#no serious art yet only scribbles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has been providing a Korean-language service since 2013.

#no serious art yet only scribbles

etheralsweetheart · 5 months

Note

About waitress reader how she reacts about serious and cold mans but few minutes later or more they can't stop staring her inlove?(I imagined this with the Lin Kuei trio but is your choice from which boy hehe)

Lin Kuei Brothers crushing on waitress reader

Doing all three😈😈 (A bit of nsfw)

You were a waitress for Madame Bo's tea house. Your pay was decent, but there were many pros that came with working there. You get leftovers for lunch and dinner, unlimited tea and... You get to serve the table where those strong guys sit. The moment the three walk in, you strut to their table, happy to be able to serve them... But you do like one in particular...

One of them really got your eyes... The one that always wore blue. His face was a work of art. But you knew he was out of your league. Such a handsome man like him didn't deserve a waitress.

Little did you know that this man has a small crush on his own. He finds enjoyment in watching you always serving them. Even if it was just a drink, you'll drop everything just to be at their table. It's definitely a kink aspect. Just watching you serve him as if he was a god, makes him wants to bend you over and fuck you. But he can't deny how beautiful you are... You'd make a good trophy wife

He watches as you move to their table. He can feel his heart beat a bit faster when you ask for their order. With no shame this man is undressing you with your eyes

One day, he'll find a way to make you his wife.

Kuai Liang feels a bit nervous when he watches you. He doesn't know why. You've been nothing but kind and polite to him. But he must admit, that you look quite good in that outfit. It really makes your curves stand out.

Suddenly he gets back to reality when you ask for his order. Kuai Liang orders the usual and you scribble it down on your little notepad.

You do talk to them for a bit before Madame Bo calls you back to work, but other than that he doesn't talk much with you. Yet you manage to give him these feelings.

You are a great waitress, but sometimes he wonders how it will be like to meet you in a different setting.

By the elder gods, he sometimes wants to just take you away somewhere in the mountains, where you can be his cute wife. Why serve and cook for strangers, when you can do the same for him.

What must he do to win your heart?

Tomas really likes talking with you. You are fun to hang around with. Sadly those meetings can only happen when he's going out to eat. He knows the Lin Kuei rules, but sometimes he just wants to ignore them and spend his day with you.

You make him forget about how hard life is (Your ass makes him forget about his dead parents lol).

He wouldn't mind spending his life with such a person. Not only someone full of life, but also such a beauty. You just might be the prettiest thing he's seen.

He could sit there for hours and admire the way you move around the restaurant.

***

You feel surprised seeing your crush staring at you with so much love and admiration. You must admit, that it made you feel good getting attention from such a beautiful man. Maybe you have a chance with them...

617 notes · View notes

faeriekit · 6 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (XVI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here and this is sixteen *SixTeen theme plays*

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Martian Manhunter finds out that,yeah, dude, when your brain is missing chunks, you can't write or access data without the hardware to store it. My dude remembers nothing.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Days pass. Nights pass.

(He thinks.)

He gets a new room. This one has a window. He can’t stare at it all the time, but when he does, he can feel himself growing stronger. Steadier. The change in his body is borderline tangible.

If only it was physical. He’s still too weak to lift anything but his arms, and not even all the way. Moving his head is tiring. Lifting his head is impossible.

But he tries.

A lot.

The doctors and the lady have to make upset noises with him when he does, but he wants to be able to see everything they’re doing to him. So far it’s a lot of tubes and needles, but what if they become scalpels and clamps?

…Danny tries to assure himself that they probably won’t be.

But they might. Things could change.

And that eats at him constantly.

Someone puts a big circle on the wall in his room. It’s large. It’s a little fuzzy at its distance on the far wall, but it’s got little arms on it, and little dots in equal degrees around the circumference. It takes him almost two napping periods to realize that it’s a clock.

Danny squints. He can...almost read analog. (Probably.) It sure doesn’t help that he has no idea when night is and when day is, though. He sleeps at one hour and wakes up at another, and the room will look entirely the same. Was it a few hours’ sleep, or a day’s? Was it longer? The world spins outside his window, big and blue, and he spins against it in a station on a lonely moon. There’s no way to tell.

Someone eventually notices that he’s bored, though, because he gets a television and a remote.

It’s a super thin television. At first, Danny spends time wondering why they put a screen with no system in his room, and then hour later the lady starts pressing buttons on the remote, and the screen lights up with a news program.

…The TV is too far away to see all that clearly. He can see some of it when he squints, but then all the colors turn lime green.

The banner on the bottom of the screen scrolls with headlines, and cool, it looks like they invented new letters while Danny was asleep. Fantastic. His head hurts from trying to squint to read, but it kind of looks like a kindergartener scribbled all over an otherwise serious news report.

Great. Now he’s getting a headache.

But the noise is…nice. It’s distracting. The news anchors chatter seriously as Danny gets yet another IV swapped out in his arm, and the heavily geared-up doctors have started telling Danny things he doesn’t like to listen to too much because if it is threats, great, he should ignore that; if it’s not threats, then, well, Danny’s bored of it all anyway.

“—Wel?”

Danny blinks. Well. That sounds like ‘Well’.

He shifts just enough to make eye contact. A doctor looks down at him from their place at his bedside. Their scrubs are kind of blue-green, with little flowers on the trim.

They have human eyes. The sight of soft, brown eyes probably ought to be reassuring, but they just make Danny more nervous.

“Eow eart wel?” They ask again, soft and slow. That middle bit sounds kind of like ‘art’. Ha. Old timey Shakespeare. ‘Art well,’ like ‘you art well—‘

Wait. Danny takes a deep breath. Blinks. His chest arcs up, just a little—just enough for the doctor to realize that Danny’s more than just looking, he’s paying attention. Are they asking him if he’s well?

Danny reflexively opens his mouth and flexes his throat, tries to answer—

Nope. Ow. The noise he makes sounds like the garbage disposal is backed up with angry blob ghosts. It hurts just to make. But the sound makes the doctor look at him; they see him.

“Inne cwic tima!” Danny hears, and then they’re jogging out of the room, and Danny is left alone. His throat hurts.

His head thumps back onto his pillow. The news program plays on. There’s a damaged city he’s never seen before on the news.

…And then the doctor comes back. Danny’s head is swimming, so he almost doesn’t notice their return, but they’re holding something, and that something has a sippy straw.

Danny is perfectly happy with a sippy straw.

The straw is put into his mouth. Danny goes sippy sippy.

…The water sloshes a little weirdly through his throat. Some of his tubes might not be where they ought to be, which is weird. Isn’t he supposed to be human right now? Or. Uh. Kind of human? Human equivalent? …Close enough…?

Danny drinks. When the pain in his throat goes to normal pain levels instead of new and angry pain levels, he lets go of the straw, and the doctor lets him.

Their fingers carefully brush Danny’s hair. Not very hard. A little too slowly. Just at the hairline. But it reminds Danny so much of sitting at home with Dad on the couch, home from school with a fever as Muppets tapes play in the background, that tears leak out of his busted eyes. The tears are probably just as green.

“Eow eart wel?” the doctor asks again. So gently. So careful.

“I’m tired,” Danny rasps.

The effort of speaking crashes into him in seconds. If things are happening around him, he doesn’t understand any of it. Nothing reaches him. He’s so tired.

He’s out before he knows it.

#Martian Manhunter: he's bored. Give the boy a television #Medical: :0 Sir yes sir!!#Medical when they hear Danny: HE SPEAKS!!! :D #Medical when they realize they can't understand him: OH NO!!! D: MM COME BACK PLEASE #health and hybrids #dp x dc #danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover #Danny realizing he didn't know how to read analog even when he was well: shit. >:(

206 notes · View notes

heilith · 5 months

Text

Never Die

The art and prompt by the very cool Oak_Hawthorn, for the Scribbles and Drabbles 2023

There is a cloaked figure sneaking around in the Elvenking's Halls. They make an effort to remain unseen, but they seem set on a path to the King's treasury. Is it a Man, an Elf, or someone else entirely? What is their purpose here? Are their intentions good or ill?

Enjoy. I myself refuse to read it yet again, so all that might be wrong with it will be corrected later. I hope there are no such things. :) But deep inside I know there are.

@fall-for-tolkien

Never Die.

“A dragon.”

He missed the moment of the intrusion entirely. He harboured no slightest suspicion his Kingdom was a little less than inaccessible. But it was. Not enough for a serious expression of alarm, as he first believed, but quite worthy of some degree of annoyance.

Giving it a better afterthought now, he couldn’t but admit his vanity had served him a bad turn. The centuries he’d spent keeping the enemy out of the borders of his domain distorted his perception of what he was capable of. Threats turned into challenges, stability – into boredom.

It was only a matter a time until he was outplayed.

“A dragon,” repeated he, still utterly unbelieving. The truth appeared to be so ridiculous he couldn’t build a strategy around it – something that hadn’t happen to him for millennia.

The golden lizard gurgled happily, sucking and gnawing on one his prized silver sceptres.

“You didn’t need that one, Thranduil,” you scratched the creatures head most casually, which only added to the absurdity of the picture, “Eru knows how much time it took him to dig it out of this pile.”

He felt like laughing. Not because he found your wit deserving of a laugh. Though yes, he did. He wasn’t fooling you and he couldn’t fool himself.

And yet the brainlessness he was witnessing before his very own eyes was beyond any humour.

The little spiky ball of happiness was reeking of evil for miles.

He first sensed it, making his way to the pool chambers. A viscous clot of a stranger aura. He walked into it headfirst and was plunged into the strongest vision he’d ever had a non-pleasure of enduring. A figure in a dark tattered cloak, someone from the outside, someone…

“I should have thought of it.”

Another lie he was forced to utter while searching for the ways to bring together the scraps of his dignity.

“You couldn’t have thought,” you interrupted him with a bold smile. He almost forgot how sweet you could be when you smiled, even if you meant no good, “Who could have dared?”

You could.

Now he could tell exactly why the three times cursed first vision had failed to trouble him enough. Your print on the plane of visions was familiar to him. You radiated the teasing vibes of an old…friend.

The knowing he was still considering you such was bitter.

Another phantom caught up with him a step away from the throne room. The cloak was wrapped around his shoulders this time. A burden in his hands was heavy. He pulled it closer to his chest to keep his balance…In a flash a surge of malicious energy coursed through him. The world blinked. There was no cloak. There was no burden. But the evil was still there.

“What do you want?” the composure was returning to him slowly. He had to stop behaving like he’d become a King two days ago.

“Why, to feed the child…”

The sceptre seemingly forgotten, the dragon spread a pair of ugly webbed wings and toddled to the nearest open chest. His claws were clanking against the floor like fine daggers.

“He cannot fly. Not yet,” you murmured with such tenderness in your voice he took it as a personal offense.

“We barely have food to feed ourselves,” he snapped, “And even if we did, what made you think I’d share it with…this.”

“Would you share it with me?”

“Before or after you had joined the ones who were slitting our throats open?”

He sent a mental order to the guards. He should have kept them by the treasury at all times, but who would ever have dared…

You would.

The traps were now everywhere. The shreds of the evil presence were slowly drifting in the corridors, giving him painful jolts each time he was unable to avoid them. The cloaked trespasser was invading his dreams. And no one could not only stop, but even see them.

He was helpless and brimming with ire.

“I don’t need food, Thranduil. He doesn’t need it. He feeds on owning things. He’s a dragon.”

The guards had stormed in before he had warned them not to touch you. You were someone he craved for getting even with on his own.

You snapped your fingers with the same come-hither smile. The creature raised its head and stared at the soldiers with three limpid eyes, not a single thought in any of them.

The guards stopped short. Desperate, he was watching them turn away and march out of the treasury, as if a silent voice was shouting commands into their backs.

He didn’t protest, when your hand ran against his shoulder soothingly. He was at a loss.

“And that is how we passed by your watchposts. And your guards. And you – just once,” you spoke in a soft voice, as your fingers kept drawing small curving lines along his arms and up to his neck.

“Why did you leave with them?” asked he hoarsely, “For this?”

“They promised they would spare your son, Thranduil. I couldn’t trust you to protect him.”

“Are you still with them?”

You leaned your forehead into his chest. His arm defied his will, slipping around you like it had done so many times before.

“No,” you whispered, “But I will not return. Don’t worry, we won’t stay here for long.”

“And if I beg?”

You laughed again and lifted your hand again.

A dry sound rolled across the treasury.

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #scribbles and drabbles 2023 #drabbles #angsty

91 notes · View notes

polandspringz · 1 month

Text

Chapter Summary:

The holidays are here, and MC has been promoted from managing multiple departments to multiple dates.

Story Summary: Set in a modern society, where there are no demons or angels, the Celestial and Devildom Corporations have held a longstanding rivalry as the two most wealthy and influential brands in this city. After years of competition, they surprised the public with news of a partnership. Their first joint effort: Sponsoring one special intern each who will work to unite the businesses using their outsider perspective and communication skills that the old CEOs, and their heirs, seem to fail at. You, MC, thought you were selected as one of them. Apparently someone misread the skill section of your resume though, and hired you as a family therapist and mystery detective too.

Chapter will be posted below, but please click the link to comment on AO3 and leave kudos!

Exams were over.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you finished checking over your Scantron for the five hundredth time, being sure-sure that you didn’t accidentally skip a question and fill in all the bubbles one off, and that your name was an actual word and not just the scribbles your sleep deprived and study-crammed brain believed it was. You quickly got up, handed your paper in, and as quietly as possible, scurried back to your seat where you grabbed all your belongings and escaped the classroom, unfortunately failing as you banged your shin on the doorframe in your haste.

Satan was waiting for you outside, sitting on a raised platform for a display in the art building. A book held open with a single hand, his thumb pressing against the inside of the spine and keeping it crisply open, he smiled and looked up when your shadow approached and cast over him.

“All done?”

“All done!” You stretched your arms in the air high and cheered. He chuckled at your childish moment and closed the book, tucking it away and standing up himself, pushing off his long and lanky legs until he was at his full height in front of you.

“Congratulations are in order then.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t know my grade yet.”

“MC.” He leveled you with a serious stare, incredulous at your statement, “You have almost a 4.0 GPA. You were spouting facts at me for the past two days, there’s no way you didn’t vomit all of that out perfectly onto your test.”

“Ugh, even if it's someone like you saying it, the word vomit still sounds gross. Don’t use it,” you said, slinging your backpack onto your back and making a disgusted face.

“Would you prefer retch? What about regurgitate?”

“I feel like regurgitate is the more appropriate one in this scenario, oh-mister-literature-major.”

“I’ll use whatever phrase gets you to walk faster. Come on, let’s get you home and to sleep already. I don’t want to have to carry you.”

“But my brain is soooo tired,” you whined dramatically, and he pushed you forward as you dug your heels into the ground.

“But not your legs. Besides, carrying you is Mammon’s job, not mine.”

You flushed, and rocked back onto the balls of your feet, hurrying out of the art building doors. Satan could be heard laughing softly behind you.

Although the holiday break for the D.C. didn’t start until the 29th, Diavolo had been kind and merciful to the college students among his employees and gifted Satan and you an early day off from the company. Although-although, from Lucifer’s perspective, only you had an official day off from work. Satan was just off from school, as he was still unaware of his more permanent position in the company at the moment. While he knew that his brother skulked around the company’s publishing department without authorization, and that Satan had adopted a uniform similar to what the rest of the department heads wore, he was still oblivious to the conspiracy that Diavolo and Satan had been enacting. You tried not to dwell on it for too long, for fear that you would vomit the words out with anxiety.

Nonetheless, the two of you had the day off. So, while the rest of the brothers were suffering at their desk jobs so close to a holiday, you and Satan were spending the day sprawled across various surfaces, going from passed out in your beds to half asleep at the dining room table in your bowls of cereal, draped across arm chairs, to finally in a heap on the couch as a book lay discarded on the floor, slipped from the blonde’s fingers, and the television remote upside down and the batteries exposed as the drop popped the cover off the back.

You were fast asleep until your phone began to buzz, pinned somewhere on the couch between your pile of limbs and the cushions, and you both began to grumble and squirm in an attempt to find it. Satan ended up kicking you off in his annoyance, dropping you onto the floor directly onto your ass, but your phone slipped out and into your hands, so it all worked out in the end. You glanced at the caller I.D.

Levi.

Wait a minute. Levi was calling you?

Not texting?

Your sleep-addled brain jolted itself awake and you hurried to accept the call.

There was a moment of silence on both ends. You had expected him to say something first.

“H-hello?”

“...MC.”

“Yes, Levi? It’s me? Why are you calling? Are you okay?”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m okay. Why are you acting like you were worried about me or something?”

The defensiveness in Levi’s voice was harsh, but not unfamiliar. You knew he was hiding something.

“Levi,” you said calmly, “You know I won’t judge you or anything. It’s just that I know you hate phone calls, so I was surprised when you didn’t just text me instead.”

“It’s because… It’s because it’s important.”

You hummed in agreement, and crossed your legs, “I figured. What’s up?” You said sweetly, trying to coax him with patience.

“A-are you free tonight?”

“I am. Why?”

“B-because the- becausethemoviecomesouttonightandyoupromisedyouwould-”

“Wait, Levi, what? The movie?”

“See? I knew it was stupid. You stupid normie. Forgetting about the promise you made me and-”

The promise? Oh. You sat up, “The Ruri-chan movie, right? I didn’t forget, Levi. I just woke up a minute ago, my brain is still a little slow. Of course I’ll go with you. Can we still get tickets though?”

“...I bought them already. I bought them when they went on sale months ago.”

“Months ago, huh? You’re really excited about this, huh? Guess I better dress up then.” You rubbed your eyes sleepily, thoughts slowly coming together in your brain, “Wait a second, months ago?” Your brain pieced together images of your calendar, and Levi had only brought the movie up to you a few weeks ago. Did that mean then-?

“It’s not what you think!” He squawked on the other end, “I just- I just accidentally bought an extra ticket, and then I needed to find someone else to go with. No- wait! I meant that I didn’t want to sit next to anyone weird so I bought the seats around me so that I would be left alone!”

“Does that mean you don’t want me sitting next to you?”

“No! That’s not- You’re-! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The movie’s at midnight so just be ready by ten o’clock! You better not fall asleep during the movie or I’ll never forgive you!”

“Aye, aye, captain Levi,” you saluted, “I’ll go back to my bed so I’ll be all rested up for later.”

“I’ll be home soon, so I’ll make sure to wake you up in time!”

“Thank you, Levi. Bye bye,” you shut your eyes as you waved at the wall across from you, slowly pulling the phone away as you pressed down on the power button, ending the call. Satan shuffled around behind you, sitting up. You looked back at him, seeing how his blonde bangs were sticking up in all different directions from being face down on the couch.

“You’re going out tonight?”

“Yeah, I had made a deal with Levi a few weeks ago. But I don’t mind. I just have to lose this headache.”

“Post finals exhaustion does that to you. To us, I guess. Come back to bed?”

“Don’t phrase it like that around Mammon, unless you want to get your head ripped off. And you were the one who kicked me off the couch.”

“Your phone was annoying me. Come on.”

It was rare for Satan to whine, but you guessed sleepiness did that to any of the brothers. You accepted his hand and crawled back onto the cushions, flopping down again. Satan remained sitting, reaching over and rattling with something before he held that something out in front of your lips.

“Tylenol. Open.”

You obliged and he leaned over to fetch one of your water bottles off the coffee table.

“Levi, you look fine! Come on, let’s go already-!”

You were tugging on his arm, careful not to pull on any of the ribbon tails and ruffles that were fluttering about between the game of tug of war.

“No! I can’t! Let me get changed first! It’s stupid! I look stupid! I know I do!”

“We’re going to be late-! Come on!”

You yanked with all your strength and stumbled backwards through the doorway into the hall, sending Levi tumbling with you, revealing his state to the rest of the household who had been watching your struggle curiously.

While you had opted for something comfortable for going to the movies, Levi had decided to go all out. Well, he wasn’t Levi right now, he was a perfect recreation of Ruri-chan, wig, contacts, and all. And while he looked stunning and made your jaw drop, he unfortunately mistook your reaction and began crying and slamming the door in your face.

But you had gotten him out of his room. So step one was done.

He was sitting in a heap of his skirt and petticoat, on the verge of tears now feeling all the eyes of his brothers on him, but you didn’t have time to dwell on that. You grabbed him by the wrist again and pulled him to his feet, marching down the hall to the front door.

“Do you have the tickets?”

“H-Huh? Yes, they’re on my phone-”

“Is your phone charged?”

“I have a portable battery with me!”

“And?”

“And a wire!” He said between sniffles.

You got to the entranceway, and stuffed your feet into your shoes without letting go of Levi, still worried he would bolt the moment you did, but he seemed too occupied sniffling and trying not to rub his makeup off his face as he stood there waiting for you. When you stood back up, you took a good look at him, and sighed.

“Wait right here. Don’t run back in your room, you hear me?”

You didn’t wait for his response. You went back to his bedroom and glanced around until you spotted it, grabbing the bag off of his dresser. You marched back past the stares until you reached the sniffles again, and squatted down so you could place the pouch on your legs as you fished around in it.

“What are you-?”

“Shush. I’m fixing your makeup.”

You found the foundation he had been using and dabbed it on top of the eyeliner and mascara that was starting to blur underneath his eyes, and then found the brush he had been using and added a new swirl of pink on his lower lash line. You inspected his face for another minute, trying to see if anything else needed tweaking.

The makeup bag was heavy in your hands, and a distant part of your mind thought about if only Asmo was here, maybe Levi would be more confident.

But there was no time for that. And besides, Levi seemed pretty adept at makeup himself, based on what he had done before you walked in, and all the products in the bag seemed to be his own as well. If you didn’t think that before, well, the obvious Ruri-chan collaboration branding on all the products solidified it.

“Alright. We’re going out! We’ll be back late! Don’t wait up!” You called to the others, mainly to Lucifer, as you took Levi’s hand and opened the front door. You saw the eldest lift his hand in brisque acknowledgment, but you didn’t miss the smile that was pulling at his lips from just over the newspaper.

You and Levi walked through the snowfall, hurrying across town to the theater where the premiere would be happening. Levi was still panicking, begging for you to take a cab because of all the normies staring at the two of you, but traffic was terrible right now and-

You turned to him with your hands on your hips, clicking your tongue as you looked him up and down.

“Do you really want to wrinkle your dress before we get there?”

“H-huh?”

“If we go in a car your cosplay is going to be ruined! R-u-i-n-e-d. You hear me? You worked so hard on this, we want it to look perfect when we get to the theater in case people want to take pictures or something, don’t we? Now come on.”

You grabbed Levi’s hand again, but when you moved forward, he stalled, jolting you to a stop. He was standing there with his mouth agape slightly.

“What?”

“It’s just… You…” His mouth floundered over the words as he seemed caught in a daze looking at you, until…

“Asmo’s really rubbed off on you, huh?”

You swore you had been knocked off your feet.

You blamed it on the lighting. The damn snowfall, the warm glow of the streetlight, the atmosphere was all too alike some drama or something you had seen on tv. Levi’s smile was radiant, bigger than it had been in a while, his eyes shut and crinkled at the edges as he held the Ruri-chan wand clasped between his hands, and he just kept smiling. Damn, you were faithful to Mammon, but this feeling was different, was so overpowering, so kind and warm-

You smiled back, and slowly reached your hand out to retwine your fingers with his.

“He’s really done a number on me, hasn’t he? Now, come on. I want to show you off already.”

“Show me off?”

“Yes you big goof. You made the entire costume didn’t you? We have to show them who the ultimate fan is.”

Around three in the morning, the front door creaked open, sending a crack of light cutting across the apartment, and two figures slinked inside the darkness, their shadows swaying in the light across the floor. One of them guided the other towards the couch, where they collapsed in a heap while the other moved to the kitchen. The door was shut now, bathing them both in darkness, but even if their roles were reversed, they both knew the layout of their home by heart.

Leviathan brought two cups of hot chocolate back to the couch, stopping and glancing over the cups as he regarded you. Curled across the cushions again, your fingers were still holding onto some polaroid print outs you had been developing while waiting for him. Levi set the cups down and then picked one of them from your hand, smiling down at the selfie the two of you had taken before the premiere, blurry as you were running to get in line, but both of you still threw up peace signs, although only your eyes and up were visible in the shot, Levi more in frame as he was running somewhat behind.

He carefully removed the wig, sliding his fingers under the sides by his ears, finding which way the bobby pins were in and pushing the wig down and then up, carefully unclipping the pigtails and setting them aside (they would be a nightmare to untangle but he would worry about that later) before he knelt down in front of you. Your eyes were shut, and your chest rose and fell gently with each breath. He took the other polaroid from your hand and smiled at it before setting them both down on the coffee table. Then, he took your hand in his and whispered.

“Thank you.”

The next morning was back to work. And you were kind of regretting going on so late with Levi, as your headache from yesterday was back with an even stronger vengeance. Levi was no doubt accustomed to all these late nights, but you only had the endurance of a college student. The only blessing you had was that since it was the 24th, the Celestial Corporation was on their holiday, which meant you didn’t have to film anything today. Instead, you and Levi were in charge of managing the editing team as you began to work on piecing together the early episodes of the web series.

It should have been a simple day, it should have been easy on your eyes and your pulsing skull. Lowlights in one of the computer labs as you just let the editors do their thing, Asmo taking pity on you and deciding not to bother you while he went back to preparing for his collection. However, Mammon was either as oblivious as his brothers teased him to be or he just did not care, because it was the fifth time in the past hour he had snuck away from his desk to try and-

“Mammon! What are you doing here?” Lucifer had taken to guarding your door, waiting for the second eldest to slink back here.

“L-Luce! Come on, not you too!”

“MC is busy with a very important project for Lord Diavolo, as you should know. And shouldn’t you also be finishing up your end of year reports if you don’t want to ring in the new year locked in the building.”

“Come on, Luce! Please, just hear me out-”

As if sensing your pounding headache, Lucifer stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

Mammon and Lucifer must have talked, because towards the end of the day, Lucifer showed up in your doorway looking… fidgety?

“Is something the matter?”

He cleared his throat, and hid his expression behind his hand, “I would like to apologize for Mammon’s behavior earlier today.”

“It’s okay. Did he finish his reports?”

“Ahem. He will, however I have allowed him to leave early today.”

“Oh. That’s a surprise.”

“Yes, well. He will accompany you home. You are dismissed.”

And Lucifer staggered out of the office then. Something was up. He was like a robot. Or maybe the relief of the upcoming holidays had finally kick-started his body into shutdown mode, knowing he could relax for even a day. Just as your door closed, two things happened then. A text on your phone, and the door swinging open again.

“Uh, hey, MC.”

It was Mammon.

“Hi?” You crossed your arms and stood up, leaning against the front desk of the computer lab, “What’s been with you all day?”

“Uh… Nothing. Do you still have a headache?”

Hm. Well, points for noticing that. “It’s mostly gone now. I probably just need some more sleep.”

“Ah. I see. Then… ah, nevermind. You probably want to sleep, you just said so yourself. Come on, let’s go home-”

“Mammon, wait,” you stepped forward and grabbed his arm before he could rush out the door, “You’ve been acting weird all day. You don’t get to blow me off like that. Something is up. Tell me.”

“Argh. I wanted to do it smoother than this.”

“Well, you can’t. So just tell me.”

You let go of him, and he pivoted back to face you. He was standing stiff, arms at his side, and looking down at his feet. He seemed nervous, his mouth fighting itself to settle on an expression.

“It’s just… you know what today is, right?”

“Christmas Eve?”

“Yeah, and… do you know what that means?”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas?”

“Yes- but- well- argh!”

“Mammon. Just tell me.”

The man was silent, and you watched color bloom across his face, his skin darkening with warmth as he fought off his embarrassment.

“Well, in this city… they consider Christmas a l-lover’s day, is all… and I was thinking-”

Oh. You weren’t expecting that.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to go out tonight. You’ve been really busy, and then you weren’t feeling well so I was thinking even doing something small together would be fine. But-”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek, shutting him up.

“That’s sweet of you to think of me. Thank you.”

“Uh. You’re welc-”

“But, Asmo texted me. He wants me to stop by tonight.”

Mammon’s face fell.

“Argh! That idiot! It’s bad enough that he has you in his department, now he wants to take all your free time too?”

“Mammon, it’s fine. I’ll just stop by. You can come with me. And besides, does lover’s day only have to be on Christmas Eve? Can’t we do something tomorrow too?”

“But, Lucifer only gave me-”

“It’s fine,” The door opened again, and Lucifer re-entered, “Mammon, just finish your reports when you finish them. I won’t keep you tonight or tomorrow, or on New Year’s for that matter.”

“What? Really?!”

You noticed Lucifer’s posture was different. If he was listening outside the whole time, then he heard you mention Asmo. He had a far off look in his eyes, and he pursed his lips as he mulled over what to say next.

“Do you… not want me to stop by tonight?”

“Wha- no, no. That’s not it. I-” He sighed and covered his face with his hand. Uncharacteristically lax for him, especially while still at the office. Mammon relaxed too, moving closer to his brother with worry on his face, “I apologize. I don’t intend to put you on the spot, but if you are going over there anyway, could I ask you to deliver something to him?”

“Sure? What is it?”

Lucifer reached inside his coat pocket and, with shaking hands you noticed, produced an envelope. A card of sorts.

“A gift. For Christmas. Since I don’t expect him to be home to receive it, and it would be wrong to give him something this personal during work hours.”

“Personal? So it’s not the bonus checks?”

Lucifer frowned at Mammon, “No. And even though I am giving you a pass for the holidays, it is still being discussed whether your performance this year warrants a bonus at all.”

“Hey!”

“I’ll deliver it,” You reached out to take the envelope from his hand, “I’m sure Asmo will be happy.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer had the smallest smile on his face. It was weak, but not marred by his normal serious facade. It was genuine, but it was all he could muster. Even Mammon had gone silent, and seemed to be thinking something over. You turned to him to try and cheer him up.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you too. We’ll just stop by, and I’m sure there will be time for us to do something afterwards. Okay?”

“Okay,” he grumbled, returning to his usual self, “But hurry up. Get your coat, let’s get going already.”

The walk to Solomon’s apartment was rather quiet. Mammon didn’t know the way, so he followed you the whole time. The wind was brisk, but it wasn’t enough to buffet you back. Still, you pulled your coat around you tighter, and only smiled when Mammon stopped to wrap his scarf around your neck.

You took the elevator to the familiar apartment. You texted Asmo that you would be up in a minute, and so when you got to the door, you only knocked once before it was pulled open, revealing Solomon’s smiling face.

“MC! Thank you so much for coming!”

“It’s nothing. I feel bad that I didn’t give Asmo enough attention today. I had a headache, so-”

As you stepped through the threshold, you saw Solomon’s eyes drift behind you, noticing Mammon’s presence.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that Mammon was accompanying me. Is it okay if he comes in?”

“Of course,” Solomon said, smile never faltering. He stepped aside and gestured for you both to step inside, “I’m sure Asmo will be delighted to see one of his brothers.”

“We won’t be long, I promise. What did Asmo want me to come over for anyway?”

“He wanted to give you a gift. We do have some snacks set out though if you want.”

“Are you having a party?”

“Nah, just for us,” Solomon popped a cube of cheese in his mouth, “Although we’ll probably vlog and use it for some content of sorts. Here, sit down. Let me go get Asmo.”

Solomon left the room, leaving you and Mammon on the couch with the charcuterie board. Mammon was still silent, but he was leaning with his arms over the back of the couch, his head rolling as he sized up the place. You searched for the envelope in your bag, finding it just as Asmo’s singsong voice sounded.

“Darling~! Oh thank you for stopping by! I know it’s out of your way, but I simply had to-”

He had run into the room and immediately rushed you in a hug before you could fully stand up. You barely saw his outfit, only a flurry of fabrics of purple and pink and fuzzy textures in your vision before his arms wrapped around you. When he pulled back, you saw his face decorated in makeup, including little stars and glitter over his blush. His golden eyes were accentuated by the shimmering eyeshadow he had on, and you watched those golden eyes go from happiness to confusion when they spotted the person behind you.

Asmo pulled away, his arms falling to his sides as he went silent. Mammon stood up and just stared at his brother, and you felt their gazes boring into you, so you looked to Solomon for support. He was standing back, watching with an unreadable expression. You fumbled with the envelope.

“Oh, sorry. Mammon was walking me home. We won’t stay too long. Why did you want me to come over?’

That seemed to snap him out of it, at least enough to slip his mask on, “Oh, yes! I have a gift for you!” He turned to Solomon and took several shopping bags from his lover’s arm, moving to hand them off to you, “Here!”

You nearly dropped the bags as their string handles slipped into your hands, “You said a gift! This is plural!”

Asmo laughed, “Well I just couldn’t decide! Consider it your new wardrobe for spring! But not for the fashion show. I’ll custom make your outfit for that!”

“Will you have time for that? You really don’t have to-”

“MC.”

Mammon took the bags from you, but he kept his gaze leveled on his brother, “The card.”

“O-oh. That’s right,” You fumbled again with the item in your hands, flipping it over twice before handing it to Asmo, “Uh, this isn’t from me. I’m sorry, I didn’t think to get you a gift, but I’ll make time to hang out with you or buy you something you want in the future or-”

“Honey, you making the show for me was already my gift. Don’t worry about it.”

Asmo turned the envelope over in his hands as well, looking over his name written elegantly in cursive on the front, and the wax seal on the back. He traced his fingers over the indent on the wax, his eyes half lidded as he recognized it.

“This is from Lucifer, isn’t it?”

“Yes. He asked me to deliver it.”

“What, is it my bonus?” He laughed, but it was airy. Fake, “He could’ve just dropped this on my desk. No need to rope you into it-”

Asmo lifted his arm, tilting the envelope carelessly as he held it loosely between his two fingers. He could be throwing it, or motioning to toss it aside in a moment’s notice without even opening it. You didn’t like the look in his eyes, so distant, the way his smile was too wide, his lips twitching to control his expression into one of indifference, of false amusement, of-

“Asmo,” Mammon pushed past you, dropping the bags on the ground, and stepped right in front of his brother. He raised his arm and rested his fist on his brother’s chest, making the other lean back in surprise.

“W-What do you want?”

“Lucifer took the time to write that. Read it. I mean really read it. I don’t know what's inside but-” Mammon looked away, biting his tongue for a moment, “Look, if Lucifer decided to still be a dick then I get it, but I don’t think he wrote another tirade or scolding in there. It might seem like that at first, but you know him- I know him- better than anyone. I know you can read between the lines to figure out what he means, if he decides to still be a pompous bitch about expressing it.”

“What’s this all about?” Asmo rolled his eyes, and Mammon opened his palm against his chest, sinking his fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

“Come home, Asmo. Please.”

Asmo was silent.

“Not just for us. I mean, I want you home. And so does Levi, and Satan, and the twins. It’s not the same without you. We all miss you. But, for yourself too. Staying away, running away, it’s hurting you too, I know it is.”

Asmo pushed Mammon off of him.

“I’m not running away. I came here because I’m done running away-”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

“Mammon.” You warned, but he continued.

“No, MC! He needs to hear this! I get the whole ‘not hiding anymore’ thing, Az, I do. But listen, you’re still running. You’re running on fumes and leaving messes in your wake. Getting outsiders caught up in this,” He jerked his head towards you, and you flinched when Asmo’s gaze met yours, melting with realization and hurt, “running everyone ragged because they don’t fully understand. They can’t fully understand! They’ll never fully know what we went through.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? When the people who went through it don’t even want to talk about it with-”

Mammon grabbed the envelope and waved it in front of his face, “This. This is them trying to talk about it. Just like how for you it's making videos and posting on Devilgram. And for me? This is me talking about it. You may not like it, but if you want to talk about this, you’ll have to accept that we all are processing differently, taking steps differently. And we can’t take a step forward together if you keep running on ahead, okay?”

Asmo was silent. Solomon was still in the background, but when Asmo turned to him nervously, looking for reassurance, he was shocked to see the small smile on his lover’s face.

“Not you too-”

“I think it’s worth considering,” Solomon shrugged, “It would be a shame to throw away the letter without giving it a cursory glance, at least.”

Mammon drew Asmo’s attention back to him, handing him back the letter. Then he surged forward, wrapping him in a hug.

You saw Mammon’s arms come up and brush Asmo’s hair, pulling his brother in closer as he mumbled-

“This is a family problem, right? So it's up to the family to solve it, got it?”

Asmo didn’t respond. Mammon pulled away after a second and then turned around, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his arm before moving to grab the bags on the floor.

“Come on, MC. Let’s go.”

“Oh. Okay. Uh, thank you for the gifts, Asmo. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

The two of you moved towards the door, tripping over yourselves, when-

“Wait.”

You turned around and watched as Asmo slowly opened the envelope, unfolding the card and tucking the envelope behind it as he began to read it over. It took a minute, and you were terrified of the letters on the page until-

“Solomon. Pack up the charcuterie. Get your coat.”

Mammon gasped next to you, and you saw his eyes glossy and wet as he stared in disbelief at his brother. Asmo didn’t raise his gaze, but he smiled down at the card.

"I can't wait to see the look on their faces."

You and Mammon opened the door to the penthouse and called for the others. It took some shouting, and Mammon running down the hall to bang on all the doors, and a few of them came grumbling, but it was worth it to see their faces when you stepped back to reveal-

Beel was the first to move, tackling Asmodeus before dissolving into blubbering tears. He slammed into his brother with such force that Asmo’s feet slipped off the floor but it was Beel’s strong arms that kept him steady and upright.

You saw Asmo’s face as he slowly reached a hand up and patted the muscular arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, big guy. I won’t do it again.”

Levi dropped his game system on the floor, nearly shattering, but he ignored it and rushed in to join the hug, also crying. Belphegor was next, and he shuffled his feet quickly to meet everyone at the threshold. You wouldn’t have expected tears from him, but he was smiling, and he showed his younger sibling-ness by being equally clingy and tugging on Asmo’s sleeve to get his attention.

Then came Satan, who moved close, but waited for the others to stop swarming Asmo before greeting him. Although he didn’t initiate, Asmo did, and glomped his brother, nearly knocking him backwards.

“Oh how I’ve missed you! Look at you!” He smushed Satan’s cheeks together, pulling at the skin, “Look what finals did to you! My gift to you will be a full spa treatment to get rid of those dark circles!” He then pointed towards you, “That includes you too!”

You moved to welcome Solomon into the room as well, and the brothers were more properly introduced to him. Although they had observed your meetings with him, the formalities were shed and when the man called himself Asmo’s boyfriend, there were hands shaking and claps on the back all around.

That just left…

Lucifer stood at the end of the hall that led to his office and the bedrooms, and had been watching the reunion silently. His arms folded, he did not react when the group turned to him and waited anxiously. You didn’t know what had been in that letter, you did not want to breach their privacy (anymore than you had already done), but since Asmo decided to come home, you had hoped it was something honest. Plus, there was what Mammon had said. So surely…?

Asmo smiled and walked languidly towards the eldest. He folded his arms behind his back, and took long steps that made him bounce cheerfully. It was teasing, exaggerated, but it was calculated. When he got close, there was no hug, no open arms. Asmo merely stopped in front of his brother and craned his head up to look at him.

“I’m back.”

“Welcome home.”

And that was all that was said. But Lucifer then swiftly moved to the kitchen, where he moved to set the table for two more seats.

Well, it was a start. Or so you thought, but Lucifer’s cool behavior did not seem to put a damper on the evening, as the brothers broke out the New Year’s champagne early, and partied and laughed for Asmo’s return. Although you and Mammon did not get to have your date, you sat next to him on the couch and he threw an arm around you as you watched the shenanigans- such as Levi and Asmo battling it out in racing games- and you promised him that you would do something tomorrow.

Eventually, you all passed out. Lucifer had somehow prepared a huge feast for Asmo’s return despite the short notice, and it had knocked all of you out. Mammon and you were lucky to be on a couch when it happened, but when you came to in the middle of the night, you saw the others- Levi, Belphie, and Beel- not so lucky as they were piled on top of each other on the floor. Although maybe they were lucky, since Beel was probably a heater himself, and someone had been kind enough to put blankets on all of you. Satan was taking up an entire couch by himself, as whoever was sharing it with him must have vacated it. You didn’t see any sign of Solomon, and when you sat up and saw the clock on the television display 2:07 AM you figured he must have gone home at some point. But did Asmo-?

You pushed yourself off the cushions, sitting up and rubbing your eyes while you tried to be careful to not jostle Mammon awake. You gained your bearings, trying to figure out what had been to wake you. You didn’t particularly have to go to the bathroom, so what did-

“Thank you.”

You flinched and ducked below the couch, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. The voices were coming from the kitchen area, and you could see a small yellow light breaking up the cool blue of the moonlight from the back door. You slowly peeked over the couch to watch.

Asmodeus laughed behind his hand, and paused making something- a drink, probably not coffee, it was too late (unless it was for Lucifer of course, but that was a bad decision, and you winced as you thought about how that man was probably developing ulcers). Lucifer meanwhile, was undistracted, focused solely on his younger brother.

“I mean it, thank you.”

“You really don’t have to, Luce. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. I- I missed you.”

Asmo laughed again, “You don’t have to force yourself. I know what’s going through your head. I always do,” he poked him in between the eyebrows.

“I should have greeted you better when you first came home. I was just… overwhelmed.”

“I know, dummy. I read your letter. Don’t worry. You got through to me.”

Lucifer’s hands moved. He started to lift them, and you saw them shaking. His breath was stuttering too. He seemed nervous, on edge, vulnerable. The light cast shadows across his face that he worked so hard to hide, his own stress and dark circles and guilt eating away at his looks.

“I was… I was so worried. So scared. When you left. And then. When I heard about what happened on set, I-”

“It’s okay, Luce. Like I said. I know what’s going on in your head. You don’t have to voice it. I know it’s especially hard for you. Since I still don’t even know the whole story. But-”

He turned to Lucifer and held out the mug.

“That’s why I did what I did. I was the one to voice it. I was the only one who could. I had to be the one to get the ball rolling.”

Lucifer surged forward and pulled Asmodeus into a hug. It was tighter than the one Beel had wrapped him in earlier. Lucifer was curling around him, protecting him. The shadows wrapped around them like wings, embracing Asmodeus entirely.

“But you shouldn’t have to bear that burden. You shouldn’t have to be the one to do it alone.”

Asmodeus didn’t say anything. You looked away and moved to lay back down next to Mammon. The last thing you heard was:

“Please stay. I can’t bear-”

“Don’t worry. I will. I’m sorry I was gone.”

In the morning, you surprised all the sleepyheads and hangover brains with breakfast. Despite the circumstances, Lucifer was still insisting everyone go in since it wasn’t the holiday for the office yet. Your tasks at work today were the reverse of yesterday. Instead of everyone being kind to your migraine, you made rounds to the different departments, making sure all of your housemates were taken care of and surviving. Diavolo seemed sympathetic to the situation, learning of Asmo’s return, and let everyone leave early. You were called to his office to be the messenger to deliver the news.

“By the way, MC,” Diavolo said from behind his desk, “Are you free on the 27th?”

“The 27th? Why?”

“Milord presumed you would have plans tonight, as it is still the lover’s holiday-” you choked on your tea as Barbatos spoke, the knowing gaze of both men making you flushed.

“And I assumed the other brothers would be vying for your attention the day after, so I thought the 27th would be an odd enough date that you might not have any plans yet.”

“I… guess that makes sense,” You were surprised he had put that much thought into it, “I know I’m going to eventually do something with Satan over our winter break, but we haven’t made plans yet. So, I think I’m free on the 27th.”

“Good. Then, would you like to join me for dinner that evening?”

“Huh? Uh, what?”

“Of course, if you find out you do have plans that day, we can easily reschedule.”

'No, it’s not that, just- What do you mean by dinner?’

“What do I mean?” He smiled behind his folded hands, “What do you think I mean?”

“It’s just that… whatever you have planned might be out of my price range-”

“Ah, I should have been more clear. This would be my treat. It would be a thank you for all the work you’ve done these past few months.”

“Of course, the place Milord has picked out is upscale, so maybe you should have Asmodeus help dress you. Just as a fair warning,” Barbatos leaned over the chair you were seated in, his gloved hands close to your shoulder as they pressed down on the back cushion. It was the most casual you had ever seen him act around you, act in front of Diavolo. Still, it wasn’t the first time he had gotten this close to you. Your heart stirred a little as you glanced at his gloved hands, remembering him coming to your rescue that night in the park.

“I would say we are both looking forward to spending time with you!” Diavolo gave a hearty laugh, “I do hope you won’t disappoint us.”

“Wait, Barbatos will be joining us too?”

You turned around to face the butler. He was unphased, “Of course. Unless you would prefer-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” you waved your hands to clear up the misunderstanding, “I just thought I would get to try your cooking again. I thought that was all Diavolo ever ate, it didn’t fully click in my head until now that we would be eating at a restaurant-restaurant.”

“Do you hear that, Barbatos?” Diavolo was laughing even heartier now. Barbatos smiled at you, and gave a small bow.

“I am happy to hear you think that highly of my cooking.”

“I do! It’s five stars!”

“Barbatos is my trusted employee and I would be nothing without him, however, I must do without him at times,” Diavolo sighed dramatically and rested his head on his fist as he watched the two of you, “And to repay him for all his hard work, I do like to treat him as well.”

“It just so happened that we both wanted time to spend with you. We knew you were short on time, and so our interests happened to align,” Barbatos circled around to sit in the chair beside you.

“You will join us, won’t you?”

The two men were practically batting their eyelashes at you, or at least it felt like, with their smarmy smiles and enamored glances. You had no choice but to say yes, and when you finally left them, you sighed in relief.

Barbatos escorted you out of the office, but motioned for you to lean in once you were at the elevators.

“I’m flattered by your words. If you find yourself with more free time, I would welcome the chance to personally spoil you with my cooking.”

It was illegal for your heart to have to put up with this many handsome guys.

The elevator door opened, and you stiffly moved inside, giving Barbatos a cursory wave before he disappeared from view. You tried to calm yourself before you reached the lobby, and when the doors finally opened, your eyes landed on a head of white hair standing near the glass doors as snow fell behind the pane.

Well, they would have to keep trying, because in the end you only had room in your heart for one.

“Yo, MC!” Mammon waved as you approached. You hurried to meet him. Tonight was his night, afterall.

You woke up the next morning to knocking on your door. Through bleary eyes, you grabbed your phone to check the time, and saw it was only nine. Who would-

“Coming in now! We’re covering our eyes though so if you’re not dressed you still have five seconds to-”

The exaggerated, teasing tone was reminiscent of Asmo but too nasally and low to be him. You recognized it as Belphie, when he was in a good mood, which was rare. You sat up as the door broke open to reveal Belphie and Beel, and true to their word the two walked in with their hand in front of their faces and looking away, but you were in pajamas, so it was fine. You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed and looked up at them as you rubbed crust out of your eyes.

“It’s fine. I’m dressed. What do you want?”

“Are you doing anything today?” Beelzebub asked. You reached for your phone again.

“Uh, what day is it? Saturday?” You looked at the calendar app, seeing the 26th back at you. Tomorrow was dinner. “Uh, no. I’m free. Why?”

“Come shopping with us.”

“Shopping?” No offense, but last time I did that with you guys, it ended really badly. You remembered Beel’s crying face and Belphie’s scowl. Why did they want to go out with you again? Well, Beel, you understood. But why Belphie-?

“There’s a cool market that pops up before New Year’s. There’s a lot of cool artist shops, and also food trucks,” Belphie pointed at Beel, “I need someone to help me supervise him.”

Ah, so that was it. Well, you could work with that.

You rolled your shoulders and popped your joints, “Okay, just let me get dressed and-”

“Also, I want to thank you for getting Asmo to come back.”

You opened your eyes and looked at Belphie. He had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, put his beanie was helping him hide even more of his face than his hair already did, but you could see the frown fighting to stay on his face along with the flush of embarrassment.

Belphie had acted rather baby-ish when Asmo returned, sticking to his side and clinging to him, which was a side of him you had never really seen before. Around the other brothers, he was obviously the youngest, but he was aloof and sarcastic, and seemed empty and missing entirely if he was not stuck to Beel’s side. But, you knew that he and Beel, being the youngest, had it the roughest.

“You’re welcome,” You said, standing up and deciding to take a risk. You walked forward and wrapped an arm around both of the boys in front of you, figuring that Belphie wouldn’t lash out if you were only hugging him half-way. You felt him stiffen for a moment, but Beel accepted your embrace easily, and soon, Belphie relented and accepted it as well.

“I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Wait outside, okay?”

“We can get breakfast on the way. I have enough money to cover you even if Beel takes out two entire trucks.”

Once the boys were gone, you turned back to the lump hiding under your blankets.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Mhm,” Mammon grumbled in response.

Belphie was not lying about the market. It was a beautiful little place made more beautiful by the glowing, warm lights that hung from post to post, even in the daytime. The snow on the ground made the scene beautiful without being terrible cold, still you and Belphie stuck close to Beelzebub who acted as your personal heater. While a lot of your morning ended up sampling the different food trucks as Beel’s eyes were certainly not bigger than his mouth, you did have time to browse the wares from the small business booths that lined the rest of the bazaar.

What surprised you even more was Belphie caught you eyeing some jewelry at one stall, and pulled out his wallet.

“Do you like that one?”

“Yeah. Look at how the light hits it,” You held up the piece and let it spin, reflecting all the colors bouncing off the snow and the white tents, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“...Yeah. Excuse me,” he turned to the owner, “We’d like to buy this one please. Here-” He started to fish through the several bills in his wallet.

“Belphie, wait! You don’t have to.”

“I said I would thank you for bringing Asmo home. This is part of it. I didn’t give you anything on Christmas anyway, so consider this a thank you.”

He nudged your hand away when you tried to stop him from pulling out the money. He gave them to the owner and had them box up the gift.

“Besides,” Belphie handed you the box, “Not just for Asmo. For Beel. And everything else since I met you.”

You looked at him strangely, “I hardly think I’ve done anything that-”

“You have.”

He shoved the box into your hands more forcibly, his one eye looking at you with something… strange.

“Now let’s find Beel. If we’re not careful, he’ll destroy another truck,” he sighed. Dramatic, he strolled away, but you were left staring after him for a moment. Your fingers flexed around the small box, remembering the force he shoved it at you with. The force with which he nudged your hand away, that it was almost a slap. The brothers had strength despite their appearances, you had learned that long ago, but something about Belphie’s behavior was still off, still not adding up.

You were certain he was thankful for Asmo being back home. But you couldn’t say you were close with him yet.

“Asmo, I need your help,” you approached him once you were back home. He was lounging on the couch, with Levi and Satan sitting on either side. Beel and Belphie, after dropping their shoes off and placing the takeout bags on the kitchen counters, also moved to the couches. Everyone was being pulled to Asmo like a magnet since his return. It had only been two days, and even though they had seen him at work, the relief they all felt was obvious. The fact that Beel was going to him over the food he had just brought home said volumes. You felt bad to take him away, even for a moment.

“Anything for my lovely assistant!”

“Well, I was wondering if you could help me style an outfit before tomorrow night?”

“Oh? I thought you already went out with Mammon~”

“This is-” You felt nervous because of the others’ eyes on you now, “Diavolo and Barbatos invited me to dinner. They said it would be upscale. Barbatos was the one who suggested I talk to you.”

Lucifer had come down the hall coincidentally, and stopped and stared at you.

“Diavolo invited you?” He seemed surprised. No, wary?

“He said it was just to thank me for my work so far. That’s all!” You tried to assuage his concerns.

“Well then, that obviously calls for a stylist’s work!” Asmo clapped his hands together and stood up, “Thank goodness you told me now and not tomorrow morning! Let’s get to work right away.”

Asmo started to march you towards your room. Lucifer stepped in your way.

“Where are they taking you? What time? How long will you be gone-”

“What are you, their dad, Luce?” Levi shouted from the couch. Lucifer’s eye twitched, and he folded his arms.

“They didn’t tell me. I texted them earlier today to confirm, I’m sure they’ll get back to me soon.”

“They?”

“Barbatos is also a guest. Not working.”

“Oh, then we have to dress you up extra special if it’s his day off too!” Asmo pushed you further down the hall. As the door closed, you heard one of the brothers yell-

“Don’t dress them too nice or Mammon will be jealous!”

Around six p.m. on the 27th, Barbatos and Diavolo came to the apartment door to escort you. It felt a little silly, like they were coming to ask Lucifer for permission. The man in question was standing behind you in the entranceway, tapping his foot, and looking anxious as Diavolo stepped inside and clapped him on the back, promising to take good care of you.

“It’s just dinner, my good friend! Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn in a few days' time,” he then leaned in and whispered, poorly since you could still hear him, to Lucifer, “This is mainly a treat I arranged for Barbatos’ sake.”

“MC and I do not get many opportunities to talk besides work,” Barbatos smiled at you. He was out of his uniform, but wearing a gray suit with a teal overcoat, “I admit, I am a bit jealous of the seven of you who get so much of their time.”

“As am I,” Diavolo laughed. He was dressed in a black suit with a red vest, and his coat- or was it more of a cape- had fur trimming. You were sure it must be real fur, “Now, come along, MC. As much as I would love to stay and chat with everyone, we do have reservations!”

Lucifer still looked a little off, so before you walked out the door after them, you turned to him and asked outright.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” He immediately said, but at your continued stare, he shut his eyes and sighed, “I just do not want you to exhaust yourself. You’re still recovering from your finals and… other stressors.”

His eyes were nervous, flickering from your face to looking away at some corner of the room. You felt strange. You were flattered that he was worried about you, and it was not the first time he had shown such concern for you, but… so publicly, especially in front of Diavolo? He must be feeling rather relieved and thankful from you returning Asmo home.

“Thank you for worrying about me,” you said, reaching out and patting his arm, which made his eyes shoot back to you. You thought he was going to flinch or pull away, but he resisted and remained still, “But I promise I’ll be okay. I’ve been sleeping, for one. And, if it makes you feel more at ease, I promise I’ll text at least one of you tonight if anything happens. Alright?”

“...Very well.”

“Alright then. I’ll be back later.”

Barbatos and Diavolo stood on either side of the door, framing your path as you stepped over the threshold and out into the hall. Lucifer watched as you made your way into the elevator, and you waved at him as the doors closed. Once downstairs, there was an expensive, black limo waiting for the three of you, and to your surprise, someone else was in the driver’s seat.

“You’re not driving today?” You asked Barbatos.

“It’s my day off, remember?” He said as he opened the door for you.

“If it’s your day off, then you shouldn’t be doing that either,” You moved to take the door from him, and dramatically gestured for him to enter first.

“Apologies, a force of habit,” he laughed.

Diavolo had you climb in next, and although the limo was spacious, you still felt seated “between” them. The car had cushy seats, and some colorful lights that pulsated softly throughout the interior. There was a minifridge, which Diavolo wasted no time opening to pop open a bottle to serve. Everything was already ritzy, and you had not even pulled away from the apartments yet.

“I must say, Asmodeus is truly an expert at his craft,” Barbatos eyed you up and down, and while you felt a little nervous, his gaze, nor Diavolo’s once he turned to look at you as well, was not lecherous at all.

“I must agree. You look wonderful. Thank you for joining us.”

“Thank you for having me,” you said awkwardly, shrugging before folding your hands and staring out the window. The two men were still smiling at you, but you weren’t quite sure what to say, “So, where are we eating tonight?”

“Oh, you will adore the place,” Diavolo took a sip of his glass and leaned forward, talking excitedly, “My father always took me here as a child. It’s very upscale, but the staff is wonderful and…”

“I still feel like an intern doesn’t deserve all this treatment,” you said bashfully as you took a sip of your own glass before setting it back down on the table. You were in a beautiful room of marble and Greek columns, with a dome in the ceiling decorated with a piece meant to rival the famous frescos. The wait staff did everything here, pulled the chairs out and folded and unfolded your napkins, and remained on standby for the moment your glass got a drop less full to refill it. At first, it was a bit overwhelming, but the smiles and reassurances of your companions helped you relax.

“But you’re not just an intern,” Diavolo smiled at you from across the table again, “You’ve already gone above and beyond my expectations, MC.”

“Indeed.”

“It was the right choice to hire you.”

“Well, I guess it was just luck.”

“Luck?”

“That I got scouted. I would never have known about the internship otherwise. You knew that I was really clueless about the D.C. and C.C. when I applied, right?”

Diavolo and Barbatos glanced at each other, but Diavolo smiled and spoke first.

“Yes, but I believe I told you that made you an asset, didn’t it? You didn’t know of our status or fame, and so you were able to approach everything with a fresh perspective. I suppose I should find out who scouted you and give them my highest praise.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck, per se,” Barbatos added, “I believe it was more fate.”

“Fate?”

“Yes. Especially the way you’ve wormed your way into the brothers’ hearts, that is not the work of mere luck.”

“I agree. It would be luck if you were only someone skilled. But you are also kind, compassionate, and inquisitive. You go above and beyond what is expected of you. That is why it must be fate that you came to work for us.”

You smiled, but there was something in his statement that negged you. You had been riding on the high of Asmo polishing you up, the fancy treatment, the compliments, so it did not sink in before, but that word- inquisitive- it pierced something, cracking the mask of the scene- of their smiles. And then it made you think of Barbatos' line. Wormed your way into the brothers’ hearts…

“...And that is why tonight is a celebration of you,” Diavolo continued, from some statement you didn’t quite fully hear, “and of course, Barbatos,” Diavolo laughed behind his glass, a little drunk, “I do my best to take care of my own.”

“We must do what we can to take care of our own.”

You stood up suddenly, knees banging into the underneath of the table and sending your glass nearly knocking over. Diavolo looked at you curiously, but Barbatos was more perceptive, less under the cloud of alcohol. He noticed the allure of the night had shattered, he probably saw you shaking, your eyes burning with rage.

“MC?” Diavolo asked, “Is something the matter?”

You had forgotten. You had been so overwhelmed with Asmo, the project, the production, that you had forgotten weeks ago. Forgot what had happened when you were just entering Beel’s department. Forgot all the frustration you felt from the cold gazes, the smug, secretive smirks the two shared when you were in their office months ago, demanding what was going on with your phone, your laptop, the whole city with information just missing.

Wormed your way into the brothers’ hearts? You wanted to laugh. These two manipulative- They hid information, yet dangled pieces in front of you to keep you just interested enough. Just enough to get you to work in a roundabout way. How could you forget?

Even this whole conversation. Luck? Fate? You bet there was more to the conversation here tonight too. Was this whole invite just another set up? Another way for them to-

“MC,” Barbatos tried again, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m leaving.”

“MC!”

You turned and started to storm out the way you had entered, but Barbatos moved quickly and caught your arm. You moved to shrug him off, but his grip was strong too. That’s right. Everyone is a fucking bodyguard around here. You glared at the waiters. Probably these guys too.

“MC, please, whatever is wrong- sit. Let us discuss it,” Barbatos said. You really wanted to shrug him off, but you knew it as fruitless, so you let him guide you back towards the table. You huffed, but refused to sit back down. Diavolo appeared to have sobered up a bit, because he was looking at you with concern. Was that also a farce too?

“I remembered something.”

“Something you had to do?” Diavolo cocked his head.

“No. Something you both did. Something I forgot because I’ve been so busy and exhausted lately. ‘Worming my way into the brothers’ hearts’ as you so put it.”

You crossed your arms, and suddenly you felt overwhelmed. They were both just looking up at you, innocently, and even though you knew they were anything but innocent, you felt stupid, and anxious, doing this in the middle of such a fancy place. For not just shutting up and enjoying the night. But how could you enjoy it if it was just another tactical move?

You rubbed the back of your hand across your eyes to brush away the tears you felt. Words from weeks ago were coming back to you, feelings you had fought with Asmo, Beel, Belphie, Levi, and Mammon. We take care of our own. At the time those words had meant to keep you out, keep you separate. Ostracize you from the brothers. But then Asmo had confided in you. Mammon had reassured you. You weren’t an outsider. You did belong. At least in the brothers’ lives.

You sniffled again, and looked up, trying to not let your tears ruin the makeup Asmo had done, but you had already wiped your face, so it was probably smudged anyway. You saw something black on the back of your hand, so that was that, and you felt the tears come faster with frustration at how stupid you were.

“MC, please, sit down-”

“You know,” you said, voice shaky and resigned, “I really wanted to enjoy tonight. But I don't know what the two of you want from me. What you are planning. What you want me to do. You obviously know everything I’ve been up to, so stop playing dumb. Stop acting like-”

“I also wanted to enjoy tonight,” Barbatos cut you off, his expression tense but… nervous? His lips pursed like they didn’t know what face to make, and his eyes looked to the ground before he gained enough confidence to look you directly in the eye.

Diavolo spoke to the servants, “Leave us for a moment.”

They left the room quickly. Barbatos continued.

“You are right. I do know what you’ve been up to. I work the security cameras. I keep tabs on all the employees. I’ve been watching Asmodeus very closely. I know about what he told you, and I know what the others have told you too. I also know how all of this- the brothers, Milord and I- have drained you.”

He grabbed you again, this time, your hand, but this time gently. He took the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off the smudge, but when he was done he didn’t let go. He massaged your fingers as he spoke, almost like a nervous fidget, and it was then you realized Barbatos wasn’t wearing any gloves.

“I meant what I said about being jealous of the brothers, who get so much time to grow close to you. To fight and then learn to forgive and you learn to do the same with them. The last two times we spoke, I felt our relationship was tarnished. I wanted to fix it. To move forward.”

Barbatos continued to knead your hand, almost like he was pleading with you to forgive him. He looked so different, so vulnerable, compared to the version in your memory that had lied and played ignorant with a smile on his lips. You turned your angry gaze to Diavolo, who had been silent during this confession.

“And you?”

“I instructed Barbatos to act to keep the brothers’ history a secret from you, because that is all they have ever desired since that day. They’ve lived in fear, MC. I had to act to protect them. At the time, you were still an outsider in that regard to most of them. So, if we had to play the villains, then so be it.”

“But censoring information like that-”

“You have heard much of the story already, MC,” Diavolo sighed, “Your emotions right now are making you forget. Stop and think for a moment. It is not just me who would stand to gain from protecting that information.”

Barbatos let go of your hand. You took a breath, and did as he said. The C.C. was the one who faked their deaths, so it did make more sense for them to do that over Diavolo. And if both companies were working together because of some deal made then, all the more control they would.

“I’m sorry. You were right. I had forgotten about that,” You took a breath again, “Truthfully, it’s not the censorship I’m really mad about now. That’s just… one part of it. I don’t know who you both are. What you want from me. If this dinner is supposed to accomplish anything.”

“All we want- is to let you know the real us,” Diavolo and Barbatos looked at each other again, “It was my orders that made Barbatos the villain in your eyes, and this, is my apology. To both of you. I understand that before that incident, you two were on the path to becoming good friends. Or, at least, friendly co-workers.”

“Is that truly all this is?”

You wanted to believe it. You wanted to believe it so bad.

“Yes,” Diavolo said, “I still won’t give you information if you come to me for it. I’ve put it in the hands of the brothers now, and if the rest of them choose to tell you, then so be it. My job has always been to protect them, regardless of what they choose to do.”

“MC, please,” Barbatos was pleading. It was wrong. Your stomach twisted itself up in guilt. You sighed.

You finally sat back down.

“I… am sorry for ruining dinner.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. This is what tonight is for.”

“No, I ruined it. It’s okay. I’m sure there… was a million more mature ways for me to go about that without acting like that. I really don’t belong in a fancy place like this.”

“Then we’ll take you to a million more places like this until you feel comfortable,” Diavolo smiled, and signaled for the waiters to come back into the room, “Now, are we ready for dessert?”

You stared down at your lap and tried to steel yourself. Barbatos, still holding your hand, gave you a reassuring squeeze to draw your eyes up to him. He was smiling softly, and it made you feel a little bit better, like the night wasn’t completely ruined after all, but your eyes still stung.

After dinner, Diavolo had the driver drop you off a little ways away from the apartment so that you could walk off any of the mixed feelings still lingering. Barbatos was the only one who kept pace with you. Diavolo remained a few steps ahead each time.

“I hope you understand that… I was only doing my job at the time. I must act in accordance to what-”

“It’s fine, Barbatos. Really. Let’s just drop it. I’ve forgiven you already.”

“But you still are hostile to me.”

“It’s going to take some time, okay?”

“I apologize.”

Silence. Except for your footsteps. The silence was weird. Not off putting, but… familiar? The last time you had been with Barbatos like this was that night he had rescued you after you nearly froze to death from a dissociative episode.

You stopped walking.

“Thank you for rescuing me that one time… When I was in a bad mental state. I mean, I guess you probably knew what that was about too!” You laughed airly, and Barbatos frowned at your ill attempt at a joke, “But… Thank you. I probably would have frozen out there if it wasn’t for you.”

“The thanks should go to Lord Diavolo, for sending me. Or for the brothers, for alerting him to your abse-”

“But it was you who found me.”

Barbatos stopped walking and turned to face you.

“It was you who came to get me. Who knew what to say to get me to move again. So, the thanks goes to you.”

And with that, you took a step forward. A small one, but it was one that Barbatos followed after nonetheless.

The two men returned you to the apartment around nine. And although you did end up enjoying the meal, you were thankful when goodbyes were had. You closed the door and ran through the entryway to the living room where everyone still was, and practically threw yourself onto the couch on top of Asmo.

“Welcome back- oh Darling you look a mess! What happened?”

“I’m fine. Just tired, is all,” you said, burying your face in a pillow. You were thankful none of the men decided to push it, and were grounded by them all of them brushing a hand over your back or smoothing over your hair as they resumed whatever show they were watching or game they were playing. You even felt Lucifer’s hand, he was the one who chose to comb through your hair gently, and you could tell by his sigh that he was relieved you were home too.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me: shall we date?#omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #poland's writing

20 notes · View notes

heartshapedbubble · 10 months

Note

HIHI!! Dunno whether the birthday reqs are full but would it be too much trouble to ask for hcs of Edgar & Andrew having a crush on the reader (basically they're both crushing on the reader at the same time)?? I'm not sure whether this counts as jealous 'n stuff but I'm really sorry if it does & you can ignore this request !! 👍👍

HII SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!! i think this passes juuust underneath the line for jealous stuff so i'm up for it :]

putting a cw just in case bc andrew wants edgars ass DEAD lmao

edgar valden and andrew kreiss having a crush on the reader at the same time hcs🎨🕸

edgar valden🎨

jealousy is not something new to edgar, in fact, he knows it very well - his crush on you was heavily toned down and controlled, him making sure you don't notice him blushing or seeking physical touch, but his jealousy is going to throw him off his rocker and cause him to be very obvious and clingy

edgar generally likes to be a bit snobbish/braggy about his paintings and skills, but when he realizes you might get with andrew instead despite his talent he's going to become very worried. his jealousy unveals his number one weakness - someone being better than him. he was always number one in both his parents' and his mentor's eyes, being their precious little wunderkind that could provide them with a masterpiece with the flick of his wrist, and now all his talent is in vain because of someone who can't even compete with him? bullshit!

he doesn't show jealousy and doesn't like to admit it, but he'll often be passive agressive and make snarky remarks here and there. the most that it will come to (after days and days of edgar questioning both himself and you) is him directly asking you what exactly do you see in the anxious, clumsy gravekeeper

to combat this and try to win you over, edgar is going to be asking you out more frequently, even better if it's right in front of andrew, secretly scribbling sketches of you when you aren't looking, asking you to pose for his paintings, even giving them out to you for free - you'd be asking yourself if this is the same edgar you knew before.

although edgar does become immature and needy during this period of time, at the end he'll have to accept the truth if the case was you picked andrew over him. but if you chose him - oh man, where could he even begin? he'll make sure he gives you the best treatment he could provide to anyone ever

andrew kreiss🕸

andrew is such a horrendously bad liar that it's laughable. his crush on you can't even be considered a rumor spread around during the manor tea parties - it's something that the entire oletus manor claims as a fact. it even reached the hunters' side, which occassionally asks him the infamous question during the games to make him lose his balance and become a sweaty, blushing mess

when he finds out he's not the only one admiring you romantically, it awakes a flurry of mixed feelings inside of him. at first, he's hopeless, he's already dealt with collective social rejection and shame that it can't even phase him that much. but at the same time... you're not like them, are you? you treat him with such kindness and care, you couldn't possibly do that.. oh, but look at edgar! everyone admires his art, he's truly a virtuoso in the making! how could he compete against him? it's best for him to give up immediately..

oh, but wait. he could always yank him away during a match, hide his trusty shovel behind his back and....

yes, i'm being serious. andrew would 100% contemplate killing edgar. not being accustomed to any kind of social cues, it's simply the most logical solution for him - you just eliminate the obstacle. it's as easy as that. yet, is this what you'd truly desire? would he kill for you? in a moment of desperation the answer is yes, i would kill for them, but once he realizes what he's doing he's going to stop immediately, shocked by his own train of thought. he's definetly horrified of losing you, but his anxiety will make his fear sky rocket and come to such drastic conclusions.

to appeal to you he's going to become a bit more keen on initiating affection, and you might notice that the bouquets he makes for you became bigger and started arriving to your front door more frequently... he's just doing any little thing in his power, already knowing he's no match for the manor's quick-witted painter

if you choose edgar over him, he'll just take a deep breath and move on. it might be a burden to him for some time, but hey, it's not like he hasn't dealt with similar situations before. yet, if it's him you desire... he'll cling onto you for eternity, showering you with all the love he could ever give to somebody

140 notes · View notes

beoneofus · 11 months

Note

What do you think the boys’ favorite hobbies are?

I was gonna make a joke about paul's being masturbation but let me be actually serious 😭.

okay, okay. so I've kinda thought about this...

marko likes art, and I see him being into many different varieties of it. however, I don't think it's necessarily his favorite hobby nor past time... that's his passion. his favorite hobby; sunrise watching. he can't be on the sun or near it, but watching from afar through cracks in the cave soothes him. it doesn't necessarily make sense either, but he remembers as a human that the color orange always signified a warmth in him. that's why he uses it a lot when he paints, when he draws, when he looks for a new patch or pin to add to his jacket. I don't think the little vampire actually remembers much of his past because it was so long ago, he just knows that the most enjoyable moments were circled around orange and warmth. so he loves to watch the sunrise, because the color is so pretty - the way the sun beats off of the horizon is gorgeous, and he can only imagine how the feel of the heat from it actually feels. he misses it, being able to soak in the sun, but just watching it gives him closure.

for paul, I see him as someone who loves to collect things. you'd think he'd love to maybe play an instrument or do something music related, but once again that's his passion. when he's high, he often gets lazy and likes to either lounge around or go on a short walk because his legs don't hold out for long; with this, he learned that there's some pretty rad things out in the world. for instance, leaves. he finds the texture and colors of different ones really cool. however, I think his favorite thing to collect would be insects or small critters. they become his little buddies. he actually ended up adopting a toad he discovered in the grass not too far from the beach. it was so chill, that paul just had to keep the dude and name him olly. sick, right? he thought so too.

dwayne is definitely the one to revolve his being around things soothing yet... mysterious, in a way. so he took on the art of scribble journaling. he writes out his feelings, thoughts, takes on thw world and so on - but in a messy manner, with doodles and jagged drawings in between. he also likes to add stickers sometimes, but of course they have to fit his persona or else the entire journal is ruined. overall, he's a quiet guy, so I think him documenting shit is a perfect fit. correct me if you think otherwise.

ah, david.. now this is pretty hard to say. he's easy to read on one hand, but on another I'd have to say he's a tough case to crack. buuuut... I think david may be into something mediocre and calm, yet fun in a way. perhaps thrifting; fixing up old leather jackets, boots. I can see him adopting old wear and fixing it up to be more durable or overall new looking. it'd be a surprise at first when the others’ find out, but david wouldn't be too bothered. I actually see this as something he'd truly enjoy, which is why it won't be a problem to share it with his coven. cause, let's be real, the man has a funky style we all adore. It's his calling to be one with the wardrobe.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #tlb 1987 #ask the freak

52 notes · View notes

katabay · 9 months

Note

I'm going to be honest finding your account has sent me down a rabbit hole I did not expect to find myself in, yesterday I spent six hours, looking at all of your stuff and I'm absolutely amazed, I have no words. Your art and everything you talk about I'm absolutely fascinated in a very normal way I don't mean to sound weird. I was wondering if you had any thoughts to share with someone who's hating everything they draw and have lost the fun and passion when creating, I want to snap out of it.

I've been holding onto this ask for a minute because a few years back I went through a phase (I call it a phase, I fully intended never to pick up art again) where I also hated everything I was making

ultimately, what got me out of it was mostly doing other stuff. not even in a 'get a new hobby,' kind of way, I hated drawing in my sketchbook, so I started cutting out washi tape as clothes over old sketches and filling in the negative space between scribbles with highlighter and pen colors I thought looked nice. I went out to daiso, bought $10 worth of stickers, and started putting them where I thought it would look nice when I got the urge to do something but still couldn't bring myself to actually pick up a pencil.

if there's something that you know for sure you don't like about art, it can help to confront it and then go in the other direction. there were a lot of things I used to draw because I felt like it was expected, only I was unhappy all the time, and once I realized I was unhappy because I wasn't actually exploring what I thought was interesting about the subject holding my attention, it was sometimes easier to see what I DID want to do, I just had to acknowledge what I DIDNT want first.

that said, I still have an on-off again antagonism with myself and art, it's messy and it's always going to be that way for me, but whenever I feel stuck, I do try to change things up, or head off to a space that I feel has absolutely no expectations from me whatsoever. like. whenever I get really annoyed on my history blog, I actually turn to watching 2PM's vlogs on youtube. I have enough 2PM art in my sketchbooks I almost thought about making a dedicated HOTTEST twitter account lmao.

probably my last thought on this might be: try keeping two sketchbooks. nothing expensive. one can be something more serious, but keep a space just for yourself to fuck around in. don't draw in it unless you want to. put stickers in it, press flowers that you think look neat. buy some cheap water colors and see if you like the blues that you get out of it. it's okay to feel antagonistic towards art, but if you aren't ready to break up with it (and art will always be there if you want to go back, that's an important thing), I've found the straightforwardness of 'I like these stickers, so I'm going to put them on top of this square of blue I liked,' to be akin to leaving messages for someone you aren't ready to talk to face to face just yet, but maybe someday.

#idk if this was helpful but i am wishing you the world anon #(a lot of my current antagonism with art comes from expectations i feel other people have for me #and also this part of me that doesn't want to come across as cringe so i'll suffocate things i want to do for things i think will #come across more serious. usually tho i kill this impulse in its sleep because the joy of embracing whatever bullshit #captures my attention is so much more satisfying in the end #i will say part of what fixed a lot of it was allowing myself to feel angry that art wasn't what i wanted it to be #bc in turn it let me start to figure out what i wanted to do)#ask tag #actually hang on i have a. i have a photoset from a show that had a really good bit on creative burnout that might be #....comforting? maybe. i think about it often #i'll have to dig it up

41 notes · View notes

cubur · 1 year

Note

Hello, I'm sorry to have disturbed you just stopped by to say how much I love your drawings. Your latest art with snow124 gives me so much joy, the two of you are incredible 🛐💕 What I want to ask is why are you sometimes funny and sometimes so serious kind of cold and numb? I don't understand and it's making me hesitate to write to you. Sorry for any mistakes. English is not my native language 😫

Anyway I love what you create and your art style 🔥🙌💕💕💕

Hello there！ Hmm… Idk but it felt a little strange to me to got a question like this now. I mean, every person has moods that change according to a situation they experience. Don't you have x)?

But uhm …when you say "sometimes funny" do you mean the scribbles i drew with Snow? If so, then this is Snow's achievement not mine (only those who know me know this side of me). But I don't usually have a funny personality that makes fun of everything, on the contrary i often have negative thoughts when i'm alone with myself. (Oh don't worry i'm not going to start talking about my emotional state now otherwise this answer would be pretty long again x)) And not sure about cold/numb thing, but yes i usually have a serious attitude towards people i don't know well… I can't call "baby, sweety, dear etc." to someone i've only talked for two days, that's my personality 🤷🏻‍♀️ But even so, you don't have to hesitate to write me or something pls！I haven't bitten anyone yet, although i respond a little late to messages in most cases ^^;

Just thank you for your support and love！❤️❤️ And sorry for making you feel this way

#text post

25 notes · View notes

tenebrare · 1 year

Text

Deus Ex- Sarif's attack dog (revisited) + Post about how and why this revisit came to be aka some self-reflect (warning: long, ... OMG too long)

During Inktober2022, when I was forced to (as its part of the challenge) post daily, in some point I took a look of my 2022 postings in general. I found that I have taken my blogs title "Sketchbook and doodles" too literal. Almost all my works posted were... are... 1-2 day quick scribbles and clearly unfinished. Except 3. 2 of which were done in 2021 and still fit the 1-2 day filling and one work which I had done while recovering serious health related issue and was forced to focus only on recovery and I kept working on a singular piece the time without thinking about completing the piece itself (as my goal was just to fill the time I was awake and give my brain something else than health to think about) nor being stressed by war, bills, work. And out of those 3 remaining works that last is only one I wouldn’t know how to change, when I open its original file now. Also the other remotely almost passable as closer to complete works were done before war and illness. Why I have rushed like this – where was I hurrying to? Did I believe I improve better if I do more? Yet my best fan-work of 2022 is one I did, when I was physically so weak I was barely able to hold any objects like my pen (even eating and holding a spoon exhausted me to the point I slept hours afterwards), but just invested more time on doing something. Inktober was like a sum of the same – out of the 31 works I did, the best one in my opinion is the one I failed at original day and did bit by bit on other remaining days. Where am I running to? I should sit the f*** down. 2022 is trying to tell me something and I should listen. It 1st broke my graphics card few days in. Started a war close enough month after. Got me ill and almost killed me next month after that and then heatwaved me to heat-sickness soon as I started to do some recovery few months down. Canceled all my long planned events and activities for august and changed what-and-how in September. Only thing it did not cancel was me seeing my favorite band in July (in fact ‘universe’ in particular delayed the gig to be in 2022 from 2020). Maybe by November I should take the darn hint? … I finally sat down after Inktober. Meditated a few days, sitting back against almost ice cold-radiator in a 12C room (the machinery in basement shut itself off again and it was 12C outside as well). So I went back and took one the unfinished works and gave myself no time limits - „It is done, when it is done.” I told myself - “I am not running anywhere, no one gave me deadline. I do this because I love doing stuff like this. Do it like you just hired yourself and want your moneys worth. And above all – have fun. I must have fun again, like when I was 2 and scribbled believing I am greatest painter in the world and for my family I was.” Uh, and the widget in the basement started working after I had found calm in self as well worked on this piece a few days and is stable 21C now. If I’d believe in paranormal, I’d say this house is alive and is catching up my moods. But thanks, house, for the widget being back online. The gas company found no fault in the widget and its systems. Not in spring, when it stopped working 1st time after being just installed, nor this falls … Well… in this region we believe that old houses have their own spirits and personalities after all. Here’s “Sarif’s Attack Dog” as I wanted it to be 8 months ago. Just spent 5 times more time on it. Viewer, who wants, does find flaws in it and could argue about ‘its done, when its done’ part, but it is not about if someone else can do it better, likes it or does not like it or any other 100 problems, but its about how I wanted it to look-like in given moment and gave myself time to do it. Maybe it should be my 2023 years resolution? “Sit the f-down and take my sweet time on all things I do – including fan-art?” Provided 2023 doesn’t try to kill me again, like 2022 did… tehehe? PS! That lone fully completed 2022 fan-art of mine was Francis Pritchard hacking Adams computer in Prague

#deusex #deusexfanart #deusexart #deus ex #david sarif #adamjensen #adam jensen #deusexgames #deusexuniverse #deus ex mankind divided #myart #illustration #life story #lifelessons #dxmd #dxhr #fanartfriday #fanart friday #deus ex fanart

29 notes · View notes

rosedmuse · 2 months

Text

entitle; for haruseonne 950 days

if i had to write on a wish list just one gift out of millions in the world to treasure forever, then i wouldn't hesitate scribbling your name down on it.

happy 950 days (and more), harutosan!

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

And thus, it's time his flight is due. Amidst all lies, he very well went and grew. Across endless skies of the brightest blue, A bird of ambition finally soars through.

Ah, lines like these never grow old; never failing to prompt me into being completely honest about just how pretty of a name 'Haruto' is. And so is 'Asuka'.

Pair the two up and immediately a masterpiece is born. A work of art in its truest formーan actor encapsulating the essences of beauty, passion, and an endless pursuit of perfection.

Anyone would think a person of this character exists solely in a realm beyond what an ordinary human can ever imagine. But guess what.

Here I am, sitting right behind the being divine in question.

"Seonne?" He asks.

"Haruto-san," I respond.

"What chapter are you on?"

"Five."

With a shrill almost like that of an eagle, he quickly shifts a quarter around in his seat to face me; looking nothing less than bewildered, "already!?"

A warm, sunny day veils over Veludo Way this morning, making the final couple hours of daytime an ideal setting for an outdoor unwind, specifically at the park.

While parked beside a large tree for shade, an old blanket is laid down onto the grass to get ourselves comfortable on. I take a seat on the spot where the view features children fly their kites and families enjoy their own picnics, and Haruto, who is sits opposite of me, relishes at the sight of the townscape spreading out gradually below us; both of us leaning onto each other's backsides for support. And how could a date at the park be an actual date at the park without... books! I brought with me two volumes from the series I'm currently a huge fan of. Why two, you might ask? Well, the second book's for me; and since I'm done with the first one, my companion promised to start this story alongside me.

"The protagonist reminds me of you," I tell him, eyes fixed solely on the material I have resting on my knees, "strong, smart, a little silly at times but y'know..."

"Hey," Haruto snaps, and I feel a gentle poke by my ticklish side. Glancing back accusingly at him after holding back my sensitive nerves, I meet his lilac eyes and recognize a tiny hint of a tease in them. With a light shake of my head, I return to my page.

It's nice that we managed to finish work a little early today. Sometimes, a brief pause from the world is all a busy person needs to recharge, recoup, and renew the flames driving their fiery hearts forward. Not to mention that today happens to be an extra special day for us, too.

"No, really," I say again, "you do remind me of the protagonist. They're known for a lot of names, too!"

"I'm known only for one other name!" Haruto argues. He may not know it (or simply refuses to admit it) but his sudden outbursts like this make him really cute at times. No way I'm using that word right to his face though or I'd be done for!

He clears his throat. "And, well..." but falters, before he could form a coherent thought out.

Clearly, that doesn't normally happen. Must he be wanting to add something a bit more serious to the conversation?

Temporarily inserting a marker and setting my book aside, I reach out and rest my hand above his shoulder to assure and urge him on. He hasn't directed his eyes towards me yet, so I assume he's still sorting his head out.

"Seonne,"

Wait. His accent changed.

"What's the matter, Harutoー"

"No." He swiftly places his index finger over my lips. Leaning close to my ear, he whispers, "you can call me by my real name when we're alone."

Oh.

Well, this is new.

Mentally practicing every day how the name might sound when I finally can say it aloud seems to have come in handy all of a sudden. What perfect timing.

"So..." After a moment, I clarify, "Genta?"

"Gen-chan," he corrects.

"Gen-chan!?"

"Please."

Extending my arms around him in a hug, I press my cheek firmly onto his shoulder. I may not have seen the reaction on his face, but feeling the weight of his head lightly on mine and him holding onto my interlinked arms, already tells me everything I need to know.

"I 'ppreciate ya keepin' up with me."

"I wouldn't want to keep up with anyone else anyway," I proudly say. "Right, Gen-chan?"

And who could've known that an entity so regal and brave is likewise (though occasionally) capable of showing the world a smile so sweet, genuine and humane?

Although he has yet to own a clue, As to when he'll find out his cue. And once come the first couple few, As fate wills, he is to be born anew.

#a3! yume #a3 yume #self-insert #first person pov #haruseonne

2 notes · View notes

muertarte · 11 months

Text

PARTIES: @notpigmeat @muertarte

SUMMARY: Jazz is looking for a new date spot, and Metzli ends up being the only tour guide available. Jazz immediately tries to flirt. Will it work?

TIMING: Current

WARNINGS: None!

Jazz was in desperate need for a new place to take his dates. The ice cream shop he frequented started questioning why he brought so many women there. One could imagine the woman he had brought that last time didn't find it amusing.

Jazz wandered the streets of Wicked's Rest. Coffee shops and bars littered the map. "These ain't it." He said as he passed yet another pub. He needed something unique. Something that would make his dates swoon.

A place like…MuertArte?

The red door and black exterior stood out next to the monotony of beige, all but beckoning any soul curious enough to enter. So, he did.

It was early afternoon when the speaker chimed, announcing another patron. Metzli peered around the corner, seeing a man on the search for something. “Hm…” They hummed to themself, placing the clipboard on the counter to scribble a few notes for the latest piece they were archiving for next month’s rotation. The artist wouldn’t be too happy that their piece wasn’t sold, but it would have another chance. Metzli was more than good at their job. They’d see to it.

With a final flick of their pen, the vampire’s deadpan stare met with the stranger’s visage. He was still searching—or was it canvassing? In all their years in the clan, Metzli observed many mannerisms, memorizing what each one meant. There was purpose to every slide of his eyes, but what was it? As much as they hated talking, Metzli knew their paranoia would not be sated until they got to the bottom of whatever he was doing.

Sighing, they adjusted their suit jacket, rolling their shoulders as they approached, movement rigid and cold. “Can I help you?” Metzli looked up to the ceiling, focusing on a single point, “You are looking for something.”

Jazz didn't immediately respond. He took a step back and observed this tall, lanky person that walked up to him.

"What's good, baby? I'm just taking in the sights." He said slickly. He licked his lips and bit the bottom one. Jazz liked tall and lanky. He wasn't getting flirty vibes but he's been able to change that before.

"This chick must have some serious paper." He thought to himself. All types of paintings lined the wall; each one looking more expensive than the last.

There was no baby in sight. What the hell was that man talking about? Metzli looked around, trying to find this misplaced child, but they found none. “There is no baby. Have you bought ticket? If not, there will be no sights.” Logging into the front desk computer, Metzli saw that the last patron was thirty minutes ago. The man in front of them had definitely only been there a few minutes. So, no, he hadn’t bought a ticket.

Metzli rounded the desk and tilted their head, almost ominously, as they watched the man look at the paintings. When it looked like he was turning back to them, they finally spoke up. “You have not bought ticket. Are you going to?” They shifted their weight from front to back repeatedly, wishing they were back in the curation room. Paintings were so much easier to be around.

"There is no baby."

"What the hell is she talking about." Jazz thought. He figured this cutie was playing hard to get. He let out a chuckle expecting one back. "Alright I'll buy a ticket. Unless there's a discount for sexy people?" He ran his fingers through his hair. No one has ever resisted his fingers running through his hair.

To be perfectly honest the paintings did appear interesting. He figured he could actually take in the actual sights of the art.. after getting a phone number of course, he thought.

Their brrows knitted together with confusion, unable to decipher what the hell this man was trying to say. Why would there be a discount for sexy people? Even if there was, Metzli took one good look at the man as he ran his hand through his hair, and shook their head internally. Definitely not their type. Not sexy. At least, not to them. “No such thing as sexy discount.” They stated blandly, face stoic.

“There is child discount, elderly discount, and student discount. That is it. It is fifteen dollars for entry.” Metzli paused, tapping their foot as anxiety rose. As much as they didn’t want to, they knew they’d have to personally give the man a tour with Rachel and Gavin busy. “If you buy ticket, you can have self-guide or have guide like…” Metzli swallowed, “Like me to tell you about works. Your choice.” They clenched their jaw and balled their hand into a fist, somehow still maintaining a face devoid of emotion.

Jazz had flirted with countless women in his days as a boxer. Clenched teeth and a balled fist was never a good sign.

"You're a tough cookie, baby. Here. I'll take the tour." He said with a wink as he slid a $20 bill across the counter. He didn't show it but he was pondering if he came on too strong.

He looked down and saw the tapping foot of an incredibly impatient person. "My bad, honey. You must be taken."

Metzli wanted to bite. Frustrations were reaching an all time high and the peak had nowhere to descend to. They supposed they could take a breath and hold it there. Release the tension with a hunt after the tour.

“Not a cookie. A person.” They took a breath, and took the money, handing over a ticket and change before circling around the front desk. “One moment.” Metzli disappeared into their office and took the moment of reprieve to stretch and remove their suit jacket. Having a little extra room to move always helped.

Returning to the front, Metzli kept their eye trained on the path ahead, nodding to the statement. They’d heard the colloquialism before in reference to Leila. The thought of her alone was enough to settle their nerves. “Yes. Taken. Have girlfriend.” They paused, rolling their shoulders and proceeding down the hallway to begin the tour. “Now follow. We will begin with new exhibit from local artist Natalia Anderson. She uses two mediums. Marble and oil.” Stopping in front of the first painting, Metzli waited for any possible questions their guest may have.

Jazz's toothy grin faded away. He'd never given up on getting the number of someone he was flirting with. "Just need some time to break the ice." He thought. This ice was thick as an iceberg. He followed quickly as this beauty had quite a long stride.

They stopped in front of a painting. He admittedly wasn't listening to the name of the artist but he thought that the painting was really nice.

He rubbed his chin, "Wow. It's so… metaphorical." He said trying to sound artsy. He at least hoped he didn't sound stupid.

There was a pause. Maybe he should ask a question but he didn't have any. He was out of his element. If only there was a painting of an athlete or a pretty girl he'd have plenty to say.

They made eye contact with each other for what seemed like a little bit too long.

It’s so…metaphorical.

Metzli blinked slowly, just once, obviously annoyed by the poor attempt to critique the art. Now that was why they did their best to avoid giving tours. Dios, they needed to hire more guides. Having only Rachel and Gavin was not cutting it anymore.

“You sound like idiot.” Metzli broke the eye contact, rubbing their eyes to try and refocus. At that point, they just wanted to give the guy a refund. Or better yet, maybe a snack was in order.

No. No. They couldn’t do that. MuertArte had to be protected. The lack of planning alone would prove to be to the gallery’s detriment. For now, Metzli would keep their gallery meals to only forgers. It was safer that way.

“Do you even like art? Why are you even here?”

"Geez, what's with the insults?" Jazz snapped. Why are the cute ones always so rude? He gave up on getting the number out of pure frustration.

He looked at the art piece again. He thought hard about something to say but he just couldn't think of anything. It was paint on a canvas! Big freakin' deal!

"Sorry I'm not some artsy prick! I'm here because I'm looking for cool date spots but it seems like y'all don't like the uninitiated. Whatever, bite me." Jazz said as he raised a middle finger. He wasn't usually this mean but hell what was he supposed to do?

He wanted to leave but he wouldn't give this chick the satisfaction. After all, he's a paying customer.

"What would one actually say about this painting?" He asked with a vindictive grin. If he was going to stay he was going to get his money's worth out of this tour guide.

Anger burst into Metzli’s chest. Like a levee bursting on the hottest day of summer. The lights, warm as they may be, became too bright. A ringing filled their ears, and they hardly heard what was being said until bite me echoed in their mind. Now that was something Metzli could do. They’d already had it as an idea before, but now they were being told to do it. How could it be bad if it had been a demand?

Metzli licked their lips, fangs beginning to extend. Just one bite and this idiot would finally shut his—wait. The vampire blinked, straightening their posture as a new question presented itself. Taking a grounding breath, Metzli looked at the painting, brows furrowing together with thought.

The piece was haunting. The moment the curator laid eyes on it, they knew they had to have it. Anderson depicted a screaming figure, using masterful skill with her brush to create something moving. Metzli had many things to say about it. That’s what made it easy to speak, words tumbling off their tongue quickly and breathlessly. “The piece captivates viewer with sense of dread. It easily gives energy of humanity locked deep inside the woes of the figure’s screams.” Metzli stepped closer, their passion shining through as they gestured to the painting. "The dark color palette and the intense, wide void creates a sense of foreboding. It gives sense of falling in. Like you are being consumed by the scream just as they are.”

"......ok then." Jazz said quietly. Where in the hell did she get all of that from? It sounded real artsy farty. A bit much though.

"Easy, lady. It's a nice piece I guess." Jazz thought the intensity was weird but he hung on every word as the curator spoke. He could definitely use these words on his next date. But the way these words were said…. If they weren't so mean Jazz may have considered leaving his number behind.

The passion for art that was just displayed was something that Jazz respected. His tour guide’s eyes lit up the same way his did when he heard the bell ring at the start of a boxing match. "At least you're nice to the art." He chuckled.

Metzli snapped from their reverie, anger pluming in their chest just as it had before. “I am not lady.” They gestured to themself, to the pin just above their pocket square. “Read my pronouns.” Metzli demanded, shoulders inching toward their ears with tension squeezing them. If they weren’t so flustered, they probably would’ve given their guest a little more grace. He wasn’t being malicious by calling them a lady. It just seemed to be a part of his typical vernacular.

Regardless, Metzli took a deep breath and rubbed their face tiredly. At least he noticed how much they revered the art they curated. “Art speaks many languages.” They spoke calmly that time, shoulders relaxed and downcast. “Keeps things quiet while it say many things. Say things artist cannot.” Metzli looked back to Jazz, wishing the tour to be over. They weren’t sure how much longer that could take the social interaction.

“I will give you refund. I cannot do this tour.” Metzli turned on their heel and stopped short of exiting into the lobby. “I give apology. Too much happening. No more…what do they call it?” Metzli had heard the term both in person and in a book. They perked up when their mind filled in the gap. “No more social battery. Have very small one.”

Jazz couldn't help but feel embarrassed. How had he not noticed the pronouns pin on their shirt? He was the one being a jerk the entire time. He sighed.

Jazz briefly remembered when he had first learned of Muhammad Ali. A cocky boxer that was born under a different name. When he decided to change it to Muhammad Ali it's like the entire world pushed back. Ali had beaten many an opponent senseless for calling him his dead name. Jazz always made sure that he would always call people what they wanted to be called and that included pronouns.

"That's my bad, fam. I didn't notice. Maybe it was your beauty that blinded me." He raised an eyebrow slightly. He honestly didn't mean it in a flirtatious way. The proverbial ship had sailed as far as getting their number went.

"I don't need a refund. I found exactly what I came here for." Jazz held his hand up and gestured that he didn't want money back. "I'll be back. Soon." Jazz took in the art piece one last time, "Hm… yeah that's definitely dread I'm feeling." He grinned at his tour guide before turning on the spot. He flashed the peace sign as he began strolling towards the door.

As annoying as the man had been, Metzli could see a new, more genuine side of him when embarrassment flooded over him. They considered for a moment that maybe they were a bit too harsh, becoming part of the problem themself. People so often ostracised Metzli, made fun of them when they were so clearly still in the room, that they were too quick to judge the man. Before they could properly apologize though, he turned on his heel and was exiting the door.

Metzli stood there like a deer in the headlights, blinking with lids of confusion. He said he’d be back soon. They’d try harder the next time to be more welcoming. “Okay,” Metzli nodded, looking at their hand and making the peace sign at themself. They mimicked what they’d seen and did it in return, a gesture of good will. The two would meet again.

#wickedswriting #bloody ink #writings #jazz and metzli #c: jazz #pronouns and peace signs

8 notes · View notes

kamikotorayama391 · 11 months

Text

Hello~

Finished a project for Landscape architecture exam that coming in 2 days

The rest must be done until Monday

It's already more than half-done

I need just...put myself together...and go through it to the end

(I felt soooo good after scribbling this picture above, if only you knew.... photoshoping pics for my course projects and making some not-so-serious-yet-satisfying art are two polar different things)

#Kamiko Torayama #architecture student

9 notes · View notes

rouninren · 6 months

Text

i have a tendency to quickly make a piece and then leave it on hold for months for god knows what reason

started this pixel art on canvas in late june and still didn't finish because... just cuz.

i think it didn't turn out the way i wanted it to, my original piece had pastel colors but i went with metallics instead

i do have a smaller pixel acrylic piece finished though

---

on a semi-unrelated note, i feel like my approach to art drastically changed over the past few years. last time i seriously tried using traditional tools was during art classes in middle school, around 15 years ago. around that time i switched to digital only and to this day i still consider myself a digital artist; simply because i'm much better at it. and yet, every time i pick the stylus i just have no patience to make anything serious. (i mean, you can check my art tag and you'll see that i have been posting half assed shit as of lately) i crave traditional tools, even though i literally have no fucking idea what i'm doing.

i do like experimenting with all this though. here i have used only three color pencils (yellow, blue, and violet) + white for blending ...

... over different acrylic underpaints

---

i don't really feel comfortable posing online anymore though. not because i don't want others to see (quite the other way round) but simply because i have no idea how to process stressing over everything that has to do with social media. there are different platforms that i might try using, but there's barely any traffic. so i'm kinda left between being unnoticed in a place where nobody goes to and being unnoticed in this sterile, corporate, perfectionist environment that is prevalent on social media

ig i should go with the flow and keep scribbling stuff for myself and my circle of friends. kinda go back to my roots and explore this experience once again but as an adult lmao

#wip #acrylic painting #cicada #snail #pixel art #rouninren #ronin.txt #monstera leaf #monstera leaves

3 notes · View notes

dramarising-replacement · 2 years

Text

Gonna rant here about skin making

It's so discouraging!

No matter how much effort I put into it no one likes the stuff I make.

Fest entry? Maybe 1 user compliments it, but they compliment everyone's/99% of entries.

UMA for the shop? No one bats an eye and I'm lucky to have enough pre-orders to cover the blueprint cost :(

Discord is honestly making me feel worse! Even the skin/accent Discords make me feel ignored. I'll post and it's radio silence but as soon as a popular artist post something like "teehee, I've got a new idea in the works" everyone is all over them. Newbies will be getting advice left and right with or without asking for it yet when I was sharing my 1st wip accent for one of my own dragons and asking for advice about it I didn't get anything (or very little) mostly questioning wtf was going on with the eyes and at most users just saying "cool" in response. Yes I do think it looks awful! NO I don't blame others for not telling me I didn't need to leave the black lines + shadows on max but I do wish at least someone in one of the many servers I'm in pointed it out :/

Honestly, I have other art I do in my free time that I share and it doesn't make me feel bad at all!

The only advice I've ever received was "make what you'd want your dragons to wear"

and yeah... that's great, I do agree with that. Except that's what I've always done. Outside of the occasional meme stuff, which I spend all of 20 min making and don't really care about (in comparison to more serious accents that take me hours to put in the details and make look nice)

Guess what sells better -_-

Skins just feels like a very niche/guarded community. If you don't make silks, memes, or accents that are pretty much a painting on a dragon you're nearly out of luck unless you can get that glitchcore niche to love your designs.

I basically quit making skins in general + for fests despite all the ideas I had/have because I feel like no one cares about my ideas.

more positive note:

I'm very grateful to users who have helped me, or tried to, and those who genuinely like my skins. It just gets super frustrating to see things like scribbled MS paint styled meme skins to get more love than the things I make every time.

My art in general still brings me joy and I know it's good- both because I personally like it (most important part of course!) & I've had users call it underrated (so ig some must like it outside of myself too).

I hope this doesn't come off as needing attention, I don't need validation every time but every now and then would be nice, ya know?

I found the skin making groups very cliquey and overall dislike the experiences I had with them & hope others who may want to enter don't face the same experience.

#Drama #Rant #Flight Rising #Long post #Petty

24 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

azrette

yellowfeverbreeder

Asian Breeding

lellonbvfc

Untitled

likemynotesplease

Untitled

marciotute

Sem título