"You know this feeling? When you're alone, but also not, cuz you know you got some people that care 'bout you somewhere? What did Cecil call it... Zweisamkeit?" (main blog: @caori-azarath)
Very quick little thing cuz I haven’t uploaded shit in ages.
I’ve been very busy, I passed all my finals but then there was holidays and my birthday so rly not much time to post stuff here. I’ll try to be posting more regularly if possible now that I’m past all that.
I also wanted to say thank you to you guys. My economical situation isn’t the best but through commissions I have been able to sustain me and my family in moments of crisis, and thanks to that money I managed to buy a notebook for uni and a tablet to keep drawing.
I hope you’re having a good start on this new year 💛
tried making Mars too? i tried doing textures for his burn scars and used the smudge tool a lot for that one lol. also the website doesnt let me give him long hair hhhhhhhh
doesnt look super good but its alright
(made with artbreeder then touched up in photoshop)
used artbreeder to compose a portrait of my OC Oliver, then touched it up in photoshop
im no artist so the touches are kinda obvious but ey, i kinda like it!
It was a pretty beautiful morning, all things considered. Clear skies with only a few funny-shaped clouds, following a starry night with only a few creeps to beat into the ground. Usual stuff.
Granted, his current predicament was an… unexpected development. Ending up in a total stranger’s house, bleeding all over his very comfy and expensive-looking couch, in his very expensive-looking living room, in his VERY big and expensive-looking house-
I mean shit, could it even be called a house? This place was gigantic! Like, Wayne Manor levels of classy. With a hint of creepy, what with all the covered mirrors. Seriously, what was up with those?
“I called for help. No, it’s not an ambulance or the police, I heard you just fine the first time.”
Ollie closed his mouth, the words dying on his tongue. He pouted at the taller man’s stern inflexion and let out a pained huff, but he stayed put. C’mon Ollie, don’t be a brat- the guy’s helping. Surprisingly.
On top of the sharp pain in his side and arm, and the dizziness from the blood loss, Ollie was majorly confused by the man’s… well, everything. First off, he wasn’t sure if he had been his eyes playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn the man’s face had been bare when he’d fallen into his garden. Then he’d blinked, and then it wasn’t. Now, the man before him -tall, very tall, and gangly as all hell- was sporting a curious, sleek black cat mask, and possibly the biggest fucking pair of glasses Oliver had ever seen someone wear in real life. Perfectly round, rimless and red-tinted for some reason, they prevented him from making out the color of the guy’s eyes.
His unimpressed, irritated glare could have been a little intimidating...if the guy wasn’t wearing a tacky hawaiian shirt with colorful birds on it. Ollie wasn’t sure what his deal was, but from his long, messy brown hair, unkept beard and questionable fashion sense, it all gave off the impression that Bird-lover here hadn’t stepped out of his house for a really long time.
Ollie had asked about the mask, but the man had just tensed and stayed silent. That had been Ollie’s cue to stop asking personal questions- which was, y’know, fair, as he’d literally just interrupted his morning stroll by crashing through his ceiling, offering no explanation as to why that had happened.
Come to think of it… yeah, the guy had every reason and then some to call the cops. But he hadn’t. Not yet at least. So really, Ollie was doing great so far.
The moment the young dyed-haired man had made eye contact with the stranger after his fall, he’d frantically asked, if not begged him not to call anyone. Well… that was actually the second thing he’d said, the first being asking the guy to please stop screaming at me, I don’t even understand- is that french?
He’d gotten away with a lot of things, for a very long time. He wasn’t about to get busted for one little mistake. It was just a stab wound! He’d survived those before. And while yes , he might’ve gotten a bit lost on his way back, taking a few wrong turns whenever the pain in his side made his vision go white and his grip on his grappling hook loosen, and then before he knew it the sun was rising and he had no idea where he was anymore and then he misfired and then became acquainted with the glass ceiling of a greenhouse...
“-hear me? Hello? Hey, ça va ?”
Oliver blinked- Mask-guy was kneeling on the carpet next to the couch and snapping his fingers in front of Ollie’s face, now looking more panicked than annoyed. Aw, beans. He’d lost his trail of thought. Also, he was pretty sure he’d been sitting before. When had he laid down? Ugh… his side was pulsing. And his head was all foggy.
“You blacked out,” Kitty Carnaval said, and that’s when Ollie noticed his palms were covered in red. “I stopped the bleeding, but it still needs to be cleaned. Probably stitched.”
The vigilante looked down at himself- his hoodie was gone, his shirt creeping up his chest to uncover his abdomen. A thick patch of gauze had been applied against his wound, tight wrappings around his middle keeping it secure.
Huh. It looked pretty decent- better that what he would’ve managed on his own. His chest felt a bit constricted, he’d probably breathe a little easier if he took his binder off… but he wasn’t too excited at the prospect of doing that in front of a total stranger. So he took it in stride. “Wh… where’s my…”
The man pointed to a clear plastic bag next to the coffee table a few feet from the couch- his trusty red hoodie was visibly bundled inside. Still very much soaked with blood and with one more stabby-hole than how he liked it. But hey- that’s why he wore red. And he could fix the tear. It’d be fine… probably. “Um. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Really, don’t ,” the stranger grumbled, getting up and walking out of the room. Ollie craned his neck, curious, but quickly settled back down when quiet splashing sounds assured him that the man was just washing his hands.
Okay. Things are fine. Everything’s hunky-dory. “So uh. You been to France?” he said lightly in an attempt at smalltalk, remembering the words -probably swears given the context- the man had thrown at him earlier.
“Born there.” the other’s even voice responded curtly over the water-y sounds.
The vigilante let out an excited oh . “...Can youuuu say something else in french?”
“No. Help’s coming any minute to really assess the damage, so please don’t move. And talk less.”
Sheesh. Well, at least that had to mean that this mysterious helper was a doctor, or at least something similar.
“Who’d that be? Friend of yours?”
“Something like that. He won’t ask… too many questions.”
So a doctor-ish person with questionable ethics. This was getting weirder and weirder… but also, really exciting. “Cool beans.” he sighed, trying to exhale the tension out of his body as the sound of running water soothed him somewhat.
After another minute, Gatito re-appeared from the other room, with spotless hands and wet sleeves. “Do you have a way to get home safely?”
Oliver blinked. He hadn’t even thought about that- he usually dragged himself home after a scuffle, but that probably wasn’t smart given the pain still flaring in his side. “Uh, yeah. I can call my roommate so she can pick me up.”
Oh dio, Nana was going to kick his ass into the sun for pulling that stunt. He felt bad for putting her through that, but he knew she’d kick his ass even harder if he hid this from her.
“Good. We’ll patch you up properly, and if you don’t need further assistance, you’ll leave.”
Mh. He seemed real eager to see him go… even for someone having to deal with an unwanted guest. He was jittery, biting on his nails and fiddling with strands of his hair, like he was getting more nervous every minute Oliver spent on his property.
Weird. Maybe he was just a misanthrope? That would certainly explain the grumpy hermit vibes.
Still didn’t explain the mask though… “Fine, fine, promise I’ll get out of your hair soon. Sorry for bleeding out on your couch, by the way.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can replace it.”
Ah. That easy, huh? How loaded was that guy? “Okay then, Mr Wayne ,“ the young man chuckled then immediately winced- ow, ow, right, stab wound, okay. He looked back up at the other, who only blinked in apparent confusion.
“That’s… not my name?”
“You sure? The bigass manor, the mask, all the mystery ,” he wiggled his fingers around, “You kinda fit the part.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ollie rolled his eyes. “Fiiine, keep your secrets then. Can you at least tell me your name? Feels weird calling you like, ‘mask man’ and ‘cat boy’ in my head.”
The stranger went silent once again, a conflicted expression on his face. Like he was being forced to choose between eating a particularly sour lemon, and pouring the juice of said lemon into his eyes. Almost a full minute passed before he opened his mouth again.
“...Mars.” he finally offered, averting his gaze. “If you really have to know.”
Mars expected confusion. Skepticism. Maybe even mocking laughter. But instead, the young spitfire flashed him a million-watt smile. “That’s an awesome name. I’m Ollie.”
The young man awoke sluggishly, the wooden ceiling of his living room slowly coming into focus above him. He groaned in discomfort, his clothes and long, dark brown hair damp, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and neck to fall on the couch under him.
The air was too warm, the kind of humid, heavy heat that made you want to crawl into a freezer and stay there for a few hours. Mars shifted, turning to lay on his side, the crick in his neck from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in the day before making him wince- he hated summer.
From the way orange light shone through the living room window, it couldn’t have been later than seven in the morning. Yet it already felt so warm and stuffy, like a mischievous giant had trapped the property under a glass dome.
When had he fallen asleep? What had he been doing? He could barely muster the energy to remember.
The young man usually prided himself on his strict daily routine, but there were times where he just… gave up on it. Waking up one day feeling like nothing he’d do really mattered, and that he’d rather just stay in bed until the sun went away. Those times could last from just a few days to entire weeks.
Now was one of those times- waking and sleeping at the oddest hours, staying prone on his bed or the living room couch as the light shifted and his stomach protested... He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent in that foggy state, the days always started to blend together after the first two or three.
When had been the last time he’d done anything? Other than the usual pattern of wake-bathe-eat-read-eat-read some more-tend to the garden-eat-bathe-sleep?
It felt like years. It probably had. He was getting sick of reading the same books over and over again. So tired...
He blinked- the garden. The heat. The greenhouse had an automated watering system, but…
He struggled to push himself up, groaning as his bones cracked. He set his feet on the carpet under the couch and stood up, his tall frame looming and swaying. “Wow,” he mumbled as his head spun and his knees almost buckled, blood slowly flowing up to his brain again- his stomach growled and ached. Okay. Maybe… maybe he’d eat something later today. There were still crackers in the pantry, right...? Not now. Greenhouse. Have to check on them...
Oh stars, how long had it been? He’d never left them unattended for so long, and in the middle of a heat wave- he felt guilt and anxiousness claw at his chest as he half-stumbled down the corridor leading to the back entrance, walking by mirrors covered by thin white sheets.
***
Early morning light bathed the greenhouse in a warm orange glow, the sounds of sprinklers working away mixing with the chirps and caws of the various birds that called this place home.
Mars strutted down the garden, passing through the rows of colorful flowers and lush green plants- four, five- ah, here’s the one with the chipped beak… visiting ravens and crows, robins, a lone cockatiel he suspected must’ve escaped from somewhere the month before… all seemed calm and healthy, despite the intense heat. Now for the latest residents.
He reached the end of the glasshouse and entered a little fenced-off area, breathing out a sigh of relief as he watched three young parakeets play around a sprinkler, pecking and flapping at the water flying out of the jet.
Looked like everyone was accounted for.
The biggest one -Blue, as Mars had called him in a burst of nonexistent inspiration- tilted his head as the human closed the entrance behind him and approached, spreading his spotted, dark grey wings to jump and fly up, landing on a shoulder. He then proceeded to nibble on a lock of brown hair that had fallen out of Mars’ messy bun. “Hey- ow! Okay, okay-” the human chuckled, gently pushing the offending beak away from his face and guiltily eyeing the almost empty food dispenser hanging from the wall. “I know, I know… Haven’t been the best caretaker lately, have I.”
The young man sighed, sitting down on the grass as Blue, Soleil and () all made themselves at home in his hair and on his shoulders. “I’ll order you guys more food today, I promise.” Actually…
He peered around- bird food wasn’t the only thing on his plate it seemed. Some of the plants had started to grow in places they weren’t supposed to, some needed serious trimming or looked droopy and dry, dead leaves were littering the pathways… Mars groaned- he’d really left the area go to the dogs, huh. He was usually very diligent about maintaining it, keeping everything neat and healthy… it made him feel like he was doing something right, and good, making all this life flourish.
Instead of damaging it. Hurting it. Destroying it.
Mars shook his head- he needed to pull himself out of that state, if only for their sake. He’d done it plenty of times before, he could do it again! This time was just... lasting a bit longer than usual. It was fine.
He gently shooed the little menaces away, getting back on his feet- there was work to be done.
***
He plopped down on the grass gracelessly and let himself fall backwards, laying in the shade- he was flushed, panting, his limbs trembling from the exertion. He let out an annoyed huff- true, he’d never been much in shape, often sickly and bedridden- but this was ridiculous. If Cecil was here he’d probably berate him for neglecting his physical activity, or something of that caliber.
The sun was higher now- most likely around ten. The heat was getting more intense, and it would only get worse from then. Well, at least he’d made good progress: the greenhouse now was free of weeds and stray leaves, plants trimmed to the best of his ability… he’d even discovered a nest full of tiny, newborn shrews somewhere in a patch of tall grass. He’d left it untouched, setting up a few reflective disks on strings to hang around it to ward off potential predators. Like Lune, the brown barred owl that sometimes paid the greenhouse a visit during the night. No baby mice for you Lune, sorry about that.
Mh. His nose scrunched distastefully- he was drenched in sweat, in clothes he’d been wearing for several days if he wasn’t mistaken, and the smell wouldn't get any better with time. He brought a hand to his face to wipe his brow and upper lip, reflexively cringing when his fingers brushed against the uneven skin around his eyes. Maybe he’d take a shower after ordering the bird’s food. Maybe the cool water would wash this sticky, heavy fatigue away. Maybe-
A loud crash snapped him out of his thoughts. He yelped in startled surprise, sitting up in a panic as the one of the glass panels above him exploded, glass flying everywhere and in his direction.
Mars curled in on himself, teeth clenched and eyes coming alight- violet lines flared on the skin around his eyes, strands of hair floating up and swaying as if submerged in water. Everything seemed to slow down ; glass shards glimmered in the sun, now unmoving. Something red- a figure? It was screaming, why was it screaming- came into view, coming closer and closer to the ground- and then the scream was cut off abruptly when the figure landed with a dull thump, right in his poinsettias.
Then suddenly, silence. Heavy, so thick you could’ve cut the air with a knife. The constant chatter of the birds, gone. The glass shards, previously frozen in midair, now scattered in the grass.
And there, in the middle of a perfect circle of untouched ground, Mars slowly let the situation dawn on him.
The young man stood up shakily, the scarred skin on his face now free of glowing lines. His gaze set on the red-clad figure laying a few meters away, he took a few hesitant steps forward then stopped right in his tracks, dumbfounded. That… was most definitely a person.
A person. A person. He hadn’t seen another human being in so long, let alone interacted with one in any meaningful way- Cecil didn’t count, the doc barely emoted anything beyond mild annoyance and disappointment.
Why was there a person here? Why had they crashed through his room and what was he even supposed to do or say in a situation like this, what if they were dead and he now had a dead body in his home and then the police would get involved and oh god he was hyperventilating-
The person groaned, hissing in obvious pain before opening their eyes, blinking dazedly. Then their head rolled to the side, and frightened, slitted golden eyes met a pair of dark green confused ones.
By peeling paint, I’m a sunken ceiling,
I’m cracking up, and can seem threatening.
I’m falling apart.
I’m scary at night.
Take dark, forbidden: keep out, keep out! No, no, no go forth.
A has-been, a once was, the leftovers, an eyesore, bleeding, oxidising,
A few remaining, unloved, emotionally damaged, a waste of space,
A nuisance, I haven’t had time to become, unwanted!
What’s gone? I’m losing it
This is not what I stand for
This is not what I stand for
This is not what I stand for
aster’s a strange one- but that comes with the “not-human” package. sometimes aggressive, loud, reckless and way too self-destructive for the others’ peace of mind. sometimes lethargic, level-headed, even kind of wise in a way?
when he’s not being an insufferable lil’ shit, he likes to lay in patches of sunlight like a lizard. the human realm’s sun is very different from his native realm’s- his vessel doesn’t depend on the light anymore, but he likes how warm it feels nonetheless.
he doesn’t miss his decaying home a bit- it was cold, sterile, ruthless and doomed from the start. but sometimes, he longs for something familiar. and hey, at least he gets his wings back… kind of.
in conclusion i love he-
(art by @plantonspace ! thanks bud, he looks so good!)
By peeling paint, I'm a sunken ceiling,
I'm cracking up, and can seem threatening.
I'm falling apart.
I'm scary at night.
Take dark, forbidden: keep out, keep out! No, no, no go forth.
A has-been, a once was, the leftovers, an eyesore, bleeding, oxidising,
A few remaining, unloved, emotionally damaged, a waste of space,
A nuisance, I haven't had time to become, unwanted!
What's gone? I'm losing it
This is not what I stand for
This is not what I stand for
This is not what I stand for
aster’s a strange one- but that comes with the “not-human” package. sometimes aggressive, loud, reckless and way too self-destructive for the others’ peace of mind. sometimes lethargic, level-headed, even kind of wise in a way?
when he’s not being an insufferable lil’ shit, he likes to lay in patches of sunlight like a lizard. the human realm’s sun is very different from his native realm’s- his vessel doesn’t depend on the light anymore, but he likes how warm it feels nonetheless.
he doesn’t miss his decaying home a bit- it was cold, sterile, ruthless and doomed from the start. but sometimes, he longs for something familiar. and hey, at least he gets his wings back... kind of.
in conclusion i love he-
(art by @plantonspace ! thanks bud, he looks so good!)
Ollie pointed at the walls, tilting his head curiously at the white sheets thrown over each of the gold-rimmed mirrors. He didn’t notice how the taller man had frozen at the query. “Kinda feels like a haunted house,” he chuckled lightly, “or a vampire’s. And not the sparkly kind.”
Glass shards. Fire.
“Uh. Hey Marsie? Why’re you-”
“Don’t,” the mask-wearing man seethed, turning back towards Oliver to glare down at him. “Why do you keep coming back here, huh? Is being an annoyance that fun to you?”
A look of hurt flashed through the small male’s green eyes, before he felt the immediate heat of anger rise up to his throat. “The hell? I’m trying to repay you for helping me!”
“Well you don’t need to! I never asked you to, and I don’t want your pity.”
“Who the fuck talked about pity here? I just thought you seemed cool and I wanted to hang out! You know, like people do?!”
He glowered, the urge to hit something rapidly growing. “Dios,” he spat, clenching his fists at his sides. “You’re such an asshole. No wonder you’re alone.”
That’s when Ollie realized, a little too late, that he’d crossed a line.
Mangled. Dangerous. F R E A K
The look on Mars’ face was haunting. Like he’d just watched him slaughter his loved ones… if he had any, that was. “Va-t-en,” he spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Shit. Ollie didn’t speak a lick of french, but he knew he’d fucked up. “I- I’m sorry, that wasn’t-”
There was a loud crack, and the window next to them shattered. Mars loomed over him, his hair bristling like an owl puffing up its feathers. His normally calm, slightly hooded eyes were open wide than Ollie thought was possible, a bright violet light overtaking his golden irises and creeping down his cheeks in merciless ley lines. “Get. Out.”
And ultimately I believe we'll be okay
It's so cliché to say these things, but repetition is a key
I think I'm better when I'm with you
But I worry when you're gone
I think I need to learn to love myself
I must learn to be strong
dave was a country child- sneaking away from school to jump in rivers and climb trees, playing on old traintracks and crying when his gramps killed one of the rabbits for dinner.
one time when he was little he tried to run away with his favorite bunny to save him, but he just got lost in the forest and little Dusty ran away. he got a real earful when his parents found him.
art by @familyof6art ! thank u boo, your soft and round style really fits my soft and round dad :3
Happy Birthday @caori-azarath!! I wanted to draw a little something for you, so I figured, why not revisit an old friend of ours? Updated him to suit the current designs of the moirai lads, hope you like it <3
