to the palm, how the knuckles are situated in a curved line and dont make perfectly a straight line, same with the digits, that the first section of the middle finger is the longest compared to the others etcetc, like there are a bunch of reference points i try to keep an eye on, many I do instinctually by now( which is why people so often mention the need for practice) getting a subconcious "feel" for anatomically correct structures is not smth that happens just from observation) and the 2nd part is to visualize with blobs/shapes/silhouettes as a sketch base, instead of going and draw/construct each finger separately- makes for less stiffness, and quicker drawing experience. The actual "posing" of the hand is just as important, if not more important than knowing the anatomy ( a well posed gesture will still look right even with completely wacky proportions) Learning any complex anatomy part isn't so much as finding 1 good tutorial, I wouldnt know how to properly distill everything that goes on when I draw in a single tutorial after all,, but it's about keeping an eye out for the many different ways artists draw/construct hands and trying to find which tricks fit your understanding of hands, collecting small details bit by bit. After all, there are many ways you could construct a hand and still arrive at the same result too. There's no big secret to why my hands look the way they do, I try to draw a realistic/believable looking one from memory and add claws to it - and that's it. There's some stuff that is lost in translation from drawing from memory, and using shapes/lines that feel comfortable for me. But if I were aiming for a stylized/caricature esque depiction, then I'd have to push certain shapes much more, simplify lines, use tricks, which then would need some actual explanations if people wanted to learn how to do the same. "art style guide" basically. So ask yourself, compare and analyze, what are the differences between that claw gif and your own tries? What exactly do you feel is lacking? Where do the differences originate from? - If you have a good understanding of the anatomy but it always looks stiff and unnatural, you might need to change up your sketching style, focus on "gesture", the "whole" hand instead of details // if you are ok with the general shapes/posing of a hand but it always looks off; maybe you need to check up on anatomy, skeleton structure,, check if you haven't misremembered certain placements etc That's the path of self-improvement :'> art can be a struggle, but you can always separate a big problem back into much more manageable, smaller issues and find which fundamentals applies, that might need improving

[freebooter4ever]

how do u do that where you draw like three (3) lines and it’s the prettiest snafu i’ve ever seen (like actually though do you have drawing tips/secrets you may reveal to me please am dying)

Drawing tips? Oh gosh, i dunno i feel so much like a beginner myself i doubt im qualified but ill try...so for me its all observation, obsession, and doing the same damn drawing over and over - if you look at my earliest snafu sketches i clearly barely know what he looks like, versus now i feel like i know a lot more. Enough to do silly things like construct illustrations of snafu about to have coconut guts dumped over his head by sledge without being constrained by references for poses (drawing from my head is the goal anyway). steve aoki is a good example of this actually, my first sketches of him look like blobs but after hundreds of drawings i could probably sculpt his face from memory and im very glad he never is on tumblr anymore so i can live with that embarrassment quietly. That said, every time i draw him again i still notice something new. also i will confess that for every pretty drawing you might see there are like ten thrown out scribbles to go alongside that. some particularly difficult poses i keep trying to sketch and keep giving up, especially snafu's smile or smiles in general. I actually really liked one of Eugene Sledge's quotes in The Old Breed where he says something along the lines of noticing Ack Ack's beauty and wishing he had the ability to draw it - i have that urge except i guess i act on it. my sketchbooks from college are full of shitty drawings of faces - some my friends but also a lot from tv shows, especially Robin Hood. High school it was all Legend of Zelda and Malon. When i was a kid it was disney. And i STILL feel like i know nothing about art. Does that help? Lol!

[sweatersarecomfyy]

Mister Scamander (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Summary: Reader gets separated from Newt when they are looking for dragons. She is stuck in the desert for a while before he finds her and then they have to deal with some poachers. Newt heals reader. Some angst, also lots of fluff. Happy ending.

Warnings: Blood, a little fighting, physical contact. Really nothing too bad.

Word Count: 4,481 (It’s so good!)

A/N: This is my first fan-fiction on here. Constructive criticism/compliments are appreciated. Let me know if I should do more!

“Shh. What are you doing?” I hushed him. Overjoyed to see him, but groaning to think he could have been tracked.

While on a search for dragons I had gotten separated from the one and only Newt Scamander. He was a magizoologist, whereas I was more particularly specialized in dragons. He had sought my help for discovering dragons around North America and we had been working together for a number of months. Wonderful months. Unfortunately, we had gotten separated. So one can imagine my surprise when he apparated right in front of me after a month of being alone.

“I could ask you the same thing YN.” Newt looked around, keeping his eyes down as usual. “I’ve been looking for you for over a month.”

“I’m fine, but you need to keep it down.” I whispered emphatically.

“Why?” He asked back quietly, shifting his feet on the blackened rocks.

A grin broke across my face. “Dragons.” I said simply.

His face broke into the widest smile I had ever seen, which was absolutely adorable. “Really?”

I nodded.

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen this kind before, but get this, I’ve gained their trust.” I said excitedly letting out a giggle that was reminiscent of my girly teenage years.

He looked like he was about to burst with excitement, he didn’t even care that he could be burned to a crisp within a matter of minutes. Next to do was draw and classify these dragon’s for Newt’s book. They had been so friendly to me that he figured they hadn’t had contact with humans and wizards before.

“I’ll go first just to make sure they are alright, and then I’ll introduce you.” I said, clambering up to the cave.

He stayed put as I looked in on the massive silver creatures. One mother and her two tiny dragon babies. The mother towered over me, but her babies were only about the size of great danes. She sniffed the air suspiciously.

“Hi dear.” I said caressing her snout as she bent down to me. Her children nipped at my pant legs. “I brought a friend is that alright?”

She sniffed again, and I beckoned Newt to come slowly. She shifted nervously as he stood next to me.

“Don’t worry. He is good.” I rubbed her lower jaw. I took Newt’s hand in mine and placed it on her snout, still covering it with mine so that she wouldn’t be afraid.

Excitement and happiness were both present on Newt’s face. He was even turning a bit red. I took my hand off his and backed away from the dragon leaving him to touch it alone.

“I call her Winnie.” I whispered.

Winnie’s body language softened as she examined the man in the blue coat. She nuzzled his neck and sent a small puff of steam into his hair, making it even floofier than before.

He laughed joyfully, still not believing his eyes. His smile was literally the best thing ever. “How did you do this?”

“I didn’t do anything.” I moved back towards him. “I was camping and I happened upon them.

“What happened to you?” He said, taking in my rough appearance.

I looked down, only slightly embarrassed at my ripped work pants and thinning flannel shirt. At least I had grabbed some magic soap to keep me hygienic. Being covered in grime in front of Newt was not something I wanted. “I’ve been stuck in the desert. I don’t know where my wand went.” I said patting my pockets for the thousandth time just to make sure. “So, you know, I couldn’t really apparate.”

“Ahh.” Newt backed away slowly from the dragon and reached shoulder deep into his case. He pulled out my wand.

“You had it all this time?” I said delightedly, grabbing it from him.

“Yes, well, when we got separated, in the scuffle, it must have gotten mixed up.” He looked down and clasped the case shut. “And so, well, you know, I got it but you were gone.”

Without really thinking about it I hugged him, forgetting that he wasn’t used to that, and ended up just trapping his arms to his side. I didn’t really care, I just hadn’t seen another friendly face for so long. Having known him for a long time, he knew how I was with physical contact, but I generally tried to keep it to a minimum for his comfort.

“Thank you Mr. Scamander.” I said examining every inch of the wand I had missed so much. I call him Mr. Scamander, but in my mind he is Newt, because in my mind I can admit that I like him, and in my imagination, he likes me back. I have avoided calling him Newt out loud, because I am afraid that with his first name will also come a confession of my feelings. As if if I say that word out loud he will immediately know.

“How have you survived?” He asked a smile flickering on and off his face.

“I’ve been coexisting with the creatures here. But it’s been hard. You know the poachers from when we got separated, Grindelwalds people?”

He nodded.

“Well they’ve heard about this here dragon and they are trying to find it, or you, or both. I’m not sure. I’ve been doing everything in my power to keep them off their trail.”

Newt looked impressed and momentarily looked me in the eye. I saw amazement in them, and something close to adoration, but he was probably thinking about the dragons.

“All without magic?” He asked looking away quickly.

“Yeah, I’ve just been setting up false trails and stuff like that.” I responded, looking at him curiously.

He didn’t speak for a minute. “This dragon looks a bit like an Antipodean Opaleye, but they live in New Zealand. I can’t imagine what one would be doing here in America, although they have been known to migrate. Well I, I guess, I should probably do some sketches, and, and, observe. Then we can figure out what to do next.” He looked back and forth between me and the dragon and started fiddling with his case.

I smiled, I had missed his ramblings about creatures and was looking forward to learning more from him in the near future. “Alright. I want to make sure we are safe, I am going to go cast some protective charms, is that alright?”

“Good idea.” He said, settling down with a notebook on a large rock. The dragons were playing some sort of tug-of-war with each-other and didn’t seem to mind our presence.

I jumped from rock to rock until I was near the bottom of the hill, a good distance away from where the cave was hidden and raised my wand. I waved it a couple of times, muttering incantations, and watched as magic rippled through the air and turned invisible. Hopefully muggle-repellant and sound-blocking would be enough for now. Invisibility would have meant that I may have not been able to get back. Just before I turned around to walk back, three figures appeared at the base of the hill, three all-to familiar figures.

“Poachers.” I muttered under my breath. They had spotted me and raised their wands.

“Stupefy!” One of them yelled, but it missed.

I flicked my wand again, sending the same spell back at him non-verbally. It hit him straight in the chest. I raised my want to do it again but the tallest of them unarmed me with a swish of his wand. I stood my ground. Running to Newt would mean revealing him and the dragons.

“Well, well, YN.” He said slowly, smirking. “You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long now.”

Not knowing exactly what to do, I ran forward, towards him, maybe, hopefully, to reach my wand. He obviously hadn’t been expecting this and jabbed his wand at me. I flew backwards onto the sharp rocks. I felt my shirt rip and the sharp, knifelike rocks puncture my back in several places. The man, who I learned was called Haven, laughed.

Reaching around I felt my wand and slashed it through the air, knocking both him and his crony back into the sand at the bottom of the hill. I grinned, and then grimaced, feeling the pain in my back. Blood was seeping into the fibers of my shirt.

“Why you little—” Haven said righting himself and pulling up his companion.

I couldn’t move because of the pain in my back and I felt my wand leave my hand again. A second spell shot at me, tying me up, now I really couldn’t move. I felt the rocks cut me even more as I wriggled to get free.

Haven bent over me “You will tell me where the dragons are, and that boyfriend of yours.” He squeezed my neck with his left hand.

“No.” I said as defiantly as I could.

He chuckled evilly. “Look here, little YN, you’re pretty nice looking and if you’re not gonna tell us where these dragons are hidden, I could find a lot of other uses for you.” He brushed a gloved finger over my lips, looking at me hungrily. “It’s your choice.”

“I’m not gonna tell you.” I spat in his face.

He stood up sighing. “I’ll get it out of you then. And when I’m finished with that we’re gonna have some fun.”

He pointed his wand at me and every nerve in my body suddenly exploded in pain. My scream caught in my throat. I writhed, trying somehow to escape it, but it was no use. When it finally subsided I was breathless and sweating. I looked up at Haven.

“Tell me where they are, or I’ll do it again.”

My thoughts at this point were only of Newt. If these people somehow captured him it would be catastrophic. Grindelwald was after him not me.

I managed a small smile. “Go ahead.” I said quietly.”

The anger on Haven’s face was the last thing I saw as my body erupted in pain again and I was sent flying. My head hit stone and I was out cold.

 My vision was blurred, but I could see light, and some colors. A blob of colors that looked like Newt was scurrying around. My eyes focused. I was face down on a cot in what looked like the shack in Newt’s case, and Newt was indeed hurrying around, looking through bottles and jars.

I pushed myself up hastily. “Dragons!” I said rather manically, an obvious look of distress in my eyes. “Are they ok?” I looked at Newt.

He was pale, his freckles very apparent on his white skin, and he looked incredibly stressed. “You’re awake.” Relief in his voice, and then concern. “What are you doing lay back down.” He said sternly.

When I didn’t he came over to me and pushed my shoulders back into the bed.

“Are they ok?” I asked again frantically, giving in to his push.

“Yes, they are quite alright, I can’t say the same for you though.” He mixed some ingredients in a small bowl.

“What happened?” I asked suddenly becoming aware of all the pain in my body and breathing in sharply.

“Winnie, well, she killed, those three men.” He said dipping a cloth into the bowl.

“She protected me.” I stated gratefully.

“Well yes.” He paused fiddling with some more ingredients.

“Mr. Scamander?” I asked.

“Yes?”

“Where’s my shirt?” I asked, suddenly becoming aware that it was missing.

“I’m sorry. I had to take it off. Your back is badly injured. And maybe your legs, but it looks like the rocks didn’t get through your pants. And your head got pretty banged up.”

“Oh.” I let out a breath. I glanced on the floor next to my bed to see an unrecognizable cloth soaked in blood. One of the buttons caught my eye and I realized it was my shirt. I didn’t realize how much I had been bleeding.

“You are still in shock, you probably don’t feel the extent of it yet, this will fix it quick enough so that you can’t.” He took a now saturated cloth out of the bowl and started dabbing it on my back. It stung, but I didn’t show it. His movements were amazingly gentle, and respectful, especially around my bra, as he carefully worked the salve, or whatever it was, into my back.

My back was on fire from whatever he just used but I was too shocked to realize the extent of the situation and the fact that I was shirtless in front of Newt Scamander.

“I’m going to use my wand to heal the cuts now. It might hurt a little bit, I’m also afraid that you won’t be without scars. These cuts are quite deep and jagged” He said gently.

“That’s ok, thank you.” I said wrapping my arms around the pillow in front of me to brace myself. I felt the tip of his wand on my back as he traced it over the cuts. There must have been a particularly long one because he muttered some spell and I felt his wand there for a while. A weird sensation settled on my back and then I yelped. Pain shot through me in a quick jab which left me teary. I grabbed onto the pillow harder and stuffed my face in it as the rest of the gashes closed up.

I raised my head out of the pillow and felt him prodding my back gently. Now that the pain was mostly gone each touch felt like tiny waves of electricity, but again, I was still in pain and didn’t notice as much. His fingers lingered slightly on the spine of my lower back, and then he quickly took his hand away. I wiped away my tears.

“Your back should be fine now I need to look at your head.” He said bluntly.

I put my head back down and he parted my hair. Again he raised his wand to it and there was a moment of pain before it was swept away.

“Here.” He handed me a cotton sweater and looked away as I sat up and pulled it on. It smelled like him, specifically like the mash he generally fed to the nifflers.

I sat up but suddenly got very tired and flopped back down. Although the immediate pain from the cuts was gone, the scars felt stiff and raw, and so did my whole body. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of my muscles. They were extremely painful and difficult to move.

“Ow.” I said tearfully.

Newt looked surprised, his eyes widened, and rushed over to me again. He scanned me for any injuries and grabbed my hands, my shoulders, and then my head. “What is it? What’s wrong YN?” He asked frantically.

“Nothing.” I lied, and tried to look away, but he held me there, and looked me in the eyes, something he hardly ever did.

“Tell me what happened dear.” His eyes got rather glassy and his face fell. “Your cuts are healed you shouldn’t be having this reaction.

I couldn’t resist those eyes, or his worry. “They attacked me. I fell on those rocks and got cut up.”

“Why were they attacking you?” Newt asked his eyes darting around my face.

“I’ve been hiding the dragons from them, they may have tracked you too. They wanted me to give up their location, so they tried to get it out of me.” I said lips trembling

“How?” He asked seriously.

I shook my head, a tear running down my cheek.

He looked at my hands again and noticed the burn marks of the rope, and just how much my hands were shaking.

“They used the cruciatus curse on you didn’t they?” He asked quietly. He sounded shocked, like he didn’t want to believe it.

I looked down and nodded slowly.

He turned away and walked to his table. He leaned on it with both hands for a second before slamming his fist down on it. One of his bowls popped up and rolled off the table, shattering into pieces. He bowed his head. I wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“If Winnie hadn’t… If those men had gone any further…If I had been there.” He started the sentences but didn’t seem to be able to finish them out-loud. “I just can’t, can’t, imagine.” He let out a deep breath and turned towards me again.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

I lay there in the hut, unsure of what to do. I lifted myself off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. The small mirror in there showed me my pale skin. I splashed a bit of water on my face but none of the color returned. I saw a small strip of red on my neck and examined it. It was part of the scars. It was thin and it reached my collarbone. Unsure of what I was going to see, I lifted the sweater I was wearing slightly and tried to get a good look at my back. It was a mess of fresh pink scars. As I had suspected there was a large one running right down my back. Smaller ones criss-crossed over each other and a couple wrapped around my hips. Before I knew it tears were coming to my eyes.

“YN?” Newt stood there, looking at me through the open bathroom door.

I quickly shoved the sweater down my back and wiped away the tears. “Is everything ok?” I asked.

“I think I should be the one asking that question.” He said, taking me by the arm. “You really shouldn’t be up.”

I let him lead me back to the cot, but I didn’t lay down, I just sat there.

“Look.” He untucked his shirt and sat next to me. He lifted it up to show me his side. There was a long white scar, and many other smaller ones carved into his freckly skin.

I wasn’t that shocked, seeing that his job entailed dealing with wild beasts, and his hands and arms looked about the same. “Why are you showing me this?” I asked. Almost unconsciously I lightly traced the scar on his side.

He shivered and pulled away. “It’s only fair. I saw yours.” He said, lowering his shirt and lowering his eyes to his shoes.

I sat in quiet for a minute. “It’s not about the scars, I’m used to those, I work with dragons. It’s about how I got them.”

Newt didn’t say anything for a second and then he just put his face in his hands and stayed like that.

“Mr. Scamander?” I asked quietly. Wiping my eyes with my overlong sleeve.

He smiled mildly and lifted his head. “You know you can call me Newt right?” He stated.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Only you would ask that after going through everything you just did.” He shifted his gaze. “I don’t know what I would have done if they… I, I’ve been worried sick for weeks and then the the dragons, and these men. I just want you to be safe.” He finally finished.

“I think we both picked the wrong line of work for that.” I laughed and then grimaced at the pain.

He looked at somewhere past my ear, stepped forward, and hugged me and pinning my arms down like I had done earlier. “I can’t fix this pain. I’m so sorry. I wish I could.”

Tears threatened to drop from my eyes again.

“I know this seems to help you though so I will do it.” He let go for a second and then climbed onto the bed with me.”

“Mr. Scamander, you really don’t have to..” I started, tears now dripping down my face.

“No, I know physical contact calms you. It’s the least I can do.” He laid down right next to me and wrapped his arms around me, pressing my head into his chest. It was the same thing he did for some of his beasts when they were hurting. They would rest on his chest while they were sleeping, and he would make sure they were alright. I didn’t know how to feel that he was doing the same to me but it was true that physical contact calmed me.

I let out an involuntary sob. “It hurt so much.” I said into his chest. I felt tears dropping onto his shirt, making it damp.

“I know. Shh. I’m so sorry.” He whispered into my hair. He rubbed my back for a few minutes with his free hand. “Try to rest if possible. I won’t leave.” His strong arms held me close.

I could hear his heartbeat. It was quite fast. We lay there for a long time, I could feel his every breath on the top of my head, and feel the heat that emanated from his body. He was right, it was very calming. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep and he must have thought I was asleep because he spoke again.

“I don’t think I could live without you YN.” There was none of his usual stuttering or backtracking, and despite myself I felt my heart leap.

At some point, despite the pain that still flared up in my body, I did fall asleep. I remembered waking up and screaming and hearing him again. His voice cracked as he said. “Shh, they can’t hurt you. I’ve got you.” And I drifted off again, his strong arms still embracing me, tucking my head into the crook of his neck.

 When I woke up the next morning I didn’t immediately remember what was happening. I was still stiff and I didn’t want to move, afraid that as soon as I did the same pain would shoot through my muscles. Without even opening my eyes I could tell that I had latched onto Newt demiguise style, so that I had both my arms and legs wrapped around him. This is generally what happened to my blankets at night so I wasn’t surprised. The second thing I noticed was Newt’s soft voice.

“…and how brave you are. It also amazes me how well you can tame dragons. Your writing is phenomenal, you are loyal, and kind. Why would you even stick up for someone like me. It should have been me instead. I’m so sorry.” His voice trailed off and I felt him brush some hair behind my ear and then quickly move his hand back to my shoulder where it was before.

I opened my eyes to find myself staring right into his. He blushed so much that I couldn’t see his freckles anymore.

“Er, Hi. I mean, Hello. Uh. Good morning.” He smiled briefly and shifted his eyes away.

“Good morning Mr. Scamander.” I said sleepily, unlatching my limbs from him and receiving pins and needles in the process. “Sorry about that.” I felt heat rise to my face too.

“It’s quite alright.” He replied, still laying there for a minute and then abruptly getting up.

He made a fuss of tucking in his shirt and setting his clothes straight again, and picking up some of the stuff from the night before.

“Thank you Mr. Scamander.” I said looking fondly at him. “It really did help, the physical contact.”

He paused and smiled. “Anything for you YN.”

I grabbed my wand which he had set by the bed. I waved it over myself, effectually giving myself a shower. I immediately felt cleaner, and my hair was no longer grimy either. I sighed.

“Can I, Can I just ask why, why you insist on calling me Mr. Scamander? It sounds like you are addressing a superior or something.” He said with a confused look on his face.

“Does it bother you that I call you that?” I asked back.

“Well, no, not particularly. It’s just that generally my friends call me Newt.”

I’m not dumb. I could see where all his worry and whisperings from the night before was leading to, so I felt like this was the right point to admit it. “I don’t call you Newt because if I did I am afraid I would fall in love with you.”

“Afraid?” His face fell from concerned to even more confused.

“Well, I guess I should say more in love with you.” I looked him in the eye.

“More in love with me. So you are already in love with me?” He asked blushing, a shyly pleased look coming on to his face.

“Yes. And I didn’t want to force that on you in any way, I guess until I knew how you felt.” I shrugged.

“How I felt?” He looked mortified.

“I heard some of the stuff you said last night and this morning.” I smirked at him.

He nearly fell off the stool he had settled on and didn’t speak for a minute. “Oh, well, it’s all true. It’s just easier for me to say stuff to people when I don’t have to judge their reactions.”

“I know.” I smiled sweetly and reached for his hand.

He took my hand in his and cleared his throat “You need to rest. I don’t expect you’ll be feeling much better today. I have to tend to the animals, but I will be right back.” He stood up, dropping my hand, and walked out of the room. I chuckled to myself, he wasn’t very good at this, and it was quite endearing.

One second later he walked back in and got a blanket from a shelf and threw it over me. “Just in case you are cold.”

He started walking away again but turned back abruptly and took my hand again very gently. He bent down and kissed it lightly. “I love you too.”  He tried to turn away but I kept hold on his hand and pulled him closer.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulder and pulled his face closer to mine. He looked excited and terrified. “Can I kiss you?” I asked, not wanting to scare him anymore.

He nodded slowly.

I closed the last few inches and brushed lips with him, and then deepened the kiss. He responded wonderfully, and deepened it more. It was bliss.

After a minute I pulled away and looked into his eyes, smiling. He was smiling too, and very red. It looked like he could barely contain his happiness. Even more so than when he first saw the dragons, which was saying something.

“I love you.” He said again, looking somewhere near my shoulder, before walking out of the room again.

My heart felt warm and fuzzy and so did my whole being as I watched his copper bedhead walk out the door.

[chasholidays]

They Were the Best Years of My Life

An And So It Goes timestamp for @matriarchal and @lushatrocity!

i.

It's not like Bellamy wanted to have kids so that he could come up with family Halloween costumes. He loves Clarke, he's always wanted children, and once they've moved into a larger place and gotten their jobs stabilized, they figure they're ready.

It's still staggering and more than little terrifying to start a family, but then they have a baby, and he doesn't really have enough room left in his brain to not feel ready for that. He's too busy making she she doesn't choke on her own hand or something to think about how he's an adult with a house and a wife and a baby.

Cassandra is just over seven months old when October rolls around, and he remembers that Halloween is a thing, and for the first time ever, he has a tiny, living prop to work with.

"I came up with a list of costumes for us during my free period today," he tells Clarke when she gets home.

"For what?"

"Halloween. I'm going to need to get working if we're going to have three costumes by the end of the month."

She bites her lip, trying to hold back either a smile or laughter, he's not sure which. He's a little ridiculous about Halloween; he knows that. And Clarke knows it too. She thinks it’s cute.

“We’re going trick-or-treating with our infant? I think everyone’s going to know the candy is for us.”

“We must have something to dress up for,” he says. “She can come to parties with us. Or help us give out candy. Or just pose for pictures.”

“Maybe we should get into cosplaying or something,” she muses. “So you have more opportunities to dress her up.”

“Or you could just help me pick a family costume.”

“From the list that you made.”

“From the list that I made,” he agrees. “We’ve got years of family costumes to go. We just need to pick what order we do them.”

“I love you,” she says, shaking her head. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Bellamy's favorite thing about Halloween costumes is that there really is no limit. They range from fictional characters to generic professions, inanimate objects to vague concepts, which means he really has a lot to work with, and he thinks he has some great ideas there.

Clarke, however, gets stuck on the first one. "Frodo, Sam, and Gollum?"

"I'm Frodo, you're Sam, Cassandra is Gollum. She's mostly bald and isn't great at communicating. I could make her a One Ring pacifier."

It sounds as if Clarke is actually choking on her laughter, which is always an accomplishment when he can manage it. "Okay, that's--on the list. Pirates is a little vague."

"We're pirates and we rig Cassandra's stroller up to look like a treasure chest. That one might be better when she's a little older," he admits. "It would kill at trick-or-treating."

"Or when we have two kids and Cassandra has her own costume."

"Or that."

"Bat, Super, Wonder?"

"One of us is one of the Batpeople, the other is one of the Superpeople, Cassandra is Wonder Woman."

"I want Batgirl, you can be Superman."

"Cool, write that down."

In the end, they come up with ten potential costumes to do over the next decade, and settle on the Lord of the Rings group for this year, largely because Clarke can't stop giggling about it.

"Besides," she says, like Bellamy hasn't agreed and she still needs to justify herself to him. "That's a much better costume to show off to our friends than to go trick-or-treating in. We'll save the others for wider audiences."

"You know these were all my idea, right?" he asks, with a smile. "I like them. You don't have to convince me."

"I'm rehearsing for when our friends make fun of us. Just let me know how I need to help," she adds, and Bellamy kisses her and gets to planning.

He and Clarke are still the only ones in their immediate friend group with a child, but their friends also love Cassandra and never mind having to accommodate her when they make plans that involve Clarke and Bellamy. He knows the two of them don't go out to the bar to hang out with Gina as much as Monty, Miller, and Raven do, but they've pretty much accepted that. They have a baby; they're drinking at home.

The Halloween party is at his and Clarke's place this year, both because they have the largest place and because taking the baby places can be a pain, but a group costume doesn't have impact unless it's seen all at once, so Bellamy and Clarke both open the door, with Cassandra in her mother's arms.

Monty and Miller take a second to take them in. The costumes are great, if Bellamy does say so himself; they're not leaving the house, so he even made furry socks to give them authentic hobbit feet.

"You know," Monty finally says. They're dressed as Captain Cold and The Ray, which is also a pretty great costume he approves of. "We met playing Hearthstone. It shouldn't be possible that we're not the dorkiest people here. And yet here we are."

"Is that a One Ring pacifier?" asks Miller. "You can't just give Gollum the ring, guys."

"But it makes her so happy," says Clarke.

"I'm just saying, I wouldn't put my kid in a costume that actually encouraged her to bite my finger off," Miller says, and Bellamy shrugs.

"I'm willing to risk it. But I'll take that into consideration for next year."

"This is going to be a thing, isn't it?" Monty asks, wary.

"We've got a list," says Clarke, bright. "It's already a thing."

Monty just shakes his head, but he's still smiling. "Great, can't wait."

"Yeah," says Bellamy. "Neither can I."

ii.

It gets a little more complicated when Cassandra starts developing opinions of her own about how she'd like to dress for holidays, but it's the nice kind of complication. He remembers, a little bit, how it was when Octavia was growing up, what it was like to see her turning into a person before his eyes, but it's even cooler this time, when he's old enough to really understand and appreciate what's going on.

She's three and a half by the time she's articulate enough to express opinions on Halloween costumes, and when he asks what she wants to be, she thinks it over carefully and decides, "Chewbacca."

Clarke's sitting at the table looking at their budget, and he can actually see her trying not to laugh.

"Chewbacca?" he asks. "From Star Wars?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay," he says, inclining his head. "I bet we can do that. But it's going to be a lot of work to put all that fur together. Are you going to help me?"

"Uh huh."

"And you're not going to quit if it's too hard, right?"

"Nuh uh."

"Okay," he says. "Let's get started."

Obviously, he's not actually expecting Cassandra to do a ton of work, but it's never too early to start learning the basics of sewing and construction, as far as he's concerned. And it's not actually that hard a costume, in some ways. He can buy some brown leggings and a top, sew some fur on there, and then make a mask. And his and Clarke's costumes will be easy; Han and Leia is definitely a dream couples costume.

"One of the big Halloween secrets is that you only make as much stuff as you can't buy," he tells Cassandra, low. They're drawing up plans together, which means he's sketching actual plans, and Cassandra is drawing a picture of Han, Leia, and Chewbacca, which is mostly just a bunch of blobs.

"You know you can just buy the actual costume, right?" Clarke says. As usual, she's not contributing to the overall costuming process, but she likes to be close, so she can still be a little involved.

"Mom's right, but it's more fun when you make stuff. But making shirts is really boring."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But making the costume is going to be fun."

"Sure it is," Clarke mutters, and he sticks his tongue out at her over Cassandra's head.

Of course, he's right, and even Clarke gets in on it, as he knew she would, because Clarke doesn't know how to resist a project, especially when both he and Cassandra are involved. She puts her foot down that she wants Leia's Cloud City look, and Cassandra gets really into going to thrift stores with her looking for costume components, which is really kind of ridiculously cute.

It really is a group effort, and when they line themselves up for the first time in front of the mirror, no one's more excited than Cassandra.

"We look so good!" she says, and just like that, she's hooked.

Bellamy's never been so proud.

iii.

The next year, Clarke is visibly pregnant, so they have that to plan around.

"It's too bad she's too young to watch Fury Road," Bellamy muses, drumming his fingers against Clarke's stomach. "She'd definitely be a war boy."

Clarke laughs. "She's four, we're not showing her Mad Max just for a Halloween costume. I don't care how much you want her to ride eternal, shiny, and chrome."

"Which is what I said."

"Sometimes you say things hoping I'll secretly disagree."

It's not like she's wrong. "I just can't think of many age-appropriate characters who are visibly pregnant."

"That's because kids can't know that pregnancy exists, or else they'll ask where babies come from."

"God forbid." He sighs. "I guess she'll have a lot of opinions. You think you're going to be up for trick-or-treating? You've been a little tired."

"I think I'm good." She kisses his shoulder. "I don't want to miss it. And I really want to find out what you guys come up with."

He smiles. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to that myself."

He and Cassandra sit down to talk about it the next day.

"So, I was thinking it would be fun if our Halloween costume this year had the baby in it," he tells her, and she frowns.

"Is the baby going to be born?"

"No. But maybe Mom could dress as someone who's having a baby soon."

"Oh." She frowns. "That could be okay."

"Okay?" he asks, a little amused in spite of himself.

"I wanted to be ponies."

She's been watching My Little Pony basically non-stop on Netflix; he should have seen this coming. "And there's a pony with a baby?" he asks.

"Uh huh. Princess Cadance had a baby. So Mom can be Princess Cadance and you can be Shining Armor and I can be Twilight Sparkle!"

Twilight Sparkle is her favorite, so it's not like this is some great sacrifice for her. "You want to do that?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay," he says. "I bet we can figure it out."

And he really does mean it, but after about half an hour of googling, he'll admit he's not entirely sure what to do with the whole thing.

"I'm worried if we just dress up as ponies, we're going to be furries," he admits to Clarke.

"I think furry is something you already are, not something you become the first time you dress up as a cartoon horse."

"Is that based on something, or are you just guessing? Remember when the dean on Community got that dalmatian fetish? It could be like that."

"Community wasn't a documentary, Bellamy. Except for the documentary episodes," she grants, before he can make the argument himself. "Anyway, did you look at Equestria Girls?"

"At what now?"

She rolls her eyes. "Didn't you have a Navy buddy who was a brony? Why aren't you better at this?"

"I'm okay with not being better at this. What's Equestria Girls?"

"It's the one where all the ponies are humans in high school."

"How is that real?"

She shrugs. "No idea, but it would probably be a lot easier to do those costumes. Regular clothing decorated with, like, their cutie marks and stuff."

"You think that's going to be pony enough for Cassandra?"

"We can do pony ears, just to be safe. I bet you can talk her into that."

"Oh, so it's my job to talk her into it?"

"Halloween is your holiday, babe," she tells him, patting his shoulder. "I'll tell her that Santa's not real, when that comes up."

He laughs. "And you're fine with being a pregnant, anthropomorphic horse for Halloween? Just checking. I want it in writing that you're fine with this and it was your idea, because I don't want you to be complaining ten years later about how much this sucks."

"I promise I will only ever complain about the year you made me a pregnant anthropomorphic horse costume as a joke," she says, and he kisses her hair.

"Good enough for me. I'll see if the kid doesn't mind."

She's thrilled, of course, and Bellamy doesn't worry about it until the night of. It's their first year trick-or-treating with Monty and Miller; they'd only been fostering Dylan for a few months last year, and he wasn't comfortable going out with a big group of near-strangers. Now, he's settled in a little more and sees the wisdom in going on a longer route with nicer houses and better candy.

He's just that he is, unfortunately, also a six-year-old boy, so he looks a little wary at the sight of them.

"What are you supposed to be?" he asks.

"Ponies," says Cassandra, smug. "We always make family costumes."

"Oh," says Dylan. "That's cool."

"I bet Dad would make one for you too," she says, with the magnanimity of a child making a promise she won't have to put any effort into fulfilling. "If you want him to."

"We're not doing a six-person costume next year," Miller tells him, low. "I will actually murder him."

"I know," says Bellamy. He smirks. "We'll have the baby, so it's actually going to be seven people. Unless Raven and Gina want in, and--"

"There is something wrong with you."

"That too," he says. "Happy Halloween."

iv.

Seven people is really a lot to work with, Bellamy has to admit. It's why he and Cassandra decide they should start planning in September.

"It's like Christmas creep, but specific only to our family," says Clarke.

"They're already selling Halloween candy some places," Bellamy points out. "It's not just us."

"Well, I think we should go back to an old classic idea," she adds, which is surprising. Clarke usually considers her role in Halloween planning to be supporting, not leading.

"Yeah?" he asks, "What's that?"

"Pirates."

Cassandra lights up. "Pirates?"

"Yeah. Dad had this cool idea where he thought he could rig a stroller up so it looked like a treasure chest, and then the rest of us could be pirates, protecting it. That would be fun, right?"

"Yeah!" she says. She's practically vibrating with excitement. "Can we do that, Dad?"

"We should check with Uncle Nate and Monty and Dylan," he says. "Make sure they wants to do it too. But even if they don't, we make a pretty good pirate gang with just the four of us, right?"

"Uh huh," says Cassandra. "Well, three of us. Marc is the treasure, right?"

"Yeah. This one's going to be complicated," Bellamy adds, doing his best to bring some real gravity to the statement. "We have to put together the treasure chest. That's construction, not just sewing."

"I like complicated," Cassandra declares. "Let's do it."

Clarke, unsurprisingly, takes point on building the treasure chest; construction and artwork are her fields, and she manages to put together a sturdy cardboard shell that slides over Marc's stroller. For the lid, she finds some cloth to go over the top of the stroller, taking advantage of the part that folds up, and Bellamy has to admit, it looks awesome.

"It's almost like I'm good at things," says Clarke, with obvious smugness.

"It never gets old, finding new things you're good at," he tells her, fond, and leans in for a kiss. "Seriously, this is awesome."

"Of course it is. I love our Halloween tradition," she adds, with a small smile. "Just because I'm not always as involved--"

"I know." He smiles. "Trust me, I never doubted. Now you just have to help me come up with an appropriate pirate costume for you."

"I didn't know it was that hard."

The smile turns into a smirk. "When I think about you dressing up as a pirate, it's not exactly G-rated fantasies."

She laughs, tugs him down for another kiss. Both the kids are actually asleep, so there's an outside chance he's going to get laid tonight. He's pretty sure they can make it happen.

"So tell me about your idea tonight, and I'll help you figure out something appropriate for me in the morning," she murmurs, and he grins and tugs her closer.

"Works for me."

The pirate costume she ends up wearing to trick-or-treat is not, therefore, the pirate costume of his fantasies, but once the night is over and the kids are settled down, she undoes the top few buttons and tightens the corset, so, really, who says you can't wear Halloween costumes all year round?

They're going to get a lot of use out of this one.

v.

At age ten, Dylan is the one who finally says, "I want to be Spider-Man this year," and Bellamy and Clarke exchange a look,

Bellamy doesn't often think of the conversation he and Clarke had during their first Halloween together, all those years ago. He does remember it, but less on its own and more as the first time Clarke confirmed that she wanted to have kids with him, that she didn't just love him and want to stay with him, but that she was planning a future for them, the same as he was.

He did not expect, in any way, to actually have to make Spider-Man costumes for any number of children.

"I wanna be 'Pider-Man too," says Marc, right on cue. He thinks Dylan is the coolest person to have ever lived, which means that everything Dylan does, he wants to do too.

"Is there a girl Spider-Man?" asks Cassandra. "A good one. Not just Spider-Man with a ponytail."

"I think we can probably figure something out," says Bellamy. "But I'm not being Uncle Ben. There's no way I'm jinxing myself like that."

"I think as long as we're all in the Marvel family, it still counts as a theme costume," says Clarke. "I bet Monty will have ideas."

This, as it turns out, is an understatement.

"Okay, so, Spider-Gwen is awesome, Cassandra can be her. She's got a hoodie, it's a really cool aesthetic. And then Dylan can be Peter Parker Spider-Man and Marc can be Miles Morales Spider-Man."

“So they’re not just different costumes for the same person?” Bellamy asks, frowning. “How many Spider-Men are there?”

“How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?” Monty asks. “This is not for us to know. I already have a Black Widow costume, so I’m set. Assuming it still fits.”

His frown deepens. “Why do you already have a Black Widow costume?”

“Because I’ve already dressed up as Black Widow. Nate wants to be Heimdall.”

“Does Nate know that?”

Monty just looks at him, unimpressed. “It’s Idris Elba. Everyone wants to be Idris Elba.”

Bellamy can’t argue with that.

After some googling, Clarke opts for Captain Marvel for her costume, and Bellamy goes with Captain America, mostly because he has a thing for Chris Evans. And Clarke has a thing for Chris Evans. Everyone has a thing for Chris Evans, from what he can tell.

But for some reason, it feels like more work than usual.

“It’s because you’re making fucking armor,” says Raven. She and Gina are coming with them this year, but have opted for DC superheroes. Bellamy’s pretty sure Raven just wants someone to try to tell her she’s a fake geek girl who doesn’t know Oracle isn’t in the Marvel universe so she can fight them. Which he completely supports; he hopes she kicks their hypothetical asses.

“So it’s Miller’s fault.”

“And yours. You want a real shield.”

“What’s the point of having a fake shield?”

Raven rolls her eyes. “So have you always been like this, or is this a weird biological imperative? Like you had kids and decided you needed to disguise them so they’d be protected from predators.”

“That sounds real. I like Halloween,” he says. “Miller and I did costumes together when we were little, and I always liked it. And when O let me dress her up.”

“Masculinity meant you couldn’t play with dolls so you had to figure out another way to do it,” she supplies.

“Or I just like Halloween. Seriously, it’s fun. And I’ve got another five years tops before Cassandra decides she’s too cool to dress up with her family, so I’ve got to milk it while I can.”

“Kids sound exhausting, I’m glad I don’t have any.”

“Yeah, if that's how you feel about it, it's definitely good. You want to be sure about kids. But you’re still coming out with us? Trick-or-treating can be a lot."

"Obviously. I miss having an excuse to get free candy. The costumes look really cool," she adds, bumping her shoulder against his. "You're good at this."

"Costumes? Yeah, my mom taught me to sew when I was a kid."

"Not just that. You guys are good at all of this. I still feel like I'm not used to you being parents, but--you're doing awesome at it."

He smiles, but there is a lump in his throat. Validation never gets old. "Getting sentimental in your old age, huh?"

"Shut up," she says. "Metal-working always does that to me."

He puts his arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "Yeah, that must be it."

The costumes get done, and by the time Halloween rolls around, Bellamy really does feel like a successful parent. Not, of course, that Halloween costumes are the be-all and end-all of parenting, but--it's not just costumes. His kids have two parents who love them and are able to take the time to do things for them and with them, which is lucky, and they have adopted aunts and uncles and friends who all want to go out with them. When Bellamy was Cassandra's age, he was already taking his sister out alone, and while he could do that, he likes that his kids will probably become embarrassed to be seen with him long before he stops wanting to make them all family costumes.

"Do you think if we do this again next year and I start now, I could make myself web shooters?" Cassandra asks.

"Depends on what you're thinking," says Clarke, clucking her tongue. "You could probably get something that would shoot something out of it, but it's not going to be like real functioning webs."

"I know that," says Cassandra. "But I really like this costume, and it would be cool if we could do, like, silly string! Fwip, fwip," she adds, flicking her wrists at the darkness. Monty loaned her some Spider-Gwen comics, and Bellamy can sense the start of a new obsession. It really might last her all the way to next Halloween. "We could do that, right, Dad?"

"Raven might need to be technical consultant," he says. "I'm not really an expert on web shooting. But yeah," he says, putting his arm around her and giving her a squeeze. "Any costume you want, we'll figure it out. You know that."

"I do know that," she says, easy, and that's his favorite tradition.

After all, he gets to be a superhero every single Halloween.