Kim when asked why he still smokes once a day instead of just quitting + mandatory cigarette kiss

"Drabble: The Magician" - Reader x ArthurFleck (established/Joker) & Unrequited Reader x TheGrabber

Crossover time: Fandoms: Joker 2019 + Black Phone 2022

Rating: PG13? Warnings: None really, possessive Arthur, Hints at Arthur already being Joker. Jealousy. For : @lussiane333, Hopefully the first of many crossover drabbles. ~~ Masterlist - Request Box - Support me on Ko-Fi ~~ "Drabble: The Magician" It wasn’t crowded, but most of the audience consisted of children. Most, not all. Beside you, Arthur sat, hand twitching nervously. The magician in front of the audience magicked balloons from out of his hat and tore up a newspaper to make it whole again. You were impressed, even if you’d seen most of his tricks before. But this man was good.

You let your eyes drift to Arthur whose jaw was clenched. He wasn’t as pleased. The white-painted face might have something to do with it, a poor imitation of his own makeup mask. Not quite a clown. But there was more to it, you thought. Perhaps he missed performing? After all, he used to be the one to make the children smile.

Your eyes drifted back to the magician. His fingers were nimble, his draws quick. You felt his eyes upon you a few times, and encouragingly smiled at him whenever he looked your way. Blue-grey eyes, bright and light unlike any you’d ever seen. They bore into you and left their mark. You glanced at your side again, but Arthur’s vivid green eyes were upon the man in front of you, observing his every move.

The man asked a child from the front row to assist him with his next trick. She loved it, and so did the crowd. He was quite good with kids, you thought, charming even. His voice was light and high, not his natural, you thought. The man asked a boy up next, and you loved how he engaged the entire audience, making them go ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ and giving a round of applause that made the children he chose as his assistants feel special and proud.

If this had been all, you’d have thought the man to be a pleasant and well-skilled performer. But then something happened that changed it all.

“For my next trick I will need a volunteer,” his eyes roamed the small crowd, then came to rest on you. “How about you, little lady,” he said in his jolly voice. But something about his gaze wasn’t as playful. It was predator-like. “Would you like to help me out?”

You hesitated, feeling how Arthur by your side tensed when the magician chose you. But everyone was looking at you with such great expectations. Refusing would not do, would it? It would only draw more attention to the two of you and you could not risk that. You didn’t want people to notice Arthur and risk it all.

You took a moment too long to decide, and the magician made it even harder for you. “Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for my lovely assistant,” here he paused to look at you again and gestured for you to come hither.

Frozen and uncertain of what to do, you felt Arthur’s elbow in your back, encouraging you to step forth. Hesitatingly, you stood up and approached the magician.

His grin grew when you stepped closer, then he took off his hat and bowed. You noticed how his long hair was greying at the roots. It resembled Arthur’s hair, though less curly and more wispy. Then the hat was on again and the man straightened his spine. “What is your name, love?”

You whispered your name, which he repeated loud enough for everyone in the back to hear. Another arm stretched out, palm upward, and another plea for applause, after which the magician performed his trick with a coloring book – of all things. He guided your hand with the paintbrush in it, saying a magic word as he tried to fill the black-and-white page with color. It didn’t work the first time. But when his hot hand encircled yours, and his warm palm pressed tight against your skin and guided your hand and the brush in it, the book was suddenly filled with colors.

When you glanced at Arthur you saw the shadow over his features. The magician’s hand was still possessively over your own. His body pressed close to yours. Like Arthur’s, you thought. He’s like him.

He bowed deep after he thanked you, a predatory grin on his lips. You recognized it. Of course, you did. And so had Arthur by the look on his face. It was like a thunderstorm had come over him. He sat with his arms folded in front of his chest when you returned to your seat next to him, lips curled downwards like a theatre mask. He was angry. Surely he understood that you had no other choice? That refusing the magician might have risked exposing Arthur, even if he was in his normal clothes.

You didn’t fail to notice how the magician’s eyes kept sliding back to you all through his performance. He was like Arthur, all right. The thought alone sent shivers down your spine. Because you knew how Arthur was. Who he was. And what he had done.

After the performance, the two of you walked home, arms linked. Arthur was still bristling. “I did not like the entertainer,” he said, voice nearly a whine but not quite. He was doing his best to sound unbothered, when clearly, he was angered beyond belief.

“The magician?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“That one.” It was as if a shadow fell over Arthur’s features. His lips pressed into a thin line in displeasure. You had hoped to see a show with him would have lightened his mood. Instead, it had done the opposite.

“You don’t like anyone,” you said, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. He took long strides as if he was eager to get away. You had to try and keep up with him, which you only managed because of your linked arms.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “but I especially don’t like that man.”

The two of you rounded a corner and you halted, forcing Arthur to come to a stop as well. He looked down at you, clearly confused. His green eyes sought yours.

“You know what?” you said, looking up at him. A small smile slipped on your lips when you whispered. “Neither did I.”

You could see Arthur’s mind racing. Usually, you were his voice of reason, the one who berated him and told him that he was overreacting. To hear you agree with him on something like this was quite new. But you had felt it. When your eyes had locked with those blue-grey ones of the magician, you knew there was something wrong with him. “There’s something about him,” you said. “Something,” you hesitated, then finished with a whisper. “Dark.”

“Dark?” Arthur turned to face you, not noticing how the topic of your conversation was now in front of you. A big black van with Abracadabra on the side was parked next to the sidewalk. You noticed how the green and blue letters shimmered in the sunlight. Behind it stood a very familiar man, a brown paper bag in his arms. You recognized attributes from his magic act. The top hat was on his head and his face was still painted white. But his piercing eyes that had betrayed the darkness inside of him were now hidden behind glasses.

“Good afternoon to you,” he piped, sounding way too jolly. His stage voice again, you thought.

“If it isn’t my lovely assistant.” Your name rolled off his lips like dripping honey, syrupy and sweet. You felt Arthur tense next to you, his whole pose rigid. The magician seemed to nearly drop his bag. The flowers that lay on top fell out of it.

“Oh my, would you look at that!” the man exclaimed. “I am so clumsy! Pardon me.”

But you were in front of him on your knees already, picking up the fallen items and handing the flowers to the magician with a shy smile. “Here you go,” you said, not realizing what you were doing until it was too late.

The magician put his bag in the back of the van and turned to take the flowers from your hands. A smile twisted his lips when his fingers brushed past yours. “Why, thank you, dear. Flowers, for me already? We only just met…”

You froze and practically felt Arthur seething a few paces behind you. But the magician was unperturbed. He leaned forward, stepping closer to you until you felt the heat radiate off his body. A scent drifted to you, cologne and a whiff of manly testosterone.  

Then he was leaning back again and the distance between the two of you increased again. He turned to place the flowers in the back of his van. “I was just kidding, sweetheart,” you heard him say. Then he turned to face you again. You wished you could see his eyes behind his glasses, to know the look that was in his gaze now. Was he jesting as he claimed? Or was there more to it like you suspected?

“You seem frightened,” he stated, voice finally losing its high and pleasant lilt. In its stead, a raspy low voice came out. Was this his true voice, you wondered? Or another character in him?

“I am sorry,” he said, looking aside, “I did not mean to scare you.” His smile had faded and you thought he might be honest now. Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest. He was lucky, you thought. So very lucky that Arthur hadn’t brought a gun with him.

He hadn’t, right? Oh shit, had he brought the tiny one that he sometimes hid in his shoes?

You turned around to come face to face with Arthur. He had come closer and now stood behind you. The magician’s gaze must be resting on him too now, because Arthur was an imposing sight to see, standing tall and carrying a grimace of displeasure that could strike fear in anyone.

“I am sorry,” the magician said. You heard how his smile must have turned wry. “I was just telling your daughter how lovely an assistant she was.”

The reaction was instant. You felt how Arthur’s body tensed, then how his arm encircled your waist and he pulled you close. His grasp possessive, strong. This would leave no doubt.

You wondered if the magician’s eyes grew wider behind the glasses, because you swore you saw them raise. Then a frown slipped onto his face. “I see,” he murmured.

“I am sorry, Mister…” Arthur waited for the magician to answer, which he did.

The magician nodded curtly at Arthur while he introduced himself. “Albert,” he said, voice raspy and low still. “Albert Shaw.”

“Well, Mister Shaw, it seems that you are treading on dangerous ground.” A smile grew on Arthur’s face, one much like a shark’s. “You should be more careful with your assumptions in the future. You’ve been,” here Arthur paused to wet his lips, “awfully impolite.”

Those words invoked mental images inside your mind of Arthur at his worst, gun drawn and pointed at a helpless victim’s head, already on the floor on their back. You’d seen it before. Awfully impolite. Society. Triggers that made Arthur’s anger surface. Then Arthur broke you out of your thoughts when he turned to you and whispered near your ear, but loud enough so Albert, the magician, could hear, “It is time to go.” And then more pressing, “now.”

You nodded and placed your hand on Arthur’s forearm, a signal that you would follow him. Arthur’s gaze was a dangerous one, fully aimed at Albert as he took you away, back to the pavement. His arm was firm around you, his breathing heavy. A dangerous glint was in Arthur’s eyes and you knew, you just knew, what was going on inside that brilliantly obscure mind of his.

A plot for revenge. A plan for retribution.

Albert had touched something that was his. Something that Arthur had laid claim on. You.

And now that he had the magician’s name, there was no doubt in your mind that you would see that name appear in one of the newspapers pretty soon. Albert Shaw. Murdered. Visited by none other than the Joker.

Unless your feelings about the magician were right. Unless he was as dangerous as the Joker who had claimed you as his own. ~~ Masterlist - Request Box - Support me on Ko-Fi ~~ ~ Fin ~ AN: I am open to requests. This story was not beta-read, might do that later.

chrisadew’s astrology thoughts & observations pt. 1

🖤 Virgo is the sign of critique and skill, so naturally whatever house in your chart has Virgo on it is gonna be the area of life where you use those ever evolving skills to help others, but also where you can nitpick at things, at yourself (stop that pls 👀) and rearrange or attempt to perfect your process. It’s also the area of life that can draw criticism from others.

🖤 When you’re looking at transiting planets, don’t think that because it’s not in the sign your natal planet is in it doesn’t matter! I am a Scorpio rising, so Mars is my natal chart ruler. Every time Mars transits a new sign, it’s gonna be especially significant to me as well as Aries risings. Same goes for Cancer risings with the Moon (changes sign every 2.5 days) etc etc.

🖤 The house with Pluto in it tends to amplify the themes of that house and consistently destroys/renews them. An example of this is people with Pluto in the 11H - your friend groups/communities/associations can drastically evolve over time.

🖤 To give someone credit is a 10H matter, but to leave someone a review is a 9H matter. Business thrives on reviews that build on your reputation - the reviews of the people reflect the business ideals and customer expectations, Jupiter type tings.

🖤 Tbh, you really can see sex in every single house in your chart - not just the 5H and 8H. Same goes for any other signification ever.

🖤 12H Mars people absolutely need an incidental/unstructured physical outlet for pent up energy, aggression and anger. In the 12H, Mars can feel a little bit confused and misdirected sometimes. An outlet can help to ground it and teach you to cut through the fog of Neptune’s domain; it can make your actions more intentional and less erratic.

🖤 The 6H and it’s ruler in your chart speaks to how you deal with and solve problems that arise. Example = if you have the 6H ruler in the 12H and there’s those little itty bitty issues you never seem to notice everyday or just brush off to “do later”? They could for sure bite you in the ass when you least expect it 🫣 the flip side is = you do those things as and when they pop up, and there’s an unexpected payoff down the line.

🖤 Leo risings could potentially do veryyyy well living abroad or away from their birthplace/hometown (their whole sign 12H ruled by the Moon, 5H + 8H ruled by Jupiter, 4H + 9H ruled by Mars, 2H + 11H ruled by Mercury).

🖤 When you satisfy Venus, all the Venusian related things in your life have the potential to change; for example: that's why I see some 8H Venusians come up when they're in genuine, reciprocal relationships (with people that mean something to them, not necessarily romantic) 🥺, the minute that healthy balanced exchange appears, here comes the sense of power, the ability to embrace change and deal with upheaval much better, monies, all the thingsssss 🤩 Same goes for 9H Venusians when they’re on an adventure or studying a subject they really love, or 6H Venusians when they truly enjoy their routine and/or job, they thrive.

🖤 Wherever Neptune is in your chart requires a lil bit of conscious imagination and glamour to charm the themes of that house. Someone with Neptune in the 6H for example could do with a dose of fantasy, magic or spirituality (whatever that looks like for them) in their everyday/work life to make whatever they do feel a bit more worthwhile to them.

🖤 The sign on your 2H (and it’s ruler) can also be representative of how you measure your own self worth and values; it’s your currency and eventually what you will use in trade at the meeting of the 8H (shared resources).

🖤 One thing an Aries 6H is gonna do is figure out a way to cut time on a task. 6H Aries is productivity, but make it ⚡quick ⚡💎

© 2022 chrisadew. All rights reserved

The Recondite Haesorog

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge from @maniculum

Now, I actually have a suspicion what this creature might be - I wasn't deliberately trying to work it out, but when I was throwing around concepts for the drawing, something clicked... If it is what I think it is, it's at the same time a really cool description, with some bits which are wildly out... I didn't pursue that particular line of thinking with my piece this week, but I'm going to be interested to see what this one turns out to be :D

Jinhao shark fountain pen with a fine, hooded nib, with Monteverde Raven Noir ink, over initial pencil sketch. I'm going to do some experimenting with the brush pen and the fude-nib in future pictures again; I appreciate the consistency of the lines that this pen is giving me, but I suspect those other pens would give a little more character to the lines.

As an aside, I'd genuinely encourage anyone looking at these challenges to give it a try; its given me a bit of focus to get back into something I used to enjoy, without too much pressure (both in terms of the time and also this mostly being about fun!)

As ever, reasoning under the cut…

"Ethiopia is the home of a creature called the Haesorog, as large as an ox, with the footprints of an ibis, branching horns, the head of a stag, the colouring of a bear and the same thick coat."

Okay! For such a short description, we've actually got a fairly good amount of detail. Of course, some of it doesn't really make sense together - bird feet with horns and a bear's thick coat? What could be going on here?

I figured that, rather than trying to work out something realistic, I'd actually treat the description at face value as much as possible. As such, we have an ox-sized, deer-headed creature with long, bird legs and feet, covered in shaggy hair! I actually tried to put a bit of deer anatomy into the legs, but they were primarily referenced from ibis photos - I'd set myself on that particular pose, but it was impossible to find a front-facing picture of an ibis with its leg raised (not perfect, but turned out better than I was fearing!)

The horns gave me cause for thought - horns don't tend to branch, but they're very distinct from antlers (antlers being bone, and shed yearly, while horns are covered in a keratin sheath which is not generally shed). In the end, and given the description of it having a deer's head, I went with antlers, specifically taking inspiration from the wapiti (American/Asian elk) and red deer for the grand, branching antlers rather than palmate antlers of the fallow deer I'm most familiar with. I did give them a little texture, as a nod to the horn though.

Charles Knight's Animal drawing was really useful here - the short essays in that book made me consider more carefully some aspects that I wouldn't have just looking at the drawings, including things like ear position, and the general vibe of the animals I was referencing.

Still experimenting with plants and trees for the background - some came out better than others, but I've learned a few more things from this about what does and doesn't work well!

I'm now kinda wishing I'd drawn a fuzzy horned dinosaur for this, but I'm still happy with the directionI went 😅🦖

"It is said that the Haesorog changes its appearance when it is afraid and, when it hides itself, takes on the likeness of whatever is near — a white stone or a green bush or whatever other shape it prefers."

Well, this is cool; an ox-sized animal that is also a master of disguise. You can see my nod to this in the background where a hunting party (plus dog) are walking straight past a Haesorog disguised as a tree...

I did a little look into medieval costume (and dog breeds) from Ethiopia; I know that this is a bit of a catchall term for Sub-Saharan Africa, but it gave me a place to start. Turns out that the figures were too tiny to put in any detail of the clothing (or to make the Ethiopian Highland Dog) distinct, but the history there is fascinating (including Ethiopian delegates to Florence in 1441 being frustrated about the Europeans constantly referring to their kind as 'Prester John' 😆

This seeming magical power of disguise also gave me a couple of extra influences in the style - the forest god from Princess Mononoke, and the goats from that film and from the Nausicaä manga. Not sure how much it came across!

Presenting Katie Wolfe, a.k.a Copycat!

@homegrown-blorbo-garden

I suck at drawing without a base, so here's the references I used!

First one I genuinely have no clue. I drew it like 4 or 5 years ago in my high school-provided subscription of Photoshop so I do not have the files. I searched up something along the lines of "superhero pose drawing reference female" though.

2nd!

3rd!

4th I used HeroForge as a reference.

Now that the art showcase is complete, I shall tell her story! Well, part of it. You see Katie is part of an entire multiverse I created called FiveOh Comics. At my count right now, there's 285 characters in this universe (plus an rp Discord server which I can link to anyone interested in joining). There's a ton of storylines all over the universe, and Copycat in particular has an entire 100 episode-10 season show I'm writing about her that I want to get officially produced, but I don't have time to go through all of it today, so here's the essentials!

Katie Wolfe is an anomaly, born with superhuman powers that manifested at 10. She could copy any actions she saw other people take, so long as she physically had the capability to do so. She could also chameleon herself to look like other people, or change her own appearance. Worth mentioning also that she's bisexual and polyamorous.

She's the daughter of Timberwolf (a.k.a Theresa Wolfe), one of the most famous superheroes in the world and the leader of POW! (Protectors Of the World), the first superhero team ever. Theresa's also the smartest person in the world, and runs the company Wolfe Sciences, dedicated to creating products that advance humanity's capabilities. I'll talk about Theresa again in a later post when I've drawn a not-shitty picture of her in hero mode.

Trying to follow in her mother's footsteps, Katie helped found Alpha Sentinel, the most popular hero team in the world, since it had two former members of POW! leading it and never seemed to lose. In the fight that formed the team, Katie met a shapeshifter from a doomed civilization in the core of the Earth, who'd been jettisoned to the surface to save her. Confused and angry, she lashed out, until the soon-to-be team pacified her and they slunk off. Katie later tracked her down and brought them to her mother. After a while of acclimating to the surface and its society, she took a human form, naming herself Emily and choosing to stay with Katie and Theresa. Theresa officially adopted her, and she became Katie's sister.

After 3 successful years of Alpha Sentinel's career, tragedy struck. One member was trapped within his own mind, one was killed, a third was traumatized so bad she quarantined herself in her room for nearly a year, and a fourth was hospitalized, leaving only Katie and Stingray (aka Steven Raye, Theresa's best friend) still active heroes. Of course, though, Katie was not unaffected by this event, and she retreated into a shell for over a month, right up to the start of the Copycat series, the events of which I won't spoil.

Over the course of the show, however, she deals with her own emotional scars and brings together friends, even saving the old AS member who was trapped in his own mind, and created a new Alpha Sentinel, consisting of herself, Stingray, the previously mentioned member of AS, Riptide, Timberwolf, her sister Emily, calling herself Goop Girl, her best friend Cassie Wright, or Libra, and a wizard named Stardust.

Oh, also there's a strong chance she's a daughter of Athena. At the very least, she's been blessed, as Athena has allowed her to summon Aegis and Astrape.

I'll get to all of these characters in due time, of course, but for now, that's Katie's story! Here's some quotes from her for good measure.

Katie: I live in fear of John Cena brushing my mouth like Colgate.

Katie: Hey, y’know how some people get birds released at their weddings?

Emily: …yes?

Katie: I want Cassowaries released at my wedding.

Theresa: "Katie, if you ever utter the phrase 'copyright incringement' in my house again, I'm kicking you out."

Katie, dying: I’m sorry… you know I had to do it to ‘em…

Katie: You're not a copycat. Nothing has ever been done the way you do it before. Everything you do is special and unique to you.

When would you say you, as an artist, transitioned from precisely imitating the art style of whatever work you are drawing art for (to the point where it was routinely confused for official art) to having your own distinct artstyle?

I wouldn't say that I ever transitioned between the two, because at a certain point I let go of deliberately trying to have a specific artstyle since it's always changing. I came to realise that no matter what style a person is trying to draw, even if they're trying to imitate someone else, their own personal way of drawing will show through. When I draw fan art of things I always want to try and show the aspects of it that make it feel like 'that thing' or 'that character' to me, and this naturally ends up getting absorbed into the way I draw in the future.

I think the only two things I've drawn that were that close to the official artwork are Attack on Titan (kyoji asano's style specifically) and OMORI, since I love them a similar amount and really wanted to learn how to recreate how they look. Sometimes I will try to replicate a style, other times I will just colour however I like. Whatever someone thinks my distinct style is will pretty much be determined by them based on which of my drawings they've seen, and I'm cool with that.

I think right now something people find to be recognisable as my art is the way I colour, and even that is something adapted from my friend I look up to, hinann_bot, because I really loved the way their colours look I figured out my own way of doing it using the methods I learned to colour in the past. Tbh the only real consistent 'my style' things are probably how I've been using the same line and blending brushes for the past 5 years.

Yugioh OC Week Day 4: Relationships - Part 1

This one is about my VRAINS OCs (Ravyn and Asher specifically). @ygoc-week

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ravyn had never been fond of her hair. The sole purpose she had for keeping it somewhat long was to act as a curtain against the world. It hung long and black just past her shoulders to shield her. Adira consistently pushed her to try and do something with it but she never did. That’s definitely how she’d ended up in this situation.

“Come on. It’ll be a nice change of pace, I promise.” Adira ran a brush through her hair as Ravyn sat in a chair. “If you don’t like it, then you can take it out.”

In just a couple minutes, Adira had tied her friend’s hair back in a simple braid. She held a mirror in front of the girl so she could see her new hairstyle.

“I think it looks nice,” Adira commented. Ravyn didn’t mind it, but having it tied back felt weird. She figured she’d put up with it for the rest of the day to please her friend at least.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ravyn sat on the couch in the living room, figuring out some code for a school project. Her fingers sped across the keyboard of her computer as she was laser focused on the task. Just then, the one thing that could draw her attention away walked through the front door.

“Can someone please help?” Asher asked, multiple bags of groceries weighing down both his hands. With a sigh and a smile, Ravyn got up and relieved half of his load.

“I have no idea how you managed to make it this far by yourself.” She set the bags on the kitchen counter and began putting away the items.

“Wait.” Ravyn paused, thinking she’d done something wrong, and turned to face him.

“What is it?” The ginger haired boy drew closer, making her even more nervous. His hand reached out to touch the braid that rested on her shoulder.

“Your hair.”

“Oh yeah, Adira did that.”

“It looks pretty tied back.” And then he smiled that smile that made her heart skip a beat. She felt a heat rise to her face that she was sure he didn’t notice as he went back to putting away the groceries. Maybe she would braid her hair more often from now on.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ravyn’s hand tugged on her braid and she brushed her cheek with the end of it. Her mind kept thinking about that text Asher had sent to their friend group.

Do you mind if Aoi comes over?

Of course she’d agreed along with the rest of the others. There was no rational reason why she wouldn’t. Still, it bothered her. For weeks, the girl had joined them for lunch after bumping into Asher. He’d quickly befriended her. They talked a lot. Ravyn could see it in his eyes. The way he looked at Aoi Zaizen in a way he never looked at her. In a way she could only dream he would look at her.

“We’re here!” The front door burst open and speak of the devil, it was those two. Cyrus and Adira had made themselves scarce by going out together and Kai wanted to go sketch in the park. Ravyn should have made up an excuse to leave too. That was a fault on her part. Now she awkwardly sat in the living room as Asher dragged Aoi by the hand. Asher had always been on the reserved side, but compared to Aoi, he was practically on Adira’s level of enthusiasm. Or maybe she just brought out something new in him.

Ravyn waved at the two in greeting which he barely seemed to acknowledge. She knew it was because he was too caught up in showing the brown haired girl around. Knowing that didn’t make it hurt less. She wanted to call out to him, but her voice got caught in her throat. Calling attention to herself wasn’t something she did a lot, even with her friends. As quickly as they’d arrived, the two disappeared into the boys’ shared room. Asher shut the door behind him.

Ravyn let out a shaky breath and retreated to her and Adira’s room, closing the door quietly. She leaned her arms on Adira’s dresser, watching her reflection in the mirror sitting on it against the wall. Her brown eyes narrowed. Why would Asher ever look at her when he had Aoi?

Her hand reached up to undo her braid, black hair falling to frame her face. Ravyn had actually gotten used to tying it back every day so it felt strange to have it falling in front of her eyes again. Although, she didn’t try to push the loose strands away. A sigh left her mouth as she stared at herself. It was better this way.

hi!! first of all I adore your art style sm and I was wondering how you developed it; are there any tips or tuts you could recommend for improving? thanks !!!

oh my god, thank you!

about developing an artstyle... honestly, for me, i just picked and dissected all my favorite parts from other's styles and mixed them into a frankenstein one of my own! there's some general interpretations from anime, since i used to watch them when im younger and some from very cartoony artstyles from artists online. if im into a fandom, sometime that original source will have an effect on my art.

developing something consistent and your own takes a LOT of time and patience and experimenting. dont lose hope just becuz it changes a lot. for a long while, every other drawing of mine would look completely different.

dont be afraid to look closely and copy other artists. one of my biggest art inspos is mad rupert, specifically their work on their comic sakana... it uses a lot of basic shapes and since its in black and white it also makes good work with lineart.

some stuff for my art i only do cuz its more comfortable and easy lol, like the pencil tool brush and the cell shading. instead of putting rules on yourself on how u should draw something, let ursef naturally enter a routine that seems comfortable AND will leave a satisfying result. draw in a way YOU'LL be proud of. do what U think looks good. take inspiration from ANYTHING!

really, dont be afraid to rip off other artists (dont steal or trace their art for posting obviously, though). one time in kindergarten i just straight up copied the drawing of the girl next to me's and when she noticed i was scared shell chew me out but she just complimented me! to give someone else ideas is one of the great things about making art!

maybe you'll find an artist you'll research to no end and maybe you'll just happen to scroll past a random drawing that will make you rethink the way you use colors forever and ever. there will be times where u feel disappointed and that u can do better but thats okay, this happens to everyone! when i couldnt settle for a style ppl still came up to me and told me they recognized that my work was mine just by looking at it, which really surprised me. you'll get it! I believe in u, and have fun!!!

Cactus, Sage and Camellia for the get to know me asks

proof that we are best friends: you know how to ask the worst questions of the bunch <3

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

nothing of actual academic importance

a certain kind of discomfort I’d almost forgotten about (you know what i mean.)

how much of a [redacted] Noah Xenoblade is (a good thing) and other assorted musings about XB3

how I’m inching closer to what will probably (Shulk... I abandoned my boy’s affinity chart...) be the end of XB2

how talented at writing and\or drawing my friends are

how much I actually like whiling the time away with the friends that are close to me

the way I can afford to be a little more true to myself (💛)

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

LMAO. I love how you asked this while being incredibly aware of the answer. I wish I could be smart about it right now, but my braincells are washing away, so.

I just like words and what people do with them. How they can be used for anything you wish, and yet often fail to convey what’s most important - the power they hold is both immeasurable and insufficient. It’s up to each of us to make the most of our tongue and strive to get ever more accurate as we reach for our readers’ hearts! And it’s... I don’t want to say... ‘easier‘ in general, but it definitely is for me. I’d rather snap a brush in half than use it as intended.

Music also comes close, as a consistent reprieve, but I am unable to engage with it in the same fashion. As... is probably obvious, my words are my greatest asset and the one thing I can absolutely be proud of. Most of the time, at least.

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

I want to refrain from answering this because I’d be stuck all evening,

I tell myself ‘I’ve grown‘ a lot these days, and the attitude changes each time I say it. Have I actually done it? Can someone tell me that? Am I just saying it to make myself feel better? Is it okay to feel younger than I am? Is it okay to have turned out the way I am, through things out of my control?

It’s kinda driving me nuts. Though the way these thoughts actually surround me are confirmation enough that I have changed.

ART RELATED

Do you take commissions/requests/art trades/collabs?

Only from my loved ones depending on my free time. But generally no.

Where did you learn to draw?

Even though I came from a family of artists, I am actually self-taught. I wasn't able to go to an art school like I've always wanted. I mostly learned from watching cartoons and animes.

When did you start drawing?

Ever since childhood.

I used to draw traditionally. When I started posting my art online back in 2008, I drew on paper, scanned it then colored it on Photoshop using my mouse.

I went full digital in 2013 after saving up and buying my first pen tablet (Wacom Bamboo Pen & Touch 3rd Gen).

Who are your favorite artists?

Stanley "Artgerm" Lau, Masashi Kishimoto and Kubo Tite.

What do you use to draw?

Pen Tablet:

Wacom Intuos Pro Small

Software:

Paint Tool Sai for drawing

Photoshop for rendering

Kinemaster for video editing

Can you explain your brush settings?

Most of my brush settings are default. The others are from random artists that I watched and liked so I decided to use them too. I've been using these settings for a long time now and I can't remember the last time I added or changed something.

If you are looking for an artist to explain "what's this and that for" regarding brush settings then unfortunately it's not me. You can copy my settings if you liked them though.

Can I copy your art style?

You can use my art style as a guide but please don't copy it from A-Z. Add your own personal touch and twist as much as you can.

Can you give me art tips?

This is from my 2022 art ramblings:

Whenever artists wanna try something new to improve their art, we tend to make big drastic changes right away. This can be effective for others but not for everyone. As you can see, my art style is still the same as last year with minimal tweaks.

I decided that if I’m gonna make improvements, I’m gonna do it gradually instead of incorporating them all at once. This can be a big help in maintaining consistency. If the changes were small, we can easily remember and apply them on our next artwork.

I may now have more confidence with regards to my art compared to before but I am still not confident enough in giving/teaching art tips to people. Most of the time I am just winging my art and I personally feel like it's not right to impart that type of "knowledge" to others lmao. There are a lot of experienced artists on different platforms and you can easily search for their tutorials and advices.

Can I use your art for my profile pic?

As long as it's for personal use, you are free to use my art (icons, profile picture, wallpapers, etc). Please credit me if you can.

IMPORTANT: Do not edit, crop, trace or alter my art in any way, shape or form.

Can I share your artwork on other sites?

Artworks:

I am against reposting. I have an account in almost all platforms so you guys don't need to repost them. Just reblog/retweet/share them directly from the original post.

Note: If the artwork I made was from a very, very small fandom then I mostly allow reposting so it can reach more people. You just need to ask permission first and put proper credits.

Videos:

No. Do not repost/reupload my videos specially on Tiktok.

How long does it take you to finish an artwork?

Artworks:

I mostly do single cel shading nowadays to speed up my process. It takes me 1-3 days to finish depending on how many characters and how detailed the artwork is.

Videos:

I usually make 1 video a month but if I'm more energetic, I can make 2-3 videos.

How can I support you as an artist?

Youtube ➔ Like, comment, share and subscribe

Instagram ➔ Save, share, comment and like

Twitter ➔ Retweet, like and comment

Tumblr ➔ Reblog, like and comment

Kofi ➔ Any amount is appreciated

Honkai Impact 3rd Manga Station

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With 1000 new materials every month on Clip Studio ASSETS, you’ll always find something to match your personal style. You can also import Photoshop dual brushes (ABR) and customize every aspect of your brushes, giving you a limitless supply of tools. Before printing check the binding and finish of the final product with the 3D preview feature. I can express myself freely in Clip Studio Paint without any restrictions. Later on, Sakuragi realizes that he has come to actually love the sport, despite having previously played primarily because of his crush on Haruko. Kaede Rukawa—Sakuragi's bitter rival (both in basketball and because Haruko has a massive crush, albeit one-sided, on Rukawa), the star rookie and a "girl magnet"—joins the team at the same time. Together, these misfits gain publicity and the once little-known Shohoku basketball team becomes an all-star contender in Japan who gained a popularity after defeating one of the powerhouse highschool teams at Interhigh. 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Archery Practice ... Yandere Childe x Harbinger!Reader

warnings for genre typical portrayals of unhealthy relationships... ngl childe is kinda tame in this one tho

Word Count: 2k

Mid-evening tended to be an unpopular time to train. Most were having dinner, finishing their work day, and getting ready for as restful night as possible in the frigid climate of Snezhnaya. You typically would as well, but with a lot to reflect on and frustrated energy, you brushed off the snow on your person as you entered a Fatui training facility. You gave a quiet greeting to the guards who manned the building, who stood at attention at your arrival. You paid them no second thought as you began to navigate the pristine building.

You followed a path down the corridors you knew by heart, as even years before your ascension to being a Harbinger you found yourself here more than at home whenever your weren’t on assignment. Most windows into the various gyms were dark, and the ones with people in them had young recruits of little consequence to you.

You turned a corner when you heard someone calling for you. You processed the distinct voice as Childe, the most recent addition to the Harbingers. You ignored him, hoping that your increase in pace would not catch his attention. You mentally pleaded that he would avoid the archery range in favor of the other combat gyms.

He didn’t stop, as he never did, as his voice continued to come your way. You closed your eyes in weak attempt to hide your wince as he addressed you by name, by your real name, not your Harbinger title as the other nine would.

You stopped dead and turned to where he was trailing behind you and gave him your attention, unfortunately rewarding his bad behavior, “Titles only, Childe.”

“I wasn’t sure you could hear me” Childe responded, now standing tall right in front of you, his smile still the same, ignoring or otherwise completely unbothered by the standoffishness on your end. “I wanted to see if you wanted to spar while you’re here.”

Like clockwork. Every damn time you came in here and he was here too he’d ask. Each time you’d say no. Each time he’d hover around you until one of you had to leave. It had worked for the other Harbingers, as he now paid them no mind but for whatever reason, he still engaged with you. Tonight, you hoped your verifiable excuse and unfriendly aura would be the last straw for him.

“I’m just going to be doing target practice today,” you said, hoping to deter him. “I don’t want to do anything too strenuous today.”

“Oh you are? Do you mind if I join you?”

You blinked, “I didn’t know you knew how to use a bow,” you verbally dug your heels into the ground, even though you knew he could just walk into the range and practice along side you if he so wanted. There were no restrictions to who could use what when, but you desperately wished he would take a hint and leave you alone.

“I’ve been practicing on my own more recently, actually,” explained Childe, “And considering you’re the best archer among us, I can’t imagine having a better training partner.”

You narrowed your eyes at his compliment, while delivered earnestly, you couldn’t help but interpret his words as being subtly facetious. Since Childe sidestepped your frustrated hint with ease, you relented with a sigh, “Do as you please.”

The two of you headed to an archery range, Childe walking along side you, while you stewed in silent annoyance. So much for introspection time.

No one quite knew how to pester quite like Tartaglia. It was the popular opinion among the other Harbingers that the 11th was obnoxious. While you and your contemporaries preferred to work in the shadows and keep the often extreme extents of your servitude to your Archon hush-hush, Tartaglia, or Childe, as he preferred, ended up with a style that was far more akin to a performance. However, unlike most performers, he would make sure that his performance would be the last his audience would ever see.

You stopped in front of a door to the small range, opening it up unceremoniously, and Childe followed close behind. The room lit up, and illuminating the long room with three suspended targets, at three distances. Even with the unwanted company, you stretched and warmed up on autopilot, the silence between you and Childe surprisingly comfortable.

You glanced over, Childe having gone through his warm up routine faster than you. He had called his bow already, and you found yourself gawking at the absolutely abysmal posture he held as he aimed at the closest target, the one on the far left.

His shoulders were hunched and his bow hand gripped the bow in such a way that seemed entirely unsustainable. The arrow sat flimsy in his drawing hand, the only saving grace of the shot being the strength with Childe drew, which was borderline disturbing. You weren’t sure if he was showing off, or if he genuinely didn’t know to hold back.

You held your tongue as you watched him fire the shot, your eyes barely able to follow as the arrow swiftly embedded itself deep into the target, although the hit was only one by the smallest of margins

You watched him fire two more arrows, the second being a ring outside of the bullseye, and the third a near miss from the top. Both would be a challenge to pull from the targets as the fletching of the arrows were barely all that stuck out.

“See, I have a problem with being consistent in the hits I land,” Childe sighed, aware that you were observing, “What would you recommend?”

You took a deep inhale, “I think most children who pick up bows for the first time don’t have posture as bad as you.”

Childe flinched, his body language exaggerated, a pout resembling a kicked puppy having formed on his face, “Cut me some slack, I’m self taught!”

You remained unrelenting in your onslaught, “That’s obvious,” you scoffed, “You put way to much strength into the draw, especially when you can barely hold the bow itself. I’m amazed you hit the target at all.”

As as satisfying as it was to drag his form through the mud, Childe’s hurt expression only seemed to deepen, and you let yourself be worn down. “Draw the empty string, I’ll tell you what you need to fix.”

He did as you asked, and you rationalized to yourself that you were ultimately helping the Tsaritsa if you assisted Childe here. If he were ever stuck in a situation where he could only use a bow, you didn’t want him to be caught with his pants down. As invasive as he was, you didn’t want him to die or anything.

You lightly tapped his upper back, “Don’t hunch.” He fixed himself quickly. You moved his elbow up on his drawing arm, and went around to bend his elbow on his bow arm, going in quickly, and touching his as little as possible. You gave explanations for why each mistake would be detrimental for any kind of combat, and how to develop instinctive shooting, while making him maintain proper posture.

You were surprised how well he seemed to internalize what you explained, and you didn’t stop yourself from going into more detail than was feasibly retainable, but he stayed attentive, and showed a passion you weren’t expecting. You eased into a comfortable rhythm, and with rudimentary fixes, Childe was able to improve.

Time passed quickly, your engagement far more than either of you had expected. Childe had been trying to gauge you for a long time, but your persistence into giving him as little as possible became entertaining in and of itself. He enjoyed the open resentment of the other Harbingers, and before you had let your shell crack, he had enjoyed yours just as much.

Your patience with any mistakes was unexpected, your exasperation and irritation with his presence having dissipated entirely as you focused on helping him despite yourself. It was endearing seeing this side of you, a side that showed itself with surprisingly little prodding or string-pulling. It felt… natural, and unfortunately for you, it was also very endearing.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he started, interrupting a demonstration you had started about sights, earning a surprised look from you as he got your attention.

It took a split second, but you noticed he used your name instead of your title, your guard went back up, and you narrowed your eyes at him, “Don’t speak informally with me, use my title, Tartaglia.” You hissed out, using his official title instead of his preferred to emphasize your distance.

“Why? You can call me Ajax,” he offered, testing the barrier you set up. He hid his surprise when you hesitated, pursing your lips. He saw through how you tried to treat him apathetically, and forced yourself to be unkind to him. You were so much softer than you wanted anyone else to be privy to, and Childe was excited to exploit it.

In your own head, you had reached a conclusion that you weren’t sure he had reached, or if he even noticed in himself. You could have been way off, but as someone so at odds with his peers, seen as a tool by his superior, and feared by enemies and underlings alike, the pieces fit in your head and spelled out the fact that Childe was probably lonely.

Realizations clicked together quickly upon this conclusion, but you kept them to yourself.

“I won’t,” you maintained, refusing to let up. You couldn’t stop sympathy and understanding from now changing the tint of your interactions or how you viewed them, but you didn’t have to let him know any of that. Childe wasn’t your business, no matter how much he wanted to be.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Childe cooed, holding back a patronizing urge to pinch your angry cheeks, “I just wanted to ask why you’re helping me, since you seem to dislike me so much.”

You shifted your weight where you stood, “I don’t think you’d leave me alone either way.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from ignoring me before.”

Resentment bubbled in your chest, “So you are aware that you’re a pest.”

“Only because I like you.”

You were baffled that he could just say something that familiar, and you hoped any warmth that showed itself on you wouldn’t be interpreted as anything other than embarrassment on his behalf. “Well, stop.”

Childe seemed more amused than anything at your words, it only feeding into his idea that you’re just playing hard to get, “Am I really so unlikable?”

“You have no idea.” Any understanding you gained during your interactions being emotionally tossed to the wayside as your couldn’t bring yourself to care about someone with such a deliberate lack of regard for boundaries.

You disarmed yourself and made way to the door, pulling it open only for it to shut fast before you could blink. Your eyes followed the gloved hand that slammed it shut, Childe now far closer than you have ever let him get before.

You didn't want to turn around, and when you did you found yourself regretting it. His eyes were cold, completely unamused at your intent to leave while he was enjoying your company so much. He didn't mind a chase, but he needed you to realize that he was serious, and very difficult to deter.

If being pleasant and fun wouldn't get you to loosen up, he could change his approach until you changed your mind.

It had been a very long time since you felt this small. You’ve always been aware of Childe’s strength, but at the end of the day, despite his irritating nature, he was an ally. Or was. In that moment you looked up to see his lighthearted facade disappear so completely, you understood that regardless of your allegiance to your Archon, he was a threat.

“Don’t go, I still have so much I’d like to learn from you, [Y/N].”

Stephanie Brown Loves Her Mom; A Timeline/Analysis

(or; i expose my mommy issues to strangers on the internet)

okay i’m sorry i’m gonna do one (1) more steph hot take

I wish people wouldn’t erase the strong relationship between Steph and her Mom.

I feel like there’s a temptation to just hand-wave her father as abusive and her mother as absent as to strengthen her ties to the Batfam and her need for “familial” connection. I mean, the fanfic writes itself. But her mother was actually present and very involved Steph’s life for the majority of her run as Spoiler.

Now, the absent nature of Crystal Brown being explored is not entirely unwarranted. Often through flashbacks, and her initial introduction, she is characterized as being neglectful due to her pill addiction. But there’s also a very clear narrative of her overcoming this addiction to become a better Mom for Stephanie that warrants discussion.

(TW: Depictions and Discussions of Drug Addiction, Domestic Abuse)

Let’s look at that initial introduction, for starters.

Detective Comics #647, June 23, 1992

Now, as soon as I saw this page, I thought they were in fact going down a very particular route with Stephanie’s Mom. I wasn’t even sure she’d make it past the first few issues alive (hello, fridging!). And indeed, characters embodying the archetype we see on display were not so nuanced in a lot of comics at the time - and media in general. The “skeletal-faced, hopelessly drug addicted Mom ignoring her daughter” role is a prevailing one, and often taken at face value in the works it appears in. I mean, we never even get a description of what “pills” she’s even taking. They’re just…”pills”. And if there’s ever a more misrepresented and misunderstood ailment in comics, it’s drug addiction. Honestly I'm impressed they held back from putting a wine glass or cigarette in her hand to complete the caricature. But nonetheless we are still afforded some important facts of Steph & Crystal's relationship.

1. Crystal's use of pills is explained to be a way of preventing her from being a "nervous wreck". And in the Brown household, it's easy to see why she may've been driven toward them. Her husband was a Supervillain, and the Browns have usually been portrayed as being very financially insecure.

2. Steph genuinely wants her mother to stop using pills, yet is forced to act as her supplier, of which she feels she has no true ability to object to.

In Crystal's next appearance, we see a similar story;

Robin #3, January 31, 1994

Well, nevermind what I said about that cigarette.

In fact, Steph openly resents her how easy it is for her mother to slip back into addiction. Any "quack doctor" will give her her fix (as to how true to life this is I'm not equipped to comment on), and all Crystal's excuses amount are that she's in "pain". Or, as earlier seen, that she needs them to feel stable in some way.

However, even this early on into Steph's run, we do see some more nuance given to Crystal. In Steph's 9th appearance, the story follows Steph - who has a close relationship with her gym coach. He's presented as a sort of parental figure, and Steph considers herself able to "trust" him. That much is seen in one of Steph's gymnastics routines. And it's contrasted with the arrival of Crystal Brown.

...By the way, this is also the first we see of Crystal's ever evolving hair. I don't know what it is with her, but artists always seem keen to change her hairstyle, hair color, everything, from issue-to-issue. Which I think is funny, because the narrative regarding her character is otherwise entirely consistent from this point onward! I'm guessing the writers had an agenda on who Crystal was and what she was going through, but the artists were only ever just told to draw a generic Mom. But who knows. 

Showcase '95 #5, April 18, 1995 

Steph doesn't understand why she's here, and doesn't seem at all comforted by her presence. When her coach offers her to give her a chance, Steph brushes it off - she hasn't been to any of her games. Why start now? Her coach mentions how much she works (it's later revealed Stephanie's Mom’s a nurse, owing to how she may have gotten started on pills), but Steph figures she's just been too high to pay attention to her properly.

When she gets home, Steph's Mom lets slip that she thinks her Coach might be involved in drugs too. Granted, the only evidence she gives is that he makes a good salary, so Steph is somewhat justified in accusing her of projecting. But of course, we know it's something more than that. Steph wants to believe her Coach is good and would never do that stuff, that he's the adult authority figure in her life she can look up to and trust - unlike her criminal father and drug-taking Mother.

But, her curiosity gets the better of her, and she investigates. To make a long story short, it turns out Steph's Mom was right - her coach is a drug dealer. Selling to kids, in fact. Steph mourns the loss of what she felt was the "safest person in her life" when she turns him in. And the comic ends with this;

It's simple, but effective. It shows us, while Steph may be a bit too immature to apologize, her Mom doesn't hold anything against her. She forgives her, as Mothers do, smoothing over their earlier fight by inviting her to order pizza for the two of them. And the final shot rests on a framed photo of Steph and her Mom - a direct contrast to the photo of Steph's gym team, which she's now placed face-down; because Coach wasn't the parental figure she thought he was, but her Mother may have more of a place in her heart than she was willing to admit. The photo certainly seems to imply there were good times. 

Crystal makes disparate appearances after that. But all of them show a very different perspective than the one given in Steph's initial appearance.

Robin #43, June 30, 1997

You think people are sending fanmail to a random teenage girl? Steph, no one’s supposed to know you’re Spoiler- 

Here we see Steph's Mom really is working hard, and here is the first mention of her job at the hospital. There's even a little bit of a lampshade as to how little Crystal shows up with her comment on how they're always "passing each other on the way in or out" (also an allusion to Steph's side gig as Spoiler) 

But her next appearance really sails home how far Steph's Mom is coming.

Robin #54, May 31, 1998

Following the Quake (dw it was just a random comic thing for a minute), we get a really nice scene between Steph and her Mom. While Crystal tries to say she's just tired, Steph interjects that "she knows her better than that", allowing her to open up a bit.

Crystal laments how for so many years it's just been "you and me" - and indeed, with Steph's Dad out of the picture, each other seem to be the only family they’ve got. But Crystal worries that she hasn't done enough to foster that bond. That she hasn't "taken care" of her like she "should have". She's taking responsibility for her lapses in parental guidance, which we'll see explored more later, and wishing she could have prepared better to not live in such dire straits following the Quake. Steph points out that she can't possibly blame herself for a natural disaster. But as soon as Crystal starts up about Cluemaster, Steph shuts her down completely. The last thing that needs to come between them is him, after all.

It ends with her tucking her Mom into bed, perhaps an indication of how Steph feels as much responsible for her Mother as her Mother does for her - having taken up this very traditional parental act out of support for her Mother.

Should she? No, in a perfect world, the parent should take care of the child - but Steph and Crystal's relationship was never perfect. Their father was a Supervillain, Crystal herself was an addict, and they've always been financially challenged. But because they've stuck it out together, they always find a way to keep surviving.

Afterwards, there's the pregnancy arc. 

Robin #59, October 28, 1998

For all that can be said for how this arc was mishandled, there is one shining throughline in Steph's Mom. She's supportive of Steph from day one. She's seen with her in every counseling appointment, and in this scene, particularly showcases how valuable her support is.

Steph's pregnancy arc handles her with a lot of guilt and self-hatred, that which Crystal serves to combat here. Steph calls herself a "disappointment" to her Mom, who assures her not to blame herself. If anything, she says, she feels like the one to blame. She professes that she hasn't "set the best example", and reveals some background to her relationship with Cluemaster - "everyone" told her he was dangerous. It highlights some of the traits of an abusive relationship (again, given more depth later on). Given her immediate follow-up in lamenting her pill problem, it's clear to see there might be a connection.

Admittedly, Steph's Mom probably shouldn't have shifted the conversation to talk about her own problems - but I do think it sets the tone of how much Steph's Mom feels responsible for their familial woes, and her surprise at how "wonderful" Steph turned out despite it all. And to her credit, she listens and provides support when Steph continues on about her self-hatred.

Just, y'know, let's maybe ignore the overt pro-life narrative this arc has going on. Yeesh.

I could go on and on with examples of why I think Crystal Brown is a good Mother.

Hell, I could directly compare Steph's Mom to Tim's Dad - and how, despite Tim being the main character, we get a much more true-to-form parent-child relationship with Steph and Crystal, with a much more constructive tone (which really twists the knife in the wound for how much the fandom focuses on Tim’s relationship with his parents yet ignores Steph's very much alive and caring mother. But don't take this as a condemnation of some hardy Jack Drake hate.)

But this was first and foremost about how much Steph loves her Mother. And that love can be complicated. This next story re-tells Steph’s origins, and I think it’s a very important read in order to contextualize Steph and Crystal’s relationship - and the not-so-pretty parts of it. Because where there have been Good Times, there have been Bad Times - especially growing up.

This is where the Trigger Warning for Domestic Abuse comes in.

One of the first pages of this story features the first confirmed depiction of Crystal and Cluemaster's relationship being abusive.

Secret Origins 80-Page Giant, October 7, 1998 

We see that from a young age Stephanie was forced to witness her Father physically assault her Mother in moments of conflict. We can also see her defense of Stephanie from Cluemaster's verbal abuse at a young age, although it's in too minor a hand-wavey notion to really explore to what extent she could stick up for her. I would hazard to guess it may not have been often enough, though, owing to some of Steph's early resentment of her Mother.

And more evidence of this comes in the next page.

We see how "one phone call" was enough for her Mother to take Cluemaster back. 

That’s NOT to fault Crystal, or victim blame, or anything. These are complex situations. She was in an abusive relationship, and escaping one’s own dependence or hope regarding those is a very hard thing to do. And even harder with a child. That’s just to put things in perspective. But in fact, Crystal's treatment of Steph in these stages wasn't exactly peachy either.

We also see how that toxic relationship owes to her pill addiction. And we see a brief glimpse of how that pill addiction can affect Stephanie. We always knew Steph was pressured to supply her Mom with pills, but seemingly in Stephanie's other attempts to "talk" to her about it - Crystal would react more explosively than we were aware. And indeed, we also see the beginning of Steph's path to becoming Spoiler, when her father returns to their life - now cured of his obsessive need to place "clues" to his crimes.

The story ends back on modern Steph, regretfully hoping her child’s adoptive parents will do better than her’s did.

We get a callback to the origin of Spoiler during the storyline in which Crystal discovers Stephanie’s Spoiler suit, revealing her vigilante double-life to her. This is a storyline that deals with testing the "trust" these two have come to place in one another, and how much Steph's Mom feels that's been broken when Steph continues to be Spoiler despite her insistence.

Crystal at first assumes Steph has turned to crime, a hallmark of her criminal father. But Steph explains.

Robin #69, August 25, 1999

I’m gonna admit - I bawled my eyes out at this scene. After reading about the dark times in Steph’s past, and Crystal’s lapses as a parent, it’s easy to feel the relationship between Steph and her Mom simply went from bad to good. Absent to there. But way back in Showcase ‘95 we were already told differently - there were good times, and there was love between Steph and Crystal, even then. 

Steph had never donned the Spoiler mask simply to spite her father. She explicitly wanted to be rid of him. She didn’t want him in her family’s life. And she didn’t want him in her Mom’s. Steph knew her Mother was in an abusive relationship. And despite the issues they had, despite her addiction, she still loved her - and wanted to protect her. While she had no obligation to do that - it did pay off, and Steph’s Mom got better because of it. So much so that, later down the line when Cluemaster takes up refuge at the Brown house again, Steph’s Mom is completely adamant to throw him out.

More than that though, she wanted to help their relationship. For Cluemaster to stop hurting them, and stop getting between them. And the way they’re able to reflect on him dismissively and derisively shows that they’ve made good headway in doing just that.

Okay, this is long enough as is - I’ll end it here. But please, don’t detract Crystal Brown’s involvement in Stephanie’s life. She certainly wouldn’t want you to. There’s not exactly a surplus of healthy Mother-Daughter relationships explored in comics, and Steph and her Mom’s was surprisingly very well-written, even in its earliest incarnation. Though it didn’t start out perfect, it got to somewhere good. And that, personally, really resonates.

Ok, so I think I have finished ghost designs for my clones after they pop up in the zone after their destabilisation •^•

I also have color for them now - roughly at least. I may change hues or values at some point because I just mostly used this one pack of markers with nice saturation, and so if I ever decide to draw them digitally things will definitely change at least a bit.

But yeah, here they are, my bois but ghost addition:

I drew this man once on a sticky note and once on notebook paper, I added them both because I think both sketches have their charm. Dorian is no longer naked, so I had to incorporate his original design in more subtle ways like the belt. And his colours are generally the black and white of his original appearance.

I gave him a new hairstyle because I was already going for a glow up vibe, and I thought it'd look nice. I gave him some green in the hair because I wanted more green accents near his face just in case the detail on the suit ended up distracting away from it. Also hair streaks are cool.

Lastly, I was so proud of myself when I realised I could make the DP symbol into a tie accessory, the joy I felt when I randomly happened to sketch it like that was just... A lot.

Gotta love feeling smart for doing small details right OwO

This man. This man gave me a lot of trouble in the colour department. I already knew I wanted Dante in a comfortable/ casual outfit because he's the art guy of the squad, but after I figured out what it's generally going to look like, I realized that the whole green/yellow/blue triad looks great on paper... But it actually looks awkward in paper.

The markers I picked were giving me very few options because the green was dark, so I brought in another lighter one that didn't have a brush tip ( hence the roughness in some sketches ) and began to play around with the different combinations and with the way they'd look near the blue ( hence the swatches around the clothing )

In the end I settled for darker on the inside, lighter on the outside. After that I decided my man had way too little blue and thought it'd be cool to also give him blue in the hair to help tie the color together a bit more. It worked, but I like my sketch without the streaks more than the one I did with them, so I'm showing both.

Other than looking like a sunflower, the man's dark and green on the inside is also kinda his original colour scheme. His eyes were red as a Skelly, but I ditched that because I like my yellow/blue/green scheme and I wanted to keep it consistent.

This guy was the simplest to figure out because I already knew I wanted him to look the most superhero/ready for action one out of all of them. I gave him a uniform looking suit because I thought it'd probably be better for flying around and being tiny but also stylish.

I have multiple sketches of this lil man ( one in my own ) because of how simple and quick it is to actually pose and draw this man out of all of them.

I think this works because he's also quite expressive and mischievous so if he's easier to draw I can maybe push the outline and expressions more to show his emotions.

Also elf ears and fangs because that way he looks like a tiny fairy or sprite and that's very chaotic. You see him and you know he's a mischievous boi.

His hair is fire because why not, fire hair is cool. That's probably why they gave Dan fire hair too, it just looks nice.

Though for Dominic it's more of a general ' this guy is a free spirit ' vibe rather than a ' I am intimidating and very scary ' vibe.

He's red because I just thought it fit and it would help him stand out against the green of his brothers ( and also his own green from when he was a clone ) OwO

I think this is everything I wanted to show for now so yeah, I hope you guys like them (ㆁωㆁ) Have a good day/night!

nikolai lantsov: august

@wafflesandschemingfaces requested a piece inspired by august, and i am more than happy to push the august agenda. THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG IM SO SORRY!!! i hope it’s okay that i worked this in as a part two of “mirrorball.”

happy AUGUST babes! this was originally going to end angsty but i was feeling generous so enjoy the happier ending :)))

he tasted like salt, which had been a rarity at home. with the prices spiking in the cities, the smaller markets in the countryside could not supply even the simplest spice. having reignited the placated desire, you were greedy for more of him.

over the last seven months, you took advantage of nearly every opportunity the volkvony offered. you strengthened your abilities at sea with the careful instruction of the two other tidemakers onboard. tamar’s twin brother, toyla, guided your interest in grisha literature and history.

certain adjustments proved more difficult than others. you were no stranger to early work or rising in a shared room. however, despite the bright flush from the use of your powers, your muscles ached under the strain of the new practice. you found your training to be an unfamiliar yet cherished consistency.

you struggled with feelings of inferiority at first. the other female tidemaker, yelena, was a stowaway from the little palace. disregarding her heavy contempt for the school there, her experience helped you immensely.

peter was also a comfort in his own way. another self-taught grisha himself, it only pained you to hear of his family’s acceptance and attempts to teach him. your family might not have thrown you to the fjerdans but they offered little to help you control the power.

time could not move backwards to prevent your wounds but it could move forward to heal them.

now, perched on the deck beside yelena, you were calmer and more confident than ever before. you watched sturmhond out of the corner of you eye, turning your head in the wind to guide a piece of hair back out of your face. his white shirt billowed in the wind, sleeves rolled up and hands in the air to help dictate one of his famous stories.

“you look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky himself,” yelena snorted, elegantly drawing up a rather powerful wave to hasten your journey south, “trust me, he’ll take the hint and never let it go.”

but for you, perhaps he had. a new constellation, at least. three stars shined brighter than before for you, now visible to the naked eye. freedom, purpose, and opportunity. his gracious offer extended to beyond the imaginable.

“i could never have dreamed of this,” you replied earnestly, lightly bumping into her hip with your own.

“kerch does not have blondes, no?” she teased, exaggerating her already thick ravkan accent.

you blushed, nonetheless, “you’re going to get us off task, yelena.”

she rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the sea with a grunt. you did not miss the small smile that barely touched her face after, however. you would have missed it if she had not adjusted your arm, lifting it higher to create a higher crest.

in truth, you did not mind. you enjoyed observing. from your station at one side of the hull, you had a suitable view of the surrounding activity on the deck. storytelling only happened to be one of the aforementioned pursuits by the crew.

—

the first time was an accident. you nearly ran into him one morning during your second week onboard. the sun had filtered through the cracks in your room, beckoning your rise. you chased the sunbeams up the staircase adjacent to the door and soaked in the warmth they graciously provided.

the sunrise was magnificent. too distracted by the beauty painted in front of you in the sky, your elbow caught the captain’s. your eyes immediately went wide, an apology poised on your tongue. growing up with seven siblings, you were accustomed to making yourself smaller to allot room for the others. what other habits would you lose during your time aboard the volkvony?

“that’s quite alright,” sturmhond replied, eyes twinkling at the pale pink flush of your cheeks, “i suppose the sunrise caught my attention, as well,” he turned his head back, “though, that might not be all that did.”

as the tempo of your heart approached a crescendo, you nodded with a nervous smile. your eldest sister’s experiences with boys were all you had to go off of. your parents were together, yes, but as you aged, you realized that the nature of their union simply secured stability for the both of them. love had been an after thought and a forgotten one at that.

“want to watch it with me?” his eyes were brighter than the sun, more vibrant than the various hues splattered across the sky.

sounding just as much of a child as did he, you responded, “i would love to.”

he waited for no counter, immediately taking your hand in his to nearly drag you up the stairs. his hand was surprisingly warm despite the slight chill in the morning air. your brain fought the feeling of his touch at first, recognizing the pressure of his fingers now intertwined with yours but refusing to reciprocate the gesture.

by the time the sun reached a pinnacle in the sky, shining it seemed for just the two of you, you had given him your hand and your heart.

you let him memorize your story, pausing when he could not remember the order of your siblings. you repeated it until he could. the mornings were filled with whispers and soft touches. you thought he was helping you write a new story—one where maybe, you could have your perspective at the forefront.

—

the pressure of his his knee shamelessly pressing into yours dominated your thoughts. you decided that it would be more disconcerting to slide away from him but each passing moment added fuel to the fire of his warmth. you did not know what to think about the way he made you feel.

“i’m not who you think i am,” the privateer spoke, deadly calm. his tone did not waver, nor did the contact his eyes maintained with the horizon.

you wanted to tease the boy beside you but one look at the frown overtaking his face gave you pause. you felt increasingly uncomfortable, which you never did with him, not even when he first introduced himself. it was all wrong.

“i’m not sure what you mean,” you whispered hesitantly, trailing your fingers in the dust of the deck before they grew too numb to control.

his jaw clenched. his eyes bore into the sea. you only heard the sound of his breath—strangled and uneven.

“sturmhond,” you tried, watching as the wind ruffled his tawny and unkept hair.

“no,” he strained, “nikolai.”

an unusual name but a beautiful name, you decided.

“i-i don’t understand,” you fought to get the words out—battling with breaths instead of bombs, syllables instead of swords.

you wanted to push it all aside for naive hope, content with your pocket of fool’s gold.

“do you remember when we sailed to the outskirts of ravka?” he questioned you, gaining control of the previous shake in his voice.

you hummed in reply, trying to put together the pieces of his puzzle before he realized you had not finished yet.

the blonde looked like he was in pain when he next spoke, “the prince,” he began with his eyes timidly locked on your own, “his name is nikolai.”

contrary to your lack of education, you were clever and thus, able to fill in the blanks for yourself.

“who else knows?” you might have hoped for something more but you were not innocent enough to believe the prince only shared his identity with the girl who had succumbed to his longing stares.

“the twins,” he began with a sigh too heavy for him to carry alone, “yelena. one or two others.”

yelena knew. for some reason, your stomach turned at that. you knew it was misplaced and unnecessary jealously but there it sat all the same, weighing you down like an unmovable stone. a similar pressure pulsed behind your eyes, forcing a collection of tears to your waterline.

he offered an apology with words, but it was his eyes that held the true sincerity, the way his fingers restlessly knotted in his lap, and that even though it was a fight, he had moved aside to give you space. you wanted to believe that everything would be okay despite the change, that it could be, at least.

your heart ached. you never wanted him further away from you. or closer. his body was too familiar now.

nikolai never belonged to you, not really. and even if ravka would inevitably melt his golden heart and carelessly mold it to their benefit, he belonged to the broken country. not to you. never to you—alone.

with that, of course, you could not belong to him, either. a farmer’s daughter who did not complete her primary studies. maybe you did have a claim to grisha power, but you knew enough about ravka to understand that you would be a soldier. you already felt like one, fighting an endless battle between your head and heart. diligence and desire.

“you let me—,” you swallowed thickly, “give myself to you. you made it so easy to be sure.” now, you were no longer as certain in your decisions.

he kicked his feet in the water, unable to carry your gaze lest he lose it much like your heart, “i hoped it could be different.”

you searched for anything to ground yourself in along the horizon, burning your eyes in the sinking sun, “you’ll have to go back, then.”

he nodded, his head bobbing more fitfully than the waves, “yes.”

your did not want to talk any longer because if you did, you were sure that you would cry. you decided that you had, in fact, been foolish. how could you live off of hope alone? your destiny belonged to the fields not the sea.

“okay.”

“okay?” nikolai repeated, voice dancing between disbelief and what might have been anger, unable to remember the next step, “that’s all that’s left?”

“i think so,” you replied airily, turning to brush a lock of his hair behind his ear, “because i understand. i might not want to. well, i certainly don’t want to but—,”

you were cut off and for the blonde boy beside you to do it, you knew he had good reason. he gave you a voice simply by listening, something few had done for you before. your words had been stolen by his lips in the end.

“i might not be able to give you nikolai,” his lips were down turned but now flushed with color, “but i can give you sturmhond. i can give you nik,” he brought your hand to his heart, “that is if you’ll have me?”

you did not belong to prince nikolai of ravka. he could not be a character in your story. but, you could write another chapter. you could change the plot for the better.

you kissed him with as much fervor as he had earlier. he twisted his fingers into your hair, winding a passage to the back of your neck. you curled into the warmth radiating from his side, fisting his shirt before slowly pulling away.

“i can’t believe you’re a prince.”

that earned you a laugh. the laugh you knew you could never live with losing. if you could not have him entirely, you would hold onto anything that could be yours. just yours. for now, the heat of the sun on your faces split wide with grins was enough.

grishaverse taglist: @just-a-human-witha-pen @ilovemarvelanne1 @story-scribbler @subjecta13-thefangirl

find yourself somewhere, somehow

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader, slight cedric diggory x fem!reader

summary: you and fred are madly in love with one another, but have never expressed your feelings to each other. every one else knows though. what if that one secret ends up ruining the friendship you both have been trying to save?

warnings: mutual pining, inaccurate Harry Potter timeline, swearing, typos

notes: some of this was requested, some not. this is my 3rd time trying to post it, please give it some love, I actually quite like it <3

“I think I’m going to ask Angelina to the Yule Ball,” your lips macked together at your best friend’s words, letting them fall on deaf ears as you narrowed your eyes at the words on the page in front of you. You could feel that the twins’ gazes were on you, and you tried to suppress any form of annoyance or jealousy passing across your face.  A heartbeat passed before Fred Weasley spoke up again, “Did you hear what I said?” 

You looked up at the red-haired boy sitting in front of you, your attention being pulled away from your study notes that you were carefully highlighting. “You were talking to me?” you asked, feigning confusion. 

Fred gave you a puzzled look, his brows creasing together, “Who else would I be talking to?” he said, his voice lowering as Snape strutted by the table you were sat at. You all turned your attention to your parchment quickly, letting him pass before Fred tapped the top of your book to get you to continue the conversation.

“George,” you deadpanned, your eyes flickering to his twin. 

“I heard about this all night long,” George said, distaste evident in his voice and he rolled his eyes swiftly. You stiffened a giggle, watching Fred knock his shoulder with his, his own amusement evident in his smirk. 

“So, what do you think?” Fred beamed, a twinkle in his eye. 

“I-” you paused, glancing down the table at Angelina who was laughing quietly at something her friend said. There was no doubt she was beautiful, no doubt that she was good enough for your best friend and you would be ecstatic for Fred if she did accept his offer. You would be, really, if it wasn’t for the massive crush that you harbored for him since you were twelve years old. You remembered the moment it happened; he was trying to teach you how to play quidditch outside of The Burrow during the winter holidays and something went horribly wrong when you were two meters off the floor - you lost your nerve and tumbled off the broom, but Fred was there underneath it to soften your blow. You remembered staring into his eyes deeply, your mouth parting in shock at the sudden wave of feelings that welcomed you when you were so close to him. He ended up dislocating his elbow that day, but he never blamed you for it. 

You felt someone nudge your hand, bringing your gaze from Angelina back to Fred. You plastered on a fake cheerful grin, nodding your head excitedly, “Go for it, you will be great together.” 

Fred was waiting for your blessing, and within minutes of you edging him on, he had secured a date to the ball happening in two weeks’ time. For the remainder of the study hall, you had to listen to Fred gush about Angelina and you had to do everything in your power not to groan and lose your cool. You avoided eye contact with George, knowing that he’d give you an unimpressed look. He knew how you felt about his twin, despite you never truly admitting it to him. You’d brush off his question and change the subject, but it wasn’t hard to see the admiration you had for him. 

“Do you have a date yet?” George questioned, looking down at you. You were walking through the castle on the way to the great hall, the twins on either side of you. He hadn’t heard you talk about going with anyone or thinking of asking anyone. In truth, you had hoped that both you and Fred would be dateless the day of the ball and ultimately end up going together - but that plan was ruined. 

You pursed your lips, keeping your stare forward as you shook your head. “No, I don’t.” 

Fred draped his arm around your shoulder, you stumbled slightly at the heavyweight. “Imagine we have dates, and you don’t, who would have thought?” You knew that he was only teasing and sometimes he never uses his brain before he speaks, but that didn’t lessen the irritation that exploded inside of you. 

“Shut up,” you snapped, your retort falling in between his rambles of how surprised he was that you didn’t have a date. You pushed yourself away from him and stormed off in the direction of the common room, not feeling hungry anymore. Fred gawked at your figure rushing off, glancing at George to ask what was wrong with you. 

“You’re an idiot, that’s what’s wrong with her,” George sighed, shaking his head at his twin. He walked into the Great Hall, Fred trailing behind slowly. “Where are you going?” George turned to face him, placing a hand on his chest. 

“To-”

“Don’t be stupid, you upset her so go fix it,” Fred sighed, knowing that he was right. He twisted on his heels and walked the familiar way to the Gryffindor dorms. Exasperating the password, he jumped through the entrance and spotted you sitting down on one of the love-seats. The common room was empty as expected, the light from the fire gleaming across your face. When you looked up at him, he saw the tears streaming down your face just before you wiped them away quickly. He hated the fact that he made you cry, but sometimes he just couldn’t control how he rambled on. He never thought about how his words affected you because often you would join in on his jokes but he didn’t know that this would be a sensitive subject for you.

“What do you want?” you mumbled into the sleeve of your jumper, bringing your legs up to cuddle into your front. Fred sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. He ignored the pain in his chest when you pushed him away from you, shuffling down the couch slightly. 

“y/n,” Fred whined, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“The fact that I don’t have a date to a once in a lifetime event? Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Fred.” 

“You still have plenty of time to find one,” he said, “It’s not for another two weeks.”

“I don’t want to be someone’s last resort,” you cried, the emotions getting the better of you, “I wanted someone to be excited to go with me.” You looked up at your best friend, your vision slightly blurry from the tears forming and he looked like a lost puppy staring back at you. Fred was never one to be good with comforting you when you got upset, it was usually George who was the twin you’d go to for problems. Fred was great as a distraction, he’d bring you out and do something fun with you. This was new territory for him. 

Fred wrapped his arms around you again, and this time you let him. He sighed in relief letting his head fall on top of yours. “I’ll take you, I’ll forget about Angelina.” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes with an effort, “That’s not what I want, Fred.” 

“You don’t want to go with me?” He said, a teasing taunt in his tone. 

Placing your hands on his chest and pushing yourself up to look at him, you ignored the way his eyes followed your hand and trailed up to your face. His lips parted slightly, and he felt the sudden urge to close the gap between your lips but he refrained himself from doing so. Fred wasn’t the most observant person out there, but he knew that kissing you wouldn’t help the situation. “You know I would love to go with you but you asked someone else first,” you tried to play it off as teasing, but the sorrow was evident. Fred sighed, nodding his head, and the long strands dangled over his eyes. Giggling, you brushed them away with your fingers, letting your touch linger. “You need to cut all this.” 

“You don’t like it?” Fred pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. 

Your eyes scanned his face, the soft look in his own orbs making you wonder if you ever felt the same way about you that you did him. Considering that you’ve been friends for years without anything happening, you came to the conclusion that it was just a one-sided thing. You were the pathetic one head over heels in love with your best friend. “Your hair looks good anyway.” 

“Whoever asks you to the ball will be one lucky bitch,” Fred gleamed, jumping up from the couch and pulling you up with him, “I’m starving!”

The next few days passed with little memory of the conversation between you and Fred. Everything went back to normal; the trio that consisted of yourself, Fred and George returned back to being impractical jokers and the comments about not having a date to the Yule Ball became nearly nonexistent. With the Ball drawing in quickly, you tried your best to hide the panic that was looming inside you. It wasn’t a big deal to show up alone, if that’s what it would have to result in but it would be nice to be able to dance with someone while your best friends are dancing with their dates. You started to write up a list of potential candidates but from a discussion in Charms with a Ravenclaw, everyone that you thought you could ask already had a date. 

It was like everyone knew that you didn’t have a date to the biggest event to ever happen at Hogwarts. It was the sympathy looks from first-year witches, and snarky chuckles from sixth-year Slytherins that had their dates since the ball was announced. With a simple roll of your eyes, you smile regardless of what they think of you. If it resulted in you having to dance alone or in a group, you didn’t care. The Yule Ball was merely two days away and with a dress picked out, you couldn’t even think about the effort of having to change the colour to match some random guy’s bowtie. 

You had excused yourself from the Gryffindor common room where your friends were gathered around to go to the Owlery to send the letters that were piling up in your bedside drawer. “Do you want me to go with you?” Fred hollered as you were dunking out the entrance. 

“No, I’ll only be quick.” You called back, and started the short journey. A feverish chill had settled across the castle, people were on edge with the unknown of what the Triwizard Tournament could bring, and yet the bubbling murmur of excitement for the ball still settled over the fear and apprehension. You jumped up the steps, leaping two at a time but what you didn’t expect was the top step to be covered in ice. The moment your foot landed on the step, you knew you were done for. A squeal passed your lips and you were on route of tumbling backwards down the stairs, just as a hand grasped your wrists and pulled you up. Your breathing was heavy, ragged, as your life flashed before your eyes. 

“Woah there,” A deep voice interrupted the memory of when you were five years old. You opened your eyes and met the stare of Cedric Diggory, his grey eyes wide. His pink lips curled into a smile of relief, and he helped you steady yourself. “That would have been devastating.” 

You shook your head in shock, your eyes falling down the long stairs that you were almost laying at the bottom off, surely acquiring some broken bones on the way. “Th-thank you, Cedric,” you smiled at your saviour, before glancing down at how his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. 

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back and taking a step away from you. “H-how are you? I haven’t seen you since-”

“The World Cup,” you finished, nodding your head at the memory, “I never thought Hogwarts was that big until this year, it’s filled with students now,” you mentioned, taking into consideration the extra students that were welcomed to Hogwarts at the start of the year, “I’ve seen you of course, you’re the big celebrity this year.” 

A light blush danced across his cheeks and you weren’t sure if it was the wind or your words having the effect on him. “I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his brown hair. 

“You were really great in the first task, I did go looking for you but you were in hospital because…” you trailed off sentence, watching Cedric grimace at the memory of getting burnt by the dragon during the very first task. You slowly started to walk around Cedric to the entrance of the owlery, “I have letters to post, so I better get going… but best of luck for -”

“Do you have a date for the Ball?” Cedric blurted out, the cool composure that you were so used to seeing him dawn on gone. He let out a shaky breath, the cold air creating a cloud in front of him. 

You chuckled slightly, “Haven’t you heard? I’m the only sixth year that is completely undateable.”

“Well, not the only sixth year,” Cedric blushed again, he gulped, making his Adam's apple bobble slightly. 

“I thought you were going with Cho,” your brows creased in confusion. You remembered the conversation with Hermione and Ginny from nights ago when you were quickly brainstorming the last single men in sixth year that could potentially ask you out but Cedric was linked with Cho Chang, much to your dismay. 

“I was…” Cedric sighed, “But she called it off last night, s-she wasn’t comfortable going with me as a champion and have all eyes on her.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” 

“Would you be my date?” 

“Me?” you gawked, looking around for the twins to pawn this off as some sort of joke but your red-haired friends were nowhere in sight. 

Cedric nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I would have asked you sooner, but I kind of thought you’d be going with Fred and when I heard that he asked Angelina, I was a bit confused.” 

“Myself and Fred are just friends,” you smiled, “B-but I’d love to go with you, Cedric. It’d be a shame for both of us to go alone when we can go together.”

You returned to the Gryffindor common room with a large smile on your face. Your friends were still lingering around the fire, trying to get the warmth into them after having Quidditch practice after their classes. Fred stretched over the couch, looking over it with hooded eyes, he must have been sleeping. “What took you so long?” 

You swatted his legs off the empty cushion beside him, and took a seat before his legs draped over your lap and you sighed in content. “Bumped into someone, guess who has a date to the ball?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the side of your lips. That gained the attention of Harry and Hermione who were studying, Hermione’s ears perking in excitement. 

“Who?” 

“You’ll see,” you teased, giggling at the yells of protest. You glanced over at Fred, who was unnervingly quiet. “You okay?” you mumbled, placing your hands on his legs and pulling at his leg hairs playfully. 

Fred didn’t answer straight away, his eyes scanning your face before he nodded, “Who is it?” 

“You’ll see,” you repeated, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“You’re not even going to tell me, your best friend?” 

“Nope,” you popped, a yawn passing your lips. You ignored Fred’s dramatic pout, moving his legs off your lap to lay down on the couch beside him. It was normal for you to do this, but something about doing it now made you tense. You couldn’t pinpoint it but when his hand rested on your hip to make sure you didn’t fall off the edge, you felt dizzy and lightheaded. You closed your eyes tightly, but when you breathed in, all you could smell was Fred’s aftershave. It wasn’t strong but it was enough to make you woo. 

Fred watched you softly, how your features became relaxed the moment he placed his hand on your hip and he wondered if he was being foolish not making you his. He constantly ignored his brothers pestering, even Percy had confronted him one christmas. “Are you excited now?” He breathed out, watching your eyes flutter open. 

“I was always excited, but now I know I won’t be left alone when you’re off dancing with your date,” you replied. It came out more snappy than you expected and judging from the taken back look in Fred’s eyes, you knew he took it in the way you didn’t want it to be taken. 

“Look, I did offer to take you-” Fred pressed but you shook your head, dropping your forehead onto his chest. 

“Can we not get into this? It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re friends, Fred. You shouldn’t feel obliged to take me to dances, we’re not kids anymore.” Fred’s face dropped into the crease of your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and he nodded shortly. You both lingered in each other’s body, ignoring the gaze from your friends. George looked at Ron, giving him a pointed look and Ron shrugged his shoulders in return. It was obvious you were both so in love with each other, and neither of them knew why you were delaying the inevitable. 

Fred’s eyes scanned the crowd that were gathered in the Great Hall, that was overly decorated in white fairy lights and drapes that turned the bland gold room into a beautiful, magical event. Despite the gorgeous angel standing next to him, a wide smile on Angelina’s face, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you but you were nowhere in sight. The worry started to settle over him, his overalls becoming slightly sweaty. “Is that y/n?” Angelina’s voice tore through his thoughts, his eyes following to where she was pointing. 

His mouth fell open at the sight of you, a wide smile on your face as your arms linked with Cedric Diggory’s, who was leading you to the dancefloor. His eyes scanned your body, his breathing hitched at how beautiful you looked. He knew Ginny said you were stunning in your dress but he didn’t believe how gorgeous you were until he saw you himself. 

“Wow, she’s beautiful,” Angelina whispered, eyes flickering between Fred’s face and your figure. 

“Yeah, she is,” Fred breathed out, his grip tightening on her waist. 

“Why didn’t you ask her?” Fred’s attention fell from his best friend to his date, confusion sweeping across his face and Angelina rolled her eyes. “Fred, everyone knows that you’re in love with her.” 

“Wh-what?” he sputtered out, but he didn’t argue any further. He knew by the pointed look that his date gave him that he wouldn’t be able to charm his way out of this situation. His shoulders deflated and his eyes flickered to your smiling face, his stomach churning at the sight of Cedric’s hand resting on your lower back as he spun you around elegantly. 

Angelina stepped towards the dancefloor, following the lead of everyone else, and started to lead Fred in the moves before he took over. His red hair was brushed around his face, and his pout grew with each second passing. “It’s not too late to tell her how you feel.” 

“That’s the thing, Ang, it is.” 

“Fred, don’t be so naive. She’s in love with you too, it’s so bloody obvious,” Angelina chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. Fred spun her around to the beat of the music, lifting her off the floor like he’s practiced it so many times. Fred was trying to come up with some sort of joke to maneuver the conversation topic from you but his mind was blank - actually, the only thing that filled his mind was you. The way you laughed so loud, the way your eyes twinkled underneath the torches, how you’d devour a cheese burger in half a second, how you were always so keen to participate in their jokes but always the first to flee the scene in fear of getting caught. “I don’t know if I should be offended or-” 

“I’m sorry,” Fred cut her off, feeling slightly guilty for using her as a decoy. “Let’s enjoy tonight.” He announced, taking one more look at you for the night, just missing the longing gaze that you were sending his way. There was no one else you’d rather be dancing with than him, despite the Hufflepuff prefect making you feel extra special tonight, his attention solely on you. It just wasn’t the attention you yearned for. 

The days following the Yule Ball were a mixture of madness and chaos. They blended into one as you were whisked away to the Burrow for Christmas break with your second family, only minutes after seeing your own family for the first time since the start of the new school year. You always knew how hectic this time of year got but you never minded it much, you always enjoyed being surrounded by the Weasleys and the smell of Molly’s homemade double chocolate chip cookies made it all worthwhile. Except this year was slightly different. 

It was always Fred that picked you up from your front porch, but this year it was George. You always shared a room with the twins while you stayed in The Burrow, but this year you were lodging with Hermione and Ginny. Fred was always the first person to run down the stairs and take the seat next to you in the morning for breakfast, but this year the seat was always the last one vacant. It wasn’t only you that noticed this either, Ginny and Harry had been whispering about it all day long, Ron and George pondered what could be going on between the two of you, and it was Hermione that confronted you about the odd behaviour. But you only had one answer, ‘I haven’t a bloody clue what is going on’. 

After the vaguest of conversations with Hermione, you trotted up to the twins’ room knowing that George was outside helping Arthur with the chickens he wanted to invest in. Fred was nowhere to be seen, the best bet would be his bedroom. You knocked quietly on the door, peeking your head through the open gap and seeing Fred laying on his stomach in the single bed. The image was laughable, his long legs dangling from the edge of the bed and the quilt a thousand different colours kicked to the floor. His arms were tucked underneath his pillow and his face was pointed away from you. 

“Freddie?” you whispered, trying to get his attention. Fred’s eyes squeezed tightly at your voice and he tried desperately to calm his breathing. Maybe if you thought he was asleep, you’d leave him alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to you, it was more so the fear of blabbering out how he truly  felt about you and the prospect of ruining years of friendship. He heard his bedroom door click shut after seconds of silence, and he was just about to twist towards it when he heard your sock clad feet shuffle through the room. “Freddie?” you asked again, but he didn’t budge.

You sighed and chewed on your bottom lip nervously, you didn’t want to wake him up. He wasn’t the friendliest person after being bothered while sleeping, but your heart ached for feeling his warmth again. You unconsciously found yourself laying on the smallest bit of bed that was available to you, your arm wrapping around his torso to hold yourself up. His back was to your chest, and he shuffled slightly to let you get comfortable but you didn’t pay much mind to it. You nudge your face into his t-shirt, letting his scent take over all your senses and you place a soft kiss on the material. “I miss you,” you whispered into the silence. 

Fred was staring blankly at the wall, his heart hammering against his chest as your fingers grasped his t-shirt with all their might. He reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. Your breath hitched in your throat but you didn’t say anything. You just lay there next to him in peace and quiet, your uneven breaths mixing with his. 

“y/n, this letter is for you,” Ron called from across the table, holding an off-white envelope. You looked up from the bacon and scrambled eggs on your plate in shock, you never got letters sent for you to The Burrow. Your parents would usually call to check up on you and all of your close friends were gathered around the table. 

“Who’s it from?” Fred wondered as he occupied his usual seat next to you. The previous night where you fell asleep next to him brought everything back to somewhat normal. He was finally acknowledging you in the mornings and spending his time with you. You shrugged, tearing the letter open and your eyes widened at the signature written so beautifully at the bottom. “Cedric Diggory,” Fred scoffed, a roll of his eyes gaining the attention of his brothers around him. 

“Cedric Diggory wrote to you?” Ginny gleamed, her eyes widening in delight as a contrast to Fred's displeased look. 

“What did he say?” Hermione asked. You were about to stand up from the table, and excuse yourself but from the peering eyes of your friends, you knew you wouldn’t get far without their curiosity minds following you. 

“Just read it aloud,” Harry cheered, and he frowned quickly when Hermione shot him a look to be quiet. But Ron soon joined in and it was like a dominios effect, you sighed and gave in, clearing your voice to read the letter for the first time. 

“Dear y/n,” you started, interrupted already by Fred’s sigh of annoyance, “I had tried to contact you at your family home but they have directed all my calls to Weasleys’ household. I have tried several times to get in touch with you but seem to be having trouble - I have left messages. I hope this doesn’t come across as desperate or obnoxious but I would thoroughly enjoy it if you were to accompany me to Hogsmede this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you..” you paused, before whispering the last part, “yours, Cedric Diggory.” 

There was a deafening silence as you finished the last syllable, the words blurring in front of you on the parchment as you tried to make sense of the letter. Of course you had a great time at the ball with Cedric, but you never had any intention of getting romantically involved with him. Not when your heart was obviously set on someone else. Your mind was brought back to the kitchen of the Weasleys’ when the girls in front of you gasped out loud, squealing as they grasped for the letter to reread it. The boys lost interest the moment you started to speak, except for Fred, who fell back in the chair and began finishing his breakfast. 

“What is your secret?” Ginny gawked. “Cedric Diggory wants to go on a date with you!” 

“I-It’s not a date,” you mumbled, sitting back down. The tension between you and Fred was back, the hour of normality that you were blessed with vanished. “It’s not a date,” you repeated, but your words were aimed at Fred, who creased his eyebrows in confusion. 

“It sounds like a date to me and a bloody good one at that,” he flashed you a smile, but you could see beneath it. Something was different between the two of you, like the aura has shifted and you’ve become one. It didn’t make sense but the way Fred was feeling, you could feel it too. How his heart was hammering and his stomach was infested with annoying butterflies. It’s how you felt when you looked at him. 

“We have plans for the weekend,” you reminded him. 

“Cancel them, it’s okay.” 

“No, Fred, it’s a tradition. I can’t just cancel them.” 

Fred sighed, tidying up his plate and standing up from the table. You followed his lead and left the group to analyse the letter, you went to call him but he swiftly turned around. Your chest hit his, his taller figure hovering over you. “I’ll make it easier for you, I’ll cancel them. There, you’re free this weekend.”

“What are you even talking about?” you sighed, frustration getting the better of you. “I never said I wanted to go out with him.”

“Why wouldn’t you not? He’s Cedric freakin’ Diggory!” There was no room for arguing, no matter what you threw at him, he’d have a comeback so you just sighed and gave in. Waving the white flag of surrender for the day and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. 

There was a lake not two miles from The Burrow, it was hidden beyond trees taller than churches and you’d have never found it if it weren’t for the adventurous boys that you grew up with. You were supposed to be nestled in the corner of a tavern with the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, sharing a warm butterbeer and having that first date jitters but instead you found yourself looking over the frozen lake. It was always frozen at this time of the year. You had a large black coat on, fake fur decorating the hood as you breathed out and created your own night time clouds of air. You had your skates by your feet, too cold to change into them.

Every year on the last night before returning back to Hogwarts, it was a tradition with you and Fred to ice-skate across the lake. It was the one time that you were guaranteed to feel free and relieve any stress that has been building up on your shoulders. But it didn’t feel the same alone and you couldn’t bring yourself to put your skates on. You fell back against the grass that was decorated in white snow from the downpour earlier that day, letting out a strangled scream that you’ve been holding in. 

“Bloody hell, what was that?” A grin erupted on your face and you sat up, looking over your shoulder to see Fred standing there in a brown tattered coat, his skates dangling from his fingers. He had a yellow bobble hat on his head, his hair tucked beneath it. 

“You showed,” you smiled, kicking your shoes off and pulling your skates on with great difficulty. Fred followed your lead, sitting down next to you. 

“Of course I did.” 

You sighed, strapping the laces, “I wasn’t sure if you would, you’re acting really strange lately.” 

Fred gave you a sympathetic glance, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watched you stand up and stretch your gloved hand out to help him up. He took it, using his strength to lift himself up so you didn’t have to use a muscle. You slowly made your way to the iced surface, letting Fred test it out and he skated away in circles. “Freddie,” you called back, pouting slightly. 

A raspy laugh left his lips as he shook his head in disbelief and came back to you, letting you grasp onto his arm as you took your first steps onto the ice. “You do know you can skate, right?” Fred asked.

“I just need your help for the first five minutes, you know that,” you chuckled. You both skated around the nature-created rink, silence settling between you. The moon overlooked the two of you skating around, hand in hand - the perfect pair in a state of ignorance. Fred let go of your hand, skating in front of you and you couldn’t help but laugh as he showed off his skills. His lanky legs are quite talented at twisting around one another. Fred looked up at you, your smile beaming at him and that’s when he lost his balance, tripping over his own feet and tumbling to the ice. Your eyes widened but you were going to quick to stop and you fell over his limbs, your chin banging off the ice. 

“Fuck, are you okay, y/n?” Fred scrambled over to you, his hand cupping your chin and seeing the blood seeping from the cut. His worry was cut short when you erupted into a fit of unstoppable giggles, ignoring the pain that soared through your face. The image of Fred’s face falling flat on his ass will forever be sketched into your mind now. “Shut up,” Fred huffed, his hand dropping from your face. 

You crawled over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you tried everything in your power to stop from giggling but you couldn’t. It got to the point that your laughter became so contagious that Fred’s chest began rumbling with his own laughter. You sat in the middle of the ice rink, asses soaked and cuts on your face as you laughed for what felt like hours. 

“I missed this,” you announced in a heavy sigh, your stomach hurting from laughing so much. 

“I’m sorry for acting like an idiot the last few weeks,” Fred said. 

“What was the story with that?” you asked, reaching to fix the hat that was crooked on his head. His hands wrapped around your wrist, his gloves fingers maneuvering to hold your hands close. Your eyes connected with his, your breath hitching at the sight of his brown orbs telling you everything before he spoke a word. “Fred..”

Fred sighed, dropping your hands and scrambling to stand up. You followed his movements, skating to where your shoes and belongings were left. His broad shoulders were slouched as he got off his skates and you weren’t sure if he was going to walk away again. “Fred, please don’t shut me out again.” 

“I-I-” Fred mumbled, his eyes screwing shut before fluttering open again, “Why didn’t you go out with Cedric tonight?” 

The question took you off guard, confusion evident in your expression. “I told you already, we had plans! We do this every year!” 

“You cancelled plans with a future boyfriend for me?” Fred asked, trying to clarify the situation. 

“What are you talking about, Fred? We’re best friends, I’d always choose you over-” 

“Is that all we’ll ever be?” The words made you dizzy, the question heavy with every emotion you’ve ever felt for Fred. You looked up at him, your socks getting soaked as you stood there in shock, your shoes forgotten about. “That… That question came out more forced than I wanted it to, but I just need to know, will we ever be more?” 

“That’s not for me to decide…” you whispered, seeing his expression falter, “You’ve never- you’ve never told me how you felt about me.” 

“I thought I made it obvious.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “By taking someone else to the Ball? Or by encouraging me to go on a date? Or when we were thirteen and you told George that you only seen me as a sister-”

“Okay, they weren’t my finest moments, I’ll admit that..” Fred wanted to slap himself for being so stupid and naive, “But do you feel the same way that I feel about you?”

“If you think that I’m the most amazing person in the world, that you can’t live without me, and that you’re sick of spending every moment with me and not being able to kiss me… then yes, I feel the same..” you breathed out the words, your chest beating rapidly. When Fred processed the words, a large grin filled with relief washed over his face. He took a step closer to you, and you took it on yourself to close the gap between your bodies. He dipped his head and connected his lips to yours, his hands placing themselves respectfully on your waist as you wrapped around his shoulders. The kiss wouldn’t have been deemed the most magical - your teeth hitting off one another and your tongues sloppy mixing together, but when he pulled away and laughed, your heart deemed it to be the most magical moment in your life.