𝕶𝖞𝖗𝖎 𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙

P.S. Art can be a love-hate relationship, but this time, it was mostly love 😆🤗 The process was challenging with all the details and background, but the end result was so worth it! 😌 I'm totally satisfied with how it turned out! 🎨💖

(𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲)

𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗿 - 𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝘆𝗲, 𝗠𝘆 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭; 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭?

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦; 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵; 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵

𝗠𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 - 𝗠𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗠𝘆 𝗛𝘂𝘀𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦; 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦; 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦; 𝘞𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 - 𝗡𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆

𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥; 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦; 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴; 𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴; 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗻 - 𝗕𝗮𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗕𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯; 𝘐 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸

𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵; 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦; 𝘓𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵

𝗔𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘂𝘀 - 𝗕𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗖𝗶𝘁𝘆

𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦; 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴; 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘺

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺; 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦

𝗕𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘇𝗲𝗯𝘂𝗯 - 𝗜 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹

𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵; 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦

𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥; 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥; 𝘛𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦; 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱; 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥; 𝘚𝘰 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦; 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦

𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿 - 𝗙𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝘀 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶; 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴

Word count: 930 Description: Being the leader of an entire realm is no easy feat, especially when you’re not like rulers past. Inspired/based on Lesson 9 in Obey Me: Nightbringer, so beware of spoilers. Can also be found on AO3 here. 

“When it comes down to it, you don’t accept us either, do you Diavolo?” 

The Demon Prince isn’t sure what stings more – the alcohol making its way down his throat, or Lucifer’s sharp words from their earlier confrontation. 

He sits alone now, the chill of the night settling in his bones despite the flames of the fireplace mere steps away. He watches how the flickering light passes through his glass, turning his current poison of choice to a fiery amber. A slight tilt of his hand and the slightly viscous fluid reminds him of honey, but the only taste left on his tongue is bitter. 

Old Yharnam