#hellsking

Eddie: *scoffs*

Eddie: *chuckles*

Eddie: *scoofs*

Blab

Blab: Three secrets they’re keeping.

“Oh, boy!” Brian snapped his neck and back, he’s doesn’t tend to be the type to keep secrets, so whenever he does, it tends to be to avoid embarassment. “Alright, let’s just get this over with.”

“1. I pretend not to care, but sometimes I feel inept and boring in comparison to my friends.”

“2. I’m deeply insecure about my missing cheek, I’ve tried to cover it up many times but it never works out.”

“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."

@hellsking​ inquired:  "You know, even in my position I haven't come across many merfolk. They don't seem to mingle much with those of us on land." In his limited experience at least. They aren't exactly out in droves here, so even a lone one stands out like a sore thumb. "I can only assume that means YOU are the Miranda my Damien talks about, crown princess of the Merkingdom? It's a pleasure to finally put a face to the name."

      In stark contrast, it hardly takes the mention of Damien for Miranda to recognize a hellborn royal when she sees one. Dealings with Hell tend to be rarer than they used to be anymore, and she’s never been personally involved in such things, and even then she mostly just knows Damien’s dads through, well, Damien --- but, oh, how old habits kick in with a force to make gut instinct quiver in fear at such efficiency.

       Before she had noticed him, before he had spoken ( even with the worst of the differences accounted for, merfolk were nowhere near as reliant on vision as their land counterparts, and things could be easily missed if Miranda wasn’t looking for them ), Miranda was... well, just Miranda. The kind of passive, friendly body language that one might’ve suspected not only from what might’ve already been told about Miranda, but just from what was normal for a student at Spooky High. Fins happily switching position, up and down and forward and back, twitching their tips and listening to the world around her. A tail that swished even as she moved along, all heavy bones and dense muscle made to allow her to swim in the oceans she was made to call home. A smile on toying lips that could’ve spoken of mischief or excitement or play all, bright eyes with pupils that widened from slits into large, circular things, a gleam in them whenever something shiny caught the light nearby.

      But oh, with the voice, with the turn of her head to see Hell royalty, to understand abruptly that she was in the presence of another royal --- in an instant, she changed.

      Where there was the warmth of life and simple youth there came a rigidity. Back straightened with sudden shock like she was electrocuted, and fins that had never seemed to stay still now abruptly were. Held back and lifted in a friendly way, a strange pseudo-relaxation that implied confidence, but... was stiff and sudden, straightened like a board. To call every muscle in her equally as stiff wasn’t exactly right, she looked calm and in her element at first glance, but... Unnatural. Puppeteered, almost. Less like she was the one moving into that new body language, looking up at him with thinly slit eyes that betrayed nothing of thoughts that she had no problem showing mere seconds before, and more like she had been moved into position. Something so instant and sudden that even she hadn’t realized it. All the image of a predator at rest, calm and yet dangerous, a royal down to her bones, but watching it happen, watching the abruptness, watching the shift, was... uncanny. 

      The Merkingdom certainly wasn’t keen on sharing too much of what they were, and the existence of Miranda up here, on land, was the biggest outreach they had possibly ever done to show their existence - and in a moment, that alien unknown was all the more prominent. The Merkingdom did not show their hand. They did not walk beyond their own borders without careful consideration, without highest approval. They did not share what it was like, inside their borders, inside their cultures, inside their lives. Not if they could help it.

      And yet Miranda couldn’t help but show exactly how her kingdom’s royals were expected to behave.

      “Indeed, and it is a great pleasure to meet yourself. Do not worry much about only knowing a few of my people - we do like to mind ourselves first and foremost and see to our own. I am sure you can understand the need, and we do enjoy our privacy.” 

      A voice that might’ve laughed before, now came cold. Not the type of coldness that blew with bitter winds, but rather... The stark coldness, coming when there was no heat to be given, no sun to be shared, nothing to hold onto and give into motion. Defined by an absence. Her voice luted with an accent that was half-melody, twisting consonants and vowels into musical notes, but even that remained walked upon strict lines. Her face showing nothing, even when the edges of her lips lifted up in a smile. 

      Somewhere, even Miranda herself realized how those couldn’t be her words, coming from her own mouth, for sure she was saying them, but it wasn’t her. Like watching her own eyes through someone else’s, moving her own body like a ghost in her own home.

                                                 Perfectly trained, as always.

@hellsking​ sent :  Here is the perfect opportunity, a quieter moment without distraction for either of them. Stan is just going to loop an arm over his son's shoulders and drag him in close, trapping Damien's head in the crook of his arm and holding tight, while the other hand takes to forcibly ruffling his hair. It's too rough to be mere paternal affection, yet it's still decidedly careful so not to actually hurt Damien - ah! Of course! It's a challenge! See if you can get out of this one, kiddo!

caught completely off guard, the young demon yelps a little as his blue dad drags him in closer, trapping him in the crook of his arm.  but oh ?  this wouldn’t hurt nearly as much if he was seriously about to give him a stern talking to about something.  and yet, too strong for it to just be a rewarding piece of fatherly affection.

it clicks in damien’s head.  right !  he’s absolutely gonna win this !

...  well, if he had a strategy in mind.  at first, it’s a playful grin and a struggle out of stan’s headlock, only to realise that he absolutely does not have the strength to quite budge his blue dad’s arm enough for him to break out.  his next choice is to at least stop the ruffling of his hair, hoping to get an upper hand somehow if he’s able to keep one arm away from him.  yeah, no, that doesn’t quite work either.  damien’s still gotta figure out a way out.

the prince does at least keep the struggle up as he wracks his mind for a creative method of wrestling his way out of his pa’s grip.  if brute force doesn’t work, and neither does a diversion, then maybe ...

ah !  that’s something he can do !

if there’s one thing he can use against his dads, it’s himself.  the only son, prideful as he is, knows how to play a bit dirty  --  and a bit convincingly at times, if anything.  it’s also possibly the environment he was raised in that contributes to the way damien makes the most convincing wince he can muster, again prying at his pa’s arm.

          “  bit tight, pa --  ”  comes his (not as convincing) lie, giving stan the ultimate kicked puppy look that he can muster in that moment.

Mad?  How in the world could he be mad?

Volatile as his temper may be at times, it takes more than a dumb tease to spark it, so it counts as annoyance at best.  Even if he were truly angry, it would not have lasted, for Stan knows exactly how to calm him, even when the light of his life was the cause of the problem.  All it takes is strong hands holding him, that voice in his ear and attention paid to such a tender place on his body.  Oh, he’s certain Stan knows he has this effect, that all it takes is a brush of lips and nip of teeth to melt him at the core.  That should be the true annoyance, and yet he’s smiling to himself.

His head falls back against Stan’s shoulder, tipped away ever so slightly to leave ample room for attentions to continue, perhaps to advance in a moment once Lucien is done basking in his dear husband’s affections.  A soft hum sounds his appreciation.  He reaches back, resting a hand on Stan’s cheek, fingers twitching as teeth scrape skin yet again - ah, that does it.  Golden eyes finally close, and just like that, he’s forgiving Stan for things that haven’t even happened yet.  Such is the magic his love is capable of working with even so basic a move.

@hellsking

     Sitting outside the cafeteria to eat was actually a fairly common occurrence for Iris as of late. Legs crossed on the ground, a thermos at her side, and a sandwich about as thick as her head held gingerly in her hands. Due to the, ah... Portion sizes that cyclops needed to eat in order to feel satisfied, she had to bring her own lunch to school most days. Which was just as well, she supposed, since high school lunches tended to be pretty gross. 

     The sheer size of her lunch often got her a few stares, but she was fairly used to that. However, even that couldn’t have prepared her for the large, imposing demon now looming over her (and she wasn’t short, so it took a lot to loom over her). One large eye flitted up at him warily, and she swallowed. Calm down, Iris. They can smell fear.

“ Um... I- I.. ” the demon’s question caught her somewhat off guard. She’s been doing this for a while now, but nobody’s ever actually cared enough to ask why. Should she even tell him? 

“ No reason, really. I just-- Y’know. I guess I just like to be alone. ”

     Also, a certain pack of werewolves seemed to be making her their favorite target for ridicule as of late. And she did not need that right now.