#... i might. i might have a new wip.

[crowkip]

slides u some timkon wip scribbs

[rozhliena]

mc x mammon

you construct intricate rituals in order to touch the skin of the avatar of greed, ambiguous season but i would venture it's still during s1 of the original game, mostly just palavering about the gaze nothing actually occurs

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.

"Don't you get eyestrain?" you ask Mammon, tilting your head as you sink back into the pillows on your bed. "With the sunglasses." It isn't bright in your room, the lights set just shy of their dimmest mode as you get ready to go to bed, and neither is his D.D.D.'s brightness set high. But he wears them all the time anyway, even in the evening. "Or are your eyes just sensitive?"

From where he's leaning at the side of your bed, frantically tapping some blinking lights on his D.D.D., Mammon shakes his head. "Nah, my eyes are fine," he says. "I just like the look of 'em."

A fair, if somewhat odd, assessment. You can't say you dislike the look, either, which has grown as familiar as the sight of him in your room — you're actually not sure why he's here today. It just seems like a given, some routine you've fallen into. There are two toothbrushes in the bathroom connecting to the bedroom, and there is a hamper in the corner for clothes that aren't yours, though they never seem to make it into the basket without your help, and the extra hangers in your wardrobe have lately been put into use more often than not. It's not exactly normal, you know that, but it comes so naturally.

"Are you gambling on mobile games again?" you ask, reaching over to pluck the sunglasses off his face, wondering if you should feel amusement or concern at the fact that he hadn't reacted to the motion at all. But maybe that's natural to him, too. You look at the orange-tinted lenses curiously. "You probably shouldn't, you know."

"I'm gonna win this one, serious, y'know, statistically and shit — "

When you put the sunglasses on, they're slightly large on your face, and they really aren't special aside from being from a Devildom designer brand that sounds suspiciously similar to the human world's Gucci. A typical pair of polarized sunglasses. You sigh, pulling them off. You lean over to place them back on Mammon's face, slightly askew. "Still losing?" You know he is; he's already out of in-game currency. Sure enough, the lights on the animated slot machine go red.

"Hey! You jinxed me!" he complains, adjusting the crooked sunglasses as the plaintive whine of a loser's trombone plays from his phone's speakers, but he turns off the game and stretches across your bed. His eyes peek out above the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, toward you. Like he's expecting something. You wonder if he's even aware of the way he looks at you sometimes, so intently it seems to go right through to the back of your neck.

"What's up," you say.

His gaze shifts, lands on the second hamper in the room, half-filled with his clothes by someone who isn't him. He's thanked you for it before, but you wonder what he actually thinks about the entire thing. "I dunno. Just lookin'." At this angle, you can only make out the blue in his eyes.

You sit up. "Are demon eyes different from human eyes? Like, in terms of biology."

Mammon looks at you, a little incredulously, and then laughs. "Man, how the hell would I know that? I ain't a nerd like Satan."

You shrug, moving so you're facing him properly. "I don't know. But can I check?"

He grimaces, but he's already folding up his sunglasses and hooking them into the collar of his shirt. "Like, you're not gonna poke 'em or anything, right? Would you even know the difference between, y'know, human and demon eyes?"

"Maybe. I don't know." When you moved just now, your hand brushed against his, where below the knuckles is the faded smudge of a stamp he'd had to get at one of Beel's games. Identical to one on your own hand. The game itself hadn't been particularly intriguing, and what you remember more than anything else is that it had been cold that day. You and he had to huddle up together beneath a blanket, and Mammon's bony elbows poked into your ribs to such an extent that you wondered if it wasn't less comfortable in the blanket than outside of it. But when he turned to you, smiling sheepishly, looking at you the way he does, warmth bloomed in your chest and you couldn't even feel the ache over it.

Mammon looks at you the way he does and shrugs. "Whatever. All yours."

There's no way to make this seem normal, you know that. When you take his face in your hands you don't think too much about how easily his face fits against your palms as you angle his head toward the light. His cheeks are warm. He doesn't resist at all. "Don't close your eyes so I can look at your pupils."

It's not an order, but Mammon goes along with it anyway, though his eyes tremble a little, avoiding your gaze, when you lean in to inspect.

When the light hits them, the pupils constrict like they would in any other eye. Whenever Mammon looks over his sunglasses, his eyes are like the bright blue sky of the human world above a sea of sand, but up this close, they're entirely normal. The same pupils, irises, sclerae. Tear ducts. The delicate blood vessels along the white of the eye. Eyelashes, to keep out debris. It's almost disappointing. The only distinction anyone could make between his eyes and those of a human's is that his irises are unnaturally vivid and possess two colors, but even then, there are some humans with those same traits.

"I can't tell the difference," you admit. "They look like any other set of eyes."

The set in question flicks to yours, narrowing slightly. "Hey, just 'cause I'm being generous doesn't mean you can go lumpin' me in with everyone else." He reaches up, his hand finding purchase at one of your wrists like he's going to wrench you away from him, but he just keeps it there. "I'm the Great Mammon, y'know?" The warmth bleeds into your skin.

"I know that," you say softly, still not thinking. "Hey, close your eyes." Again, it's not an order, no force behind the words, but again Mammon obliges. His eyelashes are so light they're almost transparent. You brush the pad of your thumb over the thin skin of the eyelid, over the light oily sheen there. His closed eyes quiver beneath your touch.

"Does eyeshadow give you trouble?" you ask. "Because of your eyelids."

"Lil bit," he says. "When I do gigs I gotta prime 'em and carry those blotting things. But hey, I always end up lookin' good, yeah?" His mouth turns up in a contagious grin.

"You do." It comes out of your mouth so easily. His cheeks go warm at the admission, but he doesn't say anything this time. He's letting you feel around his eyes like it's nothing, and you think, maybe there isn't any real difference between demons and humans, after all. Eyes or otherwise. You let your fingers trace along his face to under the chin, angling his head upward. During the game, you had reached down to one of his arms and squeezed, not because it accomplished anything for heat, but because it was instinctual, like scratching an itch, or like blinking.

Your faces are so close. Kissing Mammon would be so simple — twist of the wrist, tilt of the head. You'd land his lips in one try; it would come naturally, and his mouth would be soft and warm. You wonder if he would let you kiss him.

Mammon's eyes flutter open. His grasp on your wrist tightens slightly. You can feel his breath on your face. Your own breath catches in your throat. "What're you doing?" he whispers.

"Just looking," you whisper back. He doesn't let go.

[bashzzey]

Some recent aggie arts!

I adore nesting guide a lot.. I like to call them Nellie 👉👈 Bonus Journey, Rain World and Death's Door fanarts from same aggie session :]c

[thesummerestsolstice]

So Elrond and Elros are six when the Third Kinslaying happens, right? Given that they're half-elves, they might be "younger" than a human six-year-old, more in-line with elven development. For children that young, memories are often patchy and foggy. I certainly don't remember much from the first six years of my life. Add childhood trauma, which can distort or suppress memories, and there's a pretty good argument that Elrond and Elros might not really remember Sirion, or their parents.

And that idea... really gets to me. There's so much to explore there in terms of grief, and guilt, and the desire to live up to the legacy of someone you never even knew. There's also an asymmetry there– E&E's parents remember them. Hell, Earendil might be able to look down on them in Middle-Earth while Vingilot is in the heavens. But Elrond can never look back.

[doctorsiren]

I’m still in the process, but I’m making progress

[plutoons]

got hit with the pattypoke spore why are they like this

[mortellanarts]

Love that I have always craved...

[imjustalazycat]

Chapter 1

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[nordsea-horizons]

im working on a new tiered neighborhood build! trying to decide on which house exteriors match best🪴 i love the new codes i found, there is so much you can do bc of that brick garden path one! love it!! also can we appreciate that bea and goldie actually wear cute outfits all the time(and they match each other💛)

[trixree]

The brain worms are ON ONE tonight folks I am thinking about Cody/Maul/Obi-Wan post order 66 living on tattooine together

like what if Maul sought out Obi-Wan's Commander shortly after O66 to get obsessive freaky closure about how Obes died (feels robbed of the kill, generally mentally ill about it, etc.) and is like "he is useless to me with all this fucking Imperial programing in the way" and does Force Stuff to break Cody's chip and what if Cody Wakes Up and goes "I can use this fucked up little guy to get to my General, who I believe survived, and then I'll just kill him easy peasy and live happily ever after with my husband" so he tells Maul that Obi-Wan is probably alive, actually, and cue a really violent road trip of them retracing Obi-Wan's steps in the hours after O66 via Imperial intel and hyper competence on both of their parts and

OH NO WHAT IF THEY START TO FALL IN LOVE like the forced proximity of it all...LISTEN TO ME. the intimacy of fighting alongside someone and having a functional partnership that's turned Dependency on both of your part's because you were both Traumatized in surprisingly similar ways (raised as a tool of violence for someone else's purpose, same guy actually!) and also have a similar goal via your mutual obsession with this one guy and actually, he's not that bad for a sith/clone, and by the time they get wise to Luke's existence and gun it for Tatooine, Maul is like "if I kill Kenobi this is going to upset Cody. That is Unideal. Can i live with not killing Kenobi?" and Cody is like "I cannot kill him afterall, I like him too much, how the FUCK am I going to explain this to Obi let alone any of the mind control & sorry i tried to kill you shit"

and what if Obi-Wan kept Luke because Reasons and is just so goddamn thankful for some extra childcare help (Luke's in his terrible 2s and he's force sensitive -- Obi's more sleep deprived than he ever was during the clone wars) that he really doesn't give a shit at all that it's his ex that tried to kill him for some mystery reason and motherfucking Maul on his doorstep. help is help 🙏 and they bang and stuff of course okay I'm only human

[nikuttek]

i did some practice sketches and ended up quite liking these two!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Can you guys watch them i need to frolick in traffic

[accio-bagel]

Day 30: What is your MC's costume?

Went through a few iterations of this, trying out a flat/comic kinda style, but I’m not sure how I feel about it and may revisit some time and add shading. Anyway here Shego 💚🖤

[taintedcigs]

feel like i have a trauma bond with this fandom + tumblr. LIKE i try to leave but i can never quit fully. I JUST CANT.

[tj-crochets]

Today’s enrichment for my enclosure was a new giant whale shark plushie pattern! I got all the machine sewing done, I just need to add the stuffing and close the opening for turning tomorrow

[cubbihue]

mngrghghrghghghgearhgh

brainstormgmmingn... making varied fairies are hardd