froderi mizuiro;

this is account with my artworks. no memes, no shitpost just art. ART STATUS. 🦖 commissions: yes; 🦖 requests: no; 🦖 trades: yes; 🦖 collabs: with my friends only; 🦖 gifts: at my request;

🦖 fa: @froderi_mizuiro

All nine of my tributes to my favorite adaptations of Beauty and the Beast!

Beauty and the Beast 1991

Beauty and the Beast 1987

Skønheden og Dyret 1989

La Belle et la Bête 1946

Beauty and the Beast 1997

Beauty and the Beast 1987 (Series)

Beauty and the Beast 2017

La Belle et la Bête 2014

Panna a Netvor 1978

Trust the process.

The amazing dream circus🎪👁️👁️

hold me...please

Pairing - two face (Harvey Dent) x fem reader a bad night pull harvey dent to your front door.

lost original request for this, so mad right now, ANON if you read this I'm so sorry I couldn't write this with your request:(

Prompt 19 from fuffy prompt list

>Part 1< Part 2 (smut) Part 2 (fluff)

The rain over Gotham City tapped gently against the windows of your apartment, the sound soft and steady in the quiet night. The city outside was always restless, always loud, but inside your small living space everything felt calm and warm. A lamp glowed softly in the corner, a blanket draped over the couch, and the faint smell of tea lingered in the air. Nights like this were the only kind of peace Gotham ever really offered.

You were curled up on the couch with a book when you heard the familiar knock at your door. It wasn’t loud or demanding like most people’s knocks. It was hesitant—two slow taps, then a pause, like the person on the other side wasn’t sure they should even be there.

You didn’t need to check the peephole.

When you opened the door, Two-Face stood in the hallway, the dim light outlining the shape of his broad shoulders. Rain clung to his coat and darkened his hair slightly. One side of his face was the composed, sharp-featured man the world once admired—Harvey Dent, the district attorney who used to believe he could fix Gotham. The other side carried the scars of everything the city had taken from him.

But when his eyes met yours, all the tension in his posture softened just a little. “You’re late tonight,” you said gently.

He let out a quiet breath, almost like a sigh of relief just from hearing your voice. “Yeah… traffic,” he said dryly, though both of you knew Gotham’s “traffic” usually meant something far worse.

You stepped aside immediately to let him in.

The moment he crossed the threshold, his shoulders relaxed slightly, as if stepping into your apartment meant he could finally stop carrying the weight of the outside world. You took his coat from him and hung it by the door while he stood there awkwardly for a moment, his coin loosely resting between his fingers.

“You look tired,” you said softly.

He huffed a small laugh. “That obvious?”

“Only to me.”

That seemed to make him pause. The hardened edge in his expression faded a little, replaced by something softer, something that belonged more to Harvey than Two-Face.

He sat down on your couch heavily, leaning back and running a hand over his face. The coin flipped once in his fingers before he caught it again, staring at it like it held the answer to something he couldn’t quite figure out.

You walked over and sat beside him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable—it never was with him. The rain and the soft hum of the city filled the silence instead.

Then he looked at you, his expression unexpectedly vulnerable. “Hold me… please.” The request came out quiet and a little shy, like he wasn’t used to asking for things like that.

Your heart melted instantly. “Come here,” you said warmly.

You opened your arms, and he didn’t hesitate this time. The large, intimidating man the rest of Gotham feared leaned toward you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. The moment you hugged him back, he relaxed completely, like a switch had flipped inside him.

His head rested against your shoulder while your arms wrapped around him securely. “You’re warm,” he mumbled quietly. You laughed softly. “That’s usually how hugs work.”

One side of his mouth lifted into a faint smile. It was small, but it was real.

Your hand gently moved through his hair, slow and soothing. The tension in his shoulders gradually melted away under your touch. For someone who ruled parts of Gotham’s underworld, he looked almost peaceful sitting there with you, his arms loosely around you like he never wanted to let go.

“You know,” he murmured after a moment, “people in this city would lose their minds if they saw this.”

“Why?” you asked. “The great Two-Face… asking for a hug.” You smiled and squeezed him slightly tighter. “Maybe Gotham just needs more hugs.” He chuckled softly at that, the sound warm and genuine. The coin in his hand slipped onto the couch beside him, forgotten entirely.

Instead, his arms tightened around you again, a little more confidently this time.

“Don’t move,” he said quietly.

“I wasn’t planning to.” you said shuffling into him getting comfortable

He leaned into you more comfortably, letting his weight rest against you as if your presence alone made everything quieter in his mind. The storm outside continued to fall over **Gotham City**, but inside your apartment, everything felt soft and safe.

And for once, Harvey Dent didn’t need the coin to decide anything.

All he needed was you.

- Like...

- Then why did you hit her?

- ...

- You can't hit people you like, Eric.

- She called me a MONSTER.