@hellsking / hellsking.tumblr.com
So hey, hi, hello! I hear these little promos tend to get around a little faster than the bigger ones, so here we are! I’m just diving right in with a Tokyo Ghoul-based OC, and I’m throwing this out there to see if anyone would possibly be interested in writing with us? I’m crossover friendly, multiverse ( though I only have two, for the moment, oops) and of course, I welcome fellow OCs of any fandom with open arms! Please hit that heart and/or give us a reblog!
Every Kiss: #56 | 1.24 The Twizzle
bold what applies - italicize sometimes. repost, don’t reblog.
@hellsking said: ❝ you think you know me, huh? ❞ // old meme my dumb ass forgot
“Hm.”
Once upon a time those were fighting words. In the early days of their alliance tensions were high, tempers were hot, and Stan had thrown that very phrase in Lucien’s face during one of many verbal squabbles. You think you know me - it was then Lucien learned not to assume anything where Stan was concerned, for in truth, way back then he didn’t know him. The best he had to go on was the desire for an alliance, a desire to conquer the 8th by any means necessary, and biting the bullet to do so. The demon was a powerful warrior, and one hell of a leader, though beyond that he knew nothing where personal details were concerned. Stan LaVey was an enigma. Back then he was right to challenge Lucien on the latter’s assumptions.
Funny how things can change, isn’t it?
Now, when Stan says those same words, it remains a challenge with teasing air saved for those few moments they shared entirely alone. Lucien chuckles softly, the arm over his husband’s middle tightening ever so slightly to draw them impossibly closer to one another, nuzzling the shoulder his head rests upon. Eyes closed, still basking in the afterglow they share together, and he’s smiling to himself. If that is how they’re playing this time around, then very well. He’ll play along.
“I do not think, my love,” he practically purrs. Nails trace angry marks on Stan’s side, left in the aftermath of their lovemaking - his marks to match those left upon his body by his beloved - and his tender embrace dissipates, those fingers dancing across the broad expanse of blue chest laid bare before them. “I know I do, and yet you doubt me?”.
Regrettably his plan requires movement. From his favorite spot, all nestled up against Stan’s side with a strong arm encircling him and keeping them close, he shifts with a soft sigh, shaking his head with mock disappointment as he sits upright. His wandering hand braces, a leg slipping over Stan’s body so Lucien straddles his hips once again. From there his touch wanders; low, nearly to the point where their bodies touch, only to crawl upward at his teasing leisure. As it moves so too does Lucien, easing down to bring their bare skin together, chest to chest, and he might press his face against Stan’s throat.
“I know how your mind works. I have your heart…and in this room, I can bring you to your knees, and you cannot deny it." Again, he chuckles, low and dark, angling to murmuring near Stan’s ear. "So, I think that eliminates any question. I know you, inside and out - just as you know me.”
A moment’s pause, allowing that to hang between them while his free hand is on the move again; downward this time, on a slow path towards the junction where their bodies meet. “Though, perhaps I should demonstrate once more, just to be absolutely sure.”
“Cool, I didn’t know if you guys just ate cow meat or human flesh, so I made it half and half.” Brian got into the house and gently placed the pie onto the nearest table. It was unusual for the male to do something like this, to just bake someone anything, least of all a pie. But… Lucien LaVey has been such a huge help, even if it borne no fruit that the zombie felt bad for not paying it back. Plus… to owe someone from hell seemed like a very bad deal, so he might as well nip this in the bud.
Brian looked over the rather large, blue-skinned male, he wondered if the blue male was the same kind of demon as Dahlia… but there again, he wondered even more if that wasn’t super racist, so he didn’t linger much at the thought and simply rubbed the back of his head, a bit awkward about meeting Damien’s other dad. “Oh, I’m Brian, by the way, Brian Yu, not sure if Lucien ever spoke about me… but he’s been helping me and… I dunno, I figured I gotta repay somehow”
Aw, that’s a shame. That means he’ll have to save some for Lucien, too -- well, suppose he doesn’t have to, though that does not change the fact that he will.
The notion as a whole is absolutely precious, repaying a favor from one of Hell’s kings with food. Most often it is a soul to be traded, or a life, servitude, or perhaps an exchange of sorts, yet here they have meat pie. It’s adorable, truly it is, and it's certainly not the worst choice one could have made. Rarely is food a bad offering in their household, so regardless of how tame it may seem in comparison to the usual repayment methods, it will not go unappreciated, whether by the intended recipient or one of his hungry family members.
With the gift set down, his eyes flick to Brian, for a time he's wondering if the hunch is correct, that the soul he sought was indeed in their realm. It seems like this kid's got a good enough heart, and those kinds of folks don't end up in hell. Usually, anyway. Then again, reanimation can change a whole lot of things about a person, and Brian is scoring brownie points with them both, it seems, so there may be a little bias there. Can't help being a little fond of someone willing to go to the trouble of making food for you, after all.
“Of course he’s mentioned you. When he takes on a project like yours, he usually gives me details. When something keeps my husband so preoccupied, I certainly like to know why. “ But, Lucien isn’t the first to drop Brian’s name. Oh, no, it was conversations with Damien, actually. In fact, if it weren’t for Damien and the fondness with which he speaks of Brian here, no doubt talk of repayment would have happened at the very beginning. Lucien is good for that sort of thing...but that part, Stan keeps to himself.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I like putting faces to the names I keep hearing."
ofarson:
@hellsking sent : “ i’m one call away , okay ? just one call. “ / random sentence starters the third !
“ yeah, i know, pa. i got it. ”
just one call.
damien had dismissed the comment some time ago ; his usual careless, casual attitude, complete with the signature grin that he certainly shares with his blue dad. he was so sure of himself. he felt like a true adult, grown up, young and unafraid, ready to face the world and all of the challenges it would throw at him. he felt he needed no support because he was damien lavey, proud son of the kings of the 8th circle of hell, a force of nature in his own right and a determined – yet stubborn – demon.
his hands now hold his phone, staring at the bright screen, a finger hovering over his affectionate name for his pa ; blue dad. he’s holding his breath. his hands are shaking. the taste of iron is on the tip of his tongue from biting down too hard, his eyes barely focusing on the words on the screen he’s holding with a vice grip.
young, unafraid, reckless. once, he didn’t believe he could ever make a mistake ; after all, did he not learn from the best ? to always be aware of what he tells others, to be aware of who he trusts, especially in hell and among the other demons, some still seeking more revolution ? and that such people would use any means to achieve it ; even attempting to use the only son of the kings as a source of information, a way into their daily routine, an in.
he hadn’t wanted to believe it.
damien remembers how he couldn’t find the words to tell his fathers how he screwed up in that moment. how he barely even managed to call his pa, hardly making a coherent sentence, stumbling his way home and finally reaching both his fathers’ arms.
it’s the same thing, every time, whenever he screws up so royally that he needs to call his pa to mend it ; the shaky hands, bitten tongue, holding of breath. he keeps so casually dismissing his fathers and their concerns like the incident from a few years ago never happened, acting like he can manage just fine on his own, knowing how to deal with it and move on. but with the way the prince struggles time and time again …
damien finally presses the name in his phone, dialling the number and holding the phone up to his left ear, tensing his jaw and trying to control his breathing. he can still feel himself shaking as he reaches to wipe a tear away. please, pa, pick up.
the moment he hears his pa answer the phone, damien damn near breaks on the spot, sharply inhaling and sniffling as quietly as he can, wiping away a rogue tear while swearing under his breath profusely. he takes a moment. and though he can barely get the words out, damien manages, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible so his pa doesn’t worry nearly as much as he did the last time this had happened.
“ hey, pa ? ” he wipes away another tear and almost chokes on nothing. “ i uh, i – i think i fucked up. again. and i – can i stay home … ? ”
Just one call away.
From the day Damien first ventured out on his own, that was their parting message, that no matter the situation, regardless of how bad things seemed or what had happened, they would have his back. They would be there to help, to fix, to pick up pieces and let him regroup; he need only call.. That is what parents are meant to do. They're to be a rock, their child's protectors, someone to count on through thick and thin and everything in between. They told Damien as much, as often as they could, from the very second those words would mean something to him, that no matter the trouble he found, he could always rely on them.
It didn't matter if they were angry about it, or worried out of their collective minds. Both would rather a phone call from him asking for help than a worse one from someone else in his stead.
Just one call...
His phone chimes a familiar ring disrupting talk and chain of thought. It gives him pause however brief, ending with a proclamation of punishment to be dealt by his beloved, and a son he excuses himself. I need to take this, he says, sharing a look with Lucien before he's up and away, slipping to the opposite end of the room to avoid prying ears. Truthfully when he finally answers the phone, he's expecting the usual: a plea for bail, perhaps more money to spend or a warning that a teacher may be contacting him soon in regards to Damien-style shenanigans. Those he could laugh at. Those, he had learned to take in stride.
Those would have been better.
What he hears instead hits like a blow.
"Damien -- ?"
The obvious efforts to mask hardly make a difference. No matter how subtle it may have been, he can sense the change in his son's tone, though this is anything but. The shaky voice on the line cuts deep, delves straight into the natural instinct to defend, protect, comfort, and fix whatever ails his only son. His fingers clench, his expression drops, so drastic a change that it catches his husband's eye from across the room, a piercing gaze barely deterred as Stan's free hand waves him down. That single gesture says, I’ve got this, though the lines on Lucien's furrowed brow speak to the concern they're both undoubtedly feeling.
Were it not for the current proceedings, no doubt Lucien would have been hovering, trying to catch the details for himself or demanding that Stan put it on speaker, but that is a luxury he does not have, thus he's left to deal with things here while Stan handles Damien's situation, whatever it may be.
What's wrong, what happened, are you okay-- questions burning on his tongue that remain unspoken. There are priorities, and details could wait until he sees his son; until he sees with his own eyes that Damien is well enough and he could bring the young demon home,, where he could pour a clearly broken heart out and Stan could help him pick up the pieces. What matters is his baby needs him, wants to come back home.. And with just one call, he would have his wish.
"Listen to me, just stay there, okay? Stay right where you are, I'm coming to get you."
smol proctec SWOL
For Valentines’, I will be drawing some shipping pieces of Monster Prom couples. Feel free to share your favorite ships, even those who are not in the IP. Shipping dynamics, fictional couple stories you love, any one of those! I love to hear it!
14/14 planned! I made it! For those who brought up their favorites and didn’t see them yet, I plan on doing them, but it won’t be for a bit. I am starting a new job in the coming week so Yay! and oohhh… I do have commissions open, so you know… -XO
@brainsorwhatever said: "Hey, Mr. Lavey" Brian appeared carrying a freshly made meat pie. "Um... do you guys like meat pie?"
"Meat pie?”
Oh, he’s eyeing it with a little curiosity -- suspicion? Too soon to tell. Maybe if the offering came from someone other than a friend of Damien’s - the friend who is keeping his husband so busy, as of late, but Stan isn’t holding that again him - there would be no small amount of skepticism. One in his position cannot be too careful, after all. On the bright side, it certainly smells more appetizing than it looks; doesn’t seem like anything he needs to worry about, so...
Sure, he’ll bite!
"Well, it’s combining two of my favorite things, so I’d say yes!”
relieved and thankful to announce that the assassin hired to kill me was finally caught so i no longer have to fear attempts on my life. i do kinda miss the attention though.
@ofarson said: Damien eyes the time on his phone, tapping his foot rapidly, tail swaying slightly as he glances to his fathers while they handled yet another matter that came up in their inner circle. He waits to capture Stan's attention specifically. If he could just get in some questions between their royal duties... Ah! "Hey pa, got a sec? If you could." He pauses, taking a deep breath after a moment. "I uh... Just need some good fatherly advice. On love. If you're too busy, I can ask later--" || unprompted
Idle fingers drum on polished bone, assigning rhythm to the string of nonsense forced upon them by those meant to handle such matters on their own, yet as that is pointed out, it still continues in a truly infinite loop. Truly this is a highlight of their position, is the bitter thought as a cheek rests against the opposite fist, propped on the arm of his seat. He understand their plight. In a way, he does indeed feel for them, though that changes little. It is not his job to coddle, nor is it to grant every desire placed before him. Were it that way, souls would be scrambling to wind up here, a point he has brought up that continues to be ignored. Whether they are trying to make a different argument and failing miserably, or they are simply that dense is to be decided. Regardless, his patience is running thin.
Mid-way through another spiel comes a heavy breath through his nose (oh, and look, they hardly seems to notice his growing annoyance, what a surprise). In that same moment, his attention flicks to the right, finding the exact golden gaze he sought, and his own narrows briefly; a signal as clear as if he’d spoken the words themselves, one immediately mirrored to acknowledge the unspoken request: Get ‘em, babe.
If that didn’t send the message, then surely nothing short of punishment would.
Regardless, setting Lucien on them gives him the time to step back from their dealings, to take a break and enjoy the show - or, perhaps it would have been, had he not found yet another golden gaze turned his way. Ah, now if that wasn’t the best reason yet to excuse himself and be rid of the headache. When Lucien was done, he would find them, no doubt, or the headache in question would; one of the two. In the meantime, there is a moment to push that aside, and give his son a few minutes of attention undivided.
“Damien, I’ve always got time for you, you know that.” And then it hits - his baby boy needs advice on love, huh? Oh ho ho, count him intrigued! “You came to the right place! I happen to be an expert on the subject of love.”
“So, what do you want to know?”
I’m literally running on like, 9 cups of coffee and two hours of sleep, so I really hope this makes sense and I didn’t ramble too badly.
So after a lengthy discussion with Asero, we've basically decided that, of the pair, Lucien is the scary one.
That's not saying that Stan can’t be; of course he can, he's a demon. He's a king of Hell and, to steal one of my favorite lines from my lovely Lucien, he did not come into that position by shaking hands. He can be as cruel and sadistic as any of his kind, but Lucien has a brand of cunning to him that Stan simply does not. Add that to the fact that, while Stan is certainly the more physically imposing of the pair -- standing a few inches taller than Damien's six-feet, which puts him anywhere from six-foot-four to six-six, and built like a brick shithousewith a little extra padding but shhhh-- Lucien is capable of tapping into magic for a variety of creative purposes, so there's that to deal with, as well.
Anyone who may give commentary on Stan's prowess, stature, rule, or anything of the sort would just get this proud, crooked grin while he's like "yeah, and I'm not even the one you have to worry about".
There's also the fact that Stan is the more laid-back and patient of the two. That's...not saying much, but it counts for something. He'll listen and consider things far longer than Lucien will, so all in all, it's likely the 8th's denizens and those sent there for punishment best hope and pray that he's the one they deal with.
BASICALLY folks expecting him to be this terrifying entity (which he ABSOLUTELY can be, don't get me wrong) are just going to get a laugh while he’s all “well yeah thanks, I know, but you should really be afraid of the little red stick person to my right”.
[ This blog now exists bc i love me one (1) blue dad and bc @hellsovereign is a bully Needless to say, I have nothing ready yet, but we’re here! ]
