eisdrach3e

[eisdrach3e]

Hiii, I dunno if you still need them but Spoilers ahead for anyone reading this, involving all sessions (L1-L80) + Nightbringer (and the Devilgrams: "Raphael's Welcome", "Errands for Michael")

Facts about Michael:

-likes the stars

-is able to track people when they 'timetravel' (s3 when MC entered the CR in a dream)

-> probably has a link to the Ring of Light or knows where it's situated (like a tracker)

-seems to be in a similar position like Diavolo where he is always holed up in the CR, that's why Raphael brings him so many souvenirs and he buys a lot of food in mass, (in a Devilgram he asks Raphael to send him a photo of the city/landscape)

-adding to the Devilgram, there is an option where you can send a photo with Raphael, Simeon and MC and when doing so Michael is really happy about it and gives a lot of praise

-probably strong morals given his position and the influence he has on Luke, connection he has to Luke

-It's said he is like a twin to Lucifer but also the polar opposite (appereance? wise) (s3) <- when you ask Satan to describe Michael to you

-still loves the brothers even after they fell, and seems to be very giddy about them in general

-seems like a shut in (Raphael's dialog in s4 when you call him Michael "I don't apperciate being mistaken for that socially inept weirdo", Nightbringer when Simeon says that Raphael complains that Michael doesn't seen to get enough excerise)

-excessive whims or expects a lot? (s3 when Raphael remodeled a whole room for the Planetarium for him, because Michael wanted it)

-he is fond of souvenirs even before the Brothers fell (in the Memory M SSR card with Lucifer and Raphael, they say that he had a shocked face when he realised he forgot to bring souvenirs or food)

-drinks a lot of alcohol/has a good tolerance to it (the Seraphim's would always drink together)

-If he really is the voice of Light shown in the past session, if you choose the option to stab yourself, he shares he was also forced to make a hard descion and still regrets it to this day, he wonders if things could have played out different

-still misses the brothers and sometimes stares at the places where their portraits used to hang

-it seems like Michael 'banished' the brothers himself, while the brothers say they left on their own accord, so there could be a coverup happening, the devs forgot their lore, or the CR turned their story into smth else differently, either through Father or the angels themselves that fabricated it

-is the leading Angel of the Celestial Realm, means Father direct represantive, and was even the greatest angel of all time despite Lucifer also existing (but both seem to the one of the top leaders)

Could someone supply me with any and all info they have on Michael? Doesn't matter if it's just one point or a whole list. I'm currently writing an analysis (that's kinda turning into an essay at this point lmao) and I need some more info on Michael for it, but I'm busy dissecting the Japanese dialog atm

[eisdrach3e]

Sorry for the low quality art

I'll try to draw more once I'm done with my projects

[eisdrach3e]

𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 — 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔬.

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢: 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢.

——————————————————————

over the next coming days, the memory of your encounter in the woods lingered in your mind like a mist that refused to dissipate. 

questions gnawed at your mind in a constant stream of who was he? why did he help you? and was it all even real? 

you had heard of the myth of the sorcerer who dwells in the woods: of course you had. it was well-known folklore around these parts, used to keep little children from straying too far into the forest. it had oftentimes piqued your curiosity, for the myth was one shrouded in shadows and mystery, and you had tried many times to gather more information on the tale from various townsfolk, but to no avail. subsequently, or at least until now, you had been unsure what to make of the myth. it was true that the woods existed, but the presence of the so-told sorcerer who lived within them was uncertain. 

(he could have been a figment of your imagination. a lie you had convinced yourself into believing to quell your fears as you wandered the woods. but… he had felt so real. out of reach, yes, and beyond your comprehension, but how else would you have found your way out if not for him?)

you asked around the village and your patients for any further details about the story, but all anyone seemed to know was that there was a man who lived in the woods, and who must under no circumstances be trusted. 

…so why had he helped you?

curiosity still burning bright, you turned to asking one of the village elders— or, the old woman who was known to most of the townsfolk as ‘grandmother’, no matter their age. 

an old woman, she had survived through times thick and thin, sturdy as an oak and lively as a burbling brook: age had done little to dull her spirit, and there were deep laugh lines around her eyes that crinkled with every smile. her eyes themselves sparkled with the mischief of a jovial youth, and she was regarded as the town’s storyteller, often reciting tales to the little village children around a campfire than burned long into the night. if anyone knew about the details of a folk tale, it was her.

you, too, regarded her as a parental figure: it was impossible not to. after all, she was the one who had found you all those years ago wandering along the edge of the woods, stumbling about in a bleary-eyed daze, and taken you in as one of her own. 

she lived on the outskirts of the village, in a modest cottage overgrown with blossoms and ivy which crept up the uneven cobbled walls and painted pictures of vibrant colours and blooming vines. the old house itself leaned precariously to one side, and you often found yourself worrying that it may one day collapse without warning, but it seemed to have a spirit as steadfast as she did, for it had braved the hardest of storms for dozens of years. 

you walked up a winding stony path leading to the cottage, mind drifting and lost in thought. 

come to think of it, you hadn’t been to see her in a while. ever since the disease had broken out, you’d had hardly a moment’s rest to pay anyone but your patients a visit. you wondered if she was doing well.

you had arrived at the cottage. the door was old, made from wood that stood shockingly strong for its age. you could smell the warm scent of blackberry pie wafting through the open windows. you knocked on the wood.

a moment later, the door swung open to reveal a short, frail-looking old woman, her silver hair tied in a long plait behind her. she was wearing a knitted pair of oven gloves, and her sparkling blue eyes widened when they saw you. 

a beaming smile broke over her wrinkled face, and it felt as though the sun itself were shining through her features. 

“hello, grandmother,” you said sheepishly.

“oh, my child!” she gasped. “it has been so long since i last saw you!” you rubbed your neck, a guilty smile settling on your face. “come in, come in!” she ushered you eagerly inside and sat you down in a wooden chair. then she hobbled over to the kitchen, insistent on making you some tea despite your weak protests that you were not staying for long.

however, you could not help but smile at her attitude. there had never been any stopping that woman.

she soon returned with a mug of tea in her hands. she handed it over to you, and you recognised the scent as forest mint: your favourite flavour since you were a young child.

“what brings you here, then, love?” she asked, and teased, “have you finally come to pay your poor grandmother a visit?” 

“yes, i have,” you answered and took a sip of tea from your mug.

“what do you need, then, hm? any help with your studies? herbs from my garden? flowers? a new book to read? no… oh— i know.” a mischievous twinkle sparkled in her clear eyes, and she winked at you. “do you need a lover? i heard you’ve been awfully lonely recently, all cooped up in your house, and there’s this wonderful young man who works in the bakery down the street—”

“grandmother, please,” you sighed exasperatedly. the old woman laughed, and the sound was bright and cheerful.

“i’m only joking, of course. so, what is it you’re here for? anything i can provide you with is yours.” 

you waved away her generosity out of both gratitude and awkwardness. “i appreciate the kindness, but i only have a question for you.”

“a question? what is it, child?” the old woman smiled.

“you know the myth about that sorcerer who lives in the woods?”

she nodded. “of course i do. it’s a very good story. old, too. but why do you need to know about such a tale? it’s only to keep the little ones from wandering too far.”

you shrugged. “i know, but… do you happen to know any details about the story? or the sorcerer in particular?”

the old woman frowned as she considered the question. “what kind of details are you looking for?”

“i’m not sure… anything about him, i suppose: his origins, personality, details about his appearance… where he came from, and such.”

the old woman sighed. “i’m afraid there isn’t very much to say: it is only a fairy story, after all. the sorcerer is of course fictional, and many of the details of the original telling story have likely been lost to time. it isn’t as if there is a real figure to base the rumours on.”

you looked down in defeat. “so… you really don’t know anything?”

the old woman sighed. “there are… some things. i usually leave these details out for the sake of the young ones, and i do not know why you wish to know them, but i will tell you them if you’re this insistent.”

your eyes lit up. “really?”

the old woman nodded. however, now her face was solemn, and a dark shadow passed over her eyes. she stared at her hands as she spoke and did not meet your eyes. you had never seen her this serious.

“this sorcerer… he is a heartless, cold figure whose heart has long grown over with thorns and darkness. the story goes that he practiced the magic arts, but not the ones that you did, which help and save lives— rather, he practiced the dark arts: a forbidden branch of magic better left untouched. so, he must be a man of evil who cannot be trusted. he is dangerous as well, for he is said to have meddled with the affairs of life and death: even the gods could not stop him without banishing him to the darkest parts of the woods. not only this, but tales tell that anyone who comes across him is burdened by misfortune for the rest of their days.”

you swallowed, shaken by her morose tone of voice. you eventually mustered up the courage to ask, “do… does he have a name?”

the old woman raised her eyes to meet yours, and the expression in her crystal eyes was dark and grave. she said, 

“if you wish to seek him out, child, i strongly advise against it.”

a long silence passed. you felt like you were shrinking under the weight of her eyes. the smile lines around her mouth and eyes had vanished. at that moment you felt very unsettled, and very cold.

then a warm smile broke over her face again, as though the things she had told you were happy as anything. 

“but it’s only a fairytale, of course. he doesn’t exist, so you have nothing to worry about, love.”

you opened and closed your mouth but found that your speech had left you. the old woman did not seem to notice.

“enough of this talk,” she said, standing up and making her way to the kitchen. “this tale always gets me feeling a little dreary. would you like some blackberry and apple pie?”

not waiting for your response, she disappeared behind the kitchen door and walked out again with a plate carrying a slice of newly baked pie in her hands. the inside was a deep purple, and the smell of blackberries and apple rose into the air. you could not help yourself even if you had wanted to.

after you had cleared your plate, you thanked the old woman and made to leave.

as you walked out of the door, she called,

“my love, do you believe in fairytales?”

you had to hesitate for a long time before you answered. when you did, it was in a quiet mumble, unable to meet her eyes.

“…i don’t know.”

[eisdrach3e]

✧  𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝐁 | Baiser ─ Mondstadt Masculine édition

­ 

DEMANDE | Anonyme - bonsoir lykaya ! je n'ai jamais fait de demande donc j'espère que ce sera pas trop mal. déjà j'adore ton écriture elle me fait sourire et aussi incroyable que ça soit tu m'as fais apprécier certains personnages dont je ne suis pas fan. merci d'avoir créer ce recueil ^^ je me demandais si tu pouvais écrire dans l'alphabet fluffy le b pour tous les hommes de mondstad (je sais pas si j'ai fais une faute). ils sont six je crois. merci d'avance et je continuerai de lire tes ff ! bon courage <3

LETTRE | B comme Baiser ­ ­ ­ ─­ ­ ­ ­ Comment embrassent-t-ils ? Le font-ils souvent ? En public ? Où aiment-ils les faire particulièrement ? Ont-ils une signification ?

INTERÊT | Venti, Kaeya, Diluc, Razor, Bennett & Albedo

GENRE | Fem!Reader | Crush réciproque | Baiser à gogo

WARNING | C'est ma vision des choses, et non la vérité vraie véritable ( D'ailleurs si vous avez vous aussi un point de vue, I take it ).

NOTE | Bonsoir. Nombre de fois où le mot : “lèvres” est écrit là-dedans : 46. Nombre de fois où le mot : “baiser” est écrit : 35. Je pense que c'est représentatif de la claque de douceur que vous allez vous prendre. Je vomis des arcs-en-ciel depuis deux jours. Tout ça pour dire que : Bennett & Razor sont des adolescents - je sais que Bennett est majeur puisqu'il peut acheter du vin pour Venti, mais dans ma tête c'est toujours un baby -, donc il n'y a rien de trop passionné pour eux. Comme de coutume : Bonne Lecture !

NOMBRE DE MOTS |  4 812 mots, c'est long, je vous conseil un bon thé.

­ 

Weiterlesen

[eisdrach3e]

𝐈 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚 𝐒𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 — 𝐓𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢

◊ ft. tighnari, gn!reader

◊ genre. headcanons, fluff, tighnari being absolutely whipped

◊ synopsis. moments never seemed to still till you came along. in other words, tighnari realizing he’s falling in love with you.

- Tighnari is fond of schedules. He’s used to waking up early and completing his daily tasks. He was fond of his mundane life.

- Tighnari doesn’t dream. He used to but after growing up, he lost sight of the imaginations of his mind.

- Tighnari wasn’t prepared when you appeared. You were nothing but another student of the Akademia looking for “adventure.” You looked so naive in front of him. Yet, when you smiled, he could do nothing but accept you into his hustle and bustle of a schedule.

- Tighnari now lays awake and thinks about you. For the first time in forever, he dreams. He dreams with his eyes open and a small smile on his face.

- Tighnari didn’t like it at first. It felt like a rush of water pouring in after a flood. He couldn’t contain himself then and even now he struggles in maintaining his strict schedule around you.

- Tighnari dreams about you whilst writing up his daily journals and routine check-ups around the forest. His mind wanders to thoughts about how you would feel in his arms or how your fingers would tread lightly through his ears.

- Tighnari tries not to make it obvious when he’s in front of you. He’s lucky he was not born a dog or it might have been written all over that bothersome tail of his. Yet, he still can’t help but let an ear twitch or so in your direction when you call his name.

- Tighnari refuses to admit to himself sometimes. He doesn’t like the idea that someone so ordinary and simple could fall in love with someone like you; someone so beautiful and filled with extraordinary flaws.

- Tighnari stumbles upon himself when you greet him in the mornings. His schedule used to consist of familiar greetings from co-workers and friends with the occasional reprimand or reminder for Collei. Now, his heart quickens when you grin at him and in the place of the simple and ordinary he hears a symphony trickle in its beats.

- Tighnari scribbles on the edges of his pages now. Little by little he succumbs to your enthralling smile and courageous heart. He crumples the paper upon realizing what he’s done but he’s quick to unravel it back into a wrinkled version of itself. He stares at your name at the corner and feels his cheeks brighten and warm upon realizing how deep he’s fallen.

- Tighnari seeks out his dreams now. He breaks his schedule and knocks at your door at night to make sure you’ve eaten because archons how he knows how easy it is for you to forget to hydrate or even eat. And when you open your door and smile at him, Tighnari hears that symphony chime back up in his heart. He insists that he’s here as a mentor and friend; nothing more and nothing less.

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo @planetxiao @nonsense-corner @ireallylikehamsters @eccedentesiast-sapphic @rebeccka @the-lost-anime-dad @lettucecabbage-kun @irethepotato @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ajaxstar @plinkuro @shizunxie @kiraisastay @lilia-sspouse @straymoon96 @coquettemaiden @leweird @ash-astrophel @uchihaeirin @lemontum @willburzone @rocambolescomargot @aestellia

[eisdrach3e]

[eisdrach3e]

𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 — 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢.

𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫.

——————————————————————

you had not meant to get lost in the woods.

it was well-known in your village that the woods were dark and endless, with narrow, winding paths that twist and bend and lead nowhere but deeper inside. it was known that the breeze which was always so mellow began singing darker songs when it entered the woods, like the distant cries of some anguished ghoul as it brushed past skeletal trees and whispering leaves. shadows stalked past shadows, each one darker and more palpable than the last. 

it was also known that there were creatures in the woods. of what nature, no one could be certain, for nobody who had entered the woods had ever come out again. whether dead or simply wandering the dark labyrinth as empty souls until the end of days, there was no telling of their fates: only that they were lost to the twining branches of bone and time.

and sometimes, when the night was quiet and the moon was thin, noises could be heard coming from within the woods; low whispers and murmurs carried by the returning wind, leaving goosebumps on the backs of the necks of those who heard them. very, very rarely, the wind carried with it the gentle tinkle of wind chimes that seemed to chase the shivers away. 

the townspeople said that this noise was the presence of a dark sorcerer who lived alone in the deepest part of the woods, not to be trusted nor followed. they said he stalked the woodland with a lantern and a chime, bound to the land by a curse and fated to roam the woods forever (though what for, nobody knew; for he was as much a mystery as the woods he resided in.) children’s tales said he had hair spun from moonlight and wore a long cloak black as night, with eyes like fragments of gemstones. they said he was not quite alive, and not quite dead, and that he pulled down stars from the sky to put in his lantern; a cruel, powerful method only deserving of an equally cruel and powerful being. 

in short, neither the woods nor the man who was said to live inside them was safe.

as a result, you had always done your best to steer well clear of the woods, sticking only to the sunlit forest, where lush trees grew in abundance and birdsong filtered down from gently swaying branches. as the village healer— or what may be better known as a ‘witch’— you oftentimes came down to the forest with a woven basket in hand, picking various herbs and sprouts from the budding soil with which you would create your remedies.

sometimes, these trips required you to walk the edges of the forest; the narrow border where the forest became the woods. there were a select few plants which only grew in such conditions, on the slim edge between light and the darkness, and when you came to gather them, you always kept your eyes fixed to the floor, focused only on the plants you were to collect. only once had you glanced into the woods, and that one short moment alone had resulted in sleepless nights for days to come.

but on this day, you had not been as careful as you usually were. there was a terrible sickness breaking out in your village, and you were to gather as many herbs as possible to battle the rising numbers of those infected. there had already been two deaths, and despite the begging of the townsfolk and the time poured ceaselessly into your constant work, you had yet to find any cure; the only thing you could do was use one such precariously placed flower to slow the disease from progressing any faster. 

time was of the essence, and in your haste as you followed the trail of flowers, you failed to notice when the birdsong faded and sunlight grew dim. you only realised how the shadows were thicker and more plentiful when you raised your head to survey your surroundings and head back to the village.

the green forest you had come from was nowhere to be seen. turning in every direction, all around you only stretched an endless maze of tall, skeletal trees whose branches creaked in a warm wind that was not there. 

but besides this, it was completely silent. there was no stream burbling nearby, no birdsong, no calls of woodland creatures; only the soft creaking of wood and rustle of leaves in the absence of a breeze (although it seemed to you that the sounds of these leaves were more akin to a whisper than a rustle.)

you could also hear your own breathing, louder than anything. every breath was amplified in the suffocating silence, and every footstep on the barren, twig-laid ground seemed to crackle and crunch like stepping on brittle bones.

you swallowed. thankfully, you had brought a protection charm with you today, and mumbled a spell under your breath to activate it— though part of you wondered whether it would be of any help at all in a cursed place such as this.

next, you forced yourself to steady your shaking breaths. to lose yourself here would not make the situation any better: the best you could do was gather your courage and walk, sticking to the path as closely as you could. there must be a way out somewhere. 

the path was narrow, winding through the woods like a snake. you walked on in silence, holding your basket close. tree branches snagged at your clothing as you passed like little hands trying to pull you into the boundless sea of shadows from which you were sure you would never return. 

a branch of thorns caught on your cloak. you tried to free your clothing from them, but they refused, only digging their pinprick claws further into the fabric. you pulled harder still, but to no avail. with no other choice, you ripped off the caught section of your cloak, and the thorns retreated back into the shadows, as if pleased with their new gift.

the deeper you got into the woods, the more you felt like you were being watched. you could feel countless pairs of eyes on the back of your neck, but when you peered into the shrouds of shadows around you, the only thing staring back at you was darkness.

your breathing had begun to shake again, and you took a moment to try and calm your nerves. you were still living, and as long as that remained the case, you would find your way out of here, no matter how long it took. 

you told yourself this, but the shadows surrounding you only grew darker and more plentiful. they brushed at your legs with a velvet touch, soft and cold; palpable, and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

you passed by a tree stump you were sure you had already seen at least four times before. had you been retracing your steps all this time, or was the woods itself reshaping around you like a moving maze, ensnaring you in its tree-lined walls? how long had you even been here? it could as easily have even five minutes as two days, and the harder you tried to think about it, the more uncertain you became. 

the leaves rustled, as if in glee at your rising panic. perhaps this was how the woods caught its prey— waited until its victim grew weary and disoriented and gave into the panic, and then struck. you did not know what this ‘strike’ would entail, and hoped that you would never find out. 

but keeping yourself calm was growing more difficult. say it had been two days that you’d been gone; what was happening to the village? how many people were still left alive? did they think you had abandoned them? 

and was it just your imagination, or had you just seen a shadow, black as the darkest ink, move closer to you?

it was then that you saw a cold blue light coming from somewhere between the trees, and a clear tinkle of what sounded like wind chimes. the shadow trailing you scurried away. you hesitated for a moment; this light was scaring the shadows away. should you follow it, then? was it wise to abandon the path for some unknown light source? it could a trap, a lure; the woods’ way of preparing to pounce.

either way, your chances of safety were no higher if you stayed here. taking a leap of faith into the depths of the woods, you trailed after the light.

it moved at a slow, steady pace, and so it was not difficult to catch up. when you got closer, you realised that it was not simply any light, but a lantern. and this lantern was being held by somebody, too. 

he walked in front of you, and so you could not see his face. he wore a large black cloak, dark as night, and a chime around his ankle that clinked gently with as he walked (though it seemed to resemble a shackle, if you looked closely.) 

it was then that the folktale of the sorcerer who lives in the woods surfaced in your mind, and you swallowed. 

as you walked, the lantern seemed to cut through the darkness, and the shadows once brushing against your legs shrank away, pressing themselves into their nooks and crannies until they were the blackest of black and not daring to come close; only watching you pass by with wary, wary eyes.

you wondered, is that a star he has trapped in his lantern?

the one before you said not a word as you traversed the woodland, and you not a word in return. he did not seem to show any intentions of harming you, but by this point, you could not be sure. 

where was he going? you thought. was he simply going to walk on forever and ever, or lead you to his home, or even deeper into the woods? was it wise to trust him, much less follow him?

as you pondered these thoughts, you once again failed to notice the change in your surroundings. golden sunlight began to pierce through the shadows, and the foliage slowly became greener and lush, until you found yourself in an open forest clearing. birdsong floated through the air, and soft grass and moss coated the ground. not far off, you could hear the burble of a stream.

you blinked, glancing around in confusion. you were… safe. out of the woods. had he… led you here? 

you looked around. the man was nowhere to be seen, and though you strained your ears, you could not hear any chimes. had he truly led you here to safety, or had you dreamed the whole thing up? 

the sun hung in the centre of the sky: midday. so, if you had been the woods at all, it was only for a couple of hours. considering this, it seemed all the more likely that you had simply fallen asleep as a result of your exhaustion over the recent days. 

you absentmindedly reached down towards your cloak. the strip of fabric you had torn off earlier was not there; rather, there was a patch of emptiness, and a ripped edge where it should have been.

…so, this had all been real? or had you indeed been lost in the woods, and the man was a figment of your imagination?

unsure what to believe, you decided to leave a flower on a nearby rock before you left the clearing and headed back for the village.

just in case he was real, you thought. i’ll leave this as a thank you. just in case.

for though you did not know who he was, and never did catch a glimpse of his face, you did know that without his aid— if you can call it such a thing— you would not have survived the night. 

or, no, perhaps you would have survived. that thought, however, made you shudder, and brought you no comfort; there were worse things to be found than death in these parts of the woods.

——————————————————————

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰:

i’ve taken a few phrases from my previous posts about this au, and left some others out, so if you haven’t already, i’d recommend that you also read them to get a bit more context and a stronger feeling of this au as a whole, and what to except from it in the future.

[eisdrach3e]

[eisdrach3e]

Mc: I lost my knife

Lucifer: for everyone in the Devildom that's a good thing

[eisdrach3e]

Another one

[eisdrach3e]

Heartslabyul Dorm Kitchen in Pixel Form!

This one was very hard due to all the little details. I even had to learn some new skills to accomplish my goals in an easier and more efficient way. (Tinted glass is so much easier to achieve with an opacity filter!!) But I love how it turned out. There’s a lot of little details I missed or that couldn’t translate well, but I’m so proud of how well I did. Here’s the photo I used for reference:

After my journey with pixel art for this kitchen, I’ve deduced that Trey truly emulates the mad hatter because only someone truly mad could use this kitchen as frequently as he does.

[eisdrach3e]

yanfeiii

[eisdrach3e]

on the lake

[eisdrach3e]

Facts about Solomon (with proof)

-Spoiler for Lesson 3,4, 36

in Lesson 3-17 there is an option to ask Solomon about advice which leads in Lesson 4-1 that MC pulls out an ring shaped out of a single wing.

Despite it beeing an extrem limited edition, it was sold in Volume 1 in rare formats.

Solomon went out of his way to lend MC a very rare item eventhough they didn't know each other more than a week or two in order to help them. He could have refused and redirected them to Simeon, but he helped MC in his own effective way.

once Solomon starts his research he tends to be so engrossed in it that he blocks out voices and simpley nods along.

One example would be:

In Lesson 35 Solomon mentions that the Reaper dropped by when he was cooking. They ate together and it kickstarted the Reaper's grudge against him.

[eisdrach3e]

when you walk through the fields, what do you feel?

the calls of your people echo behind you, and you are quick to answer, but deep down, your heart still aches. these feelings originated once your loved ones left you behind.

you've watched how their wings were stripped away and their halos lost their glow, yet they've always had each other through it all. that would remain, even when they finally took their leave.

you know you cannot follow.

after all, your duty is to Him.

even as you work, you wonder what they think of you after many years had passed. you wonder if they will even remember you — and if they do, what version of you do they remember? could it be the one that leans down and stitches up their ripped clothing after they've exhausted themselves, the one who sings lullabies that are so soft that it gathers a crowd of birds, the one who would grant them a rare smile more often than not?

or would it be the one that desires nothing but harsh and severe punishment once the shining spear is in your hands, the one that spills apparent venom from your lips once a single flaw appears before your eyes, the one that radiates a burning aura that rivals that of the strongest demon below you?

you know what the answer is,

and you know you cannot change that.

you still miss the cries of their happiness as they run through the hallways, the quiet moments you share with them underneath the endless sky, the frustration you would feel once you've noticed that they've missed important deadlines. you still miss how their eyes would light up once a gift has been brought to them, how their smiles would spread across their face once a certain presence enters the room, how their laughter would echo with so much radiance that it touches even your own heart.

however, that does not matter anymore.

what matters more is that they are all happy and safe, even if it is without your watchful eye. you've accepted that long ago by now.

after all, your duty is to Him.

it is Him and Him alone.

the fields remind you where you are as they brush against your skin softly. you can still hear the calls of your people behind you. you only wish they were part of it.

[eisdrach3e]

Facts about Luke (with proof)

-Spoiler warning about Lesson 5, 23, 44

He is in fact youngest in the cast of immortals, his human age would be around 10 from what the Devs confirmed (that means Satan is older than him)

The confusion about Luke's birth given different lines throughout the main story.

Lesson 5-14

"Back then, Lucifer was the strongest and most beautfiul of all the angels. He had six pure white wings, and light radiated from them"

"But back then, I admired Lucifer even more than Michael"

Lesson 23-7

"If Michael were here, I'm sure he'd tell you all sorts of stories about what Lucifer was like as an angel"

MC: Luke can just tell me instead.

"Me?! I've only heard rumors about what he was like as an angel!"

"And considering what he's like now, everything I've heard about him seems unthinkable. So even if I told you, you'd never believe me!"

Lesson 44-10

"Anyway MC are you close to any of the other angels? If you are we could just take you to their place."

"Ooh, good idea. Yeah"

MC: Can you take me to Luke?

"Luke? Who's that?"

"Asmo, you know any Luke?"

"Uh-uh. Never heard of him"

Given those lines it's evident that Luke was created AFTER the Celestial War. The Devs have a tendenciy to forget details of lore be it in Devilgrams or mainstory.

It is safe to say that he meet the brothers for the first time at the exchange programm.

(If he really knew Lucifer before he wouldn't have to retreat back to rumors to speak about his angel self)

He dislikes tomatos

Luke used his own wish for everyone

It reflects well on how he really cares about the people around him. And despite his claims to despise demons he often shows worry for them and a want to help them.

[eisdrach3e]

normally I try to space posts out better, but these went a lot faster than I expected, so…here’s some pompoms! nice and easy after the struggle that was Jamil. :’)