#it’s just… solidified now.

[hum--hallelujah]

maybe this is just coming a place of my first and foremost favorite FOB song is Hum Hallelujah but i really do feel like Infinity on High is a blue album because of that. Hum Hallelujah is the touchstone. it’s the thesis statement. and it’s the backdrop: stages are often backlit in blue. Infinity on High is an album that is incredibly honest about the effect that life onstage, constantly performing for others, for better or worse (‘til tonight do us part’) can have, and it is entirely backlit in flickering parking lot streetlights. do you understand me?

[lilybug-02]

You’re making a lot of promises there Chara…

Part 24 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

I enjoyed doing this little Flashback scene. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled freakout session soon. Having monochrome color is very nice.

Here is a gif of Chara spilling their water because YES. And I spent way too long on it :)

Wow technology is so cool.

[ruporas]

i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.

[starry-bi-sky]

fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ

(First Post Here and Second Post Here

--------

Danny finds Sam easily.

She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 

("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)

("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")

(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")

(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")

("Thanks, Danny.")

He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.

Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.

His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 

(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)

Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."

"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.

As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.

He wasn't that arrogant.

...Anymore.

"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.

"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."

Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"

Danny immediately frowns.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."

Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.

Oh.

Danny knows that tone too.

Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  

Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.

But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 

Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.

It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."

She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."

"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."

He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.

"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."

Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."

She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."

"Such violence, Sam."

He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.

Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 

He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 

"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"

As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 

Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."

Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."

"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."

Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.

(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)

(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)

(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)

(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 

He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 

He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 

When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 

Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 

“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan

He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 

Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 

Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 

Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 

“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 

Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 

Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 

There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 

His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 

Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”

“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 

“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 

Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.

Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.

[cherrirui-official]

"You know... You didn't have to take that with you."

"But I promised him I'd take him out to see the ocean one day."

[trauma-bot]

sin eater

[skaluli]

my little fortress : fighting is magic scout + bonus sniper

(top left is my concept/ideas for snipers cutiemark ill make a final design one day

these 3 thingys are from a while ago

[versias]

A Haunt is Where the Heart Is

The first time Bruce encountered Phantom, he was bleeding from a stab wound to the side that had missed both vital organs and armor.

“That looks bad.” The voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper.

The shape was barely more than an outline of a person; for a moment, Bruce worried he’d been dosed with some kind of hallucinogenic in the knife. It looked around before it shifted more into the visual range. At the same time, it drifted closer.

“Stop,” Batman growled. Then demanded: “Who are you.”

They became more and more real, and he could now see the fine-boned facial features, the grown-out hair in a shocking white, and glowing green eyes. White lashes swept down as it (they?) blinked, answering, “Phantom.”

“Is that ‘who’ or ‘what’?”

They smiled, a mischievous little light dancing in their eyes. “Bit of both, actually.”

“My wound isn’t bad enough to kill me,” Batman denied.

The being giggled, a noise that sounded like twinkling stars and made something squirm in his chest.

“I’m not a psychopomp, dude. Just trying to offer some help. I like to keep people in the world of the living.”

They knelt down, setting their gaze level with the injury, giving him the choice of accepting or not.

Tilting their head back to look up into his face, they said, “Let me help?”

He wasn’t so hurt that he couldn’t get back to the cave. But the mystery of the being was enough to keep him in the alley, stepping closer. He needed more data.

(It had nothing to do with the image of a beautiful person on their knees for him, though he might think about it later. Maybe.)

———

The next time they crossed paths, Phantom’s hair was longer. It floated freely, drifting in some ethereal wind as the being floated, parallel to the ledge.

Bruce let his boot scrape the gravel as he approached.

Phantom didn’t look. Their eyes were fixed on the sky. The blackout had coincided with a break in the perpetual cloud cover. A glittering blanket shone above and Phantom sparkled in the starlight like they were one of the stars. They were glowing the brightest they’d ever been.

“I never thought I’d get to see the stars here.” They breathed. Awe colored their voice.

Bruce glanced up. It was beautiful, but he had to admit that he preferred the shining lights of the city. Gotham was a city of shadows; without the light, the shadows didn’t dance.

He didn’t say that, though. Not when Phantom’s ecstasy was so obvious. It made him want to see the sky the way the ghost did.

“Did you come up here just to hang out with me?”

Batman grunted. “What do you know about the Park Row murders?”

There were always murders in Crime Alley, but the string of brutal killings had the hallmarks of a new serial killer.

Phantom gave him a Look.

“Want me to ask the victims? Or are you assuming all ghosts know each other, Batman?”

Batman leveled an unimpressed look at them.

“Ugh, how’d you even know I was looking into it?”

Characteristic snow pattern in security camera footage.

“I’m Batman.”

“Yeah, whatever,” they waved a lazy hand like a king dismissing their court. “I haven’t learned much. The shades of ghastly deaths like that aren’t very coherent. I can stabilize them a little, but I don’t like to do that—it prolongs their suffering, you know? Mostly, I’m just trying to help them cross over. Everything I hear is incidental.”

“Anything could help.”

Phantom tells him what they’ve heard. It is scattered and some of it might be the final delusions of the dying, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Centering the victims in his mind helps him. It also helps to hear that Phantom helped them reach some kind of peace.

“Thought you weren’t a psychopomp.”

Phantom blew a raspberry at him.

Bruce suppressed a smirk.

———

Adrenaline was still pumping through him when Phantom swept back into the room, the casing of a bomb held in one hand and the actual explosive material in the other. Just in time; Batman had finished laying out the private security hired to keep them out.

“Figured I’d just make it so the bomb couldn’t, you know, explode.”

The sound he made was an approving hum, reverberating in his chest as he stepped closer to the ghost. Normally, the cold wafting off Phantom helped bring him down when the action was over. But Phantom looked up at him through their long white lashes, playful as always. It hit his gut like a physical blow.

Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, because Phantom’s green eyes widened in surprise. Bruce swallowed the immediate anxiety, the fear of being known, and let himself reach for Phantom. They caught his hand and entwined their fingers.

“Got somewhere to put explosives?” They whispered.

“I do,” he rumbled.

“Do I get to come with you?” Excitement made their eyes sparkle.

No, I get to come with you.

———

The Batcave does have somewhere for explosives, but unfortunately there wasn’t a comfortable place for the other reason Bruce brought Phantom back with him. He considered bringing them up to his bedroom, then dismissed the thought. He was thinking with his dick, not his head. No revealing secrets while high on adrenaline and drowning in a beautiful person.

Thankfully, Phantom didn’t seem to mind when he sat at the chair before the computer and pulled them into his lap. The first press of lips to his own made him shiver. He opened his mouth and accepted the cool, slick tongue. The contrast between his own hot mouth made Phantom moan, something between pain and pleasure.

Bruce pressed his forehead against theirs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” they said. “It doesn’t hurt much; it’s just like stepping into a hot bath. And I don’t mind a little roughness.”

“You know, it occurs to me I never asked… what should I call you? I mean, pronouns-wise.”

Phantom threw their head back and laughed. Bruce resisted the urge to nip at the exposed throat.

“I use he, usually,” he said. “And please call me Danny. You?”

Bruce swallowed, looking for the right words, but Danny was quick to reassure, “No need to share your name, man. I’m in the enviable position of not having a life to disrupt if my secret identity is discovered. I’m not gonna scream ‘Batman’ though. He/him for you? Is ‘B’ okay?”

Relief. “It is. It’s perfect.”

Then he considered the rest of what he’d said. Not having a life, but didn’t deny a secret identity. Interesting. But not relevant, at the moment.

“So you’re a screamer?” His hands drifted down Phantom’s sides and around his thighs.

Phantom snickered, “Maybe. You know, if you can make me.”

It wouldn’t be easy to keep up with undead vigor, but he couldn’t back down from a challenge like that.

Bruce vowed to make him hoarse.

———

They slept together many more times after that. Phantom did get to see his bedroom and met Alfred (who referred to Danny endearingly as ‘Master Bruce’s young man’). Bruce made sure Danny knew he had somewhere safe to return to when he needed it.

He didn’t let it go further. Partly, it was about Batman. Working together once or twice was alright, but Batman couldn’t afford to have a partner. How could he ask Danny to shoulder Gotham’s darkness with him? Force him to watch Bruce throw himself into danger every night on an impossible quest?

He was already breaking Alfred’s heart. He couldn’t do the same thing to someone else. He loved Danny too much to do it to him.

God, Bruce loved Danny Phantom.

Bruce loved the way Phantom curled around him in sleep. Loved the way he arched his back and cried when he was close to orgasm. Loved how he floated a bit when he talked about space. Loved how he could always tell what Bruce needed to say, even when it got mangled between his brain and mouth.

Yet.

Phantom wasn’t… alive. Not in the way Bruce was, at least. It didn’t seem fair to ask him to stay, to spend the rest of Bruce’s life tied to him. It wasn’t like they could grow old together. Bruce would age and Phantom wouldn’t, frozen in death. Whatever power allowed him to manifest in the physical realm shouldn’t be wasted on something so… domestic as a boyfriend. A husband.

Bruce loved Danny. He nestled somewhere in his heart, fluttering against his pulse. He could keep him there without chaining him to his side. It was enough.

It had to be.

———

Danny told him he needed to attend to his duties in the Infinite Realms. He looked resigned.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Time gets weird in the Zone. I’ll come back, though. Promise.”

Danny kissed him goodbye.

Bruce tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be forever.

It felt like a lie.

———

Bruce found Dick Grayson. He tucked him under his wing. Held on too tight and pushed him away.

———

Bruce found Jason. Failed him, again and again.

———

Tim found Bruce. He didn’t deserve him, but he wasn’t leaving. It ached.

———

Bruce’s family grew, children and cousins alike gathering under the banner of the Bat. Sometimes it felt right, to stand with them and fight for a better future. Sometimes Bruce felt like he was losing his mind, losing his grip on the situation and reality. He watched his children get hurt and get back up and get knocked down again. Sometimes, it was like seeing himself. Sometimes it was alien and horrible, and he was trapped in a nightmare.

He had lovers. Women, mostly. Selina, who came and went like an alley cat, disappearing whenever she pleased.

Talia, deadly and divine in equal measure, with a touch of death about her.

He didn’t need Alfred’s knowing glances to pick up the common thread, thank you.

He was pining, not in denial.

———

Damian showed up on his doorstep, haughty and whole and real. His flesh and blood, ten years old. This was the first time he’d ever even heard of Talia having a child.

What the fuck.

———

Jason came back from the dead, dripping with rage.

Bruce wished Danny was here. He’d know what to do. He always did.

[maareyas]

Not as comprehensive design-wise as Silver was, but here's my take on a merhog Shadow ✨ Still some sort of half-alien experiment, but now his Chaos energy is just plain old nuclear radiation.

An aggressive merhog who haunts the remains of a deep sea research facility after an explosion wiped it out. He's the only one who can survive being in the exclusion zone, so it's been difficult for him to find new friends. (and food, but he's surviving off the radiation well enough)

[sysig]

I think the world is so wonderful... (Patreon)

[fixationrambles37]

YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT LOU FERRIGNO JR USED BILL AND FRANK FROM TLOU AS INSPIRATION FOR BUCKTOMMY!!

Oh this ship is SO going to be endgame now!

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[tricoufamily]

how many times can i remake these sims

[sholmeser]

ary scheffer / justus knetch / snake & ocelot

[casualavocados]

Is that guy your type? Huh? You let him hold you. He was drunk. And he has a lover. Didn't you see? I'm not that easy, okay? ...What about me? [...] It was only a one-night thing.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10

[signed-sapphire]

Heyyyy darling @oh-shtars I have finished your DTIYS!

You are in luck because I likely would not have finished this if I had not been struck with a drawing fever at 3am today

(It is currently 3:33am… a lovely time to be on Tumblr)

But nevertheless! Here is my take on your Ashueño meet cute!

I actually coloured it! I used the reference colours for Sueño and sort of made the assumption that his hair was glowing. Bonus if you know what the other light source is

I tried to make Sueño as scared as possible, after all this is the third human he’s met, and the first two Mother Gothel’d him bad. He is terrified that she might do something to him. I just love brutally traumatized boys 😇

For Asha, I tried to make her expression more surprised and shocked than afraid. After all, she’s the servant to Magnifico and Amaya, and I’m sure she’s seen magic around. Plus… this weird, glowing young man was kind of cute. There’s no coloured sheet of her Act I outfit but I tried my best based off of the royal couple’s colours

Original image and timelapse below the cut!

Fun fact, this was the first finished art piece I signed with my new name! I quite like it :3