#I'm so sorry if any of this looks off I Struggled so bad drawing this for some reason lol

[fitzselfships]

Had this saved in my drafts for when my Zooble animini got delivered. Get so small (and kissed <3)

Proshippers/adjacent dni. 100000 shark attack 🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈🦈 also Zooble self ship doubles dni

[lemon-lime-behavior]

Do you have any tips for drawing noses? Sorry this is out of nowhere but I'm wanting to improve on my art, specifically the faces, and it's always the nose I find myself struggling most with.

I really struggle w making it fit the face if that makes sense? Every time I try to add it it just throws the whole face off, especially the eyes, not to mention how to make different nose types and the angles </33

I love your art style so bad, it's so smooth and satisfying to look at and the way you draw noses like it's nbd (and anatomy in general like damn) baffles me so I was just wondering if you maybe had any tricks or not, Ty either way for sharing your art in the first place <33

@extravagav Well I can try! First off thank you very much, I often feel like I still have a very long way to go in regards to proportions and anatomy so I really appreciate your kind words <3

Hokay, so, noses. I do love noses. To start off when it comes to drawing noses I'm afraid I'm going to have to give you the most annoying advice in the world which is just to practice a lot. Find a lot of pictures of noses in a bunch of different shapes from a bunch of different angles and just draw them until your brain melts out of your ears. Pay particular attention though to the nose as a 3D object!

It's of course trickier to do than I'm making it out to be but the more you practice at imagining the nose as a 3d physical form the easier it becomes to make a nose model in your mind that you can rotate like a microwave.

This is my personal very very basic understanding of the nose's construction:

it's like three circles and a taco shell.

Okay so now that you've got a basic understanding of the nose's construction, how to put it in the middle of the god-dang face??

So the funky thing about noses is that they tend to change shape the least out of all our facial features when we're making expressions. Our eyes change shape, our mouths move, our eyebrows, our cheeks, our jaws, they all go all over the place. the nose, however, tends to be pretty stationary and doesn't deform much (save in one important way I'll get to later). So because of all this, and here's my biggest piece of advice when it comes to making the nose fit in the face, I like to draw the nose first! I do a very loose head construction, draw the nose, and then sort of "hang" the rest of the features off of it:

Two very different expressions, same nose!

Now when it comes to noses interacting specifically with the eyes the greatest thing to remember is that the part of the nose that sits between the eyes sticks out farther than you might think, and will likely be obscuring one of them, the extent of which depending a lot on the angle and how pronounced the nose bridge is.

for someone with a pretty flat nose bridge you'll be able to see most of the eye except in a more extreme angle, while someone with a protruding ridge might obscure the eye entirely. but the nose will likely be interacting with at least one eye if we're not facing the character head on. Really making your brain think in 3d is gonna most helpful here.

Finally! The nose being expressive! So the main way the nose plays in to expression is by wrinkling. the muscles that pull up your top lip and the muscles that pull down the middle of your forehead are almost all connected to the nose, so the nose tends to develop a lot of wrinkles whenever brows are furrowed or teeth are bared.

Adding those wrinkles can add a lot of impact in the expression! And not just angry ones neither:

Sooooooooooooooo yeah! noses! They're weird and they come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and they can do a lot to add character to a face and they can also make you want to tear your hair out in big clumps! I'm still learning myself when it comes to noses (and most other things) and I'm faaaar from a master at it, but I hope I've been able to provide at least a little bit of help. If you do use my advice going forward please let me know! Good luck!!!!! (And here's all my nose "headcanons" for the strawhats. The ones who actually have human noses, anyway):

[fraugwinska]

I'm dying to see you write Alastor opening up to Reader about his mom, maybe a little angst and lots of fluff? (- v -)''

WE NEED THAT MOMMAS BOY GETTING SOME COMFORT!

Finally Anon, I found the strengh to write this. Sorry it took so long - I hope it was worth the wait! Next story will be less sad, I promise! :'< But I think we can all find some love for our Mommas Boy today, right? (Prepare your handkerchiefs, fellas...)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Mother O'Mine

Not the kitchen. Not the lobby. Not the bar. Not the radio tower. Not his room.

You sighed and stilled for a moment, thinking of a place where he could've gone.

If Angel had just shut his damn mouth. Mother's day was a shit day for everyone in the hotel. You, who never knew a mother, raising yourself in the farce that had been the foster care system, rued the day. Charlie was still in denial about her mothers blatant absence and ignorance, Husk melancholic and tense at the memory of seeing his mother being exterminated shortly after reuniting with her in hell, and Vaggie bitterly wanted to ignore the holiday all together, feeling as though she would be betraying the mother she could no longer reach in heaven as a fallen angel.

Angel had been pissing them all off by breakfast, obnoxiously mocking their various reasons of why this day felt even heavier than others in hell. You knew it was his own way of coping with his mommy issues - something he didn't even talk about with Husk, as far as you knew, but he bordered on being not only menacing, but outright cruel.

Alastor had listened to his rambling stoically, flipping eggs while drinking his coffee with not much more than an annoyed twitch in his brow, but then the spider made the gruesome mistake to mention her.

Alastor's mom.

"What, 'ya think any of 'ya mothers could even look at 'ya without punchin' themselves? Come on, look me in the eyes and tell me Bambi's mommy wouldn't be fuckin' disappointed by what her little fawn has become... Can ya really see a sweet southern lady all happy, lovin', and coddling ol' murder-clown Alas..."

The green explosion came faster than you could blink. You were frozen in place, only staring in fear and worry when Angel landed unceremoniously into the table with the rest of the breakfast, the other residents as shocked and dazed as you were, while the radio static and greenish-black shadows seeped away from Alastor who then swiftly made his way out without a word, holding his staff while his tendrils bristled dangerously.

Alastor had vanished and the only thought coming to your mind - after giving a cursing, groaning Angel a righteous 'You fucking deserved that'-speech - was that you needed to find him before the princess did to make sure the demon had calmed enough not to finally lose it and maul her to pieces. Charlie meant well, but she didn't know. No one did know, except for you, and even you only knew so much.

It's not like it had been an elaborate talk. It just happened, after a nightmare that made him tear up in a mixture of rage and sorrow, a bad memory that had made his shadow basically drag you, half asleep still, from your bed to his in the middle of the night. Why you? You weren't so sure. Alastor usually preferred your company more than the others just because you were the most neutral, sane person in the hotel. Some would even say impassive. An introvert who didn't draw attention, silent and observing. But not once had his shadow ever acted up around you, and while it wasn't overly friendly with anyone, it seemed to watch mostly you with curious glances and interested hisses. When you had finally woken up enough to comprehend your situation, you were sprawled across Alastors stomach with his arms wound so tightly around you you struggled to breathe, strained mumbled words pressed through gritted teeth into your nightgown.

"Mother... I'm sorry... Oh mother..."

He had been sobbing into your shoulders and and shaking against your chest while he let go of a strange anger and grief he never seemed to get rid of while you had, confused but worried, whispered words of comfort in a hushed, soothing voice until you both dozed back to sleep. Morning broke, and when you opened your eyes again, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, not able to look you in the eyes. He had thanked you, gruffly and with an unsteady voice that made your heart ache, before offering his hand to teleport you back to your room. As far as you were concerned, the weirdest of it was that you felt him caress the palm of your hand with his thumb, barely audible as he mumbled that "that should have never have happened, and we shall never speak of it again." - he was usually a gentleman, and he never touched you this intimately before - but, to him, it was obviously a humiliating and horrible thing that you had witnessed him like that.

And you didn't speak of it. No one knew, and you intended to keep it that way. It was a moment you shared and fragile trust was on the table. You would take it to your second grave, along with all those feelings that had come with it, to prevent it from breaking.

Back to the present, you sighed and massaged the bridge of your nose. You had checked all the obvious places that crossed your mind, so maybe, you should start to look at the not-so-obvious ones... Maybe some place you knew was connected to... His mom...

A sudden pang hit you as you got an idea of where he might be hiding.

"Is this seat taken?"

The roof of the hotel was usually restricted from access, due to the general instability and collapse-prone architecture it presented, but you and (after an admittedly awkward encounter on a hot day that had involved you in a two-pieced swimsuit sunbathing and a very flustered Alastor with a book in one and a severed hand on a plate in the other hand) the radio demon knew about a small nook between the roof's overhead window frames and the hotel's ventilation system, hidden by the growing shadow of the radio tower where no one else ever came looking. A hideout, a place to go when you wanted undisturbed solitude. You had quickly left the place, apologizing for intruding a space that Alastor had apparently already claimed for himself (explaining the existence of the lounge chair you've so rudely used), but soon enough he discreetly invited you back, second chair added, to sit in silence together every once in a while, as long as you swore secrecy. It became a place of comfort for both of you, a retreat when life in the hotel got too stressful.

Alastor's reaction to seeing you was a quickly stifled hum before going back to staring stubbornly at the horizon. He looked dejected, and if you would not have known him so well, you wouldn't have noticed the trembling twitch of his ears nor the way his claw tapped impatiently against his knee, his shadow balled in on itself while hovering at the edge of the small roof.

It looked like he was staring straight through the distant buildings of the pentagram to the faintly illuminated orb that was heaven next to hells own sun, while also refusing to acknowledge you or the world around him at all. His smile had slipped into an emotionless line of pursed lips.

"That depends" he mused quietly. "Are you here to make me return to that insolent arachnid and attempt a 'healing' conversation?"

"I think you know I know that I couldn't even if i wanted to." You tried a weak smile.

Alastor briefly met your eyes at that, giving away that, despite his aloof act, your comment got his attention and he considered it before turning back to the horizon, the tense posture relaxing somewhat. A brief silence passed until he hummed an affirmative noise. "Then you may sit, darling."

After sitting down, minutes passed without a word said. The distant roar of the bustling traffic carried the muffled sounds of hell with the usual maelstrom of catcalling, profanities and general noises of mayhem to you, while you fought to keep a certain twitch in your hands as you counted the beats of his heels clicking on the tiles.

"You must know... my mother was a rare light in a world of filth." he declared suddenly into the silence. "An honest, virtuous soul of beauty and strength." He said it slowly and, surprisingly, completely unamused, the clacking of his shoes ceasing at once. He stared at the city in contempt, hands clasped together and resting on his legs to hold back a tremble that you caught anyway.

"She, unlike me, had not a spec of corruption in her bones. Wherever she found the warmth and love she shared with me, I cannot fathom. But she did. I may have been mocked and shunned by the world, the bastard child of a black woman and a white man, but I always had her as my home to return to.” The knuckles on his hands turned white. “But the cruelty of life and the disgusting human that was my father, the unbearable excuse of a man, killed her before I was grown enough to help. Before I was old enough to kill that monster myself." He spat the words, claws digging deeper until a faint trickle of blood could be seen. "I remedied that circumstance, twice to be exact, although it couldn't make up for what was lost. Nothing I did to him could make up for it..." his smile widened bitterly as his face twitched, recalling a fond, yet regretful memory. "… and believe me, I tried. But it was cathartic nonetheless, and quite educational... for my further career."

You stayed quiet and studied his profile, patiently waiting for him to continue talking. It was painfully obvious how hard it was for him to speak about actual feelings, with his tense grin and his white knuckles dripping with crimson blood.

"I knew, of course, where I would end up after my demise, and that I would never be able to see her again. Because I was sure she'd end up in heaven, like the saint she was. Is." He cleared his throat, attempting to appear dismissive, but you saw it. The sadness, the longing, the resignation, and it shattered your heart.

"Alastor...", you knew he hated physical touch, but your hand reached out on its own, to stop his hands from ripping themselves apart. He stiffened at the contact, but said nothing.

"Don't tell me you took what Angel said to heart..."

"How could my mother love me after what I've become after her death?"

His tone was monotonous, but his hands trembled under your fingers. He refused to look at you, but you saw his eyes, glazed with wetness that threatened to turn into actual tears. How he could still smile was beyond you, you had your theories on that, but that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was hurting, and that fact broke your heart. You never knew motherly love, how could you really miss something you never really knew? But Alastor did, and it had been ripped from him in the must cruel way, the impact of it so hard it made him even question the very foundation it was built upon.

You moved your hand from his to cup his cheek and turn his face to yours. His expression was blank, and if it weren't for the tight grin and the eyes filled with an unspeakable anguish, it would have been an emotionless stare.

"Alastor, do you know the poem Mother O'Mine?"

"I'm afraid the memory of it fails me, darling."

"Then, I'll recite it for you."

"Why?"

You gave him a sad smile.

"Because I want to."

He eyed you with stunned curiosity as you reached into your pocket, glad for once for your mostly useless power. You've only told Husk about it, in one of your late nights where everyone else was asleep aside him and your insomnia got the better of you, drunk and as a bargaining chip for one last gin tonic.

The blank piece of paper was a bit crumpled, but it would do. You started to fold it while you spoke, your voice sounded soft and almost like a spell.

"If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

Your fingers moved with a solemn purpose as you folded the paper this way and that, a skill you perfected out of boredom over the years, the edges turning into an elegant shape, the poem coming from your mouth like a song. Alastor watched your hands move in a trance, not sure what you were doing, but too focused on the faint glow of purple around them to ask.

"If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!"

There in your hand, sat a little origami bird. It wasn't anything special, maybe a traditional crane would have been better, more elegant, but you were out of practice and for what you intended to do it would work either way. Carefully you reached out, silently demanding for one of Alastor's hands that were still digging into each other. He didn't protest, and slowly raised it to give his hand to you. The tips of his claws were covered in a thin, fresh layer of his own blood, and his skin was warm and slightly clammy. You put the little paper bird on his palm, a speck of his blood staining the bottom of the pristine white paper, and closed his fingers around it, holding it in both of yours.

"If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine."

His enclosed hand in your own was encased in purple light, with wide eyes he followed the soft tugs of your fingers and opened his hand. The little paper bird flapped it's wings on his flat palm, looking at him for a heartbeat before taking off and flew in a singular circle around his head before it headed into hells deep red sky, towards the bright heavenly sphere. You watched it until it vanished completely from view, hoping there was a possibility that maybe, with a bit of luck, it would find it's way to her.

"This, Alastor, is what a real mother is. She loves you, I'm sure of it. Always has and always will."

Tears fell silently on his lap, a strangled, coarse breath escaping him. Without warning, he pulled you from your chair into him, holding you pressed close to him. Just like in the night of his nightmare, his face was buried in your chest, arms wound tightly around you in a hurting embrace and shoulders trembling with suppressed grief. His grip was bordering on painful, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying one of your hands in his hair, stroking gently while you let him quietly cry into your shoulder, not caring that the wetness of his tears was soaking through the fabric of your shirt. You felt his heart beating rapidly, his pulse erratic and his breathing fast.

"I miss her. Oh, how I miss her."

You held him tighter.

"I know, Al... I know."

You didn't know how long you two stayed like this, him in your arms and crying silently while you tried your best to comfort him, but you didn't care. As far as you were concerned, you would stay here forever if it only meant to lift this weight for a little while from his shoulders.

It took him some time, but eventually his breathing evened out, and he calmed down, his hold becoming less desperate and more... affectionate. You didn't realize it at first, but he had moved, his head resting under your chin and his forehead leaning against the hollow of your throat, his antlers slightly poking the thin skin. It felt strangely intimate, and you wondered if he was aware of what he was doing, but the moment he moved to get up and leave, you knew the spell was broken. He didn't let go of you entirely, but instead helped you to stand up and held your hand, his gaze firmly planted to the ground, avoiding your eyes.

"Darling, I..."

"Don't worry, Alastor. Although I'm glad I was able to be here when it happened... we shall never speak of this again."

You could feel his hesitation, a strange nervousness radiating from him. His shadow hovered next to him, a hand reaching out towards your face. You smiled at it, and, just for a brief moment, allowed yourself to lean into it's warm, buzzing touch as it caressed your cheek, before you turned and made your way back inside without a glance back to the sudden sound of a longing hum.

[nonranghaes]

heads up: this is longer than what i usually post here. oops.

this... is not how the story is supposed to go. your head is pounding when you wake up, body slumped slightly forward save for the way you've been bound to the chair you were thrown into. you blink a few times, brows drawing together as you lift your head. when did you get here...? one minute you were escaping up into this tower, the next...

fuck. where's your satchel? you gasp, immediately trying to pull one of your arms free. what the hell is this--hair? "shit. shit, shit, shit--"

"struggling..." a voice calls out, faltering just a bit, and you freeze. "struggling is pointless."

... fuck, what did you get into this time? the kingdom's already after your head and, with your luck, they're probably on their way to haul you off into a cell for the rest of your life. you can hear the sound of someone climbing down, and can make out the frame of that same person standing in the shadows.

"i'm not afraid of you. so... who are you?" he speaks again, slowly making his way forward. "and how did you find me?"

... huh? "sorry?" you furrow your brows. "i don't--"

"i said--" he steps into the light, and you're met with the pretty face of a young man... and the owner of the hair you're currently, literally, in. "who are you," he grips an iron pan in one hand like a weapon, and he looks like he could kill if he had to (then again, you think most people are like that when they see you nowadays), "and how did you find me?"

for a moment, you think you've seen his face before. a passing moment, nothing serious, but the feeling fades all too quickly. "look, buddy--"

"jeonghan." he spits his name at you, but there's a playfulness in his eyes as he makes his way over to you, lightly poking you with the pan. "you're the one tied up right now. you should respect me, hm?"

"look, jeonghan," you say, "i don't know who you are. i don't even want to be here. i just want to leave you alone, alright?" you tug again at the restrains. since when was hair this strong...? "you let me go, give me my bag, and i'll get out of your hair."

he crosses his arms, sizing you up. "i don't think so."

shutting your eyes, you try to gather some sort of patience. you don't have time for this. that fucking horse is probably sniffing you out right now. "i mean it! thought this place was abandoned, and, uh," you put on the most charming smile you can as you look at him, "didn't expect a handsome fella like you to be here--my bad, truly--but i've got places to be that aren't here."

that playfulness disappears in his eyes as he studies you. "... you really don't want my hair, then?"

"with all due respect, why the fuck would i want your hair?"

jeonghan eyes you suspiciously, and makes his way over to a different wall behind you. "no reason. how about we make a deal?"

you can hear the sound of him climbing behind you, and then the harsh tug of his impossibly long hair sends your chair spinning until you've hit the floor with a grunt. with a little struggling, you manage to peer up to where he's pulling back a curtain, revealing a mural of the lantern festival the kingdom does every year for the lost prince.

he nodes toward it. "you know what these are?"

"who doesn't?" you push as hard as you can just to get your weight off of your face and neck, and manage to get the chair sideways. "floating lantern thing. king and queen do it every year. think it's tomorrow." you pause for a moment. "... was that the deal? i answer your question and you let me go?"

his brows lift, and he's genuinely delighted with your initial response. he rushes down to you, already pushing your chair up so that he can be face to face with you. "the deal is," he presses the end of the pan against your chest, "you take me to go see those things and bring me back home... and then i'll give you your satchel back."

"... uh. no." you eye him suspiciously. does this guy... not have any idea who you are? waltzing back into the kingdom now would be a death sentence for you, especially with your name on one third of the wanted posters out there. "just go by yourself."

jeonghan's smile falls, and he crosses his arms. "so you don't want your bag? you'll never find it without me." he strolls away from you, looking out the nearby window. "it might not even be here next time you wake up..."

shit. he's too serious to not mean it. you've risked everything to steal that crown, including trusting two idiots that are probably also planning your death right about now. "that's it?" you turn your face as best as you can see him. "lights show and then home. that's all you want?"

he smiles at you. "is there something i should add?"

fine. if pretty man wants a road trip... then you can give him a road trip. "then it's a deal."

another tug of his hair sends your chair spinning around. to your surprise, you don't hit the floor: jeonghan's hand catches the back of it as he grins at you. "it's a pleasure doing business with you, then."

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[koolades-world]

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!!!!

[sabertoothwalrus]

OK PREFACING WITH IM SORRY IF I ALREADY SENT THIS EXACT ASK BUT MY WIFI KILLED ITSSLF AS I SENT IT SO IDK IF IT ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH. but in case it didn’t . i know youve gotten this countless times in the past because i blog stalked just in case youve mentioned something similar before but i need to know if you have any specific inspirations when you draw exaggerated expressions specifically like these two images of marcille. ive actually cried laughing over this comic and being able to communicate this type of visceral emotion is such an insane skill and ive followed your art for probably close to a decade through various fandoms so watching you develop this style has been fucking awesome and epic. like i cannot articulate how funny these are to me i just need you to understand i look at this comic to inspire me to draw now. the closest comparison i can draw to the feelings they evoke are like those mspaint reaction images and also mspaint tails i included for reference even though you probably know exactly what im talking about anyways but its actually so much harder to do that intentionally when you study art. also i lied you literally don’t even need to answer this i just had to let you know how obsessed i am over your silly comics and now ive written out a whole ass discussion post about it. im sorry if this is weird at all i think my daily prescribed amphetamines r wearing off and i know this is such a dumb specific thing to fixate on and im so sorry if its not something you want to hear about your art. ive just always seen that as an artist this type of expressive stupid silly style is something that comes after a significant amount of time and practice and study and style development despite being “simple” in theory. its just so cool to have worked with your own style so much that youre able to go “off model” from it and still maintain consistency with the rest of the piece. i said it already and im sorry this is actually rendundant now but the ability to communicate such raw emotion somehow decreases from at its height when someone is a beginner artist learning how to proportion and keep a steady line and what looks “normal” but somehow it all comes full circle because taking all that experience and using it to almost return to where you started but in a fully informed and intentional way so you can make choices to draw characters like this when the situation calls for it is just dhcidogakgoshfhw. i think i need to cut myself off or im going to talk in circles im sorry tumblr user sabertoothwalrus i just am fascinated by your style and progress and the years you’ve dedicated to art can be seen in so many places but this is just one that stands out to me specifically.

MMMMM what a fun question!!!

I'm not gonna lie, I think it's just Letting A Drawing Be Bad. I definitely think the people that struggle with this the most are people who have genuinely very pretty art styles, to the point of being kind of perfectionist about it. and to Draw Funny often means Drawing Fast and Weird. Pretty is kind of the antithesis of funny (unless being pretty is the punchline). do drawings that make yourself laugh. tracing/lining funny sketches almost always makes them less funny.

one of my favorite types of humor is when it skews more deadpan, actually. This is one of the reasons I love Adventure Time. minimal expressions and flat line delivery + absurd context is a really good combo. the key to comedy has more to do with contrast! if your drawings are allllll crazy ren & stimpy all the time, they're not funny anymore cause it's just "normal". if it's all subdued UNTIL it's extreme, and vice versa, then it's funny. The reason this comic is so funny is because of the complete lack of any expression. I feel like the one you sent of Marcille shouting "WHAT" is funnier when you know how much she tries to be dainty and feminine and delicate, how much she values her appearance, and how averse she is to "gross" or "weird" things.

something I find really annoying (and this is with comics/animation in general, not the expressions themselves) is when the joke goes on for too long. Like you'll have the joke, then the punchline, and THEN the characters reacting to the punchline??? Like the author didn't trust that their audience would find the joke funny, so they basically drew in a laugh track. But, this is distinct from a character's reaction being the punchline (like how the examples you gave from my Marcille comic are). MY POINT IS sometimes expressions aren't as funny on their own as you think, and context can affect how you feel about it!

as far as inspirations go!

my own face! even if I don't have a mirror, I like making the expressions myself so I can "feel" where the points of tension on my face are, and it gives me a sense of what to exaggerate.

my brother's art, believe it or not! we've been trying to make each other laugh with our drawings since we were kids, and he's really good at it.

ATLA has some great expressions

OK KO has been a reallyyyy good source for me lately. That show is so tailored to my sense of humor and the expressions and line deliveries feel exactly like the kinds of things I'd come up with. The tone, timing, and art style are all really close to the tv show pitch I'm working on, so when I feel like I've "strayed" too much from it (like after drawing a bunch of dungeon meshi, and my art feels tighter and... idk "manga-ier"?) I like to go and watch a couple episodes of OK KO to loosen back up

A lot of things like OG Spongebob, Calvin & Hobbes, the Simpsons, Chowder, etc etc

memes in general. if it makes you laugh, keep it in mind

and lastly, I wouldn't say I ever try to mimic funny expressions I see. Like if I watch a show for inspo, I'm not pausing it to copy specific drawings, I'm just trying to notice patterns and pay attention to what about it I find funny.

talking about being funny is really bizarre and I dunno if it makes it lose some of the magic. Ultimately it's something you can't think about too much, and just gotta go with your gut.

[multiwreckedmess]

[10:45pm]

i'm sorry i keep thinking about cheater!yunho-verse. WC: 1.3k

related stories: kinktober | [12:39AM] you might wanna read if you want to experience this relationship get more and more fucked up.

Standard disclaimer, this is meant for 18+ and my blog is 18+ please do not interact if you are not 18+ because I AM OLD. You don't WANT to interact with me just as much as I don't want to interact with YOU.

This fanfic is, as the genre defines it, FICTIONAL. It is in no way a representation of Yunho or any Ateez member.

TW/CW: Fem!reader. Cheating. If you aren't down with a fictional cheating fic, just back out now. Also it is consented but not really? Extended below the cut.

Extended TW/CW: mean yunho, possessive yunho, yunho gets slapped, rough sex, big dick yunho, quickie, cumming inside, everyone is toxic and i feel bad for the boyfriend.

"We've got to stop meeting like this." Yunho's voice teases from behind you.

Bent over, ass out as you're halfway into the large freezer in the garage, you kick backward half hoping to land some sort of damage on him. A miss. "Stop being such a creep."

"Maybe if you didn't like it so much I would." His hands roam your ass, pressing his cock into the yielding flesh.

It's disgusting how right he is. Your walls already slicking at the slight suggestion of welcoming him again. It doesn't help that as you try to slam the lid of the freezer shut you wedge yourself tighter to his crotch, rubbing hard against his quickly growing cock. It was meant to be a "get away from me" loud bang, as if he was a bear to be frightened away with noise but the cushioned hinges soften it to a comically wheezed thud.

"Doesn't help that your ass looks so good in all these tiny little skirts you've been wearing. It's like you're begging for a quicky."

"Not from you," you spin your back to the freezer, pinned between the man and the machine. Somehow this is worse, his knee wedge between your legs, chests pressed.

"Not me?" Yunho smirks as he leans over, lips ghosting over the column of your neck. "The oaf then? You really think he would?" His low chuckle rumbles against your sternum. His hands gently encourage the slow back and forth of your hips, flexing his thigh against your pussy. Lips finally touching your neck, he allows himself to fantasize for a second. His teeth drag over the front of your neck as your head tips back. Here he can feel the subvocalizations, your high whines that die before they reach the air.

"Yunho," you whisper a warning.

"What?" He ask as his thumb pushes the cup of your bra down through your shirt, hardened nipple peaking through the thin fabric.

"No marks."

He snorts a small chuckle of half relief, almost worried that today would be the day you'd say no to him. His fingers pinch your nipple through your shirt, relishing the the way you struggle to muffle your moan.

"Yunho," your hips work harder and faster. "Yunho, we could get caught-"

"You want me to fuck you or let you cum on my thigh?"

"Yunho," you whine again, pushing lightly on his chest.

He backs off just enough to unzip his pants and fish his hardened cock from its confines. Tip red and ready, leaking precum steadily as he lifts your leg to his hip. "You never were good at making decisions."

As much as you want your hands to snake over his shoulders for leverage, draw him closer like you used to when you were young and dumb, you lean back onto the top of the freezer. Using your elbows for leverage as he works his cock into your walls, it's difficult to contain your groans. "Hurts," you wince as he stretches you.

"Yeah well usually you let me prep you."

"Let you," you scoff, wincing again as he pushes deeper.

"I'll let you pretend like your cunt isn't fucking begging for me," he grabs your shoulders and pulls you in as his hips slam forward into you. His hand presses the back of your head to him to muffle your yelp at the sudden forceful intrusion. You tremble in his arms, walls clenching around him as they try to accomodate all of him at once, punching him in the back for good measure.

"You're such an asshole!" Your cry dampened by his shirt. Yunho's hips barely move, rocking almost microscopically back and forth to soothe your spasming cunt.

"Do you even fuck him anymore? Fuck- your so- fuck- god you feel incredible." His breathy confessions heat the soft skin of your ear. Each muted groan and grunt tickles as it brushes over you, his thrusts becoming more daring.

You've missed this, face buried in his chest as he fills you to the brim. Almost uncomfortably full, gluttonous as you take pleasure from a man who is not yours. His slow, steady pace ensures you can feel every ridge and pulse of his own enjoyment. Luxuriating in the moment as if the dingy location was as good as an invisibility cloak.

"Yunho, hurry-" the spring in your gut twists, core clamping around him again. Your try your best to scoot back against him, fucking yourself on his length to speed your climaxes.

Yunho grits his teeth, "mixed messages there princess-" he grunts. "Don't wanna hurt-"

The door creaks and both of you stop, startled. Holding your breath you try to bury your body completely in the shadow of his, hoping the single raw light bulb in the center of the ceiling isn't bright enough to fill the corner the freezer is in.

"Oh! Yun-hey man!"

Your fucking boyfriend. Oh your fucking boyfriend. Oh that fucking oaf. Internally you're screaming. Yunho gasps as you clench down like a vice, full of anxiety.

"Hey bro- I'm a little-" Yunho's voice is choked as he tries to shoo the other man.

"Yeah yeah, I'm just looking for the ol' ball and chain."

Yunho looks almost smug. "Yeah man, think she stepped out for something sweet. Saw her putting her jacket on."

You flare your eyes at him. A total lie. Not even some small excuse. A real lie. Silently you try to express your displeasure, pinching the skin between his chest and shoulder. His nose wrinkles but he takes the pain noiselessly, eyes rolling back as his mouth tightens. Gripping the small of your back he thrusts up, already tight to your body, tip jamming against your cervix and forcing a whimper from you.

"Oh! Dude, you got a chick with you! Should've said-"

"Yeah, I'm busy would you-"

"Yeah yeah, sure, right on man," you hear your boyfriend's voice in the hall as the door shuts. Really you should be thankful for hitching yourself to someone so painfully unobservant. Instead you're full of rage.

Adrenaline surging, you lean back and slap him clear across the face. "Do you want to get caught?"

Yunho seems amused. "So he doesn't know what you sound like?" He chuckles low in his register, looking down at where you're connected. His hand threads through the hair at the back of your head, grabbing a fistful and pulling it backwards. "Only one of us has an image to uphold. So no, I don't care." He pulls his hips back to slam them as deep as he can go. Pummeling your pussy as your torso arcs up and away.

It's almost impossible to keep yourself quiet as the sound of slick skin slapping fills the air. Your face tenses with the effort as thin whines and puffs manages to leak from you despite your effort.

"Yun-"

"Shut up," he says through gritted teeth. "It's my turn. You're mine." He yanks you tight to him again, hands finding purchase on the top of your ass. Lips colliding with yours his tongue finds its way into your all too willingly opened mouth. He tastes as desperate as the day you'd left him.

Panting into each other's mouths he takes advantage of the leverage to use you like a sex toy. Mercilessly chasing his own high with little regard to your needs. Yet your cunt works carnally, instinctively, welcoming him and pulling him deeper. Your minds fuzzes over as you make peace with your state, cumming around him as his movements become uncoordinated and sloppy, practically collapsing over you on the freezer as he stumbles. He releases tight to your cervix, the mixture of fluids seeping around the base of his cock.

Yunho collects himself alarmingly quickly. Pulling from you unceremoniously and tucking himself away. "Clean yourself up before you go in there, you're a fucking mess."

i'm so sorry idk why i do this to him and the y/n character

cheater!yunhoverse: [9:42PM] | kinktober | [12:39AM] | [10:45PM] if you liked this and wanna see this just get worse and worse....yeah there is the order.

a related ask as well here

[nocherrybombs]

That Good Ol' Natlan Hospitality

Mavuika: Am I really the first archon to attempt to properly welcome you to their nation?

Lumine: More or less. The Anemo Archon mostly wandered off doing his own thing, by which I mean he spent a lot of time singing, drinking and stealing stuff.

Paimon: Barbatos put in no effort at all, so Paimon gave him an ugly nickname.

Lumine: Right. And the Geo Archon... uh. Died, I guess. Honestly, it was very inconvenient for everyone involved.

Paimon: Morax sure runs his mouth a lot for a dead guy.

Lumine: Let's see, what else? ...oh yeah, the Raiden Shogun tried to kill us the first time we met. That wasn't especially nice of her.

Mavuika: I'm sorry, did you just say that Baal tried to kill you?! Why in the world would she do that?

Lumine: Apparently I was an "enemy of eternity" or something. Ei isn't all that good at thinking these things through before she pulls out her sword and starts shooting lightning at people.

Paimon: She's so scary! Paimon was lucky to get out of Inazuma alive.

Lumine: Sumeru was okay. Nahida was super chill and fun to hang out with. I'm sure she would have been more accommodating if she hadn't been locked up in baby jail.

Mavuika: I heard about that after the fact. I had no idea Buer was struggling so much. I would have tried to help if I had known.

Lumine: Don't blame yourself, the entire situation was fucked. The first time I met her was inside an endlessly recurring cyclic nightmare. But it's okay, we fixed the problem.

Paimon: Yeah, and by "fixed the problem" she means "beat up a bunch of Fatui"!

Mavuika: Sweet, rock on.

Lumine: That wasn't too bad, but then we got to Fontaine and the first thing Furina did was challenge us to a fight and try to get us arrested.

Mavuika: That sounds like Focalors.

Lumine: In Furina's defense, there's context. It's just that nobody knew about any of the context until way later, so it felt really unhinged at the time.

Mavuika: I can't even begin to imagine.

Lumine: That's about it. Up until now, you are the only archon to offer us anything even remotely close to a normal reception.

Mavuika: In that case, it's my pleasure to warmly welcome you to Natlan. I hope you will enjoy your time here, please sit back and relax... is what I would like to say, but one of my citizens has gotten herself trapped in the afterlife and it would be totally rad if you could help us rescue her.

Lumine, sighing and drawing her Dull Blade: Ugh, fine, it's not like I wasn't going to end up there looking for primogems and Pyroculi anyways. So, what's the fastest way to get to hell?

[littleplantfreak]

Say my name - Sakura Haruka

Normally I'm bad with titles but without further ado! A ficlet(?) about Sakura struggling to call his lovely partner by their first name! It's SFW (but still under the cut) btw

I tried to keep it they/them for neutrality but if you find a stray 'she' somewhere that's my bad

(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

“I really don’t know what to do with him Suo! Every time he tries to say it he just freezes and sputters until he calls me ‘you’ or he changes it to another word last minute. Last week he tried so hard he nearly turned purple and gave himself a headache!” whining, you practically drape yourself over the table in defeat.

“Wow…our captain really is shy when it comes to that stuff, huh?” Suo’s holding back but you can tell he wants to laugh. Once Sakura shows up he’ll throw a teasing remark or two in but you’ll still be at square one.

“Maybe a nickname? Or what if you don’t look at him when he says it? What if he spells it out-“

“I don’t think we need to go that far,” interjecting gently before Nirei could start going through an insane list of things that may or may not actually work for the present problem, Suo leans forward, looking at you from across the table. “There’s something we can try that might work if you're up for it."

——

It’s not a bad plan actually, if more simple than you thought it’d be. You’re waiting behind the support wall in the middle of Cafe Pothos, obscured from anyone just walking in. Nirei and Suo are at the same table near the front that you were at before, and Kotoha is cleaning dishes at the sink, though she knows what’s going on and has a ear turned towards the main stage of this event making sure she doesn’t miss a thing.

From where you’re peeking before Haruka opens the door, you can see Nirei’s tense shoulders, both trying and failing to appear casual not that your boyfriend will pay it any mind. Sometimes you're afraid he'll end up like Hiragi and his nervous stomach issues. Suo is the picture of tranquility as he eyes Nirei’s notebook before greeting Haruka. You hear your boyfriend stop, possibly looking around for where you said you’d be waiting for him earlier.

“Where’s-”

“A-ah…”

“Bathroom~,” Suo singsongs smoothing over his partner’s stuttering. “By the way, Nirei’s been wondering about their first name! It seems the notebook page he has on them is incomplete without it…” he’s drawing attention, not to the boy himself, but the pen and notebook he’s gripping on to waiting on Sakura to take the bait. Nirei had opted for silence as he clicks his pen and as if to write it down.

"It’s-" a short pause before he actual says the full weight of your name, matter of factly too, without fumbling it at all and you’re suddenly too giddy to contain yourself.

“S-Sorry I wasn’t listening. Could you say it again?” Nirei squeaks out.

There’s annoyance in his voice as Sakura says it again, and before he can get anything else out, you’ve decided this is your cue.

“Yes, Haruka?” You blink looking at him, poorly portraying innocence but you can tell blood is rushing to your face and you cannot rub your smile off if you tried.

“Oh my~ Sakura you’re so bold calling your partner by their first name!” Red eyes glittering wickedly as he taunts “How romantic!” He gasps with a hand over his mouth. Looking flustered but proud is Nirei, nodding vigorously, and Kotoha giving Sakura a pat on the back in congratulations. You’re proud of him yourself, despite having to coax your name out of him with the help of his vice captains.

He's wide-eyed going between you and Suo, gears clicking in to place that he'd been set up as he settles for firing at the brunette "Wha- you- I'm GONNA KNOCK YA-,"

"Oookay we're heading out now!" Before he starts a fight, you link an arm through his and begin leading him towards the door. He’s puffed up like an angry cat but his body completely yields when it’s you who’s maneuvering him away the cafe after saying a quick goodbye to everyone.

It's quiet, the path you take through town on the way to your house and he doesn't look at you when he mumbles a quiet apology. You aren't quite sure what he’s apologizing for but you stop walking and wait for him to start speaking again.

“Sorry fer takin’ so long to say it.” He’s still not looking at you but your heart breaks a little at how small he sounds. You touch his cheek enough for him to turn and look at you, uncertainty clear in his bi-colored eyes.

“Honey I never meant to rush you. If you’re still working on it that’s okay! I never wanna make you feel uncomfortable,” brows knit together in worry now that you’re holding his face in both hands, searching signs that you took it too far.

“I think I’ll be able to say it now - especially if it makes ya look as happy as ya did at the cafe. Not all the time, but when we're alone I think I can." He’s almost fully settled into your hands now, melting into warmth he’d been craving since he woke up this morning. He always wondered how such soft hands could touch something as rough as him and still continue to make the effort to hold him. You wait for him to finish soaking up his much needed affection for a few more minutes and then you're both walking again, slowed by the urge to stay close for as long as possible.

----

"...and she popped out from behind the pillar and said "Yes, Haruka?"" Kotoha mimics your voice as she's giving Umemiya the rundown of what he missed.

"He's growing up so fast!" He wails theatrically wiping a tear from his eye.

"He's changed a lot since he came here, and even more since they started dating. I think he's getting soft with how fast they were able to drag him away without a fight."

"So he went from alley cat to house cat huh. Nothing wrong with that." he grins digging into his omurice. Kotoha smiles and hums in agreement. Nothing wrong with that in the slightest.

[sillywolfsoup]

TW, CW: loss of pet. Death, depression.

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I'm sorry I haven't been drawing lately. I've been really depressed, I lost my best friend of 10 years.

This hurts so bad. I don't even know how to lay in my own bed without Milo being there. My bed feels weird because he had this specific spot he'd sleep in. I'm so sorry if I sound dramatic but i had him ever since he was 6 weeks old and i spent almost a whole decade of my life with him in it every single day. I just hope this stinging sadness will stop and I'm so scared it won't. I know it's normal to feel this way about a pet but this is painful. I didn't know my year would start off like this.

I've been struggling with something that maybe some of you have experienced too? Like the guilt that comes with trying to find moments of normalcy or relief from the sadness. That feeling that maybe I'm not honoring their memory if I try to distract myself or have a moment where I'm not actively grieving or whatever.

But I'm learning (or at least trying to learn) that taking breaks from grief isn't betrayal it's just survival. The hearts can only handle so much pain at once. Looking for small escapes doesn't mean I miss them any less or that our time together meant any less. It just means I'm human. Milo wouldn't want me to feel sad. He'd want me to be comfortable. Like how tried to make me feel when I was sad and when he was around. My pet brought so much joy to my life like maybe finding moments of peace is actually honoring that gift of happiness they always gave me. I love you milo. You were the best dog anyone could wish for.

[beffalumps]

hi there! recent art school grad here and i was wondering if u have any tips on learning color + approaching backgrounds? even though i learned a lot, i still find myself struggling with these focuses, especially colors as i never had a class that really taught me that. thanks so much 💗 your work is so lovely

First off, congrats on graduating!! Backgrounds and colors have always been the hardest for me lol tbh I still struggle a lot with colors especially, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt!

Using adjustment layers helps me a lot (especially color balance to make things more unified or complementary).

Another thing that I think has REALLY helped me with color overall is actually switching between color and grayscale.

In photoshop I set up a custom proof profile and then am able to switch back and forth by using the hotkey Ctrl + Y. This helps me check my values which, I've found if you have solid values, colors tend to work so much better even if you don't know much about what you're doing lol. Another way to do this is making a solid black layer on top of all your color layers and setting the blending mode to "Color". Then you can toggle that on and off to look at the values.

One last thing I've played with re: colors is finding a reference that has the colors I like and "crystalizing" it and color picking a palette from that.

This can be super helpful if you're having a hard time visualizing or coming up with a color palette!

As for backgrounds, they became a lot easier for me when I started looking at them like their own character. Thinking about the story I'm trying to tell, adding little details that I think would add to that or be fun and fun ways for the character to interact with it.

That and doing value sketches/just a bunch of really quick and sloppy experiments. 9 times out of 10, they don't work out, but sometimes they spark something that turns into something fun and workable!

This has gotten really long for someone that really just bs's their way through every piece, but I will say one thing that was a big game changer for me (in my personal opinion, who knows if other people think so lmao) and it's just incorporating aerial perspective. Making things a bit more blue tinted (or whatever the sky color is) and lighter as they recede into the background. Has made a huge difference for me when it comes to creating depth!

I really don't know if any of this is helpful because to be 100% honest, most of my illustrations are just product of trial and error lol. But practicing and making a lot of really bad scribbles have (I think) helped me the most, so yeah my biggest advice with anything is just look at lots of art, just draw and don't worry if it looks bad because tbh, it probably will at first. But you'll get better!

@tamberella Has a ton of amazing free resources and brushes, so if you haven't checked out their stuff, definitely do so!

@iniro also has some really nice tutorials on color (and other topics) available so I'd also recommend looking at those too!

But yeah, sorry for going on about my hair-brained process, I hope at least some of this was helpful!

[nihilnovisubsole]

hey, gang! miss me? no? too bad, because i miss you. i think about you all the time. i hope the year has treated you well. this is, what, the third, fourth year i've done a year-in-review post? have i done more than that? it's after midnight. i can't be bothered to check. i fear a lot of the mysteries of getting older, but i will say, i don't mind that it's easier to shrug certain things off. i look back on all the times i hid from some scary fandom discourse and go, "god, why did i care?" it helps to have other things going on.

on the other hand, i guess 2024 was the year of finding out what happens when you put everything into your day job and leave nothing for the weekend. it was a wild year at work, which i assume is normal as a game ramps up to ship. i gave a lot, which was good! i'd be lying if i said it didn't take a lot out of me. important people at trade shows have now seen things i wrote! i got to work with voice actors! good news: a lot of your faves are great people! i also made, like, no progress on any of my own projects except the picrew, which i still chip away at. yes, i still draw. more on that later.

one or two people in my coworkers-turned-friends circle have broached the subject of occupational burnout and whether i've reached it yet. as i said last year, i remember what voltage burnout felt like, and it took a much weirder, angrier journey to get me there. it's kind that they're looking out for me, though. i think it's something all creative people could stand to keep an eye on. a buddy of mine even gave a GDC talk about it. it's a shame GDC is so stingy with access to its talks. at least this article has a great summary if you're interested in learning more.

there were other things, though. my mother broke her hip in june, which forced me into a caregiver role that i'm not suited to. don't worry, she's fine now. i love her, so it was important to me, but it didn't leave a lot of time to sit and write for fun. i started what i thought would be a casual fanfic project, wildly over-scoped it, and made a ton of work for myself. i outlined an original story about a difficult, personal subject and a culture i'm descended from, but not really familiar with. there's a lot of pressure to do it right, is what i'm saying. i'm taking the only path i can think of, which is to bury myself in research. the trouble is, a lot of the literature about this time and place is also very challenging, so it burns a lot of brain calories. it's a far cry from what usually gets me to start a story, which is "i want these characters to sleep together. let's see where it goes."

in a different time, i would've taken this struggle as an omen that i wasn't the right person to write this story and abandoned it. it's critical that i don't take the coward's way out this time if i'm going to honor the question i asked at the end of last year. "what is my work saying?" my mother told me the same thing a few months ago: "i think you're a good writer, you just need to find good things to say." i take that to mean i have to write closer to real experiences, which means including the parts i don't like: disappointment, loss, mistakes, uncertainty. i had all of this year to figure out how, and the evidence shows i didn't. i don't know what to say. "oh well?" maybe you can't put a deadline on these things. in the meantime, hercule and aida deserve more stories (it's an hercule and aida story), and i want more people to know about them, and maybe i can say something real through them.

this was also the year that i reckoned with the other side of "all it takes is money to make problems go away." i was able to travel, i mean really travel, for the first time. all it took was being able to throw a chunk of my salary at it. i had some shipping drama [sorry, not the romantic kind] where i had no choice but to pony up a ton of customs fees. my arm PT didn't work, so i'll have to try a specialist who's out of my insurance network and pay full price to see them. this must be what they call "being a successful adult." i thought it'd look different. i wanted to live in the city and have a hot, mysterious boyfriend. well, i can still live closer to the city if i keep saving up for that house, and maybe some hot, mysterious guy will take pity on me someday. do you think they like 32-year-olds who play video games and have flat chests? i went all the way to paris and still didn't find out. damn! 🤌

nah, i'm kidding. i mean, i'm not, but i have other things to worry about. as i mentioned above, things with my arm have taken a curious turn. after six and a half years of assuming i had tendinitis, i found out, not only is it likely not that, i may not be injured at all. the particulars of this theory get out into the weeds of neuromuscular science, so i'll only bore you with them if you want me to. the point is, if any of it holds water, it would go a long way toward explaining why none of the typical rest/heat/stretching/strengthening protocols have worked. it's actually unfathomable how much effort i've put into solving this mystery just so i can get back to drawing fictional people kissing. you can call my creative work boring or predictable or whatever you want, but never say i haven't committed to the bit.

i don't tend to read my previous years-in-review. this year, i did, because i sensed i was grappling with a lot of the same things as last year. there's nothing i hate like being repetitive. not that you would know from the way i keep writing the same three character archetypes. humor me here. i was all set to keep whining until i reminded myself how 2023 had gone, and i thought, "geez. it wasn't that bad." nobody i love died, for a start. my health is better. i have some unread books sitting around. as terrible as 2023 was, i survived it. if you're reading this, you did too.

so here's what i'm going to do. i think you should do it with me, though whether i'm in any position to give advice is up to you. i'm not going to make any predictions about whether 2025 will be bad or good. i'm just going to see what happens. deal? all right. we'll check in next year. you'd better be there!

[dreamtydraw]

I'm done with all the doodle requests ! (took me a long time i'm sorry) Doodle requests are now officialy off but the ask box is still open for any asks / exchange. Thank you for everyone dropping something.

anywhoozie just adding to this post a lil bit of my personal feeling ( cause it's been a while- ) since this is an unwanted vent i'll do that under the cut and under the art

Oof being emotionaly vulnerable on the internet ? Awfull idea, anyway-

I recently been handling a lot personal matters on top of just being actively stressed by life in general cause i'm bad at not stressing. With all of that grew a weird feeling of distance : I'm not posting fandom stuff, I'm not drawing as much as I wish I could, so I feel less deserving to post things in general. Because of that I have a hard time, because my brain thinks i'm unwellcolmed most of the time. This is a very bad part of overthinking cycles I actively work on trying to calm with time but in the end I can't completely stop the fact that i'm a very socialy anxious person with issues that makes me believe everyone hates me even if not given any reason to think so.

So I want to be grateful. I'm grateful for everyone who did not forget me and people who still like what I do. Thank you for appreciating what I make and sometimes who am I as a person.

I'm sorry for how negative I am often and how late I am on my game or on my merch, I'm genuinely just struggling a lot ans trying to keep it all not under the water.

I'm grateful for my partner and for all the kind art I receive with time that I can go look back to. It's weird to constantly feel as bad as I feel grateful.

Anyway i'll try my best to not feel unwelcolmed, I already appreciate enough that you took the time to read all that.

Hope you'll have a better day than me, Period cramps are awfull as a type-

[bluegalaxygirl]

Hiiiii!! i’m so glad your back and i hope your doing well!!

I was thinking if you could maybe do a one shot/hcs about if zosan found their partner reading a spicy book???

Hope you have a great rest of your day!!

Thank you and that sounds like such a fun idea, i also thought id spice it up a bit so i hope you like. Also love the kitty with the Santa hat profile pic so cute.

Warning: Bad language, Sexual content but no smut and Making out

Reader is GN, Poly relationship, established relationship, Zoro X Sanji X Reader.

^ Your not a spicy book kinda person but you know who is? Sanji, even though he's in a relationship with two people he still has those magazines. The cook doesn't hide it from you and Zoro, you both know that he keeps them under the bed.

^ It some times bothers You and Zoro that he has those magazines but on the plus side the cook hasn't bought any new ones since he started dating the two of you. You know that since Sanji isn't shy about it, if you ask he will show you his collection.

^ Zoro never had an interest in that kind of thing, he always says how disgusting it is when ever he catches a glimpse of them or finds the cook looking at one. The swordsman does love to tease the cook about them though, making Sanji blush and babble much to your amusement.

^ So with all that said it was surprising to you when you found a hidden untitled book while cleaning your room that you share with the boys. Pulling out the bottom draw to put some clothes away something pink caught your eye on the floor right at the back.

^ It was a struggle to reach it, having to bend your arm over the back of the draw you pulled out to tease what ever it was forward and then having to reach under the chest of draws to pull it out completely.

^ The book was pink with a single rose on the cover, there was no title or description on it so you opened finally finding the title "Inferno Hearts", your first thought is that it's Sanji's and maybe he lost it but the book didn't have any dust on it.

^ You placed it on the side thinking you'll talk to Sanji later and see if it's his but as you were cleaning curiosity got the best of you so during your break you deiced to read some, it was deferentially romance but the content made you blush bright red.

^ You found yourself laughing, smiling and gasping at the content becoming enthralled with it, unable to put it down until you got to the spicy part. You froze but couldn't stop your eyes from reading the most intense and romantic seen you have ever seen or read, your hole face goes red just as the door opens.

---------- Story ----------

You were so enthralled by the book in your hands that you didn't hear the yelling from outside until the door to the bedroom flung open, you gasped from your spot on the bed as you looked up to see Zoro and Sanji yelling at each other, their shirts wet "Just say your sorry, it's not that hard" The cook growls undoing his stained tie while Zoro rolls his eyes shoving past the blonde to get into the room while taking his top off "You weren't watching where you were going" The swordsman growls throwing his shirt to the side before freezing in place looking at you on the bed with a bright red face holding a book in your hands. Sanji goes to yell back angry at Zoro for bumping into him when leaving the kitchen causing the try of drinks he was holding to cover both of them but stops when seeing the swordsman's wide eyes. Raising an eyebrow the cook looks over to you on the bed and gives you a smile, he couldn't help but blush at your cute flustered face "Hello my love, i'm sorry for disturbing you" Sanji takes a new shirt out of the draws starting to take his shirt off to put the other on. His words manage to snap you out of your frozen state and slam the book closed "Oh no, I'm sorry Sanji i should have asked before reading it" You try to laugh away your nerves as you move to sit on the edge of the bed, Sanji changes his shirt and throws on a new tie before walking over to you and looking over the book you hold out to him "My love you don't need my permission to read your book" He laughs a little while pushing it back to you.

Confusion strikes you while watching as Sanji does his tie, once he's done you hold the book out for him which he takes "It's not mine, i found it under the chest of draws while cleaning. I thought it might be yours" You state keeping your focus on Sanji as he flicks through the book but in the corner of your eye you see Zoro going into the draws and pulling out a shirt in quite the hurry "It's not mine, i'm more of a visual person than a reader of this sort of thing" Sanji laughs with a slight blush handing you the book back. Zoro rushes to leave the room while throwing his shirt on but is stopped by his name being called by you and Sanji. With a sigh the swordsman slowly turns around his face bright red while avoiding any kind of eye contact with the two of you "Zoro... Is this yours?" Sanji asks with a smile already knowing the answer by how the green haired man is acting, the flustered look, the rush to get away and the frozen state he was in as soon as he swore you reading the book told him everything. "N-No" Zoro rubs the back of his head while looking away from the two of you. A smile forms on your face as you stand up, the swordsman has never been the romantic type so you never thought he would read something like this. "It's ok Zo, it's actually really good" You state while walking over to the man with the book held to your chest, he still refused to look at you but somehow his face went redder "I mean it Zo, you don't have to hide things from us." You try and reassure him only to hear a snicker from Sanji behind you.

A quick look at the cook told him to shut up, Sanji jumps at your look before freezing in place and clenching his teeth, so he won't say anything. Looking back at Zoro his eye's shift to look down at you seeing a sweet smile and loving eyes "I know you don't want to be teased over it or for the others to find out so i won't do either and Sanji" You turn to glare back at the cook who looks down in shame "He won't tell anyone either but i know he will tease you over this" You sigh smiling back up at Zoro who relaxes at your words, Sanji nods as he walks over to stand next to you "Yea Zo, i won't tell the others but i will be teasing you over this, lets call it pay back for all the times you've teased me over my magazines" Sanji laughs while poking Zoro's side causing the swordsman to growl and grab the cooks tie pulling him closer "You two better not tell anyone" he growls as Sanji puts his hands up in defense and nods along with you. "As for the teasing, i can take what ever you throw at me" The swordsman gives a cocky smile while letting go of Sanji's tie, you hold the book out to Zoro, but he pushes it back to you "You can keep reading it since you seemed soooo into it" The swordsman leans down to be eye level with you causing your cheeks to go red "I mean it is good but... That scene" Your blush gets worse at just the thought, Zoro chuckles at you before pulling you into him by your waist "If it makes our Y/N blush then it must be super spicy.. Didn't know you were into that kinda thing Zo" Sanji starts to tease wrapping his arms around Zoro's free arm.

The swordsman tries to ignore him but when Sanji whispers something in the green haired man's ear the cook is shoved away "D-Don't say shit like that" Zoro's face goes bright red once again as he stutters stepping away from the cook and letting you go, Sanji smiles wide as he walks closer until the swordsman's back is up against the door, Zoro reaches for the handle to escape but Sanji grabs it first stopping the door from being opened "Oh come on Zoro. If you like the book so much, why don't we recreate it" Sanji teases making you blush but hold back at laugh at how flustered and panicked Zoro has become. "My love, why don't you read a part out to give me an idea of what to do" The cook gets close to Zoro's face who is almost frozen in shock and embarrassment unable to move as the blondes hand runs over his hip. You shake your head while walking over to the two, you wanted to save Zoro but then Sanji turns to look at you giving you a cheeky smile and a wink, you knew this was his payback and a good way to have some fun so you open the book. Deciding to go gentle on the swordsman you read out a kissing scene getting Zoro to stutter trying to tell you to shut up but you continued until that part was over. Sanji nods at you before brushing his lips against Zoro's "Your eyes are the light to my darkness, oh how i adore them" The cook whispers quoting the man from the scene as he presses his lips lightly onto Zoro who tries to push the cook away but can't seem to muster up the strength to do so. You blush at the two before putting the book to the side and walking over running your hand up Zoro's arm.

You can't let Sanji have all the fun plus the swordsman looks too cute all flustered. Leaning into the swordsman's neck you blow lightly in it causing the man to shiver while Sanji slips his tongue into the swordsman's mouth humming a little and letting his hand run up to Zoro's ribs. "I will always shine bright for you, so even in the darkest of night, you can find your way home to me" You quote the mans partner in the scene before lightly placing your lips on his neck, kissing up and down it in slow long kisses. Zoro can't help but let out a slight moan from the feeling, his heart pounding in his chest as different conflicting emotions run through his body. Sanji soon pulls away panting for air while placing his forehead against Zoro's who's eyes are still slightly wide while his whole face and neck are bright red "My dear, my angel of light -" Sanji whispers as his hand travels up your back getting you to stop kissing Zoro's neck and look up at him, the cook didn't need to say anything, you already knew what he wanted so you leaned in closer to Zoro's face letting your hand run up the swordsman's arm to rest on his shoulder while Sanji pulled away slightly his hand running through the swordsman's hair "I have always and will forever love you and follow your light" The two of you say in unison before kissing Zoro's lips, the three of your lips moving together as the swordsman's hands quickly wrap around the two of you holding you all close together. Zoro relaxes into the kiss letting out a hum of satisfaction, he may still be flustered but maybe the teasing wouldn't be too bad after all.

[moons-of-dewclan]

I was curious how to get your clan really set off? I recently (LIKE EARLIER TODAY JFJSJFJ) started my own clangen blog but idk if it's worthy of Tumblr😭

How can I improve my art and improve my process? You're one of my BIGGEST inspirations ngl you're literally him (or her or they I'm so sorry I never caught your pronouns) but I was just curious on how to be better? If you wanna look, don't. It's like, rlly bad so.... save your eyes. Have a lovely nighttt <33

HELLOOOOO I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT YOU MEAN BY SET OFF I'M SORRY :{ if you mean to get people reading it, i think it's vastly just luck also appealing to an audience by accident i posted my art online for 10 years (i started posting in 2010 as a wee ka- told you i'm an adult haahahueu) before anyone showed consistent interest and i valued those two or so commenters who occasionally had something to say about my stuff, so much LAKSNLKD. that entire decade i got between 2 and 30 favourites for every piece i posted- usually between 2 and 10- until around 2021 when a making a comic aANNND joining a wolf ARPG group exposed me to many kindred art-enjoyers that wanted to keep up with my goofy stories then for some reason, i posted Dewclan's first page on tumblr and it got way more engagement than any other piece of art i've ever posted SO LAKSDNLKDAS WE CANNOT PREDICT THESE THINGS.. at least i can't if you're looking for engagement, pLS AIM FOR ENGAGEMENT THAT FEELS MEANINGFUL over anything else IN MY OPINION, and it's just my opinion- part of being 'better' is, first and foremost, being able to enjoy your art alone. and then being excited with what you choose to share! even if you don't care about your quality of art, care about the story. if you don't care about the story, care about the process and just having fun. but you have to have fun in doing it, and do it for your own eyes primarily. like if you were alone in a room and creating only for yourself! because, until you happen to find others who like what you're liking, you are then when someone is interested and you get to share that excitement, even that ooone comment on something you care about is OOGHHH SUCH A NICE FEELIN. enter communities, comment on other artists' work, try to make friends! but make sure to remember, if you create with the hopes others will like it, without liking it yourself, you're going to be really broken down if someone doesn't like it FOR you :{ loving your own art is tough work but it's integral to your longterm relationship with drawing ON IMPROVING.. for me, nothing is more integral to improving than finding a way to practice that suits you (looking at live figures doesn't help me at all. i don't know why. it's insane), and having fun doing it. i can't grasp anatomy unless i break it down with shapes. SHAPES ARE EVERYTHING. study the shapes of what you want to draw. break em down by tracing simple shapes over your subject. see if the leg is the same length as the head from muzzle to neck and lock that info in. STUFF LIKE THAT on the technical side of things, it can be super helpful to dedicate half an hour or so to drawing a day- eventually it becomes a habit and you just default to 'oh i think i wanna draw' when you've got nothing else to do. more drawing, more improvement!

HONESTLY THO another important thing is not putting yourself down. i know it's a hard habit to break (i struggle with it outside of art myself!), but it doesn't do you any favours. the more you rag on yourself, the more it'll manifest as something that actually damages your art, AND your relationship with it. let it be fun- don't sabotage yourself! you can be critical of your work and still kind! little tip here, improving can take a while, but experimenting with styles can make an INSTANT shift in how you perceive your stuff. ALSOOO EXPERIMENT WITH DIFFERENT BRUSHES FOR SKETCHING AND LINING. I PROOMISE. PLS DO IT. IT'S LIKE A MAGIC TRICK. i cannNNNOT sketch with a hard brush. everything looks horrible. marker brush tho?? so smooth. full of character. lovely. binary brush sketches? suddenly i'm Anime. pencil brush?? i digidevolve back into baby ka who loved to crosshatch and do semi realism. airbrush??? i explode into atoms actually

i find for a lot of people, they don't need to improve or be 'better' at art, they need to learn to enjoy what they're capable of doing now, and improvement is a byproduct. from what i've seen through the years, unless you work to curb it the negative view of your art will stick with you no matter what 'skill level' you get to bc the calls' comin from inside the house, yknow what i mean 3: it can be a long process to learn to accept your art, and sometimes you just plain grow out of it over time! but in the meantime it can't hurt to make efforts to fight your d e m o n s

I'M SORRY I WROTE SO MUCH IK YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS ALL IT ISN'T JUST TO YOU, ODESSY-CLAN BLOG RUNNER, IT'S AIMED AT ANYONE WITH ARTSY SELF DOUBTS. i hope i phrased everything kindly bc i meant it all kindly 3: i hate to see an artist doubt their work, but THERE IS NO SHAME IN IT. i want to encourage loving it regardless of any flaws tho, even though it takes time!