#they might look a slightly different colour but I think that's just the filters they used during filming

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #110

Last Twilight ep 10:

Cooking Crush ep 7:

[the-willow-that-weeps]

So, I’ve been a fan of the httyd books for as long as I could read and I’ve always been slightly (hugely) disappointed that there hasn’t been a faithful adaptation. Am I the only one ?

Anyway so I started brainstorming ideas of if there was an adaptation what it would look like, - feel free to add on more this is just what I have so far.

- Becoming a Hero the Hard Way -

Ideas:

- Sketchy art-style with lots of moving lines and colours - think spider-verse, PIB the last wish, arcane

- Could use 3D models with an overlay of sketch lines and lineart

- Use audiobook dialogue as audio, probably just the talking scenes, for everything else will be drawn at least for now while it’s still quite small

- Keep character versions as close to the books as possible, might have to make them more realistic looking depending on the final animation style

- Characters who are more ‘stable’ have more fps, whereas characters like Alvin who are more unstable have fewer fps and are more janky and unsettlingly animated

- Maybe use slight colour filters on certain scenes to symbolise relevance to books/dragon time prophecy eg book 5 - orange, book 2 - navy

- Use sound for symbolism or themes for dragon time prophecy anytime it is mentioned/ foreshadowed

- Either make movies or seasons/series ? - if series maybe join two books together until like 10 ?

- Could have 4 trilogies/sagas 1-2-3, 4-5-6, 7-8-9, 10-11-12 ? Be named different things , could play on word for the prophecy ?

- 1st - training your dragon / httyd?

- 2nd - the quest

- 3rd - the prophecy

- 4th - the dragon jewel

- Or have two 6 part seasons ?

This is all quite rough right now but I just wanted to put it out there in case anyone else is interested ?

I would like to seperate it a but from the movies so I was thinking of the name Becoming a Hero the Hard Way as that’s quite relevant throughout the books.

And I thought a more 2D animation style would work, I said above maybe something like spider verse or even just hand drawn, I’m not completely sure, I’ll have to do more research.

So yeah please tell me what you think !

[squircatlies]

Today is the day I unleash my Mr. Bonzo fanart upon this webbed site.

This post is relatively safe up until the cut.

Is the *tips fedora* meme over a decade old? Yes. Do I care? No, absolutely not.

~

Now this is where I recommend "getting off" this post to anyone bothered by graphic depictions of body horror, blood, violence, or Mr. Bonzo (monster, not mascot like above).

I know the first image is silly, but I cannot stress enough how serious I am when I say:

Proceed at your own risk.

Now that you have chosen to continue, I have arranged the images in order of least to most vile and disturbing (though that might be slightly subjective on my part).

Remember that you can click off this post at any time.

Final warning: split tongue Bonzo.

I tried channeling Julia Drawfee with the lineart a little bit. Didn't feel like shading that one, so it's a bit flat.

Where did I lose my colours? Plot twist: the first image in this post is actually the last I've made, so technically I gained the colours. I wanted it to have more of a cheery vibe, unlike the ones under the cut, which I wanted to be kinda dreary and I feel like adding too much colour can mess that up.

Alright, I'll address the tongue. Remember how his head splits in tmagp 12? Yeah, it's a nod to that and also I asked myself "how do I make his design worse than it already is?" and that's the only answer I could come up with. I debated adding stitches connesting the two halves of the tongue but couldn't figure out how, so you're welcome. It will be present in all the upcoming drawings as well.

~

The next one is bloody, but it's not that much worse than the previous one overall.

I was playing with filters after I was done with this piece, because I felt like it lacked something, but didn't know what. Really liked this one, I think it's some sort of a gradient map. It pixelised the image and adjusted the colours a bit, it also really made the blood pop out, though it covered up some of the details.

Why did he lose his hat? It's stupid and hard to draw.

You may have noticed the artstyle change a little, the previous images having neat lineart and little to no shading. That's because I am using different tools, sketchy and soft brushes, that allow me to experiment with lighting and textures more (plus the aforementioned filter altering the image even further).

~

Alright, I feel like this last image deserves a separate warning. It references episode 12 (spoiler ahead), specifically the moment before the bartender loses a hand, though it's not entirely accurate. It's rendered in more detail than any of the previous images, so keep that in mind before scrolling down.

Basically it's pov: Bonzo licks your hand.

I feel like I could've made his tongue bigger in this one, it seems kinda small compared to his mouth. I really like how the skin on his face ended up looking. It took a lot of work.

The spit makes it look weirdly sexual, doesn't it? Listen, that was not my intention, but I'm not erasing it. I set out to make the worst thing I could and, though not without cost, I have achieved it.

I tried splattering Bonzo in blood, but it wasn't really working for me and it covered up a lot of the detail I liked, so I just put it in the background.

The human hand is drawn from reference, which I found by googling "hand reaching out away from the viewer". And let me tell you: google is shit at looking for drawing references, but I figured it was just going to be a sketch to explore an idea, so I didn't bother trying to get a better one. And then I fixated on it for a couple hours, you know, like a normal person.

I literally (and I mean no exaggeration) dusted off my drawing tablet after a few months of no use to spend the entire weekend, after tmagp 12 came out, glued to the screen making those images, except for the b'onzo one, which I made this evening.

Just to clarify: I drew all of those by myself. No filthy AI image generation is allowed in this house. I am capable of committing far greater sins than an artificial intelligence ever will.

The only thing left here is to extend my sincere congratulations/condolences to whoever got this far. It's up to you to either think you're brave or realise that you're foolish for doing so, but be comforted by the fact that at least you didn't make this post, which I cannot say for myself.

[vashatxt]

more than friends - a stelle x march nsfw drabble (first time)

stelle looks around march 7th's room for what feels like the hundredth time; every time they visit their friends here, they spot more details hidden amongst the overwhelmingly pink color scheme. photographs - so many photos, her camera never leaves her person after all - of different worlds and ships and adventures, of dan and himeko and welt, of pom-pom and peppy, and... of stelle. they had been overcome with emotion the first time they noticed a picture of the three of them be given pride of place on her wall; it was strange, to think that in the space of one mission together, stelle had become important enough to march that she couldn't think of anything more urgent when they left belobog as to document the spring of their friendship. but tonight, its a different image that catches stelle's eye. not a posed shot or selfie that they'd been roped into taking with someone, but an unfamiliar one. a photograph some might call a candid. "when did you take that one?" they ask, tapping march's shoulder and pointing at it. it's tacked up on the wall just beside her bed. in it, stelle sits on a bench, slumped down a little with their head leaning to one side, a peaceful expression on their face. eyes closed, enjoying the fresh air. "oh...," march blushes. "i - sorry, i couldn't resist! you looked so lovely, stelle. it reminds me of how... how nice it is when everything comes to a halt. you know what i mean? how easy it is to relax in those moments where you have nowhere to be and nothing to do." "you don't have to apologise. you're good at this - you certainly made me look pretty." "you always look pretty!" there's a blush colouring march's cheeks as she avoids their gaze, maybe feeling embarrassed for the unsolicited compliment. but stelle doesn't mind; there's just this weird feeling in their stomach when they look at her. the kind of feeling that's always there in the background, and amplifies itself every time march is in the same room as them. and she's so, so close to them right now. sitting up on the bed, hip to hip, but turned slightly away from each other. "says you," stelle mouths, just loud enough that march can't pretend she doesn't hear it. march is beautiful... petite and bright eyed with the prettiest smile, soft skin, hands much smaller and daintier than stelle's own. a few moments pass as they contemplate what it would be like to hold them. "you're staring at me. do i have something on my face or something?" "sorry," stelle coughs. "uh...,"

they don't know why they do it, but the longer stelle looks at march, her bright eyes and even brighter heart, all the beauty in the world stuffed into this small girl, the more the urge to reach out and touch her builds up.

they glance away, before stealing another right back -and then, then they do it. before any kind of filter or shame can get in their way, they brush a strand of hair from march's face and kisses her.

stelle makes sure to go in soft, they're unsure how this usually plays out and what feels good and what's even appropriate; it's march that reciprocates like she's been waiting her whole life for this. maybe she has been. maybe there's love and loss and heartbreak and longing in her past. she wraps her arms around stelle's neck, taking them by total - but welcome - surprise, leaning forward and climbing into their lap.

her legs around her waist; because she's small and slight enough to fit comfortably there, slotting into stelle like a missing puzzle piece.

the butterflies in stelle's stomach are a new sensation, and it's one they battle with. march is eager, deepening their kiss, her tiny nails digging into the back of stelle's neck. the more she does this, the more uncomfortable stelle feels in the pit of their stomach.

but they're pretty sure it's normal.

they spend a while pressed against each other in a lingering, sometimes lazy, sometimes desperate kiss; march whimpering every time she feels stelle's tongue flit into her mouth, their names followed by little gasps of breath or moans their only soundtrack. march doesn't want it to end. she feels special, when stelle looks at her. when stelle holds her. if she pulls away, it might end. she'd have to answer to stelle, answer to the desires she's been feeling all these weeks since they met. and she doesn't have the words for that.

stelle's tongue brushes march's bottom lip, and it silences her doubts in an instant. for stelle, the butterflies are turning into heat. white hot heat at their core, not satisfied with anything; not satisfied with just tightening their grip or pulling at march's lips with their teeth. they want - they need - more. what the more entails doesn't really cross their mind, it's just an instinct. a desperation to be as close to this girl as they can possibly get.

"lie down," stelle mumbles, and march responds with wide eyes and silent nods. she clumsily climbs off of their lap, and crawls across her bed, lying on her back.

stelle looks at her, really looks - her skirt riding up just a little bit, caught under her thigh; her vest rolls as well, to expose her hip. she's... she's everything, stelle thinks. everything.

"you can do whatever... i... i trust you...," march is stumbling over her words, but the intent is clear.

stelle props themselves up beside march, their hand resting momentarily on her stomach before moving down; cold fingertips on the hot skin of her hip, and resting on her thigh. march bites her lip and shyly spreads her legs, inviting them. stelle can't resist, and march is staring at them with nothing but lust, pleading; eyes as sad and wanting as a puppydog. they slip their hand underneath the fabric of her skirt and squeeze her soft thighs, slowly trailing upwards, until... fuck.

she's so warm, and as stelle takes two fingers and gently rubs her slit, they realize it's because march is wet. she's soaking; and she's arching her back into stelle's touch, needy and desperate for more. more pressure, stelle thinks, pressing down on march's swollen clit, so sensitive that she gasps. "stelle...,"

"shh, i've got you, i'll be gentle-," "n-no. more."

fuck. whatever awkwardness stelle assumed would come with fumbling around and trying to figure out how to pleasure a pretty girl just didn't exist; march's desperation works like reassurance, like encouragement. march twitching and leaning into where it feels good is the hottest thing stelle could imagine. the nights spent with march just a few doors away, thinking about how good she smells and how pretty her hands would look holding theirs - wondering about kissing and how she might react to their shameless flirting and loving the way she would blush when stelle was confident enough to do so.

the nights they spent touching themselves the way they were now touching march, slow, lazy circles to draw the feeling out as long as possible, until march's gasps are loud enough that stelle speeds up just to calm her down.

"i d-don't wanna yet, noo, not yet-," march protests, but her body is betraying her. her toes curl and she clenches her thighs, every time she meets stelle's eyes she feels like she's going to combust.

she wants to feel their weight on top of her and have them fuck her hard, knuckle deep inside her cunt until she screamed so loud everyone would know that she was squirting, cumming all over stelle's hand, grinding and desperate for more still even as she does.

"p-please... stelle... innnnn... inside me...,"

stelle takes the hint, and it's not hard to slip two fingers into her pussy, finding a rhythm that march could match by rocking her hips and moaning, the sound much deeper this time. she feels so full, and she wonders how she'll ever feel normal being empty again. she wants more, she wants stelle deeper and faster and harder, she pushes pathetically against their fingers, all but out of energy, but stelle looks like they could go for hours.

"th-that feels...so good. stelle...,"

the sound of their name is like a catalyst, stelle thrusting her fingers in and out of her soaking cunt faster and faster. for march, the room spins, but stelle shushes her, calmly, soothingly. "good girl, good girl... i've got you... i'm looking after you, don't worry... you can cum for me, sweetheart... be a good girl for me and show me what i do to you...,"

stelle's own pussy aches as they curl their fingers while deep inside march, iliciting a squeal they hadn't heard from her yet. "stelle, i'm gonna -,"

stelle pulls their fingers out and watches march's face fall and her words turn into nonsense. "make yourself. for me...," they say, desperate to see how march does it. aching as her face shifts from 'oh, no fair' to 'fuck it', her pretty hand finding where stelle's is, still hovered on her mound, and squeezing their wet fingers. as march begins pleasuring herself, stelle doesn't break eye contact, slowly sucking their fingers until they were all cleaned up from march's pretty, sweet slick.

and then, they join in. shoulder to shoulder, with their heads leaned towards the others, stelle plays with themselves with the feel of march's hot breaths against her face. march, who is flushed and tired and full of lust. "please let me taste when you cum."

"your wish is my command." "then cum for me, stelle, pleaseee. please let me cum and please...please...,"

it doesn't take long for stelle to be able to make that wish come true. they mumble - march, march, i'm close, please, i'm so close; and the next minute, they both cum. neither know who's first, their names cling together like an out of tune chorus as the sounds spill out of their mouths.

march curls up in a ball, clenched and small and overstimulated as she does, her cum leaking into the gaps between her fingers; skin glistening when she finally pulls out of herself. stelle, on the other hand, throws their head back and bucks their hips upwards as the waves come, cursing march's name and using their free hand to clutch a pillow as tight as they can. sweat pools as it runs down their neck and into the dips by their collarbones; and march is panting, smiling - she shifts down in the bed and curls up on stelle's thigh, a hand resting on the other.

stelle reaches down to her and slips their two messy fingers into march's eager mouth, the lewd sucking and popping sounds driving them crazy. they fall asleep like so, stelle's fingers still lingering at march's lips, red coloring on their cheeks. whatever happens when they wake is up to future them to figure out.

march may laugh it off and ignore it, stelle might make a silly joke to wind her up and end up fucking her from behind in a storage closet when the teasing turns march into a desperate mess for them again. or maybe this is all a dream. still, stelle thinks, how nice it would be if it isn't.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

We are. We really are.

Anyone up for trans femme Freddy?

[Image Description: Image 1 is a comic page with 9 panels. The first one is a close up of a fluffy and cartoony Freddy’s face from the side. He has a sad expression and is on a dark red background with posters behind him.

The second panel is of Freddy from the front. He still has a sad expression and haze blue filters and layers to show it’s from the perspective of his mirror.

The third panel is small and takes up the top right corner of the second row. It has nothing but the word “Hey.” in it.

The fourth panel shows a close up of Freddy’s eye. It’s wide and looking back towards the fifth panel in the middle of this row.

The fifth panel is of Roxy’s legs on a background indicating she has just entered the room from an open doorway.

The sixth panel and the last panel on this row is of a close up of Roxy’s eye with no clear expression. The text spreading across the last two panels says “I thought you might need some help”.

The seventh panel is of Chica with a happy, smiling face and closed eyes. She’s holding a box and is turned slightly to the left.

The eighth panel is of Roxy from the front with a happy, kind of relaxed expression. Her mouth is open to indicate she is the one speaking.

The ninth panel is of Bonnie turned a little to the right. He has a similar expression to Roxy in the last panel and his arms are crossed over his chest. There’s text spread across this row of panels that reads “So I brought the Cavalry!”

The second image has six panels across another three rows. The first panel takes up the entire top row and is of Freddy sitting at a desk with a star shaped mirror on it. He is turned towards the camera with a touched smile.

The second panel is of Freddy’s hat on the corner of the desk. The third panel is of a paintbrush on a background of stripes of various colours all coming from the brush. There’s faint white stars across the colours. The fourth panel is of three flowing fabrics, one yellow with white polka dots, one blue with faint white flowers, and one purple with faint white stars. In between all of them is a blue bracelet with pink and white spikes, sevel buttons of various colours and several badges of different shapes and colours.

The fith panel is on the last row and is a close up of Freddy’s face. It only shows a bit of his hairstyle and the top of his snout. The text says “So...”

The sixth panel is another close up of Freddy’s eye. The typical blue and red markings are no longer present and instead, there’s a yellow love heart shape with a thick pink outline over his eye. The text reads “what do you think...”

The third image has two panels that take up the top and bottom half of the page. The first panel is of Freddy from the front looking amazed. The yellow and pink heart marking is over his left eye and a larger version of it is over the chest instead of the typical lightning bolt. The left ear also has two piercings instead of the one. The first is a round, transgender flag pattern and the second is a pink, curved diamond shape with a yellow spot in the middle. The stripe on the chin has colours matching the heart shaped markings. The text is a continuation of the previous sentence and reads Freddy’s new name, “Francine?” In the background are the silhouettes of Chica, Roxy and Bonnie.

The bottom panel is of Francine from the front again, this time with a happy expression. Bonnie is hugging her on the left side of the image with a closed eyed, happy expression, while Chica has a similar expression on the right side of the image. She’s also hugging Francine, with one eye closed and one arm wrapped around Roxy who is positioned below and in front of her. Roxy has the side of her face pressed into Francine’s stomach as she hugs her as well and is just as happy as the other two. The background is of three pride flags. The bisexual flag is around both Bonnie and Roxy, the lesbian flag is behind Chica and in the middle behind Francine is the transgender flag. The text above them is Francine saying “It’s PERFECT!”

The last image is half the size of the others and completely black. The text reads “WE’RE Perfect.”

End Image Description]

I am still learning image descriptions. If I’ve done something wrong or you’d like to tell me how to make it better, feel free to let me know.

[tizeline]

Your art is so cool!! Can you share you digital art process sometime?

Ask and ye shall receive:

(Also thank you!!😭)

Aight so I have A Few digital art processes due to me being inconsistent and not being able to commit to one thing (I prefer calling it ✨having a creative and curious mind✨ but eh) so my processes are subject to change, but here are my more recent methods of drawing digitally.

First of all, my art software of choice in the last couple of years has been Procreate, with some of my most commonly used brushes being these:

Spectra is my brush of choice when it comes to sketching, I really like the texture and it has a nice feel when it comes to both size and opacity based on pressure.

Next up is lineart, what brushes I use in this stage goes hand in hand with what type of colouring process I'll use. When it comes to drawings with more flat shading (such as cellshading) I'll usually use Narinder Pencil. Again, nice texture, and I like it for situations where I want thinner lines with less variety in line-thickness.

When I use a colouring and shading process that's more complex/fully rendered of whatever tf you call it, I tend to use the Niko Rull or Eaglehawk (first drawing is the Niko Rull, second is Eaglehawk)

They are also the brushes I use for the actual rendering process of this particular colouring style (yeah guess we're going into to colouring stage now)

I have no idea how to describe my actual process on how I render my drawings lmao sorry I guess?? I kinda just improvise and hope it ends up looking decent haha. As you might be able to guess though, I am HEAVILY inspired by Arcane's art style (that show Awakened something in my istg) so uhhhhh go watch other people's tutorials on how to emulate the Arcane art style or smthn I dunno.

I will say though, the rendering process and the final look of the piece ends up being slightly different depending on which brush I use.

Niko Rull is rectangular as a base shape, and it doesn't really shade that easily on it's own. Because of that it takes a while to make the shading look good (trust the process!!) but I really like the end result (textureeeeee)

Eaglehawk is easier to blend and shade with (as in it takes a shorter amount of time) which leads to the end result being more smooth

Back to the drawings that use mainly flat shading! Here I will often use Eaglehawk to add that sweet sweet texture I keep going on about, basically I will just colour the areas that are either darker and/or more saturated (for example the cheeks, nose and ears in the latter case) with what is usually a warmer tone on a layer set to multiply, then I adjust the opacity to my liking.

Then I'll just cellshade using the Medium Hard Airbrush. I like using a cooler tone like blue often (like I did here in this example) but that changes a lot depending on what I think'll fit the art piece. Draw that on a layer set to multiply and again adjust the opacity to whatever looks good.

In the final stages of the drawing process I'll just add a bunch of filters until it looks good lmao. I am Bad At Colour Theory™, even though I KNOW the theory part of it, I have such a hard time actually using it practically. Basically, making the colour palette look good is HARD so I'll just CHEAT by using layers that's filled with a colour (whatever fits) and set it to like multiply or overlay or something like that and lower the opacity a bunch and BOOM people will think I know what I'm doing. One of my favorite is covering the entire drawing with a layer filled with a light blue colour, set that layer to Difference and lower the opacity to like 5%. The effect is subtle, but I like it.

Also, MORE TEXTURE!! Static texture!! Well, in procreate it's called "Noise" but it basically adds this static like texture to your selected layer. Use it on a layer that's filled with gray, set it to overlay lower the opacity a bunch and it gives this really nice grainy feel to your art. The colour filters I tend to use on all my coloured drawings, but the noise texture I mostly use the art with flat shading.

So yeah, sketching - lineart - colour flats - shading/rendering - add a bunch of filters - finished art piece, nothing really unusual there.

And lastly, some extra things I do:

In the lineart stage, I'll colour the sketch like red or something to differentiate between the sketch and lineart more easily.

I'll also lower the opacity of the sketch layer to help avoid accidentally drawing the lines on the same layer as the sketch (iykyk)

When filling in the flats, I'll first use a deep, saturated red or blue, and when I'm done filling in a section then I'll change the colour in that area to what it's actually supposed to be. This makes it easier to notice if there's a spot you missed to fill in because it'll contrast more!

I tend to prefer lineart that isn't pure black in my illustrations. With thinner lines I'll colour them a dark brown, blue, green etc, while with thicker lines I'll do the same but also lower the opacity slightly so that the colour underneath effects the lines colour as well.

You know how some people draw everything on like 1-3 layers? Yeah I'm the opposite, ONE MILLION LAYERS BABEYYYY you can never have too many!! (actually you can there's a limit but eh)

Sometimes, when I need to come up with a pose, I'll try posing in different ways myself to get ideas. I wont take any reference pics of myself tho because yikes

That's all I can think of for now! There's quite a lot to go into when it comes to art processes and I'm not great at explaining things, so if anyone has any questions just ask! :,)

[snobgoblin]

saw you were looking for crit on your arcana oc and thought i’d weigh in as someone who also struggled with recreating the arcana style. the first thing that stuck out to me as being different from the arcana style was the brushes you used, your lineweight and the shading.

the arcana game uses a pretty distinct brush set which was once available by a user called like savenkey or something?? you might be able to find the brush set just by looking around online but it definitely comes in handy when getting that slightly textured & tapered linework. as it currently stands, your lines are quite thin, made of a pretty smooth brush, can be a teensy bit wobbly in some places and dont have any tapering towards the ends. to make this close to the arcana style i’d recommend upping the thickness a little bit (if you’re struggling with space between pixels just bump up the canvas size a bit) and increasing the amount of stabilisation. the tapering could potentially be done by hand (ie erasing the ends of lines to make them thinner) but it’s super time consuming so i’d recommend just using the arcana lineart brush (on a side note, if you don’t manage to find the set but are still interested i could try work out how to send them over?). another thing to note when drawing lineart is that the arcana game uses a lot of sharp edges, especially around the elbows, jawlines and fabric folds, don’t be afraid to thicken those approaching edges up, just to create a spike where the two lines intersect

as for the shading, the whole brush thing also comes into play as the arcana style shading brush has a bit of roughness and is on a slight angle, that’s what creates these areas on the in-game sprites. i can also see you’ve begun to alternate between hard and soft shaded edges but i think a few harder, more definitive edges would help it look closer to in-game art. the arcana shading is also all done in a pale lavender colour on a multiply layer. it looks like you’ve done it on the face but it’s also the case for the rest of the body and clothes too & really helps make that distinctive arcana vibe. it can definitely be difficult shading curly hair and i also struggle with it, but curly haired ingame characters (especially those with shorter hair) do still have big blocks of highlights, doing one big swathe across the side of the skull would better mimic the style, with additional smaller highlights (sometimes less is more) to denote extra curls

and then a few extra details that might come in handy:

- the arcana game uses a textured overlay over their characters’ images, i don’t know if this is the exact one they use but it definitely works! slap it over your character as a clipping mask with the overlay layer filter (you might need to lighten or darken the grey to ensure it doesn’t mess with your characters colours too much) and then just drop the opacity to wherever you think looks best

- (as far as i’m aware) all arcana characters have fingernails drawn on, adding some to your character (whether they’re painted or not) might be a nice touch

- no matter how small or thin, generally all smaller details like tassels/string ties/jewellery or other metal details are all given lineart and coloured, the details are such a pain in the arse to draw but it definitely makes the final look worth it imo

- i’m not 100% sure how you’ve drawn on the blue details but in-game, they’re usually drawn using a screen layer with slightly lowered opacity over both the colour and lineart, and some of the edges are slightly shaded out

however, as far as art style mimicry goes i can’t recommend bast_art13’s tutorials enough, i’m not entirely sure if they’re still active in the community either (i was mainly active in 2020 and have only just started crawling back in💀) but their tutorials are still up on tumblr i think (somewhere). they really break down how the arcana artists draw faces/facial features and explain recurring stylistic choices, for example, how metal is shaded

anyway! that was a lot and i do want to say that you’ve made a really brilliant effort, the style is really difficult to emulate and the way you’ve drawn your oc is really nice!! you did so well, especially when seeing the improvement between this one and your previous drawing. and ofc it’s needless to say i’m a stranger on the internet, take what i say with a pinch of salt or just completely ignore the bits you think are stupid if you want ! it’s a perfectly acceptable response to unwanted pieces of criticism :]

while i’m here i also want to say that i’m obsessed with ur valdemar fanart + you’re doing the lords work with the amount of content you make for them. with that aside, good luck on your future drawings in the arcana style!! i’m sure you’ll do great & apologies if my handwriting was unreadable! also if you have any further questions feel free to ask :3

ohhhhh thank you! this is all very helpful and I'm grateful you took the time out of your day to share with me what you've learned, I'll definitely be taking this to heart for my future efforts

[morocosmos]

Returning - Alphinaud, Estinien

Intro chapter | Thancred | Urianger | Y’shtola

Warrior of Light & Alphinaud Leveilleur & Estinien Wyrmblood

Takes place during Endwalker, just after the end of 6.0. This is a series of vignettes on each of the Scions’ relationships with my Warrior of Light, Moro’a as he’s recovering after the end of the Final Days.

Estinien wastes a quarter bell winding his way through Old Sharlayan’s nearly identical buildings, looking in vain for a tall spire from which he could survey his surroundings before finally locating the Physis Technon, marked by an elegantly-wrought but illegibly small plate on the door. One would think a grand centre of learning would be more orderly…pushing through the entrance, he finds the lobby well-occupied by all manner of patients and visitors, but nevertheless strides to the reception desk, paying little mind to those who murmur at the sight of him.

It takes mentioning that he’s one of the Warrior of Light’s companions to the distracted, harried-looking receptionist, but fortunately that’s all he needs to be ushered towards the recovery wards and outside of Ward Beta, Room 1-1-3.

“Visiting hours end at eleven. Do try to follow said timing – we are extremely busy,” the staff member informs him. Estinien acknowledges his words with a quick word of thanks, and enters.

He takes a moment to register the scene before him. He squints, feeling almost as though he’s been thrown back into time and into someone else’s body. Moro’a lies on a large bed that hugs one corner of the room, the half moon’s light filtering gently through the open window. His face is as pale as the roiling clouds beneath Ishgard.

And there Alphinaud sits, hunched forward slightly in a chair too large for him, having long shed his usual air of polite propriety for quiet, anxious resolve.

It’s another moment more before the younger elezen registers his presence, turning around in surprise. “Estinien!” he starts. “I did not expect you to turn up so soon. I could’ve sworn I was not meant to leave for another bell or so…”

The dragoon waves away Alphinaud’s concern. “Your sense of time is fine,” he clarifies. “Alisaie merely suspected you might want for company, and dug her elbows into me until I was forced to yield.” A begrudging tone slips out towards the end of that sentence; he still doesn’t know what to make of the more fiery Leveilleur twin at times. Whether to bemoan her blunt demeanour or praise how much she cares.

A small smile alights on Alphinaud’s lips, and he shakes his head. “I do not doubt that she meant well…and I suppose she was not wrong. Thank you for coming, Estinien.”

Estinien grunts in response, pulling up the remaining chair beside Alphinaud’s and sitting down. Greetings out of the way, he takes a closer look at Moro’a, whose bed is surrounded by machinery with readings Estinien can’t begin to comprehend. He’s heavily sedated, no doubt, under whatever magicks and medicines the sages have seen fit to administer him. Estinien notes the edge of a bruise on Moro’a’s right cheek, wondering just how much they’d managed to heal and how much there was left. “How fares our friend?”

Alphinaud nods as he looks back towards the miqo’te. “Moro’a has yet to show any indication of consciousness, but his vital signs have been stable throughout my visit. See, here…” He gestures towards one of the machines. “I was fortunate enough to learn how some of the equipment at Physis Technon works during my studies. This restoration unit functions similarly to a sage’s nouliths, applying restorative aether in highly-controlled amounts to the patient.” He points at another screen, where several coloured lines trail up and down in waves. “This is a specialised medical aetherometer that tracks the balance of different kinds of aether in the patient’s body, and communicates directly with the restoration unit’s regulation interface – in doing so, the levels they’re supplying can be adjusted accordingly. This contraption, on the other hand–

“Spare me the details, Alphinaud. I won’t remember the half of them,” Estinien cuts in desperately with a raised hand, though not unkindly. “A simple statement will suffice.”

“Ah…pardon. Moro’a seems to be steadily recovering from his…numerous injuries,” Alphinaud summarises. The word catches in the boy’s throat, as though it had inflicted a wound of its own, and he looks away as he speaks. “Father assured me that the chirurgeons are more than equipped to take care of Moro’a, and that we need not worry.”

Estinien observes the boy for a moment. “And yet you’ve sat here, worrying the bells away regardless,” he guesses.

“...Yes,” Alphinaud concedes with a sheepish smile. “Would that I could say I have full faith in my father’s words. Of course, I do not mean to undermine the esteemed sages and their work here! It’s just…I have noted how busy they are. Several of their patients hail from Thavnair as well as Garlemald: victims of the Final Days.” That would explain the receptionist’s behaviour. “It would not do at all to divert resources from them…alas, I confess it only adds to my anxiety,” Alphinaud laments.

Estinien says nothing, waiting to see if the boy will continue.

“Do you recall our journey through the Dravanian Hinterlands, when we had learnt of Ravana’s summoning?” Alphinaud’s still smiling; there’s more than sheepishness in his words now. “You had admonished me for so readily volunteering Moro’a as our champion, and you were right to do so; I had scarcely thought of what dangers an unknown enemy might have posed to him.” He closes his eyes. “I would like to think that I have valued his life far more since. And yet…after all that he has accomplished and weathered, it still feels unimaginably unfathomable that he could be at death’s door….confronted with such a possibility, I cannot help but worry. I don’t know what else to do.”

The boy looks to be at a loss, and Estinien decides he’s grateful for Alisaie’s insistence after all. Was it the same for you? he wonders as he glances at Moro’a, for once again he’s reminded of how the Dragonsong War had ended. The soft glow of moonlight on his face as he’d awoken to Alphinaud’s miserable sobs. Moro’a and Aymeric, relief plain on their faces. The latter he had comprehended in an instant (along with the complex gamut of emotions that had followed), but as for Moro’a, they’d not exactly been close. Comrades, sure, but hardly friends.

How rudely the sight had shown him just how much his life still meant…the fullness of the combined emotions in his chest had been so achingly strong, he’d immediately set about chastising Alphinaud for his tears.

He tries for a different approach this time. “Look, Alphinaud.” The younger elezen looks up at the dragoon with full attention. Estinien clears his throat, hoping he sounds encouraging. “If there’s naught we can do for Moro’a but wait, then that’s all you need do. Surely he is aware of the concern you hold for him. And I doubt he would want you to fret yourself to death ere his recovery.”

The words come out awkward, and he thanks the Fury that Alphinaud smiles, even if it’s a bit rueful. “I know.” The boy takes a deep breath, recentering himself. “Thank you. I must believe that we are doing all that we can, and that the chirurgeons will do so as well.”

“Mmm.” Better. Estinien doesn’t blame Alphinaud for worrying – if he thought Moro’a had been in a bad way when he’d hoisted him onto his shoulder at Ghimlyt Dark, the state of his maimed body as he’d teleported back into the Ragnarok had been far worse. A full recovery could take moons.

Alphinaud finally seems content to sit in companionable silence, and so they wait. Several minutes pass before Estinien becomes aware of an insistent beeping, sounding from one of the contraptions.

“That noise. Is that…the aetherometer?” Alphinaud says. “Wait…Twelve–

Estinien stands back abruptly as Alphinaud nearly throws himself over to reach the aetherometer. “Moro’a’s aether levels are fluctuating rapidly! What in the gods’ names could be…is he going into aethershock?!” The boy’s eyes are glued to the screen. “Bars ten and eleven measure light aether – of course! His altered sensitivity to Light may not have been accounted for by the sages…oh Gods…”

Estinien hasn’t a clue what Alphinaud’s talking about, but he notes with alarm that Moro’a’s breathing is growing louder, more erratic by the second; the dragoon’s instincts are telling him to act, and now. 

“Alphinaud! What should we do?” he barks.

“I’ve called for one of the chirurgeons!” Alphinaud quavers; there’s a smaller contraption in his hand, some kind of remote. “They must needs stabilise his aether, but I do not know how soon they will arrive…I have a firm theoretical grasp of how the restorative unit functions, but I should not handle medical equipment without proper training or–

“Has being a Scion taught you nothing?? Do what you must.” Estinien clasps one hand over Alphinaud’s shoulder. “If you can stop this before Moro’a comes to harm, do it.”

Alphinaud’s trembling hands hover over a row of buttons and sliders, and he hesitates for a second more before getting to work, tapping at the screen. “T-there, I think that should do it…gods, I do hope I have not made a mistake…”

Just then the door swings open, and a chirurgeon hurries in. “Stand by, if you would!” she orders. “Master Leveilleur, were you interfacing with the aetherochemical restorative unit? You should well know that visitors are not to tamper with a patient’s medical equipment!” At that instant, a new sound rings from the unit, and the beeping subsides; the sage squints before studying the screen, and then closely examining Moro’a.

Several tense minutes later, the chirurgeon exhales, composing herself. “By Thaliak’s graces, t’would seem that Master Kihshimo’s aether levels have stabilised. I must stress, Master Leveilleur, that you are not to attempt this again.” She turns to look at the both of them. “I will perform more checks to ensure that he is indeed out of danger. And I would recommend that you both take a moment to get some air.”

As subtle an instruction to leave as anything. Estinien decides it’s not worth arguing, and neither does Alphinaud, for they both make for the door in unison with nary a word.

The younger Scion walks with an unsteady gait, prompting Estinien to place a hand over his shoulder once more. “You did good,” he says quietly.

[very-grownup]

Werewolf at (by?) Night

Like playing Bioware DLC without the rest of the game.

While this is multiple layers of "I don't go here" (modern movies, the MCU, Marvel in general), I emerged from my hole to watch this with some friends. It's in black and white! You can pet our cat! Man Thing!

Props for trying something slightly different, but imagine if it had been something slightly different and also done well and thoroughly.

I might not feel I had such pressing unkindness to share with respect to this hour of streaming entertainment with leads whose names I've already forgotten (I think they were Jack and Ilsa but I wouldn't put money on it) but the very end violates one of the important rules of modern media: don't remind the audience of a Better Thing.

You're right, Werewolf in the Night, I could have been watching THE WIZARD OF OZ. That's a great movie that you're reminding me of while simultaneously evoking without integrating the reference in a thematically coherent way, namely with a record playing young Judy Garland's rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", a song she sings at the beginning of the movie when the world is colourless and she's longing for something beyond her drab and unkind-seeming Kansas farm life. Not when she arrives in Oz and her world floods with colour, a visual the significance of which five-year-olds can grasp. I suppose the choice to bring in colour at the end with Werewolf the Night is meant to tell the audience that it's morning which is.

Fine.

Although it also draws attention to how little attention was paid to the actual aesthetic of black and white films, the care with which colour and lighting have to be used in anticipation of how they will look in black and white so images are clear enough in the lower visual quality of the time which extended to colour films.

It's too sharp. HD crisp high resolution bright and perfect underscoring that the previous fifty minutes haven't really been like the Universal monster movies the aesthetic is hoping to evoke, but just someone slapping a monochrome filter on their instagram post. Nowhere is this more obvious than when Man Thing is on screen. The CGI monster looks wrong. He just looks wrong. He doesn't belong there. There's a similar problem in the choice to have the magic red stone be the only thing shown in colour when everything else is black and white. It's red, laser light red, and it looks tacky and wrong, visual nails on the chalkboard of my eyes. In university, I went with some friends to see a movie constructed as a throwback love letter to old pulp serials, SKY CAPTAIN AND THE WORLD OF TOMORROW. I still remember having a great time, because, even though it was in colour, there was a softness to how everything was shot that felt closer to the movies of the '30s and '40s I grew up watching than the black and white Werewolf to Night.

The thing is, colour was introduced to black and white photos before the pictures moved. There are silent movies with colour scenes (the Lon Chaney PHANTOM OF THE OPERA has one). The original BEN-HUR opens with the birth of Christ and in the nativity, Mary's blue robe is the only spot of colour. It's not something as simple as there can be no colour in a black and white movie. It just doesn't look like it does in Werewolf in Night. It's jarring.

There are a few moments where the black and white is used well; a properly contrasted transformation scene through black shadow splashed across a pale wall is pleasantly striking. The werewolf design has a lot in common with Lon Chaney Jr.'s iconic wolf man makeup which makes it feel more appropriate in black and white than Man Thing's clean CGI slickness.

Pushing past the visuals, as a narrative all I can think after watching Werewolf to Night is that screenwriters need a crash course in compressed storytelling because there's not much here, even if the soft pencil sketch of the characters has charming pulpy comedic potential. They could have also leaned more into the hard woman archetype the female lead is trying for; a full serious Katherine Hepburn approach would have been good, fitting with the aesthetic and distinguishing her from the Strong Female Character favoured by genre fiction writers of the last twenty-five years.

All I'm saying is: I watched THE WOLF MAN a couple weeks ago. It's only 70 minutes and doesn't feel like a collection of afterthought cutscenes used to stitch together a lackluster Dragon Age add-on.

[ramadoodles]

We're back on the painting deep dive train!

Today we're tackling (drumroll please)

Parade de cirque.

It was made by Georges Seurat in 1888, but before we memorize all that, let's all take a moment to admire this painting:

Look at that beauty, she's just so symmetric! I really like the vertical and horizontal lines going on here, and the halos around all the characters.

I'm especially interested in all the lamps in the painting- they look like they've got 2 colours visible there, blue-white and reddish-yellow. It's super hard to keep both of those colours so separate and so vivid, but then this is not just any painting- this is a Pointillist painting, made by the literal Father of Pointillism.

Along with Pointillism, Georges Seurat was also the inventor of Divisionism- Pointillism is, of course, a technique by which paint was dotted onto the canvas rather than being painted in strokes, and Divisionism is the practice of painting the constituents of a colour rather than the colour itself- e.g. painting red and blue dots next to each other in place of purple.

So in a Divisionist painting, you'd see shadow on a purple cloth being portrayed by a mix of purple and blueish dots. E.g. the man standing on the right side in the painting.

Fun fact (And slightly different tangent): A form of Divisionism is used in computer monitors! Each pixel is comprised of 3 phosphors, red, green and blue. When the pixel gets the information about what colour it should portray, the phosphors are lit to the appropriate intensity, and this can produce any colour within the RGB spectrum! Here's a link to learn more.

Back on topic: The way that Seurat's used a mix of blue-white and red-yellow dots in his lamps tricks your eye into thinking that the same area has a blue-white and red-yellow aura. That's really hard for me to do with traditional painting methods, but with pointillism it becomes really easy (and has the extra benefit of keeping the colours at a higher intensity! because rather than seeing a mix of white and yellow, your eye is seeing pure white and bright yellow separately and combining the colours in your brain.)

One factor that might have struck you, if you knew a small bit about Seurat, is that it's not exactly the "riverbanks of paris" style of painting that he's most well-known for. References attached below:

These paintings, and most of his pop-culture famous ones, have very neutral and natural colour palettes, whereas Parade de Cirque is oversaturated- the white shirts have turned blue, and the flesh-toned faces have turned orange. But then, according to the wise folks over at Wikipedia, this is not merely an artistic choice, but an error in how we are viewing this painting.

A 1990 examination of Circus Sideshow at the Metropolitan Museum of Art laboratory under light similar in color to that given off by gas lamps, revealed an "extraordinary transformation", writes art historian Robert Herbert: "Under the colored light the faces of the figures on the platform no longer appeared unnaturally orange but flesh color, the shadows on the trombonist and on the spectators were no longer bright ultramarine blue but black, and the entire painting glowed as if it were lit from behind, which, of course, is precisely the effect of contre-lumiere on which Seurat predicated the picture."

So could it be that we're viewing this painting incorrectly all this time? I don't have access to a gas lamp, but I popped a filter of the approximate colour over the painting to see what it would look like. Personally speaking, I'm not totally sold on the gas lamp idea, but I invite you all to judge for yourselves.

That's all for today, folks!

[grndelwalds]

BLENDING/COLOURING GIF TUTORIAL

I was asked if I could make a tutorial or explain how I made THIS GIFSET - particularly with the blending of 2+ gifs per gif and how I did the colouring. I don’t know if I do this the same as other people - others might have easier methods etc - but this doesn’t feel too complicated to me and it’s something I’ve developed and settled into over a few years of doing this. This is quite long but hopefully informative - happy to answer any questions if anything needs clarifying or explaining more <3

Software:

Whatever you use to capture frames - I use KMPlayer

Photoshop (at least CS5, but I use CC 2022)

Note: This is coming from a place of assuming you know how to make a basic gif already - at least to load files from stack and create a frame animation at your chosen speed/frame rate. I’m not going into how to actually make a gif because I’ve made a series of actions that significantly speed up the process for me and if I showed you that, it would probably be confusing. THIS is a good place to start for gifmaking in general if you need it though.

I’m going to be explaining how to make this one as best I can from the psd:

Tutorial 1. So the first thing you want to do is make the gifs you want to blend - so for this gif I made a gif of Grindelwald looking out of the window, and another gif of him talking to Dumbledore. Make sure they are the exact same length - e.g. if one gif is 30 frames long, make sure the other ones are too. I don’t crop or resize at this stage - I just leave them as they are. 

2. At this stage, you want to select all layers (you can right-click one layer and click ‘select similar layers’ to do this quickly) and then you want to change from frame animation to timeline by clicking this on the animation window:

3. From here, you want to right-click your selected layers and click ‘Convert to Smart Object’.

All those layers should merge to become one layer - in Timeline mode this will still play as an animation. Do steps 2-4 for both/all gifs you want to blend.

4. As the gif of Grindelwald looking out of the window is the darker of the two, I want to keep this one below the other. I then drag the gif of him talking to Dumbledore on top of the one of him looking out of the window. Your layers should now look like this:

5. I usually change the opacity of my top gif to around 60% at this stage, just so I can see what is underneath, because now you want to use the transform tool (Ctrl+T) to move the gif around and create your composition - you can resize while retaining aspect ratio by holding Shift when you move the corners. I made the background gif a little bit smaller so that the top gif of Grindelwald talking was the largest part of the gif and then moved them until I was happy with where the overlap was.

6. If you are happy with your composition, you can now crop and resize to what you want - for this gif, I just used the crop tool with these settings:

Once it is cropped/resized you should be able to see how it’s going to look in terms of composition so feel free to make any tweaks or changes now using the Transform tool or Move tool.

7. Don’t increase the opacity of your top gif just yet, but do add a layer mask to both your smart objects. This is how you are going to blend. You can do that by clicking this icon in the Layer window:

Your smart objects should now look like this:

8. Click the blank layer mask and then select the Brush tool:

9. I make sure the colour is set to black and I have my brush settings like this:

This ensures that the blending can happen gradually and has a much softer effect, making the gifs have a softer gradient between them rather than harsh lines. You can change the brush size to suit you, but I like to start with a larger brush and then work downwards just to get a softer effect. It’s also vital, imo, to have a low opacity - mine is currently 47% - but it stops you removing too much at once and allows you to build on areas you want to erase.

With the layer mask selected on the top gif, I use the brush, slowly, to erase any parts of the top gif that are overlapping the bottom gif, and leaving parts I purposefully want to leave behind. As you can see from the end result of the gif, I wanted some of the bottom gif to show over the top gif (e.g. over Grindelwald’s jacket) but I also wanted the lamp light from the top gif to show over the bottom gif. I also left some of the bottom gif blended into his face on the top gif.

Your layer masks should look something like this now - not necessarily this pattern but just to show the areas you’ve used the brush tool:

10. You now want to reset the opacity of the top gif to 100%, and change the blending mode. I usually use Lighten or Screen, depending on how it turns out on the gif. For this gif I used Screen:

Play around with it and make any more adjustments you want to make. It should now be properly blended.

My gif now looks like this:

Note: If you want to add more gifs than just two, you just do the exact same thing with the number of gifs you want to use - but this could make the gif harder to blend, and it could mean it’s hard to keep under tumblr’s 10Mb gif limit.

So now we can think about sharpening and colouring:

11. I use a sharpening action that I made to sharpen my gifs, so I won’t go into that. But as a good general rule, select your smart object. Click Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen:

You can then use these settings:

Repeat for the other smart object. They should now look sharp. If you need to make them sharper, or want to adjust the settings you can do it at this point. Just make sure you have the smart object selected and use the Filter menu.

12. So for the colouring - I knew I wanted to make the background gif blue. Go back to your layer window - between the background gif and the top gif, I put a black and white Gradient Map adjustment layer, and a Colour Fill adjustment layer with the shade of blue I liked. The Gradient Map is normal blending mode, but I set the Colour Fill to ‘Color’. I found the adjustment layers by clicking this button on the Layer window:

My layers now look like this:

By putting them like this it means the bottom gif is the only one affected by the blue colouring and the top gif remains as it was.

My gif now looks like this:

13. I then placed a number of different adjustment layers over the top - curves, layers, brightness and contrast and exposure to brighten it up, and colour balance, photo filter, selective colour and vibrance to pick out the colours I wanted. Where the adjustment layers changed the blue too much, I used the brush tool on the layer mask to erase what they were doing over the blue areas.

14. So starting with brightening, I start with an ‘Auto’ Curves layer - by this I mean I add a Curves adjustment layer, and just press ‘Auto’:

15. It’s brightened up my gif mostly by automatically balancing colours/tone in the gif, but it’s not quite bright enough. I want to create some contrast too, so I add Levels and Brightness and Contrast layers with these settings:

With just these settings, the gif has a bit more depth and better contrast already:

16. But it’s still not enough. I now want to balance the colours a bit better because I think there are too many orange tones, and the white part of his hair is looking a bit yellow. For this gif, I was looking for a cooler tone overall and better blending with the blue part of the image. I add a Colour Balance with these settings:

And a Photo Filter layer with these settings:

My gif now looks like this:

17. I’ve achieved the cooler tones, but it still doesn’t feel bright enough to me. And - against what I’m trying to achieve, I do want to find some more warmth in there given how warm the scene actually starts out to be. From here, I add an Exposure layer and another Curves layer, as below:

re: Curves - the lower corner is the darker colours/tones in your image. If you raise the curve above the line it will elevate and brighten the darker colours, which I wanted to do to lift some of the shadows out of his face and some of the darker areas of the blue gif.

18. From here I just played around with Selective Colour layers - I usually use a lot of these. For this gif, I played with the settings for Reds, Magentas, Cyans and Blues to try and warm up the gif a little but also bring out some blues in the top gif to blend with the bottom gif better. See the .psd file below to see this in practice.

After the Selective Colour layers, my gif looks like this:

19. To finish off, I added a Vibrance layer with these settings, just to very slightly elevate the colours in the gif:

I then also added a Curves layer just to stop the darker tones looking washed out:

And then I usually finish my gifs with a Selective Colour layer and an Exposure layer for further contrast, settings below:

At the end of all that, my psd layers look like this (they’re so messy...!):

And the final result is that my gif now looks like this:

You can download the psd for this gif HERE so you can see the kind of adjustments I made with those layers and how it works in practice. It may work for you to drag onto your gifs but you also may have to adjust the brightening layers so they don’t come out too dark, or too bright.

Now you can add your own text effects or any other overlays you want to use. For my original gif, I used a combination of blending modes and drop shadow on my text, and set the rectangles around the edges to the Overlay blending mode.

Hope that helps - if you have any questions, feel free to ask and I’m happy to try and explain anything in more detail.

[letterstotheflre]

that’s the thing about illicit affairs

summary: james was never hers to lose.

warnings: CHEATING, age gap (not specified but reader is in her 20s), tiiiny angst?? i don’t think it’s sad lmao, allusions to sex and one miniature sex scene, some food mentions, and a very badly written argument.

word count: 3k (why are they always so long ffs)

a/n: my first james potter fic <3 i love this man so much, sorry for making you the bad guy here. this one’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks, and since i’ve been feeling kinda sad i finally got around to edit it. also hedric rights!!

They always meet like this.

The room is dark except for a small sea salt lamp she bought on sale from Target. Her clothes are piling up on the floor, discarded carelessly by her lover, and his are not too far from meeting the same fate.

He is kissing her hungrily as he could never get enough of her. His hands travel all over her back while she unbuttons his shirt, their lips never parting. He moves her to her bed, the sheets a pale green that reminds him of—

No. He closes his eyes tightly, pretends the green is actually blue like the lacy bralette that covers her breasts and moves his lips down to her jaw. He sucks and nips and bites, letting her moans echo freely between the four walls that make their little sanctuary.

Her hands quickly undo his belt and stroke him lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He groans against the junction of her neck, the skin softer than anything he’s touched in years.

He pushes her down on the bed, cupping her face while he looks at her properly, noting the tangled hair caused by his fingers. Her lips are puffy and shiny, his kisses being the perpetrator of their current state. He waits for her to say something, to give him a sign that this is okay.

(It’s not okay, and they both know it. It’ll never be okay.)

She nods her head, and he kneels in front of her, pushing her legs wide open before he dives in.

—

She is laying on her bed, the sheets covering her body as she watches him try to fix up his hair in front of the mirror on her makeshift vanity.

“Make sure no one sees you leave,” she says, “and put—”

“Put my hood up, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her. It’s not the first time they do this dance.

“Sirius and Remus are with Harry at home. I told them I was going for a run, so they won’t say anything if I show up all sweaty,” he adds, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She just nods her head, fingers playing with a loose thread on the edge of the sheet, pulling it a bit more every time she twists her index finger. He steps forward, then sits on her bed and traces her cheekbone with his knuckles. “You know I care about you, right?” he asks.

Her heart clenches, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest that makes it hard to breathe for a second. She lowers her eyes, refusing to stare at those hazel irises that started everything. “I know, James,” she assures quietly, looking at a picture of her and Harry that’s stuck to the wall just behind him.

James brushes back some stray hairs that are still stuck to her forehead, then presses a small kiss on the slightly sweaty skin. He gives her a tentative smile before heading to the door, and she only looks in his direction when she hears the click of the door.

(He might care, but not enough.)

—

Sundays are always a slightly awkward affair at first.

Both of their families have been friends for years, getting together every Sunday for lunch at the Potter’s. James and Sirius always man the grill with her dad, all of them wearing those corny ‘kiss the chef!’ aprons. Her mother helps Lily make the salads in the kitchen while they gossip with Remus, who steals a few tomatoes when they aren’t looking. Now that it’s summer, she and Harry splash each other in the pool instead of catching up in his room.

It’s always strange seeing James in the light of day, pretending that this is the only version of him she knows: the version of him that is a friend, a father, a husband.

But she knows the other version of him: the one that has her on her knees begging for a taste of him, the one that grips her hair while he pounds into her from behind, the one that lets his tongue explore places of her no one else has. The version of him that kisses her forehead and plays with her fingers while their bodies are tangled together under the sheets. The version of him that kisses her as if she were the only one made for him.

(She isn’t.)

They are sitting around the table eating. Sirius is laughing about something with his arm around Remus’s shoulders, his bark of laughter echoing across the garden. Her mother’s shoulders shake as Lily rolls her eyes in amusement. James and her father have gone back to the grill to bring everyone their second round of burgers, and she can hear her father complaining about something from work.

“Here y’go, kid,” says James as he places the plate in front of her before ruffling her hair. She tenses up for a second before relaxing, muttering a small “thank you” before reaching for the ketchup.

She hates that nickname. It’s so impersonal, keeps a distance between them that truly doesn’t exist. As if he isn’t the only person that can make her vision whiten and the colours of her room hazy while she clutches his shoulders. As if he isn’t the only person who can pull so many different sounds from her vocal cords, sounds he knows no one else has ever heard before because he is the only one who can create them.

She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her as she stretches one arm, so she hesitantly glances at him. He raises an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between James and her, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind.

She gulps anxiously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and goes back to eating.

—

James’s moans are loud as he gathers her hair in a makeshift ponytail. His cock is buried in her throat, and he watches as she gags for a second before relaxing her throat.

She’s taking him so deep that her nose nuzzles his pubic hair, the musky scent of James filling her nose as she breathes deeply through it. She starts moving her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip every time she rises.

He is a mess above her, needy whines and wanton moans leaving his mouth. His hips thrust up softly, slowly fucking her mouth, and he relishes in the small choking sounds she makes. His head rolls back as he groans, “That’s it, baby, so good to me.”

She winces at the name and pulls away from him. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but her hands never stop stroking him. She takes him back into her mouth and starts sucking with a newfound fervour, his voice echoing inside her head as she tries to make him forget about her.

(She tries to forget too.)

—

Honey rays filter through her window.

They are both laying on her bed, James on his stomach while she refills the glasses with some cheap wine she got from the store. He looks at the tiny purple splotches on her neck and the red fingerprints on her hips, then smirks proudly. When she turns, she smiles at him softly.

There’s a summer breeze that ruffles her curtains, and he can hear some teenagers laughing as they walk down the street over the music that plays from her speaker.

She places her glass on her nightstand, her nipples brushing his naked back as she leans over him. She lays down on her side, her fingertips softly drawing shapes on his skin. It takes him a moment to realize they are not random shapes but letters.

Her name, written over his scattered freckles and connecting his moles with cursive loops.

He takes her hand and kisses it, slightly chapped lips pressing against her open palm. Then he kisses her lips, still bitterly sweet with grapes, as his tongue moves languidly against hers while he pulls her by the hand on top of him.

It feels like a distant memory. It feels like a dream.

—

The cacophony of different voices singing “Happy Birthday” rings in her ears.

Harry is at the front of the table, an adorable blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. On either side of him are James and Lily, smiles wide as they watch their son blow the candles. Cedric is behind him, hands on his shoulders, and he leans forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

She sings and claps, whooping with Sirius when Harry blows the last candle. She eats cake and drinks the pretty cocktails Lily ordered. She smiles and laughs, pretends she couldn’t see the way the candles made the golden band on James’s ring finger beam like the sun.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way James holds Lily’s waist before kissing her. She pretends she can’t see them dancing slowly to a song Remus put on the Spotify playlist as a joke.

She pretends she can’t hear his footsteps following her when she goes to the bathroom. She feigns disinterest when he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards a deserted corridor.

But she can’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach when he kisses her, the thrumming in her veins when he pushes one leg between her thighs, nor the pleasure-filled gasps and moans that leave her mouth when he helps her roll her hips along his covered thigh.

It’s thrilling; they’ve never done something like this in public, much less in such proximity to friends and family.

(In such proximity to her.)

Even though she knows it shouldn’t, it gives her a sense of victory. Because he is here with her now: he is kissing her, making her moan, and whispering dirty things in her ear.

A faraway call of his name breaks the spell they’re under. They pull away hastily; she fixes her dress while James makes sure there are no lipstick stains on his face. The footsteps are getting closer, heels hitting the floorboards at the same rhythm as their rapid beating hearts.

It’s Sirius.

James almost breathes a sigh of relief, but she remains tensed up. Sirius looks between them, the same look he had that Sunday all those weeks ago on his face, and she feels bile rising in her throat.

“Lily’s looking for you,” he says, his thumb pointing back over his shoulder towards the reception where everyone’s gathered.

“Right,” says James. “Better go see what she needs. You do not want to see an angry drunk Lily.” He laughs, almost oblivious to the awkward tension between his two friends. He goes back to Lily, leaving her leaning against the wall and Sirius standing in the middle of the hallway.

Sirius looks at her, and even though his mind already knows, he refuses to believe it. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she offers as an explanation. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows that, but it’s the best she can do under this kind of pressure.

“Right,” he whispers with a short nod, then follows James.

She stays rooted to her spot, lips tingling with the ghost of James touch and a guilty mind.

—

Hours later, she clings to a pillow as she lays on her bed alone. The same pillow James was resting on less than twelve hours ago.

She breathes in deeply, trying to catch any scent of him she can, but there’s only the scent of her fabric softener.

There’s no James. No citrus shampoo or woodsy cologne nor salty air from the beach near his house. Because he never wears any cologne when he comes to her, ensuring that there’s no trace of him once he leaves.

Like he doesn’t even exist.

—

It ends in a parking lot a month later.

She was waiting for Luna to arrive at the mall but ended up asking for a rain check when James texted her, saying they needed to talk.

‘Meet me behind the mall’, she texts him.

She walks to the back of the building and waits for his red car to show up. She already knows where this conversation is going to go, and her heart shatters at the thought of saying goodbye to him.

She raises her head when she hears a honk in front of her, and she gets in while whispering a small “hey”. He doesn’t start the car again, just settles for turning the ignition key off. She looks at the families leaving the mall through the tinted window, refusing to look at him, as her knee bounces up and down anxiously.

The silence is heavy, and she suddenly feels cold in the August heat.

James takes a deep breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

She can’t help the snarky comment. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday while you had your fingers buried inside me.” He looks at her unimpressed, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s wrong,” he says— as if she doesn’t already know that. “C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to—”

“I told you not to call me that!” she raises her voice, and the car gets silent again. She hates the tears that gather in her eyes, hates that she cares so much about him and their stupid game, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he whispered so many sweet nothings in her ears and caressed her skin so softly, almost afraid to break him if he was too rough.

(Not that he cared about that when he stretched her wide open and thrust so hard into her that the bed frame banged against the wall.)

“You can’t just show up here and tell me it’s over like you weren’t the one that came to me first,” she jeers, and she can see the tick of his jaw as he clenches it. Good, she thinks, make him angry.

“Don’t just blame me. You didn’t say ‘no’ once.” He grounds out, “In fact, I can recall you were begging me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her cheeks turn into a small fire, a slight feeling of shame overcoming her. “Oh, like you were any better!” she exclaims. “‘Been thinking about you for months.’ ‘You have no idea the things you do to me.’ ‘No one can suck my cock like you.’ ‘I care about you!’” She deepens her voice to mock him.

James opens his mouth to keep the ball rolling, and she wants him to do it because it meant that the fight was still on, that they wouldn’t have to end this. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m telling you now it’s over. Stop acting like a kid who didn’t get her Christmas present,” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing with those words.

“I’m not a kid,” she snaps, her eyes fighting back angry teats at his dismissal. “Then stop acting like one,” he shrugs.

Her hands turn into fists, nails digging themselves into her palms as she tries to keep her anger at bay. “Do you know how much of myself I gave to you? How many plans with my friends have I cancelled in case you called? How many guys I stopped seeing because they weren’t you?” she rants, her voice increasing in volume as she lets her frustration take over. Then, she pauses. “You’ve ruined me, James.”

Her voice is so pained that it makes his heart clench, and he lowers his head, refusing to look at her. He knows, God, he knows what he’s done, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so lonely with Lily spending so much time at the hospital, and then there she was with her caring and understanding nature. With her adorable laughs and those touches that were so addictive, a mercurial high that gave him the lowest lows whenever he tried to stop.

He keeps his mouth shut; there’s nothing left to say anyway, and it’s better for her to hate him rather than anything else. “You are not going to say anything?” It’s meek, vulnerable, and she wants to slap herself for acting this way. She knew it would never last, that he would always choose her.

He was never hers to lose, so why is she still fighting?

She nods her head in surrender, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing. The anger now gave way to sadness, “I can’t believe I let you make a fool of me.” Her voice is hoarse, a result of the lump in her throat that prevents her from swallowing comfortably.

She gets out of the car and slams the door shut, then leaves the parking lot, leaving him behind. She keeps walking, fingers gripping the straps of her bag until she reaches an empty street.

The golden sun is ready to dip on the horizon, and she can hear James’s car speeding behind her.

—

She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s inside her apartment.

The moment she closed the door, she crumbled to her knees, loud sobs falling from her mouth and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes her a moment to gather enough strength to walk to her room.

She cries and cries, buries her face in her pillows and starts sobbing even harder because she can smell him. The salty scent and citrus shampoo finally embedded themselves in the fabric, and she can’t believe that after all those days she craved to feel him close to her, he chooses now to leave a trace behind.

She cries for hours until her eyes are puffy and red, and snot comes out of her nose. Her chest heaves with short breaths that don’t really fill her lungs as she clings to that damn pillow before throwing it across the room. She can’t believe it ended like this: with her completely broken for anyone else while James gets to go back to his life and act like nothing ever happened.

Yet she knows that if she had to choose, she would do it all over again because if she had to choose someone to be her ruination, she would choose James Potter a million times.

TAGLIST: @emmaev @gxtitobxby @ildm4ev @capsmischief @arisblackhole @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @tonystarksmutgarden @blowing-mikey @roonilwazlibswhore @lovelylupinx @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @marxy-06 @glossiable @remusjlupinisdead @amixedwitch @mattefic @artisancowbells @zzzfour — if you want to be added tap here

[illyaana]

credits to the artists who made the fanarts I used!

Dorm Life - Shoto Todoroki

Thanks to @missuga for this collab! Sorry I gave to you late TwT Do check out their collab over here!

Tags: Shoto Todoroki x Reader, Binaural, Fluff, Cursing, Minor Angst, Kissing (escandalo)

Synopsis: A compilation of drabbles of your life during the pandemic, quarantined in the UA dorms.

Word Count: 2734

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CLASSES

The Sun let its light brush against your skin, giving you a warm hug in the morning. You awoke to the pale blue skies that were painted so elegantly it made you stare. The cumulus clouds softly danced on its stage, etching a smile on your face. You looked around the room, checking for the clock to see what time it was currently.

10:00 a.m. - You were supposed to wake up at 8:00.

Worry rushed through you. The fear of you being late for class thrummed as you tried to get out of your bed.

Hint: tried.

You turned to your side and looked at the male beside you. His hands had found their way around your waist, pulling you in. His head was pressed against your shoulder. His twin-colored hair was disheveled thanks to him turning himself all through the night, His long eyelashes framed his closed lids, his lips slightly parted. Small snores came out in intervals as he snuggled into you, his vice grip around your body tightening even more.

You could help but trace his lips with your finger - it was so soft, you had to.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then laid your forehead against his.

“Get up, Sho - class starts in 10 minutes,” you said, rubbing his shoulder.

“I don’t want to, this is too comfortable,” he mumbled, rubbing his head on your shoulder.

“What are you, a cat?” You joked, placing your hands on his cheek, “Let me at least get my laptop on - I can tell Aizawa we’re sharing my laptop and we can just join the class here.”

“Getting the laptop means that you move - and you are not moving,” he said, tightening his grip on you.

“You know we’re going to be in trouble if we don’t join the class, right? Oh yeah, it starts in 5 minutes,” you said, slightly annoyed at him.

Shoto sighs in defeat, “Fine - but, hurry up,”

You pry his arms off of you and rush to your table to get the laptop on. Thankfully, you managed to join the class 3 minutes before it began.

“Aren’t you coming back in here?” Todoroki whined, patting the space beside him.

“Are you finally awake?” You question him.

“Kind of?”

“ ‘Kind of?’ “

“Yes, I am awake - I no longer need to sleep,” he groans.

You take your laptop and place it in the space between the two of you as you sit back on the bed. You pressed another kiss on his forehead, making him smile.

“Good morning, snowflake,” he says as he returns your kiss with one on your forehead.

“Good morning, Sho.”

“Now that you both have shown a great deal of affection, Y/N and Shoto,” Eraserhead says from your Zoom call, “Can my class finally begin?”

⁜

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LUNCH BREAK

“I got the money from Aizawa for our meals! Can you all go through the menu and tell me what you want on the class group chat?” Momo shouted from the living room.

“Imagine eating great food for free?” Uraraka smiled, enjoying how our meals were paid for by the school itself, “The pandemic is amazing yet so annoying at the same time.”

You chuckle at the brown-haired girl, seeing her awe-filled expression.

“What are you getting?” You ask her.

“Hmm… maybe Udon? It’s been a long time since I ate it, and since it’s not coming from my pocket…” she eyed the menu, “I’m getting the most expensive one.”

“You know he gave a set amount for the whole class right?” You look at her mischievous expression.

“I’m pretty sure we can stay within the budget. Our class generally doesn’t spend much money on food, right?”

You looked across the room to see Kaminari and Kirishima going through the menu.

“You think those two will be reasonable with their spending? Knowing them, they’re most probably buying the whole menu plus snacks,” you say, looking at their joy-filled grins.

You saw Shoto walk beside Iida, heading towards the two males. Intrigued, you and Uraraka walked towards the group of four.

“Hey,” you say as you hug Shoto from the back, “Everything okay?”

“These two,” Iida said, anger laced in his words, “Ordered everything on the menu.”

You held back your laughter, unlike Uraraka.

“Your skills in predicting the future astound me, Y/N L/N,” she says, covering her mouth.

“Hush,” you say, smiling.

“The two of you…” Iida began, looking at the two wrongdoers, “I don’t know how your closer friends handle you two.”

You look at the scene unfolding in front of you, smiling.

Iida was full-on lecturing the two males, his hands moving in all ten directions. Kaminari and Kirishima just stood there, dumbfounded. You could see the two of them slowly spacing out from the ‘conversation’, but Iida kept going on.

“Hey,” Shoto whispered, “Wanna have a mini-date tonight? I’ll order a few things and get them sent here, and we can watch a movie together?”

“Don’t use the money Aizawa gave though - we don’t need a third victim of Iida’s lectures,” you whisper, earning a smile from the stoic male.

⁜

⁜

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MINI-DATES

You opened the door to Shoto’s room, comfortably dressed in your Axolotl onesie. In your hands, you brought a hard drive filled with movies that you felt that you both would enjoy. Seeing that Shoto wasn’t in the room, you laid on his bed, waiting for the arrival of the owner of the room. Your eyes went straight to his mirror. He had slid multiple polaroid pictures of you and your friends in the corners of the mirror. Each one of the photos had a small remark, reminding you of all the memories you’ve made throughout your years in UA.

Your hands grazed on the photo he kept on the bedside table.

It was a picture of him and his mother smiling.

Your chest panged when you saw it. He had told you the story behind his scar and his life within the Todoroki household. His hatred for his father grew every day, yet he could never hate his mother - the very person who gave him the scar on his face.

“I love that picture, but not as much as I love this one,” Shoto said, pointing at a photo in the top-left corner of his mirror.

It was a picture of both of you visiting his mother with Fuyumi and Natsuo.

“I’ll admit Natsuo was not the most welcoming to the idea of me dating you, but he slowly loved you as a sibling. I did talk about you to Fuyumi a bunch of times, but she had her suspicions - that all changed when she met you, though. Mom…”

He hesitated, “...she didn’t like the idea of me dating anyone. Yet, you managed to make her like you so much, now she only asks about you whenever I call her,” he chuckled.

“My family loves you - except Endeavor, of course,” he groaned.

“He’ll come around, eventually. You, however,” you walk up to him and cup his face, “Need to talk to him properly - no filter, just say everything.”

You lie back down on the bed, patting the space beside you, “Hurry up - the snacks you bought are calling me.”

After multiple small banters, you both finally decided on Shrek and began to watch the movie.

After a while, you found yourself lying on Shoto’s chest, playing with his fingers as you focused on the movie. Shoto, however, stared at your cute expressions, taking mental notes of all the small things you did when a scene disgusted you, made you laugh or made you feel sad.

“Y/N,” he whispered in your ear once the movie ended, “Thanks for loving me.”

You turned to face the fire user, cupping his face in your hands. His fingers found their way in your hair, enjoying the feeling of your soft locks against his calloused skin. Your thumb began to move in circular motions, eager to feel his soft skin against yours. You stared into his dual-coloured eyes, enjoying the brown and icy blue flecks within each eye. He relaxed against your touch, warmth radiating from him to you.

“I love you so much, Sho - and I will no matter what happens later on.”

You shared a kiss under the glow of the pale moonlight, but all you cared about was how perfect the man you were kissing was.

⁜

⁜

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TRAINING

“Hey Sho,” you say, nudging the male beside you, “You wanna train after this?”

“I can’t,” he said, looking down, “I asked Midoriya to help me with some things. The only time he’s free is after this, so…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Uraraka!” you say, kissing him on the cheek, “Good luck with whatever you’re doing with Mido.”

Soon, both you and Uraraka headed to Ground Beta to train your hand-to-hand combat.

“Luckily all of us are vaccinated, or the training grounds wouldn’t be open,” you say, thinking.

“Okay, okay - you wanted to work on hand-to-hand combat, right?” You nodded.

Both you and Uraraka got into your positions, mentally preparing yourselves. You were ready to move towards her until you heard sounds coming from the entrance.

“Well, well, well - isn’t that two students from Class 3-A?” Monoma snickered.

You groaned before turning to face him.

“Hello, Monoma? Where’s Kendo?” you ask, hoping that the ginger would come and stop him.

“Kendo’s eating right now - don’t want to disturb her. I don’t mind messing with the two of you, though.”

“What’s the difference, Monoma?” Uraraka added, “We usually keep quiet, but Y/N and I would like to train, so it would be greatly appreciated if you either kept quiet or left.”

“Why would you want to train with them, though?” He said, looking at Uraraka, “They’re the weakest bitch in your whole class, aren’t they?”

“The fuck, Monoma?!” you shouted, “That’s going a bit too far, don’t you think?”

“What? I’m just stating facts; you entered the class later than everyone else, you’re quirkless since you depend on your weapons, you need to train with others so that you can win 10% of the time - don’t the facts say it all?”

“Monoma, you might want to - ”

“Stop? Why should I?” he laughed, “It’s about time someone told you the truth; you’re useless, unneeded, a waste of space, and never going to be a hero - not even a sidekick.”

“So, the student who single-handedly served you your own ass in a fight doesn’t deserve to stay, but your weak fucking self can stay?” Shoto chuckled darkly, his hand slowly freezing Monoma’s shoulder, “That’s a lot of self-confidence for someone who hasn’t fought well for 3 years straight.”

“Next time you talk shit about Y/N, don’t expect to leave without losing any limbs,” he shouted, scaring Monoma.

“Shoto,” you begin, “Let me fight my own battles.”

He stares at you and sighs. His vice grip on Monoma loosens as you walk towards him.

You run your sword against his hands, small cuts forming.

“Talk shit about me again and you won’t be standing. Get the fuck out, dumbass.”

Monoma runs out of Ground Beta, making you chuckle.

“Damn, Y/N,” Uraraka says from afar.

“That’s my lover,” Shoto says, smiling.

⁜

⁜

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NIGHTMARES

You woke up to the sounds of Shoto whimpering in his sleep.

His clothes were soaked by his sweat, trails of tears strung down his face.

He was shaking - shivering.

Small screams of Natsuo, Fuyumi and Rei’s names escaped his lips along with soft sobs.

“Shoto!” You shouted, shaking him, “Wake up, it’s only a dream - they’re okay, they’re alive.”

You heard your name.

You heard his voice become louder, screaming your name in pain.

“I’m here, I’m fine,” you whisper in his ear.

“I’m right here, Shoto - I haven’t left you. I am here, hugging you. Wake up, okay?’

You heard his whimpers stop as he wrapped his arms around you. He nuzzled his face into your chest as you patted his head.

“Y/N…” you heard him mumble, “Y/N… you’re fine, right?”

“I’m fine, Sho. I’m here hugging you, aren’t I?”

He nodded, pressing his head against your chest.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No…” he trailed off.

“Okay, don’t worry,” you say, kissing him on his head.

“You want me to get you something? Milk, water…?” you ask him, slowly prying yourself off of him.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Ok then, koala - I’m not going anywhere,” you say, chuckling.

You hummed a song as you rubbed Shoto’s back, giving him warmth. You wiped the trail of tears and pressed kisses on his cheek.

If he needs you to be his haven, you’ll be an oasis from all the bad.

⁜

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⁜

CLASS FUN

“Ok, so - everyone is here, right?” Mina said as she stood in the middle of the living room.

You looked at everyone in the living room. Everyone was excited - after all, it’s been a long time since you all did something together as a class.

“I think everyone’s here, Mina,” Shouji said, passing you your drink.

Shoto placed his head on your shoulder, groaning.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask, worried.

“I wanted to just sleep in today…” he said, sulking.

“Come on, it’s been a long time since we did something as a class - who knows? This might be our last little thing as a class,” you retort.

He hummed in agreement, “Fine.”

“Great! Let’s bring back an old classic, shall we? The game that made all the couples in this classroom, the game that made the impossible possible,” she looked at Bakugou and Izuku, “Spin the Bottle Truth or Dare!”

“This fucking game?” Bakugo cussed.

“Relax, Kacchan~,” Kaminari said, teasing the other blonde.

“Shut up, dunce face,” Bakugo said with anger.

“Keep quiet, you two. Mina’s getting angry,” Kirishima said, eyeing the pink-haired female.

“So what if-”

“Kacchan, shush,” Izuku said, glaring at his partner.

“Thank you, my green-haired savior,” Mina said, smiling at Izuku.

“Let me re-explain how the game works; Person A will spin the bottle in the middle of the circle until it stops on Person B. Person A will play truth or dare with Person B. Clear?” Mina said, smiling.

The game soon spiraled out of control, just like everyone expected.

Kaminari danced in a maid dress, Shinsou was forced to call Aizawa and Present Mic ‘dads’ in a call on speaker, Kirishima was forced to scream “I’m hard!” out loud, and Mina sang Baby Shark to her lover - something we never thought Kirishima would enjoy.

In the last round, the bottle landed on Shoto.

The person who spun the bottle was Sero.

You knew he had something planned - you could see it in his eyes.

“Shoto Todoroki, truth or dare?” He said, smirking.

You looked at him, begging him to not choose dare.

“Truth, I guess?” he said, looking at you.

Phew.

“What do you and Y/N do when you’re alone?”

Shit.

“Take dare, take the dare, take the dare…” you mumbled under your breath, hoping he’d listen.

“Can I take the dare?” Shoto said, questioning your actions.

Phew.

“Make out with Y/N right here.”

Shit.

“Give them some privacy, Sero!” Uraraka shouted on your behalf.

“He already evaded the truth question, I’m not modifying the dare,” Sero said, huffing.

“Y/N,” Shoto said, looking at you, “Is it okay?”

You sigh in frustration, “I put us in this situation, Sho. Let’s just get it over with.”

Shoto smiled, looking at your pissed expression.

“Look at me,” he whispered in your ear, raising small goosebumps on your skin.

His hands slowly went to your cheeks, eyeing the flecks in your eyes - how they sparkled just for him and him alone. His thumb reached your lips and parted it - enjoying how you were putty in his hands. His hand slowly went from your cheek to your chin, raising it to make your forehead meet his.

“Geez, Y/N,” he said, lust filling his eyes, “You’re so perfect.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours. He sucked on your lips, enjoying the strawberry lip balm you put just before you entered the living room. Your hands gripped on his dual-colored hair, fingers entangled.

The soft kiss soon turned desperate, needy.

In, out, in, out - the synchronization of your lips.

The need for breath soon came and your lips parted from his.

“Well, that was something,” you said, laughing.

⁜

⁜

⁜

[hslotharrie]

To My Best Friend

summary: reader faces quarantine at Harry’s and, turns out, it was exactly what they needed to come clean. also, Anne is the superior Mum.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: completely fluff. with marriage + mentions of family? not edited... when do I ever edit

based off of this ask<3

When you wake, the sun is shining through a slightly opened window in the far left corner of your bedroom. You can hear birds chirping amongst themselves from outside, cars driving far in the distance, it's quiet at Harry's home. Peaceful.

It's been a little more than four months since you and Harry decided to bubble at the beginning of quarantine. What you expected to be a few weeks turned into a lot more, but there were no complaints. Harry has the space, is the type to crave company, and you're his best friend.

Best friend.

You roll in the soft sheets, hugging the covers for a few minutes until you inevitably force yourself to get up for the day. You're not sure what sort of expensive luxury bed set this is, but god, they are comfy. You make a mental note to ask him later.

You zone out again on the soft sounds of the birds and the pleasant cool breeze flowing in through the window. You pull your phone from the bedside table to check the time, 10:56– and the weather, sunny and 78. You consider getting in the pool later.

Harry's phone rings somewhere outside of your room, followed by some muffled mumbling from the man himself signalling that he's awake too. You wonder if he's ate yet; he's a sucker for your omelettes and you're craving one about now.

You climb out of bed,  going to the bathroom to tame your hair and brush your teeth, before heading to the kitchen to put together ingredients for the omelettes.

It's about 10 minutes before Harry appears in the kitchen, provoked by the smell. He places a hand on your lower back as a silent 'good morning!' while he stands to your side to admire your cooking. You try your best to ignore the warm feeling that his touch brings; the feeling that makes you wish for more than just a touch.

It makes you nervous, how quickly his presence has you feeling butterflies or how fast he can make you smile when you're in the darkest of moods. You've been sitting on the feelings for years, they were always there, hiding in the back of your head. The feelings that made you wish you'd shared that drink with him just for the second-hand contact to his lips.

Those are the thoughts that make you nervous. You try not to think about them when he's standing right next to you watching your every move with a wandering hand on the small of your back.

He's dressed in a colourful flannel and some shorts, you notice, much different than your fresh out of bed joggers and t-shirt. You make a mental note to change later, and you consider stealing one of his flannels (there's the thoughts again,) just to have his smell on you.

He pulls away from you to begin setting up the eating area, bringing out cups and silverware and then returning with a plate when he senses the omelette is nearly done. He stands to your left with the plate held in both hands like an excited toddler and when you flip the breakfast meal onto his plate he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead in thanks. The thoughts come rushing back; I like when you kiss me, Harry.

"D'you have any plans for today?" he quizzes, before taking a drink of his orange juice.

"Was thinking about going in the pool later," you tell him, "it seemed nice out, an' I love your pool."

"I rather like my pool too," he chuckles "I'll join you, yeah? Could go for a swim later."

When you finish eating, Harry takes the plates to wash despite your protests. You cooked, he argues, so he cleans. You glance at the time, almost 12, and decide that the time it will take to change and freshen up will be enough for your stomach to settle and therefore a swim will be safe.

Returning upstairs, you first search for a bikini and then your sunglasses, changing and adding a pair of shorts. You brush your hair, throughly this time, and tie it up to avoid contact with the chlorinated water.

Before you go back downstairs, you take a minute to look at yourself in the mirror— doing your best not to allow the thoughts to come forward. (You don't think about how your body will look to Harry, and you definitely don't allow yourself to think about what he might think about the bikini you chose. Absolutely not.)

When you return downstairs to the kitchen, the dishes are washed and on the drying rack. Grabbing two cups and straws, you fill each about half with ice and then filtered water; and carry them both out to the poolside where Harry sits contently in the sun.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry's eyes travel along your body through his sunglasses when you appear from inside of the house, wishing he could touch you. His brain flicks back to the phone call he had this morning with his Mum, how she encouraged him to make a move because she knows you're meant to be. His stomach flips thinking about it.

"Do you remember when we went to that party and you pushed that guy into the pool because he was flirting with me?" you smile, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the cold waters.

"Mm, we had to leave because he was gonna' beat me up," Harry chuckles, "I was drunk. Probably lucky he ended up in the pool."

"You were being protective! It was cute!" you defend,  rubbing his back lazily in comfort. He looks at you in a funny way, smile faltering a little before he returns his eyes back to the pool.

"M'gonna test the waters so the princess doesn't freeze," He proposes, rising from his seat when you give him a playful smack.

You rise as well, shimmying off your loose shorts and moving to sit at the side of the pool. Watching harry submerge himself first, you let your legs dangle off of the edge and into the water. It's cold, but a pleasant, enjoyable cold in the hot sun.

You sit contently for a few minutes, enjoying the water on your legs and watching harry swim back and forth. You lean back and turn your attention somewhere else, trying to avoid being caught staring.  Suddenly, though, a hand brushes up the side of one of your submerged legs, informing you of Harry's presence.

"Y'coming in?" he asks, standing now. He's tall, so your faces are about level now.

"Are you in a hurry?" He's close enough now that he's dripping cold water on your skin.

"Maybe,"

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist to lift you and pull you into the water. You squeal, grabbing his shoulders as leverage as he practically drops you into the water that feels ice cold against your warm sunny skin. He laughs loud and happy when you splash water in his direction as payback.

Soon, both of your energies mellow out. Harry's on his phone, while you're floating around in a doughnut shaped floatie. Harry snaps a photo, but you don't notice.

When it's time to get out, Harry offers to go grab the towels while you float around for a few more minutes. He's driving you crazy in the best way. Your skin still tingles where he had touched your sides to lift you into the water, and your palms burn with the memory of his bare shoulders.

When he returns, it's like his energy has changed. The sight of a shirt over his chest makes you frown momentarily, and he's light on his feet rather than the happy strides he took on his way into his home. You see him tuck his phone into his pocket as if he's been talking to someone again, and when his eyes meet yours the wide smile is hiding something else.

When you slip out of the doughnut and climb up the pool ladder, he mumbles a soft "c'mere" and wraps the towel around your shoulders. His eyes watch you for a little longer than they should've.

"Mum called again," He murmurs.

"I's she doing well? Is that who called this morning?" you question, keeping your attention on his eyes.

"Yeah, woke you up I suppose,"

"Not at all!" You defend.

He goes quiet, picking at his fingernails (a nervous habit you notice he's developed since beginning to paint his nails) and looking off to the side to avoid holding eye contact with you. This makes you nervous, he's never this way around you.

"Harry,"

"I'm sorry, 'shouldn't be such a big deal," he says, letting out an awkward laugh.

A soft smile appears on your face, taking his hands into yours to part them. Gently, you move towards him, pressing yourself wordlessly into his body and allowing his hands to wrap around your towel-covered body. It brings him comfort, and you ignore your own heart beating at the contact.

"Better?"

"A little." He admits. He loves holding you, and sure, it helps his nerves, but he's going to tell you.

His Mum's been on him since he told her you'd be staying with him, telling him “now or never, Harry!”, and he's beginning to realize it really is now or never. He doesn't know how long quarantine will keep up or how much longer you will decide to stay, and he misses you even when you're just running something as simple as a grocery trip.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows a friendship as strong as yours could work through anything, Still, there's always the possibility that things could go bad. “Get out of your head!'”Anne would say.

This type of topic between the two of you is quite common, given Harry's music and your tendency to be quite open. However, this type of topic concerning the two of you is uncharted territory.

He thinks about the story you'd brought up earlier. When you'd both went to a party together and some guy, very obviously drunker than the both of you, tried to flirt his way into your pants before Harry had pushed him into the pool himself.

The truth is, he knew you would hold your ground if you weren't interested. Actually, Harry knows from first-hand experience that you don't need protection, you can be very vocal when you need to be, and he's even seen you deck someone at the bar a few years back for touching one of your friends. You were the protector.

That's why, upon seeing Harry at such a nervous loss of words, you had hugged him. It was your own way of protecting him.

"I wasn't trying t'protect you when I pushed that guy into the pool." He states, quiet and unsure.

You only hum in reply, allowing him to finish his sentence but letting him know you heard what he said.

" 'was jealous."

What?

"What?" you pull away from him only slightly, “why?"

"I didn't want stupid—" he pauses for the name "Josh, or whatever, t'be the one to take y'home."

You give him a confused look, now that you can see his face. Not putting two and two together.

"Josh is great! I love Josh—"

"More than me?" he murmurs, and it clicks.

Oh.

"Of course not... Harry," you hesitate, watching his eyes move between your own and his jaw clench.

Is this happening?

"I wanted," his shaky hand finds your arm, sliding down to take hold of your own, equally shaky left hand to toy with your fingers.

"I wanted t'take you home. Crawl into bed with you. Whatever else." he finishes. His stomach is in butterflies by now and he feels the tight, anxiety feeling in his lungs.

It catches him completely off guard when your lips are on his.

When you try to pull away, scared you've overstepped, his mouth only follows your own and his hand rises to your jaw to hold you steady. He feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, holding you, kissing you, like this. This is what he's needed.

When you finally do pull away, it's to go inside. Harry erupts in happy laughter when you make a beeline up the stairs. Nothing happens though, it's too soon and Harry agrees, but that doesn't stop you from curling into Harry's sheets, cuddling and kissing each other while watching one of your favourite films.

Catching up on missed time.

***

The wedding reception.

How did we end up here?

"Honestly," Harry speaks loudly to the crowd of your family and friends within the dinner hall "I have two people to thank for sealing the deal."

You smile wildly, knowing exactly which story he's about to bring up. Your eyes travel through the table groups you and Harry had spent so much time planning out. When your eyes catch with Mitch's he gives you a wink.

"Anne, my beautiful Mother, thank you for not letting me coward out of finally telling my girl how I felt," he pauses, you place a hand on his knee

"And Josh—"

You can't hold back the laugh, especially when the entire room turns to face the poor, completely unsuspecting victim. Josh, face red and confused smile on his lips.

"Years ago, when I pushed you into that pool at your birthday party because— you would've killed me if I didn't run! Because you were talking to her and I got jealous!" the room is erupting in laughter.

The room is full of the most important people in your's and Harry's lives. Still though, your happy eyes are glued to Harry, working the small crowd of people as per usual and telling a story about the time of and before quarantine; of when you'd basically moved in with him and never left.

Later, when you're wrapped in warm blankets and Harry's arms, you're reflecting on your day. The guests, who you'd talked to, what you'd heard.

"Wow. I'm married." he dumbfounds.

Wow is right.

"We're married." you restate for him, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wow. I'm married to my best friend.”

Giggles boil over in the dark room. Harry is astonished suddenly, pupils blown, wide grin on his face. He presses quick kisses to the side of your face and you snuggle into his side more.

"I think we win, H."

[teawaffles]

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 2

Two days after that. The normally-unused hall had undergone a complete transformation — and Fred was stunned.

“Wow……”

Sitting before him were three large water tanks, roughly five metres wide. Within each one were some aquatic plants, as well as 20 to 30 fish in a range of vibrant colours and distinctive appearances. They swam through the water, sometimes gracefully, sometimes powerfully — the beauty of the aquaria was simply overwhelming.

“What do you think, Fred?” asked Louis, as he walked up to him.

Without taking his gaze off the tanks, Fred shared his thoughts.

“I’ve never seen such beautiful fish. Are they all from other countries?”

“Indeed. Southeast Asia, Africa, and South America — I heard that they were collected from these three regions and brought here via special channels. There was a concern that the quality of our local water would not be suitable, hence even the water has been directly imported from their native rivers and lakes.”

“The scale here sure is different……”

Even the water that filled these tanks had been procured from the fishes’ native habitats: once again, the thoroughness of this endeavour left Fred in awe.

“I’m planning to bring in more of Herder’s equipment at a later date; but for now, all I can do is to watch over them like this…… Oh?”

Noticing something strange, Louis peered into one of the tanks.

Before his eyes, a small pufferfish was biting the fins of its tank mates. Looking at the other aquaria, it was clear that other tiny skirmishes had broken out.

Seeing the colourful fish engaged in unbecoming violence, Fred looked puzzled.

“It seems even fish need to be compatible with one another.”

“Indeed. It looks like it isn’t enough to simply divide them by their native regions.”

Hesitating a little, Louis slowly put his hand into the tank, and broke up the fishes’ fight as gently as possible. [1] Confirming that the conflict had been resolved for now, he breathed a sigh.

However, Fred spoke up in concern.

“If it’s already like this from the start, Mr Louis, then it looks like it’s going to be quite difficult for you.”

“Still, it must be done. ——For the sake of William’s plan.”

Hearing those words filled with conviction, once again, Fred could feel the strength of Louis’s emotions toward his brother.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Two days after the fish had moved into the mansion, the hall underwent another transformation.

The curtains had been drawn, and the entire room was dim. The large water tanks had been removed, and around twenty small aquaria were now lined up in their stead. Each tank was outfitted with the latest cutting-edge machinery to assist in the fishes’ upkeep.

In charge of their care, Louis quietly strolled among the tanks, scrutinising the fishes’ appearances one by one.

“Yo, Louis. How are they?”

Just as he’d completed his round of checks, Moran and Fred entered the hall.

Looking at his notes on the conditions of his charges, Louis answered in a businesslike manner.

“There are no problems at present. I’ve finally managed to understand their individual dispositions, hence their care should proceed more smoothly from here.”

“That’s great — though, it has gotten a little crowded in here.”

Moran looked around the room. Beside him, Fred was staring curiously at a device attached to the top of the tank.

“Is this machine necessary for taking care of them?”

“Yeah, it’s called a filter: it serves to improve the water quality,” Louis explained briefly.

In order to ensure he'd covered all bases, Louis spared no effort in his research, making detailed reports to Herder as he employed a variety of equipment in the fishes’ care.

Certainly, for the aquaria to be mechanised to such an extent, the level of technology required was several steps ahead of its time. To use such revolutionary technology for the sole purpose of rearing tropical fish: one could even call it extravagant.

As Moran watched the machines in operation, a dubious look crossed his face.

“These guys have been living in the wild up to this point, so it does feel a bit pitiful for them to be shut indoors all day. Why don’t you let them swim in the big pond outside once in a while?”

But Louis gently dismissed his proposal.

“I understand where you’re coming from; but we have to consider issues like how they would adapt to the water, and so I have refrained from doing that.”

“Then, at least bring the tanks outside so they can enjoy the sun.”


“That can’t be done either. If the aquaria were to be placed under direct sunlight, there would be other problems such as algal growth and spikes in water temperature. Hence, the day-night cycle has been replicated using artificial light.”

“An artificial sun, huh. All thanks to the development of industry,” Moran muttered.

Louis turned his gaze toward the lights installed above the tanks.

“These incandescent bulbs and other electrical technologies are still yet to be widespread — one can really feel the portent of Mr Herder’s work.” [2] [3]

As the two men made small talk, Fred watched the fish in the aquaria, his face aglow.

Then, the door to the hall opened.

Rhythmic footsteps echoed, and in came William.

“Nii-san.”

Louis broke off his conversation with Moran, and turned to face his brother.

“How has your work been?”

“It’s going well. Once we convey to Stapleton that we’re keeping tropical fish, I’m sure his interest will be piqued.”

“That’s good to hear. I hope your contact with him will be a success.”

“Thank you. And I’m glad to see that the fish are doing well. As I thought, it was the right decision to entrust their care to you, Louis.”

“I owe that to both your and Mr Herder’s help.”

Even as his reply was modest, Louis puffed out his chest.

Watching how close the two brothers were, the elder Moran smiled. But as he looked at the aquaria again, a tiny doubt suddenly struck him.

“By the way, we’re keeping these fish so we can meet with this Stapleton guy, right? Then when that’s done, what’ll happen to them?”

Louis tilted his head slightly as he pondered.

“Well…… As far as I understood his nature, in all likelihood, he’ll want to take the fish. In that case, we’ll probably hand them all over to him.”

He’d said that with a straight face, and Moran was stunned.

“Really? Don’t you think we should keep at least one of these tanks in the mansion?”

“No, not at all. These fish were collected for the sole purpose of my brother’s plan — they are simply a means to an end, and I hold no greater affection for them beyond that.”

“I-I see……”

For Moran and Louis, even as they shared William’s ambitions as his comrades, they knew full well they were but one of his chess pieces: if he were to order them to die, they were prepared to lay down their lives at any moment.

These fish were also no more than tools — everyone in the room understood that. But upon hearing how bluntly Louis put it, the older man could not hide his astonishment.

Next to them, William glanced over the fish.

“Still, they do look rather healthy, swimming around like that. For one, the colours of these Puntius rhomboocellatus are rather vibrant.”

“Ah, so that’s their name? It’s quite a mouthful.”

What William had just mentioned was the scientific name of the fish. In the event that Louis was unable to care for the fish, Moran and Fred had also familiarised themselves with their names just in case; but since they felt rather formal, Moran didn’t use them very much.

At his brother’s satisfied expression, Louis beamed with joy.

“You have a wonderful eye for aesthetics, nii-san. Besides those, I would also recommend the Mikrogeophagus ramirezi.”

“Hm, they’re a beautiful shade of blue. Though I personally like the Neolamprologus brichardi over here as well.”

“I see. Then what do you think about the Julidochromis transcriptus and Pelvicachromis taeniatus? Both are from Africa too.”

“……You know, it’s great that you guys get along so well — but can we leave it at that?”

Moran’s eye twitched. But they ignored his puzzlement, and continued their jargon-filled exchange.

“Still, taking the practical view, I quite like these Corydoras paleatus for cleaning up remnants of food from the tank. On the other hand, these Laubuka dadiburjori will jump out of the aquaria if they’re left uncovered, and I had a hard time finding tank mates for the Boraras urophthalmoides.”

“Speaking of utility, Louis: I suppose you would fancy the algae-eating Siamese flying fox as well?”

“Fufu, you see through everything, nii-san. Oh, please look over here: the Nannostomus beckfordi are spreading their fins.” [4]

“——Stop! Stop! No more of that talk!”

Reaching the limit of his patience, Moran stepped between the two brothers, yanking them out of their own world.

Their conversation interrupted, Louis looked puzzled. “What’s the matter, Mr Moran? I was just about to show him the Triple Red Apistogramma cacatuoides.”

“You guys are getting completely carried away, and leaving the rest of us behind! And what’s with those bloody names? This isn’t some university lecture!”

Beside him, Fred was pointing at the fish one by one, murmuring the names that had come up in the brothers’ exchange. Clearly, he was making sure he remembered their names properly.

Quizzical, Louis responded. “They might be troublesome for you…… But my brothers and I memorised them in one shot.”

“Y-You’re kidding, right?” Moran paled.

“They really are on another level……”

Astonished, Fred also stopped what he was doing.

Hailing from a noble family, Moran himself was an Oxford graduate; in addition, Fred also possessed an above-average intellect. But when confronted with the intellectual abilities of the three Moriarty brothers, who were able to memorise such complex names in just one go, the two men were unable to hide their amazement.

“I mean, wouldn’t it be easier to give them nicknames instead?”

At Moran’s suggestion, Louis put a hand under his chin.

“Nicknames, hmm…… I haven’t had any problems so far, but giving them simpler names might be a good idea.”

“Right? It’s insufferable to have to listen to those curse-like words every time I come here.”

“Let’s try it then. But I will be rejecting any distasteful ones,” Louis quipped.

Moran looked around the room, his gaze landing on a tank with a school of guppies swimming within.

“Alright….. Then how about we call these ‘Fred’?”

Behind his glasses, Louis’s eyes widened.

“We’re giving them our own names?”

“It’s fine, innit? It’s a lot better than calling them ‘Mr Guppies’ or something.”

“It’s certainly easy to say—— But even so, why call the guppies Fred?”

“Because they’re small and agile, aren’t they?” Moran grinned.

Fred shot him a dubious look. “Is your reasoning that simple……?”

That logic did seem a little problematic; William, who’d been watching from the side, made a troubled face.

“Since you’re adept at disguising yourself, Fred: if we were to name a fish after you, it should something like a leaffish that uses mimicry. Moreover, guppies already have a rather simple name, so I don’t think it’s necessary to give them another one.”

“It’ll be fine — it’s best to go with your gut for such things. Anyway, it’s decided then: the guppies will be called ‘Fred’.”

It seemed that for once, Moran was unwilling to listen to William’s words.

Then, another aquarium caught his eye. Fascinated, he gazed at the sole inhabitant within.

“Ooh, this guy has the tank all to himself, eh? I like that feeling of aloofness — this one’s gonna be called ‘Moran’.”

The fish Moran had just given his own name to, was in fact the tiny pufferfish that had to be isolated on the very first day, after attacking the other fish.

“Ah, about that one……”

Louis did want to explain why the pufferfish was all alone; but seeing how excited Moran was, he hesitated.

However, Moran seemed to have taken that pause in a different light.

“Oi oi, did you like this one too? Sorry, but it’s first come first served — so I get to name him.”

“R-Right. If you’re fine with that one, then……”

Moran looked like he was really enjoying himself, and so Louis decided to keep his silence on the truth about Moran’s new namesake.

Along with Louis, Fred had also witnessed what the pufferfish did on the day it arrived. It pained him a little to see Moran blissfully unaware of that, and he looked away.

Then, a certain tank caught his eye.

“These are quite like Mr William and his brothers.”

“Eh?”

Intrigued, William and Louis followed his gaze.

Dancing before their eyes was a group of beautiful fish with an almost divine air around them — ones that could even be called kings of the aquarium.

“——Angelfish?”

Within the tank, three angelfish were swimming in close formation. They had glittering silver scales, with black stripes running vertically down their sides. That closeness truly reminded one of the Moriarty brothers, bound to one another with firm ties.

Their name brought to mind angels, and William could not help but chuckle in self-mockery.

“I think that’s the last thing we should ever be called.”

“Not at all. In a way, you three are angels — but more of the ones who sound the trumpets in the Book of Revelation.” [5]

At that ironic turn of phrase, William let out another meaningful laugh.

Beside them, with a somewhat absent-minded look, Louis admired the fish he’d grown so familiar with.

“Though, just as Fred said, their elegant appearance certainly befits both William and Albert nii-sama.”

“No need to be modest, Louis: you are just as noble as they are.”

“T-Thank you very much, nii-san.”

Louis turned a little pink at that. Looking at the three fish swimming together, Moran nodded enthusiastically.

“Then starting from the front of the group, their names will be ‘William’, ‘Albert’ and ‘Louis’.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing……” William smiled bashfully.

Moran walked away from the tank. “Both Louis and Fred agree with it, so it’ll be fine. Anyway, I’ll be off.”

“Eh? What about the rest?”

Fred called out to him just as he was about to leave the room, and Moran ruffled his hair as he replied.

“Now that I think about it, there’re just way too many of them. We’ve already named five of them after ourselves — that should be fine for now.”

“I guess……”

Faced with Moran’s overly freewheeling attitude, Fred was lost for words.

“…………”

Under normal circumstances, Louis would saddle Moran with some chores at this point. But his attention was still drawn to the tank with the angelfish.

He had yet to notice it himself; but their three names, now conferred onto those fish, had set off tiny ripples in his heart.

Footnotes:

T/N: Yuumori is set in the early 1880s — you can read more about that here.

[1] Yes, Louis did just put his hand into a tank with a pufferfish 😥

[2] Edison’s first light bulb had been invented less than ten years prior, and this used a carbon filament — tungsten filaments would not be developed until the early 1900s. (Wikipedia)

[3] At this time in history, electricity really was the preserve of the rich and few — even in 1919, only 6% of UK households had electricity (Science Museum UK). Interestingly, AC (alternating current) power systems were starting to be adopted in the UK around this period. (Wikipedia)

Aside: The ‘artificial sun’ gave me flashbacks to the manga Letter Bee… (Wikipedia)

[4] This is a form of threatening behaviour between fish.

[5] Moran is referring to the seven angels that blow trumpets to bring about seven cataclysmic events, as described in the New Testament (Wikipedia). Seraph of the End fans would be familiar with this one :3

Translator’s notes

Louis’s honorifics

I know I used “Louis-san” in the manga scanlation, but I’m just going to go with my gut and use “Mr Louis” here :x

[azaleablueme]

Inexplicably Fond

There was something inexplicably soul-stirring about her touch- no matter how innocent, no matter how fleeting. Romione one-shot Genre: Romance Era: Books HBP Words: 2232 FFN  AO3 ..... There was something inexplicably soul-stirring about her touch- no matter how innocent, no matter how fleeting. Ron knew it always of course - the first realisation had been back in their third year when she had flown into his arms after months of not talking to each other. But it hit him more powerfully now - after having almost lost his life, after a disastrous chance at romance that was only fueled by the need to prove his worth. Lavender had only broken up with him a couple of days ago. Although he was relieved, the guilt of having dragged her into the mess still weighed heavy on his heart. Especially because while Lavender seemed genuinely miserable, he was at peace having returned where he truly belonged. The soft sounds of their shoes clicking on the stone floor brought him to his present and he looked around. The moon was bright in the sky tonight, flickering in and out of view as clouds floated across the pre-spring sky. The moonbeams filtered in through the small windows high up in the ceiling, lighting up the otherwise eerily dark corridor. He wasn’t quite sure why they were patrolling this part of the castle tonight; the Astronomy Tower and the neighbouring corridors were usually taken up by the Ravenclaw prefects on Tuesdays. But he was not going to question her choice of path or ask why they had deviated away from the usual route. He had sorely missed spending this alone-time with her all these months, and just having her close, walking beside him in the quiet of the night, in comfortable silence brought him more peace than anything ever had. There was something different about Hermione tonight. She didn’t seem to be her normal self - she mostly ignored the common classrooms where the rule-breaking students lurked, skipped the two tapestries that were famous for hiding couples. She didn’t even take out points from the two third-years who were busy scribbling rude words in the History of Magic classroom. And now she had guided them to a place which was definitely not chalked out for their rounds.

He was just about to ask when there was the softest touch of her finger on his. He almost forgot to breathe and sucked in a breath. It was surely a coincidence. And then there it was again - just a graze of skin over his finger, the touch lingering just long enough to tell him that it was intentional.

Despite the quiet or perhaps because of it, he was suddenly inexplicably aware of every little sound, that of their perfectly in-sync footsteps, the faint rustling of the forest outside, the gasp that escaped his lips, the soft sound of her whimper… He stopped on his track and so did she.

Tentatively and praying with all his might that he was doing the right thing, he stretched his fingers just a little and as expected, they came in contact with hers. The tip of his index finger traced hers, once, twice.

In the six years of their friendship, they had shared many hugs. Held hands, bumped knees, teased each other playfully. But this was different.

Hyper aware of the faint sound of their breathing, and the feel of her soft skin against his rough fingers, he sought her out a little more, his fingers now touching the tips of hers, silently asking permission, begging to let him hold her hand. He could barely see anything, and yet he had never been so aware, so in the moment. 

Her fingers curled just the smidge and her small hand was suddenly encased in his - and despite the innocence of the act, he knew this was something new in their relationship. The pad of his thumb traced her wrist and she sucked in a breath. 

He slowly turned to his left towards her, not being able to make out much in the darkness as the moon hid behind a cloud but she took a couple of steps back - and he was only beginning to question if she wanted him to let go when there was that sound again - a soft whimper as if she was trying to cut down her sobs. Pain tore through him like never before. What had he done this time to make her cry that way? He would have asked but then she suddenly tugged him a little by the arm and caught him off-guard; he just about stopped himself from crashing onto her by placing his free palm against the stone wall behind her. 

Her finger traced over his in the smallest of touches, he still couldn’t see her face as she hung her head and this time when she whimpered again, he let go of all inhibitions and cupped her face with his free hand. Sure enough, there was moisture beneath her eyes. He swiped away the tear with his thumb before putting the smallest amount of pressure on her to lift her face and meet his eyes.

“Hurt you again, haven’t I?” he asked in the softest of whispers. There was no one who could overhear them, not even a portrait but somehow it was important that only she heard his words.

She nodded her head in negative, her hair swinging mesmerisingly and sniffed and wrapped her fingers around his wrist while he swiped the pad of his thumb tenderly over her cheek. 

This was beyond what best friends did. He had a girlfriend for a fair few months - he hadn’t shared a tender moment like this even once.  “Are you still mad at me?”  She denied yet again. “Are you scared?” She met his eyes, and in the momentary moonlight, he could see her tear-rimmed eyes. She mouthed a small ‘no’ this time.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He swiped his tongue slowly over his bottom lip before he found his voice.

“Did you… miss me?”

There was a small pause before she nodded once and suddenly he could feel moisture trickle down her cheek. The moonlight broke through the gap in the clouds again. As it filtered in through the neatly arranged windows, it cast long beams that fell on the wall in a stripe-like pattern through the length of the corridor, lighting up her features just enough for him to see. He let go of her other hand to cup her face with both hands and her fingers gripped him at his wrists as she closed her eyes, and bit her lower lip in an attempt to cut off another sob, while her body shook at the attempt.

“Why didn’t you …” he managed helplessly. He hunched to balance their height differences and realised she had lost a fair bit of weight too. She felt smaller than before.  Pressing his forehead to hers he exhaled wistfully before he moved away just a smidge to watch her. He took in her face, drinking in her features, swiping a lock aside and tucking it behind her ear and sniffed a little himself. Watching her in pain was excruciating - it felt as if his heart would rip out of his chest. “What can I do to make it better?” he asked when he had finally found his voice. “Tell me?” he begged. 

“Dunno,” she replied miserably as she let go of his wrists and grabbed the lapels of his robes and looked away, sniffing softly. 

“Will you believe me if I say I missed you too?” he asked and felt like the admission lifted a weight off his chest.

She looked up at him, searching his eyes. He wanted to tell her it scared him to bits to think how much he missed her in the past few months, how much he longed to have her back. But it was hard to put in words. There was no other explanation for it - no lie that he could fool himself with anymore. 

He was in love with her. 

Perhaps for years now without even realising it himself. And to think he was the one who had made her so miserable… His fingers continued to caress her face.

“I would walk here all alone, you know?” she admitted slowly, as she let out a small, bitter chuckle. “No one came here, no one got to know if I cried.”

Ron cursed himself under his breath. He took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, swaying on the spot, torn between pulling her into his arms and letting her go because he couldn’t possibly deserve her. “Why don’t you hate me?” he asked.

“How could I?” she answered quietly, meeting his eyes for a fleeting second before looking away, her fingers tracing over the Gryffindor logo on his chest. “I’ve loved- ” she broke off abruptly. Ron couldn’t breathe. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to himself, while the other continued to cup her face, the soft curls at the back of her head tickling his fingers. 

“Hermione?” he called softly, once he had managed to gather his wits.

“Hmm?” 

“Will you let me kiss you?”  

Her eyes snapped up at him as she let out the smallest of gasps and then her cheeks flooded with colour. He was utterly thankful that the moon had not flitted back behind the clouds. 

She nodded just once. And with his heart thudding madly as if he was doing this the very first time, he touched her lips gently to hers, before moving away to look at her face. She was clutching his robes at the chest, eyes closed and breath coming in gasps. Relieved, he inched closer again, and pressed his lips on hers, his eyes fluttering shut as he placed the smallest and most innocent of kisses and then just revelled at the sensation by lingering in that position for a few more minutes. He could feel her heavy breathing, flushing cheeks and slightly shivering form. If he could he'd slow down time to hold on to these moments.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing a curl away.

She swiped her tongue out and wet her lip before nodding a smidge. “Mmm-hmm” she added weakly.

He pressed his lips to her again, this time carefully pulling her lower lip between his, sucking on it. She paused for a few heartbeats and mimicked his action as if learning from him - and just like always, learning well. He let go soon because somehow these fleeting kisses were way more mind-bogglingly intense than anything he had done so far. Hermione‘s fingers had found his lapels again and were clenching it in her fists. He pulled away because his heart was thundering in his chest, begging him to slow down. 

“I -”

His wristwatch beeped at that instant, shattering the quiet, signalling it was past 11 O’clock and time to return back to their dormitory. 

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, face crimson. “I-we we should head back…” she suggested haltingly, and he let go of her unwillingly.

The walk back to the Gryffindor tower was quiet, not because there was nothing to say - quite the contrary in fact.  Ron had to use all the self-restraint he possessed to ensure he didn't pull her behind a tapestry.  It was imperative that he took it slow, that he proved himself to her first. Proved that he deserved her love. They met the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefects on their way, and the portrait of the Fat Lady was in view at the far end when he stopped on his tracks. Hermione turned at him, curiously. In the light of the torches that shone in their brackets, he could see her so much more clearly now, but he longed for those precious few minutes he had left behind. 

He walked over to the tapestry that hid a passage to the third floor and looked at her. 

She glanced between him and the gaping hole in the wall before silently walking inside. He followed suit, the heavy drapes falling back in place and hiding them from view. 

“Lumos” he muttered and stuffed his wand in his pocket, the light from it lit the passage in a dim glow. He inched closer to her encasing her between the wall at the back and him in front. Gathering all the Gryffindor courage he possessed he took her right hand in his, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. 

“Take your time,” he said at last. “I need to earn my way back to you -” he cut off her protest by placing his fingers of his other hand on her lips, momentarily losing track of what he was planning to say, swiping his thumb over them before gulping thickly and pulling his hand away. “ - I really do.” He took her free hand in his, watched their entwined fingers as he continued. “I know you’ve been thinking about this all this while,” he chuckled before the melancholy hit his words, “You’ve been wondering how to fit this- us- with Harry and the Horcruxes and everything else. I -I just want you to know that I’ll wait. And I am okay with whatever you decide.”

“You mean it?” she asked. “Mmm-hmm.” 

She placed her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around the small of her back, sighing deeply.  

He'd wait but he wouldn't stop loving her no matter what she decided, he promised himself.