Functionaldisaster - Mostly Confused

Eyo, wouldn't being picked up by the hood kinda choke?

Also your skills just keep improving, nice subtle shading.

Human [exists]

Death: Carryable little beast, aren't you?

Get scruffed idiot.

Could you maybe do a GN!reader with Death (pre relationship) where reader calls him Deathy and the others are surprised he lets them get away with it?

Author's note: This plays into one of my favorite tropes; Gruff old man lets you get away with things no one else can.

Relationships: Death/Gn!Reader (platonic and/or pre-relationship)

Warnings: None

"It might be a bit more comfy on Ruin,"

Strife speaks up and catches you attention, pointing to the Red Rider's massive warsteed with a thumb. Holding onto the saddlehorn of Despair’s tack you look in Ruin’s direction, pondering while Fury watches this interaction with a small amount of amusement. It's better than staring at the trees, for sure.

War, realizing he's suddenly the center focus of three sets of eyes, looks up confused and glances around, but doesn't actually say anything.

"Ya know, with the bigger saddle and all."

Not as if Despair is a small horse by any means, but you wouldn't mind riding on Ruin, if only just for a bit of fun. But before you have the chance to even ask War if he'd let you join him, Death shoots the prospect down with a stern glare in all of your general directions.

Instead of heeding that very obvious warning however, Strife saunters right through it with the nonchalance of a Nephilim who’s done it a million times before.

"Then how 'bout you join me?"

Strife does a little jerk of his head and his shoulders push back just a bit to give him better posture, while he acts as if inviting you to the cool kids table at school. Death however, fed up with having his thinking interrupted as he stares out past the steep overlook and scouts their next move, turns and scowls at Strife with Despair's reins still tightly wound in his right hand.

"Will you stop?"

As if Strife would actually heed Death's warning, he looks over at you, while Fury and War rest on their own horses behind you both. You stay sitting on Despair simply because of the effort required to get on and off the giant horse, and Death considers you safe there. The horse is an extension of himself in a way, and he trusts the steed to keep you safe even if you’re only a meter away. It also helps that it limits your ability to wander off and get into trouble, as you've proven far too curious for your own good multiple times.

"Aww come on, you're really gonna listen to him?"

Death turns at you and give you one look in response to Strife's whine. You have no real desire to go against his wishes just to upset him, even though you know he'd let you ride with one of them anyways. Despair is more than fine, you have no real want to swap horses. You look towards the gunslinger and shake your head in refusal.

"Whatever Deathy wants." Your voice is singsongy and smile sickeningly, saccharine sweet, and you can't help but look down at Death the moment the words leave your mouth.

His glare isn't just sharp, It's hell fire; It would've boiled you alive if you were affected by it.

Instead of calling you out on it however he simply sighs, before looking away from the overlook.

"Let's go."

Death lets go of Despair's reins for a moment as he rounds the shoulder of the horse, but quickly gets stopped by Strife's guffaw. He extends out one arm, pointing at you with an armored finger.

"Woah woah woah; You're just gonna let that slide?" He moves his finger between the two of you, to further point out.

Strife is so clearly smirking behind the mask by the way his eyes and pushed upwards, leaning against Mayhem with arms crossed as if the horse is a wall. Upon hearing Strife call speak up Death bristles, knowing he'd been caught red handed giving you such blatant leniency.

He can even hear Fury snicker, which makes his lips purse tighter together behind his mask. Thank the Creator he wears the ugly thing, he thinks.

That was supposed to be reserved for when no one else is around, but of course he slips up at the worst possible moment.

"It was a momentary lapse in judgement-" Strife scoffs, and you try to snuff a laugh behind your palm. The Reaper turns and points upward at you.

"One more word out of you and I slap this horse's hindquarters and send you straight into whatever realm he wishes to visit."

When you roll your eyes Death grasps the front lip of the saddle, putting a boot in the stirrup and leaning the saddle to one side when he hefts himself up. Once he settles in the saddle behind you he doesn't say a single word, but you can feel his irritation from a league away.

He can feel your contentment as well, watching the scenery pass by as you sit unawares of just how much you'd pointed out his habitual favoritism.

How to draw?

here, take these links

The Complete Famous Artists Course

Collection of Art Books and Resources

A little more progress on attic dragon.

Darksiders 3 - Fury