#anyway there's going to be some fun things to draw in the next several pages :>

[undertalethingems]

Unexpected Guests Chapter Ten: Page 13

First / Previous / Next

Gaster's caught back up with Frisk, and he won't let anyone get in his way... But Toriel can give as good as she gets. Gaster's quickly learning this 'simple procedure' has a lot more complicating variables... And he's just made on of them very, very angry.

I really would have liked to get one more page done for this update, but alas--you'll just have to see how things go down in the next update, coming May 11th!

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 6

wc: 2.8k

genre: slowburn, best friends to lovers, painful tooth rotting fluff

pairing: Audrey x Ben, eventual Ben x daughter of alice!reader

warnings: ben's deeply repressed feelings looming ominously in the distance, audrey being an absolute bitch but what's new, op fixing the lore with nail glue and packing tape, Evie is a fucking icon as always

summary: After a long day fighting your way through a mountain of paperwork, you find yourself unable to sleep. Sneaking into ben's room always does the trick. Mal can't find a love spell in her spell book, but she finds something that should work almost as well.

song recs: spring fever - sub urban

a/n: the one thing that pisses me off is that there is no canonical use of love spells in the disney universe outside of descendants. they literally don't exist. genie says no making someone fall in love with someone else. you'd think they would know their own lore /lh

anyway fangz to cici as always (i am so sorry about buggy) and also as always, an optional fit for your viewing pleasure

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

You spend the next several hours by Ben’s side as you bounce between various meetings, and of course, your etiquette lessons that you’ve been attending since you were no older than a twizzleroot blossom.  They're not really etiquette lessons, not anymore. They were when you were young, you would attend a few times a week with all the other kids your age. You’d learn how to drink tea, how to write thank you notes, and all the other things you need to know to feel comfortable in royal high society settings. By the end of middle school, most of your peers were no longer in attendance. 

You and Ben, however, used the opportunity to learn about more and more of the nuanced aspects of politics, social graces, and media training. Your parents were both glad for this, and since you seemed on track to be real politicians and not just socialites, it was a perfect fit. However, saying that you have to go to your class for advanced political studies, world history, social graces, and media training is a little too clunky for your taste. You and Ben never grew out of calling them etiquette lessons, so the name stuck to this day.

On this day in particular, you now find yourself sitting next to Ben at a large table in one of the many makeshift conference rooms on campus. You’ve been in and out of meetings and lessons and debriefings about the Isle kids’ arrival, and now you’ve finally made it nearly to the end of your to do list. Ben insisted you didn’t need to stay late with him to do all this paperwork, but you insisted equally as much that you wouldn’t dream of leaving him to do it all himself. Now as Ben skims the monotonous text, signing on lines and initialing boxes, you dig through a seemingly endless database of forms, trying to find the right one. 

You bounce increasingly obscure form titles back and forth for a few minutes. After coming up with nothing, Ben lets out an amiable laugh. He should have expected something that seems straightforward would take at least ten times as long as it should. That’s government for you, that’s what his dad would say. A knock at the door draws both your attention, and Jane pokes her head in awkwardly. She tucks a section of her dark blunt bob behind her ear, then speaks nervously. 

“Uh, hi. My mom sent me,” she says in a quiet, hesitant voice. “She said she’s going to be about half an hour late. There was a problem with some ducks in the forest, or something?” 

Ben smiles at her politely.

“Thanks, Jane.” Ben says politely. Jane nods and leaves quickly, fussing with her short hair. You let out a puff of air from between your lips.

“Even more delays…” you murmur, clicking onto page 23 out of 66 of forms to look through. “How fun.”

Ben chuckles, agreeing as he stands up to stretch his legs. He walks around for a moment, and turns on an extra lamp. It’s starting to get dark out, and the last thing either of you need right now is eye strain. Wait, it’s already getting dark out? He stops in his tracks.

“Shit.” He mutters, reaching for his phone on the table. He completely forgot about dinner with Audrey, but he has to find these forms and get them filled out tonight. You try not to look like you're listening too closely as the phone rings, but Audrey’s voice is quite hard to ignore. Before he can greet her, she’s already demanding to know where he is and why he’s late.

“No, no. I- I didn’t forget. I… well… uh, no. It’s-” Ben rambles around Audrey’s interjections. He gets up, pacing around a little, and walking across the room away from you. He doesn’t want you to have to hear this. 

“We’re just running behind. No- No! I would never intentionally… stand you up… I-” 

“Right!” Audrey snaps on the other end, forcing a smile. “Well then. Maybe we should just cancel!” 

“Wh- uh, okay. I- I’ll make it up to you. We can… uh, later this week? We’ll - before the next tourney meet? I…” 

Ben sighs and pulls his phone away, looking at the screen. Call ended. He walks back over to the table, sitting down to continue trudging through the task at hand. You wordlessly slide a teacup over toward him, the colorful porcelain filled with warm chai, perfectly sweetened. He cracks a smile, and accepts the cup. 

“Thanks, bunny.” He says quietly. You hum warmly in response. You settle back into your comfortable silence, trudging through forms and digging through documents. As you sit across from each other, the pile of completed paperwork steadily grows taller. Hours pass, and you don’t realize how late it is until you’re finally ready to call it quits for tonight. You stumble through your bedtime routine, grateful that you have your muscle memory to carry you through. As soon as your head hits your soft pillow… nothing happens. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable, then let out an irritated sigh. You managed to get through such a long day and mountains of paperwork, and you still can’t sleep. 

In the opposite wing of the dorms, Ben has no trouble winding down. He’s cozy in his silky royal blue and daffodil yellow sheets, and he’s satisfied with a long day of hard, productive work. He lets out a soft breath, feeling himself teetering on the brink of sleep. Then he hears his door creak open. Soft, muffled footsteps creep across the wood floor, then grow silent as they meet the expansive carpet covering the majority of the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone crouching next to his bed. 

“...Ben?”

He cracks a smile at the sound of your voice, how quiet and tiny you sound in the lateness of the night. You smile a little too when you see him fighting a little grin. After a moment, he answers. 

“Yes bunny?”

“Are you asleep?” You ask carefully. You wait in the darkness for him to answer. 

“Yes.” 

You smile at his sarcastic response, letting out a little breathy giggle through your nose. You kick off your bunny slippers - complete with little tophats - and crawl into bed next to Ben. He’s already scooching over and lifting up the blankets for you, pulling them over your shoulders the way he knows you like. 

He doesn’t need to ask if you couldn’t sleep, he already knows you couldn’t. You’ve been doing this, sneaking in for sleepovers when insomnia gets the best of you, for as long as he can remember. Something about his presence comforts you, relaxes you through even the longest, most never ending nights. No matter how tired he is, he’s always happy to be there for you on nights like tonight, he’s always happy to keep you warm and talk you to sleep. 

And that’s just what he does. He lets you lead the conversation, rambling about whatever springs to mind, emptying out your brain so you can rest. He’d like to think he knows you pretty well by now. He knows just what to do to help you settle down, to give you the best chance of having a restful night. It’s no surprise to him that you mostly seem to be thinking about the Isle kids. 

“I mean, this is real. Our actions mean they get a chance at a better life.” You mutter drowsily. Your cheek is squished against his pillow and your words are heavy with fatigue. Ben can’t help but think it makes your Wonderland accent that much… cuter. 

“Yeah,” He agrees. He traces his hand along your back soothingly. He glances down and notices you’re wearing the white button down shirt you sometimes wear as a pajama top. He asked you about it once, and you said it made you think of him. He smiles a little as he settles back into his pillows.

“I just hope they’ll be able to assimilate well.” You say, a tone of worry now present in your words. “The only thing worse than doing nothing would be having their decisions made for them because of social pressure…” 

“We’ll keep a close eye out for that.” Ben says. His voice is husky and drowsy. It fills you with warmth, with an appreciation for him and the way he stays up with you even though you know how tired he must be. You nod a little, then find yourself rambling again. 

“I just wish there was a way to guarantee that they felt welcome and not… ostracized.” You mumble. You inch closer to him, snuggling into his warm chest and listening to his soothing heartbeat. It speeds up almost imperceptibly as you do.

“Make sure they know that we know them as people. As individuals, and not just…” You continue, cutting yourself off with a yawn. You stretch a little as you do, then curl back up. Ben looks down at you, smiling a little at how sweet you are, at how clingy you get when you’re sleepy. 

“As the children of their parents…” You finish. Ben hums in agreement. He notices how heavy your eyes are getting, how your speech is slowing, how the flow of your thoughts have gone from a fully blasting garden hose to a subtly dripping kitchen sink. You’re about to fall asleep, which means he can let himself sleep too. He couldn’t have gone to bed before now if he wanted to. If he knows you can’t sleep, he won’t be able to either. But feeling your soft breaths across his skin, feeling the way your chest rises and falls as his hand lays comfortingly on your side, knowing that you’re warm and safe here, with him… Ben feels more relaxed than he has in a long time. Probably since… the last time you couldn’t sleep. 

Sometimes when it’s just the two of you like this, all drowsy and late at night, in the moments before he falls asleep, Ben sometimes gets… weird thoughts. Weird, random, impulsive thoughts that are not at all like him. Totally out of left field stuff, like… wanting to kiss you. Like, really, really wanting to kiss you. Sometimes that turns into wanting to hold you, too. And not like this, not holding you platonically, like a best friend, but… holding you a different way. Maybe wanting to hold you tight in his arms, and lay you down in his big, silky bed, and… 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment before relaxing his face. He puts a manual stop to that train of thought, absolutely refusing to let it continue anymore. He won’t entertain it, he won’t let it heat up his cheeks anymore. He doesn’t like thinking things like that about anyone, and he certainly won’t let himself think anything like that about you. He sighs softly. These crazy thoughts will be gone by the morning. They always are. They have to be. 

Besides, it’s so late, he won’t even remember this by the time he wakes up. That’s what he always tells himself. The last thing he would never admit to anyone - not even to himself - surfaces right before he falls asleep. It must be the late hour, where everything vulnerable feels completely abstract and intangible, but he thinks it’s a lot easier to stop himself from thinking those things about Audrey than it is to stop thinking those things about you. 

While you and Ben drift off to sleep, safe and sound in each other’s arms, someone else is wide awake. Sitting in the dorm she shares with Evie, Mal sits on her bed, scouring her spell book exactly like she’s been doing since Ben left earlier that afternoon. After hours of hitting brick wall after brick wall, Mal is met with the back cover of the book. Again. She lets out a frustrated noise, and flips back to the beginning.

“There’s not a single love spell in this whole fucking book!” She exclaims. She looks over the first few pages, reading them more closely in hopes that she somehow missed something. Evie sits across the room in front of a lit up mirror, plucking meticulously at her eyebrows. 

“Are we…” She winces, then inspects her skin and eyebrows again. “Are we sure we need a love spell?” 

Mal rolls her eyes at the question. Yes, obviously they need a love spell. Evie is oblivious to her irritation, and continues thinking out loud around her careful use of the sharp tweezers in her hand. 

“I could… just work my charm on him. All it would take is one look into my…” Another wince. “Hypnotizing eyes, and he’d be wrapped around my finger.”

She leans back, taking a final look at her work, more satisfied with her appearance now. 

“I mean, he’s not really my type, but…” she shrugs, and looks at Mal, waiting for some kind of reaction from her. Mal doesn’t look up at Evie’s eyebrows, she just keeps digging through her book and ignoring the sound of Carlos and Jay playing videogames.

“No, we need a spell. This has to work. It has to be foolproof.” 

Evie grabs a jade roller and some hydrating gel. She still can’t believe how amazing the makeup and the skincare in Auradon is. She hasn’t seen one half wilted aloe plant, and this gel is infused with roses from Aurora’s moors, glacier water from Arendelle, and caviar fished from the Caribbean. She can’t wait to get her hands on a decent blush, and a lip liner that doesn’t double as eyeliner and an eyebrow pencil. 

Evie notices the scowl on Mal’s face as she hunches over the spell book. Normally she would scold Mal for making faces that will give her wrinkles, but now that she has her hands on retinol, hyaluronic acid, and hydrocolloid patches, she can fix any stress wrinkles Mal brings upon herself. After what feels like an eternity of searching the same pages over and over, something catches Mal’s eye, causing her to stop in her tracks. It’s more of her mothers rambling annotations and scrawled notes, this time on the topic of hypnosis. 

Hypnosis can be useful as long as you’re stealthy with it. Jafar got sloppy, he kept hypnotizing that stupid sultan over and over, not bothering to use hypnosis for it’s true purpose - a means to an end. If you’re an evil genius like I am, and you use hypnosis sparingly, no one will be the wiser. Don’t get me started on that oversized calamari - Ursula has to be the best example of what not to do when you’re hypnotizing a bonehead prince to make him think he’s in love with you. Something as easily breakable as a necklace? Please. Besides, everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

Her mother’s scratchy handwriting goes on for a while, some anecdote about her and Mal’s father, something she’d rather not read. Ever. She thinks back to what Evie said about wrapping Ben around her finger, and in one desperately needed moment of clarity, everything falls into place. A plan begins to form in her mind. 

“This… this could work.” She says. Those three, quietly spoken words get the attention of everyone in the room. Evie sets down her gua sha stone, and Carlos pauses their videogame. They all walk over, hesitant and eager to hear what Mal figured out. Mal lets out a laugh of disbelief. It seems so simple now, she wonders why she didn’t think of it sooner. She can just hypnotize Ben into falling in love with her. She can trick him into thinking that he loves Mal more than he’s ever loved Audrey, then - boom! Front row seats to coronation, which means front row seats to stealing the wand out from under their noses. 

While Mal silently hashes out the details so she can tell her friends, Evie inspects her cuticles. She really should push them back. She stands up, grabbing a cuticle pusher and an orange wood stick from her pencil cup before making her way back over to Mal’s bed. As the three of them wait with bated breath, Mal looks over the hypnosis spell again and again. After a few moments, she tucks a piece of paper between the pages, marking her spell to reference later. She slams the book shut, and looks up at her friends.

“Come on guys. Let’s go bake some cookies.”

[spacey-xannabelle]

Fateful Encounter...

Last month, at around April 10th, I decided to revisit an old project I started months prior which was to polish up a test sketch of a comic page about Lucy encountering Lumi in the dreamspace. And after slowly making progress on this, I'm finally finished with this!

I'm gonna leave some artist notes under the read more, but overall I'm super proud of how this turned out!! This is pretty much my first serious attempt at making comics in general so this has been a very interesting learning experience!

Artist notes: So this is what the original sketch for this whole thing was. It was just me scribbling out a scene I had in my head for Startrails that I wanted to put on paper:

This I'd say was made around 2020-2021 ish. At the time, I didn't really do much with it. Until several months ago, I thought of trying to redraw this page and expand upon it.

But my first attempt at doing this didn't quite lead anywhere. I barely got through the thumbnailing process and just gave up bc I lost motivation (and life/work stuff was Happening so yea I had to put this aside as I figured stuff out). Here's the first draft of the thumbnails:

It was just two pages at the time and was pretty simple. I left this project sitting in my files for a while until I one day just, started binging videos from Thestarfishface on YouTube, primarily her webcomic guide videos. And I decided I'd give this project another go.

It was here where I began making a second draft of the thumbnails and this was what I had to work with:

I wanted to experiment with the panels and get funky with the compositions this time around. The 2 page draft expanded to a 3 page thing. But I thought it would've been better if I added one more page at the end with Lucy waking up as a conclusion to wrap this whole thing together.

And in the middle of working on page 3, my friend had suggested to do a an impact frame page, which I hadn't considered during the thumbnailing, so 4 pages became 5. And this was the result!

I posted the pages as I finished them onto my deviantart so that's where a lot of my thoughts were journaled as I went along dfjsdh. To summarize my ramblings there, this project was a very fun (and a bit frustrating) learning experience! I'm hoping to keep practicing and improving my workflow, and hopefully one day make Startrails a full fledged webcomic :')

Additional ramblings:

The structure that Lucy finds Lumi in is inspired by an orrery.

For page 5, I initially didn't plan for much dialogue but as I drew it, it felt just a liiiitle bit empty, so I kinda just threw in some dialogue for Mira. But bc I was already in the inking process (and I just wanted to have this project completed), I didn't redo the page to even include Mira in it. So Mira's just out of frame sdfjskdh. If I had more time and energy to keep this up, I'd have made a revision of the page so I could include her.

This experience has taught me that I could seriously work on my rendering process a bit more, and that my layer management is just atrocious sdkfjksdfh

This has also taught me that while Medibang has the tools needed for me to draw these pages just fine, it also lacks some stuff that I personally need if I were to do a longer project like this. So I'll be experimenting with CSP next!

The dialogue throughout this whole thing wasn't all that planned out- I really just stuck close to what the initial doodle had which probably wasn't the best idea bc I just have like, 2 pages of Lucy's awkward sounding dialogue aaaa. I might do something a bit more dialogue heavy to help improve this skill next time.

Anyway, thank you for reading through my 1 am ramblings on this little project of mine shdkjhks

[ericaportfolio]

Disney's The Gremlins Over the Years

Chapter 1: Gremlins (Part 1)

Due to the recent events with Epic Mickey Rebrushed, I thought of making a series of posts dedicated to Disney's infamous characters from the canceled WWII movie The Gremlins. The character designs of these guys have changed many times during the concept art process and over the years. Today, this is a collection of male Gremlin designs. The female Gremlins were called the Fifinellas, which I will get to them in the next post. For those discovering this, in summary, Disney was making WWII movies and shorts for the war effort. They were going to adapt Roald Dahl's first book about these guys, and several things like people getting tired of war movies and figuring out how to make the movie, which was canceled. I'm making these posts for fun and to help give artists ideas for their OCs and fanart. I would post some sample pictures and a minor breakdown in each post. I might miss some because there is so much, so this is just a handful of pictures and photos I collected over the years. We really need to make a Disney Gremlin's Wiki.

Fun Fact: Bill Justice, a Disney animator and engineer, created many concept art and book illustrations. These posts are dedicated to him. Anyway, let's get started!

Early Concept Art: Bill Justice's early versions of the Gremlins that were later used for the Cosmopolitan version of the story. Shout out for ZOLTAR'S FORTUNE on eBay posting the Photocopies.

Cosmopolitan Magazine (1942): The earliest release of "The Gremlin" story was in the December 1942 issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. Someone posted the full article on the site, but I might do another post for each illustration. So stay tuned for that!

Concept Art of the guys we recognize: These would eventually be the final book and promotion designs.

The (Controversial) Life-Saver Ad (1943): AKA the ad Roald Dahl hated, but Walt Disney thought differently.

Dell War Heroes (April 1943): This is a sample from a six page adaptation of the story that was featured in a Dell War Heroes comic book. The writer and artist are unknown.

Disney's The Gremlins Book (June 1943): Here is one of Bill Justice's colored paintings from the book. I highly recommend looking through all the paintings from the book because Bill Justice does justice to these guys!

Walt Disney Comics and Stories #33 (June 1943): In this two page adaptation, a new group of pilots believed the Gremlins were fairytales. Jokes on them since what they said enraged the Gremlins that they mess with the guys.

King Features Syndicate: In this one page story, this comic is a quick introduction to the characters, the Gremlin, and why they're attacking the Royal Air Force setting up the story. (Comic found in chroniquedisney)

Donald Vs. The Gremlins (July 1943): The Crossover we would get years later by Walt Kelly.

Walt Kelly's Comics (July 1943-1944): For a year, Walt Kelly would make 8 comics about Gremlin Gus or both Gremlin Gus and two widgets getting in trouble at the airfield.

Storyboard Short (1943): This is a sample of a 1943 storyboard when the production went from feature film to short film.

Disneyfied Gremlin: This is a Model Drawing showing how far into production they were getting before getting scrapped. Later on, concept art was made of the Gremlins to have more of a Disney style. I even noticed the design in the storyboard, too. I'm glad we didn't get this style of characters. But I do love the poses.

Part 2 Coming Soon...

[edosianorchids901]

Plausible Deniability

For @book-omens-week Day 5: human connections

“What are you doing here?”

“Hmm?” Crowley looked up from his latest acquisition. Aziraphale stood in the doorway, wearing a vaguely accusing expression. “Oh, hi. I’m buying a painting. Well, not actually a painting. Cartoon.”

He held up the drawing. Aziraphale studied it for a moment, then glanced to the very unconscious human slumped forward across the table. “You look as though you’re outdrinking Leonardo da Vinci.”

“I mean yeah, there is that. That too, anyway.” Crowley grinned. “Humans, eh? Can’t keep up with supernatural entities very well. They’re kinda fragile.”

“They are, at that. Quite clever though, sometimes.” Aziraphale helped himself to a piece of cheese off Leonardo’s plate. “I presume you’re attempting to corrupt him?”

“Nh, mostly I was just���” Crowley waded through the boggy memory of his last several hours. “I told him about helicopters.”

Aziraphale huffed. “You really ought to stop doing that sort of thing, you dreadful old serpent.” He said the term with so much fondness that Crowley smiled. “Humans get themselves in enough trouble without you talking them into creating technology that they’re really not ready for.”

“Eh, I don’t think they’ll be able to make working ones yet. Besides, he’s already got some sketches of similar thingies.” Crowley gestured vaguely to Leonardo’s journals, some of which sat open on the table. “And anyway, what’re you doing here? I’m pretty sure he’s not the pious type.”

“Not so much, no. But he is fascinating, isn’t he? So innovative.” Aziraphale beamed at the thoroughly unconscious human. “I may have, er, wriggled my way into his good graces so I could get a peek at those notebooks.”

Crowley snorted. “‘Course you did.”

“And I suppose you’re here for entirely non self-serving reason?” Aziraphale asked tartly as he stole another piece of cheese. “Simply to give him ideas?”

“I said, I’m buying a drawing.” Holding the drawing up again for emphasis, Crowley grinned.

That definitely wasn’t the only reason, though. Crowley liked people, even if he didn’t really befriend them, and it was nice to connect with them. No human connections lasted long, of course. Humans had painfully short lives, and sometimes Crowley got melancholy about that.

He pushed any melancholy aside and gestured to the chair beside him. “You could sit down, y’know. Might as well sit if you’re gonna eat all of his food.”

“I’m not eating all of his food!” Aziraphale protested while stacking some sort of little sweet cakes on a plate. “He has plenty of food. And wine.”

“True.” Crowley watched Aziraphale fondly as the angel finished loading up his plate and acquired a jug of wine. “Are you gonna read his journals while he’s asleep?”

“Perish the thought.” Aziraphale cast a longing glance at the journals before pouring wine. “Well, I might just read the open pages, but it would be very rude to go further without permission.”

Crowley smiled, leaning back in his chair as Aziraphale devoured half of Leonardo’s food. “Gosh, you can’t possibly be rude.”

Crowley had also eaten and drank a lot—albeit at Leonardo’s invitation—and it was making him sleepy. He kicked his legs up on the table and closed his eyes, letting himself sink into a near doze. Not quite a full doze, though. His body would be seriously pissed off at him if he slept in this position, and spending the next few days limping around didn’t sound fun.

He apparently dozed a little more than he’d planned, though. He awoke to a gentle tap on his arm. “Crowley? Are you awake?”

“Hmm? Oh. Hi, yeah, awake now.” He shifted into a normal position and rubbed his eyes, bleary. Aziraphale, surrounded by Leonardo’s journals, beamed at him. “Oh wow, you did decide to read those, eh?”

“Er.” Aziraphale gave him a guilty look, then took a healthy swig of wine. “Not at all. Merely, um, looked through them.”

Crowley laughed, couldn’t help it, then stood. “Right, so. Are you done yet?”

“I am.” Aziraphale stood too. “Shall we?”

“Yup.” Crowley eyed the wine, then downed another glass of it before picking up his cartoon. “For plausible deniability,” he explained to Aziraphale, who had been giving him a you’ve had enough to drink look.

“Plausible deniability for what?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley grabbed his hand. “This.”

Aziraphale sputtered slightly, but didn’t argue. A smile crept onto his face, and he let Crowley pull him out of Leonardo’s studio and into the narrow street outside.

Night had fallen solidly now, stars sparkling overhead. The darkness brought cooler temperatures and a gentle breeze, enough that Crowley shivered. This wasn’t the kind of weather that made him feel like basking on a rooftop, unlike the heat of the afternoon.

But Aziraphale’s skin was warm against his, plump hand soft in his grasp. They walked together hand in hand through Florence’s narrow streets under the night sky. Connecting with humans for a bit was fun, sure. But there was nothing like strolling hand-in-hand with Aziraphale, their conversations similarly wandering from topic to topic. It was one of the pleasures of the world, and a pleasure that Crowley enjoyed immensely.

[aproxm]

you're a big inspiration of mine. if anything ever happened to my body to where i lost the current capacity to draw like i do now (pretty much my only creative outlet), i know from your experience that it would be a tough road to climb back towards creating but it's very much doable, and i would find success like you have if i put in the dedication and work. please keep making things forever.

;_;

i hate sounding like a baby but life is so difficult, even insulated within a first world nation, even with jobs with downtime... this ask was sent in oct 2023 and between then and now i almost went homeless and had my ebt frozen for a spell there. i ended up working with a local org and it took a dozen calls and appointments and drives and deadlines but i did end up getting put in a cool new place and they helped with the initial payments and i even got free utilities now hahaha. i also spent much of this time with mind wracked over trying to get a second job with my first on hiatus--i'm working both now, never had 2 jobs at the same time before but rent's gotta get paid. where was i going with this? life is really difficult. you could say me dealing with my fibro diagnosis, losing my ability temporarily to draw, game, write, work, etc was a mountain with first a slope way downwards, but i got over it (i mean im still disabled but at least i can do things again with minimal pain lol).

but then having my roommate bounce and being faced with wholly supporting myself again was a second mountain, and facing it from the bottom was particularly excruciating. nothing pumps the brakes on managing stress like scrounging the floor of Maslow's pyramid. but i'm past that now, too, and just like with my first climb it required help from several sources before i could become self sufficient again. but i did do it. so if you or a reader ever faces a situation like that, it's not impossible to survive. like you said, dedication and work, but also reaching out, and waiting. it can be a lot of agonizing waiting... and i advise diversifying your creative outlets on that note. it helps me to bounce around different hobbies hahaha. i lost where i was going with this again

i'm still drawing, still making things and trying. i dont think 'success' is quite where i am... i write a chapter a week for 'DWARF IN A HOLE' and i'm up to like 38, and i revise the hell out of it, and i hope that goes somewhere. im working on visual novels plural, revising 'GYNOGENESIS' so the script is less... well it's certainly the result of an unedited 16 day marathon lol. 'STUDIO HOOP' has gained new members for its next project and it's the director's dream so i'm going to do my best to not let her down. i practice DJing often and try to throw fun live shows on twitch but my headset and speakers both fell dead so... well anyway i work on my website 'WWW.APROXM.COM' when i find time and it has a lot of new pages and is a cool archival for very embarrassing past work. but it's cool to see a distance crossed from that--that's the intention anyway. and drawing, i'm still drawing, actually mostly with dollar store ink pens these days--ease of access at work. really just abstract shapes and simple crap like that. let's finish this ask out on some samples

i'll set up a trad blog at some point cuz i dont really want to shit this one up with these--there's dozens, seriously. ok well anyway thanks for the ask and the opportunity to type some things. i'm going for a walk

[zarvasace]

PROGRESS POST

(10/4/23)

This is partly for accountability and partly just to get all this out of my head! This last month or two have felt so hectic, getting used to a new work and sleep schedule and all. I'm still not quite there.

If you're curious about what I've been working on and what my plans are in terms of writing and art for the rest of the year, read on. :)

I will say, though, that if you want more of a specific AU or story, the way to get it is by asking questions and leaving comments! Asks and comments remind me about things I'm doing and get me excited about them again! I have these plans, but I also am very good at chasing inspiration to unknown (and sometimes unimportant) corners!

By Fandom

Linked Universe Projects

I've been feeling less motivated to work on LU stuff, but I still plan on at least finishing what I have open, so you can look forward to some of that!

Writing

Disability AU—one small mobility trio fic in the works. A few vague ideas for doing backstory fics.

Council (1931 vampire AU)—this is still the "backburner to backburner" fic, but I do have some fun ideas. I just have been distracted with other things! I think this AU is a lot of fun and I'd love to do more with it. We'll have to see.

The Marvelous Misadventures of Wind and His Merry Band of Maybe-Human Misfits—chapter 7 (out of 9 or so) is in progress. I have it all outlined out, and it's fun to work on, but I have (again) been distracted! This is, I hope, going to be my main December project. It'd be nice to finish before it turns 2 years old next summer. Oops.

I have several other WIPs that aren't very exciting and probably won't see daylight, but they're there if I feel like them

Art

Coloring book—I'm part of the coloring book project! :) I have already finished 1/2 drawings, and they went so well, I'm considering doing more.

Shatterproof manga page—still on my radar! I'm doing the end scene from dazzling diamond danger, and my ambition keeps outgrowing my time.

Four Swords Projects

Writing

Fairytale AU—man I've started this Vidow BatB fic literally five times. I have an almost-complete draft sitting at like... 20k?? iirc, but I kind of hate a lot of it. I also like a lot of it. It's a bit difficult for me to work on rewriting something in that situation. Anyway. Another December thing probably.

Fright Fight—I have ideas for every week, but am currently unsure if I want to draw or write for them. Most of my October will be focused on filling these prompts!

Vampire Lords AU—I have strange as severe is this my fate open right now, with a fair amount of material... it just needs to be edited a bit. I do want to keep working on that, I've just... well. Distraction. A common theme. XD I might be feeling another little bite fic coming on, too.

Art

Fright Fight—see above

Fright Fight part 2—I have a few side things to do for this, like making graphics that I haven't quite finished yet. They shouldn't take long, I just gotta do em!

Non-Fandom

Stickers—I am in the process of drawing some stickers! Yay! These are for my work, but also just for me. I want some Halloween stickers. This is a backburner project.

Nanowrimo project—I need to spend some time figuring out a few things to really get going on my princess-verse. I'm going to be doing Nanolympics this year, so hopefully some of their preptober stuff will help!

Hearts Linked Together—my super-cool Linkverse. XD I love my dumb timeline, and all the characters, they're just filler drawings that I haven't had time to continue.

Secret Zelda project—I really really need to do this! I can't say much right now, but it involves a fair amount of work, both writing and art. I think I haven't gotten very far on it yet because I'm intimidated. Stop that.

Zine edits—I worked really really hard on an art piece for a LoZ zine coming up! This week is critique, and I anticipate a few edits later.

By Month

Facebook posts—a lady I know wants to commission pretty quote images to post on her Facebook. I need to reply to her text. And do them.

September

I primarily worked on the fic Blood-Sucker's Guide to High School. I also worked on and submitted one fic and one piece of art to two different zines, which I hope you'll see soon.

October

If you care, you may have noticed I'm not doing Whumptober this year! Part of this is because I'm a bit burned out from the above, and part of it is that the prompts just didn't seem very inspiring to me this year. Maybe that's just my mindset. I haven't been in a very whumpy mood.

I'm planning on filling weekly prompts for @fsfrightfight this month and maybe chipping away at some other fics, in addition to one more zine contribution. I'm also going to be planning for November and doing some scattered art work here and there.

November

NaNoWriMo! I considered skipping this... but I'm feeling really inspired and motivated to do it, especially with October as a break. I'm going to write some original work, and that will be the focus of my November. I'll likely get some other art done, too.

December

I hope to dedicate this month to finishing things up from this year! That means working on "backburner" projects.

[fr-wiwiw]

hiii, do you want to do an artist's version of this fun writer's asks game? i'm so curious about what you think of 5, 10, 12, 15, 19, 23

hi there! thanks for this fun game! lemme copy the question to change some of the words and answer them right away xD I will put aside my experience as writer and reader too bcs this is artist version so the answers will be strictly from my experience as an illustrator!

5. Do you have any drawing/painting superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true? Oh gosh, good question- I'm guessing this is some kind like ritual or routine I do before I start scribbling in my sketchbook or digital canvas. I think I kinda do and don't. Since this new year, I started to intentionally journal my thoughts out when I woke up. This is recommended from the book that's called The Artist's Way, some kind like spiritual guide for artists. I've only read up until the page where the author said to take your inner child out to date- creative dates. Anyway, basically the journaling I do religiously now has to be 3 pages and pour any thoughts that came onto my mind. Taking out trash from our mind daily instead letting it piling for months waiting to be taken out. I only do 2.5, my right arm and shoulder always aching since few years ago. But so far, it does helps me a bit with my overthinking and be discipline about my healthy habits. I'm not the best at discipline so I'm proud I'm able to keep this going for almost 3 months now. The other thing, which I'm not sure is something superstitions, is to look up drawings by other artists or watch movies, see fanarts, read fanfics, or just be in my mind, to get inspired and start drawing. I'm mostly brain rot driven or if I'm seeing something very often, I will draw it. I'm trying not to count on my brain rot energy too often bcs I want to be able to draw with and without the brain rot. It's still fluctuates but I'm better than I was years ago. I'm happy with the progress! I will continue on next answer post, Idk why Tumblr is not working for me today :( so this will be several answer post and reblog, I'm so sorry

[poupeesdecirque]

Incomings, WiPs & Plans for February

First of all, my big announcement for this month: I bought the doll base for Howard Link <3 he will be a Charmdoll LaiKa! As the boy got released I instantly knew this will be my Link, I waited almost 7 months the last time so .. I don't think I will see him before summer.

My current incomings look like this now:

No updates on the other bodies or Pallu by now, but that's okay C:

In terms of Work in Progress dolls, those are the dolls that are currently unfinished:

Yup, you see that right. That pile SHRANK down to basically the ones needing bodies and Darjeeling. And Darjeeling is just waiting for a dress to be finished then.

I *could* start on Adam's clothes as I have the pattern and fabrics here but I think i will do that once his body got shipped. For Kanda and Maple I need the bodies for measurements.

Everyone else is finished. Only small adjustments or upgrades left like swapping eyes or shoes. For bby!Allen I am still working on some little additions, like a plushy

Not done cutting parts here, I'm considering doing a scaled up version for personal fun reasons, why not having a huge Timcampy?

Other than that I will most likely spend the next day tidying up my sewing mess and organizing fabrics, buttons and materials, I.. went a bit wild the last days.

Because yeah... you maybe were able to guess it but Lavi is done. Just finished him today, I have yet to put his photos into the queue, I'm trying to sort my mind right now because the last month was a lot. All I can tell right now is that it feels like a huge burden is off my chest, I think the curse is finally broken, he lost his 'tainted' status shortly after I wrote the blog entry about those dolls but now the 'preorders from hell' finally came to an end (I ignore the one going on though I just sit here and wait that's okay) and that's just ... wow. That needs to sink in.

Inbetween I'm working on my assinged page for the redraw project, I want to give it more time than I usually take as this project is special and I draw a lot therefore improve here and there and I don't want to redo the whole thing in like 2 weeks again just because I rushed it x_x'

When Tim is done I will revert to working on Cosplay and will start on my variant of Crown Clown, which is roughly planned for the Dokomi to be finished. I tested some of the materials today and I think this will be a fun project overall as I can be more artistic this time.

While we are at 'artistic' I have an appointment on the 16th to get my 4th tattoo, this will go onto my left arm to continue my sleeve. It's just my sketch, my artist want to mash up several ideas for the border to match more with the vibe of the Manga & the rest of my shoulder.

He was also amazed how well my shoulder tattoo has healed and how great the shading came out. Dunno if I will be able to do much after getting the tattoo but I'm right handed therefore... maybe a bit less on the strenght training then.

Oh, my juggling has advanced a bit, I am now able to catch 3 balls more than once, I'm still not close to juggle 3 balls but tiny steps here.

Doll Photoshootings is the thing getting time cut though, the weather here is awful anyways :/ hope it will get better soon but the days get longer and then I have more time in the evenings.

[bchukerman]

https://instagr.am/reel/CtGK8iSg9SO/

Butterflies arrived. - One of our good friends asked, what is this piece about? I didn’t really have an answer. Except that it started with the news and bans on drag shows. - Differences, similarities, and why all the fuss? I didn’t (& still don’t) understand. We’re all flesh and bones. - What so we decided to make the outside with rainbow colors & the inside with pinks, which is basically a loose representation of everyone. - Then we chose to use pompoms as a medium, and we tried to use only things that one could buy for ages four and up. (Some of these are severe choking hazards, so we broke that role almost immediately). - Do not eat this project. - The topic was as serious as it gets, but it needed to be warm and fuzzy and playful and inviting and helpful and squishy, and non-threatening … in rainbows and Easter egg colors. - I’ve written pages and pages about what this piece could be about and I’m going to have to condense it to a short paragraph with some pictures, but I’ll do that later and I’ll get some help. - Anyway: I added the butterflies to 2 mm acrylic rods, a varying heights, and installed them. - Then I removed all the extra balls around our simulated DNA strands. - Then I removed the flowers from the peace and took them off their 2 mm acrylic rods. - then I put them back on the simulated DNA strands, & added 3. - I couldn’t tell from drawings so all I could do it. Keep trying things that didn’t work until I found some thing that did. - I’m happy where things are. Everything fits. - The butterflies added a hopeful lightness (I think). - I’m hoping now to install the dome, then re-wrap the entire piece in flannel, because it will be less fuzzy, and have better adhesion. - Then we can get to the fun part and begin adding 8000 fuzzy pom-poms ranging in size from 1/4” to 2” - Next. - For The Box Show @galleryrouteone #gro #galleryrouteone #galleryrouteoneboxshow #theboxshow #theboxshowgalleryrouteone #workinprogress #thelastfouryears #thenextfouryears #forever #Smallstuff #baddecisions #humanrights #constitutionalrights #someoftheabove #alloftheabove #somethingelse #istilldontknowwhy #becauseicaniguess #madeinchina #wrappinginnovato June 04, 2023 at 10:12PM via Instagram https://instagr.am/reel/CtGK8iSg9SO/

[nocturnalazure]

Lengthy explanatory note

I hope the whole scene somehow conveys the idea that it was, both for Laurie and Erik but also for myself, a very slow burn that had gradually become unbearable. I've hesitated for a long time to have them cross that line. I liked keeping it blurry, I thought ambiguity added a layer to their relationship, which was already special to begin with. It is not so much a matter of sexual orientation. They cannot really define their relationship because ‘friends’ doesn’t cover it and sounds odd to both of them. So... more than friendship and ambiguous? What could it be?

Before characters become a couple in the story, I usually check on their chemistry by testing out some romantic interactions with them. With Laurie and Erik, my computer almost caught fire. Repeatedly.

I hesitated until the very last moment, because it was really not part of the plan, and just supposed to be a fun AU. And then it was never the right moment. Honestly there never would have been a right moment. When it finally came to the point where we’re at, I knew I just had to go all the way. There had been so much tension in their interactions lately, it was begging to be released. And it was, in a pretty intense way.

This was by far the steamiest, most hardcore and longest sex scene I've ever written. And I haven't even included all the shots. Guess that’s what happens when there is a lot of accumulated frustration.

I could have actually posted it on Tumblr: the drafts I’d prepared had not been flagged, probably because Laurie keeps his shirt on the whole time and the panels do not show any sensitive parts of the anatomy. But it’s still very graphic and you know... I’d rather give you the choice.

I usually correct a couple of things here and there, but for this whole update... I edited 28 pages, changing one word or a sentence at the last moment.

As for what comes next between them... As Laurie said, it’s pretty much a dead-end. In the unforgiving underworld that they live in and in their respective positions, it’s not like they can become a couple and be happy forever after. There’s a legacy to take care of, and it’s been hard enough for them to get there without adding emotional complications. So yeah, the aftermath will be awkward. Laurie has by nature a lot of self-control and is used to hide his real feelings. But Erik has always been the needy one, looking for physical contact. When he said he always fell for people out of his league, that had applied to Delia (who is older than him), applies now to Gloria... and also to Laurie. He’s bound to have a harder time coping with it. But then again, he has promised Laurie that he wouldn’t tell a soul and just pretend, and a promise made to Laurie is absolute to him. So... we'll see how he fares.

I don’t know yet where this will take them but my hope (and Laurie’s) is that, with that sexual tension gone, they can sort of move on and get involved with other people. I love them together, mind you. But I also love conflict and impossibly complicated love stories. ;)

One last thing I’d like to draw your attention on is that Erik has called Laurie 'Lau' several times towards the end of the update. :) That is intentional, and I know it’s, like, the diminutive of what is already a diminutive, and it probably sounds weird to English native speakers, but I don't care because I absolutely love the way it sounds! :D It's such a sweet way of having some degree of intimacy without being too obvious.

Anyways.

THE LAURIK SHIP IS IN FULL SAIL!!!

I’m warning you... Now that it’s out in the open, I won’t be able to shut up about it.

[lofty-immeasurable-sky]

I remember reading somewhere that we communicate nonverbally far more than we do verbally. (I think verbal is like 7% of our communication? Wow!) So, naturally, I projected my fascination with that onto my current fixation on Zukka. Zuko and Sokka canonically struggle a bit with social interaction, but in opposite ways. Their relationship, I imagine, would consist of them frequently helping each other navigate social gatherings. Personally, I struggle more on the Sokka side of things-- becoming too passionate and loud about certain subjects. I tried to make their reactions healthy, because I’ve learned to recognize the difference between being told to shut up and being told to step back, take a breath, and regain perspective. Similarly, I know the importance of smiling at others, and what kind of a difference in your confidence it can make when someone smiles back. 

 Anywho! I created some rough comics surrounding this idea that were going to be a Thing but then I spent waaaaay too long on the panels above. 

The sketches and the ID are below the cut! (Honestly, I like how these sketches turned out better than the main comic I made. Sighhh.)

I originally pictured Zukka’s nonverbal communication to be very sweet, but then I started thinking about how they would definitely also have wacky interactions that would help them escape the occasional and nearly inescapable boredom of their jobs. I  also don’t know how Sokka communicated “mochi” with only a look. I just know that it happened. (I had so much fun with Zuko’s expressions! My favorite is the heckin’ sweet one)

[ID: A digital comic. Zuko and Sokka, who are both visibly older, sit at a table along with two earth kingdom dignitaries. They are in the fire nation palace, in a vast room with two pillars, raised steps, and doors leading to outside behind them. Everything is highly decorated and in golds and crimsons. The table has several scrolls and cups on it. Zuko’s place is very neat, whereas Sokka’s papers are scattered and crumpled. Zuko frowns and looks at an earth kingdom dignitary with glasses. The dignitary is visibly nervous. He says, “So, anyway, Firelord Zuko, um... I think-- er... um... uh...” Sokka looks benignly at Zuko.

The next page shows Sokka’s hand on Zuko’s arm. Blue letters read, “Hey.” Then, a close up of Zuko’s scarred eye, looking at Sokka. Sokka then smiles. Blue words say, “smile!” next to Sokka’s head. Zuko looks down, smiling slightly. Yellow words say, “Oh. Right.” Zuko smiles at the dignitary, who smiles back gratefully and thinks, “Oh, he’s smiling. Thank the Spirits.” Zuko rests his hand on Sokka’s. Yellow words say, “thank you,” and blue ones say, “of course.”

Another page shows Sokka yelling across the table at a fire nation dignitary. Zuko looks at Sokka. Then, he rests his hand on Sokka’s arm. Yellow words say, “Sokka. Take a breath.” An ellipses comes from Sokka. He brings his hand toward Zuko’s, and blue words say, “I know.” Sokka breathes in, then out. He then says, “Anyway, this is an issue I feel very strongly about, and it’s necessary we take the proper precautions...” Sokka bites his cheek and looks at Zuko. Blue words say, “I wasn’t done, y’know.” Zuko smiles, and yellow words say, “I know. You can tell me later.”

On the fourth page, a fire nation noble sits. He is looking very nasty and mean. There is a close up of his eyes, which look in Zuko’s direction. Zuko, in a side profile, startles slightly in recognition. Sokka looks on. Under the table, Sokka holds Zuko’s hand, which is shaking. Yellow words and blue words surround the hand. The yellow ones say, “SOKKA. That man- he was there. At the war meeting. On that day. I can’t do this... Sokka... why is he here... I can’t I can’t I can’t.” The blue words say, “Yes, you can... I’m here... Just 30 more minutes... You’re safe.”

The first sketch page shows a rough drawing on a pillared- room. There is a blue and red blob that represent Sokka and Zuko, respectively. They recognize each other. Zuko looks pointedly at Sokka. Red words say, “Hey. Let’s ditch this party and go feed turtleducks.” Sokka smiles conspiratorially, shows a bag of something tucked into his belt, and points a thumb backward. Blue letters say, “one step ahead of you. I already got the bread crumbs. Let’s bounce, babe.” Zuko has stars in his eyes. Big words say, “HECKIN’ SWEET.” There are stars behind him, too. 

The second sketch shows Zuko and Sokka both dying of boredom in their chairs. Sokka gets an idea. He looks at Zuko excitedly, and blue letters say, “Zuko Zuko Zuko, let’s have mochi later. Zuko wrinkles his nose and red letters say, “I don’t like mochi. You know this.” Sokka frowns and looks at Zuko. Blue letters say, “Don’t make me do it.” Zuko frowns back and red letters say, “DON’T YOU DARE.” Sokka makes a puppydog face. Blue letters say, *dares*.” Zuko silently screams and red letters say, “NO, MY WEAKNESS.” Zuko lifts a hand to shield himself from Sokka’s cute attack. Red letters say, “No No Not again.” Zuko looks forward, then at Sokka, then completely away, then he looks fully at Sokka. Red letters say, “OK.” Then, an “AHEM,” sounds from somewhere off the panel. Sokka and Zuko, who are holding hands and facing one another, are startled. They both grimace and look at each other. Purple letters say, “oops.” End ID]

[zodiakuroo]

Love Thy Brother

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, dabi’s canononical dick piercings  manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, manipulation, blackmail, spit, stepcest, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, mentioned breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege : 3

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: secured my spot in hell with this one for sure anyways touya-nii go brrrrr

part 2 here!

But he that hates his brother is in darkness, and walks in darkness, and knows not whither he goes, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes. – 1 John 2:11

Gaining 4 new siblings as a young adult is not something anyone expects, you think, but you’re grateful to have been accepted into Enji Todoroki’s family nonetheless.

Fuyumi was the big sister you always wanted, kind and nurturing, always happy to let you borrow her clothes and give you advice. You and Natsuo the closest in age.  He was warm and friendly and while he teased you a lot it was never mean spirited, just the kind that was typical between siblings. Shoto was quiet in nature and though it took him more time than the rest to warm up to you, eventually you two became friends as well.

And there was Touya…..

Well, Dabi as he prefers to be called.

When you first met him, you were terrified, the shock of seeing him made you hide behind your mother instinctively.  The Todoroki clan looked every bit the perfect suburban family except for Dabi. He had his hair dyed jet black, with seemingly more tattoos than clean skin. He had several cartilage piercings in his ears as well as three small studs in his nostril and a barbell through his eyebrow.  He scoffed at your scared reaction, sticking out his tongue to show you the silver ball on its surface and sending a wink your way.

Admittedly, felt guilty for judging Dabi based on his appearance, but you would soon come to find that sometimes it’s better to trust your judgement.

At first, Dabi ignored you, acted as if you didn’t exist. And the times when he was forced to acknowledge your presence in his family he acted as though you were nothing more than a nuisance. You thought that you might have offended him somehow but Fuyumi assured you that Dabi was just like that and that you shouldn’t take it personally. “He just needs to get to know you.” She said.

She was wrong though. Dabi couldn’t stand you.

Everything about you infuriates him. Prancing around in those frumpy sweaters and modest skirts like anyone would bother to lewd you anyways. Lest they attempt, you wear that gold cross necklace everywhere you like a big old “PROPERTY OF JESUS” tag. Your insistence to say a prayer every time the family dog so much as farts. The way his entire family seems to be enamored by your church girl act. Perhaps what he hates most is the way you look at him, poor delinquent Dabi, like you’re so much better than him. Sanctimonious bitch.

Then he noticed how you were with Natsuo. How you would pout and whine when he teased you and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and amusement, banter back and forth with him. Let’s be clear here, he didn’t care about you. He cared about attention. You were giving too much of your attention to his younger brother and that just wouldn’t do.

Pretty soon, Touya was in on the teasing. He started out by making fun of you for being so conservative. Low-hanging fruit. You’ve heard it all before so it didn’t wrench much of a reaction for you but that just made him more determined. Sometimes it got downright mean, earning him a scolding from Fuyumi. Not that he would listen anyways

Then it got physical. It started innocently enough, Dabi would tug on your hair, snatch food out of your hands, kick you underneath the dinner table. Albeit childish, it was incredibly annoying. You would shriek and yell for him to cut it out and after finally getting the desired reaction from you, he became hungry for more.

So he started taking more risks. When you were in the kitchen alone Dabi would brush his hand under your skirt making you squeal. That progressed to him flicking up your skirt to catch a glimpse of your panties which progressed to him spanking you so hard, you’d think of him every time you sat down for the rest of the day.

On the days when he was in a good mood (read: stoned out of his mind), he would pull you into his lap and hold you there, blowing smoke in your face that made you cough so that he could laugh. Sometimes he would let his hands wander, over your chest and between your thighs while you squirm in his hold. He’d say “Anyone ever touch you like this? I hope not, I’m sure it would piss off Jesus”

As if the touching wasn’t invasive enough, Dabi felt he was entitled to your room and personal artifacts. Often you’d come back from campus or church to find the contents of your underwear drawer spilled on the floor. You would notice a pair or two missing when you packed them back.

One time he vandalised your bible with drawings of penises on every single page.

“D’ya like my artwork princess?” he said when you confronted him. In a fit of rage, threw the book at his head. You missed (unfortunately) making him like laugh. “Surely there’s something condemning violence in that book of yours.”

You tried locking him out of your room but all that did was make him angrier. He threated to break your door clean off its hinges if you did it again.

Which brings you to your current predicament.

It had been a long day. You woke up late landing you in trouble with your manager. Your coworker fell ill and you had to cover a double shift, with no shortage of asshole customers on this particular day it seems. On top of all that, you just got stood up for date. You come home to a quiet house and you’re so grateful for this small blessing on a day like this. After a long, scalding hot shower, you lie on your bed wrapped in a fluffy, white towel, contemplating your next move.

You were home alone and with a family this big that hardly ever happens. You do what any person would do after having the day you had.

You smile to yourself, undoing the knot on your towel and falling back onto your pillows, hands already caressing your breasts.

You’re a Christian not a robot. Of course you masturbate. Sure you feel ashamed. You can hear your mother’s voice chide about how sinful it is but that all melts away when your little fingers slide between your wet folds. Shame can wait.

Being the menace in your life that he is, the eldest Todoroki chose that exact moment to barge into your room unannounced.

You scramble for your covers trying your best to preserve some modesty but it’s too late, you’ve been caught. You shriek in terror.

“Oh my god!” Dabi practically cackles.

“Dabi! It’s not what it looks like I swear.”

“Oh really?” He stalks over to your bed with the predatory grin on his face. “Because to me it looks like my innocent, holier than though baby sister is a nasty, little, closet pervert.” He’s now straddling you over your covers, you want to fight him off but that would mean letting go over your duvet and you know once you do that, it’s over. Dabi has the upper hand though. Soon he’s got both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinned above your head. His other hand, almost immediately, is pulling the down the covers, revealing your naked torso to him. “Huh.’ He muses as he palms one of your breasts. “Seems like it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Dabi! Get off me!” You squirm under him but he’s too heavy so it’s no use.

“Nice tits Sis.” Dabi ignores your protests. “I don’t get why you keep them hidden.”

“I’m not your sister you creep!” you say with as much venom as you can muster.

“Aw princess,” he pouts and moves his hand up to cup your jaw, squeezing your cheeks harshly “it hurts your Nii-san’s feelings when you talk to him like that. I wonder what our parents would think. Should I tell them how filthy their sweet, little daughter really is?”

He revels in the fear in your eyes. You shake your head frantically. “No Dabi please! Please don’t tell them.” You whimper, words garbled.

“Don’t tell them what little sister? What were you doing?” He smirks. His hand goes back to your breast, this time to tweak your nipple.

The sadistic freak. Was he really going to make you say it? He answers your silent question with a sharp smack to your breast.

“I-I was masturbating.” You mumble, squeezing your eyes shut, cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“No, you weren’t”  he says as a matter of fact before pinching your already stiff nipple making your eyes shoot open and you yelp in pain. “You were playing with your little virgin cunt. Now say it.”

There is no way you could say those words. Has he not humiliated you enough? You try once again to break free but he’s got an iron grip on your wrists and he’s sitting on top of your thighs. There’s no way you’re getting out of this.

He pinches you again but harder this time, twisting your nipple and keeping it there.

“I was ah­ I was playing with my v-v-irgin c- Dabi! Cunt! There I said it! Let go!”

He snickers at your pain but let’s go of you entirely, shifting his weight off of you. You’re grateful for the reprieve, immediately pulling up the covers to cover up your body again. You will yourself not to cry until Dabi has left the room or else you’ll never hear the end of it. But he’s not finished with you yet.

“Show me.” He sits down on your desk chair facing you, his legs spread wide.

“What?” Surely you misheard him.

“Show your Nii-san how you play with that ‘little virgin cunt’” He smiles using air quotations.

“Dabi, this is wrong-“ you whimper

“Touya-nii.” You furrow your brows in confusion and he says again. “Call me Touya-nii. I’m not leaving this room until I see what I want.”

Say what you want about Dabi but he’s a man of his word. You know he means what he says. The last thing you want is for anyone in your family to come home and find you naked in your room with your step-brother. It’s just better to do what he asks demands.

You slowly peel the covers off you, exposing your naked body to your step brother. He’s eyeing you intently, palming the growing bulge under his jeans. His sister was hiding such a hot little body, right under his roof and he had no idea. You can’t bear to look at him. You clamp your thighs shut to hide your pussy from him, a weak attempt to save what’s left of your dignity. You wriggle your hand in between your legs and you try to move it as best you can without showing him more of you.

Wait.

You’re wet?

You’re wet.

Well screw dignity I guess.

“Oh none of that.” Touya scoffs. “Spread your legs.”

You obey him and he rewards you with a low whistle. “What a cute little pussy.” He murmurs so low you’re not even sure he’s talking to you. You flinch, wanting to close your legs on instinct but a firm “Don’t” from Dabi stops you in your tracks. “Show me how my little sister likes to play.”

His words make your pussy throb but you’re still reeling, both physically and mentally at, the shock from your current position so when your fingers try to rub circles on your clit, they’re shaky and sloppy.

“That’s pathetic. Is this how you do it? No wonder you’re so uptight, you probably never cum huh? Put your fingers inside, I wanna see you stretch your little hole.”

“Dabi I-“

“I won’t ask you to address me properly again. Next time, you’re getting your ass beat.”

“T-Touya-nii. I’ve never… put them inside.” You mumble.

“Never?” He can’t hide the amusement in his voice.

You simply shake your head, unable to meet his gaze.

Fucking jackpot. He thinks.  This is why he loves virgins.

“Oh no. Does the poor baby want her Nii-san to show her how it’s done?” voice dripping with condescension.

You’re horribly ashamed. Disgusted by the whole situation. And yet you find yourself nodding.

Dabi crawls on to your bed, discarding his shirt in the process. Next thing he has you flipped over, ass in the air, lying across his lap.

He spanks you, hard. Like he always does, loud smack echoing through the room. You cry out like you always do but it’s different this time. It’s different because this time you’re naked, on top of him. It’s different because you can feel his hard-on poking into your stomach. It’s different because everything about the situation is making you clench.

He grips the sore, reddened flesh and pulls apart your cheeks to look right at your fluttering hole. His thumb finds your clit and he starts to rub slow circles into it. “I meant what said you know. This is the prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen.” You let out a whine as you feel his warm, wet spit land right on your opening, before Touya slides a long, slender middle finger into your tight pussy. He uses his other hand to hit you again. “You’re a good girl right? What do good girl’s say when they get compliments?”

Your head is spinning from his ministrations, so much so that a verbal response escapes you. You’re too busy bucking your hips against his hand. Dabi snaps you out of your trance with another spank, even harder, so your feel the sting spread across your glute. “Hnnghh… thank you Touya-nii.” He rewards you with his ring finger finding its way inside you as well. “Shit.” You say through gritted teeth. You clench around him trying to adjust to the foreign sensation.

Whack. This time on the other cheek, both burning red by now, you’re sure. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, naughty girl?” The way he’s moving his fingers inside you feels like he’s looking for something, you have no idea what. It’s not unpleasant but uncomfortable. You turn your head back to look at his face. It’s the same face he makes when he’s rolling a joint or playing video games with his friends. He’s concentrating. “Fuck, relax for me princess.” You’re trying. You’re really trying. You take a deep breath, trying to think about anything other than the way you’re being stretched.

Then it hits you. An overwhelming ecstasy, spreading from your groin, all the way down to your toes. You figure out that’s what he’s been looking for.

You find yourself grinding down onto his bulge in an attempt to escape the onslaught of his fingers, but it’s no use, not with the way his thumb is circling your throbbing clit.

“Can’t even take two fingers in this tiny pussy huh? How are you gonna take my cock?” Dabi gives you a third finger and the stretch is officially unbearable.

You can’t do anything but pant in his lap while he holds you down, making sure that you keep still. Suddenly, you realise the gravity of the circumstances you find yourself in. Your step brother is going to fuck you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“God, please slow down!” You cry out. He keeps hitting that spot over and over. It’s too much. You look back at him with tears in your eyes, pleading for reprieve. The satisfied smile on his face lets you know that he couldn’t care less. You feel an orgasm building, stronger than any that you’ve given yourself.

“No God here, doll. Just the Almighty Dabi. And guess what? He wants you to come for him.”

Even before he finishes his sentence, you’re already convulsing on top of him. For a moment you forget how debauched the situation is. Being debased by a man who you not only despise but are related to. All feelings of shame are replaced by pure, hot bliss that sets your nerves on fire. Dabi does not relent. Not until the please you feel is eclipsed by the pain of oversensitivity and you’re writhing in futile attempt to escape.

Dabi pulls his fingers out of you and wraps his other hand around your neck, dragging you up to face him. He holds his fingers, covered in your cream, right in front of your face. “Messy slut. Clean them.”

Before you can respond the fingers press against your lips. You have no choice but to take them inside your mouth. He grips the back of your head while you lave your tongue over his fingers, sucking off your release. He’s keeps a tension on your strands that makes your scalp sting. It’s a silent warning to keep your eyes on him. You’ve caught on by now that he wants this to be as humiliating as possible for you. As if coming on your step-brother’s fingers weren’t humiliating enough. He shoves his fingers deeper, making you gag around them drool seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“Good girl.” He growls as he wipes his saliva covered fingers dry on your face. Again, you fight back the tears of embarrassment. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Dabi prompts you with cruel tug on your hair. “Gah! Th-thank you Touya-nii.” You whimper.

“Hmm.” His hands move to your hips and he rolls his hips to grind his hard cock into your core. “You want Nii-san to fuck you now?”

Your bottom lip quivers. Is he giving you an out? You pray to God that Dabi is giving you a way out of this. You doubt God cares about what you want right now but still, you hope he can grant you this one mercy, you’ll make it up to him somehow. You shake your head no. You probably look so pitiful right now, naked on top of Touya while he bucks up against you, your own spit streaked across your face, barely stopping the tears in your eyes from spilling.

“Liar.” He sneers. “You want your big brother to split that virgin hole right open.”

You’re stupid for thinking he would give you a way out. You realise that now. No point in trying not to cry. Nothing is gonna stop him from getting what he wants anyway. You can’t hold back the choked sobs anymore

“Such pretty tears, baby.” Dabi coos at you. “Don’t worry. Nii-san is gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He picks you up off of him and positions you exactly how he wants, on all fours, swollen cunt exposed for him. He kneels behind you and you hear the sounds of him undoing his jeans. You turn your head back, curiosity getting the better of you. Your eyes find Dabi just in time to see him free himself from his boxers, which join his jeans bunched at is knees. The sight makes your eyes go wide. It’s your first time seeing one in real life. Were they supposed to be that big? And… pierced?

He quirks a brow at you, smug look plastered on his face. He strokes himself in front of you, spreading his pre-cum along his shaft. He’s tilts it upwards to make sure you get a good look at the vertical barbell that goes through his tip and three horizontal, parallel bars along the underside. “You look scared. Don’t worry princess, Big brother Dabi’s gonna make it fit.” You feel his tip press against your opening and brace yourself.

You’ve heard stories from your friends. You know the first time hurts but God nothing could have prepared you for this .Touya makes good on his word, sliding his entirely until your pressed right against his pelvis. The scream you let out is ear shattering but you can’t help it, the stretch is excruciating. The way his piercings catch on your walls only, intensifies the burn. You crawl toward your headboard instinctively, it’s too much. Way too much.

He’s not having any of it. Dabi pulls you up to him with a hand wrapped around your throat until your back meets his front. “Shh shh shh. Don’t run baby. You’re gonna take all of it.” He groans right against your ear. Without giving you time to adjust, he begins to thrust into you at a relentless pace. You have no choice but to let him use you.

“Who’s fucking you huh? Who’s making you feel good?”

“My nii-san. Touya-nii is fucking me so good.”

“Yeah fuck. Love this holy pussy” He delivers a harsh smack directly on to your clit, making you quiver in his hold. He laughs at your reaction. “Gonna say a prayer for me babe? I wanna hear it.”

“Huh?” You’re barely lucid, there’s no way you heard him correctly.

“Well you’re a little sinner slut now. You should probably ask for forgiveness. Pray.”

You’re sure you’re beyond salvation now but you submit nonetheless. “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love; according to Your great compassion.” You gasp as he tightens his hand around your throat. “Against You, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight. Oh fuck Touya-nii!”

“Bad girl.” Dabi gives you another strike right on your aching clit. “Don’t think God is gonna be very happy with you.” Dabi is though. Dabi’s very happy with you. Your tight, gummy pussy sucks him back in every time he pulls back. It just makes him fuck you harder, he wants to make you scream louder for him.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Ngggghh Shit. Do not cast me from Your presence or take Your Holy Spirit from me.” You’re sobbing outright, gasping to get air into your constricted throat.

“You gonna cum? My bad girl gonna come for her big brother?” Dabi grunts into your ear.

“Yeah close Touya-nii.”

“Hmm me too.”

“NOT INSIDE TOUYA-NII” You begin to thrash in his arms.

“S’matter princess? Don’t wanna have your big brother’s babies? That’s hurtful.” He snickers. He releases your throat in favour of pressing you into the mattress, large hand resting between your shoulder blades. “Better cum before I do then.”

The ridges of his piercings rub up against that same sweet spot, over and over again. You’re dizzy from the lack of air and absolutely drunk with pleasure on his cock. Pretty much the only thing tethering you to this existence is the unforgiving grip he has on your ass, digging his nails into your flesh. He reaches his hand around to rub your sore, puffy clit. It pushes you over the edge a second time. You feel every muscle contract and relax as the waves of your orgasm wash over you, making you cry out in bliss.

As soon as you come down from your high, Dabi has you flipped on to your back and is straddling your torso. “Keep praying.” He mutters. He furrows his brows, huffing as he jerks off on top of you, eyes focused intently on your gold necklace.

“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me. Then will I teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will turn back to You. Amen”

“Yeah, fuck that’s it take it baby.” Dabi sprays his come over your chest, aiming his load right on your cross, a symbol of your devotion to Christ, defiled. He looks absolutely euphoric watching the ropes of his hot cum slowly run down onto your nipples and down the valley of your breasts

“Don’t you fucking move.” He pants, catching his breath. He picks up his phone and you hear his camera click. He looks at the picture and smiles. You look absolutely fucked out. Hair disheveled, face red and bloated from crying and completely covered in his load. Yeah a real good, Christian girl. He thinks.

“Dabi! No!” You lunge forward, trying to grab his phone from his hand. Almost effortlessly, Touya shoves you back onto the bed.

“Relax. No one’s gonna see it. Not unless you snitch to mommy and daddy.”

“You promise?” You grab the tissues from your nightstand and wipe yourself clean. The smell lingers though, along with the grimy feeling, seemingly embedded in your skin. You look up at him, sniffling, tears still rolling down your cheeks. If he were better person, he’d take pity on you for being so fucking stupid.

“Promise, little sis.” He shoots you a wink as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

Before he’s left your room he’s already sent the picture to his friend, Shigaraki.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Avery the Fae/Reader, Lemon

You don’t dress up for Halloween.

Not your fault, though, really, because your professors show no mercy for holidays, especially not ones that don’t land them a day off. Classes go on as usual, and so you wake up the latest you can without risking a tardy and go off in the comfortable clothes you slept in. Except for some cat ears and one superman, everything is perfectly normal, and the day passes like almost every other, save for a ‘spooky drink’ coupon at the local cafe.

I probably don’t even need a costume, anyways, you think as you catch your reflection when passing those special mirror-like windows on one of the campus’ buildings. Frankly, you look like you crawled out of hell itself. Dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep, hair all askew and uncooperative, mouth in a permanent stressed line.

A zombie, probably, you decide, taking a sip of that hot caffeinated mess you ordered from the cafe. A hot zombie, for sure, but a zombie no less. A part of you wants to skip your next class and take a nap, but you’ve already used up your one absence, and you aren’t in a position to risk your grade for sleep. No rest for the wicked, right? Right. Everything else goes as smoothly as can be expected for being sleep deprived, and the night class seems to drag on for a fully stretched eternity, but you are finally free to go home and do your five hours of homework. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can squeeze in two or three hours of sleep.

It’s because you’re tired, you think, stopping for a hot minute when you realize that you’re lost. You hadn’t been paying attention to campus’ many twists and turns in its paths, and so you must have wandered away from the buildings and onto the forest trail that hugs the dorms, except there’s no cement beneath your feet. Not even a dirt trail marks a way out, and you take a full moment to come to terms with being lost, on your own damn campus, no less. You aren’t any kind of simpering pansy, so you turn around and begin to retrace your steps. Which doesn’t work, unfortunately, because after a couple of minutes of walking, there’s nothing to suggest that you’re only a couple of paces from civilization.

Except a drum beat, behind you. It’s faint, probably a half-mile away, but it’s the closest thing you have to a way back, especially since your phone can’t seem to pick up any signal. Maybe one of the school’s many bands are practicing? Right, you’re just going to stumble out into the football field, twigs in your hair, looking very much like you’ve gotten into a fist-fight with the entire forest…

And… Not a band, you realize, stepping into a clearing, but a party.

A costume party, too, by the looks of it, with everyone in soft, flittery clothing and fitted masks. Interesting how everyone seems to be on the same page with the dress code, there’s usually that one dick who shows up in a hotdog suit, regardless of any previous agreements. Elegant is the word you’re looking for, you decide, running into something tall and solider, correction: running into someone tall and solid.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” you apologize, shifting your weight on either foot, “I’m a little lost.”

“I think that you are right where you want to be,” your stranger says, mouth turning up into a strange, fanged smile. His black mask is trimmed with gold, and it doesn’t seem like he’s costuming as anything specific; rather, it appears to be just for anonymity.

“I think I really want to be in bed,” you say, trying to share a mutual we’re in college and want to die of exhaustion moment, but he doesn’t respond with the same energy.

“Perhaps a drink of wine before you go?” He offers, holding out an actual goblet of some kind. Maybe the metal-working students pitched in? Or accepted a particular commissioned order? It looks like genuine gold, which adds to the whole aesthetic of the party.

“Uh,” don’t accept drinks you haven’t seen made, “I’m good for now, really. Just trying to get back home to study.”

“Hm,” he says, taking a good swig from the goblet he had just offered, “good question. Through the trees from whence you came, most likely.”

Of fucking course, he’s drunk and doesn’t know left from right. Great. What an excellent position you’ve put yourself in. Frustrated and confident he wouldn’t roofie himself, you snatch the goblet from his hand and down several large gulps of shockingly sweet wine, maybe a sangria? Or something sugared up to be palatable?

Swirling the goblet around, to seem sophisticated, you ask, “so is this some kind of rich person party? Like an Illuminati meeting or something?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you speak of.”

“Right.” You draw out the single syllable, landing hard on the t. LARPers, probably, but not unattractive ones. Those masks don’t hide everything, and the shape of his jaw is not something to balk at, and those lips? Not to be forward in your own brain or anything, but they’re certainly decent to look at. This has to be some kind of weird-ass club, or like a rich dumbass ritual or something, definitely not your average frat party with a variety of random drugs mixed into the mystery punch. “Do you go to school here?”

He looks down at your university sweatshirt, cocking his head slightly. “A place of learning, is it? No, I’m afraid I have not attended such an institution, but I must admit that I have been tempted.”

“Well,” you take another sip of wine, “it’s not bad, as far as universities go. With decent financial aid, too.”

“Best not to drink too much of that,” your stranger says, “it’s much stronger than it tastes, and it’s best you stay clear-headed for the evening’s festivities.”

“One cup can’t hurt,” you say, and then realize that he’s just volunteered you to join in on the fun. Which is kind of weird, you guess, but then again, you aren’t going to complain. This is a way more interesting place to spend your evening, but might as well prop your backpack underneath one of the tables, hiding it beneath the skirt of the pale white cloth. You eye the unmarked bottle that one of the party-goers holds, but set your goblet down by the expensive-looking chinaware, flexing your fingers as they begin to tingle with the warmness that comes with alcohol. “What’s the party’s theme?”

He cocks his head, as though confused.

“Like a…” you try to think of a different way to phrase it. “A topic you pick, and everyone has to adhere to it. The people here all look like they’re, like, what Victorian thought the fairies looked like or something. I think it’s the clothes.”

“We are Faeries, though,” he says, the sides of his mouth curving upwards.

“Hm,” you say, “of course you are.”

“Join me for this dance?” Your stranger asks instead of any rebuttals, holding out a hand.

You look over at the band that plays, masks of distinct animal-like features flickering in the light of the bonfire roaring in the center of the clearing, all instruments vaguely familiar, yet not. Some of them you think you’ve seen before, at maybe renaissance-themed festivals, but the others must be from some kind of distinctly obscure genre of music.

The heat from the fire seems to lick out at your fingers, or maybe it’s the alcohol, already making its way through your system, but you stare, transfixed, at the way the lyre player plucks at the strings of their instrument. The quick movement plays too much with your eyes, you barely see anything more than the blurs of fingers, and you suddenly realize that you are swaying in place.

“I don’t know how,” you say, snapping out of whatever trance you had been in.

“It’s rather simple, come here,” he takes one of your hands, shockingly not unwelcome. Perhaps the warmth of his skin against yours brings you a kind of peace that you need during this period of your life. “I will teach you.”

Your stranger is correct; the dance is fairly simple to learn, mostly because there are very few rules. Sway your hips. Let your feet bounce against the soft forest floor. Let him spin you around and around until your head almost feels light. You’ll be honest, he’s the one doing all the work, guiding you, adding more flair to your steps, one hand resting on your waist, the other weaving its fingers with yours. Now, you may not be one to go out and ballroom dance on the fly, but you would be alright admitting that this is kind of fun.

So you dance. And you dance. And you continue dancing, letting the music remove you from time and space, everything else fades away except for the thrumming drumbeat, the wind in the trees, and your partner. You don’t feel the need to gasp for air, nor do your legs give out and collapse, but you aren’t even aware of how much time has passed. You dance out your pain, your stress, and any alcohol that lingers in your system, a layer of sweat keeping your body cool in the autumn night’s air. An eternity, perhaps, a small piece of infinity shared between you and this stranger, or the briefest of moments that still yield the most intimate bit of time that two people can share.

The song ends- or perhaps, the band finally runs out of music to play. You don’t know what time it is, but you aren’t finished with the party, not yet. The stranger sets his hands on both your hips, eyes as red as the fires of hell, and offers you a promising smile, his shirt loosely clinging to his body, having lost the fancily embroidered vest at some point while dancing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask, making a snap decision not to let the night go to waste.

His smile widens.

The trees are your only audience when he brings you away from the rest of the party, the moon staring over the tops of the red and yellow leaves. The chill of the night might have discouraged anyone else, but you are broiling with energy and ready to continue moving wildly to keep warm. Despite barely being out of sight, you’re already working on his clothes, trying to find velcro or snaps of a cheap costume and failing rather miserably. He seems amused with your attempts, guiding your hands to find a variation of ties and buttons. Soon enough, you have his shirt off, his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, revealing a chest etched in dozens of tattoos, red like blood against his pale skin, though it’s too dark to make out precisely what they are.

He seems to have a destination in mind, even though you steal most of his attention with kisses and touches. Even though you are in a place you’re sure no one would bother finding you in, he still seems determined to herd your desperate body further away from the camp, until the both of you get to a clearing, free of roots strangling the ground. Jupiter and Saturn stare blankly down from their perches in the sky, the stars surrounding them twinkling, as though applauding your conquest.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you gasp after a breathless kiss.

He pauses, almost put off by the request, like he’s startled you would even ask. Before you can even regain the ability to feel nervous, he says, “Avery.”

“Avery,” you repeat, running your fingers through his hair. “That’s a nice name.”

“And what may I call you?”

Like a fool, you give up your first name without much thought, but you are too excited about where the night is going to remember what you said even a second later. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, because his mouth is against yours, and your back is on the cold, dewy grass before you even register that he pulled your legs off balance. He’s a good kisser, you think hazily, his lips traveling down from your mouth to your collarbone. His mouth is nice and hot against your skin, already sending pleasant little shivers down your spine as he works, and you find yourself grasping at the cold, dying grass of the earth in order to pull your spirit back to reality.

The insides of your belly melt as he lifts your shirt up over your breasts, and you’re quick to discard the garment as he sucks at the skin just above the hemline of your pants. He needs help with the button and the zipper, his lithe fingers struggling to figure out the mechanics, so you undo everything for him. After letting out a thankful grunt, he leans forward, pressing his lips right on your stomach, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark that may bruise in the morning.

Then he kisses the skin just above where your underwear ends, a jolting shiver pulsing through your core at the contact. When you glance down at him, the barest light emanating from the roaring bonfire only a few meters away, he seems so… focused, you think, at his task of slowly stripping the last bit of fabric away from your body. Methodically, he tugs, fingers threading through the straps at the side, his eyes glimmering in the light bleeding out from the moon herself.

Slowly, steadily, he presses his mouth where your leg and torso meet, nibbling at a bit of flesh before moving ever so slightly downwards, opening your legs and seemingly liking what he finds down there. Carefully avoiding any of your puckered, wet skin, he instead moves his lips just to the side, clearly enjoying the act of driving you to the brink of insanity. You can feel the smile he wears as he teases you further, switching over to your other thigh.

Almost impatiently, you wrap one of your legs around his shoulder, arching your back when he finally lashes his tongue out to trace the outline of your flower. A heated spark ignites through your nerves, a charge of fiery need flooding your body and into your core. He seems to enjoy the breathless whine you offered in response because he does it again, inching closer and closer to your clit.

Roughly, you tangle your fingers into his long, flowing hair, pulling him closer and begging with no words for him to stop teasing and finally give you the pleasure you need. Avery finally complies, pressing his tongue right up against your clit and tracing little circles on and around it. The heat of his breath only helps further stir the coals in your womb, your back arching against the gentle curve of the world as you cry out.

He seems to deeply enjoy your keening, popping off your puckered flesh in the brief moment it takes for him to smile up at you, like a beast satisfied with the tortured screams of its prey. The way his tongue moves up, around, and down your clit makes you want to die, dirt clinging underneath your fingernails, bits of grass tearing as you claw at the ground. Still, he takes your keening reaction to double his efforts, using his fingers when his mouth is busy elsewhere, rubbing gentle little patterns in the opening of your slit.

There, you can feel your orgasm approaching as he begins to explore your core with his thumb, pushing and rubbing against the throbbing folds with some level of curiosity in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a passing observation.

You’re so beyond the point of return that you could barely even draw in the words to thank him before you’re overcome with shaking trembles emanating from your very core, your insides quick to bend and break at his beckoning. It doesn’t take much more teasing from Avery before you’re crying out for him, voice cracking with pleasure and desperation, your fingers threading through his hair so tightly you don’t know where you end, and he begins.

When you are nothing more than a heaping, teary-eyed mass of trembling flesh on the ground, he crawls up from between your legs, kisses your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, your collarbone, all the way up to your mouth once more. You can taste yourself on his tongue and lips, warmer than the wine and almost twice as intoxicating, and by the wild stare in his eyes, he’s drunk with your nectar. And, quite frankly, ready to devour you, his kisses all teeth and heat, mouth dexterous against the curves, rises, and plateaus of your body, like he knows so very intimately every square centimeter of you.

There’s a hard rock length against your stomach, one that you can feel, almost tragically against your skin as he lavishes your lips and chest with his blessed attention. Even though you walked into this situation expecting a one-night stand, you don’t know, this feels light it could rocket through your life and end up becoming

“More,” you rasp, surprised that your voice is even working, ” more.”

He understands that rough and demanding command, stroking your hair with one of his free hands, mouth offering up a myriad of kisses to your neck and collarbone, an odd, overcoming need to please you emanating off of him, one like you’ve never dealt with before. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see the familiar masks of those at the party earlier, but Avery turns your wandering gaze back to him with his insistent, feral kiss, his chest trembling with heated need.

“Do you want my cock inside you?” He asks, wanting to hear you say it.

“Please,” you almost snarl, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Hmm,” he almost manages to fool you that he could care less, but by the way his body grinds and presses against yours, he’s so, so close to traveling the radius of the earth itself to comply. You can hear the rustle of fabric as he strips away what’s left of his ensemble, moving away from your body and leaving you almost horrifically cold.

It doesn’t take a lot for him to angle your legs properly, your thigh rubbing up against his throbbing member. He’s at least gentle with how he impales you, his entrance slow and gradual, kaleidoscope eyes staring so intently into your very being that you wonder if you’ll survive the next time pleasure crashes down around you. And he feels so good, the crisp, autumn grass against your back the only thing keeping you from becoming so lost beneath his trembling body.

He must share your thoughts because even though he’s only eased in, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing is short and shallow like he could hardly believe the pleasure your body gives him. Once he’s fully sheathed, he swears, voice quiet, yet filled to the brim with lust. You wrap your legs around his waist, hoping to feel him further, your voice and your body begging him to continue, to move, but he’s almost in a trance.

You’re impatient for movement, for that slick friction between your thighs, so you quickly take matters into your own hands. With no finesse, fueled only by spite and determination, you shift, switching positions using your legs and arms. Avery simply rolls with it, a ghostly smile on his mouth as you pin his hands to the ground, chest heaving from the effort, a layer of sweat misting your skin despite the chill of the night.

That seems to break whatever space he had retreated to, eyes lit like a roaring forest fire as he beholds your body from beneath your legs. His voice is raspy, but the demand is calm, collected, like he’s waited for thousands of years for this, for you. “Use me.”

You let out a breath, steadying yourself on his body to comply, and grind. His eyes roll back as you do, starting slowly, his back arching off the ground, his chest heaving with pleasure at the loss of control. Careful to control the pace, you let yourself be taken by the pleasure, the joining slick and hot, your core roaring with approval and greed. More, more, more.

Everything is suddenly vibrantly alive, the forest rustling with a wind you don’t feel, crickets singing hymns in the open field, the moon herself licking at your bodies with her soft, precious light. You think you hear chanting in the distance, your brain muddled with his delicious praises and lust that you don’t try to investigate, too focused on feeling his length pulse and move through your folds. Tears prick at your eyes, not from sadness, no, and you couldn’t possibly know their purpose because this feels so good, like his body was made for you.

This climax almost hurts, you felt it approaching and you knew it would be a lot, so you brace yourself, both hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline. You look into his eyes, and you see… more, than just fundamental attraction, more than pure, unadulterated lust, but you’re so far gone you can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, before you’re overcome.

Everything in your body is aflame, your core quaking enough to make you think, for just a brief moment, that the earth itself is tearing apart, you cry, you whine, you scream for him, and he’s there, holding onto you for dear life. Telling you that you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, that you’ll never want another man so long as your legs are wrapped around him so tightly like this. You think you believe him, gasping for air, fingernails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood, though he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

It takes a lot of concentration to bring yourself back into your body, your soul and spirit so besotted with desire, but you manage it, feeling his hands grip your thighs so tightly his fingers may leave bruise marks. You bend forward, letting him take the reins as you try to stay present enough in the moment to kiss and nip at his neck, teeth tugging at his skin, the aftershocks still moving through your nerves like waves on a storming night. Still, though, you want him to feel what you did, to become undone by your hand.

And he does, his thrusts becoming so uneven that you begin to grind, ghosts of your orgasm weaving through your flesh and womb. A crescendo of noise seems to overtake the clearing, the air becoming like static, the hairs on your arms standing on end. Overcome, he curses and snarls in a language you don’t understand, his voice hard and soft at the same time, his hips jerking as something warm and wet pulses out of his member, filling you up and spilling out onto his pelvis.

Avery sits up, still joined within you, shaken, but startlingly and brilliantly alive, chest heaving with the effort of breathing. He presses his mouth against yours in a myriad of kisses, soft, possessive, tender, needy. There is still some amount of desire on his lips, but without the same uncontrollable yearning broiling just beneath his fevered skin like before.

Then he says your name, and a shiver goes down your spine, your very being somehow attentive to whatever he says next, as though your entire universe suddenly floods down and descends on this one, single person. He says it again, rolling it over his tongue like a wine taster, trying out each of the letters as though they offer a different kind of sweetness, his eyes just as wild as they had been when you held him pinned to the grass. A sliver of fear pierces your chest, making you want to push him onto the ground and take him again, but he has other plans.

“I’ll walk you back, dove,” he says, pressing his mouth against your collarbone, though he doesn’t kiss you again, not yet. “The sun will soon be up.”

[ultralovedeluxe]

Hey I love your work! Would you mind doing Rohan with prompts 41 and 43 whenever you can? And maybe nsfw if your comfortable? 👉🏼👈🏼

Have a good day/evening!

Oml I love YOU so much! I'm a big fan of your work so I was nervous when writing this (it's very rushed oml), I hope you enjoy though!

Yandere! Rohan Kishibe with prompts #41 and #43

'I'm all you have left now'

'They didn't know you belonged to me so I had to get rid of them!'

Warnings: yandere behaviors, cheating accusations, manipulation, slut-shaming, inappropriate use of stands, non/dub con, blow-jobs, nsfw

Dating the famous mangaka Kishibe Rohan would be an honor to most people. He's a man of power and fame, who wouldn't want to be with him? The moms who hang out at the park always tell you that you should feel like the luckiest person in the world. They'd tell you that a million girls would kill to be in your shoes.

Although you love Rohan with all your heart (and you should feel deserving of his love), you sometimes start to wonder if dating the great Kishibe Rohan is worth it.

You met Rohan at an art exhibit in France. You had been a model for several pieces in that said exhibit, so obviously you had to come along for the event. Meeting Rohan was a love at first sight. He had asked if you would want to model for him sometime, and you had agreed. Soon after one visit and project, came after another, and then another, until you were working mainly with the mangaka. You can't say you didn't like it though, you enjoyed being in Rohan's presence. He was chivalrous when he wanted to be, and you found his sarcastic nature be quite humorous in fact. You spent so much time with Rohan in fact, you would have considered him a friend. Your relationship with the mangaka was no longer just work related, the both of you had become good friends.

However, the real problem in your friendship with Rohan began to show when your parents were involved. Your parents tolerated Rohan (or at least you thought they did), but they were getting annoyed with the fact the mangaka kept hogging your time. You should be modeling with professional photographers, or modeling for famous designers. But instead you're being used as reference from some manga artist in Japan.

You understood your parent's point of view in the subject, but you enjoyed working with Rohan more than you did any other project you had worked on. You continued to visit Rohan, despite your parent's protests (and Rohan couldn't have been happier).

The more visits that happened, the closer you got to the mangaka. It wasn't long before Rohan had asked you on a date. Eventually multiple dates leaded to the both of you starting a relationship. You knew your parents would hate Rohan even more now, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd always tell you that he didn't care what your parents thought about him, he was content with having you as a partner. Even if your parents did find out about your secret relationship, you highly doubt they would react dramatically. Sure, they'd really, really dislike it, but they wouldn't disown you for it. After all you were a grown adult, you should be able to make your own decisions right?

At least that's what you thought. One day, Rohan made an unexpected visit on your front door step. You didn't expect for him to be there, nor did you know how he got your address (considering the fact you lived in a completely different continent), but you didn't think much of it since you thought this could be your chance to properly introduce Rohan to your parents.

The introduction went by smoothly, Rohan was getting along with your parents, and your parents seemed to accept that Rohan was your partner. However, it did seem a bit suspicious that your parent's dislike of Rohan turned into an approval almost in a span of a few minutes. They had even agreed to let you move out with Rohan. While you could admit that you and Rohan had been planning to live in Morioh-Cho together, you didn't think it'd happen instantly. And that your parents would agree nonetheless. Regardless, you and Rohan accepted your parent's blessing's and left France.

You vividly remembered on your plane flight to Morioh-Cho, Rohan had whispered in your ear while stroking your hair softly, "You must be lucky to have me right [first]? I'm all you have left now.."

-

Life in Morioh-Cho was sweet to say the least. It was a drastic change from living in a fashion capital of the world, to a small quiet place where there was much to do. Nevertheless, you truly enjoyed your new life, it was better than going to photoshoots every week. Speaking of which, you never do photoshoots anymore. Rohan convinced you to quit your job as a model (since he is wealthy enough to provide for the both of you anyway), and you had agreed. Though, every time you mentioned getting a job to Rohan, he'd simply call you an idiot for wanting to work. He'd ask you if he needed step up his game for you, and you'd only close your mouth in the conversation.

Your relationship with Rohan was a drastic change too. From what was sweet, humble dates every weekend, went to being locked in a home for what was everyday. Rohan would spend hours in his art studio, drawing multiple pages for his manga. He'd tell you to not go out while he was working. But even then, that's most of the time.

You'd be lying if you didn't find this type of behavior weird.

-

"I'm leaving to go visit Italy for a couple of days [first]. Do you remember the rules?"

You nodded and kissed Rohan's cheek before handing him his suitcase. "Don't go outside unless we run out of groceries, don't let people inside-" Rohan cut you off "Especially those idiots Josuke and Okuyasu" he said scoffing at his distaste for the boys. You only sighed in response, "Especially Josuke and Okuyasu. Hope you have a good trip love" you smiled holding his hands close to your chest. Rohan kissed your lips softly and mumbled a quick 'goodbye' before leaving your shared home. You sighed and walked into the kitchen, before sitting down on a chair. You respected his rules, and you didn't want to lie to him, but you were bored out of your mind. You wanted to go out and have fun. Not to mention, although you know that Rohan could buy you whatever you wanted; but you wanted to have some money of your own. You can't rely on Rohan forever. You had decided that tomorrow you'd start looking for a job (any job, part-time even, you just wanted some type of job to keep you entertained for a while). Rohan would get mad sure, but you promised you'd discuss when he'd come back. You were sure he'd support you

You were sure of it.

-

Looking for a job was harder than you thought. It seemed that nobody wanted to hire somebody who only had 'model' on their resume. Sometimes you'd wish you had taken on other jobs other than modeling, maybe then people would hire you. Regardless, you kept looking, desperate to find a job somewhere.

In the end, you ended up finding an Italian restaurant after hours of searching. You stepped in and was greeted a tall, blonde Italian man. "Hello good afternoon my name is Tonio, welcome to my restuarant" he greeted you while smiling at you sweetly. You smiled awkwardly and muttered a quick 'thank you', "Um Tonio san, I'm not here to eat..but I'd like to ask you if you are hiring. I can't cook, but I can be a waitress!-" you exclaimed, leaving Tonio in a small shock. He looked at you up and down before smiling at you once again, "Well I don't usually hire people since I'm doing good on my own, but I guess a little help wouldn't hurt.." he told you. You smiled back and hugged him, "Oh thank you so much! You don't know how much I struggled finding a job today-" you let him go, "Uhm, sorry.." you mumbled. He chuckled and led you to a table.

The two of you talked a bit for a while, you told hima bout your modeling career and your relationships, while he told you about his journey to Japan and Italian cuisine. You both shared laughs and stories together, you had a good time. Your time with Tonio became even better when he officially had hired you as a waitress! You were happy, and you couldn't wait to tell Rohan when he got home!

"Well I'll see you next week Tonio!" you shouted as you left the door, carrying the bouquet of daisies Tonio had gifted you. Tonio smiled, "I'll see you then bambina!".

-

You arrive a little later than planned (guess you spent too much time talking to Tonio), but you finally made it home safe and sound. You might as well start cleaning, since you weren't going to sleep any time soon. As you opened the door, you were met face to face with Rohan. You dropped your daises on the floor, and began to think of all the apologies and excuses you could think of. But it was no use, excuses would only make Rohan's anger boil even more.

Why was he even here in the first place? Wasn't he supposed to be in Italy by now?!

"Rohan I-"

"Save it, I don't want to hear a word from you" Rohan growled angrily before walking towards you. He had pulled out a pen and you felt as if you passed out.

Rohan had used Heaven's Door to read the pages of your life. He looked for the information of today, and when he did, he was fuming. He read his newly learned information out loud, gripping onto your hair in the process, "This man named Tonio is so handsome, and he cooks too.. I feel like this skirt is a bit risqué, but oh well.." with that last sentence Rohan had the last straw. He removed his stand's effect on you, but not before writing a few things.

Once the effects of Heaven's Door were gone, you began to feel a heat between your legs. Noticing you were on your knees, you crawled your way to Rohan, "Rohann, feel so hot need you.." you mewled out. Rohan was furious with your previous behavior, but maybe this would help you learn a few things. "So you were tempted to cheat on me right? I bet you would’ve enjoyed if that Tonio flipped your skirt right?" he said slapping your face in the process. You whimpered, "No no no no, that's not true..please need you. Need you so bad" you were starting to tear up just by him insinuating you were going to cheat on him. Rohan looked down at you, gods you looked so pathetic, just like he wanted you to look like.

"Such a fucking slut" he said unbuckling his pants, eager to have your warm and needy mouth all around his cock. Once he finished doing that he looked at you dead in the eye, "Suck. Suck like the whore you are. Aren't you ashamed [first]? I bet you also sucked Tonio’s cock in that job interview right?” He said watching you as you sloppily sucked his cock. You probably aren’t even thinking right now, your just hungry for his cock right? Such a little slut. “And to think your parents didn’t like me. They just didn’t know you belonged to me. But that’s fine I had to get rid of them regardless..” he chuckled before he bucked his hips into your mouth repeatedly.

Rohan grabs you by the hair and begins to push your head down his member, sinking your mouth down to his pubes; much to your displeasure. At the moment however he didn’t care what you felt, sluts like you don’t mind right? He continued to do so for a few more seconds before he came in your mouth, groaning loudly. He came inside your mouth, and there was so much of it you couldn’t help but to cough some out.

You laid your head on his lap and breathed out softly, before Rohan lifted your chin up and grinned,

“Who said we were done?”

-

Dating the great Kishibe Rohan would be an honor to most people. Who wouldn’t want to be by his side. Unfortunately for you, dating Kishibe Rohan was not a glitter and sparkles.

Being Kishibe Rohan’s personal cum dump isn’t much better either.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.  

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.  

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”  

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.  

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(