I think one of the kindest things you can do for yourself as an artist is to accept that you will make bad drawings sometimes and just…stop caring about it. It’s not like that bad sketch you drew was your one and only chance to ever draw the thing. It’s so much easier emotionally to just say “lol what is that?” delete it and start over than it is to spend the next six hours crying about it. Once you stop treating every single thing you draw as something precious and learn to just throw stuff away it takes so much stress away. One bad drawing doesn’t make you a bad artist, or a fraud. Even the best pro artists are gonna have moments where they draw things wrong. You’re going to make bad drawings so just go out there and make them so you can move on with your life. Chances are your second attempt will be better.
Prompt! Tomione with: are you?? sabotaging?? my dates?!?!?
Hermione had never been one to date frequently. She didn’t like the process–pick a potential partner, engage in small talk for minutes and hours and days and weeks, small talk mixed with desperate attempts to impress–it was stressful and messy and she just never liked it. She contented herself to a quiet life to herself, with her angry, vicious, but overall loveable cat as the receiver of her affection.
Then of course, Tom Riddle happened.
And then it ended.
And somehow when it ended, when he was gone, the time she used to spend comfortably on her own was tainted somehow, thick with a horrible sort of loneliness that made every other relationship she had–friends and colleagues and cats–seem unimportant and useless. She had grown accustomed to spending time with him, even time alone or time unwinding had been with him, reading or cooking or sleeping or working with him, always with him, so that everything she did she was fundamentally lacking because he wasn’t there. She would reach up to the top shelf of her cabinet and he wouldn’t be there to swipe something down for her, condescending not-quite-a-smile on his lips. She would open up Nietzche’s Beyond Good and Evil and he wouldn’t be there at her back or at her side to tear into every word in the novel to try and incite her to a debate. She couldn’t so much as wake up in the morning or brush her teeth or take a shower or go to the grocery store without feeling the absence of him like some stupid lovesick–
So, she dated.
And it was shit.
And he was alwaysthere when it all went wrong.
Her first date she met on a dating app, because Harry and Ron had signed her up for three (and it was her opinion that they had much too much fun making those dating profiles for her) and though she had been staunchly against the idea of meeting someone on a dating app, she found that the person she met didn’t seem quite as horrible as she would have expected. His name was Oliver, and he was a bit older than her, and very obsessed with football, but he was also rather lovely. He was polite and fairly well-read, he indulged her in her brief literary rants when she started on them. He was nice.
Neither of them ordered shellfish–he told her at the beginning of the date he was rather fiercely allergic–but that apparently didn’t stop shellfish from making its way onto their plates without their knowing. And that imbecile didn’t carry an epi-pen on him, so Hermione had to rush him to the hospital while his face swelled and he could hardly breathe and she saw him there, at the bar, just sitting there and watching as she dragged her dying date out the door.
Oliver was fine, in the end, but they never went on another date.
Her second date she met at a bus stop which, to be fair, was a rather stupid place to meet a date. He approached her, offered a borderline insulting compliment about her hair, and asked her out for a drink. And Hermione was hungover from a night of drinking alone in her flat where she had drunkenly purchased an extremely expensive, brand new play tower for her cat which he would never use, so she said yes.
His name was Cormac, and he definitely wasn’t the worst man she had ever met, but he was definitely near the bottom. He was narcissistic, and condescending, but then so was Tom, and she had loved him anyway. So she ignored the little things that annoyed her and tried for once in her life to just have fun and stop wallowing in her self-pity. Besides, she couldn’t expect a perfect date with a bloke she met only a few hours ago at a bus stop.
Then his girlfriend showed up, screaming, drunk, and Hermione didn’t stick around long enough to find out if it was a current girlfriend or ex-girlfriend before the girl tried to start a physical fight with Hermione, at which point Hermione just up and left. She was probably lovely when she wasn’t drunk, Hermione figured, whoever she was. It wasn’t as if Hermione was a perfect human being when she was drunk–she had bought a £250 play tower for her cat about 24 hours ago, after all.
And who should be there when she leaves the pub but him, across the street, waiting at the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. She remembered pausing on the pavement to meet his gaze from across the street, and she wanted to badly to cross traffic and punch him in the sodding face, but when the bus paused in front of him and blocked him from her view, she hurried down the street away from him and got drunk enough to buy cat-wine so she would stop drinking alone.
Her third date she met at a club. Ginny Weasley dragged her to some club in London when Hermione confided in her how many horrendous drunken purchases she had made in the past week with the promise of stopping her if she tried to buy anything else for her bloody cat. And she met a man who called himself Gilderoy. He was older and very handsome, very drunk, and very loud. He kept telling her increasingly ridiculous stories and insisting they were true, and he kissed her like he was licking frosting off of a cake.
But then there was a fire, apparently, and the entire club was evacuated, and in the freezing cold without the haze of the alcohol and the music his presence was marginally more difficult to endure, and she was cold and tired and angry and drunk and when his freezing fingers slid up under her shirt without even asking she just acted on instinct and elbowed him in the gut. And he, like an overdramatic lunatic, fell to the ground as if she had just stabbed him, and she swore she saw him in the crowd when she pushed through to get away from the blonde bastard writhing on the pavement, she swore she saw him–
So she just left and called an uber and went home and paid some artist on the internet to paint a picture of her cat to hang on the wall because he would probably be dead in a few years and she wanted to remember him, then she drunkenly cried about her dead cat who wasn’t yet dead for a few hours and texted Ginny in the morning to tell her she failed on her promise to be her impulse control.
Her fourth date was a friend of Harry’s boyfriend, his name was Blaise and apparently he was a ‘good match for her’ but Hermione was fairly certain when Harry said that he really just meant ‘you’re both single so just go for it what’s the worst that could happen’ and she agreed because it didn’t matter that it had been months since her break up, she still felt his absence like a hole in her chest, and she figured pointless dates that she didn’t want in the first place were better than sitting in her flat on her own.
But he didn’t show up.
Instead, Tom did. Just sat down in the seat in front of her in the much-too-expensive restaurant as if he belonged there.
“You can’t sit there,” She told him, “I have–”
“He’s not coming.” He answered simply, reaching across the table to pick up her wine glass and take a sip without asking, setting it down and picking up the menu to peer over it without elaborating.
“Why not?” She seethed.
“Because he’s in the hospital,” He explained slowly, enunciating the words slowly and distractedly, and she was so angry at him she felt like she could reach across the table and throttle him until his face went blue and not feel a shred of guilt.
The realization felt like a slap in the face.
“Are you–” She choked, her mouth twisting with disbelief, “Sabotaging my dates?”
He slammed the menu back on the table, the false-calm countenance fading away so quickly it was as if it had never been there to begin with the tension of his shoulders coupled with the heat of his eyes both unexpected and familiar, and it was only when she felt the headiness of his gaze that she realized he had not looked at her until that moment. “You shouldn’t be dating.” He said evenly.
“I believe I’m the one with the power to make that decision,” She reminded him viciously, “Not you. We broke up.”
“I never consented to breaking up.” He muttered, leaning back in his seat that was characteristic of him when attempting to appear nonplussed.
“Never consented–?” She narrowed her eyes, her hands curling into fists in her lap, “You facilitated the break up!”
“I did no such thing.” He even had the nerve roll his eyes as if she was the one being ridiculous, as if she was the one acting like a child.
“You are always like this,” She seethed, turning her gaze skyward with a bitter laugh, “Controlling and possessive like a petulant child–” His eyes snapped back to meet hers, the corner of his jaw twitching as if he was grinding his teeth, “–Just tell me where Blaise is.”
“I already told you.” He intoned.
“Which hospital?” She pressed, but she could tell even before she asked it that he had no intention of telling her. She huffed, picked her purse up and made to leave, “Fine, I’ll find him myself–” But before she could manage, he had lurched forward to grab her arm to halt her from leaving.
“There’s no point,” He told her, “It’s not as if he’s in critical condition, he only broke his leg.”
“You mean you broke his leg.” She corrected.
“That is a bold accusation.” He drawled, and she hated how much she had missed that tone, teasing and sarcastic, the tone he used whenever she was right and he wouldn’t admit it. She couldn’t respond right away, just glare furiously at him, until she finally managed to make herself move, to wrench her arm away from his hand and throw enough money on the table to pay for the wine so she could leave.
She made it about ten paces away from the restaurant before he caught up to her again, his long fingers wrapping around her arm. She jerked away immediately, but he held fast this time. “Let go of me!” He maneuvered her to the side, pressing her against the wall to stop her from pulling away.
“It’s not as if you even want any of these men,” He said quite severely, “I don’t understand why you are so upset–”
“You never understand why I’m upset,” She fired back, “Because you’re an emotionally-stunted–”
“Everything I do makes you upset,” He argued.
“Well then maybe you should stop being such a rotten bastard!” She snapped, “You were the one who caused this. I asked you–I asked you if you saw a future with me and you said no. What the hell am I supposed to do? Just wait around for you to get bored of me like you do everyone else?”
“You’re not everyone else.”
“I don’t know what that fucking means Tom!” She snapped, “Why can’t you just for once say what you feel instead of counting on me to read between the lines?”
His palms cupped her jaw suddenly, his fingers threading through the hair at the back of her head in a way that was almost painful as he held her still. But he didn’t say anything, he just stared at her in a moment of silence, his lips parted as if ready to speak but instead, he kissed her.
She really shouldn’t have indulged him. She should have pushed him away and maybe punched him for good measure, but she had spent months dreaming about his lips and his tongue and his hands and his everything. Maybe it was a little pathetic that she caved so easily, but all it took was the scrape of his teeth on her bottom lip for her to sigh against his lips, her hands gripping at his back like a lifeline.
His face felt rougher, which was an odd sensation in and of itself. He always kept himself meticulously put together, closely shaved and finely styled. But as he licked into her mouth she could feel the coarseness of his chin against hers. His fingers dug into the back of her head, the length of his body pressed against hers. There was something shockingly tender about the way his thumbs fanned across her cheeks, the way he relaxed his fingers to allow his hands to rest against her throat as his mouth eased away from hers.
She thought she recognized the look in his eyes when he pulled away enough for her to see. She thought she understood when she reached out and felt the coarseness of his cheek against her palm.
“You told me no.” She reminded him.
“I didn’t mean it.” He said.
“Then why did you say it?” She asked a bit desperately, trying to reconcile the strangely tender way he handled her now with the disregard he had shown her before. His jaw clenched, she saw the twitch in the corner of his jaw and felt it under her palm. She thought that he wouldn’t answer, resigned herself to his silence and weighed her options in her head, whether it was worth it to risk his inevitable disinterest just to have a few more moments with him.
“Nothing good lasts.” He told her finally. Startled, her hand fell from his face ot lay limp on his shoulder. It was the most personal admission she was sure she had ever heard from him.
“You think we’re good?” She asked carefully. His lips twitched downward into what as almost a frown.
“No,” He said, his thumb brushing across the skin under her eye. “I think you’re good.”
“You told me you don’t believe in ‘good.’“ She said quietly. He didn’t answer except for another clench of his jaw.
She took a deep breath. It was filled with the sent of him, a heady reminder of his presence, as if she needed one with him pressed against her. She didn’t think about the fights they had, the inevitable blow up that was their break up, the controlling possessive way he regarded her when it suited him and the tenderness he offered almost as a tool to draw her back in when his control wavered. Instead she thought of how miserable she was without him. She thought of the way he sometimes looked at her like she amazed him, she thought of how easy it was to share her time and space with him. She thought of how desperately she wanted to let go of all the horrible, sad things just to be with him again.
So she let it go. She curled her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him again.
When she pulled away she said, “You’re paying for Blaise’s medical bills.” And in spite of his irritated frown she continued, “And you’re taking me to whatever hospital he’s at so I can be sure he’s alright.”
Begrudgingly, he did as she said.
Afterward, they went home, and for the first time in months she didn’t feel like a stranger in her own flat.
(He did raise a judgemental eyebrow at the sudden influx in cat toys and may have scoffed at the sight of Crookshanks looking down upon them from the top of his cat tree, but he said nothing.)
I know that I truly love her because she hurt me on a whole another level and I still love her. I have a right to be mad at her, but I’m not. I “should be” speaking poorly of her, but I’m not, I only speak positively about her. I could have flipped out on her, but I didn’t, I don’t want to, I see no need to. I could be the most bitter thing towards her, but I’m not, I don’t want to be, I let her go knowing that I love her and I always will, she will always have someone to turn to. I could have left her before she got the chance to leave me, but I didn’t, I gave her the decision, because if it was up to me we would be in each other’s lives forever. I want her to be free, I want her to be happy, I want her to know that she matters, I want her to know she is so dearly loved, I want her to know she is so incredibly unique and special, I want her to know I will always love her, I want her to know that my arms will always be wide open for her, I want her to know that I have yet to find anything that compares to her, I want her to know that she is so valued, I want her to know that there will always be a spark of love in my heart for her, I want her to know that I love all of her, even though I don’t know every single detail of her life, I see who she is because of it, she is strong and beautiful and so gentile and she has been hurt, I can see those parts of her and I love her. I don’t only love her because she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, I loved her because she was raw, she had such spark about certain things, she understood, she listened, she was patient, she had a way with words, she could make me melt in a single sentence, she worked so hard, she made me feel like I mattered to someone, to at least her and that is all I needed in life, she gave purpose to life, she saw the beauty of things and the sad side of things, her mind took a while to learn, but once I got a drift of how it worked I fell in love, she has so much genuine love for her pets, she was true, she was the definition of cuteness, she was such a goofball, she had sass, she changed me, she made me happy, she made me smile, she made me cry, she made me sad. She was the only person I let my walls down for. I gave her my heart and forever I think she will have it, maybe one day it won’t be all of it, but she will always have the majority of it. I wanted to know all of her. I wanted to know her full story of life. I wanted to know why she is the person she is, I wanted to understand her in a way that no one had before, I wanted to be the one for her, I wanted to know all major events of her life, all the little ones too, I wanted to know the little things that she loved, the tiny facts that no one pays attention to, I wanted to truly know her, I wanted to feel her pain and joy, I wanted to know her favorite memories and her least favorite, I wanted to know her favorite thing about herself, I wanted to know her least favorite thing about herself. I wanted her to know I would love her no matter what. I wanted to spoil her, I wanted to take her on dates, I wanted to love her in her best and worst moments, I wanted to take her places, I wanted to finish that game of 20 questions, I wanted to love her through every mood and phase, I wanted to take her to the movies and leave not even knowing what the movie was about, I wanted to hold her hand, I wanted to give her my jacket when she got cold, I wanted to hug her, I wanted to kiss her forehead just because I could, I wanted to stare into her beautiful eyes and just think “wow”, I wanted to take her out to dinner, I wanted to stargaze with her by my side, I wanted to give her a massage after a long day at work, I wanted to dance in the rain with her, I wanted to hold her at night when she got frightened because of a nightmare, I wanted to fall asleep next to her, I wanted to wake up next to her, I wanted to see her do something she loved and watch how she would light up, I wanted to go on deep conversation walks, I wanted to be with her, I just wanted to be in her presence, I wanted to do that cute little run hug thing and then fall on our butts because it’s not a movie, I wanted to show her everything, I wanted to take her to New York City and Paris, I wanted to love her forever, I wanted to wake up every day just feeling so happy because I got to be with my love, I wanted to take her to that place she dreamed about, where we could love each other endlessly, where we could be ourselves without worries, where we would shiver from closeness, where nothing would stand in our way, where it would be every thing that she dreamed of and so much more, I want to take her there and be with her. I wanted to fall asleep listening to her voice, I wanted to show up at her work and order breakfast, only paying in change, because I know it annoys the crap out of her, I wanted to look at her, I mean just look at her, take in her beauty, I wanted to know every scar on her body and where it came from, I wanted to give her some of my own clothes, so that she would think of me every time she wore them, I wanted to buy her everything that her little heart desired, I wanted to give my little girl a kiss whenever she was down, I wanted to be a brat whenever she would try to kiss me and turn my head so that she would end up kissing my cheek, then she would get upset and she would make me kiss her, I wanted to tell her all of my useless knowledge, I wanted to tell her all of my stupid thoughts and ideas, I wanted to horribly sing love songs to her, I wanted her to meet my puppy, I wanted to meet her little bunny, I wanted to do all stupid cheesy sappy stuff with her, I wanted to teach her how to play soccer, I wanted to watch the sunset with her, I wanted to wake up early and see the sunrise with her, I wanted to enjoy her favorite month (October) together, I wanted to tackle her into a pile of leaves and then run away from her chasing me trying to tackle me, I wanted to carve a pumpkin with her, I wanted to just sit with her watching the leaves fall, enjoying the silence that we rarely ever have, I wanted to wake up extra early to make her breakfast, I wanted to get all bundled up with her go to the beach and watch the way the waves crash onto the shore, and see how the fall waves differ from the summer time waves, I wanted to catch lightning bugs with her and then let them go because we want them to be free, I wanted to take her to Starbucks and get the cliche seasonal drinks, I wanted to go through a flipping corn maze holding her hand, and I wanted to get lost doing so because we were being such morons, I wanted to watch her kick ass on the court, I wanted to kiss her in the moonlight on a night time fall walk, because I can’t resist kissing my little cutie, I wanted to be with her while the seasons changed and we had to deal with the terrible winters that we get up here, I wanted to play in the snow with her, because we truly are children at heart, I wanted to tackle her into pile of snow and again have to run away from her chasing me, I wanted to catch snow flakes on our tongues, I wanted to have snowball fights with her, I wanted to go ice skating for my first time with her, and you know of course fall on my ass and have her laugh at me, I wanted to go around looking at Christmas lights with her, and a cup of hot chocolate of course, then I wanted to kiss her when the ball drops and we start a New Year, after that I wanted to give her the absolute best birthday and birthday present ever, whatever that would have been, I would have made it happen. I wanted her to be my cheesy valentine I wanted to buy her a teddy bear and all of that stuff, I wanted to take her out on a ton of dates, whether that be dinner, a movie, stargazing, napping, breakfast, watching the sunset, dancing at 4 in the morning, watching the sun rise, cuddling, going to a carnival, or anything really. I wanted to get to know her in a way that I have never known anyone else before, I wanted to know all about her, I wanted to know all of her thoughts, I wanted to know all of her ideas, I wanted to bring her flowers, I wanted to give her everything, I wanted to be there when she gets sick so that I could give her soup and medicine and make sure that she rests and gets better, I wanted to be there when she gets a tummy ache and just needs to relax, I wanted to do all of this and soooooo much more. She will always be my 11:11 wish, my birthday wish, and my wish upon a star. I truly do think that I love her, I can’t say for sure because love never really was my forte. I believe that I am, because if I’m not in love with her, then what the hell does actually falling in love feel like?!?! Like that must be some crazy shit! I mean this is some crazy shit that I’m feeling to begin with soo….
Thank you for reading my “rant”. If anyone is hurting, I’ve heard that it gets better eventually. I feel your pain, we are all hurting together. Try listening to some Halsey she understands pain. Huge thank you to you guys too! Thank you for letting me air out my thoughts, feelings, and pain, it has helped me so much!
(not an art request) What are your thoughts on Malachite? I particularly love her design and I think she's one of the cutest fusions but I dislike what she represents as a relationship. (I thought about asking you this because your text post about why you like Jasper was really insightful and well explained.)
HMMM this is quite a difficult question…
i absolutely LOVE malachite’s design and i think its rad as hell first off. the colors are gorgeous, her short fluffy hair, THOSE MENACING TEETH, the placement of the stripes and swirls on her body, all very good things. shes quite interesting to look at and watching her move and fight is fascinating
buuuut. yeah, ultimately what she represents is a hideous, unhealthy, and to be quite frank, abusive relationship. i know not everyone sees the relationship as abusive, and i respect their interpretation of it, but when i look at the situation it reads loud and clear as abuse to me. its been explicitly said numerous times that jasper was held against her will and tortured by lapis under the ocean for months in malachite. lapis herself even admits she was terrible to jasper and liked taking everything out on her.
the worst part to me is that jasper thinks she deserves the abuse. thats why she was trying to convince lapis to fuse with her again. she’s alone and desperate for any way to make up for her perceived failure on a planet she already has complicated feelings about after having failed her mission and being defeated by the crystal gems on multiple occasions. she needs to do SOMETHING to succeed and thus establish self-worth, and if that means hurting herself in the process she thinks its not only worth it, but well deserved as atonement for her previous failures.
so tl;dr, i love malachites design and shes absolutely stunning to look at and watch move, but i hate everything she represents and the situation that she came about from.
on a somewhat related note, SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP JASPER LOL help her realize shes worth so much more than she thinks she is!!! liiike maybe somebody who knows a little something about learning her self-worth and about helping and loving quartzes
ugh i’m trying to compose an eloquent text post about this but i’ve erased it like four times now but like. there’s nothing wrong with being a moderate - in politics and in cultural stuff like fandom and everything else. a person doesn’t need to be Dead To You for saying one wrong thing. and on the flipside (and this is more my point), a generally shitty person (like jason kenney, or fucking like john mccain or someone) shouldn’t be Your God & Bae now for saying one right thing. don’t be reactionary, and don’t be polemic. don’t be inflammatory when you’re arguing with someone; they’re not an enemy to be destroyed. the end.
Crossovers between Danny Phantom and Gravity Falls are perfect because
Ghost boy meets mystery twins
Hilarious misunderstandings when Dipper inevitably tries to exorcise Danny
Danny finding another family that has a spooky portal in the basement
Grunkle Stan meeting a whole family of supernatural nutjobs and being like “oh hell no not in my house”
It would make sense for Wendy to be related to the Fentons because we know for a fact that Maddie’s sister is a redhead that roughs it in the woods. What if she named Danny after her brother, “Manly” Dan?
I feel annoying constantly talking about lotidge, but imagine Voltron has Lotor in a cell to make sure he doesn’t do anything and each of them have sessions with him in which they’re supposed to be asking him questions and talking about important stuff, but Pidge mostly just hangs with him. Like over time they just kind of chill and enjoy each other’s time. And like she gives him snacks and keeps him from being bored. AND IMAGINE THEM JUST TRYING TO HAVE FUN AND SO THEY LIKE DANCE WITH EACH OTHER TO MUSIC SHE HAS. BUT LIKE THEY CAN’T FULLY TOUCH SO IT’S JUST THEM REACHING THROUGH THE BARS TO COME IN CONTACT. What if like Lotor dances weird and awkward, but Pidge doesn’t mind because she thinks it’s cute and funny. Lotor dances that way on purpose just to hear her giggles and see her smile so he doesn’t tell her that he’s just pretending. Omg them keeping it secret from the Voltron team, like mid-dancing Keith walks in and immediately they stop and pretend like Pidge is all serious and it’s tense (even though they were just boogey dancing like). Pidge leaves saying, “We’ll continue this later.” all stern and stuff, but Lotor knows what she really means. And he finds himself becoming impatient for his next session with her.