#but some time later I wanted to see if I could find this artwork (and thus artist) online

[satansdarlin]

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

.

.

.

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

.

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.

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

 Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

.

.

.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

.

.

.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

[signanothername]

it might be an awkward question but-

HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO DRAW SO MUCH?? how do you get so many beautiful ideas? how do you keep yourself motivated? tell me your secret I will sell you my soul

🩵 🫴 take it.

Why thank you 🫳🩵

Ah the question ever

Truthful and simple answer is that there’s no secret

This might seem contradictory considering how much I post, but I genuinely am not as motivated or as inspired as I seem to be

I struggle a lot with ideas and motivation and that is a problem I have on a daily basis that’s been happening for years (I have SO many wips that I never shared)

It’s not about the struggle, it’s about how I curated my art to that struggle

I’m at a constant threat to experience burnout (certified chronic pain and chronic fatigue haver), so to combat that, I take measures to make sure I don’t burn myself out and actually reserve the very little energy I have to continue doing artworks/comics

To give you a specific example, if you notice with my comics, they’re always sketchy and are never colored, that’s not because I don’t want to make colored comics, but because of knowledge from previous experiences that if I actually forced myself to make colored comics, I’d immediately plunge to burnout and would probably not be able to draw for a few weeks after because of it (in fact the last time I made a colored comic was here, which is a rare occasion even then btw, and that comic caused me to experience a near burnout)

Which was extremely frustrating to me at some point might I add, because before 2021, I had no problem making so many colored comics and artworks at a short span of time, I actually had motivation before (something that is lost to me now), so you can imagine how genuinely frustrating it is, it even made me feel like I’m not a “real” artist

(The concept of what is considered a “real artist” is bullshit btw, someone who draws stickmen everyday is as much of a real artist as someone who makes diverse fully colored artworks with backgrounds and everything, as long as you use your creativity and turn it to something meaningful, you’re already a real artist, regardless of skill or the extent of which you are able to conceive with your art)

That being said, it’s all about finding your own footing and workflow, what works best for you? What doesn’t?

Some things that you’d love for them to work (in my case making colored comics) might not work in reality, life is disappointing like that, so it’s also about acceptance

Acceptance of yourself as you are, maybe it’s not what you truly strive for, maybe you wish you could do more, but sometimes taking a step back and looking into yourself to see if you can actually achieve what you want with the resources you have could be life saving

So when it comes to motivation? Find your workflow, what are the things that you know could make you lose your motivation? On the other hand, what are the things that preserve your motivation?

Not only that, but time management is also a contributing factor

Of course, my own way to preserve my motivation/energy is as follows:

1- never force myself to finish artworks/comics if I feel like I can’t (even if I really really want to), I save them up for later when my motivation for them kicks back in

2-let perfectionism go, if I keep fretting over whether every line in an artwork looks good I’ll never accomplish anything but destroy my mental health (certified perfectionist speaking btw)

3-comics stay as sketches, as much as I want to make beautifully colored comics, I know this will only contribute to my burnout, so keeping it real with myself and what I can accomplish with my own resources (energy, time, health, etc) is important

4-making multiple sketches in a day then choosing what fancies my brain that day, or getting back to older sketches I already made before (sometimes months before) to see if my brain has the itch to work on any of them, by doing that, then I’m giving myself actual diversity in choices to choose from, which helps me feel like I don’t have to be forced to work on anything new, or something that I don’t wanna work on

For clarification, I’m talking actual sketches, not cleaned up ones, if you make clean sketches you won’t be able to make multiple ones in the same day

Here’s an example of what I mean by sketches

5-stop beating myself up over things I can’t control, if I keep being harsh on myself over the fact I couldn’t finish an artwork or the fact I’m not satisfied with it, it’ll only contribute to make me feel bad about myself and that would only contribute to me losing even more motivation which contributes to beating myself up and so the self torture cycle goes on, myself deserves to be pat on the back gently and be told “it’s ok, you’ll get there in time”

6-teach myself that it’s ok to lose motivation, there are times in which I do not open my art app for weeks, instead of hating myself for it, I tell myself “you need time, you’re tired and you need the break”, and it’s true, if you lost motivation, it’s most likely due to something else contributing to it

So i just ask myself what’s up, sometimes, I’m overworked in other life aspects, other times I’m in too much pain, so instead of forcing myself through my demotivation, I take care of these factors demotivating me so I’d feel comfortable enough to be able to work on artworks again

If I couldn’t identify a factor contributing to my loss of motivation, then I take it as my own brain telling me that it needs the break, it needs the dopamine if doing something different and I do that, whether by watching my favorite shows, playing my favorite games, trying a different hobby like writing or reading, etc

7- work on my own time, sometimes I do finish artworks quickly, and I do have the capacity to do so, but I’ve noticed that my loss of motivation became less of an issue when I gave myself the actual time to work on artworks, sometimes, a simple artwork that I could finish in 20 minutes takes me weeks to finish, not because I can’t finish it earlier, but because I intentionally worked slowly on it as I’m working on other artworks just as slow, that way, I don’t overwhelm myself and I’m making progress on multiple artworks/comics at the same time, and seeing such progress gives me even more motivation

Cough, anyway, got lost in talking about motivation ghcchch

As for your other question about how I get my ideas, it’s usually something I saw that inspired me, whether an artwork, something irl, etc

Or even sometimes, my own artworks inspire ideas for comics, so I’d draw something, then ask myself (asking yourself questions is such a great helper when it comes to coming up with ideas) why is the character doing this? How did they get there? Etc

That helps me come up with answers which are then answered via comics or multiple different artworks

For example, this comic, what inspired it was me asking myself one simple question, “what would happen if Murder actually asked Nightmare for a visit home for once, instead of running away like he always does?”, and that immediately got me to work on the comic

Of course, it doesn’t mean I always am on the ready for an idea, in fact, a lot of the time my mind is blank, nothing up there to help me, which is why I turn to mindlessly sketching sometimes

I just open a canvas and start sketching, what? I don’t know, I’m just gonna sketch something, could be a character, environment, scribbles, meaningless lines etc, it’s my iwn version of a warm up, and it helps a lot with making my brain get into the zone

That’s all I can think of off the top of my head

Enjoy a look into my brain chhcchch

[akiology]

Akiren, Ryuji, Yusuke, Goro with S/O who wants a kiss

Note: This was mainly done out of boredom and need for fluff Ahwwksos I did this in my phone so if it looks weird, I apologize! I will fix it once I get to my computer.

Akiren

"I want a kiss."

The both of you were hanging out at Leblanc. Well, more like you. He was busy washing the dishes while watching over the store. Although, at the moment it was empty, save for the two of you.

When he heard your request, he smiles. He proceeds to dry his hands, and go to your side of the counter.

"Where, treasure?"

You thought of it for a moment, and pointed at your lips, "Here?"

He smiles even wider this time. He closes his eyes and gave you a quick peck. Before he could pull away, you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to ask for more, but the sound of the door opening made you retrieve your hands. He cleared his throat, "Welcome!"

Maybe when he wasn't so busy, you could continue...

He looks at you apologetically and mouths, "Later."

Ryuji

"I want a kiss."

The sound of the various videogame sound effects, children cheering and laughing, and the grunts of your boyfriend on this certain fighting game he has been playing for almost thirty minutes fills your senses. You love watching him play, but man do you also want some affection.

"Wait a minute babe."

You pout, though he cannot see it. The match ended after almost a minute though, and then he quickly turned to you.

"What did'cha want, babe?"

"Kiss please."

"Oh!" And for a second he felt sheepish, but seeing that you were in a slightly secluded part of the arcade, he decided to be a little more bold. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek, and pulled you closer to him to give another kiss on your forehead.

"Do you want to get something to eat?"

Yusuke

"I want a kiss."

The both of you were at Inokashira Park, as Yusuke wanted to find inspiration for his next artwork. It was a nice slightly cloudy day, so it wasn't too hot out. Having an impromptu picnic with your boyfriend outside was definitely a good change of pace.

He has just started cleaning up his landscape sketches, but looked up upon hearing your request.

"Certainly, my darling."

He places his sketchpad beside him, and reached out to give you a quick kiss on your lips. He reached out for your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You smiled at his actions, and then suddenly he stops for a brief second.

"Yusuke, are you o-"

"Hold that pose!"

Goro

"I want a kiss."

The both of you were at his apartment. He was catching up with the Featherman episodes he missed because of work, and you were doing homework. Upon hearing your request, Goro smirked.

"Why?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean 'why'? What if I'm just craving attention from my boyfriend?"

"Hmm..." Goro put his hand under his chin, as if he is considering your very serious request.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. You scooted over to his side until there was no more space between the two of you, "Kiss please!"

He complied and gave you a quick kiss on your nose. You smiled and was about to back away when he held on to your arm.

"What about me? Where's my kiss?"

[sleeplesssmoll]

Vertin's personality and traits based on in-game context.

Contains Spoilers.

Will update when I find more tidbits about our beloved Timekeeper.

Updated: March 15 2024

Vertin sucks at math.

Not much to say here. Although, this is another difference between her and Sonetto, who loves math. I hope they do something with this later because it'd be fun.

Vertin is 16 confirmed

While this isn't a personality trait, I did see some debate about her age since it wasn't officials stated until now and it was assumed through context. Prisoner in the Cave explicitly confirms her age. Vertin became Timekeeper when she was 12 and has been the the TK for the past 4 years.

Vertin is a pianist and a painter.

You can see a piano in the back of her office in the Suitcase by the window. It makes sense in regards to Vertin's musically inclined Arcanum. There's an easel and stool in her office too. She doesn't merely collect art, she creates it. Vertin also owns a camera (official artwork released) too and mentions her photography in the begining, so this isn't new but I thought I should add it.

Vertin's still playful under all her composure.

We know baby Vertin was a little menace, but we can still see a spark of that mischief in her later years. For example, Vertin slapping a fake mustache on Regulus to avoid Sonetto really captures this. We can tell from other characters' voice lines that Vertin will most likely play along with their shenanigans. She'll chirp like a bird in response to Rabies talking about his bird friends (Wilderness interaction). She'll help Sonetto during hide and seek (Wilderness). She watches movies with Eternity and An An Lee. X asks her for help with his projects. Going through her crew's voice lines really paints a better picture of how she interacts with others. The voice lines point to someone playful and curious when she's not in work mode.

Vertin was a gremlin.

Vertin's love language is giving.

We know baby Vertin loved to give gifts to a reluctant Sonetto, but that part of her still exists. She tried to grant everyone's last wishes during the 1929 Storm. We also know she gives Lilya alcohol as a gift upon her return from 1929. She is also very direct. We see her ask people what they want or what can she do for them throughout the story. To expand further, you could say she likes fulfilling people's desires instead of limiting it to material gifts. We can see more of instances of this during the Green Lake event, especially in the way she protects Jessica from the Foundation. She also tried to get Regulus funding for a ship. I love the Suitcase Dad meme, but it's rooted in nuggets of truth.

She was a crappy student, yet she was also a resourceful gremiln. Vertin never liked the institution! Honor student? Top of the class? Never. Teachers are filled with that "Godamnit Vertin" energy toward her too. I hope we see more gremlin energy in the future.

One-sided childhood friends.

Vertin is a collector.

Sonetto and Vertin were desk mates but Sonetto couldn't stand Vertin when they were kids. She even tried to avoid Vertin at times but Vertin persisted with her gifts. We can see this in the hallway scene. Sonetto's about to change routes to avoid Vertin but Vertin called out to her to give her a frog she caught. Kinda funny how Sonetto can't stand Vertin but also can't resist her when they were kids. Vertin and Matilda were actually closer back then. Well, at least until the tear gas incident. Sonetto changed after Vertin was hurt and the rascal wasn't around to bother her. I feel like this tidbit says a lot about Vertin and her influence on people.

Baby Vertin collected rocks, bugs, and frogs. Adult Vertin collects painting and mementos of people she's lost. Things were simpler as a kid.

Vertin is stronger than she looks.

She was a wild child and she's still got it years later. Vertin can run for long periods of time, endure injuries, and climb obstacles. That, and she's still essentially a child solider. We see her hold her own when she needs to fight solo doing stuff like dodging bullets. Sonetto and Matilda also exhibit these freakishly athletic traits, especially Sonetto.

Vertin befriends people in every Era, despite knowing she'll lose them.

Compared to the other children raised by the Foundation, Vertin's traveled the world and witnessed loss in every Era. This opens doors to a whole new set of questions. How did she change over time? How do the Arcanists she recruited before the story treat her? Did she have crushes in previous Eras? Were the oranges just as bitter? Vertin seems to get close to people very easily and doesn't build walls around herself despite the trauma. You'd think someone who's lost so much would stop trying to get close to people, but she doesn't.

Vertin is optimistic.

Even as a child, she was full of hope. It's why she fights for the future and is a core part of her personality. She needs to fight for all those she lost and stop the Storm from taking more lives.

Vertin gets quiet when embarrassed/shy.

She'll blush and fall silent, but she doesn't stammer or go all tsundere. We can see this in voice lines. Sonetto's high praises make her cover her face with her hands. Eternity gets a reaction out of her when she holds her hand. She also blushed when she received surprise smooch and fell silent.

Vertin has a unique scar on her back.

Vertin is a tactile person.

Arcana mentions the scar after Vertin was shot multiple times in the back by Schneider. It's a big scar and new theories about the scar are ongoing and interesting!

In several voice line interactions, Vertin is patting people's heads or holding their hands. Not all her crew mates are on board with it, some seem confused, and others play along. We can also see examples in story like her handing Sonetto a frog while gently grasping her hand or her taking Regulus's hand to lead her into the Suitcase. Here is a post with the evidence to back this claim.

Vertin sucks at arcanum but her deep understanding of arcanum is uncanny.

The story mentions her weak arcanum skills throughout the story. They really want you to remember this. Also, her arcanum didn't manifest until sometime after the break away event but before the events in the prologue. During her stay in the guardhouse, she doubts if she's even an arcanist and mentions her arcanum has yet to manifest, which is wild. Smoltin is fighting with her tiny hands and wit in this chapter. However, in the prologue it's mentioned Vertin's understanding of arcanum and her perception makes her unique amongst arcanists. She's also considered more "rationale" than other arcanists. You can read more about this here.

Vertin is stealthy.

Smoltin sneaks around to play outside. She steals food for herself and the Ring from the Staff Canteen, which has better quality food than what the kids get. This tells me she's done this before. Adult Vertin also sneaks around the Walden to find Schneider. She makes maps, tracks guard routes, and avoids detection since whe was a kid.

Tooth Fairy was one of the few Foundation members who cared about Vertin.

Tooth Fairy is the one who gave Smoltin the toffees (chit chat voicelines). She also covered for Vertin on a few occasions to protect her from punishment. She remembers Vertin faking her illness to skip class, but her bruises and wounds were real. The Foundation does have a few kind hearts that genuinely care about the children. The causes of Vertin's injuries is up to speculation.

[turnaboutfix]

Oh yes of course!!!

I meant specifically like her very early concept art (blue haired) and like, one of the first ones where she has short hair (but still with those 2 loose locks at the front)? I hope you know which one I'm talking about lolol

BUT if you wanna speak your thoughts on like. All of them. I want to hear 👂❓️

( @ellivcca asked what I thought about Maya's concept art and I replied in priv if they could be more specific)

Let's talk about Maya's designs! ✨

I will skip the blue-haired art for now, since I have more to say about her other early designs. They're in a few Japanese AA Guidebooks, but "逆転裁判2 真相解明マニュアル", or "Gyakuten Saiban 2: Fact-Finding Manual" has the most in one place. There are blurbs that discuss the designs, and I'll do my best to summarize them. My Japanese isn't amazing and I had to mostly rely on machine translation + cross referencing dictionaries, so it's possible I may be inaccurate. Also, I'm a novice at Japanese culture, so if I'm misrepresenting anything please bring this to my attention and I'll correct things accordingly!

The book acknowledges that Maya was intended to be of high-school age, hence the the sailor suit artwork. They seem to suggest that the loose socks was a hint at Maya's spunky personality.

When they began to explore her as a spirit medium (1), they wanted her to come from a wealthy, noble family. It looks like a lot of these explorations made it to Franziska's design, with some of the shapes of the shoulders and the jabot-looking neck wear, which is interesting!

As they kept exploring in the second round of sketches (2), they stressed traditional/folk dress as being an important part of her design. They noted they had her carrying something on her back at the time, which I think hints more to her "folksy" feel.

The beaded necklace she's wearing in (2) are drawn from Mala bead necklaces, which are prayer beads rooted in Hinduism and Buddhism and are said to help focus the mind during meditation. They seem present in a lot of spiritual figures in Japan.

Later (3), they explicitly comment drawing inspiration from the Matagi, a group of hunting clans in the northern Japanese mountains (be careful looking them up, they do bear hunting and there's a lot of explicit imagery, even on the wikipedia).

They comment on that this version of her early character might be very athletic. She also seems to be more stoic in these explorations.

Then, for (4) and (5), they evolved the design to make it look appear more feminine, giving her long hair, but making a note that her look isn't typical of modern people. The large orbs in (3), (4) and (5) I think are supposed be drawn from "Yuigesa"(結袈裟), or harnesses decorated with pom-poms worn by Shugendō practitioners, hermits who live in the mountains and practice asceticism.

Then in (6), they added the magatama and committed to her having black hair. They note shortening the hem of her costume from design (5).

The magatama addition is pretty significant! Magatama necklaces are used by noro priestesses of the Ryukyu Kingdom from the islands in the very south of Japan.

Their religion broadly speaking, involves ancestor worship and the relationships between the living and dead, gods and spirits. It seems to me like the culture in Kurain Village draws a lot from the Ryukyuan people--and you can even see this with the beads along with the magatamas.

But there seems to be a lot of generic imagery of Spirit Mediums that I've been able to find in Japanese media which have shared elements of design in Maya's final design. The most interesting of these to me is "ほんとにあった!霊媒先生", or "It Really Happened! Spirit Medium Teacher". The design similarities are striking (and make me wonder if Maya was an inspiration?)

So, to summarize it all up, it seems like the early designers (and there were only two! Kumiko Suekane and Tatsuro Iwamoto) wanted a character who was different, folksy, feminine and spunky that displayed unique spiritual power to aid in the narrative/game mechanics of the games, and they explored the different facets of their own culture--from the northern Matagi clans to the southern Ryukyuan people--Japanese iconography, and tastes into Maya's final design.

And I think that's Real Neat. :)

Thoughts about other designs (Blue-Haired/SoJ Maya) under the cut cuz oh my gosh this post is already huge.

Blue haired Maya!

What's interesting to me is that a lot of the design language on this early Maya art seems to have been carried over to Ema's design (glasses, boots, coat/skirt). She also has similar vibes to Lynne from Ghost Trick.

I definitely enjoy Maya's final design a lot better, but I like the triadic color harmony and spunk here!

And then her design update in Spirit of Justice! These concepts are from "逆転裁判6 公式ビジュアルブック", or "Gyakuten Saiban 6: Official Visual Book". :)

Takuro Fuse (the character designer) comments that he never drew Maya before when he took a stab at updating her, so he wanted to get that down first before tackling the designs. He wondered how she would change over the course of 11 years, and first experimented with a design, thinking about how Mia would look like as a spirit medium. He thought it would be interesting if Phoenix wouldn't be able to tell if Maya channeled Mia. (Me too tbh.)

I feel like this design has a bit too much going on, but I do like the longer cream colored sleeves!

Takuro talks more about how he was exploring all sorts of designs before landing on something more simple. He wanted her to have what he called a "traveling costume" and was very fond of the hat. These designs seem to pull from similar places I've discussed with Maya's early designs, as well as Japanese pilgrims.

As fun as the additions and changes to her design are, I think it was very smart to just add subtle changes: the longer robes, jacket, and the additional beads to her necklace. The shawl is a nice touch, too. This reflects how post-7yg Phoenix and Edgeworth also have subtle changes to their designs as well, which I love and I think were very smart moves from a design-perspective as well as personal taste. Their designs are very iconic and I think it was a service to maintain that iconography.

This was a very fun thing to explore! Thank you kindly @ellivcca for the ask!

[theoutcastrogue]

[From a 2014 article by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. He's talking about how a random spam email ended up inspiring a part of his book Wolf in White Van. Later, in 2020, the album Getting Into Knives came out, and I think it inspired its artwork too.]

"It took years for me to be able to just reflexively delete spam, or filter it so that I never see it at all. I blame the spammers for this; the quality of their work took a sharp nosedive at some point. But during whatever period of the internet’s growth you’d call the early 2000s, it seemed like you’d still get some winners: things that had been typed up by a person, sent out to a bunch of email addresses they’d bought or rented for 5 or 10 bucks from the only guy who was ever going to make any money in this particular exchange. Most of them went directly, if manually, into the trash; but once in a while, there’d be one that seemed to earn, at the very least, the minute it’d take me to read it.

The one I’m remembering here was subject-lined SUPPLY OF KNIVES. [...] The subject line opened on an all-caps email that boasted, in ornate, antiquated English appealing to the reader’s more refined sensibilities, about the high quality of the knives on offer at an external website. You shouldn’t click on links in spam email. I live my life on the razor’s edge! I clicked the link.

I want to tell you about these knives: They were beautiful. They were weird. They had elaborate designs in the handles, moons or stars of wolf heads, and special grips, and a variety of points. They were made from metals whose pedigrees were described lovingly, and had been struck — smithed? wrought? — via processes I knew absolutely nothing about, but that sounded fantastic, difficult, arcane. It’s the joy of specialized language: When you’re an outsider to it, it can’t help but sound cool.

Of course this is the whole idea of any operation like this. SUPPLY OF KNIVES could well have been, and probably was, a company in Ohio who’d stumbled across an old warehouse full of knives, and knew enough about sales to describe these things in the most exotic terms they could find. I’m pretty immune to pitches: Who likes to feel like he’s being pitched? But somebody involved with SUPPLY OF KNIVES had had just enough authorial flair — that, or true faith — to caption each knife’s mysterious, blurry accompanying JPEG with a description whose constant recourse to specialized vocabularies seemed to say, “You’re not even reading this unless you already know about this sort of thing. Let us therefore speak like the fellow travelers we are.”

It was like a trade catalog for roadside bandits in need of knives.

I can’t speak for everybody, but I know that when I was a child the life of the roadside bandit seemed like a pretty romantic way to go. I looked at all these knives and read the descriptions and was just generally delighted about the whole thing, so I saved the email in a “memorable spam” folder I used to keep that had maybe two other emails in it. A few years later, Apple came out with this robotic-arm-screen iMac you never see any more, and we were long overdue for a new computer so we got that; and then, after a while, I got myself a laptop, because I was traveling all the time, and eventually both the old iMacs ended up in the basement, and they were both asleep but alive until fairly recently, as far as I knew.

But when I went to check for the email, it was gone. The old blue iMac is dead, bricked, lifeless. Searches on the term “supply of knives” on this laptop and on good old robot-arm-screen find nothing. The backup CD for the blue iMac drive is probably in a drawer around here somewhere, but that’s like saying, “The coin I had in my swim trunks’ pocket is probably somewhere in the ocean.” There is no SUPPLY OF KNIVES. There’s only the memory."

[source]

And this is the wonderful cover art of Getting Into Knives. Back cover and promo material below. Note that "Knives International" and "Knives Wordwide" are not real companies, they appear to be a callback to that elusive spam email.

[therandomartmaker]

[Image ID: An artwork featuring Danny Phantom, full green excluding his hair and white accents, transparent, sitting on a pile of rubble head tilted slightly upwards with his eyes closed. His hair is wispy, he’s got pointed ears and he’s much more identifiable as a ghost. The rubble includes the F of the Fenton Works sign, a satellite dish of some kind, pipes and concrete. The rubble, and Danny, is surrounded by yellow-black striped caution tape. Above Danny’s head is a conversation, in white, “It’s been ten years,” has been written, and in green, “It’s only been 10 years,” is written. /End ID]

Day 31: “It had been a decade since anyone last lived at Fenton Works. Or so people thought.”

tbh this took like. Less than half an hour to make haha. I may have forgotten to do this yesterday lmaooo. To make up for it, here’s a continuation of this prompt by @cryinginthevoid that i filled, wherein Danny has been stuck haunting the rubble of a ruined Fenton Works after his permanent death, only to later be approached by a very much alive Damian, who is the first person to See Danny in over 10 years. So yep, bonus challenge post 2 under the read more :D

Damian had visited. He’d promised and he’d followed through on it, Danny sitting still and watching as Damian approached, day after day, even after Danny had no more words to say, no more information to give. To quote, he was “a tolerable friend despite your intolerance for proper respect.” Danny had no idea if that was a good or bad thing, if he were to be honest.

But still! It’d been 10 years since he’d to spoken to someone, something other than the air. Damian said his brothers wouldn’t follow him, despite saying he’d bring them to meet Danny during one their tentative hangouts, and Danny supposed that was a good thing. He didn’t want Damian to sound crazy or look crazy for talking to thin air, especially not by his family.

Though, what was interesting was the weird amount of black-haired blue-eyed outsiders hanging around town. The FentonWorks rubble had a pretty good view of most of town, despite it’s slow erosion into dust, so Danny was able to see the several strangers in town whenever he went looking.

Damian said his family was looking into ectoplasm due to it’s relation with the dead, and trying to find if anyone around town knew how to access their information databases. They needed to know if there was a way to relieve “Jason’s” burden of the “Lazarus Rage,” and prepare in the case someone else in the family acquires it. And that ‘Lazarus Pits’ are classified information, but who did Danny have to share it to, no one could talk to him except Damian, anyway.

And truthfully, those Lazarus Pits Damian mentioned sounded like pools of ectoplasm that Maddie and Jack would’ve killed for. Danny could only suggest looking into ‘ecto-acne’ treatments, as from one of the stories of Vlad Masters Danny’d heard, it sounded like the short-term effects of ectoplasm exposure.

—

Damian didn’t know why he was sharing so much confidential with Daniel, but he didn’t seem to mind, and didn’t seem to talk to anyone else. He figured it’d be fine. Daniel needed to know as much context as possible in order to help Damian.

Daniel was strange, he spoke in large amounts, but quieted as though he doesn’t expect someone would respond to him. He rarely moved, and there was something unnatural about him. Perhaps the lack of a rise and fall of his chest, or the way his eyes shined.

Damian couldn’t help but make comparisons to the dead he’d seen. Lightless glossy eyes, pale skin, sallow flesh. Daniel was built like a dying or dead person.

Damian… worried. He’d grown close to the other boy, Daniel’s snark to Damian’s sharp tongue and his acceptance of Damian’s veganism, multiple other factors about Damian never drove Daniel away from him. It was nice, being accepted by someone outside of his family. Daniel’s health was concerning, malnutritioned and Daniel’s reaction time was slow. Multiple things were off-kilter about him, and Damian wanted to know why. So he could help.

Because Danny was his friend.

—

Dick observed Damian. He’d taken to pacing the length of the hotel room, and he seemed worried about his new friend (!!! Dami has a friend!!!! And he’s worried about him!!!), muttering about bringing food to the next time he visited. Dick kinda felt bad about what he was about to tell Dami.

“Richard, why are you looking at me?” Dami asked, stopping his pacing to look up at Dick, a soft half-hearted glare on his face.

“Uh well, Tim…” (fuck! He wasn’t supposed to mention Tim!)

“What did Drake do?”

“Tim told me to tell you that we’d gotten enough information and that we were leaving in two days, just in case something new crops up!” Dick rushed, knowing that Dami would loathe the information, but despise Dick more for not telling him.

Dami needed to say goodbye to his new friend, after all, but from what Dick could tell, they couldn’t even have long-distance communication, because “Daniel Who Liked Being Called Danny” didn’t even have a phone!

Dami’s click of his tongue was expected, and his expression had worsened too. Dick had messed up, but he didn’t think there was anyway to break it gently that Damian would have to leave his newfound friend.

The boy stormed off, leaving the room with a door slam. Dick felt bad, man. Well… Dick did have a spare phone he was free to gibe to someone… Perhaps Danny would like it?

[bonecarversbestie]

An Ode to Spring

After a conversation with some friends I was inspired to write a fairytale style story about Tamlin drinking from the pool of starlight in an attempt to be happy again after Feyre left. I also drew this picture. ~1000 words Read on AO3 or below the cut

Once upon a time, in a Land of Eternal Spring, a Faerie prince was born to a cold and ruthless King and a kind and caring Queen. The prince’s name was Tamlin.

The King raised Tamlin with a firm hand, showing him the ways of the Seven Kingdoms and teaching him to rule the land of Spring without mercy. 

But Tamlin had little interest in ruling. He had a gentle heart like his mother’s, and he was drawn not to the throne room but to the fields and forests beyond it. 

He spent his days roaming the lands around the castle, writing poetry, and playing his fiddle for the birds in the trees and the mice in the fields. 

One day, Tamlin came across an enchanted pool buried deep in the forest. It was filled not with water but with liquid starlight.

He had heard stories of such a pool since he was a boy. The legends claimed that anyone who drank from the starlight waters would be happy until his last breath. But Tamlin never imbibed, choosing instead to save the magic for someone who truly needed it.

Years later, an Evil Prince from a kingdom of darkness came in the night and killed the King and Queen, forcing Tamlin to set aside his fiddle in favor of a crown that he never wanted.

Tamlin cared deeply for his people and longed to forge a new path for himself and his kingdom, but he felt trapped by the centuries of strict laws and traditions that remained from his father’s reign.

One day, an Evil Sorceress declared herself High Queen over the Seven Kingdoms.  The Sorceress Queen coveted Tamlin, but he resisted her advances, much to her displeasure. 

As punishment for his defiance, the Queen placed a curse over the Kingdoms, which only Tamlin could break by finding a human maiden with hatred in her heart for Faeries and winning her love.

For nearly fifty years, Tamlin sent his men into the Human Lands to find the Maiden, and for nearly fifty years, he was unsuccessful. Many of his men did not return, and when he ran out of soldiers, he was forced to send his friends. Soon only one remained—his most trusted courtier and emissary, Lucien, who entered Tamlin’s study bearing grave news.

 “Andras,” Lucien said, hands trembling, “is dead.” 

He had been killed by a human Maiden. 

Though Tamlin mourned his friend, Andras, he knew this Maiden was his last chance to break the curse, so he brought her to his home. The Maiden was sullen and starving, so Tamlin gave her food and fine clothes and her own room in his castle. When The Maiden said she wished to paint, Tamlin gifted her the castle’s art gallery. 

He watched as painting started to bring joy to the Maiden’s life. Her passion inspired him, stirring his long-forgotten love of music and poetry.

Tamlin found that he was falling in love with The Maiden, but as his love grew, so did his fear. He knew that to break the curse would put The Maiden’s life at great risk. And so, to save his love, he sent The Maiden away.

But the Maiden was very brave. She returned to the Faerie Lands, defeated the Sorceress Queen, and saved the Seven Kingdoms. 

Tamlin, grateful for all The Maiden had done, asked her to marry him. But she was in love with another—the Prince of Darkness, now a King and Tamlin’s sworn enemy. To add insult to injury, The Maiden took Tamlin’s last remaining friend, Lucien, with her when she left.

Though he still loved her, Tamlin could see that The Maiden was happier in her new kingdom, and let her go.

And so, Tamlin was utterly alone. His cries of anguish made the trees and mountains tremble. In his despair, he tore his castle apart, destroying books and artwork, finally smashing his beloved fiddle to pieces before leaving his home for good.

He transformed into a great golden beast and abandoned his throne, haunting his lands until they fell to ruin.

One night, he came upon the Pool of Starlight, still shimmering brightly amidst the decay. Overcome by sorrow and desperate to be happy once more, Tamlin bent his great golden head and drank from the pool. 

Warmth and comfort filled him, and he returned to his lands, renewed. But the euphoria was short-lived, and the next day, he returned to the Pool and drank from its waters again. 

For an entire year, Tamlin returned to the Pool, drinking more deeply each day, until one morning he arrived to find it empty. He had drunk it dry, and still he was not happy.

Tamlin climbed into the empty Pool, curled up at the bottom, and cried. And as he wept, his tears filled the pool with starlight once more.

As Tamlin lay in the depths of the Pool, hoping to drown, strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him from the water. Tamlin blinked at his savior, who was shining like the sun. It was Lucien, come home at last, and his presence filled Tamlin with joy. Lucien had not forsaken him. 

From behind his back, Lucien brought forth a brand new fiddle, offering it to Tamlin as a symbol of their friendship and a reminder to follow his heart.

Tamlin reached for the fiddle, and in that moment, he saw his own hand—not the golden paw of a beast, but the hand of a man.  He took the fiddle and began to play. 

It was a joyful tune of new beginnings. The birds in the trees sang, and the mice in the field danced as Tamlin walked through his lands, filling them with music once more.

After some time, the Land of Eternal Spring became a haven for artists and lost souls, ruled by Tamlin, the wandering king who had found peace. And they all lived happily until their last breaths.

The End

[misserabella]

okay hear me out abby x tattoo artist reader!!

okay hear me out 🩷 (so much fluff!!)

tattoo love

abby anderson x fem! reader

abby who is just starting to get her tattoos years after finally getting into medicine. (she’s become a re known surgeon and so her skills finally being recognized, she doesn’t need to keep ‘images’, so after years of suffering and hard work she finally gets her first tattoo appointment’)

abby who, mindlessly scrolling though instagram, finds your account and falls in love with how beautiful you tattoo and decides that if she’s going to get a tattoo her first should be yours.

abby the pretty girl that hits you up with a ‘hey! i just wanted to say that i really love your art and was wondering if i could book an appointment with you! :)’

abby who smiles widely when you hit her back with a ‘sure! what are you looking for? :)’

abby who sends you pictures of little tattoos that her friend ellie had made for her and quotes that she loves with which she would like to do a sleeve. minimalistic, all black and white and small. she even had one for her mother, who had sadly passed away years prior.

abby who blushes when you tell her that the artwork is beautiful and that she’s really brave to go all in due to this being her first time being tattooed.

abby the nervous wreck who keeps spacing out during work due to how excited she is.

abby the tall pretty blonde that sits on your waiting area for you to finish your prior appointment to go inside.

abby the intelligent surgeon who flushes when she sees you, all smiles and pretty with skin littered in tattoos.

abby the clumsy mess that makes an scene when you call out for her and she quickly sits up, hitting the center table on her way to you and making the magazines on top of it fall to the floor.

abby the apologizing wreck who can’t stop saying sorry as she kneels and starts to pick them up, cheeks, neck and ears going all red when you help her and your hands meet. shit. was she a fucking teenager?

abby, the amazing surgeon that forgets how breathing works when you smile at her. where were the lungs again?

abby, who sits silently, with wide puppy eyes as you explain everything that will happen during then session, show her everything you’ll be using and their function. you were like a surgeon, but for tattoos. and she liked that.

abby, who listens to you as you try and distract her from being nervous as you get everything ready by showing her some of your art and who silently thanks you for doing so.

abby, who realized it doesn’t hurt that bad and joins into a soft easy conversation with you.

abby, who you learn about a lot in that hour and a half —you two had accorded on meeting up the next day to finish up her sleeve—. by the end of the session you know that she’s a general surgeon, that her mother passed very early on her life, that her father is the most important person in her life, that she also has a dog name alice and that she really loves snow drops and lilies.

abby anderson, who can’t wait to meet you again and ends up laying awake all night, ending up slightly dozing off on the second appointment. of course you didn’t tell her, you didn’t mind. she looked so adorable with her pretty blue eyes all droopy in sleep…

abby_anderson, who posts you to her instagram stories once her sleeve is complete and who you end up following that same night ‘cause… maybe you found her too cute for your own good.

abby_anderson, account that you spend eyeing for hours. she seemed to really love hitting the gym, finding time to go every morning early before her shifts. and she was…, hot. her muscles were huge. you found so cute how gentle she was compared to her exterior, all scary and strong. she also posted about books she’d read, and films she’d watch with her friends.

abigail, better known as abby, who hits you up a few days later telling you how happy she is with the result of your work and how she’d love to invite you to a cup of coffee to thank you. you of course said yes.

abby the blushing mess that takes you for a walk on the park, buys you coffee and with who you spend the whole day talking and walking around, going for dinner that same night. also the flushed wreck that asks you if it’d be okay to meet up with you again.

abby, the gentle general surgeon that texts you in between shifts and in her free time and that cups your cheeks and softly kisses you under the stars on your third date.

abby anderson, with who you now lived and with who you’re two years in in the most perfect and beautiful relationship you’ve ever had.

and all because of a tattoo.

-

a/n; so cute :(

[merrybloomwrites]

Spencer Agnew - First Tattoo

Summary: Spencer accompanies you when you get your first tattoo, leading to some future ideas.

Word Count: 705

CW: tattoo needle

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“You’re absolutely sure about this?” 

You laugh and reply, “Yes, Spencer, I am absolutely sure.”

He’s asked you no less than a hundred times. But now that you’re at the tattoo parlor, stencil already drawn on your arm, you thought he’d be done double checking your decision. 

You understand why he’s so nervous in this situation. He feels somewhat responsible for you deciding to get a tattoo.

It’s not that you’d never thought of it before and he talked you into it, or pressured you to do it. Truly it’s something that has been in the back of your mind for years. But in the time that the two of you had been dating, he’d gotten two more tattoos to join the ones he already had. And that inspired you! 

For weeks you worked on finding the perfect design, and finally you settled on one. A mountain range with a moon in the background, reminding you of camping trips you’d taken with your father who had passed a couple years prior. 

Spencer knew the meaning behind the image you chose. He’s even more alert than normal, not only worried about the physical pain you’ll experience getting the tattoo, but also the mental pain that could arise due to what it symbolizes.

But there you sit, more excited than anything. You figure Spencer can worry enough for the both of you. It’s endearing really, seeing how concerned he’s getting, how anxious he is at just the thought of you being in any pain.

“Spence, really, I’m excited to do this! I’m going to be fine,” you say, laughing at how you’re the one reassuring him that everything will be okay. It should really be the other way around, him telling you that nothing will go wrong, but at least his nerves distract you from any of your own.

Your left arm is perfectly placed on the arm rest, and you reach out to Spencer with your right, saying, “Now give me your hand so I can squeeze the shit out of it if this hurts.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies and he laces his fingers with yours. The two of you share a smile as any lingering anxiety melts away at the touch.

A moment later, the tattoo artist comes back and sits down. “Are we ready to start?” she asks.

After you confirm that you’re good to go, she brings the needle to your skin. You lightly squeeze Spencer’s hand, and he runs his thumb along your skin to relax and reassure you. 

It’s not as bad as you were expecting, only hurting in a couple spots while the rest is more uncomfortable. Once it’s done and you’re taking a moment to admire the artwork on your arm, it’s easy to see how happy you are. 

It’s a cooler day, so Spencer helps you into the soft jacket you brought.

“So,” he says. “Think you’ll get hooked now? Get lots of tattoos?”

“Oh I think that’s definitely a possibility. Maybe I’ll get a thwomp to match yours,” you answer.

“Wait, really?” His eyes literally light up at the idea so you’re quick to reply, “Okay, maybe not thwomp. But, I wouldn’t be against a matching tattoo. Someday. In the future.”

“I could also be up for a matching tattoo someday in the future,” he replies before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your mouth. 

The two of you walk hand-in-hand out of the tattoo parlor and Spencer says, “So if thwomp is out, what are your feelings on Bowser?”

You bark out a sudden laugh at the suggestion and reply, “Maybe we should brainstorm a little more.” 

That evening Spencer helps change the dressing on your arm. You can’t help the warm feeling you get as he focuses on the task, being so gentle while ensuring he does it just right to help you heal properly. 

You know it’s early in the relationship to be thinking about matching tattoos, but days like today help you know for sure that he’s the one you want to spend your future with. When you think about that, the idea of getting permanent art on your body that connects you to him doesn’t seem that crazy at all.

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AN: Thanks for reading! Next Thursday's post will be some Ian fluff!

[obey-me-disaster]

Ohoho, I've come up with a fluffy idea and figured I'd come dump it on you because I am too lazy to write it myself. >:)

Various brothers have a tendency to fall asleep in MC's room or within their vicinity. One day MC manages to take off their shirt while they're alseep and draws all over their chest / shoulders/ stomach, this way its not so everyone can see and they dont get embarrassed. They write little poems + hearts + compliments + words of encouragement and "I love you!!" + "MC was here" written everywhere. After MC drew on them they put their shirt back on and went back to bed like nothing happened. Later the brother of MC's choice takes a shower / changes their clothes and finds MC's "artwork". How would they react?

This is so cute??! With the way some of them act like MC's room is their room this can very well happen.

This ask really got me out of the writer's block so I think I ended doing just a little bit more than you asked, hope you'll still enjoy it ^-^

Demon brothers x gn!MC

MC who writes cute messages on their body while they sleep

Lucifer

A/N: This was inspired by a chat with drunk Lucifer.

The likelihood of normal Lucifer falling asleep in MC's room is low. The chances of MC writing on his body are even lower. Drunk Lucifer on the other hand...

MC was just chilling in their room when Lucifer stumbled in. They knew he was drunk due to all the affectionate messages he has been sending them throughout the night but they were not expecting him to show up in their room.

MC rushed to check if he was alright but he merely brushed off their concerns saying he just wanted to see them before going to rest.

There was not much going through his head at the moment besides regretting the 'who can drink the most' bet with Diavolo and wanting to see MC before going to sleep. Between wanting to check up on them and trying to leave the room he wasn't sure when he ended up in their bed.

Maybe it was when MC insisted that they should give him some water before going to him, or it was when he decided to wait for them and ended up falling asleep.

By the time MC came back with a glass of water and a light snack he was fast asleep in their bed. Sighing MC put down the water and snack and went to cover him with a blanket. It wasn't everyday he got to rest and MC was sure as hell not going to wake him up.

As they approached they couldn't help but admire his features. He had a slight flush across his face, probably from the demonus he drank earlier, that made him look quite cute. Paired with the serene look on his face MC couldn't help but take a picture, it was not everyday the avatar of pride looked so relaxed, let alone sleep in their bed.

They wanted to let Lucifer know how much they loved him, how they wanted him to sleep in their room on other occasions, not only when he was drunk and of course, how cute he looked. At that moment, it was not possible, in the morning he may be hangover. If they leave a note about it he may not see it and sending him a text about it may have the same outcome so they settled on the only rational decision their brain could come up with at 3 am, writing on his body.

At first MC wanted to write on his hand, it would not fit all the things they wanted to write so they slowly pulled his shirt up. They looked over at him to be sure he won't wake up, they didn't want to explain why they were lifting up his shirt while sleeping.

Once they were sure he wouldn't wake up they begun to write various messages with little hearts along his torso. Once they were satisfied MC decided to climb in bed and go to sleep cuddled up to Lucifer.

By the time they woke up Lucifer was already gone, probably to avoid his brothers finding him in their room. Checking their phone they saw they got a message from Lucifer. He apologized for the trouble he caused so late into the night and told them to come into his room in order to thank them properly. MC started to wander if Lucifer will ignore the messages on his body or not. Even if he did, this whole incident started to become a habit for MC every time one of the brothers fell asleep in their room.

Meanwhile in Lucifer's room

He woke up not long after MC fell asleep besides him. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together and decided to leave before any of his brothers would barge in and start a ruckus.

In his room he started to undress so he could change into his pijamas when he saw something written on his torso. Going in front of the mirror he started to read all the sweet messages MC left on his body. He couldn't help but smile at the gesture. He snapped a quick photo of all the messages before deciding he should really make it up to them the next day. Who knows, he may end up sleeping in their room again just as they wished.

Mammon

When is he not in MC's room? He might as well move there with how much he stays there. His phone charger, some of clothes and other junk can be found in MC's room.

Tonight was no different. He was sitting in his bed complaining about Lucifer while MC was finishing up a project for school. He tried to convince them to stop doing homework and spend time with him but to no avail. Frustrated he tried to give them the silence treatment. In his mind MC would come and beg for him to talk with them and stop doing all the school work, it was a full proof plan in his head.

What he didn't take into account was the fact that he would fall asleep in MC's bed and how could he not. The bed was so warm and soft and had MC's scent all over it. Add the fact that he was not being entertained by MC and they get a Mammon fast asleep, holding one of their pillows.

After 5 minutes of silence MC went to check on him and sure enough, he was fast asleep. The scene was all too similar to the one time Lucifer fell asleep, fact that gave them an idea.

They grabbed a pencil and went to pull his shirt up. He moved in his sleep a few times and tried to grab at MC but they managed to get away. No need to get beaten by a sleeping Mammon the way Levi did in the past.

With enough space for writing MC went to work. Small doodles of money and hearts and a few messages about how much they love him. They also snuck the words 'great Mammon' and 'first' here and there but they were not very noticeable.

Being satisfied with their work, MC pulled down his shirt and went back to finish their school project. It would take a while for Mammon to wake, late alone to discover MC's little surprise.

When Mammon woke up in the morning he realized that his plan to make MC beg for attention failed miserably but even with the failed plan he couldn't get mad. MC was holding tightly onto him.

He stayed like that for a while, trying to savour the moment for as long as he could. He didn't think to get up until he could hear his stomach growl, at which point he decided it's time to get up.

He slowly got out of bed and went to the bathroom attached to MC room to change his clothes and wash his face in order to freshen up.

When he took of his shirt he noticed something written all over his chest and stomach. At first he thought that some witch did something to him and was on the verge to go wake up MC when he noticed some little hearts from the corner of his eyes.

He pulled out his phones and took a photo of all the writing so he could finally take a proper look at the writing. When he started to slowly read all the cutesy messages written in gold from his chest and stomach he nearly dropped him phone right there and then.

He didn't know whatever to go wake up MC or not so he decided to do the most logical thing in his mind. Go to his room and start spaming their phone with messages. He tried to put on his usual tsundure attitude during their texts but it was clear he was over the moon about the whole thing.

He made sure not only to take a few more photos of himself with the stuff written by MC but to fall asleep in their room more often with a golden marker right next to him. he couldn't be more obvious

Leviathan

Levi is an introvert through and through. Being around crowds drains his energy and he has to spend some time alone in order to bounce back to his old self. But just because he likes to be alone from time to time in order to recharge his social battery it doesn't mean he likes being lonely.

He often goes to MC room and plays or watches something on his phone while MC does something else entirely. Just being in their presence was enough for him to not feel lonely anymore.

It was one of those night where his social battery was below zero but he really didn't want to be alone when he entered MC's room and went to sit on their bed. MC merely waved at him and went back to whatever they were doing.

They knew Levi would come into their room. Earlier that day Diavolo hosted a party which exhausted Levi to the core. They prepared for him some of their softest plushies they got from various brothers for him to hold.

When they first begun to do this Levi was afraid it would get awkward. Sitting in silence and doing different things seemed like a recipe for disaster but it turned out completely fine. It made their bond stronger, Levi could swear his intimacy level for MC went up.

Levi made himself comfortable and started to collect all his daily logins from numerous gacha games from his phone. The only time anyone spoke was when MC asked if he wanted some snacks but they were met with silence. They softly asked again in case Levi didn't hear them but they got the same response.

They went to check on him only to discover that he has fallen asleep while holding his phone. MC couldn't help but go grab their phone so they could take a picture. It was the first time Leviathan felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in their room. Once they were satisfied with the number of photos they took they went to grab a dark purple pen to start writing on him. They already did that to his older brothers, it might as well become a tradition of sorts.

Pulling his shirt up was definitely way easier of a task to do than they thought. The hard part came when they started to write. Apparently Levi was quite ticklish so he would squirm every time MC's been would be tracing anything on his chest, torso and shoulders. They wrote various references to romance anime that they have watched and the inside jokes between them. They tried to draw a small ruri chan too but didn't come out too well. Once they were satisfied they pulled his shirt down and let him continue his nap.

By the time he woke MC was no longer in the room but they did leave him a note saying that they went to out to buy something. Seeing as he was alone he took it as his chance to leave since he felt pretty embarrassed for falling asleep like that.

It wasn't until later that night, when he was preparing to take a bath that he noticed all the writing. He quickly went to a mirror and when he saw all the messages left by MC he nearly fainted right there and then. He felt like the protagonist of some romantic anime, or even beyond that since he has never seen a scene like that in anything that he has watched.

Even when he would try to deny that MC felt like that about him, those thoughts would quickly go away as he would stare down at the proof that MC truly love him.

He stood for quite a few minutes, thinking on the best way to preserve all of this when he realized that MC, in order to leave all the cute notes and doodles, would have had to lift up his shirt . That was the last thing he thought about before his brain started to malfunction.

Satan

Whenever Satan would feel angry at something and needed a way to calm down he would either go read a book, pet some cats, take his anger out on something in the forest or go stay in MC's presence. This situation was quite similar to Levi's, where he would go to MC's room just to spend time together in silence, while they would do different things.

And in the same way MC would prepare some plushies or snacks for Levi, they would prepare tea or sneak a cat in the HOL. While Satan reading in the presence of MC wasn't a rare thing, him coming into their room to read in order to calm down didn't happen too often. As much as Satan appreciates MC looking out for him and enjoys the small things they do for him, he wouldn't want to be angry in their presence too often. Especially during the times when he feels he doesn't have that much control over his emotions.

This time tho, it wasn't that bad. He couldn't say he felt truly angered, just annoyed at how badly the day went for him. When he entered MC's room they immediately could tell why he came, so they welcomed him in and excused themself to go bring some tea for him and something to drink for themself.

He really couldn't thank then enough for all the things they do for him, so he just figured he would think of a way to surprise them once he is fully calm.

After MC came back with their drinks, both of them settled in a comfortable silence, doing their own thing. This went on for a while and before he could even realize, he fell asleep while hugging the book.

Being used to this by now, the gently took the book from his hands and put it on their, making sure to put a bookmark on whatever page Satan was on. After making sure everything was out of the way they grabbed their phone to snap a few pictuers of him and a marker and went to work.

While lightly lifting up his shirt wasn't that hard, MC got stuck on what to write for him. They made sure to write something unique for each brother and they wanted to do something like that for Satan too. Sure, they could draw a cat and make some cat puns, but Satan's range of interests went way beyond his love for felines.

A shiver from Satan snapped MC out of their throughts. If they kept his shirt up for too long he would wake up from feeling cold, so they had to act quickly. They started to think of all the love poems they heard Satan talk about and quickly searched for them on their DDD. While these wouldn't exactly be MC's words they would still carry the same sentiment.

As they start writing down various small love poems, MC made a mental note to actually think of one for the next time this happens. After thet made sure everything was written down, they made a small drawing of a kitten and pulled down his shirt.

When Satan woke up he was none the wiser about the surprise MC prepared for him under his shirt. He apologized for falling asleep like that and excused himself to go back to his room. All of his brothers could tell that he left MC's bedroom so much calmer than when he went in.

He went straight into his room to take a shower so he could properly go to bed after as he still felt quite tired despite the nap that he took. As he was about to step in the shower he noticed the writing across his chest and stomach.

As he went in front of a mirror to read he quickly recognized both the writing and the poems across his body. Those were all poems that Satan has talked about or from poets he has showed to MC. Across his chest there was a small message that said 'Despite them not being my words they carry the same sentiment. Next time I will come up with something just for you.'

If he, by some slim chance was still angry, this would have gotten rid of any and all negative emotions. He made sure to carefully read all the poems. He already knew them by heart, but since this was MC's hard work, it would be a shame to not appreciate it. He really had to come up with something to express his gratitude to MC as fast as he could.

Asmodeus

Sleep overs between MC and Asmodeus happened quite often. Sometimes they were planned well ahead, sometimes they were on the spur of the and this one was of the latter kind. Both of them came back from a party and since neither of them felt like going on their seprate ways, they decided to have a sleep over in MC's room.

The first part of their sleep over was just taking of any make up and accessories they bad followed by changing into their pijamas. While in theory it may sound like this would be done in 10 minutes, it took them an hour, or at least it took Asmo an hour to officialy be done.

He would have been done way faster but he kept on stopping to tell MC about the latest gossip he heard. By the time he was finished getting into his pijamas he was beyond exhausted. All the hype from that party that kept him awake was gone and replaced with need to cuddle up to MC and fall asleep.

He wanted to stay awake and talk with MC a little bit more but he knew all too well that his body was drained from all the partying. Despite slowly falling asleep, he continued to tell MC about the latest drama his fans caused while holding their hand.

When his breathing became even and he stopped from talking, MC saw it as their chance to get up from bed and get a pen ready. They made sure to pick a glitter pink pen just for him. MC made quick work of his shirt, it was honestly shocking he was wearing clothes at all since he likes to sleep all natural. They started to write as many cutesy messages and draw hearts all over him. Asmo would softly laugh in his sleep here in there, probably being tickled by MC writing on his skin.

Once they have deemed that they wrote enough messages MC put the glitter pen away and went back to sleep, this time cuddling Asmo properly.

When morning came Asmo got out of bed way earlier than MC and went back to his bedroom so he could start his skin care routine which would take a while. Before all of that, he wanted to take a bath first in order to relax, but as he undressed he noticed something across his body.

He went to one of his many mirrors and started to admire MC's handiwork. He tried to recall to any time MC showed signs of being into body writing but he couldn't recall any specific moment. He couldn't wait to show MC his appreciation for their little surprise but before that he had to make sure to take a ton of pictures of himself with the writing on him to share on Devilgram. he lowkey started a new trend

Beelzebub

Since MC's room was right next to the kitchen, Beel would often end up in their bedroom in the middle of the night after one of his late snacks and this time was no exception.

After having his fill more like emptying the fridge he decided to pass by MC's room since he felt like seeing them. He slowly opened the door,as to not wake them only to find out they were wide awake, watching a movie. Since he was already there MC invited him over to watch the movie with them and share some of their snacks.

Beel didn't need to be told twice and immediately crossed the room and went to sit next to them on the bed. As the movie went on and the snacks started to disappear, he could feel himself starting to fall asleep. With MC right next to him and with the room being mostly dark, it made it easy for him to fall asleep.

The only reason MC noticed that the demon besides fell asleep was from hearing him snoring. It made for quite the cute and MC decided to play with his hair. As their hand reached his head, Beel grabbed their hand and started to lightly nibble at it.

Quickly MC retracted their hand and got up to pick on of their pens. They were no longer in the mood to finish the movie so they figured it was just the right moment to write something on Beel.

MC gently lifted up Beel's shirt and tried to avoid being grabbed by the sleeping demon. They took a moment to admire his body. It was far from being the first time seeing him like but MC still couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate his body. Since he was the biggest out of all the brothers ment that MC had more space to write all sorts of compliments and words of encouragement. After making sure that his chest and abs were covered in all sorts of messages and small doodles, MC pulled down his shirt and went to sleep like nothing happened.

In morning Beel woke up and left the room while MC was still soundly asleep. He felt bad for falling asleep during the movie, but decided to think of a way to make it up to MC after his morning work out.

When he entered his bedroom he went straight into changing himself into some clothes ment for working out. As he took his shirt off he noticed there was something not only across his chest but across his stomach too. At first he thought he got some food on him from raiding the fridge but when he looked closer he realized there were words written on him.

He took a picture of them and started to read. It didn't take him long to realize it was MC's doing so he didn't waste any second and went back to in their room so he could express how happy he was to wake up with all those compliments on him. He didn't bother to put his shirt back on, there was no need to cover up MC's little surprise for him. imagine waking up by a shirtless beel picking you up in order to hug

Belphegor

MC's room is one, if not his favourite places to sleep in. Not only did he get to sleep surrounded by their scent, but if he got lucky he would get to sleep all cuddled up to MC. It was a win in his book no matter what.

To MC's dismay, he doesn't always announce his presence, so there were quite a few times where MC sat right on top of him without meaning to. To make matters even more difficult for MC, the bastard would require them to cuddle him in order to make up for the hurt that they have caused. If MC didn't know any better, they would think he was doing it on purpose.

Because of that, MC got in the habit to check if there was anyone in their bed before even thinking of trying to get on it. While the habit was a bit weird it finally payed off. There he was, the avatar of sloth in all of his beauty, sleeping and hugging close to his chest one of MC's plushies.

He looked quite adorable in his sleep. you wouldn't believe he was capable of murdering you MC tried to gently shake him awake but he wouldn't budge so they just gave up on the idea all together.

Since it looked he was not going to wake up MC went to pick one of their pens. In a way it was quite ironic that the person that sleeps the most in their room was the last one to get compliments written on him.

MC moved his body so that he would lie on his back. It turned out to be way easier than they would have expected. It honestly felt like Belphie himself moved so MC would have an easier time writing on him.

Lifting his shirt they started by drawing small constellations here and there, followed by some compliments and other cute messages they could think of.

Once satisfied with their work MC tried to get up from the bed when a hand suddenly grabbed. When they looked down they saw Belphie having one of his most insufferable smirks on his face.

At that moment the realization finally hit MC and made them feel quite silly for forgeting such an important detail. Belphie is often aware of what is happening around him while he is sleeping. That's the only reason he has grades high enough to rivale Satan despite doing nothing but sleep during classes. That also explains why he was so easy to move around a few minutes prior.

It was too late to be having regrets tho. MC was being held thightly by Belphegor and they just knew they are about to be teased relentlessly by him.

[under-the-cherrytree]

A Proud Artists Work❣︎

Wally Darling x reader

Summary: looking at Wally’s art work, you feel slightly discouraged about your own. However, Wally quickly finds a way to cheer you up!

Warnings: starts off fluffy but ends a bit yandere-ish

A/n: I HAD TO WRITE A WALLY DARLING SMALL FIC I COULDNT HELP MYSELF!! I LOVE THIS MAN

Well i do hope all the welcome home fans like this!! Enjoy<3

You felt the wind brush up against your cheek as you looked down at your sketchbook in your hand. Your grip on it tightened as you looked around. The neighborhood was surprisingly calming this afternoon. Normally the neighbors would be outside playing but today they didn’t seem to come out of their homes. You watched as the leaves fell from the tree you were sitting under. You leaned up against the wood, taking a breath in.

You turned your head to look at your boyfriend, Wally Darling. He stared at his canvas intensely, focused on every paint stroke he made. His canvas faced you so you couldn’t see what he was painting. He wouldn’t allow you to see what he was creating just yet.

You admired him for his artwork. He was so diligent and his art was breath taking. You wished you were able to draw and paint like he did.

“Darling?” Wally looked over to you, noticing your dull expression. “What’s the matter?”

You sat up, looking away for him and down to the blank paper in your lap.

“Do you really think I’m a good artist?” You asked. He complimented things you have drawn before but a part of you felt like it was forced. Did he just compliment you out of pity?

Wally’s smile dropped slightly as he placed his paintbrush down. You looked up at him as he walked over to you and sat on the grass.

“Of course I do. Why would you question that?” He looked at your sketchbook, noticing it was empty.

“I can’t think of anything impressive to draw”

“Anything you draw will be impressive!” He grabbed a pencil out of pocket “Let’s draw something together!” He leaned in closer to you, starting to sketch an apple on the upper right corner of the paper. You just watched his hand move as he finished up the stem. He just spent a few seconds an apple and it looks amazing. What could you possible draw to impress him?

“Come on! What do you want to draw?” He looked to you. “Draw anything that comes to mind”

You looked up for a moment, trying to get some inspiration. You suddenly noticed a pretty pink flower growing in the grass.

“A flower?” You turned to him.

“Draw it!” He encouraged you. You gripped your pencil as you drew a circle for the base and petals around it.

“It looks great!” He began to add some grass around the flower “You should add a sun” You nodded and smiled softly. This felt nice.

An hour had passed and you two laid on the grass, doodling on the now full page. You two drew different things in nature, different animals, the neighbors, and even Home. You laughed softly seeing how the page was now full with the random doodles from you and your boyfriend.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Wally always knew how to make you feel better when you needed it.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it~?” He gave you a grin “The page is full now”

“Yeah it is” You leaned on his shoulder “Thank you, Wally”

“Anything for you, darling”

Suddenly realization took over you and you remembered there was somewhere you needed to be.

“Oh I have to go!” You stood up, brushing your clothes off “I promised Sally I would meet her at her house to practice a play with her!” You quickly picked up your things, shoving them in your bag.

“Well you better run off, don’t want to leave her waiting” He stood up, holding his hands behind his back.

“See you later!” You waved at him and he blew you a kiss goodbye. He began to pack up his stuff knowing it was time for him to go home too. He carefully picked up the panting he was painting earlier, not wanting to ruin his work. He chuckled softly as he walked back to Home. Home opened the door for him, seeing that Wally’s hands were full.

“Thank you, Home” The puppet placed his paint supplies on the ground. The house squeaked as a way of saying you’re welcome.

“I drew another painting of them…~” He looked down at the colorful canvas. It looked exactly like you. You were leaning up against the tree you two were at, holding your sketchbook. He painted exactly what you looked like in the moment.

He walked down the halls, entering a room of Home. The room was filled with painting of you. Just painting of you.

Each painting you were doing normal activities, not even noticing that a certain painter was using you as his muse.

“This piece would look perfect… here” He hung the painting on an empty spot on the wall. “I like it. What do you think Home?” The house squeaked again.

“Maybe one day I can show them these paintings. I would love to see their reaction. After all, why shouldn’t an artist be proud of their work?”

[rileydylanjamesworld]

By Riley Dylan-James

The first artwork is by @ rosiipilli on twitter, I tried to find the second but I couldn't.

(1195 words)

Anderperry is real and this is an essay on why I think that :D

During the locker room scene Todd is seen to be sat near the window hunched over, seemingly looking at the floor in thought. This is until Neil comes over and clicks him out of his trance, Neil then asks if Todd is going to the study group, which Todd stumbles over some words, which sometimes happens if you like someone, but as he finds his words he looks at Neil's d 3 times, pointing out that Neil has a towel covering him. When todd gives his answer Neil turns towards the group ad Todd looks at his bum (it wasn't casual).

The next time anderperry is shown is when Neil and Todd were talking and Neil wanted Todd to join in, Todd stated that Keating said that everyone took turns reading, Neil then stated that he could still be there if he didn't want to read "what if you just came and listened" Todd then said "thats not how it works" which Neil replied with, happily and encouragingly "forget how it works" this shows that he doesn't care to follow the rules if it makes Todd uncomfortable.

Another important thing to note in this scene is that Neil asked "what if they said it was ok", Todd's response was "what, are you gonna go up and ask them" to which Neil made a suggestive face and jumped up to ask the boys to make the exception. We can see this later on when the poets get to the cave and Neil states that Todd will keep the minutes.

Another time this is obvious to me is when Neil tells Todd about Midsummer, Todd asks what it is to which Neil replies "it's a play dummy", here Neil is very happy and excited about doing the play, at first Todd didn't understand Neil happiness but his face lit up when Neil said "I'm gonna act". Shortly after Todd says "hold on a minute" and starts asking questions such as "how can you be in a play if your father won't let you" and "won't he kill you if he finds out you went to an audition and didn't even tell him", Todd keeps saying logical things and then Neil suddenly snaps thinking that Todd is on his father's side, and the regret as soon as he snaps is as clear as day, he fully regretted snapping at Todd. Todd then says "you say things and people listen (refering to Neil) I'm not like you" to which Neil replies "don't you think you could be" (again, suppoting boyfriend). In this scene Todd also says that he can take care of himself to have Neil reply with the word no, Todd asks "what do you mean no" and Neil repeats himself saying no again but with a smirk (ROBERT SEAN LEONARD THE MAN YOU ARE).

Shortly after Niel is being chased by Todd around their room and Niel says "I'm being chased by Walt Whitman" who was a known queer poet.

After Neil getting the part he funds Todd and they look a bit close in the doorway, Todd looks like ge was gonna lean in for a little kiss, Todd being the supportive friend he is sits on the bed and helps Neil with writing the letter that should be from his dad, as Todd says "you're not gonna write it" Neil makes a weird squawk which Todd laughs off looking at Neil, (flirting).

After we see bagpipes being played near the river which I'm assuming is the place of the deleted scene. In this scene Todd and Neil are practicing Neil's lines where Neil is very energetic which shows his love for acting, which he has been doing his whole life to be the best boy for his dad, and Neil says "god I love it!" To which Todd replies with "what? Me?" (YES YOU! GET MARRIED!) Here it shows that Todd has some feelings for Neil. Also when Neil says "put more into it" it shows how supportive, encouraging, Neil is towards Todd, green flag all round. (Just this whole scene shows they're gay, you can't miss it). Todd and the madman poem is another good example of anderperry because Todd didn't write a poem, Keating helps him write one about Walt Whitman (a known queer poet) being a sweaty toothed madman and when the poem ends the scene lands on Neil who is gobsmacked and staring at Todd, you can't tell me he's heterosexual.

In the scene after while the boys are playing American football you can see a boy jump into another boys arms... that's Todd jumping into Neil's arms.

When Knox calls Chris after hanging up the first time Todd turns to Neil smiling, Neil smiles back very happily and Meeks sees them being gay and supports it.

This is mainly from the book but in a few scens after it is Todd's birthday and Neil spots him sat on the roof, Neil says happy birthday enthusiastically and even though Todd got the same desk set he already has Neil tries to make him happier by saying maybe his parents thought he needed a new one, point is that Neil in this scene is trying EVERYTHING in his power to make Todd happy.

While Charlie is coming back from Nolan office Todd and Neil were talking to each other, probably nothing but just a note.

When Neil is in Keatings office talking about how his father wouldn't let him do the play this can also be a metaphor for gay love because when dead poets was set gay love was frowned upon, and when he says he's trapped this could also be because he loves Todd too.

When Neil is going to the car Todd is following along trying to get Neil's attention and as his dad drives him away the camera pans to keating with Todd in the background staring after the car.

Just after when Neil is at home and the boys are in the cave Todd reads the poem that he was writing earlier on in the film, Neil might have given Todd the confidence from the play.

When Todd finds out that Neil is dead he goes outside and Todd was gagging and just after he runs to the pier where him and Neil were rehearsing lines before in the movie for his play, his final yawp was for Neil.

In a few scenes after when Cameron said that that Neil would be cozied up in his room rn dreaming of being called doctor, Todd butted in nearly shouting "that is not true Cameron" and "Neil loved acting"

To also note a lot of the time when death was mentioned the camera would usually pan to Neil which could suggest that he was suicidal from the very start of the movie.

People say midsummer has queer potential- Anderperry.

Midsummer explores the theme of dreams and implies that the play itself is a dream- Neil's dream to be an actor.

Also they're both in Tape 2001 so don't try and tell me they're not soulmates.

Thank you for reading!

[bullet-prooflove]

From the "The Tortured Poets Department Prompt List: Part One" can I please request prompt #9 "Now, pretty baby I'm runnin' back home to you" for Stuart Scola Please 🙏

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @noxytopy @district447 @stelacole

Companion piece to:

Every Inch Of You (NSFW) - You and Stuart spend the night together after two years apart.

Escapee - You and Stuart are reunited when a face from your past escapes from prison.

Safehouse - You and Stuart discuss moving forward now you're back in NY.

The Life You Could Have - You get a glimpse into the life you could have with Stuart.

Not How It Works - Stuart knows how it never works that way with you.

Stuart has his phone in his hand, his thumb hovering over Jubal’s number when you walk back through the front door. OA lingers a step behind you, his face troubled as you tuck your trembling hands into the pockets of the black hoodie you’re wearing. You don’t look at Stuart, you merely glide past him and into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind you.

“Tell me she can’t get out the window in there.” OA mutters as he takes your service pistol out of the pocket of his windbreaker and sets it down on the table alongside the note Stuart found on the nightstand.

“Not a chance, she’d have to be slenderman.” Stuart reports, staring down at the weapon. “I’m guessing you caught her trying escape over the back fence.”

“She seems to forget I used to be a ranger.” OA responds crossing his arms over his chest. “She gave me a mouthful too, I’ve learned a couple of new words today.”

“She’s frustrated.” Stuart sighs as he leans back against the counter in the kitchen. “She doesn’t have her usual outlets and it makes her… impulsive.”

“I know this is a very tough situation for all of you.” OA states, crossing his arms over his chest. “Which is why I’m overlooking the fact she took her service pistol for a walk.”

There is no doubt in either of their minds what your intention was when you left this morning. It’s by the grace of God that it was OA on duty, a man whose known you almost as long as Stuart has, than any other agent. You seeking out Austin Wallace will only end in two ways, you dead or in prison and Stuart would really like to prevent that if he can.

“Look, I’ll come over later and bring my boxing pads.” OA says, rubbing his palm over the nape of his neck. “I can spar with her in the basement, get her to work off some of that excess energy. That girl, she really needs to hit something right now.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that.” Stuart says, matching OA’s stance. “Now if you could find a way to incorporate that into your schedule three times a week while we’re here, you’ll be getting a coffee of the month membership for the rest of your life.”

“Hopefully it won’t be for long.” OA tries to reassure him. “We think we have a bead on Wallace, he’s reached out to some of the contacts Sasha gave us. They’ve set up a meet for tomorrow.”

OA doesn’t mention what kind of meeting has been set up but Stuart isn’t an idiot. Those contacts of yours, they’re arms dealers, people who specialise in acquiring weapons. Wallace isn’t looking to get out of the country with a new I.D, he wants vengeance on the woman that stole his voice by wrapping a chain around his throat, shattering his voice box.

The scars on his chest begin to itch because there’s a reason you almost killed Austin Wallace, Stuart has a whole artwork of them etched into his skin.

“That should ease her mind a little.” Stuart tells OA as he hears Jack stirring in the other room. He picks up the gun off the table, opening one of the cupboard doors before he places it on the highest shelf, towards the back so his son can’t reach it.

“How about I go deal with Jack?” OA suggests, placing his hands on his hips. “And you can work on getting Sasha out of the bathroom.”

Stuart sighs before shaking his head. He’s been here before with you, the lack of eye contact, the trembling hands, he knows a meltdown when he sees one. He also knows that you need a little space when you get overwhelmed, which is why you’ve turned on the shower as a way of drowning out the rest of the world.

“She just needs some breathing room.” He tells OA as Jack’s bedroom door opens and his son hurtles towards his favourite uncle. “She’ll come out when she’s ready.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 3 - Overture

Word count: 6,733. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Takes place slightly before and through the end Episode 1 Season 1 and during the events of the actual extermination day. TW: canon typical violence and language. Alastor is an ass for most of this chapter but you get brief moments where you can see he's still a simp for his wife, he's just having A BAD DAY.

This AMAZING painting is done by the wonderful lustylita. Please follow her for the best Alastor artwork your eyes will ever feast on. The entire scene in the radio tower was inspired by this image.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 3 - Overture

Present Day

Alastor sat on the balcony of his room, intently watching the road that the lead up to the hotel. He took a sip of his coffee, then checked the time on his pocket watch. This year’s extermination was set to begin in a few minutes and the hotel was short one resident.

Not that he was worried.

Mina had survived several years’ worth of exterminations without him and she was resourceful.

And she certainly knew how to make herself scarce, apparently.

No, he wasn’t concerned exactly but he was definitely agitated.

Likely this was her way of making a point to him about not knowing the whereabouts of one’s spouse during trying times, but he didn’t care for it.

As the residence of a Hellborn, the hotel was a safe haven during exterminations and therefore safe for any of its other permanent residents, including Sinners . . . as long as they stayed away from windows and doorways. Now was not the time to be playing petty games with him. If Mina wanted to continue to be stubbornly cold and distant, she could very well do so in the safety of her own room.

Alastor took another drink, looking every bit on the outside like he hadn’t a care in the world.

He supposed she could have found sanctuary elsewhere.

If his suspicions were correct and she had returned to working for Abaddon, Mina could also still claim her old residence at The Pit. That had been in her previous contract after all; housing, safety, and above all else . . . power.

Alastor sat up and squinted as a figure came into view down the road.

Well, he was almost beginning to hope she wouldn’t show up. It would have been undeniable evidence of what she was up to.

He slipped into shadows and manifested purposefully behind her.

“Playing games now, are we?” he asked, delighting in the way she jumped in her skin, her usually sleek black tail fully fluffed out in agitation that he had managed to startle her.

She huffed at him and continued walking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t,” he said dryly. “It makes perfect sense to be out and about minutes before an extermination day begins.”

“I just needed some fresh air before I have to be cooped up in the hotel all day and night with you.”

“Oh, the horror,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“If you’re so concerned, then why don’t you go back inside? I don’t need an escort just to walk up the drive.”

“An excellent idea, my love,” he said and linked his arm through hers before she could protest.

They turned to shadow together and appeared a second later in the hotel lobby.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Angel announced, surprisingly awake and already with a bottle in his hand. “Or what the deer dragged in . . . the deer dragged the cat in- you know what, never mind.” He took another big gulp from his drink.

“Oh thank God, thank God, thank God,” Charlie said, launching herself around Mina in a bear hug. “We were so worried when no one could find you. Thank goodness Alastor got you back in time!”

“I was already coming up the road,” Mina mumbled and shuffled off to sit next to a very inebriated Angel.

“And where were you, exactly?” Vaggie asked with a hand to her hip. “We’ve been looking for you for the last hour.”

“I told you all we needn’t worry,” Alastor chimed in, once again using his shadow form to transport himself across the room and into the seat on the couch next to Mina, sandwiching her between himself and Angel. “Extermination Day makes everyone a bit restless. So she got a bit carried away while out gathering her thoughts? No harm done.”

Mina looked at him with surprise; she clearly hadn’t expected him to defend her. But he wasn’t about to give the impression to the rest of the hotel residents that he didn’t have the situation under control.

A scream sounded in the far distance, just loud enough to make out, but it was enough to make the mood of the room instantly shift.

A second later, the siren began to shout its annual alarm that the extermination had begun. It had just been too late to warn the first victim.

Alastor felt Mina’s weight shift a little closer to his side. His smile widened, knowing she was never as unfazed by these days as she let on. No one was.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, her eyes suddenly sad and focused on the hotel door. “No harm done.”

____

Alastor wasn’t the type to verbalize his complaints, but inwardly he had to admit, the day was proving to be particularly shitty.

In fact, his entire first week back had been more trying than he had expected. Playing along with Charlie’s childish and naive fantasies had pushed him far out of his comfort zone and the extermination had her seeming extra determined to give them all a wholesome day.

The only upside was that today was the first time since his return that Mina had gone hours without insulting or pestering him. Before his departure, they had enjoyed decades of marital bliss. All that time had allowed him to forget how difficult he found her when they didn’t see eye to eye on things.

Only this time it was worse because Alastor honestly was left feeling a bit bereft at her treatment of him. Nearly a century ago, she had been smart to keep away from him. He had been after her soul, after all. But this time was different. This time, he had no ulterior motives – not with her at least – he was just desperate to have her by his side once again.

Some of the things she had said to him, especially during the first argument in her room, had well and truly hurt his feelings. And that fucking pissed him off. It was one thing to confess to being in love, he had gotten over his reservations with that ages ago. But even to this day, he didn’t care for how easily Mina could control his emotions. It made him feel weak and distracted where once upon a time he had found strength and comfort in her.

And then to start off the day with her up and going missing the way she had was just the icing on the cake. Mina was keeping her own secrets from him, and the audacity of her hypocrisy had his already short supply of patience running on empty.

However, since the extermination had begun, she had been noticeably warmer towards him. It had begun there on the couch, her willingly leaning into his side for comfort. Then she and Niffty had disappeared into the kitchen for a while and brought back breakfast for everyone; some sort of quiche but in the shape of a cupcake that Niffty had called “egg bites.” He had been skeptical at first but then Mina had presented his own special serving, promising she had made his extra spicy, and they had been incredible.

Charlie then insisted on them all participating in some sort of social game she had called “two truths and a lie” so they could all get to know each other. He had been about to excuse himself when Mina had once again settled herself next to and against him. She had even brought him more coffee, knowing full well that he was perfectly capable of summoning it himself, just so she could make a point of being nice.

So he stayed, deciding that it would be a good opportunity to learn more about the other residents and study them. Plus, Vaggie and Husker both looked hilariously uncomfortable with Charlie’s proposition.

As their host had begun to explain the rules of the game, an explosion had gone off, close and large enough that they had all felt the rumbling beneath their feet. Mina had turned in her seat, eyes glued to the front doors, but her hand had gripped onto his bicep and held fast.

“It’s quite alright, Mina,” he had told her. “We’re safe as houses in here.”

Several smaller explosions followed, along with a resounding chorus of screams, and Charlie’s little game was forgotten as everyone sat around in tense silence.

“Well, that was a real buzzkill,” Angel said once the battle outside seemed to push itself deeper into the city center and farther from the hotel.

“Then why don’t we lift the mood a bit, eh my dear?” Alastor said, smiling pointedly at Mina.

She met his gaze but seemed uncertain.

“I don’t know, it’s been a while . . . and I don’t usually do it to make people happy.”

“Nonsense! I’ve seen you command an entire crowd into a jolly good time, you would do perfectly well just giving them a slight suggestion of a more peaceful time.”

“Whattya talking about?” Angel looked confused but he was the only one. It seemed everyone else was already clued into Mina’s ability and were considering the idea.

“You didn’t think the Radio Demon’s own wife was powerless, did you?” Alastor asked, materializing a grand piano with a snap of his fingers. “They don’t call her The Siren for no reason, my friend. She can command your emotions and desires with a simple melody. Her real talent is making a person kill themselves at the sound of her voice but of course she wouldn’t do any of that here.”

“He ain’t kidding, either. Seen her get a dozen demons to turn their guns on themselves and blow their brains out,” Husker said and then chuckled. “Gotta admit, it was pretty a good night.”

“Yeah, sounds super fun. Just the kind of thing we need today,” Vaggie deadpanned.

“Vaggie,” Charlie said, “Alastor said it wouldn’t be like that. Plus, I trust Mina. She would never do anything to hurt us.”

“You wont regret it,” Alastor said, appearing at Charlie’s side and holding her by the shoulders. “It’ll be more soothing than the smoothest whiskey Hell has to offer. Calm your nerves in no time at all. Mina?” He said her name with a suggestive gesture towards the piano, inviting her to begin.

 “If you insist,” Mina said and took her seat, “Did you have anything in mind?”

“You’re the professional,” Alastor said but Charlie clapped her hands.

“Oooh, ooh, I hope you know this one, it’s a bit after your time but-“ and she bent over and whispered something into Mina’s ear.

Mina feigned offence. “I’m hurt you would assume otherwise. Not all of us are stuck in the past,” she said, giving Alastor a teasing look.

She began playing and the soft, happy melody filled the room. It wasn’t one Alastor recognized but he had to admit, it wasn’t awful. Mina was a talented pianist, and it was rare that she chose a tune when he prompted her for one that he didn’t like.

Then she began to sing and the magic really took shape.

“I want to live where soul meets body

And let the sun wrap its arms around me

And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing

And feel, feel what it’s like to be new . . .”

The first time he had heard her sing, Alastor had been convinced she was working a spell on him. Her voice was truly the most enticing he had ever heard. There had been plenty of female musicians he had respected and admired in life and in Hell but never had one made him feel the way she had. But that was just her sheer talent.

When she sang and brought her magic into it, the difference was obvious. There was no longer any individual thought of his own solidifying in his mind, nothing left of himself but whatever her siren voice commanded. It was the difference between infatuation and someone taking complete and utter control over your faculties.

Nothing would unsettle and bother him more if it was anyone else doing this to him. But Mina had never used her power over him without his consent and he had quickly learned to admit, it was the most affective drug to settle one’s nerves. And with his own power being far greater than hers, he knew he could withstand a mental attack if he ever truly fought against it. Vox had given him the opportunity to test that theory ages ago, and the rival Overlord had far stronger powers of hypnosis than his wife.

The song ended and the spell lifted but the sense of tranquility still lingered in the room’s atmosphere. All of the guests, even Niffty, looked completely blissed out.

“Jesus toots, I feel like I need a cigarette after that,” Angel said, his head lulled onto the back of the couch, and each of his six limbs limp at his sides.

Mina stood up from the piano and bit her lip as she looked around.

“Maybe I went a little too hard on them.”

“Au contraire, ma chér,” Alastor said, putting an arm around her waist, “I think it was just right.”

Indeed, the following few hours had passed nicely, allowing him to enjoy Mina’s good mood while it lasted and tolerate each and every one of Charlie’s silly forms of entertainment.

Eventually, though, due to the limited nature of her powers of hypnosis, the charm had worn off and when it did, he was more aggravated than ever. The occasional sounds of turmoil outside were the least of his problems compared to the personal Hell he was finding himself in within the walls of the hotel.

Mina’s social battery had worn out long before his and she had retreated to her room. He sent his shadow in to check on her every now and then, but found she was being sincere, rather than trying to sneak off again. She was tucked under the covers of her bed with a novel in her hand, only slightly changing positions every time he spied on her.

He should be relieved, but it just bothered him more that she felt she could simply excuse herself to do something as selfish as read while he was left playing the extroverted hotel manager. The least she could do was play another song to keep the rest of the staff more subdued. A song an hour was not that much to ask of her on a day like today, and yet she had retreated from everyone like a senseless wallflower.

Charlie was on the verge of hysteria, Vaggie and Husk were taking turns on who could be the most Negative Nancy, and Angel wouldn’t stop making leud inuendoes at everyone’s expense. Truly, by the time dusk had settled, the only person Alastor wasn’t ready to kill if it meant five minutes of peace and quiet was Niffty.

He decided enough was enough and as soon as the opportunity came where no one was paying attention to him, he slipped into his shadow form and left for his radio tower. If he couldn’t leave the hotel, at least he could get some work done.

____

Mina crawled out from her covers and went to her bedroom window, peering out over the city below.

The extermination was still going strong, more than 12 hours in. She let the curtain fall in disgust.

She knew she shouldn’t have excused herself when she had, but she was so mentally exhausted she just couldn’t take it anymore. It had gotten to the point where it was impossible for her to focus on anything, so she had left. When she became overwhelmed in social settings, she got pissy. And she was really trying to make an effort to not be pissy with Alastor, at least on this particular day.

Mina sighed, knowing she should probably return the favor of checking in on him. Although she had pretended not to notice, she was aware every time his shadow slunk into her room to make sure she was alright.

Either that, or he was making sure she was staying put. Her fault for getting home stupidly late this morning, once again on a job up on Earth she thought she could take care of overnight. But really, whatever Alastor suspected, did he really think she was going to leave the hotel while the extermination was still happening?

She headed out to find him and quickly found the other residents still gathered in the lobby, though it was evident Alastor wasn’t among them. Niffty hadn’t seen him either, so in preparation of finding him holed up in his own room, she grabbed him a glass of rye from the bar as a peace offering. But his room was very much empty and that left her one last logical place to look; the new radio tower he had added to the hotel. Mina left the glass on a table in the room and left.

He hadn’t invited her up there yet, so she had avoided going up there on principle but if he was really there tonight, she had to make sure he was okay.

After giving a soft knock on the door to announce her presence, Mina stepped into the room and stared in stunned silence at what she saw.

Alastor was using a laptop.

His jacket and monocle were off and his hair was pulled back into a tight knot in the back, meaning he was fulling engaged in his task and incredibly over stimulated by it. The state of his disarray meant he would be in an extra irate mood, but she had always found the distressed look on him incredibly attractive. When he let his guard down it was for her eyes, and her eyes alone, and it showed his level of trust in her. Plus, it was just plain hot.

But the shock of seeing him using such modern technology was more than enough to distract her from her lustful thoughts.

“Alastor?”

“Hmmm,” he responded, not bothering to look up from his task.

“Just making sure it’s actually you.”

“Very funny.”

He wasn’t telling her to get out, so she slowly approached him, noticing an image of the hotel on the screen of the laptop. His hand hovered over the keyboard rather than touching it and the green glow of his magic ebbed and flowed as the image shifted around.

“What are you doing up here?”

“I’m  . . . fuck,” he hissed through his strained smile and pinned his ears back. The laptop screen flickered to black for a second and when it came back on, the program he had been trying to use had clearly crashed. “I’m working on something. Someone around this Hell forsaken place should be.”

Mina put a hand on his shoulder and he tensed beneath her fingers but didn’t shrug her off.

“Can you do whatever this is downstairs? I don’t like you up here, it’s not safe right now.”

“I’m fine,” he said and this time he did push her hand off.

Mina crossed her arms and looked down at him, her tail swishing in agitation behind her.

“Al, please. You can have as much solitary confinement as you want in your room, to do whatever this is, where an angel is far less likely to break through the glass and exterminate you.”

“No one but you is annoying enough to bother me up here,” he mumbled, still not turning to look at her.

“Oh, I’m annoying now?”

“Yes, terribly so.”

“Well better annoying than dead! Not even the great Radio Demon is immune to an exterminator’s blade so you get your arrogant, narcissistic, egotistical ass downstairs unless you plan on disappearing for good this time.”

Alastor slammed the laptop shut and Mina was shocked it didn’t break in half from the force. He stood and as she blinked, he was back in his normal attire; jacket perfectly in place and hair down, though it was more frazzled than usual.

“And would that make you happy, my dear?” He sneered; eyes turned to dials as his temper began to take over. “I may be all those things and more but you have been nothing less than a cold, stubborn, secretive, hypocritic little shrew since I’ve returned.”

She glared back up at him, a solid head taller than her even if he hadn’t quite begun to morph into his full demon form.

“Sit down,” she said.

He tilted his head. “Pardon?”

“Sit,” she repeated, pointing a claw at his chair. Then after a beat she added, “Please.”

He complied and returned to his normal visage, though the upper half of his face was still stuck in a deep scowl.

Without invitation, Mina set herself in his lap and kissed him.

Alastor went rigid at first but as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself tighter against him, she felt him relax beneath her.

He began to kiss her back in earnest and she felt his hands tighten around her waist, his claws digging into the flesh of her upper thighs.

It was the first real moment of intimacy between them besides the quick kiss he had given her on the first night of his return. She parted her lips and he responded well, and as his tongue met hers she felt the vibration of a purr beginning in the back of her throat. It was undeniable at this moment how much she had missed him and how starved for his affection she was, and it caused her near physical pain to pull away when she did.

“Let me be absolutely clear,” she panted, still holding onto the sides of his face “I am still very upset. It’s taking all of my self-control not to lash out at any given second with you. But I’m also still madly, desperately in love with you, and am not about to lose you all over again. So please,” she pressed a kiss to his forehead, “get your precious, infuriating tail downstairs where I can remain angry without also having to worry for you.”

Alastor’s smile dropped into a thin line and for a moment he looked so sad. It was such a foreign expression on his face that Mina almost didn’t recognize it for what it was and then in a moment, it was gone, replaced by the wide, sharp-toothed smile she was used to.

She could tell he was trying to come up with another stinging remark, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, a bright flash of yellow light lit up the room. He turned his gaze to peer at something behind her and Mina stood and turned as well, looking out the large window at the destruction happening outside.

A horde of angels had come within a few hundred yards of the hotel and one of them was armed with some sort of light-wielding weapon and using it on a fleeing group of Sinners. Several angels broke free from their arial assault and descended on what was left of the scattering crowd, their spears glinting in the dim light, even at this distance.

How was this not blasphemous? Angelic beings straight from Heaven getting to kill in the name of their cause while she had been sent to Hell for simply doing what she had to do to survive. And what of it if she had enjoyed it? These angels were doing far worse than she ever had while she was alive, and they clearly had as much lust for violence as she did.

“Darling,” Alastor said, standing up from behind her, “I believe we were in the middle of something.”

“I know, it’s just,” Mina said, eyes still glued to the scene of carnage below them, “I hate them. So much. I just-“

Another flash of light from whatever that horrible weapon was and Mina felt Alastor grab her arm.

“Time to go,” he said and felt the familiar light weight feeling of his shadow before she was being pulled down.

They were back in his room in an instant but he was no longer beside her. Rather, she was left standing in the middle of the normal portion of the room while he had materialized a full work bench and seat in his bayou, his focus already seemingly back on his work.

Mina knew it was just an act. He was just as affected as she was, he was just better at shutting it out, but she still hated him for it in that moment. How could he keep going like this, just pretending he wasn’t in just as much pain and turmoil as she was? She wanted to scream at him, claw at him, make him beg to take her back, make him show her that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.

And why couldn’t she set her own pride aside for one night? She should go to him, tell him that none of it mattered, that she forgave him as long as he was still hers, and continue on with the kiss she had given him up in his tower. He could take her and fuck her right there on the floor of his room and it would be like none of the pain of tonight or the last seven years had ever happened.

But that wouldn’t be like either of them.

Intimacy was a struggle with Alastor. He always had to be in the exact right state of mind for it to be of interest to him. Only then would he let his guard down. Only then, could he be soft and sweet with her. And as much as her body ached for that side of him, Mina’s heart was still too bruised to give him what he would need in order to fulfill both of their desires. She could do it; the moment they had shared a minute ago had proved he was still susceptible to her advances, but it would mean letting him believe she trusted him again. And that was the crux of their situation. He demanded trust from her when, right now, she had almost none to give.

With regret, Mina grabbed the whisky glass she had left on the dresser before and walked towards him, setting it beside him without a word.

As she turned away, she saw from the corner of her eye his confused glance at the glass.

“Mina,” he said her name with the same trace of regret she felt but rather than give in, she simply walked out the door and let it shut behind her.

____

The morning came and with it, the end of the extermination. It had raged well into the evening hours, but it had given Alastor the opportunity he needed to complete his task. As deplorable as he found working with this kind of technology, it needed to be done to set the next part of his plan in motion, and it was a welcome distraction from his personal problems.

He couldn’t be wrapped up in his exasperation with having to make this blasted commercial and succumb to his turmoil over the state of his marriage. He simply didn’t have the emotional capacity for all of that at once. So, he had chosen one over the other and figured he would deal with the consequences in the morning.

Thankfully, Mina had seemed to resign herself to at least being cordial in front of the other residents. If she was still smarting from his abrupt dismissal of her advances the night before, she was being classy enough to act as if all was well when they had an audience. Perhaps today would be a better day, after all.

She had easily agreed to join the others in the lobby for his presentation and as the commercial began, it quickly became evident she was the only one who appeared entertained by his efforts.

Could she tell he had purposefully done an awful job? He couldn’t be certain, but she was failing to totally suppress a grin and as she made eye contact with him, there was a kind of familiar knowing in her look.

That shared glance between them meant more to him than the rather passionate kiss she had given him the night before.

As the commercial ended, so did their moment, and he focused his attention back to where it needed to be.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, acting for all the world as if he expected Charlie and Vaggie to be pleased, which of course they weren’t.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?” the loud little one began, followed by Charlie’s pathetic attempt to smooth things over. If she was really going to rule Hell and be the powerful force he would eventually need her to be, she really needed to work on her authoritative tone.

“Bad, the word you’re looking for is bad,” Vaggie interrupted.

“Funny, I was going for hilarious.”

Mina failed to stifle a chuckle and Vaggie turned her head to glare at her. “It’s not hilarious.”

Mina just raised an eyebrow at her.  

“Ugh, of course you’re on his side,” Vaggie huffed and turned her frustration back on Alastor. “It didn’t even explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point.”

Charlie started up again and the three of them went back and forth for a minute, Alastor purposefully riling Vaggie up until she was on her feet on the couch, trying to add height to her indignation.

“You been here a week and you – both of you,” she exclaimed, pointing dramatically at Alastor and then Mina, “are supposed to be helping, and instead you’re mocking us.”

“Oh don’t drag me into this,” Mina said, crossing her arms, “I got Charlie that spot on the news and that would have been plenty helpful if she had done a decent job of it.”

“And you don’t think we find it suspicious that the news spot you got her is what supposedly got Alastor’s attention, huh? After you made such a big deal about looking for him?” Vaggie countered.

Alastor’s smile grew as he watched the tension between the women in the room grow even more.

Mina’s ears pinned themselves out to the side as she eyed the petite demon up and down.

“You don’t want to go there with me, love. Trust me.”

“You want me to trust you?!” Vaggie exclaimed, “Then get him to fix that disaster of a commercial because no one is going to want to come to a place that a powerful Overlord like him thinks is a waste of time.”

Vaggie sat back down and Alastor was just considering if the time had come to make his move when Angel raised a hand.

“What?!” Vaggie snapped.

“If in ya filming a commercial, can I suggest you take advantage of the talented celebrity you got right here?”

“Angel, you’re a porn star,” Vaggie said unimpressed and as they bantered, Alastor slithered his shadow form across the room to reappear closer to the cause of further discourse, just in time for Angel to predictably suggest that he make a sex tape with him.

“Aha! Never going to happen.”

“Will you stop hitting on my husband?” Mina said, all traces of her previous good mood gone as Vaggie and Angel unintentionally got on her last nerve.

“There’s no need to be jealous, baby,” Angel said, “You could join in. I usually charge extra for girls but if it’s in the name of helping out the hotel, I’ll give you a freebie.”

Mina growled as she stomped over to where the spider demon lay sprawled across the couch.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Angel held up all four hands in submission, “I’m just kidding around, no need to get violent.”

“I swear,” she said, a finger pointed right in his face, “come onto either of us one more time an’ I’ll cauterize every single one of those holes you use to make a livin’.”

“Jesus, Alastor, your missus is a little tense,” Angel said, brave enough to turn away from the angry feline to look up at the deer demon who was clearly enjoying the chaos. “You really haven’t fucked her since you got back, have ya?"

Before Mina could react, Alastor whisked them both away via shadow back to Charlie and Vaggie’s side of the room. Her jealousy was never sourced from an insecurity of Alastor’s faithfulness to her, but rather from feeling disrespected by anyone who would dare tread on her territory. The feeling was mutual, and they had both had their moments in the past where someone’s leud comment got the better of them, but now was not the time or place for violence.

Thankfully putting the space between her and Angel, as well as keeping a well-placed hand around her hips, created an instant calming affect the hot-headed Irish woman.

They watched together as Charlie attempted to diffuse the situation more and Angel just continued making suggestive comments, though they were at least self-deprecating now.

Then, right on cue, Charlie’s phone went off and she dismissed herself to talk to her father.

“Hey, I have question,” Angel said, finally changing the subject away from his body parts. “If freaky-face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?”

“Oh, trust me,” Alastor laughed, before quickly extending his antlers, “I can.”

Before he could truly revel in the look of fear on their faces and the look of delight on Mina’s, Husker decided to put in his two cents, and it started another round of Angel’s inappropriate and pointless flirting. It only came to an end when Vaggie stepped in, making the point that Sinners were supposed to choose the hotel.

“Well whatta ‘bout her?” Angel asked, gesturing towards Mina, “can’t she just go downtown and sing one of her trippy little tunes to get people feeling like they want to be better people?”

Vaggie groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Absolutely not. What is it about the concept of choice that you aren’t getting?”

Alastor watched with amusement as the drunkard and the self-righteous continued to clash, not failing to notice that Mina had fully calmed down and had stepped away, trying to subtly eavesdrop on Charlie’s phone call. His wife’s instincts were still sharp as ever as to what was really worth paying attention to. It impressed and excited him. As long as he couldn’t explain anything to her himself, he needed Mina to be on her toes and trying to work things out on her own.

Lucifer must have finally wrapped things up – honestly how long did it take to ask a simple favor – because Charlie had pulled Vaggie aside, then quickly bounded out of the hotel and down the street, as Mina curiously watched the whole scene unfold.

It was time for the real fun of the day to begin.

____

Once they were done filming the commercial and were waiting for Charlie’s return, Mina took the opportunity to talk in private with Vaggie.

“Alastor made a deal with you, didn’t he?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Vaggie asked.

Mina knew he had purposefully done an awful job with the original commercial he created. He didn’t take the hotel any more seriously than she did, but he was a showman at heart and would have easily been able to come up with something more convincing than that if he had actually been trying.

She could tell immediately he was toying with them, drawing Charlie in with the idea of the commercial, but then not fully delivering until he got something in return. Then suddenly he and Vaggie returned to the lobby and the plan was a go.

So Mina ignored Vaggie’s question, not liking the implication that Alastor hadn’t let her in on his plan. True, he was hiding a lot from her, but this just all felt so painfully obvious, she didn’t feel the need to be clued in beforehand.

“What were the terms of the deal?”

“Well, that’s the weird part,” Vaggie said, “it wasn’t a big deal. He just said he would help film a decent commercial if I promised to not make him do any TV related stuff in the future.”

“Huh,” Mina said, already forming theories in her head and turned to walk away.

“Wait,” Vaggie stopped her, “you don’t think it’s more than that, right?”

Mina paused, knowing she was at a crossroads. She could do things Alastor’s way and dismiss Vaggie’s concern and pretend nothing was wrong. But Vaggie was likely too smart for that, and it would ultimately cause more distrust between them. The other option was to display just enough honesty to make it appear Mina really was on her side. If Alastor was being even a little honest with Mina, then it was true he needed to gain Charlie’s trust to get along with whatever plan of his he was concocting. And Mina seemed to have figured out before Alastor had that Vaggie was the real path to gaining Charlie’s trust.

Mina made a show of sighing and looking defeated.

“Vaggie, look, you’re a smart girl. And despite you clearly having a problem with me since day one, I respect you. So, I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t know what Alastor’s planning, but I do know him. And he never makes a simple deal, there’s always a catch. It’s either going to benefit himself more than he’s letting on or it’s going to hurt you more than he’s letting on. Sometimes both.” Mina put a hand on Vaggie’s shoulder and did her very best to look concerned. “Just promise me, if he tries making another one, you’ll tell me about it before you agree to anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Vaggie agreed, “And hey, I know things got a little tense before . . . I guess I shouldn’t have tried accusing you-“

“It’s fine,” Mina smiled, “water under the bridge.”

Later, even when they had a moment alone, she didn’t confront him about the deal. It almost certainly had something to do with Vox. Either he was using the deal to protect the hotel from Vox’s reach or he would use the deal in the future so that Vaggie couldn’t force him to get involved if Vox were to ever jeopardize the hotel in a way Alastor thought he could benefit from.

Mina decided it was best for now to sit with her theories as a test to see how well she could predict Alastor’s next moves. She surprised herself when she realized she still trusted him with her safety; because no matter what the intentions of his little deal with Vaggie were, she knew it wouldn’t bring any harm to herself.  

As they came down the staircase into the lobby together, Alastor burst her little bubble.

“You know about the deal, don’t you?” he whispered.

Mina just smiled.

“I see your need for attention can still win out over your need for secrecy.”

He huffed. “I wasn’t keeping the deal a secret; I’m just surprised you haven’t asked me about it.”

“Hmm,” she shrugged, “I guess I didn’t find it that interesting.”

That clearly was a blow to his ego, and he sulked in silence the rest of the way into the lobby, choosing a solitary chair rather than being close to her.

Charlie arrived home and Vaggie pulled her to join them in front of the television set. The commercial began to air when an emergency broadcast cut it short.

Mina sat in shock as Katie Killjoy announced the coming arrival of the next extermination.

Just six months away? They were cutting the time between their slaughter in half?

The other residents were just as outraged as her.

Everyone except Charlie and Alastor.

Rather than continuing to watch the TV screen, Mina studied their faces and came to the sinking realization they both already knew about this.

She quickly worked out Charlie must have just found out at the meeting with the angels she had been at all day but Alastor?

How the fuck did he know?

Next Chapter ->