#I think the coloring took longer than the actual drawing lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

koolades-world · 2 years ago

Note

Hello, I'm looking for some angst.

I would like to order an extra harsh reality of

"The brothers will pick their sister over Mc if given a chance"

And some side dish of "The undertables having to fight for Mc"

Thanksiiee!!

hi!! Sorry I took so long to get to this but I was so looking forward to writing this when I got it! slight mentions at nsfw but nothing is described or really directly talked about. also spoilers for lesson 16 and also also long!! much longer than I anticipated

everything I write turns into Satan pieces somehow lol

Took inspo from Harry Potter, specifically Tom Riddle’s diary in the Chamber of Secrets (don't @ me used to be a huge hp fan)

update: part two is out and can be found here :)

the dance of the haunted (part one)

It all started with a simple trip to the second hand bookstore. Satan always invited Mc, so they were together. He needed a hand carrying back his purchases sometimes and they always went someone to eat afterwards, Satan’s treat as he could never imagine asking Mc to pay.

They bookstore they visited today was a usual for them. It was close enough to walk, but far enough to avoid running into his brothers. Satan knew Mc really enjoyed old cookbooks and worn fantasy books. They also often searched for children’s books to read to local demon children as part of a school club. While he was initially concerned with them coming into contact with a cursed book, he grew more comfortable after seeing their magical ability and that they always carried an enchanted talisman that Solomon gifted them for that purpose.

Mc was over in the nature section, flipping through a book about creatures in the 3rd ring of hell. Satan found himself in the tomes section again. He, as usual, found himself rooting through the very back trying to uncover hidden gems. He was about to pick up a book he thought Mc might like to flip through it, when he froze. Just a sliver of this book was in his vision, but he already felt the magic oozing from it. It's a wonder he didn't sense it sooner. He put the other book in a hurry and pulled out the book from the back.

It was unlabeled, with a faded green cover and a golden ribbon attached to the spine. It marked a page close to the beginning. The magic radiating from it didn't seem bad in any way. It actually seemed quite positive. He was able to place it quickly after he felt the ribbon sticking out the bottom of the book.

This was most certainly a book infused with an angelic blessing at the very least, but how in the world had this ended up in a second hand book store in the Devildom, of all places. He flipped it over, looking for anything to go off of, but found nothing but a cursive golden letter L etched on the bottom right corner. He was a little afraid to open it, giving that it was in the hands of an angel at some point. After thinking it over, if anything happened to him, Mc would help him as soon as they noticed something amiss. Thanks to the pact, it would be almost instantly.

With the thought of Mc, he slowly opened the book. On the first page and on the inside of the front cover was handwriting that seemed oddly familiar. He struggled to read the words on the page at first due to the sense of familiarity. He suddenly got deja vu, as if he had held this book before. He closed his eyes for a moment to stop the world from spinning. When he reopened them, he felt like crying, and yet, he still wasn't sure why. Once he finally read what was written, he understood why.

On the inside cover, it read "Property of Lilith Morningstar" and near the bottom in large writing was a messy scrawl he recognized as Mammon's handwriting. It said "mammon waz here" with a little drawing of himself sticking his tongue out. A heart in a different color of ink enclosed the message and drawing. On the first page was a note seemingly from Lucifer. Satan would recognize his handwriting anywhere. It was a heartfelt message from Lucifer to Lilith, saying that he hoped the gift reached her well, and that he missed and loved her.

He closed the book for a second and suddenly felt faint. He sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands. He thought about what he had just read for a moment. The book that he had somehow found, maybe by chance or fate, belonged to his brother's late sister. It was a gift from Lucifer to Lilith while he was away. He realized that's probably why he felt his emotions raging. The Lucifer in him recognized the book, since he had seemingly picked it out himself to give to his sister. How had this ended up in a second hand bookstore? He theorized maybe it had been made in the Devildom and Lucifer had purchased it during one of his trips. But, angel Lucifer would have never done that. He was disgusted by the mere thought of even having to go down at the time, so the thought of him browsing shops was out of the question. Deciding to come back to that thought later, he decided to quickly flip through it, just to see what it was.

As he reopened the book, new waves of magic hit him. He didn't recognize them, but they felt as familiar as his brothers. He guessed their magic was also somehow within this book. But since it was all angelic magic, everything having to do with this book happened before the fall, before he even existed. Much to his dismay, everything beyond the first page was blank. He closed and opened it a few times, but nothing happened. He guessed it might be locked by magic in some way. The thought of trying to magically pry it open scared him again. He was a demon through and through, and since this was blessed by angels, he had no clue what might happen to him if he tried. He was certain whoever blessed this book did not accommodate for whatever he was, but he thought it to be unwise to test the limits.

"Satan. What are you doing on the floor?" Mc walked up to him, holding a few books in their arms.

"Oh, just looking at book on the bottom shelf. I got tired of crouching." He quickly placed the green book down on top of a stack of his other books.

"I get that. Just wanted to let you know I'm ready to be done when you are. Don't rush for me." They turned to walk away, but Satan stopped them.

"I'm done too. I was finishing up." He moved to get up. Mc turned back around to look at him.

"I made great timing then! Here, I'll carry some of these for you." They grabbed the first few books off his stack. He felt his stomach lurch when they touched the green book. He couldn't help but feel nervous with them handling the book, although he wasn't sure why. He didn't want to say anything about it to them, and again, he didn't know why. For now, maybe it was best he kept this to himself anyways. Mc’s expression didn't change and they continued to pile on the books until the green one was in the middle. There was nothing special about that book to them.

"Thank you." Satan made himself say. He picked up the remaining books and they proceeded to the check out together. Today, an older demon worked the register. She was familiar with the pair and had a soft spot for Mc.

"Is that everything for today?" She asked them as she counted the books. Between the two of them, they had thirteen books. Satan handed the demon the needed amount of grim, and waved them on their way. Satan insisted on carrying the bag of books home, since this time there wasn’t too many.

"Let's stop at a café on our way home. I'm dying for something warm to drink right now." Mc grabbed Satan's hand and pulled him in the direction they wanted to go in. He smiled and allowed himself to be dragged off. While they were enjoying coffee together, he was able to temporally forget about the book he had discovered. All of his thoughts were about Mc for the time being.

When they arrived home together, Mc loudly announced that they were there. Mammon came running to greet them. "Mc! I got somethin' for ya! Ya gotta come with me right now!" He grabbed both of the hands and began to pull them away.

"Thank you for the coffee and books, Satan. Tell me about what you bought at dinner tonight." They looked back at him before looking at Mammon again.

"I will. I'll drop off your books in your room. I had a great time." He lifted a hand at them, as a goodbye.

"Mc!" Mammon began to whine.

"Yes, yes. Let's go now." Mammon took off with Mc in tow, leaving Satan stewing in his thoughts again. He went back to his room with all of the books. The other books he had picked out were no longer interesting compared to the Lilith book. However, he didn't want to mess with it while his brothers were awake. The last thing he wanted was them finding out. While he felt bad keeping it from them, something in him was telling him not to show it to them yet. He had promised Mc he would tell them about the books he picked out. The only one he wanted to read was the one about cats. He could easily talk about it to Mc anyways, without having to worry about the Lilith book crossing his mind.

He read until it was time for dinner. Today, it was Asmo’s turn to cook. He was actually a pretty good cook, probably the best in the house. It always turned out well and was plated gorgeous on top of that. He came to the dinner table with the book he hand been reading, still reading. He took his seat across from Mc, not looking up just yet.

“Hey, is that one of the new books?” Satan looked over his book and saw Mc peering at him.

“Yes, actually. It’s a cat book! Cats are the best.�� He happily pointed to the picture of a cat on the front. As they ate, the conversation began to drift away from books, and onto something that Satan thought was irrelevant. He tried to go back to reading, but found himself reading the same lines over and over again. His thoughts had reverted to the little green book sitting in a pile of books on his bed. He has buried it, just in case someone happened to walk in.

As Mc mediated yet another argument between Levi and Mammon, he couldn’t find it in himself to silently seethe and glare at his brothers as he usually did. He blankly stared at his book, picking at his food. He was stuck wondering why the book didn’t say anything. He planned what he would do once he got back to his room. He knew he had a book of protective spells somewhere in the house that he might use to protect himself before attempting to interact with the book more.

“Satan. Is everything alright?” Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder, catching him off guard. The table was basically empty now, much to his surprise. It was only Beel, Belphie and himself still seated. Beel was still eating and Belphie was passed out next to him.

“Nothing is wrong.” Satan snapped back after a moment.

“Alright. Please don’t forget do the dishes.” Lucifer retraced his hand, and with one final, unreadable look at Satan, left the room. He was unsure about how to feel about Lucifer noticing something was amiss. He snapped his book shut. He wasn’t really reading it in the first place. He put the book down on the kitchen counter and began absentmindedly doing the dishes. He was lost in though about the book currently buried underneath about twenty other books on his bed.

He finished in record time. He grabbed his cat book, figuring Beel could wash his own dish once he was done. He retreated to his room. He was released to find everything just as he left it. He dug up the green book from his pile, placing all the other books on the floor for the time being. He sat at his desk, running his hands over the cover. Under his little desk lamp, it seemed to sparkle in a way that he hasn’t previously noticed. Once he opened it, he was greeted with what he has seen earlier that day. But, to his surprise, there was more beyond that.

Most of the pages in the front of the book curled from usage. At the top of each page, was a note of the date. Below this, was a diary entry of sorts. Sometimes, it was just a to-do list, or a recipe. Others, he found Lilith’s accounts of her day to day life. He decided to start at the beginning, reading the first ever entry. He hoped to gain a little context of what exactly this journal was and how it worked.

Lilith had written on the first page after the note from Lucifer about how he has sent her this journal while on a trip to the Devildom, stating it was made by a human according to the tag on the outside of the journal. He enchanted it himself to only allow her to see the contents of this journal.

Satan paused his reading for a moment. If it has been enchanted to only allow Lilith to read the journal, how was he able to read it just now? He wasn’t close to her. They never knew each other. As he flipped to the next page to hopefully skim it for context of any kind, the words in front of him began to fade. The ink retracted into the page, from the last letter she had written, to the first. He wasn’t sure what he could do to prevent this, so he just quickly read what he could. The next page was something about how Belphie had wanted to take a look at it and something about Beel. Once he got there, the words has begun to erase themselves. He watched helplessly as everything disappeared. Soon, he was just stuck with the plain book he had discovered that afternoon, and the cover no longer shimmered.

He sighed, flipping through it again. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was about to check out the back cover again when he heard his door being pushed open.

“Satan! Thought I would find you here.” Mc greeted him.

“It’s my room. What did you expect?” He shut the book in a hurry.

“Well, I can just as often find you in the library.” They approached him, touching his face. They outlined his jaw and smoothed his cheeks with their thumbs. He reached for their wrists, touching them with an imploring look.

“What’s the matter?” He petted their hair. They sat down in his lap and placed their head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but worry that the journal was right in their view now, but he hugged them close nonetheless.

“I just feel lonely.” They sighed and buried their face in his neck.

“Really? After all that time you spent with Mammon?” He laughed a little at their predicament.

“Don’t laugh! It’s not the same as when I’m with you.” They pouted and puffed their cheeks out. He chuckled a little more at the cute face they made at him.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. What can I do for you, my beloved?” He could get lost in their eyes.

“Give me affection! Just kisses will do.” They pointed to their forehead. Satan smiled at them, amused.

“As you wish.” He began to pepper their face in kisses. As Mc grew more needy, the more he satisfied them. One thing led to another, as they ended up in Satan’s bed. They stayed together for the rest of the night, the journal long forgotten.

Early the next morning, after their night of passion, Satan awoke abruptly. He looked around. He was in his own room, but his clothes were scattered around the room. A shirt was hanging by a thread off a tall pile of books. Mc was asleep next to him, their arms wrapped around him. His lamp light was still on. He reached over as far as he could to reach the off switch. Before he could hit it, he saw the journal. He glanced back at Mc. He didn’t want to wake them, but he felt the urge to open it. He reached out to touch it, and as soon as he did, he noticed it began to shimmer like it had before. He was amazed. He quickly flipped as best as he could to a random page with one hand. He could see lots of writing. He shut it again, taking his hands off of it. It remained shimmery.

He decided not to flip through it now, since he wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind to at the moment. Instead, he noted the time; 4:03 am. Once he woke up, he would check it again to get a rough idea of how long it would stay open for since earlier, he wasn’t sure how long it had been open for. He finally shut the lamp off and let the book flutter closed. He took his mind off the book, and laid back down. He tucked an arm around Mc as best he could without waking them, and drifted back to sleep.

He awoke for the second time that day. Everything was essentially the same as it was earlier except for the time and the noise outside his door. Mc was still asleep next to him, griping him tightly. It was 8:24 am now, and he could hear Lucifer pacing around past his door in the hall. He didn't make any noise. The last thing he wanted was to see his ugly mug first thing in the morning. Because of this, he decided not to leave him room just yet, but he also didn't want to open the journal either. He would, however, check if it was still "open" or readable. He flickered on his little desk lamp again, and was greeted with the shimmery cover. He didn't want to touch it, because he was almost certain he was able to set it off that morning. Once he was able to think clearer, he would revisit that.

Instead, he grabbed the first book he could get his hands on and began to read. He wasn't sure how long he was there, just reading, but eventually he felt Mc begin to stir. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Satan greeted the bleary eyed person snuggled into his side.

“Good morning love. How long was I asleep?” They yawned, making no move to sit up. Neither of them were dressed at the moment anyways.

“A decent amount. Longer than I did anyways.” He shrugged, placing the book facedown on his desk, over the journal.

“Thanks for not waking me. You wouldn’t guess how many times Mammon or Asmo have woken me up way too early. Granted, it’s usually on accident. Asmo with his skincare and Mammon with… I don’t actually know.” Mc rolled on to their side to look at Satan better, throwing one of their arms over his torso. He felt himself growing shy under their sleepy gaze. He knew he wasn't the only one graced with that privilege, but the way they looked at him made him feel so special. He would give them every star in the sky if they asked.

“That makes me all the more grateful that they don’t dare enter my room. Makes it quite the sanctuary, don’t you think?” Satan chuckled.

“Mmm, yes.” They yawned again.

“What do you want to eat for breakfast, sweetheart? Or is it too soon to think about that?” He asked.

“Give me a few more minutes and then I’ll find an answer for you.” Mc closed their eyes again, potentially going back to sleep. He used that time to reflect. His thoughts grew a little grim as he let them wander. That journal kept finding it's way into his mind. How had he been able to find that? What were the chances of that happening? Maybe it would have made a little more sense if one of his brothers had found the book instead, since part of them seemed to linger between the lines. He was a different story, though. The magic within must had been much more powerful than he anticipated.

Even as he turned his head to the side to look at the book again, he saw the pages glimmer in the light that didn't exist. Something seemed... wrong. He hadn't noticed it before, maybe due to the excitement of simply finding it. The circumstances of which he found it in too was bizarre. As a powerful demon, he should have noticed the angelic energy as soon as he entered the book store. He dwelled on this idea. Perhaps last night's activities had had an affect on it. He coughed a little, covering up his embarrassment from the invisible audience. As he thought more, it really made no sense that he just happened to find it. Had it been planted there for him specifically, or was it the journal itself? Just what did this book know? He did consider himself exceptional, but not nearly as much as his brothers. Their story was far more interesting than his own. He was just the consequence of their actions. Whatever the case with this book, he felt the urge to get to the bottom of it, despite the creeping dread in his gut.

He spent the next few days of his reading time picking though every page of the journal. He was able to learn so much about his brothers' days in the Celestial Realm, far more than they had ever bothered to tell him. Perhaps they thought speaking about it might bother him. Whatever the case, he found it strange to refer to them as angels. Lilith wrote lots about the twins and Asmo. She wrote less about the older brothers but it was clear they were just as important to her. He had know Asmo was the Jewel of the Heavens, but the way Lilith described him made him sound like the most amazing thing the world had ever seen. The more and more he read, the more he saw the similarities between himself and her. He too considered Asmo a trusted confidant, and a close friend of his. He too found himself sneaking off with Belphie for mischievous reasons, or spending time with Beel for his quiet, comforting presence. He began to realize how difficult losing her might have been for them. In the past, he knew it was a sore subject, especially among the youngest, but now he could really feel their pain as Lilith wrote about their daily misadventures. What they missed. Would they exchange him for her if given the chance? He shook this thought off, not liking the implications it might have.

Her innocence was painted clearly for him on each page, yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He checked the book again and again for traces of demonic magic but found nothing. The strangest part was that he couldn't even find his own. There was traces of various angels, most of which he didn't recognize, likely from the far gone past. The journal continued to puzzle him.

As time passed, the entries grew more and more chaotic. From her new lover, to the growing tensions between Lucifer and their father. They grew shorter and less carefree. Even her handwriting differed. She seemed to understand the gravity of what she had done. He knew this is when the Celestial War was about to begin. Her last entry was about her lover, again about how enchanting she found them, and how one day she hoped to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what. He paused for a moment, realizing this entry was written likely days, or even hours before he was born. After that entry, the pages were blank. There were some pages with stray pen marks, but that's all he was able to uncover. He knew the ending to this story. The silence told it all. He sat for a while, reflecting again about everything he had seen. As he was thinking, words began to appear on the page in front of him, in the same handwriting and ink color as he had seen in the entire journal. It was Lilith's. Satan paused. He could tell the journal held magical properties, but this was not something he expected to happen.

"Hello? Anyone there?" The words appeared suddenly. He continued staring at the page until more words appeared. "You can say something you know. Ink will do." Satan began to look around for a writing utensil at these words. Once he found one, he began to pen a response.

"Hello. Are you Lilith?" He wrote down underneath the previous words. He got his own response quickly.

"Yes, I am! How'd you know that?" Satan paused again, about to write more, but was cut off as Lilith began to write more. "Haha! Just kidding. This is my journal. My name is in it. It would be weird if this wasn't me. Who are you, by the way? I don't think I've ever had a visitor." Right away, Satan thought Lilith reminded him of Asmo. He was probably like this when he was an angel.

He stopped before bringing his pen down to the page again. He was unsure on how to introduce himself. During his visit to the past, he went by Sully, which was the stupidest name in his opinion. But, he also didn't want to lie to her. Would it be wrong to tell her his story, and what happened after the war? "My name is Satan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! That's a pretty cool name. Interesting for sure." She wrote.

"I don't want to scare you away, but I want to make this clear as to not deceive you." He wanted to tell her the truth. He felt like she deserved to know. After all, he had always felt like she was supposed to be in his place. She even wrote in green.

"Oh, tell away then. I'm all ears. I won't judge, unless you're about to confess some sort of sin to me!" She wrote, most likely jokingly. That made him a little nervous at first, but he continued with the original plan anyways. Maybe this was his way of healing, somehow. He felt better after getting everything out. He told her almost everything. He omitted the part where Belphie murdered Mc. He didn't want to be the one to tell her, anyways. It felt wrong to tell her that her death had driven him to such an extreme. She stayed mostly silent, chiming in with a few questions and stray blots of ink on the pages near his writing, as if she was resting her pen on the page.

"I hope that wasn't too much to take in at once. Much has happened." Satan was still a nervous. He really hoped she wouldn't hate him. He was just the messenger. After all, without her, he wouldn't even exist.

"I won't lie, it was overwhelming at first. But, I'm happy to hear my brothers are doing well without me. It's comforting to know that they have you and Mc now." Lilith drew a little heart next to her message.

"Glad to hear. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I agreed to meet Mc for an outing shortly, so I will see myself out." He wasn't lying. He had agreed to meet Mc, but it wasn't for another two hour.

"Alright. Have fun! Talk to you later." With that, everything she had said sunk into the page and left no trace behind.

"Goodbye." His words also disappeared. Just like that, their entire conversation was gone. He shut the book. He was glad she didn't object. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to leave early. He felt a little bad leaving her to stew in the information dump, if she actually existed beyond the book being open. Everything about the book confused him. Looking back at it, maybe he made a rash decision. Maybe he shouldn't have info dumped to her like that.

He decided to forget that for now to enjoy his time with Mc. They had an event to attend, and he had to get ready anyways. Later that night, he came back to the journal in order to study it. He opted not to talk to Lilith just yet. The sick feeling in his stomach had returned. Something was wrong with this journal, very wrong. It made no sense, even after chatting to her. She seemed sweet enough, but that wasn't enough to dispel that gross, nauseating feeling. He just couldn't place his finger on what. He felt as if he was losing his mind checking over and over again, for something, anything. But, he found absolutely nothing.

Eventually he got to the point where he was determining if he should burn it or not. He regretted even talking to her in the first place. He wasn't sure why, but he grew uneasy even having Mc in the same house as the journal. Somehow, it felt as if he was talking to someone else, as in not the Lilith who made the original entries. He placed the journal back on his desk, underneath his latest book finds, leaving to find Mc. He eventually found them by the door, putting their shoes on.

"Hey Satan. Good to see you!" They looked up at him.

"Hi, Mc. Where are you going?" He was relieved they were leaving the house.

"Purgatory Hall. I was invited over to play some games. Sol's idea." They began searching for their jacket. Satan noticed it hidden behind Lucifer's big overcoat. He grabbed it, and helped them put it on, thinking hard. "Aww thank you. You didn't have to do that." They beamed at him.

"I wanted to, it's no trouble." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Hey, do you think it's possible that I could come with you. I don't even have to play these games if that's an issue, I just want to be with you." He would feel even better if he was able to be with them, and get away from that journal for a while.

"Oh, of course! I'm sure they would love to have you. Besides, I've basically always got one of you brothers attached to me, they might find it weird if I showed up without one." Mc laughed. "I thought you were planning to read tonight, since I've been taking up almost all of your nights for the past week. Did something happen?" They seemed concerned, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you. Really, I can put off reading again. All time spent with you is precious. It's hard to be away from you, you should know. You're simply enchanting." He took their hand and spun them into his arms.

"Alright, if you say so! We should get going if we want to be on time. I can let them know if you need a little time to get ready?" Mc giggled, buying his excuse. They might have seen though him, but was glad they chose not to say anything.

"I just need my shoes and coat as well. I wouldn't want to hold you up, anyways." He only let Mc go in favor of getting ready. "You know, I'm honestly surprised you aren't already bringing Mammon or Asmo." He told them.

"Me too, actually. Asmo was busy, and Mammon was too distracted with his car repairs to pay attention to what I was saying earlier. I was almost held back by Belphie too. But, I'm here now and I get to spend this time with you." They stood beside him as he tied his shoes and shrugged on his jacket. As the two of them made their way to Purgatory Hall, Mc held his hand so tightly and gazed at him so tenderly, he was almost convinced they were the only thing in the world.

When they arrived, they had plenty of fun. Solomon had arranged a collection of games to play as a group that were randomly decided by drawing slips of paper. To nobody's surprise, Solomon and Mc ended up winning most of them because they were human games. Satan forgot all about the journal. That is, until, he received a phone call in the middle of one of their games. Mc was draped over him with their arms around his neck, also curious about who might be calling them at a time like this. It was Lucifer.

"I told them we were heading out. What could he need?" Mc reached for the phone but Satan stopped them.

"If the call is for me, it's probably to yell at me or something. I don't want you to be on the receiving end of that." Satan rolled his eyes, and brought the phone to his ear, planning to brush off anything he said. He was really only answering because Simeon was in the room, who would answer it for him.

"Come home. Now. You have explaining to do." Lucifer growled through the phone. At first, Satan wasn't worried. He got ominous calls from his older brother like this all the time.

"What is it?" He sighed. Mc laughed a little, causing him to smile. The others began to chat among themselves while he was on the phone. This was normal.

"You know exactly what this is about. On your desk in your room. Underneath three books. Your keys on the left. The pen you used on the right." Satan froze. The smile left his face. Lucifer always sounded serious, but this was one of the few times he sounded like he was about to rip his throat out. He had found the journal. Mc didn't hear what he said, somehow, but noticed his change in demeanor.

"What's the matter, 'Tan?" Mc brushed some hair off his forehead.

"Nothing, my love. Don't worry about it. It's the usual nonsense." He moved the phone away from his ear for the moment, and then back once he was done speaking.

"Let me speak to Mc. I want them home too. Now." The tone Lucifer used to dangerous. Satan knew that was unwise. He didn't know what his plan was, but he didn't trust him at all.

"No. I will come home, but I'm not bringing Mc. I will not needlessly involve them. This will stay between us." Satan began to grow angry. He couldn't help it. Typical Lucifer, complicating matters.

"If you don't come right now, I'll drag you both back personally." Satan knew he wasn't kidding. None of his threats were empty.

"Fine. Have it your way. We'll be home shortly." Satan hung up before Lucifer could respond. By now, the entire room was staring at him. He looked totally different than he had before. He was tense, his rage obvious.

"Are we leaving? What's the matter? Did something happen?" Mc looked at him, concerned.

"I'm heading home to take care of something, but you're staying here. I promise it's nothing serious." He lied through his teeth. He didn't know why Lucifer wanted Mc there, but he knew it couldn't be good. The journal was bad news, and they were involved in no way.

"Are you sure? Lucifer said he wanted me there, right? You know how good I am at sorting out issues in your family. I really don't mind, if that's the issues." They squeezed him a little. They were so caring. Too caring.

"I'm sure. I won't act out or anything. He's probably mad about chores or something. I wonder if Mammon sold his underwear while it was my turn to do laundry again." Satan smiled. They cracked a small smile back.

"Alright. Keep me updated. I'll be waiting for you." Mc pressed a kiss to his forehead before climbing off of him.

"Simeon, before I go, can I have a quick word?" Simeon, who was comforting Luke, turned at the sound of his name.

"Of course." Simeon stood up, gesturing for Mc to take his seat next to Solomon. Luke was seated on the floor between them. Mc looked worried, but moved regardless. Solomon looked around the room, studying everyone's expressions. Simeon walked with Satan to the entry way. "What's the matter?" He asked, holding out Satan's coat for him.

"I want you to place a blessing on this building. Do not let any demon in under any circumstance. Including me. I don't care what they say. I don't have time to explain, but something is very wrong at the House of Lamentation and I don't want a single one of my brothers near Mc." He shoved his shoes on as he spoke. He hastily put on his jacket and turned to look at Simeon one last time.

"I don't know what could be wrong, but I trust you. Mc is safe in mine and Solomon's hands." Simeon let his hands fall to his sides, opening the door for Satan. He watched as he took off running in the opposite direction of the House of Lamentation. He could only stare and wait for him to be a good distance away, before shutting the door. He went back to the living room to find Mc hugging Luke, Solomon with a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Solomon." Simeon said the sorcerer's name. He stood up and walked over to him. "Satan didn't tell me what the matter was, but I need you to do a quick check of the house to make sure nobody but us is in here. Satan requested I bless the house to keep his brothers out." The expression on both of their faces was grim.

"Of course." Solomon shut his eyes and waved his hand. Once he reopened them, Simeon knew he had completed the check. "Nobody but the four of us are here."

"Thank you. Normally I would ask Luke to help me perform the blessing, but I would prefer to leave him alone for now. Will you accompany me?" Solomon nodded. Simeon led him away, leaving the room together, leaving Mc and Luke along together on the sofa in the once full room.

"What's wrong, Mc?" Luke asked them. For once, they had no clue how to respond to the boy.

"I'm not sure. Simeon might know more, but for now, we just have to wait. In the meantime, do you wanna play some more of the games?" Mc hoped to take his mind of the ordeal.

"I don't really feel like it, sorry." He sighed, worried. He had always had concerns about Mc living with demons and them seemed to be coming to fruition.

"That's alright. Do you want to watching something maybe? Simeon made cookies that are cooling in the kitchen, right? We can get those." Mc tried again to get him in better spirits.

"Let's wait for Simeon and Solomon to get back. They might be worried if they return and we're gone." Luke admitted.

"Good point. I'll turn on a movie for now. What do you want to watch?" Mc got up, leaving Luke in their spot.

"Anything." He usually had more to say. Mc could tell Luke was very worried.

"Alright." Mc went through the various dvds Solomon had stored away near the tv. After finding one they liked, they put it on. The two of them watched this movie together since there was nothing better to do. Eventually, Simeon and Solomon returned with said cookies. Rather than sit on the free couch, they all sat together. They could all tell Luke was worried. The desserts remained untouched.

"I have a surprise that I think you'll like, Luke." Solomon spoke up. Luke picked up his head. "I was told that Mc could stay the night, so we can have a big sleepover together. Does that sound good?" Luke perked up.

"Oh, good. That sounds great! I don't want to send Mc back to those icky demons. Where are we sleeping?" Luke sounded excited, making the rest of the room smile.

“We can stay in my room.” Solomon watched as the little angel jumped out of the cuddle pile and ran to gather pillows and blankets.

“It’s nice to see him happy again. I honestly think he might be more concerned than me.” Mc sighed, reaching for a cookie.

“If we knew what was wrong, we would tell you. I just know Satan asked me to place a blessing on the house.” Simeon explains.

"I figured. It's fine. We just need to hope for the best..." Mc stares at the cookie, thinking about Satan and what he might be doing right now. They just hoped he was safe.

ty for putting up with me and not putting out anything for so long... and sorry for the cliffhanger lol. really wanted this out but a. not sure how much longer it will take and b. not sure what I want the ending to be yet! lol

part two soon hopefully sorry to anon for taking so long!!!!

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heazueken · 5 months ago

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Hi, I saw you were taking requests ? I just read your vastaya!Jayce fic and it was really really good and since you're open to requests, I wondered, why not try ? If it's alright ?

I just had that thought that... I don't think Jayce ever saw Viktor crying. Crying is often a byproduct of sadness or frustration but also sometimes joy. Or sometimes, it's a "everything is just too much and I need to purge it" and I think Viktor would really benefit from a good cry. I don't know, I just have this really vivid image of Jayce whipping away Viktor's tears with his thumb, or kissing the corner of his eyes and comfort him ?

thanks a lot if you have the time or inspiration to give it a shot but otherwise it's more than fine ! I hope you have a good day !

thank you so much omg! i had a ton of fun writing it if you couldn’t tell lol!

when i read this request i immediately thought you want my dead. reminding me of this, i view viktor as so restrained and someone who bottles up his feelings bc who the hell can he go to? i hope what ive written expresses that and i appreciate you and everyone’s patience for my writing :) i hope you enjoy!

wc; 4.1k

Viktor was a loner. Singed was the first to insinuate the label on a poor child and since then Viktor had accepted that fact.

I’ll never be noticed or remembered. I’ll always be a loner.

Had he been noticed by one of the founding fathers of Piltover? Yes. Was he still looked past in every situation? Yes. Despite being on the taller side he never felt like anyone’s focus, sometimes he felt that way about Heimerdinger— the very man who gave him the wonderful opportunity to be his assistant.

Then Jayce came into his life. This young (one year younger than him) naive, boy who was toying with something much bigger than him had been on the verge of banishment had it not been for his mother to get involved and lessen his sentence to expulsion had been the one to completely turn his entire life around.

He had never been included in anything his whole life. Hearing the words “our Hextech dream” was something completely otherworldly to Viktor. It’s like Jayce had reached into his chest and grabbed ahold of his heart and took it for his very own to keep, and Viktor was happy to do so even in his state of shock.

Their relationship then formed at a rapid pace, they were allowed a lab together and worked side by side and for once Viktor actually felt like he belonged. Being a Zaunite in Piltover was, well, unheard of for the most part, let alone the fact that he was disabled.

And that’s where we are. Viktor has come to a conclusion the more he looks around Piltover and at the very many citizens who happened to be disabled in one way or another. You’d think Viktor and these people were one in the same but you forget one thing—

Viktor is still a Zaunite. Which means he doesn’t get as well of a treatment for his ailments like the rest of the Pilties (he heard the term once when someone from the undercity mistook him for one).

You see, Viktor’s leg had been bothering him, more so than usual and at first it started with his cane. No longer could he take a few steps without it or get up without having to use it as leverage. The thing was practically glued to his hand and it wasn’t working well anymore. Old and rusty the thing was and Viktor had half a mind to make his own because Gods knows no one would make one for him.

Then one day, Jayce came strutting in, decked out in his usual fancy get up. A double breasted button up with his house colors accented on the shoulders and waist. He has a few things in his hand, measuring tape, a metal rod, and a permanent marker. Viktor turns his full body towards Jayce.

“What’s this?”

Jayce smiles and Viktor’s heart flutters momentarily. “Can you stand up for a moment?” They look at each other for a moment, Jayce with a big fat smile plastered across his face and Viktor who stares back at him with a perplexed brow.

“Okay…” He draws out the word and grabs his old cane beside him so he can lift himself off the chair. He uses all his strength, leaning the entirety of his body weight on the cane and Jayce is suddenly rushing in front of him and setting down all his supplies on the table.

“I’m such an ass, here—“ His huge hand wraps around Viktor’s entire arm. For some this would be comforting— big strong man helping you, lifting you and taking care of everything. “Let me help.” But for Viktor this was torture. Since when did he ever make it seem like he couldn’t do a simple thing like get up from a chair? How dare Jayce even think of such a thing. They both know what Viktor is capable of, they both are aware of his resilience and independence. What an insult to his character. He smacks Jayce’s eager hand away and stands up on his two legs with shaky effort.

“I’m not some helpless cripple, Jayce.” He spits with venom and it’s not directed towards someone he would call a best friend but no matter— Viktor directed his own frustration with himself on Jayce. His hand grips the handle of his cane tightly and he grits his teeth, his jaw protrudes with irritation and shame. He looks away from the man in front of him because he knows if he were to face him he’d be met with the saddest pair of puppy eyes he’d ever seen. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to rid of the image but a hand on his shoulder deters him.

God dammit.

An antagonizing gaze, a scolding, Viktor can see it now. Jayce giving up on him because he was too difficult, too weak, too incapable of doing anything himself. The staccato tapping on his food filled the room's deafening silence. The air felt heavy and Viktor’s cheeks slowly warmed up with shame. He finally begins to lift his head to look up at his partner before him.

Jayce looks at him with waxy eyes, there’s a sadness in them and an understanding. But what could he understand about Viktor’s terror, what claws at his spine and the chronic aching of his leg. The feeling of his body decaying, cracking and breaking slowly like a growing tumor of torment.

Viktor tears his eyes away and bites his tongue.

“I’m up now. What are we doing?”

“Right.” Jayce’s voice is tight but there’s an underline of softness. He pauses, afraid to move but slowly goes for the measuring tape he set on their desk and the other can see him out of his peripheral come closer and take a deep breath. “I..uh, can I get some measurements from you?”

Huh?

Viktor’s head snaps to stare up at Jayce. “What? For what?”

Jayce just takes a step closer. “I’ll show you when it’s ready. Please?”

There’s a twist in his stomach and it makes his insides feel like they’re being sucked into a black hole and that makes him dizzy. What exactly was Jayce planning here? He goes to eye the other supplies to piece his thoughts together to come up with what he could possibly be doing but before he could Jayce was already blocking his view.

“It seriously won’t take more than a minute.”

His leg is starting to hurt now and he just wants to sit down and get back to work. He reluctantly slacks his shoulders and motions for Jayce to do what he came in here to. Jayce seems to practically hop with excitement and the clinking sound of the tape measure echos in the room.

Skin on skin wasn’t something Viktor was very familiar with and he didn’t make it much of a habit to be touchy with anyone. Jayce had proved to be quite the opposite and it seemed like all he could do was touch. A hand on the back, the shoulder, hell, he even laid his own hand over Viktor’s once during a frustrating day of experimenting what else the hex crystals were capable of doing. Viktor did not like physical touch.

Yet with Jayce it was a losing battle and he could never admit that at times he actually enjoyed the warmth of his hand and the comfort of someone at least being there with him.

This was not one of those times, however. Viktor—still ashamed with himself for snapping at Jayce— couldn’t handle the proximity of their bodies. Jayce is much too close and his knuckles brush over his ribs as he closely measures his friend's height, then the length of the floor to his shoulder, then from the floor to his armpit. He mumbles to himself and scribbles down the numbers he collected.

Just as quickly as Jayce invaded Viktor’s personal space, he was moving away from him and curtly saying thank you before making his way out of the lab with a haste Viktor had never seen.

He really fucked up.

It had been a couple of days. Viktor had been so consumed by his contrite thoughts that he completely disappeared from the lab. Taking to staying in his room and only leaving at late hours into the night when he knew no one would be around in the halls or streets to notice him. He was good at slipping away, at being alone. It was for the best, really. He’s out of the way, there’s no chance of him getting frustrated towards himself and directing it towards anyone who didn’t deserve to get the sharp end of his abhorrent views of himself.

He missed the lab, though. He missed Jayce if he was being honest with himself but that was a lot harder to face and so he would simply forget the thought even popped up and put it on the back burner of his mind. But that burner grew hotter and slowly began to simmer before turning into a boil and bubbled over him all at once how much he truly had fucked up.

“I owe him an apology at least.” He decides tomorrow morning he’ll go back and properly say his sorry’s.

Just as he was getting ready to settle into bed, there was a knock on his apartment door. He looks at the clock.

11:45PM

There was only one person who knows where he lives and knows he’d still be up. Viktor gathers up his courage with each step towards the front door.

Of course it’s Jayce behind the door, he didn’t even have to question it nor look through the peephole. He slowly opens the door and peeks around the corner of it.

“Jayce?” He says like he’s shocked. Jayce is standing there, looking handsome as ever but he didn’t seem like his usual self. His hair was a bit messy and his five o,clock shadow had grown into a scruff. His eyes were droopy and held evidence of a long sleepless night— or several nights, really. His face seems to lighten when Viktor answers the door, almost like he wasn’t expecting him to even give him the time of day.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I needed to see you,” He says it frantically and Viktor flinches at the intensity of his tone. It doesn’t go i noticed and Jayce takes a step back in a silent apology. “I wanted to give you something…I’ve been working on it for a bit now.”

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t have the faintest clue, but with him a little further away he feels safe enough to open the door wider and get a good look at the man in front of his doorstep.

Plain white T-shirt, a pair of pajama pants with…is that his family crest on the sides? The get up was in high contrast compared to what he had on his feet— his fancy, brown leather work shoes. Viktor stifles a laugh expertly and glances back up to Jayce who he now notices is holding something behind his back.

He sighs and admits defeat, perhaps moving his apology to tonight would be better. He couldn’t even begin to think of going to sleep with the fictional scenario he’d play and replay over and over again until the sun finally came back up. He had to own up to his own stupidity and immaturity. Viktor widens the door open and steps to the side to let Jayce in. They smirk awkwardly at each other and the younger walks in just as awkwardly. He side steps, his back facing away from Viktor to deter him from seeing the it behind him.

He rolls his eyes but finds himself smiling and feeling the warmth of his beating heart increase. It makes him feel sick and he takes a wobbly step forward, leaning his hand against the wall. He’d forgotten his cane in his bedroom. Jayce stands there unsure to reach out and ask him for help and that terrible knot in his throat grows at the base of his neck and creeps up until it’s in the underside of his jaw.

“Before you show me what you’ve made. I…needed to tell you something.” His hand on the wall turns into a fist and he presses it hard as if to ground himself. He fights the urge to look away from Jayce because good lord he looks scared and Viktor knows he thinks he’s done something wrong.

“It’s nothing you’ve done.” He starts off when Jayce doesn’t respond. His shoulders fall just an inch and he sees the immediate relief wash over his friend before he continues. Viktor can’t fight it, he looks down at his feet. “I wasn’t myself a few days ago. I…I wasn’t feeling well and it brought up some unwanted thoughts and I couldn’t control myself. I snapped at you.”

Silence. He still can’t look at Jayce because that knot in his throat has turned into glass and it shreds down his throat with each difficult swallow and he knows the tears come after that. “You were just trying to help me and I did need help— I wanted the help but I was too embarrassed to take it from you and I directed my own frustration onto you. I’m sorry for that.”

Once more, silence. The air is thick and Viktor wonders if Jayce can feel it. Can feel the struggle to breathe and that terrible churning in his stomach just as he’s feeling now. He’s too scared to look up and to be met with a ridiculing glare and an unforgiving tone. But he hears the wood floor squeak under Jayce’s weight, and he hears it again, and once more.

His head is hung low, his fist is tight and he can feel the nails almost break the skin of his palms. Viktor’s eyes squeeze shut and he braces himself for Jayce to walk right past him and slam the door behind him.

“Hey,” His voice is sweet and warm and it’s much closer, so close that it startles Viktor and draws a gasp from him. His eyes are glassy, still fighting back a few tears but he opens them to look up to see Jayce just inches away from him. A smile grows across his lips, his eyes like a warm drop of honey bear into Viktor’s and there’s a soft, apologetic look across his features.

“You don’t have to apologize. It was out of turn for me to assume you needed help—“

“No!” Viktor exclaims, he opens a palm out as he feverishly speaks, “It’s me who’s wrong! I spoke out of turn and let my anger out on you when you were just trying to help. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you’re capable of doing things yourself, V.” The nickname makes his stomach flip, Jayce doesn’t use it often and it catches him by surprise every time. “I just saw the pain in your face and I wanted to help.”

“I know! And that’s why I’m apologizing, because I smacked you away and..and I was cruel.” He drops his hand and lets it smack against the side of his thigh. Viktor releases a drawn out sigh and lets his shoulders slump. Jayce looks down at him solemnly.

“It wasn’t cruel. But I accept your apology— even though I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“Well, I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Jayce chuckles. “Maybe a little bit, but I’m fine.”

They stand silently again, Viktor finally letting his hand rest spread out on the wall. His leg was beginning to hurt now and sitting all his weight on one hip was beginning to pinch a nerve. He looks back to Jayce who’s still standing there with his hands behind his back.

“Have a seat and show me what you made already.”

Jayce’s expression changes into one of worry and Viktor swears he can see a bead of sweat on his forehead.

“R-right! Uh, let’s have a seat.” He lets Viktor lead the way. He had never been in Viktor’s apartment very much, he mostly strictly stood at the threshold and spoke to his partner there before leaving. Never had he taken a step inside and taken in the homely atmosphere Viktor had curated. It was so very Viktor, with the likes of books and endless shelves of academic publications printed out and bound in thick leather. Or the many notes strewn about with at least one pen or pencil resting on any surface. He noticed a small toy boat on display in his living room and he has the urge to ask him about it, or the drawing of what seemed to be a mechanical golem resting on his coffee table in front of his worn loveseat.

Before he can even ask, Viktor is reaching down and crumpling it and tosses it into a bin. They sit side by side on the small couch and Jayce feels his cheeks blush when Viktor indicates for him to show off already.

“Okay, uh, could you…look away for a moment?”

Viktor raises an eyebrow and purses his lips. “I’m sorry?”

“I want it to be a surprise…just indulge me…please?” Jayce attempts to bat his eyelashes and Viktor laughs at the clumsy way he can’t seem to find the momentum to bat them quickly. He obliges and places his hands over his eyes, he shuts his lids for good measure.

“No peeking, got it?” Jayce almost giggles.

“I would do no such thing.” He would.

Jayce brings the gift out from behind him, he’s shocked that he was able to hide it this long, he was sure Viktor would figure it out by now but he’s pleased to know his lab partner is oblivious to the fact that he had spent a week perfecting what he hoped Viktor would appreciate.

There’s cool metal on the palms Jayce told Viktor to face upward in his lap and it shocks him before he’s slowly wrapping his fingers around the material. He slowly opens his eyes, aware too much of Jayce’s intense gaze, there’s concern and hope and fear in his eyes and Viktor finally looks down at what’s been placed in his lap.

His eyes run across cool, steel metal with accents of red, white trimming of metal brings the piece together and his hand finds the first handle of what is a brand new cane sitting across his legs.

The handle is red and it looks to be the perfect length and width to fit into his hand. There are indents shaped just for his fingers and it’s made with cushioned leather. Viktor stares in awe of the expert work of the shape. His eyes follow up the cane to the top handle, it's curved and made with the same leather. On the tip of it is a circle framed with metal and what looks to be Jayce’s family crest. His eyes glide back down it, finding the same sigil on the side of the cane.

He’s speechless. Utterly incapable of saying a single word, let alone form a sentence. Jayce had taken the time and effort to actually make this for him. He thought his chronic pain hadn’t been so obvious— at least it wasn’t to literally everyone else who knew him or were acquainted with him. He never had been perceived so closely, so intimately and it aches in his heart the realization that Jayce had clearly seen Viktor this whole time.

He was no longer alone and Jayce had seen the inner workings of his pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised, they were together every single day and they were coming up on five years of working together.

Viktor’s ribs were a broken cage and released his emotions freely. The dam that held back his tears broke and out came a flood. His vision immediately becomes blurry and his hands tremble with the cane rattling gently in them.

“I…What…Why did you do this?” His voice is shaky and he bites his tongue to stop himself from speaking. He sounds so pathetic and small. “This is for me?”

Jayce gently reaches his hand over and places an index finger on the top handle.

“This is for support under your armpit and this—“ He points to the next handle. “Is for your hand to grasp onto. I saw the way you had been leaning lately and I could see the pain it was causing for you…I wanted to try and make something to help with that…”

He’s too sweet. Much too sweet to be in the presence of Viktor— someone who couldn’t fathom why he deserved such a thoughtful and well crafted piece of metalwork. He spent his free time on this, he worked on this by hand, by himself, for a week. He thinks back to the strange measurements Jayce had asked of him. How he tried to be slick and looking back he was because Viktor was too busy with his maintenance on the Hexgates to really consider why the hell Jayce needed to know how long and wide Viktor’s hand was or how he liked to hold his cane and how heavily he leaned onto it for support.

Viktor still couldn’t find the words. He barely even notices he’s crying until he sees a tear land on the metal and he’s immediately turning away from Jayce and swiping the rivers running down his face. He knows he looks pathetic like this and he never once wanted anyone to see him cry, let alone Jayce of all people.

“Thank you…truly,” He says with a shaky breath, his voice cracking around the lump in his esophagus. He covers his mouth, still turned away from Jayce.

“You didn’t have to…”

Warmth spreads across Viktor’s hand, he feels Jayce’s calloused fingers against his skin and it doesn’t help the flow of falling tears. His eyes screw shut but it’s not enough to hold them back and he barely registers another hand reaching out and Jayce’s thumb swiping across his cheek gently.

“Viktor,” He speaks gently, saying his name with relief and a sweetness that made Viktor’s teeth ache. Hearing his name come out so gently is too overwhelming and he shakes his head. “Hey, What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Yes. Yes! You saw me and for the first time I’m feeling like I’m someone important!

His mouth parts to speak and it’s dry, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he attempts to form a sentence.

“No…no…you did a wonderful thing, I'm just…I’m embarrassed.” Jayce wipes away another tear that escaped and ran down to his lip. He captures it and rubs it away on the edge of his lips and they both a shock in the touch of his fingertips. They say nothing about it.

“Why?” Jayce asks simply.

“Crying…”

“You’ve seen me cry. How is this any different?”

Viktor’s glassy eyes look up into Jayce’s and this time he’s able to hold his gaze.

“I’m not meant to be comforted.” He says it so plainly like it’s a fact and Jayce feels his heart throb in pain. How his partner could ever think such a thing about himself he has no idea but he’ll do anything to change his mind.

“You are,” He lets his hand cup Viktor’s cheek and he watches the way his lashes flutter closed and he leans into the touch. “Don’t ever say that. You deserve…everything, Viktor.”

They sit like that for a while, Viktor unsure of what to say next and instead basks in the comfort of Jayce’s touch and Jayce who watches the tears slowly dry and leave streaks on his cheeks. It isn’t until he pulls his hand away does Viktor look back down at the cane in his lap. He turns it in his hands gently and runs his finger over the family sigil.

“The Talis hammer…a bit egotistical, don’t you think?” He huffs a laugh and Jayce is equally amused, his cheeks grow red and he slides his hand across the side of his neck as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, well, habit I guess…” He leans in a little close. “You really do like it, though?”

Viktor, now smiling down at the cane, nods. “Yeah, I do. Looking at it might make me cry again.”

“Well, let me take care of that then.” Jayce’s thumb runs across one of Viktor’s cheeks affectionately and for a second they forget they’re just friends and revel in the comfort of one another.

#anon #requests #pepper writes #jayvik #jayce talis #arcane #viktor arcane #arcane fanfic #jayce x viktor #jayvik fanfic #jayce league of legends #viktor league of legends #viktor fanfic #jayce talis fanfic

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rascalentertainments · 8 months ago

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I FINALLY FISHED DESIGNING THEM, YAY!! 🎉🎉

It took me way longer to actually get started than it did draw this, lol. I ended up having a weird where my hand was stuck in the writing position, so I had to take a day's break. But my work paid off!

Now while I did take inspiration from the concept art. I went a different direction for the color schemes. Like how @lazytitans-world pointed out, the concept art heavily implied that Star and Asha and Magnifico and Amaya were meant to be parallels of each other. So I wanted to present that in my designs.

Since Star has a black/gold night sky look, Magnifico has a cloudy gray/blue sky look. Think of them as being similar magic wielding beings, but they're opposites to each other. Star has fun, vibrant and free magic while Magnifico's magic is negative and constraints freedom. (He looks a little weird in my style, honestly)

As for Asha, she has her purple/lavender color scheme with her homemade clothes and bracelets, while Amaya wears a more greenish and gold attire, complete with royal jewelry. They both carry a satchel, however Amaya holds any potions or powders she needs at a moment's notice. It comes in handy when she attempts to shut down Star's shape shifting powers.

Now all that's left is to design Sabor and the trio is complete! (Plus I'll be designing Gabo soon as well)

So after a break, I'll work on my gift for @ishadow246, and finish up Chapter 9 of Wish Granted!

Also, my fic is slowly coming to Ao3, so more people can access it! 😉

I'm going to sleep now, I'm tired...😅 Hope you guys like it!

@oh-shtars @chillwildwave @tumblingdownthefoxden @uva124

@thesafireauthor @your-ne1ghbor @annymation @spectator-zee

@ishadow246 @snackara @cielos-pintados @kenihewa

@mythartist21

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phxntomhives · 1 year ago

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P4 headcanons

Because I just realized this is my blog and I can do it lol.

Edgar Redmond

He learned how to dance when he was little and always loved it.

His favourite author is Jane Austin but won't admit it to anyone.

Puts a lot of effort into becoming a better person but tries to hide it because it should be something "effortless".

Flirt with women but will panick if they flirt back and he would run away.

Hasn't slept for a while after Maurice's "accident" wondering how he could not see the truth .

Lawrence Bluewer

Has tried to read all the books of Weston as a personal challange

Secretely likes coffee.

His sisters dressed him up more than once as a girl.

He has, unwillingly, learned how to put on make-up, and he is good at it.

He wouldn't have minded to become a professor, and Professor Michaelis was his role model for a while.

Herman Greenhill

Loves dogs. Has many of them at home.

The cricket bat he carries is a present from someone he cares about and that's why he always bring it with him.

Adores sweet but has to pretend he doesn't.

His favourite sport is horse riding.

If something is too difficult to understand at school he goes to discuss it with Lawrence and pretends that he just want to exchange their opinions on the topic Lawrence knows and just helps him without pointing it out.

Gregory Violet

He makes his own lip-stick. It took a lot of effort to reach that color and he is proud of it.

Sometimes he looks at the other three and wishes he was taller.

His hair were longer but he was forced to cut them.

His hair are actually white, but he prefers black so he dyes them. He leaves the white strand because it looks cool.

Needs glasses but refuses to wear them.

Slight angst version + Ship discourse + Spoilers of future arcs hidden so you don't have to see them unless you want to

Edgar Redmond

It needs him a while to fall asleep because he keeps thinking of the last Midnight Party and his expulsion from the school.

After Maurice's accident he had a breakdown in his room and broke some stuff while crying, thinking how he could make the same mistake twice.

He was the most excited about the Starlight 4 project and couldn't wait to get on stage.

He couldn't drink tea for months after the midnight party without throwing up.

Lawrence Bluewer

Didn't sleep for a week after the expulsion and ended up collapsing in Edgar's house.

Herman Greenhill

He was depressed after the midnight tea party and thought of killing himself to atone for his sins. Gregory noticed and slapped him before hugging him.

After the creation of the S4, if bad memories/thoughts get to him, he start training one of the song.

Gregory Violet

Wanted to run away from Blavat the moment he noticed O!CIel.

All P4 (poly because I can't separate them)

They accidentally all fell for each other and tried to keep it a secret, it soon failed as everyone was getting jealous of everyone.

It was awkward at first, no one knew how to act.

The Edgar and Gregory accidentally teamed up to act like everything was normal and they slowly found balance.

Edgar thinks it's his duty to maintain them together and happy

If Gregory scrap a drawing, the others just sneakily take it back and keep it safe somewhere else.

Any drawing Gregory made of the other is also extremely well preserved by that person. And the other three friendly argue on who has the most drawings/who has the prettiest ones.

Edgar cuddles anyone. Doesn't matter where or when, if he wants to cuddle he will find someone. His favourite victim for this is Herman because he gets flustered the most.

Lawerence's sister are always casually the companions for everyone is there MUST be a female companion at an official event. (They want to tease their brother)

Herman refuses the others to lift anything.

Lawrence started to read out loud when he noticed that the others fell asleep faster if he was talking.

Herman is the first to wake up and force himself to be as quiet as possible to not wake the others up.

They wait untile veryone is present to start eating.

Lawrence is the most possessive of the four.

Do I have more? Yes, but for now just take my small offering.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #p4 #prefect 4 #edgar redmond #lawrence bluewer #gregory violet #herman greenhill #kuroshitsuji headcanons #black butler headcanons

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suethesocks · 2 years ago

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Max 10 Speedrun

I have not posted in over 6 months so now i need to catch up on all the ben 10 art i have not posted hueheuhe. Also have some asks which i will get to !!

Swampfire! Tried to honor the bloomed design with the collar and bright fingers even though i really hate it in the show (lol) also gave him 1 eye to represent his weak eyesight. Also the weakness i gave him about the fire burning him shouldve been a thing in the show tbh

Echo echo, tried to go for a more boomboxy vibe bc yk boomer Max. I like the idea of aliens looking extremely different while still being the same species (not a subspecies like murk and perk gourmands, thats cool too but different)

Humungo. I actually was never a big fan of him lmao, i always thought you need to do more with him than just "dinosaur" especially with that color scheme he has in the show. I got the idea to give him feathers to show the drastic change in age also bc i love chicken dinos and think they should appear more. Fun fact the power change come from what i used to think his powers worked like when i was a kid

Jeffrey!! One of my fav aliens ever. Not much about this is special just bigger with different colors. I also took a few notes from the concept art with the weirdo shaped eyes and having his body be a mantaray with legs sticking out to make him less humanoid, since ben's jetray design looks more like a man with wings than a mantaray with legs yk?

Another screenshot redraw!! This is the only other one ive done sadly, i really oughta make more screenshot redraws tbh. This one is of the scene where kevin and ben get chased by the entire frickin fbi or something for stealing a video game. I imagine in this version max chases after them and comes for the rescue

Lodestar! Never been much of a special alien. Design on the right is made by me aswell since i wanted to do my own spin on bens lodestar (basically the same just give him longer arms). Once again he has 1 eye to represent max's eyesight problems

Brainstorm! Instead of giving him specially weaker eyesight i made his shell cover his eyes as the way to visually represent that (as well as the classic squinty eyes i have going on for each alien

Also i got asked while making this how come maxstorm is so big when psychobos is also old and visibly smaller, and my answer to that was that third image. In my head i always saw psychobos as sort of disfigured and mutated, and not representative of what is typical for his species. If he were to turn into a human thatis what i think hed look like

Goop! I always loved goop, and the idea of a ufo antigrav device helping him navigate because hes not built for earths gravity is a super unique and cool idea. However i i wanted to go for something entirely different with my goop since i never liked the idea of the omnitrix creating non-clothes for the user (bc then you have to consider that it would create a respirator for ripjaws, and thats lame)

And thats all!! Id expect myself to have made as many Max 10 drawings since i stopped posting as before, but sadly i have slowed down significantly over time, especially on max 10. Im not really happy about it and im trying to be a fast artist again but its not coming to me. On the brightside though, ive got a fair bit of other Ben 10 stuff to show!!

#art #digital art #fanart #ben 10 #ben 10 fanart #grandpa max ben 10 #grandpa max

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 9 months ago

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Hey! I got a matchup a while back, and lately I have been craving another one😭 so if it's alright could I get romantic matchups for tears of themis, genshin, and atla? If not that's fine ofc💕

I use She/her pronouns but I've never really cared very much, I'm Bi but I'd like Male matchups for this one if that's alright (I love women but idk none of the women in these fandoms are like my type??? Idk)

Not sure if you use looks to pick, but I'm 5'7, longish brown hair and brown eyes, kinda chubby I'd say, and I wear glasses!

Ok so for the good stuff, I'm an enfp and a virgo and I have gad and adhd so I am very all over the place lol, I'm usually very energetic and loud (got called a human pep rally once) but every once in a while I take a hard turn the other way and do absolutely nothing lol.

Taking thing seriously is kinda hard for me, idk why but I'm very much the deflect and cope using comedy kind of person.

Personal life wise I'm the oldest of four (love my siblings) so loud is kinda the default in my life so I'm pretty comfortable in loud environments, but if I get a chance at peace and quiet I am JUMPING for it.

I have a few plants, I bake quite a bit (I make BOMB brownies), I'm very much a nerd lol, I love comics (fandom request gave that away tho), I play dnd, I love video games (rdr2, mk11 and mass effect are the current ones), I watch cartoons and build legos, and I'm learning how to draw.

I'm big into flowers and flower language, and I play guitar, alto saxophone, steal drum, and I have a violin I'm gonna start working on soon.

This turned out alot longer then I thought so the speedrun of the rest is although I dont often, I really like putting work into how I look (I just got a treble cleft claw clip with some dangly thingys and I like it I just wanted to mention that), no clue how to to makeup tho, I'm planning on going into communications, and uhh my favorite colors are pink and blue.

Thank you so much if you get to this

Hi Abby! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took a while. I hope you like your matchups!

In Tears of Themis, I match you with...

If there’s one thing that drew Luke to you, it’s the fact that you enjoy peace and quiet. He loves being in your presence when it’s quiet around. He just finds it soothing.

Definitely understands you using humour to cope. He does the same so he knows when it turns from just making jokes to coping and will check in when needed.

Please invite him to do gardening together some time. He likes being able to do something where he’s creating and nurturing life. It’s a good change from what he usually does.

Flower language is a big part of your relationship. I see Luke as someone who’s well versed in flower language so every bouquet he gives you has a hidden meaning behind it.

He also enjoys drawing so it’s not uncommon for you to find a sticky note beside your bed with a little drawing on it when he has to leave early in the morning. If you return the gesture, he’ll keep all your drawings in a safe place so he can look back over them.

In Genshin Impact, I match you with...

You and Itto are both the definition of human pep rallies so when your powers combine, no one can stand in your way. You can both be a lot sometimes but you get along well.

He also struggles to take things seriously so he’s a lot more understanding in that regard than others are sometimes. You just get each other.

In a modern au, Itto would be a huge fan of cartoons. He’s a firm believer than cartoons aren’t just for kids and still loves watching all those “childhood” shows.

In the same vein, he also loves Lego. I can’t see him being a big fan of tricky sets but he enjoys all of the bright colours. He’d love to make a set or two with you sometime.

I can see Itto being a fan of D&D as well. I think it might take him a bit to get his head around the different types of rolls and doing so much maths but he loves the roleplay elements and thinks it’s great fun. (I actually wrote this while playing a D&D session!)

In Avatar: The Last Airbender, I match you with...

You’ve got to be a certain level of energetic to keep up with Sokka’s plans. And you certainly meet that criteria. Sokka loves being around someone who can match his energy.

In a modern au, he’s definitely a fan of comics. He’s the type of person who buys two of every comic, one to read and one to keep in pristine condition.

For all his self-awareness, Sokka does have a tendency to deflect so he can easily recognise when you’re doing the same. He hopes you know you can rely on him if things get too much.

When he does run out of energy, there’s nothing that Sokka loves more than relaxing while listening to you play music. He finds it soothing both because of the music and because of your presence.

Please do lots of baking for him! Sokka will never admit it but he does have a soft spot for snacks, especially if you’ve made them.

#writing #fanfic #matchup #matchup request #request #tears of themis #luke pearce #genshin impact #arataki itto #avatar #avatar the last airbender #sokka

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m0onlitmercy · 2 months ago

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"in a house full of girls."

percy being one of four brothers in a house full of sisters... send tweet

cw. original characters galore that will be explained in other posts!, allusions to child abuse, gabe ugliano mentioned a few times sorry :/, author's own personal headcanons thank you, absurd number of twins and triplets because i couldn't decide lol, probably doesn't make much sense but fuck it we ball

youngestbrother!percy who's the youngest triplet and the youngest boy in his family, and is therefore not only babied by his mother, but his sisters as well. he complains about his about his sisters, dany and maddy, not getting babied the same way he does, and whines to his brothers that their sisters coddle him too much, only to get teased about his cute little cheeks that haven't lost their baby fat just yet. he's left to fend for himself when eldest sisters cassandra and adrian coo and pinch those same cheeks and only draws the line at such affection when his brothers start in on him, too— basically fighting his way out from under them.

youngestbrother!percy who argues endlessly with his triplet sisters about who was born first out of the three. he's adamant that it's him, swears up and down that the first thing he saw was the doctor holding his sisters in their arms, and heartily claims his authority over the girls as the first triplet of the batch. they go to sally, hoping for resolution to this ongoing debate, and he's borderline heartbroken when her hand is forced, and she has to admit that he was actually the last triplet to be born. he doesn't stop pouting until sally promises him a blue breakfast and homemade tres leches the next morning.

youngestbrother!percy who shares the same dark curls and sea-colored eyes with his brothers and sisters. his, princess and eska's are a shimmering sea-green that they had gotten from their father, while cass, adrian, dany, mikey, andie, dom and maddy all have varying shades of blue, like their mother. it's hard not to see the resemblance when they all stand side by side, though percy swears that he sees more of his mother in his sisters while seeing an empty vision of his father in his own reflection.

youngestbrother!percy whose hair is almost perpetually frizzy, because all his sisters love to stick their hands in it: ruffles, twists, swoops and noogies alike, one of his sisters' hands is always attached to his head. and he claims to hate it, groans every time he feels fingers weaving through his scalp for the umpth time, but his siblings know different from the way his body almost instantly relaxes, a soft, quiet sigh leaving him as the familiar fingers work through the naps and tangles. even all these years later, at eighteen with a load of trauma suited for someone centuries older than him with the worst luck, he swears that he's no longer as affected by it, but five minutes into their weekly movie night, all it takes is for dominique to twirl her hands in his hair and he's passed out, drooling in her lap, underneath the blue shark-themed blanket, snoring to his heart's content. (the girls definitely took pictures, and percy tried to swear them to secrecy. the pictures were sent in the groupchat within the day.)

youngestbrother!percy who thinks the absolute highest of his sisters, no matter how badly they embarrass him sometimes. he always seems to glow a little brighter, stand a little taller, when someone mentions that he's their little brother, especially when it gets him brownie points on the playground. he tries to follow their lead, emulating their confidence and their mannerisms, and he thinks he's extremely subtle when he does. it's adorable, really.

youngestbrother!percy who never fails to go to his sisters for anything. it's kind of jarring how open he is with them, but it's actually really sweet. when he needs advice? he's knocking on his sister's doors or pressing their name on his phone. depending on the advice he needs: if it's girls and he doesn't want to get made fun of, mikey. if he does want to get made fun of, literally everyone else, but especially cass, andie and adrian. if he just wants to talk? they'll put together an entire groupchat so he doesn't have to choose. and in return, percy thrives when they let him sit in on girl-talk and hang out during girls' night. and yes, they put him through skincare— face masks, clay masks, serums, the whole she-bang, and he loves it!

youngestbrother!percy who claims to dislike being affectionate with his sisters because they tease him too much, but is always caught climbing into one of their bunks after another weird dream that he can't fully remember. he's thankful when none of them say anything when he inevitably curls up next to them in the middle of the night; he passes out almost instantly when princess runs her fingers through his shaggy hair, scratching at his scalp. he wordlessly wraps his arms around her, snuggling into her shoulder. the next morning, he unfortunately has to hear his brothers snicker across the table when princess offhandedly mentions that she nearly fell out of her bunk because percy kept hogging the bed.

youngestbrother!percy who never feels crazy around his siblings. he knows there's something different about him, about all of them, because who else can say that they were once stalked by a man in a trench coat with only one eye in third grade. or the time he, his sisters and their entire class took an unplanned swim at the aquarium when the shark tank had inexplicably collapsed. or when the triplets were in pre-school, they had been found napping happily with the corpse of a snake three times their size. yeah, you get the point.

youngestbrother!percy who fights with all his siblings about who gets first plate for dinner ("youngests eat first!" is his favorite phrase, unfortunately). sally made arroz con gandules and the siblings swear that whoever gets the last plate always has less. afterwards, they fight with each other about whose turn it is to wash the dishes and percy is the first to say that it's certainly not his turn 'cause he did them last time!

youngestbrother!percy who takes the fall for his sisters all the time— sometimes unwittingly, sometimes on purpose. he just hates when smelly gabe has the nerve to yell at any one of his siblings; hates that he can only watch as cass, adrian, andromeda, dominique and eska are berated about "carrying their weight around here". sometimes he can't help but say something, even when his siblings tell him to shut his mouth— that they can handle it themselves, but he'll be damned if gabe tells one of them that they "can't afford" to get essential hair products, all so he can have a bigger budget to spend on beer and poker. he may take a beating for it, but it's worth it if continuing to help his sisters with their hair— one of the only times he really gets to be with them anymore— remains a part of their routine.

youngestbrother!percy who, unsurprisingly, is extremely protective of his sisters, full stop. he constantly gets into fights with his brothers all because someone decided to make fun of andie's haircut or dany's hair. fully got suspended for attacking a younger boy because he said something about maddy's bangs— and immediately ran to collect his brothers and jumped some stupid boys a few years older than at the park when they pushed adrian and eska off the swings. it doesn't matter how big, how old and how miniscule it is— percy and his brothers are immediately at their sisters' defense, and the same can be said for the other way around.

youngestbrother!percy who, despite being protective, is surprisingly chill about his sisters' love lives. he trusts that they have good judgement, especially after their own personal experiences, and genuinely makes an effort to get to know his sisters' partners. sometimes, they don't work out, and that's okay, but if he even hears a single tremor in any of their voices, he's about ready to hunt someone down for hurting them.

youngestbrother!percy who struggles even worse at boarding school when they start separating the boys and the girls. he simply feels the most comfortable sharing a dorm room with girls because he shares a room with dany and maddy, and doesn't know anything different. he gets his stuff constantly mixed up with theirs because they don't have their own dressers, but percy doesn't mind wearing a shirt with a shimmering unicorn on it because who is going to tell him what he can and cannot wear besides his mother.

youngestbrother!percy who gets into the standard "girls vs. boys" fights with his siblings but not in the way one would think. he has silly competitions with his brothers about who can do the girls' hair the best, who can find the girliest shirt they own, and who can steal the most hair ties, clips and barrettes for their own hair; and they are swiftly jumped by the girls when they find that their hair tie supply has gone down by at least 50% since they last saw it.

youngestbrother!percy who adores going to their cabin in montauk because that's when he and his siblings can really let their feelings loose with each other without having to fear a certain someone's temper. he loves when they get to be as rowdy to their heart's content because the living room at the apartment was off limits and any "childish" noise after 9pm only worsened gabe's temper. it's a bit morbid, but he likes to pretend that they live there permanently, with the occasional thought of their father returning home from being "lost at sea", finally reuniting their family.

youngestbrother!percy who is obligated to side with his brothers when one (or all) of them gets into with the girls, as one of four boys in a house full of women. he pouts when sally playfully sides with the girls, and grumbles that he should've sided with the girls when they make the boys collect seashells for them on the beach.

youngestbrother!percy who knows how to do hair surprisingly well and essentially becomes his sisters' personal stylist. who tries to remember the twists and braids that his mother puts in the girl's' hair as his tiny, chubby fingers work in their curls. who refuses to let anyone else touch their hair after andie's incident... and besides, nobody else but his mother could make his sisters' hair look better, and with him there, there was no need for them to find anyone else.

youngestbrother!percy who's closest to neither his brothers nor his sisters and refuses to claim that he's closer to any one of them. because after all they'd been through together— the nightmares, the fights, the abuse, the expulsions, and the boarding schools— he couldn't choose just one of his siblings.

youngestbrother!percy who had the typical YCS* phase where he kind of wanted his parents to get back together, but in a really skewered way. because, on one hand, the stories sally regaled him and his siblings with about their father made it clear that despite whatever it was that kept them apart, their father loved her with every breath in his body. but, on the other hand... he left. "lost at sea" or whatever it was that his mother insisted, and instead, sally had to settle for... the likes of gabe ugliano. an ugly rage festered at his father, mixed with confusion, a strange case of idealization, and maybe even the desire to have a father. all he could think about was what could've been: why couldn't his father do more for sally? (even though she herself made it clear that she was more than a little stubborn) why couldn't it just be her, him, his siblings and their dad, like all the other families they had grown up seeing. and then he discovered he and his siblings were demigods— sons and daughters of the god of the sea, poseidon, and suddenly things were finally being put into perspective for him.

youngestbrother!percy who doesn't not like paul, but can't help but a bit awkward with paul for a multitude of reasons: he's not fully healed from his experience with gabe, and he's not too fond of men in general anymore, frankly, and he's still kind of going through that YCS phase. but he trusts his mother to make her own choices, especially now that he knows why she put up with the thing for so long— as long as his mother is happy and being treated as a woman like sally jackson deserves, he's cool.

youngestbrother!percy who becomes one of paul's groomsmen on his and sally's wedding day, alongside his brothers. he fights with said brothers about who gets to be his best man, but paul only insists that if all of them can't be his best men, then there's no need for a best man, and the boys reluctantly agree (but percy secretly thinks he's the best man). during the ceremony, percy is the one to give sally away, and even though he tries to hold it in, he can't help the tear that escapes. even when the tears start flowing like waterfalls and his brothers are snickering at his sides, he doesn't miss the way they're all trying to hide their sniffles.

youngestbrother!percy who is ecstatic when estelle is born, because now he finally has someone to baby just like his siblings! he fights with all of them when they claim he hogs the baby, but he can't help if he's little estelle favorite! he's just a velcro-teenager! it's not his fault that his baby sister is excruciatingly adorable, he simply cannot say no to her. (and yes, this does mean estelle gets away with tons of things; no, he was not afforded this luxury himself.)

*YCS — youngest child syndrome LMFAO

is this too long? possibly! :D sorry gang the brainrot took over, and yes, i am projecting because i, too, am a youngest child!

#percy jackson #pjo #rick riordan #riordanverse #percy jackson au #first original characters woohoo!#original character #additional headcanons i have simply did not fit this particular narrative i fear #but trust i have more!#absurd abuse of twins and triplets let me LIVE #originally had him be the only boy in a house full of girls but i could always change my mind lmao #the girls still outnumber them tho :D!#i hope this makes sense this came to me in a cold sweat and i kept adding stuff #first time posting kinda nervy #please tell me you see the vision #puerto rican percy jackson propaganda!

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dunyun-rings · 2 years ago

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Sorry I worded the ask weirdly and I overthought it so I'll ask it again in a way you might feel better about answering publicly lol: how long does it take you to do your works? Like your color wheel nausica for example? I'm new to digital art and I feel like it takes me way longer to draw stuff than on paper. I'm sure I'm just not used to it but I also don't know what I should be expecting of myself, if that makes any sense.

Your question definitely makes sense!

First of all you shouldn’t beat yourself up for needing time to adjust to a new media. To give you an idea of how long it took me to adjust to it: I grew up drawing on paper with graphite/color pencils with no serious dabbles in digital art until the very tail end of high school (2013). Then when I first started using Sai and Photoshop (the first like 3 years) I would draw with pencil and paper and then color digitally. Coloring and editing my art that way made me familiar enough with the programs that I felt like hey screw it, let’s just try drawing straight in Photoshop. So I finally started doing that around 2016 and was very slow at completing drawings that way at first. I feel like I actually finally got into the groove of drawing quickly in PS around 2018.

So anyway the point of that ramble is that skills take time to develop, and you may need to adjust to a different way of going about things if they aren’t working for you. For instance I think it’s totally viable to color traditional line art digitally and not redo the lines. Whatever gets you to make a foot of progress is worth exploring in my opinion.

To answer your actual question: the amount of time I spend on a piece varies with how much detail is in it. I would say that for any full color humanoid figure it takes me about 30 min to 6 hours of work (30 min being very simple chibi-type things or like, small animals lol), without counting the time I spend setting up the canvas, collecting references, planning the composition, etc. Full illustrations with backgrounds are usually between 5-11 hours because I have to be a bit more deliberate about how I go about it.

Hopefully this is helpful to you! Keep drawing and stay cool 😎

#asks

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maddiemuu · 2 years ago

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14, 20, 21 for the ask game :3

HAII sorry it took me longer than i thought it would to answer this. my week was inexplicably very long ':3

14. Any favorite motifs

i'm not rly sure!! most of my cartoon pieces r just for funsies, so i don't always feel pressured to push myself stylistically or thematically lol. a lot of the time it is just A Guy. i do really like eye imagery, fabric drapery, and foliage/flower imagery, though!! i also like obscuring/removing facial features.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

HANDS!!! hands r my bestfriend. they definitely CAN be hard to draw but i don't find that offputting- it makes it like a fun puzzle!!! (my true anatomical enemy is the dastardly foot...) also, to a lesser extent- fat people. i don't think fat bodies are actually nearly as hard to draw as ppl make them out to be, though :]. but i feel like that is a different and very long conversation lol.

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

OHG I HAVE A LOT... i will narrow it down to just a few. recently i've been rereading some lynda barry comics and MAN i love the energy of her art. such beautiful colors and bold lines!!! the looseness a lot of it has rly enhances the emotional gut punches i find a in a lot of her work lol. for another comics style, i wouldn't consider jaime hernandez's style to be too dissimilar from mine, at least in the grand scheme of things, but the sleekness in his lineart is something i can only aspire to. love and rockets is one of my favorite pieces of art ever <3. this is also a much broader category but i'm a big fan of a lot of soviet cartooning and animation styles, especially the more shape based ones!! tbh i think at least part of it is the novelty- i'm from the USA, and at least in my experience, we've never fully let go of the stigma around soviet (russian specifically) art lol... especially when it comes to the realm of cartoons/non fine art. it's very interesting to see how similar and dissimilar it can be to contemporary US art :]. i also really like a lot of color field painting, though it's not a style of art i personally feel creatively fulfilled by making. i especially love barnett newman's work. who's afraid of red, yellow, and blue iii is a personal favorite!!! i have a lot of thoughts on it and how it was vandalized.

#asks #HEHE this was fun. thank u <3333

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dedusmuln · 11 months ago

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HEHEHE thank youuuu :-]!!! i'd be happy to talk about the design details for Xara as well !!! Xara was really fun to design because of the fact that she doesn't really have an in-game appearance in her admin form... but that same fact also made it a Pain to design her i initially debated between giving her green or yellow skin because i've seen a lot of people do either/or , but eric stirpe responded in an ask that her skin was in fact Green and her hair Purple, so that helped give me more clarification ! her admin color palette isn't my Favorite, but i eventually narrowed it down and got it into something that i really liked :-]. i had a ton of pictures up of different mobs from the end, since i wanted her design to relate back to the End (like Romeo's with the Nether), and i wanted to pick some of the colors (and traits) from said mobs.

most notable in Xara's admin design are the dragon traits that i gave her, meant to mimic the ender dragon! i chose to keep the green on all the dragon traits to contrast the purples + pinks of her hair and armor. the green is a bit more blue than the one in the reference pictures, but that's because i also based the color off of the eye of ender :-]. speaking of the eye of ender, i tried to incorporate them into her armor wherever those green dots and lines were (and also another on her forehead). it kinda gave her armor more of a futuristic look when compared to how i drew Romeo's, but i'm not exactly complaining! i think it helps them contrast.

i decided to make her eyes the same color as endermen, because i didn't want to Only take traits from the ender dragon (though i just noticed it has the same purple eyes too, lol!!). i made her spikes the same light pink color to give a glowy look, which is something i emphasized in Romeo's design too. the armor colors and design i was a bit more hesitant on, because i found the placement on her game-model was a little bit off, but i ultimately decided on a differently colored chestplate with lines going down the torso and around the shoulders. the pink elbow pads were added because i felt like there was a whole Lot of purple space!

anyhow , with Xara's hair, i've always interpreted it as her having a messy bun in the back with hair still hanging downwards, so i went with that! she also has strands of hair in the front, so i added some curly spiraling strands. her face also has scales on it :-]. i chose wings instead of actual ears because i thought it would be fun. i wanted them to be long and stick out like the floppy ears i gave Romeo.

honestly, the human design i gave Xara isn't too different than the in-game one. however, i tried to empasize the fact that her hair has two different colors, alongside making her hair look messier than her admin form. the strands in the front are longer, and so is the back. i gave her really heavy eyebags because. well. we all know she hasn't had any rest for Years. and i added some stubble + an adam's apple because my friend headcanons her as intersex and i think it's True as hell. also women can always have a little stubble as a Treat. there's a mole on her forehead where the third eye was, and a few on her cheeks where the scales were!

overall, i tried to make her look more put-together and serious than Romeo. her eyes are flat at the top to make her look more determined and unamused, while Romeo's are the direct opposite! his are flat at the bottom to always give him a humored look. i really wanted the two designs to stand out against each other, because they're both very different people, and i feel like it worked! Xara's all colorful and regal and futuristic looking, while Romeo's more rough around the edges and all games. Xara's human design is rugged and tough, while Romeo's looks like he just got dunked in a glass of milk.

i really am happy with her even if she took longer to design than i expected, and i hope you all like her !!!!! i'm planning to pause to draw one of my MCSM ocs next, but i DO eventually plan to draw Fred too :-P!

I ... .LOVE.... WOMEN !!!!!!!! (rips off shirt to reveal another shirt that reads "I LOVE XARA MCSM")

#once again thank you for asking :-] humoring my rambles #i love character design so much. and i love xara so much #i really wish we could've seen her admin form but i get why they decided against it #her face is a bit more rounded than i drew romeo's but i still wanted to keep it Longer. i've just always seen her like that- not sure why!#i may end up changing a few things eventually... but for now i like her a lot :-]#i can't wait to get to fred too . YAAAY !#my textbox #mcsm #xara mcsm #my art

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softlittleheartsandsparkles · 1 year ago

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how do you start a hobby like the one you do? I'm scared to try something like that and mess it all up...

If this is more like psychological fear, I'd say just take it slow... Like my first one I've ever done was really rough. (It was a seahorse who's body portions weren't right... He was huge compared to the piece of aida I was working on. I was suppose to have room for 3. >.> he was a big boy. There wasn't room for three. lol) I think when you try something new, and your learning a new skill, it's better to just do the activity as a journey/experience rather than trying to focus on it looking "perfect". Like think about a MMO or something were your doing a quest, your new to the game. The experience is finding the item the npc requested, it doesn't matter how you go to it or how long it took you to find the item, you return the quest & You had the experience that makes you wanna keep playing. Crafts to me are similar, only you have no npc on the other end waiting. It's easy to criticize what your doing, or even become paralyzed with fear and not try it because your worried about it not looking right. But I think sometimes reframing the thought as rather then this is a artsy- craftsy, I gotta be good at this sorta thought. Just think of it as this is just an experience, and I wanna see where it goes. My first project as I mentioned was pretty rough, but I really liked cross stitch. (I love looking at peoples finished works) and cause I have some experience doing other crafts (drawing, painting) I do try to use the thing I mentioned before which is try to recognize when I'm new to something, I'm *new*, so I try to remind myself I'm not going to be as good as someone who's been doing cross stitch for 10 years, or someone who was taught as a wee one & there now a fully grown adult in whatever stage of life. Its not fair to compare myself or hold myself to those standards. I'm also not actually comparing myself properly cause I can't see there original (first) works. Why compare myself to someone who's mastered something - and me someone whos a novice. Thats not fair to either party & it also puts unnecessary stress no one else is applying to me. What I do instead is pick out aspects I like about cross stitch & try to notice when I feel confident/happy. I also find noticing how cross stitch makes me feel (the activity) really makes it more benfictional compared to just being 'oh i'm sorta better at it now". & what I mean by feel is I mean like, for me cross stitch helps me tap into that mindful/relaxed feeling. I find it enjoyable, even the ripping up stitches aspect. (meaning I don't view this as a 'ugh. *hates this aspect of the craft so much I'll abandon it*' aspect.) I also like that its a hobby I can pick up a lot and keep adding too it, compared to like drawing where there's a point when you feel like you gotta stop, or in water color, a point to where the paper is like 'no more water please!' 'Oi! I don't think you heard me, anymore water and i'm about to no longer be paper!' xD Sorry I started rambling. I'd say if your nervous, just try it, you can find really easy (small) freebies online, DMC, kofi, there's designers who will offer out freebies for different holidays. (Shannon Christines does really nice easy looking freebies for holidays. Just the pattern, you have to get the supplies yourself.) Viewing stuff as an experience or journey has helped me a lot more, rather then tips like: trying to ignore my feelings/attempt to push thru them. Cause it can affirm your fears or hesitant if you do "mess" up or you are unhappy with how you finished. If I can pick and pull apart aspects I like even if my first project wasn't the "best", and that leaves me feeling satisfied or even better it helps me create a goal, or drives my interest to keep trying. I like that a lot more. :3

#scribbles

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juliastartoons · 2 years ago

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Haven’t had a lot of time to draw lately, so I went to the classic well of Remisa.

(2023 VS. 2020)

#my art #death note #redraw #remisa #rem dn #misa amane #misa misa #I made the arrows red this time to symbolize Light in contrast to the original that almost made it look like it was Rem's undoing?#Especially considering now Misa is properly swooning #but it looks like she's collapsing as well #art notes idk #also Rem's hair is actually white now? I don't know why it wasn't before #I think the coloring took longer than the actual drawing lol

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theraedar · 4 years ago

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Almost every time i do a full piece i compare it to a similar piece I’ve done within the past year to see how much I’ve improved....the right is my best effort back in may 2020 and left is my best effort Now

Backgrounds were ALWAYS a challenge for me (and still are) but I’ve been doing more of them in the past year lol

#rae talks #i rly like skies but for some reason clouds are Hard LOL #AND UGH OCEANS/WATER.....#the burden of stanning octavinelle.......#i think my colors are more cohesive now ig #and im Marginally better at shading clothes but i still dont know how to do it properly LOL #not Much better at clothes/material in general rip #but at least the way i drew faces is more consistent now i think #still dont know how to shade hair HAHA my way is so so simple #can you believe this one actually took me longer to draw than twst squad halloween pic #its the ocean

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cupcakeslushie · 3 years ago

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You seem to draw Donnie covered in Spray paint (pink and blue) a lot. Why is that? What got him hooked to it and why doesnt he have to mix the colors himself?

(BIG fan of the angsty separated au!!!!)

Draxum’s lab is pretty dull color wise, and Three wanted to differentiate his tech from Draxum’s. Huginn and Muninn are the ones who buy Three his spray paints! One of those small, nice things they try to do to make the kid a little bit happy. Purple is Three’s favorite color, but sometimes they’re limited in what they can bring him. (Also the pink and blue colors are a nod to Jinx—It’s kinda funny that her colors, pink and blue, when mixed, make purple)

It would be maximum shock if they all met right when Leo and Donnie rejoined the family, before they kinda started their healing process, cause they’re probably the most different at that point.

Rise!Donnie would be appalled at AU!Donnie, from silly things like the way he accumulates layers of grime without a care—to the rude way he treats April. AU!Leo and Rise!Leo would keep a wide birth from each other and probably stick to a buddy system with their respective brothers just in the hopes that they don’t ever get left alone with the other (their bros of course conspire to do exactly that, so they can get to know each other)

Rise!Raph would probably be really worried about AU!Raph just cause he thought his brother’s make him stressed and tired? But between dealing with Leo’s anger issues, and Donnie’s…everything, AU!Raph looks ready to drop any second. AU!Mikey would love Rise!Mikey, cause he’s adorable, but he’s a little sad when he looks at him, cause he acts just like he used to, before he was thrown into the arena, so he tries to tone down the bad and make it sound more exciting so that Rise!Mikey doesn’t know how horrible AU!Mikey had it.

The Kraang would def be the Rise Kraang version. The movie would take place a little while after the defeat the Shredder. I’m still working out the timeline cause when I was first deciding their ages, I forgot about the two years from the end of the series and the start of the movie 🙄. So I’m doing some reworking on that end. I think I’ll either change them to be a few years older at the start of the AU than I made them, OR the AU and the fight with Shredder will go for a longer stretch of time than it did in the series. That way there’s not a huge two year gap of unknown time between Shredder’s defeat to the start of the movie. EDIT Now that we know the series took place over two years and it was only a couple months between the finale and the movie. Their ages are gonna be the ones listed on their character charts!!

I’m still not even sure if I’ll manage to make it that far, but hopefully we will get there eventually! Cause I really wanna get to Casey. In fact, I’d probably make it less about Leo growing into a more serious role (cause obviously he’s already there), and more about him really accepting the love of his family. We might even see a future Leo come back with Casey?? It would be so hard not to go that route cause I love that idea so much 🤣

But I honestly don’t know yet what I’d really like to do. And I’d hate to give an answer that I’d have to redact later. I’ve got a lot of ideas, but I can’t even think about them, until I put out all the other stuff I’ve got planned. So let’s all cross our fingers and hope we get there some day lol!

2012!Leo would go MOM MODE™️ EXTREME, 2012!Raph and Don would take off like a rocket with the intention of hunting down and murdering Draxum, Shredder and Big Mama, and Mikey would probably be caught between holding back tears and doing his best to tell jokes and ease the tension, or following after his brothers in their murder spree.

Basically as much as the 2012 boys would be thrown off at first over how different the AU boys are from the other versions of themselves they’ve met, they’d go HARD as the protective older bros. But the only one who’d probably actually appreciate it would be AU!Raph cause he never gets to be the little brother lol.

@smoldevelopingcookie @c00k13san2 @luvrbug @organisedchaosstuff @uniqueness351217

Separated AU tag

#ask slushie #separated au #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt separated au #rise of the tmnt #my art #sep!au life #sep!au crossover

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uncouth-the-fifth · 4 years ago

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imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

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