#Ashe seraphim

[pixelpayaso]

🌊❄️🔥

[fallen-ash19]

OKAY, HERE WE GO YALL

i wish tumblr would allow more than 12 options, but WHATEVER!

if your favorite character isn’t up there, tag ‘em! comment them! MAKE IT KNOWN!

have fun, you little sinners 🫶💕

[opttwoodrow]

Atomic Dustbowl Pilgrims.

Sculpted by Knucklebones Miniatures.

Painted by me.

For use in Inquisitor, Necromunda, Stargrave, Dark Heresy, etc.

Many questions surround the ghostly warriors that stand vigil over the nuclear dunes.

How do they survive the radiation? Who is the Off Worlder leading them? Are they allies of the Red Sorcerer? Why are they gathering in numbers never seen before?

Most folk simply turn away and lock their doors. What they dont know can't hurt them, right?

[yandereunsolved]

" you're my lover, my protector, my favorite sin. " — Yandere Endverse Castiel w/ an angel darling

cw(s): yandere themes, light nsfw (sexual innuendos & non-descript intimacy), dubious consent

ʚɞ

🪽 It's no secret that the both of you share a sacred bond. Over many millennia, your brothers and sisters have whispered such things. No one has seen God since creation, an unspoken truth that can lead to losing an etheral being's life. Yet, you have heard others say that God destined that the both of you would fall in love. An action that is more forbidden than Eve and Adam taking a bite of the apple.

You were never fond of your 'siblings'. That word felt so human. It disgusted you. You were not related to them in any way but God, as all other creatures were. You held no loyalties to those who you served above in station and those you helped below.

The only being that stayed constant throughout creation was Castiel. Your Castiel.

When the seals began breaking, you stood by and allowed it to happen, as was fated. You fought with those in your garrison to protect heaven from the demonic onslaught. Somewhere within it all, you lost your Castiel.

He was assigned to save a soul from hell. Thousands of angels went with him; less than a hundred returned with their grace intact. You searched and finally rejoiced when he returned, albeit different than before. He avoided you as if you were one of the same creatures that he had to kill. You knew he was reprimanded and sent back to Earth.

That's the last you saw of him. You were told by your superiors that he was stripped of his wings and then killed. You nearly contemplated becoming one of them. Never had you felt such human emotions.

🪽 The apocalypse. Michael was supposed to possess the human Castiel saved. Only that human refused to do the one job he was made for! Then Lucifer came and slaughtered the ethereal beings in heaven, from lowly Cherubs to the mighty Seraphim. A handful survived.

You should have felt something. You were subjected to serve under Lucifer. A holy, loyal angel would have fought until their death. You just realized Lucifer had a point. All of this was so meaningless. There is no beauty to humanity, only hatred and sin.

Castiel, one of the last times you saw him, told you how precious God's favorite creations were. How foolish of you to believe him. If it weren't for his weakness, then he'd still be here. You both could have had something.

🪽 Instead, you're Lucifer's right hand. It is quite the job. You have to tolerate his quirks. Like when he makes flirtatious comments and tries, yet horribly fails, at making you pliant. You hold great respect for him. You just wonder how long he will harass you. You prefer his true visage and not the meatsuit he constantly dons.

When you aren't simply an angelic being to be admired, you work. You come to settlements bearing false gifts and then spread the Croatoan virus until all the humans croak. No one suspects a lone angel in a vessel to be their doom. On the off chance you come across a hunter—that can get a bit messy. Still nothing but more ashes in the wind to you.

You would rather do that than be subjected to Lucifer's lackeys. They are, for lack of a better word, buffoons. You would think demons were knowledgeable on the most efficient torture methods. Whoever was in charge of hell pre-Lucifer was failing, or just as much of an idiot, or both. You never really paid attention to the demonic hierarchy until now. You just follow orders.

🪽 So when Lucifer gives you another job, you think nothing more of it. Camp Chitaqua. Your boss, as funny as he is, left out the fact they had enochian warding sigils all over the camp. That coupled with devil warding and pretty much as many sigils that any one place could have. This people, or at least their leader, is no amateur.

You would have to gain explicit permission to enter the camp. That is, if they don't figure out you are an angel, work for Lucifer, and want to slaughter them all first.

You know all the happenings around the camp, outside of the warding. You find a stray, clearly intoxicated human. Jimmy Novak—no. Jimmy Novak's soul is not in this body. It can't be. C. Cas. Castiel?

"What's cookin', sweetheart? You new 'round these parts?"

Everything about him is not, was not, him. His dialog, body language, and most importantly, how human his energy is. He's smoking a blunt for angel's sake! 

So now you have an easy way to gain permission and access to Camp Chitaqua.

You are conflicted on what to do.

Lucifer. That bastard.

🪽 Cas knows it's you. It's his baby. His love. Old Castiel was never brave enough to just spit out that he'd like to take you right then and there. Get your wings all ruffled up. Your graces intertwined and all that good stuff. Now he can. Well, not the grace part because he is no longer an angel, but he's sure he could still feel your grace. You could let him feel you in all the ways one could imagine.

He wants to know where you have been, but he kind of already knows. Even his stoned brain can put two and two together. The incredibly sexy dangerous beast that works for Lucifer and wants to kill them all, as informed to him by Dean, is obviously you. He knew you had a disliking for humans, but he didn't think you'd ever go this far. It's oddly attractive. Like, yeah, you can take him out anytime you'd like.

Angel, please, don't tease him like this.

He still yearns to hear the truth from those pretty lips of yours. He wants to tease the knowledge out of you. He wants to seduce you and show you what you've been missing out on. There's all these pent-up emotions when it comes to you. He just wants to let them all out. He'd prefer if all of them were let out inside you.

🪽 Cas shows you around the place. He is hanging off you the entire time. A few jealous looks are cast your way. At least what you felt was jealousy and arousal emanating from those campgoers. You nearly vomited from how strong it was. How tight does Castiel have these people wrapped around his finger? Very tight.

It kills him inside as he acts as if he hasn't the faintest idea of who you are. You're simply a lost traveler who he let in because you were just so lost... and hot... and he didn't want to miss his self-appointed orgey session with his favorites. He invited you to join them. It broke him when he saw your response. It was so much harsher than he thought. Yeouch.

He's gonna go self-medicate while Dean harshly interrogates you. You could have gotten out of the interrogation if you joined him. Just sayin'. You wouldn't even have to participate. Cas is fine with you just watching.

🪽 After one horribly long conversation with their leader and the failure of a vessel, you are suspiciously confirmed as a new resident in their camp. The wardings still dampen your power greatly, but you're able to fly out of there and back swiftly, just not in the blink of an eye.

You report back to Lucifer while everyone is resting. The damned devil knew exactly what he was doing, sending you in there. He makes piss poor excuses and decides to cut you a deal. Camp Chitaqua? It can stay for now. Even after Lucifer wipes it off the proverbial map, that fallen angel of yours can stay alive. You just have to... do a few things for him. Everything, in fact. No more of this informal loyalty business.

He is demanding a grace pact. The both of you intertwine your angelic nature to make a deal that neither side can break, lest their grace be snuffed out.

You obey his every order.

Castiel stays safe, and Camp Chitaqua also has temporary amnesty.

You loved your Castiel. That much is true. It's just—this new one isn't your Castiel. You have to get him back somehow.

🪽 Cas doesn't want to go back to how he was. He does want you. And you, you try so hard to 'fix' him. He doesn't need to be fixed.

You go as far as to reveal your true identity, but not your workings with the devil himself.

He simply takes a hit of his bong and buries his true feelings. He can't tell you how much he has needed you... for so many years... so many. The first time he ever came to was the thought of you. So many of his 'firsts' were thinking, wishing, yearning, and praying that it was you.

You can't love that pathetic, emotionless winged dick. He isn't a winged dick anymore. He's just the second part, and boy is he good at it.

He'll play your little games if it means you'll stay by his side longer. He's petrified that you'll abandon him once you realize this is him. He is no longer a dignified Angel of the Lord. He's this.

Why can't you just love the true him?

You play this never-ending back and forth. It's the same game, altered rules.

🪽 It takes him a while to learn about your pact with the devil. When he does, he gets pissed. His love cave is messier than usual. He pulled out all his old knowledge and is flipping through the few magical books they've been able to preserve. He cancels all of his fun times. He shuts everyone out.

His sole focus is figuring out how to undo this.

How fucking dare he. He may just be a mortal... a weak body of flesh and bone that can be killed by just a cut, but that doesn't change the fact that Lucifer has you by the tips of your wings.

Who knows what that, as his older brother said, big bag of dicks is doing!?

It makes you swoon. You see your Cas-tiel again.

Lucifer is able to feel that. What happens because of that? Only you know. And some of those things will stay deeply buried in your memories for an eternity to come.

🪽 Castiel takes more risks outside of base camp because he knows you'll save him. You're his own personal guardian angel. He uses that to his advantage. He locates information and finds ways to hide certain things from you. He isn't sure if he's doing a good job, but he has to try, just one more time. After all, the apocalypse has already happened.

"I'm going to make a really bad decision."

Lucifer himself knows what that means for you.

"Please, no."

Every time you say no to his idiocy, he takes that as a yes. You don't exactly mind it. You haven't seen this side of Cas before. Well—this... everything, you haven't seen before.

🪽 He relaxes back to his endverse self after a handful of months. He's made some good progress with his research. So he decided to grow bolder. Orgies! His favorite hobby.

Except this time he outs you as a divine being. He just tweaks the details a little bit. You're a sex goddess, hiding from the big bad Lucifer that wants to hurt you. He tells Dean this, and he believes it. Hey, Dean trusts Cas, and it makes a lot of sense. You're skittish and hella fuckable. Perhaps Cas can hook him up one night—if he ever gets a break from making sure everyone keeps their bits and bobs in place.

No wonder Cas's condom use has gone up quadruplefold since you appeared.

He holds elaborate sex rituals in your name and your name alone. All other gods are dead. It's time to make you a new one.

The coy fucker acts like this wasn't his plan. He just stumbled into it. He's just a silly little stoner. Your silly little stoner.

"Baby, I can feel your grace. Don't be mad—I'm just teaching others to worship you as I do." He worships you the best.

🪽 As one does, he sacrifices those he doesn't like. In secret. He takes out those infected with Croatoan virus, or so everyone thinks. He isn't sure if Dean has caught on yet. If Dean has, then he hasn't confronted Cas on it.

It stems from jealously. You are starting to help others in camp. You have never helped humans like this before. It's strange. It should be him! Only him! It's selfish, okay? He gets it. But he has known you for far longer than anyone. Only he knows how to take care of you. He is the only one who has earned your blessings.

So—someone else gets your aid? Oh, no, no, no, no, no! You are his provocative savior.

And also just a teensy eensie weensie blood ritual that could set you free from Lucifer and tie you to him. It requires a lot of blood. And unfortunately, willing or unwilling participants aren't easy to come by.

🪽 All of these human needs in him. He needs you corrupted. He's sure Lucifer has been trying this entire time. Lucifer doesn't have what you have with him.

He doesn't want you to fall, not that there really is a heaven anymore to punish you. He just needs you to be so utterly fucked out, so entirely his.

So little old you is struggling where your loyalties lie. He knows this. He can still read you, somewhat. He knows you'll choose him in the end, after the end.

You always do.

[ephie-om]

The day the brothers fell, Raphael couldn't accept it. Every day after, he thought, would be the day they saw the error of their ways and begged Father to let them come back. And in His graciousness, of course he would forgive them. But the time stretched on and on, and still there was no word of them returning. There were rumors, though, of Lucifer ingratiating himself with the Demon Prince, and that was when Raphael knew something was wrong. So he did what any angel in distress was supposed to do and went to his Father.

He bowed before the throne in a room that floated between existence and nonexistence. The floor beneath him held so long as he believed it would. He spoke no words, but he was understood all the same. Father was silent for a long time, but Raphael dared not prompt him. Finally, he heard an answer. Pray. He didn't understand, but instructions from the Father rarely made sense in the moment. He thanked him and left.

Every moment he thought about the brothers, he prayed. He knelt, bowed his head, and clasped his hands like he was taught. The other angels surely noticed, but he knew they would never question someone of his rank. So he prayed until the knees of his robes were dirty. He begged for their safe return, for the demons to release their hellish claws, for their smiling faces to be seen in the heavens again.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since he started praying. It had been a long time, made longer by the endless stains on his robes and the bruises on his knees. Even his angelic patience had begun to wear thin. He finally requested another audience with the Father.

Knelt again before the throne, the light surrounding him somehow seemed brighter than before. He asked again what the Father would have him do. He received another answer, quicker than the last time. Pray.

The fault must be with him, he thought as he left the throne room. The Father could not be wrong. He must not be trying hard enough.

So he prayed whenever he was awake. Often he knelt and prayed properly, but sometimes now he was forced to only close his eyes and appeal on their behalf. He slept fitfully, waking in a sweat. Even the constant sunlight of the Celestial Realm could not rid his mind of the nightmare that if the brothers did not return, it could be his fault. Just before he fell asleep and the moment he woke up, his bleary mind sent a wordless plea to the Lord. He prayed for white robes and for seraphim with stern faces and for lost lovers.

And still, it was not enough. He was hardly aware of the time that passed in the human world, only how it would correspond to the time in the Devildom. He wondered how they were faring, if Lucifer thought his decision had been worth it. If one of them ever saw a golden spear and thought of him.

Before he knew it, he was prostrating himself in the throne room again. The light was hurting his eyes, and he swore he was sinking into the ground. His chest heaved as he gave himself up again. Tears dripped down, from the light or his own tortured mind, he couldn't tell. Again, an answer pierced his mind. Pray.

He followed the habits of his father's chosen people. The angels watched as Raphael tore his robes, took ashes from the ever-burning braziers and heaped them on his head. One of the realm's finest soldiers, reduced to weeping across soot-stained cheeks. He shambled barefoot across the cobblestone streets with only one thought in his mind. He prayed now with more tears than words, wails sent to the sky in a heart-rending hope.

Images of the brothers filled his mind still. They were happy, just like they had always been. Until the moment they weren't. Until he had seen the steel in Lucifer's eyes as the ends of his feathers started to darken. Raphael's chest tightened, so suddenly he dropped to his knees. He felt the presence of his father descending and the breath left his lungs in a moment. His hands grasped around blindly until they found a ragged piece of torn fabric from his robes, and he quickly pulled it to his face to shield his eyes from the light.

God, the light. It consumed him, it burned him, it saw everything. A hundred years passed; time stood utterly still. His veins burst and healed instantly. The crevices of his mind were laid bare in the moment.

All at once, the hold released. His lungs swelled with air and the veil slowly slid from his face. As blood from some unknown wound dripped onto his face, the angel finally understood.

Some things just couldn't be saved.

Inspired by this gorgeous piece from @bor3dw33b ! Thank you so much for getting my creative juices flowing xx

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Breaking up the Vaggie angst with some EMILY angst:

Imagine her whole spiel of “You can call me Em, Emmy, whatever” is because she’s both friendly but also DESPERATELY lonely. She’s the joybringer of Heaven and Sera is also canonically very protective; add onto that Heaven seems to have more of a divide between seraphim and the Winners compared to Hell and its Sinners with Charlie, and I find it fascinating to think Emily is just… very lonely and so eager to connect to someone, anyone that isn’t Sera or Peter.

it's a pretty lonely looking set up tbh

the heavenly group lining the walls, the powers or such all sitting together, and then...

Emily, small and young and overshadowed but will that special many tired halo like a crown, sitting up in that high box just with Sera

she leaves that spot so quick

is it a shock or just a sign of how lonely it was up there the whole time?

her willingness to give sinners a chance and listen to people from hell, is that her just being angelic in the kindest sense of the word, or is it her not feeling a strong enough bond with her heavenly fellows to stick with and side with them on instinct?

before that, she was so eager to walk with Charlie and Vaggie. she puts her visitors from HELL between her a Sera, and im sure Sera thought of it as, you know, bracketing potential trouble makers as they left ash stains on the gleaming golden streets-

maybe for Emily though there was a touch of wanting to have her own friends for a change. Peers.

If she's not thinking of all hell as trash then the princess of hell would be her peer, right? And said princess's girlfriend too obviously. and she's got an official reason to stick near them in heaven, a reason Sera would approve of

Sera, who Emily is seen sitting alone with in a room at the end of ep eight, just like she was alone with Sera in that high box during the trial

Sera who wants to protect and shield her from so much

there are parts of heaven, the true use of the Exorcist, Sera will hide from her

is the rest of heaven out of reach to Emily too?

Does being such a highly place seraphim but still junior to Sera trap in this liminal space of people not casually approaching her? Are most winners and angels up in heaven always either too awed by her or wanting something that Emily awkwardly has to defer until she's asked her older sister about?

look at how empty this is. how small Emily is compared to Sera and the room they're in

Is she so busy helping Sera run heaven that she doesn't get to enjoy it on any sort of personal level? If so, does she even know that's why she's so happy to be around ANYONE who isn't under the caring thumb of heaven's hierarchy...?

I'm so glad Pentious is up there now

and so is she

She could use a friend, I think.

[89rooms]

The first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt. The second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth. He has always surprised you into surprising yourself. Because he’s an angel hiding his halo behind his back and nothing has ever felt so filthy as plucking the wings from his shoulders— undressing his softness one feather at a time. God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim, and there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands. Hands that map a communion in the cradle of your hips. Hands that kiss hymns up your sides. He confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship and,oh, you put him on his knees. When he sinks to the floor and moans like he can’t help himself, you wonder if the other angels fell so sweet. He says his prayers between your thighs and you dig your heels into the base of his spine until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue. You will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please. No damnation ever looked as cozy as this, but you fit over his hips like they were made for you.You fit, you fit, you fit. On top of him, you are an ancient god that only he remembers and he offers up his skin. And you take it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane? And once you’ve taught him how to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other, you will have forgotten every other word, except his name.

Ashe Vernon - 'Profane'

[nunalastor]

First Man!Alastor

Interesting choice on Vaggie and Charlie's part to bring Adam (the first sinner) along with them. Wonder how he even became familiar with them in the first place.

Either way, they walk through the door (to the grand hall or something), nervous and ready to present their case. And Alastor turns around to face the newcomers, only to be greeted by the idiotic face of a man that has now killed him twice.

He's in Heaven. He's a seraphim. He's definitely learned how to control his temper at this point. But seeing that stupid, mouth-breathing imbecile walk in triggers that blood lust he's kept repressed for oh so long.

For the first time in a long, long time, (or ever), Heaven's angels watch Alastor snap. His form can't keep itself together, devolving into sharp wings and blue holy fire, and he just has to know what the FUCK Adam thinks he's doing here. His usually friendly smile twists into something terrifying. It takes Charlie literally body blocking him, standing in Alastor's path and trying to deescalate, for him to gather his bearings.

How uncouth of him.

Afterwards, he gives them a proper greeting, takes them to present their case, and prays that all his glaring will somehow manage to burn Adam's soul to ash.

Adam's terrified. He's also kind of turned on-

👀

[bee-ina-boat]

heres a collection of concept art for the rest of the entities for the mythos au!! if you're wondering where the eye is, they've been drawn already!

they are all FAR from done. keep in mind these are all just my initial concepts and i plan to do in-depth design sheets as i go to explore their designs more.

IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS ON HOW TO IMPROVE THESE DESIGNS PLEASE THROW EM AT ME- MY ANON IS OPEN AND I READ TAGS I DONT CARE JUST!!!! GIMME!!!!!

(also au context: the magnus mythos is an au where the entities are all gods, similar to various religious mythology, rather than paranormal entities that feed on fear)

design thoughts for each of them under the cut

The Web - God of Fate (she/it): im pretty happy with her design atm, shes meant to be a half spider half woman thing and i love that for her. shes probably the one ive thought the most on so far given her importance to the story. i want her to wear silks and shiny silver jewelry that just sparkles like wet spiderwebs do, not sure if im gonna keep the veil?

The Dark - God of the Dark (she/he/it): probably my weakest concept at the moment. it doesnt do the dark any justice. i mean i like the cloak idea but i want them to be very tendrilly, all consuming, shadowy, but i dont know how to properly portray them :/

The Desolation - God of Destruction and Fire (they/it): i have a neat vision for them! i want them to be made of coal and ash and smoke, to be burning and glowing on the inside, and their body is decorated with melted wax to look like clothes. not quiiiiiite sure about how their melty candle dress is now? i want it to be less constrictive

The Stranger - God of the Unknown and the Whimsical (he/she/they/it): it's meant to be this. weird wirey creature hidden behind masks and a lot of fabrics, like the framework of a poseable plush doll? i like the way the masks look but im not so sure about the body.

The Vast - God of the Above (she/he/they/it): im not so sure about his design at all im gonna be real. i want them to look like the atmosphere and be covered in clouds and have mountains for feet and an ocean cape but i feel like it might be a bit?? idk??? im just not that happy with it :/

The End - God of Death and Time (they/it): ugh i love this concept sm, making death read as less scary and more divine is so fun. theyre based on a seraphim and a sand timer,

The Buried - God of the Underneath (she/he/they/it): ANOTHER OF MY FAVORITES!!!! i love them. theyre inspired by hermit crabs!! and they have silver chains holding their shell to them. they look so endearing with their lil lopsided eyes ;; <3

The Flesh - God of the Body and Meat (she/he/they/it): i have so many ideas for the flesh y'all- im very excited to do a concept sheet for them. theyre meant to have no skin, just exposed bone and muscle, large limbs, hooves, exposed heart underneath a ribcage, teeth that close around their abdomen. white bandages that wrap around like clothes. a teeth/horn crown? i dont quite know whether to go for a more animalistic look or a more human one? like- theres so many ways to go with him idek!!!

The Hunt - God of Predators and Pride (they/it): see, i like this design but i feel like its too werewolf like? yknow? thats cool!! but itreads more monster to me than God :/

The Corruption - God of Nature, Rot, and Disease (she/they/it): i love this weird bug thing. this one i was really inspired for (mostly because. corruption aligned. so obviously im gonna think about this one alot) theyre this weird bug thing, the veil is inspired by the one from the art on the wiki! i want to maybe make them a bit more gross and weird because nature is like that sometimes, a moot on tiktok suggested that i add animal bones!! and i think thats SO smart im absolutely going too

The Spiral - God of the Incomprehensible (it/its): this weirdo is so hard to pin down istg. i imagine them as this spiral thing. body is kindof liquidy, arms are spindly and long, multiple shifting faces, overall just constantly changing and moving and like!!! how am i meant to draw that??? when my brain cant even wrap my head around what its supposed to look like yknow??? bruh jrdbhgfjdldgfh- that being said i think the main problem with the design is that it just gives me too many Michael vibes!!! is it the hair? the arms? its probably both.

The Lonely - God of Solitude and the Self (they/it): i like what this one has going so far! theyve got fog hair, fog tears, their body is meant to be splotchy like turquoise marble, i vibe with it so hard. not so sure what to do with their outfit tho :/

The Slaughter - God of War (he/they/it): another one of my more stronger designs i think! centaur with weapons sticking into them, face concealed, medieval armor and antlers- it vibes

the extinction isnt drawn because i literally have no idea what they should look like aside from color palette-

once again any and all suggestions will be taken!!!! i need ideas!!! plese!!!!

[storiesoflilies]

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairing - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - General descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: Aaaaand here we go!! I’m posting this earlier than I was supposed to in honor of Toji’s birthday. Fun fact - Toji and I share the same birthday :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — Chapter 2

-•-

Chapter 1

The sky was falling ever so softly.

She’d spent so long staring upwards at it, utterly astounded, because it never occurred that way when she imagined it in her head. There was supposed to be an all-consuming deafening rumbling, chunks of blue tumbling down from above, and fiery meteors the size of moons hurling themselves into the chaos of a dying Earth.

But no, it was more like a hundred million and one glowing embers fluttering down like beautiful dying butterflies.

Is this what it’s like when Angels fall?

Y/N thought it was a more peaceful way to go; instead of a violent plummet into the dirt to trade their lives for another one as a Curse. It was a nice thought, naive even, because seraphim were not kind nor merciful to those who they deemed had turned against them. Stupid, wishful thinking, a selfish desire for the world to be anything but exactly what it is; sin was as inevitable as the sun, rising and falling with time in a terrible terrible cycle. She’d seen the streets run crimson like glimmering rubies as Angel’s wings were torn from their bones and flesh, heard their screams from afar as they begged and pleaded not to be cast out. It was always the same; Heaven is, and always would remain, divinely perfect, and it would forever be ruthless in its pursuit of maintaining it. Free will is a beautiful thing, certainly, so long as one made only the right choices.

She shook her head, cool ash flaking off her hair, and picked up her katana from where it lay beside a Curse’s corpse. Satoru Gojo had trusted her with hunting down this particularly erratic Second Layer Curse that had been capturing and torturing wounded Angels. Indeed, she could see the remnants of its latest mangled victim underneath its grotesque blubbery body; a once living soul now just an unrecognizable face beaten into a bloody feathery mess. Maybe they had once sinned, perhaps not, but what did it matter? They were just another tally to be scratched on a plaque, a life reduced to a single scratch on a stone already marred by millions of markings.

Y/N briefly considered attempting to retrieve the body for a proper burial, but it was already far too late in the day. The last rays of the sun threw a brilliant shade of red across the sky, a low hum of anticipation in the air that whispered of all the fury and violence of thunder and lightening; night would soon fall to unleash the lethal Curses that dwelled in the deepest layers of Hell. If she didn’t hurry and ascend to Heaven, then she would bear witness to the unholiest of rituals, as the Earth would crack open beneath her and the molten fire of Sukuna’s wrath would burst forth and consume her body and soul.

She kneeled in front of the Curse; its forked tongue rolling out of a toothless mouth, lidless eyes tipped backwards into its head, and blackened blood dripping from the fatal wound right through its brain. Y/N’s thumb squelched uncomfortably as she pressed it firmly into the rubbery skin of its forehead, and murmured a quick prayer for the deceased seraph, and a blaze of golden light engulfed both corpses. Gojo had taught her how to use her divine energy to smite dead Curses, just to make sure they won’t try again in his own words, and this power could also be extended to cremate their own.

The ground groaned and rumbled, as if protesting against its part to play in the cycle of violence, serving as a sinister warning for her to hurry. A wave of panic washed over her, and Y/N closed her eyes; grasping to control her lackluster wisps of divine energy, and cried out into the seemingly empty plane of the Unlimited Void.

But empty it was not, for Satoru Gojo sees and hears all within his domain.

Within an instant, she felt herself floating into and across the Void as Gojo’s essence consumed and caressed her soul; still as exhilarating and frightening as the first time she had tepidly stepped through this plane of existence. And Y/N could feel all of him, but could do nothing but helplessly travel through the cosmos of his own making. Gojo was like a turbulent ocean, ever-changing and impatient, but perplexingly beautiful; a ticking clock waiting to chime a tune of misery to signal his arrival against his enemies. Not many Angels were privy to ascending into Heaven this way, because Gojo simply didn’t want to do it for just anybody. He was like a fussy child picking only the best things to play with; his trust the ultimate game to win, and many had tried. Y/N didn’t think it was so complex, because she understood fear in a way Gojo could never, and ordinary Angels couldn’t face the fact that their souls would be bared so openly and judged by the Six Eyes himself.

Y/N blinked, and found herself in front of him.

“Cutting it a little close, eh?”

Satoru Gojo stood with his corded forearms crossed over each other, tall and broad form leaning back against an iridescent golden pole of the Gates of Heaven; a marble statue carved directly from God’s hands that demanded complete attention, a perfect vision of beauty that Y/N could never tire of looking at it. He wore a bemused smirk on his face, clearly relishing in her reliance of his power to save her from certain doom, but Y/N liked to think he didn’t completely look down on her. Perhaps she could give him the benefit of the doubt; he had been waiting for her outside the city, and maybe expected her to ascend to Heaven normally, which required an Angel to fly upwards from the Earth and pass through each of the seven layers of Heaven. Each of these layers were well defended by legions of seraphim ready to lay their lives against imminent attacks, bolstered by colossal golden gates similar to the one guarding the main city.

“But you’ve done it, right?” He continued, his eyes completely focused on her as she approached.

Gojo often asked questions he already knew the answers to, something he did with her and his other favorites; a way of settling nerves and putting them at ease around him, as if he hadn’t rooted through every crack and crevice of their minds, pretending he didn’t know them more intimately than they probably did themselves.

“It’s done.”

He hummed appreciatively, the hundreds of eyes decorating his wings blinking intermittently to give an illusion of twinkling cerulean lights, and extended his hand for her to take. Y/N accepted, refusal simply not an option, her fingers intertwining with his as he dropped the infinite barrier coating his body, and let him lead her through the Golden Gates and into the city; their kingdom far above the Earth – where no Curse had ever managed to breach. 

Heaven was a seemingly never-ending city; a labyrinth of buildings and twisting pathways built from white marble, with pearlescent towers of varying heights dotted throughout. – a perfect pristine canvas of glittering white diamonds. Many Angels would live together in each of these towers, forming extended families to be born and raised together for generations. Cool air washed through every twist and turn of the city, flowing between trees with silver leaves bearing the sweetest figs; which grew intermittently between any sliver of space between the rock, and some were even as tall as the towers themselves.

“Gojo, couldn’t you see the sky below?”

“Hmm?”

“The sky was burning before I left, it was falling.”

“Ah yes, well… that’s no surprise. Geto has become a Curse, and he is past my sight now. It makes sense the first thing he did was kill the Sky Sentries, so I suppose it’s a good thing you called for me through the Void.”

She froze, and he stopped with her.

Geto is, was, Gojo’s second in command; his most trusted confidant and closest ally. If he had fallen, then there would be many other Angels who would have willingly fallen with him. The Sky Sentries guarded the sky of the Earth, the first layer of Heaven; they stood at the frontline of the war, warriors that couldn’t afford to rest, for come nightfall it was a bloodbath of Curses attempting to breach the first barrier.

So many of us are dead. More lines on the wall.

“Gojo, I-,” Y/N paused, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry.”

At this, he released her hand and turned to face her. “Why? He made his choice.”

Gojo turned away again, staring down at the ground beneath his feet like he was seeing right through it to the Earth and scorched skies, and scoffed loudly. It was a seething sound of a betrayal that had cut him deeply, and it was a promise of violence and vengeance. Nobody escaped punishment, especially not from the Six Eyes, and Geto was certainly not above consequences.

“You know, we were all given free will. It shouldn’t surprise you, when an Angel - any Angel - falls into darkness and becomes a Curse,” he stated with finality, a sharp edge of a steel knife in his voice.

“But, Geto was our family,” Y/N breathed out shakily, her sadness starting to bubble out uncontrollably. “I didn’t know he was changing, I never noticed anything was wrong.”

“Neither did I,” Gojo whispered defeatedly, a complete change in his tone, letting slip just a sliver of his hurt for someone else to see.

Geto and Gojo were born three centuries before Y/N, and became nigh inseparable; a perfect example of how strong the bond of comradery should be between Angels. She had first met Geto when he had started training her to fight, he’d still hadn’t risen to power back then, and they quickly became close. Of course, naturally Gojo took an interest in her as Geto’s pupil, and over the next two hundred years, Y/N had witnessed them rise through the ranks of the Angels; until they reached the pinnacle of power, their combined strength looming over them all like the omnipresent presence of God in Heaven – and yet, they still kept her within their circle. But Geto was different to Gojo, because he understood that strength wasn’t a gift distributed to everyone, and Y/N had seen him fight a fraction harder just to stand on par beside Gojo on the podium of divinity. He had become her brother; a pillar of strength in her life in a way that the Six Eyes could never be, someone who she could truly say would fight to the death for her if he thought her time had come too early.

Gojo was silent for a moment before continuing, “But the sky will heal, Shoku and her followers can do it. There’s always more of us ready to take each other’s place, you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

He tenderly stroked her cheek smeared with dried Curse blood, watching as a stray tear escaped and ran down her face like a petulant child, and let out a great sigh as if it was the greatest inconvenience for him to witness her sadness. Y/N felt sheepish; how could she be so upset over a betrayer, a snake that had bitten the hand of someone who had thought it graceful and beautiful. Gojo’s great wings unfurled around them, his feathers tickling her exposed neck softly like a lover would, and his arms pulled her into an embrace.

“Im alright Satoru,” she sniffled after some time. “I just need to be alone, to clean myself and pray for him.”

“His soul is gone, you know that Y/N,” Gojo said softly, like she was a precious crystal he held in his palms, threatening to shatter at any moment.

“I don’t care, I need to put him to rest in some way, for my own peace.”

“Let me come with you then, when I return in the morning. You’re too exhausted to go and pray now.”

“Gojo, please. I need this.”

At this he let her go, his wings snapping back in place like they had been stung, and placed his hand on her head in a blessing. A soothing cool sensation spread all the way down from his palms, healing her weary bones and muscles; bathing her in the rarely tranquil ocean of his divine power, and she shuddered in both fear and relief. Some of his followers had gathered around them, eagerly awaiting their commander to follow into the ensuing battle at the First Gate; curiously glancing at the sight of the two of them, like they were forbidden art that nobody could look at for too long. She knew that he had to go; Gojo always went to battle when the last light left the Earth, even if he had already been fighting during the day. But such was the duty of the Six Eyes — always in the heat of battle, never tiring and never resting.

“Go and sleep,” he said, an order; daring her to refuse again. “I’ll see you in the morning. We can pray together then.”

“Be safe,” she whispered.

He nodded, and then vanished instantaneously, leaving Y/N alone surrounded by the watchful eyes of the other seraphim.

-•-

From light we are born, and to ashes we return. 

The beginning of a prayer uttered for those who had passed.

Who once was mighty and now fallen.

Y/N had recited these words many times over, but never once had she done so for a Curse.

Heavenly Father, may you guide our souls to peace in Paradise. 

She bathed in starlight and galaxies, and sank backwards into the bathing pool; sending her further into space, to a time and place where her brother hadn’t left her. Caked Curse blood swirled away in the holy water as she sank deeper, her eyes never closing as she stared up at the stars in the night sky.

Where we may all meet again. 

Y/N whimpered pitifully as she thought again of Geto in the depths of Hell, wondering if he was suffering as his once holy power was warped into something wicked and corrupt. Would he even look the same, would she recognize him if he materialized in front of her at this very moment; a snarling animalistic Curse like the one she had killed today. Or would he remain as he was like a blip in time, a frozen facade of happiness, but with only malice and sin left underneath it all?

To remain in your eternal light forever.

She emerged, water running down her face as her heart constricted painfully, and clasped her hands together and whispered, “Forgive him, oh please forgive him.”

What was else she supposed to do? Oh how she wished she could go back; maybe then she might have noticed if his eyes had tears of darkness in them, if he had laid there alone as the night full of terrors ushered and coaxed his soul to their side. Then she could have told herself what she was meant to do, instead of grieving for Geto like he was already dead like a ghost she would forever clutch on to; stuck reliving a trail of memories she once thought she knew most of, and now none at all. But if she looked into Gojo’s blue eyes, would she find a glimpse of the brother who lifted her on to his shoulders and raised her with dignity and kindness?

Enough, enough . 

Y/N climbed up the steps of the pool as droplets of stars cascaded down her hair, down between her thighs, and down to her feet. She wondered what sort of horrors were unfolding hundreds of thousands of leagues beneath her; if Gojo was striking down Curses with all the fury and might of a scorned lightning storm. She murmured silent prayers for the creatures who stood in his way, and for the seraphim whose lives would be lost as a consequence of Geto’s betrayal. Her feet tapped against the cool marble pathway leading from the pool to the back entrance of Gojo’s tower, and Y/N shook her wings free of any remaining water droplets that flung to her feathers. Her body was bare for all to see as she passed through the empty hallways, but she wasn’t concerned; all those who followed the Six Eyes had followed him into the night, into war. Gojo hadn’t deemed Y/N strong enough to fight during the night, and he never would; for his own selfish reasons, he was keeping her safe.

Her thoughts strayed to when he had openly embraced her in public, and knew that it would have added some truth to the rumor that they were more than just comrades. It was common for Angels that hadn’t found their soulmates to marry each other, as it unfortunately wasn’t always a guaranteed event during one’s lifetime; and of course new seraphim must be born to fight in the war. Since neither of them had found theirs as of yet, so many believed that they would eventually marry. Gojo had made numerous advances to court her over the past few decades, namely allowing her to stay within his tower, as well as hints during various conversations that he expected her to marry him when he finally did ask. Y/N knew that he was aware of her hope for her own soulmate, and that was the only reason he had graced her with his patience, but hope was dangerous in war – it was only a matter of time before he saved her from her own misery.

It would be the most practical thing to do, and Y/N truly did care for him, but was that really enough?

Satoru Gojo was an enigma. On the one hand, he was adored for his effortless displays of power as he could single-handedly decimate armies. On the other, what made him loved was also what made him feared; all he had to do was drag a seraph charged of sin into his Unlimited Void, and they would be helpless as he brutally tore through their minds in search of the truth. If found guilty, he would rip their wings from their backs himself, and then hurtle them towards Hell. Satoru Gojo was as revered as he was terrifying; like he had attained a status close to godliness. Why he had chosen her to be his, Y/N would never know; she could only accept him when he finally came calling for her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts from her head, and slipped into her bed as her wet hair soaked through the pillow.

What if Geto shows himself tonight?

Perhaps she was right to mourn him, Gojo would strike him down for what he had done. Would Geto give reasons as to why he had sinned if he could speak properly? Y/N hoped so; whatever his answer, it could steel her resolve for the hard fight ahead. But for now, she attempted to empty her head of dark thoughts in an effort to sleep. She would have to be well rested to deal with the fallout of Geto’s betrayal; many new Curses would have been born from all the anguish he had caused.

Can I really hunt those who were my allies just this morning? 

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, hands clamped over her ears, and prayed the negativity and heartache away from her dreams.

-•-

A purple aura permeated Y/N’s room when she awakened, spilling in feverishly from outside the window, and an eerie silence from the previous night lingered and settled like dust. The battle for the sky must still be ongoing if no one was home yet, which meant it was as brutal as she dreaded it to be; for Gojo must have used his Hollow Purple for forcing the sky to change color. She felt fresh fear being thrown over her like a bucket of ice, as the possibility of more of her family dying hit her instantaneously. Y/N quickly donned a fresh set of armor; it was morning now, Gojo couldnt forbid her from descending to Earth since the moon and stars had vanished from sight – she was permitted to go and fight.

Wait.

Y/N froze.

It was Gojo’s voice in her head, his authority reverberating within her mind like a great ringing bell. A strange feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach; he never communicated telepathically with her. Was he trying to keep her from harm? Why wasn’t he allowing her to descend?

I’m coming to you.

Butterflies furiously erupted in her chest, and Y/N hurried outside the tower; the purple glow of the sky growing stronger the closer she got to the entrance of the tower, like a warning nobody could possibly ignore.

The streets outside were in chaos.

Wounded seraphim were being carried by other Angels from a large swirling blue portal at the farthest end of the street from her, and were immediately being tended to by Shoko’s followers. There was an acrid smell in the air; of anguish and death, the scent of suffering from Hell itself. Y/N spied Nanami Kento holding his blunted sword close to his chest, eyes closed as if he was deep in pain but keeping it hidden, as Shoko wrapped his bloodied arms with fresh bandages.

Before Y/N could push her way towards them, the crowd imploded with feverish excitement and shouting as the portal zapped shut, and she jumped back in fright. An unmistakable white head of hair was moving through the crowd, and the seraphim were singing with glee as they parted for their champion; a god splitting the sea, and holding back the oncoming tsunami of adoration. And then, Gojo finally came into view from where she stood, an indecipherable look upon his face as his eyes roamed over every seraphim in the crowd. His gaze inevitably locked onto her, and Y/N noted a crazed spark in his eyes that made her feel uneasy. But she was frozen in place, like prey helplessly watching a predator rushing towards it, as Gojo strode towards her; broad build dripping with Curse blood as he climbed the stairs, stopping just a step below her.

And then he kneeled in front of her, and the universe went quiet.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “Gojo, what are-”

He reached behind his back, procuring two katanas in his palms to her like they were an offering, but she knew exactly where they had come from. The blades were made of pure holy silver, diamonds and pearls encrusted on the hilt — unmistakably Geto’s weapons.

“Geto lost the right to these holy weapons when he betrayed us,” Gojo said as he turned the blades over in his hands, examining them with that same indecipherable look.

“He’s dead then?” Y/N breathed out shakily.

Gojo shook his head, “No, he escaped, but all his followers have been punished.”

She sucked in a breath.

So many more dead.

“These are yours now,” he continued. “If you’ll have them.”

The Six Eyes had never once kneeled for anyone. Y/N knew what was coming, what he was about to ask of her; but how and why had he decided so suddenly that now was the time? He stared up at her with those all knowing eyes, like he was privy to her thoughts whirling in her head, and maybe he was.

Let him go.

How could she? Her heart ached for a part of her soul she had never even met — and might never. Even if she did meet her soulmate, marrying Gojo would forever bind her to him, lest she would be cast out of Heaven for the sin of forsaking her marriage vows. Would he ever be able to make her move on and forget? Did he really know just how much he was asking her for? Her heart hammered in her chest; she wasn’t ready for this, not now, and maybe not ever.

He is Satoru Gojo. If he isn’t enough for you, then who else is?

“I promise to protect you from anything that would hurt you,” Gojo vowed, his voice low for words only meant for her. “I will uphold your virtue and strength, and I promise to stand by your side no matter what happens. I promise to end the Curse of Sukuna, and create a paradise for us and our children, even if it kills me.”

Never once had Satoru Gojo ever mentioned the possibility of his death; it was unnerving, unspeakable, unnatural. His usual saccharine tone was nowhere to be found, and it was deathly quiet all around them – every soul hanging on every word they spoke with bated breath.

“I promise to love you, but please… all I ask is for you to love me and accept me for all that I am, for who I’m going to become,” Gojo whispered, and for the first time in their centuries of friendship, Y/N could see desperation deep within his irises.

She breathed out, steeling herself from the heartache and loss settling deep inside her; her defeat was imminent, but she would rise again to take her seat on the throne beside him as his equal. The world jittered in anticipation as Y/N took both of Geto’s katanas in each of her hands, her knuckles turning white as she gripped their hilts. Gojo stared at her, pupils blown wide; from adoration for her or the heat of battle, she didn’t know.

“I accept you, Satoru Gojo.”

Nothing would ever be the same again.

-•-

[seraphim-if]

As a newly created minor angel in the Celestial Realm, you find yourself caught in the middle of a brewing civil war between the traditionalist faction and the rebels. As tensions mount and battle lines are drawn, you must decide which side to join and navigate the complex politics of heaven. Will you stand with the rebels and fight for change or uphold the status quo with the traditionalists? The choices you make will determine your fate and the fate of the Celestial Realm.

Seraphim is an interactive story inspired by Christian theology.  In this story, all colors/sexualities/genders are treated equal and magic undoubtedly exists.This story will be available on pc and mobile and it’s entirely text-based. It’s currently in development and it will be released chapter by chapter.

Rating: 18 + for graphic depictions of violence and death, skippable explicit sexual content, torture & executions, and coarse language.

Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Adventure

Demo: To be Added...

Asks: Check my Guidelines

Customize your name, looks (in both angel form and human form), personality, skills, and independent gender and pronoun selection.

You will also be able to choose if you side with the traditionalist faction (with Michael/Michelle) or the rebels (with Lucifer/Lucielle).

Choose your weapon. Are you a powerhouse or do you rely more on finesse?

Select your magical specialty.

There are seven romanceable options. You can select the gender of all of them.

Michael/Michelle, The Regent

Race: Seraphim

Looks (of Human form): Dark brown skin and dark brown eyes. Black hair is slightly curly at the ends and it's cut short. Muscular and extremely tall and bulky.

Description: As the Regent, they're the official leader of the Celestial Realm; they lead the angels in God’s absence. The Regent is often described as authoritarian, prideful, responsible, hard-working, and assertive. They are also the leader of the conservative/traditionalist’s faction of Heaven.

Lucifer/Lucielle, The Morning Star

Race: Seraphim

Looks (of Human form): Waist-length, long, straight platinum blonde hair, fair skin, jade green eyes. Tall, lithe, and slender physique.

Description: They are the leader of the rebel faction of Heaven. Charming and silver-tongued, they are darkly alluring and dangerously seductive. To you, they are a mystery. To them, you are an open book. It is unwise to catch their interest, lest you succumb to their hunger.

Simeon/Simone, Regent's Right Hand

Race: Seraphim

Looks (of Human form): Dark brown wavy hair, cyan blue eyes, and dark brown skin. Tall, slender and lithe physique.

Description: Even-tempered, perceptive, and amiable, S is the most well liked and popular of the Seraphim. They're a close friend of both M and L.

Callis/Charmaine, The Innocent Ingenue

Race: Angel

Looks (in human form): Golden eyes, light brown skin, and ash blonde hair. They are muscled, short, and bulky.

Description: Gentle, kind, and easily flustered. They are your nestling and childhood friend.

Belphegor/Belle, Sloth Demon

Race: Sloth Demon

Looks: Sky blue skin, black eyes, short black hair. Black ram horns, navy blue feathered wings, and a scaly pronged tail. Short, lithe, petite physique.

Description: You were ordered to destroy them, but you failed. Ever since then, for some reason, they seemed obsessed with you. They frequent your dreams and seek to capture your heart and make you fall.

Ellis/Elaine, The Saint/Saintess

Race: Human

Looks: Wavy Sky blue hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. Short, petite. If female, a large bust and waist-length, long hair. If male, shoulder-length hair.

Description: In the Mortal World, they are hailed as the Saint/Saintess. Unfortunately, they serve a different god than your own. You are ordered to discredit them, to hinder the power of this false god, but the more you get to know them, the more you can't help admire them. They're clever, resourceful, and devoted. They're everything an angel should be.

Abaddon, Chaos-Bringer

Race: Archdemon

Looks (human form): Hetero-chromatic eyes–one blue, one purple, dark brown skin, and spiky ebony black hair.  They have a tall and slender physique.

Description: They are not the most well-liked among demons, but that doesn’t appear to bother them. They have a tendency to push buttons and bring chaos and drama wherever they go. They are charismatic and mischievous, yet biting and cynical.  Quick-witted and wickedly clever, they are more powerful than they seem and are keen to use that power to cause maximum suffering and destruction. 

[pixelpayaso]

Pigments part 2

[escapedaudios]

The complete edition of My Greasefire Life is here! This edition features a new epilogue that leads into season two, re-works of multiple episodes with some alternate dialogue, and some surprise bonus audio with previously cut footage of Ash's roommates.

Shout out to the absolutely MASSIVE cast! Featuring:

Cinnamon as Lna Rina Zaki VA as Lexi @atonalasmr as Duke Dandy Daisy4Dayz as Lynn TheGuyNotHigh as Brady @gav-va as Judge Thompson Eastgateaudio as Yoga Host Seraphim Sea Reocrds as Yoga Guest AspieVoices as Karen Cicero Says as Bouncer Jacob Katana as Erik Harry Dyer as Fickburger Cutsomer BlxssomVA as Kelsey ShortcakeASMR as Drunk Girl Stormy Audio as Barthroom Girl Re: My Darling Audio as Angela Kylo's Room ASMR as Trace SincerelyHim as Copper Atticus Jackson as 7-11 Clerk "Tricky" Ricky as Officer Mack Christ Highwell as Fickburger Manager DJ Cookie Wallace as Himself with art by @anniekinsart

[saturniasxenos]

Cyber / Virtual ID Pack

Inside this pack, you will find: Pronouns, Titles, Names, and Genders that relate to Virtuality, Cybernetic, Robots, and anything alike!

This features a LOOOONG list of pronouns and dystopian-ish names!

Pronouns:

Cy/Cyb/Cyber/Cybers/Cyberself

Vir/Virt/Virtual/Virtuals/Virtualself

Ne/Net/Network/Networks/Networkself

Ne/Net/Nets/Nets/Netself

In/Inter/Internet/Internets/Internetself

Co/Comp/Computer/Computers/Computerself

In/Inpu/Input/Inputs/Inputself

Ou/Out/Output/Outputs/Outputself

Vi/Viru/Virus/Viruses/Virusself

Anti/Antivir/Antivirus/Antiviruses/Antivirusself

Er/Erro/Error/Errors/Errorself

Sys/Syste/System/Systems/Systemself

Pro/Proce/Processor/Processors/Processorself

Di/Digi/Digital/Digitals/Digitalself

Do/Down/Download/Downloads/Downloadself

Up/Uplo/Upload/Uploads/Uploadself

Cor/Corru/Corrupt/Corrupts/Corruptself

Mal/Malwa/Malware/Malwares/Malwareself

Se/Secur/Security/Securitys/Securityself

Cry/Crypt/Crypto/Cryptos/Cryptoself

We/Web/Webs/Webs/Webself

Web/Webs/Website/Websites/Websiteself

Fu/Futu/Future/Futures/Futureself

Ro/Rob/Robot/Robots/Robotself

Rob/Robo/Robotic/Robotics/Roboticself

By/Byt/Byte/Bytes/Byteself

Fi/Fil/File/Files/Fileself

Ra/Ram/Rams/Rams/Ramself

Scr/Scre/Screen/Screens/Screenself

Te/Tech/Techs/Techs/Techself

Te/Tech/Techno/Technos/Technoself

Tec/Techno/Technology/Technologys/Technologyself

Ma/Mach/Machine/Machines/Machineself

Wi/Wir/Wire/Wires/Wireself

Na/Nan/Nano/Nanos/Nanoself

Da/Dat/Data/Datas/Dataself

Plu/Plug/Plugs/Plugs/Plugself

Ele/Elect/Electric/Electrics/Electricself

Ke/Key/Keys/Keys/Keyself

Pa/Pass/Password/Passwords/Passwordself

Ter/Term/Terminal/Terminals/Terminalself

Cy/Cybo/Cyborg/Cyborgs/Cyborgself

Ty/Typ/Type/Types/Typeself

Fi/Firm/Firmware/Firmwares/Firmwareself

Ha/Hard/Hardware/Hardwares/Hardwareself

So/Soft/Software/Softwares/Softwareself

Ha/Hack/Hacks/Hacks/Hackself

Ha/Hack/Hacker/Hackers/Hackerself

Si/Sig/Signal/Signals/Signalself

Clo/Clou/Cloud/Clouds/Cloudself

On/Onli/Online/Onlines/Onlineself

In/Insta/Install/Installs/Installself

Co/Cod/Code/Codes/Codeself

Ad/Admi/Admin/Admins/Adminself

Gra/Graph/Graphic/Graphs/Graphself

Sy/Syn/Synth/Synths/Synthself

Phi/Phis/Phish/Phishs/Phishself

Phi/Phish/Phishing/Phishings/Phishingself

Do/Dox/Doxs/Doxs/Doxself

Si/Sit/Site/Sites/Siteself

Bo/Bot/Bots/Bots/Botself

Pho/Phon/Phone/Phones/Phoneself

Key/Keyboa/Keyboard/Keyboards/Keyboardself

Mo/Mou/Mouse/Mouses/Mouseself

Chi/Chip/Chips/Chips/Chipself

Moth/Mother/Motherboard/Motherboards/Motherboardself

Co/Com/Compute/Computes/Computeself

Pi/Pira/Piracy/Piracys/Piracyself

En/Encry/Encrypt/Encrypts/Encryptself

PDA/PDAs

CPU/CPUs

URL/URLs

404/404s

📱/📱's

💻/💻's

⌨️/⌨️'s

🖥/🖥's

🖱/🖱's

💿/💿's

🎙/🎙's

Titles:

The Cyborg

(X) Whos Wired

Made of Nanotech

(X) Who Uses Nanotech

Scholar of Machines

The Cyber Security

(X) Who Has Cyber Wings

Connected Online

Offline

Unable to Connect

The Administrator

Synthesizer

The Hacker

Nanohacker

The Antivirus

Reconnecting...

ERROR: Unable to Connect

ERROR 404

ERROR: Malware Detected

Names:

Since names don't usually have "techy" meanings, I picked one's that sounded the most cybernetic, cyberpunkish, dystopian, virtualish, etc!

Fem: Althea, Ameris, Astoria, Arcadia, Astra, Beretta, Cyra, Crystal, Crosselle, Eve, Io, Jinx, Kit, Lilith, Meridian, Morrian, Nebula, Nova, Neve, Noxia, North, Octavia, Odette, Odile, Prota, Pistol, Rey, Rue, Rain, Raine, Stormy, Seraphina, Sona, Skye, Thundra, Tempest, Vega, Viva, Vinette, Venus, Xenia, Xya, Xena, Xiomara, Xenara, Xanthe, Zephyria, Zyla, Zadie, Zia,

Masc: Alaric, Aksel, Arden, Antares, Apollo, Ace, Asher, Cole, Cyrus, Code, Draven, Drift, Ender, Flynn, Hawk, Isaac, Jericho, Kip, Kai, Koios, Knox, Nox, Neo, Nero, Octavian, Orionis, Oghma, Paine, Rocket, Ray, Rai, Silas, Slader, Sebastian, Seth, Seraphim, Thalax, Theo, Thatch, Vox, Vector, Wyatt, Xyon, Xane, Xylan, Xerxes, Xayden, Xavier, Xander, Zander, Zayden, Zenith, Zev, Zale, Zane, Zaire, Zeke,

Neu: Andras, Axe, Axiom, Alloy, Allele, Ash, Arrow, Beetle, Chrom, Corvus, Dakota, Dell, Eos, Echo, Eden, Fox, Ghost, Glöckner, Hydrae, Ion, Jesper, Jett, Kursk, Lesath, Locklyn, Lyrae, Maddox, Nemo, Orca, Onyx, Oxygen, Panther, Rikko, Robin, Rune, Scorpion, Scorpius, Saturn, Sparrow, Sonar, Tore, Tauri, Techne, Techno, Ursae, Vesper, Volt, West, Wolf, Xen, Xenon, Zephyr, Zodiac, Zenon, Zeru, Zero, Zen

Genders:

Futuracityc: A gender related to futuristic cities

Futurafashic: A gender related to futuristic fashion

Futurahousic: A gender related to futuristic houses

Digigender: A digital gender. Rangeable from any digital thing or file; virus, malware, .txt, .mp3, antivirus, trojan, email, etc.

Cybergender: A gender or form of gender expression where ones gender or expression is deeply tied into Cyberpunk lore, culture, fashion or media.

CYBERWEAPONIC - a gender that feels like a digital or robotic weapon. this gender may also have ties to sentient AI used as a weapon, but not necessarily.

BIOAMOROBOTIC - a gender connected to being a robot who loves humanity and the world and finds joy all around them!

RobAnatomic - a gender under the anatomic system(link) related to robots, anatomy, robotic anatomy, the anatomy of robots, robots made to teach/study anatomy, anatomy based/related robots of some kind, the anatomy/biology of someone or something being robotic, having robotic anatomy, being a robot with an interest in anatomy and more.

Robogender - for people who’s gender identity aligns with machines/robots/androids/mechs/AIs.

Cyborwebic - a gender related to webcore, evil scientist aesthetics, artificial beings such as androids/cyborgs etc, turtleneck sweaters and old computer monitors

AI flag - this can be used for nonhuman, otherkin, gender, delusion.

Gendervirtual / Genderdigital - a gendersystem in which your gender is related to virtual ) digital themes and x , such as being a virtual ) digital x , a x who loves virtual ) digital themes , a virtual ) digital being who loves x themes , etc.

[cast-you-dxwn]

The earth quakes before them,

The heavens tremble;

The sun and moon grow dark,

And the stars diminish their brightness.

The LORD gives voice before His army,

For His camp is very great;

For strong is the One who executes His word.

For the day of the LORD is great and very terrible;

Who can endure it?

Joel 2: 10-11

The Heavens crack open. The sky shatters into pieces, Creation reflected in countless jagged fractals of the very fabric of its own reality.

The patience of the Lord has limits, and His wrath is mighty. That which has bathed nations in fire, which has filled the valleys and canyons of the earth with the dead, which has covered the lands in rushing water.

A finality in purification.

A Creation made clean.

A star falls, and the very pillars of the universe tremble with its terrible impact. Heat, pressure, and a light so terribly radiant that it threatens to eclipse the very rays of all the suns of all the realms.

Metal to slag and stone to magma, all to dust and ashes in the face of the crater that now dominates the battlefield, a destruction only seen in Creation as the humans had clumsily learned the power of splitting the atom. The very threads of reality weep and whimper, and from the largest celestial body and the smallest atom come the words that herald the final doom of all things.

Revelation.

Retribution.

Judgement.

Michael.

“Awake. Awake. Rise up, O Jerusalem.”

The words drift through the smoke and dust, and the haze parts with one swift movement, as though the very particulates are commanded to make way by the voice that drifts through them. Like the Red Sea to Moses, a corridor stands now clear between the center of the crater and its observers, with walls of dust and ashes.

“You, which hast drunk at the hand of the LORD the cup of his fury; thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling, and wrung them out.”

There stands an angel.

His armor gleaming, his robes white as snow, as though untouched utterly by the destruction that swirls about him. Dark-striped wings fully unfurled, their massive expanse touching from edge to edge the deep depression that his entrance has struck into the solid ground.

His helmeted head does little to hide the light that burns in his eyes, supernovae unto themselves, scything across the battlefield with judgement and intent of reprisal.

In his right hand rests the hilt of his blade. The Blade. That which has no name save for those given by its foes. Nay. Its victims.

Foebreaker.

Daemonsbane.

Anathema.

His left, so it seems, is empty. Raising slowly, pale and calloused fingers curling in to his palm save for one. Pointing. Accusing. Condemning. All at the three who dare to stand before him. To stand against him.

They who had once been the most beloved. Not just to their Father, no. But to himself. But what, pray tell, is love in the face of duty? How stands fondness in the face of bitter betrayal? A trajectory following of days long past, when the eldest son had been called to take into account his brother.

“O Brother of Mine. Merry in rebellion. What now, has it cost you?”

He does not look to Lucifer as he speaks. His words not only his, but of the many. Countless voices that rise up from his throat, the cries of the faithful accusing and damning, even as he takes in the two who stand at the Fallen Kings side.

“O High Women of Heaven. One so burdened by duty, as we all must be, why now have you shrugged your shoulders? Why now do you strain against the yoke? Another, light and love incarnate, such tenderness given flesh and feather. Do you not now understand the joy of destruction? The holy uplifting of a righteous cleansing?”

His lips curl bitterly, his teeth bared in anger, and he gestures widely. To the destruction that mars their home, to the blood that spatters the street. When he speaks, his words are an echo, the same as he had spoken when he had once driven his blade into an unruly siblings chest.

“What have you done?”

@high-seraphims @hells-greatestdad

[tonyspank]

STAY READY (WHAT A LIFE)

"Here in this dimension, you and I are meant to be..."

Summary:  In the year of 2075, in a futuristic world where soulmates are determined by their markings, you serve as a police officer in a high-tech city. However, there's more to your identity than meets the eye, and your superior, Hannah, has secrets to reveal.

Warnings: death, bit of angst, philosophy, rushed ending

A/N: had mixed emotions abt posting this, might delete bc idk how to feel, hope u guys enjoy

also wanted to post this bc i’ll be going in a little “writing vacay” basically not gonna be posting anything until i finish majority of my fics

In the year 2075, technology has advanced to unimaginable heights. Everything was futuristic, from self-driving cars and flying drones to holographic displays and virtual reality. There were some parts that still remained untouched by technology: the lower-class side of the city.

The side you passed to get home from work, was a stark contrast to the high-tech world that existed just a few blocks away. Brick buildings a few years away from crumbling away, littered streets, and dimly lit alleyways were the norm in the forgotten part of town.

The lower-class side of the city seemed frozen in time, trapped in an era that had long been left behind.

You felt similar, feeling as if you were frozen in time. Or even as if time had been in a loop, every day is the same, repeating the same routine over and over again. You had joined the police force when you turned 19.

You can't remember anything before that; it felt as if your childhood life was a blur. You had always wondered about your past, but there were no answers to be found.

There were barely any crimes due to the fact that cameras were everywhere, along with drones that could identify you in less than a second. The constant surveillance made it nearly impossible for anyone to get away with anything.

You still found a way to rank up, taking on additional responsibilities and becoming a respected member of the force. Your dedication and hard work did not go unnoticed, and you were eventually promoted to a leadership position within the police force.

"Y/LN." You raise your eyebrow, twisting your chair around toward the familiar voice. Standing in the doorway is your higher-up, Hannah, the Chief of Police. She has a stern expression on her face, waiting for you to address her.

You quickly stand up, walking over to her to see what the matter is. Hannah always had a stern expression on her face, even when she was in a good mood.

But this time, it felt different.

Hannah motions for you to follow her, leading you down the hallway towards the conference room. You follow behind Hannah with ease, dodging and weaving between the mix of androids and human officers bustling about the police station.

Entering the conference room, Hannah slaps the folder against the desk, causing a loud thud that echoes in the room. Her eyes bore into yours as she starts explaining the details of a confidential mission having to deal with the president and his late daughter.

"The sons of bitches actually made the serum..." Hannah mutters, taking a photo out of the folder and sliding it across the table towards you. The photo reveals a vial filled with a glowing blue liquid, labeled "Project Seraphim."

Project Seraphim, a top-secret government initiative, was aimed at resurrecting the president's daughter, who had tragically passed away. Ashely Redfield, the president's daughter and a young girl who never got to experience the fullness of life, was the inspiration behind Project Seraphim. The serum was meant to bring her back to life, offering a glimmer of hope to her grieving father.

"...years ago." Hannah finishes, clenching her jaw. "Dr. Murphy finished Project Seraphim and never informed anyone about its success. He kept it hidden, for what reason? I don't know. All I know is that you need to find him and get the serum. This came directly from the president, and you're the only one I trust to carry out this mission."

You eye the file on the desk, which contains all the information about Project Seraphim and Dr. Murphy's whereabouts. With a nod of your head, you agree, "Understood."

-

It was nighttime when you left the station, rain falling from the dark sky, the only thing lighting up the city being the neon signs and holograms flickering in the distance.

For the first time in years, you felt...overwhelmed. The weight of the mission and the responsibility entrusted to you by the president seemed to bear down on your shoulders. You continued to stroll through the rain-soaked streets, rolling up your sleeve slightly, revealing the mark on your forearm.

The mark was a symbol to show you had a soulmate out there. Your soulmate was supposed to have the same marking as your own, connecting the two of you in a deep and unbreakable bond.

It had always been a source of comfort and hope, knowing that somewhere in this vast city, your soulmate was waiting for you.

You run your hand over your marking, feeling the raised texture and tracing the intricate design. The feeling was soothing, even more so than the raindrops cascading down your skin, which seemed to echo the rhythm of your heartbeat, as if nature itself were in tune with the anticipation in your chest.

With a deep and long sigh, you cover up your marking, carrying on with your walk home.

Your routine has been broken. A figure stood at the edge of the bridge, which separated the two halves of your town. The figure's silhouette was illuminated by the dim streetlights, casting a shadow on the bridge's worn-out wooden planks.

You furrowed your eyebrows, breaking the cycle, and walking toward the figure, who seemed to not care about the rain that fell on them. Only a few feet away, you stood beside the now-revealed woman, who stared ahead, watching the small ripples forming in the river below.

She was gorgeous; more than gorgeous, she was enchanting, captivating even in the gloomy night. Her eyes held a hint of sadness, reflecting the weight of her thoughts. You couldn't help but be drawn to her mysterious aura, wondering what had brought her to this desolate bridge on such a rainy night.

Her lips began to curve in a small smile, and you had nearly missed the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. She turns to you, smiling softly, her eyes pouring into yours—eye contact that felt both intimate and unsettling. It was as if she could see right through you, unraveling the depths of your soul with just a glance.

You found yourself captivated by her gaze, unable to break free from the magnetic pull of her eyes. Then you heard her for the first time, your heartbeat racing more than it ever has before. Was this healthy?

"The rain can be quite therapeutic, wouldn't you agree?" Her voice was like a gentle melody, soothing yet mysterious. You feel the raindrops on your skin, cooling and cleansing, as if washing away the weight of the world. It's as if her words have a magical power, bringing a sense of calm and clarity to your troubled mind.

"Yes, it is," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your eyes away from her. The way she spoke and the way she looked at you made you feel like she could understand every hidden part of your being. She gives you another smile before turning her attention back to the river. "I'm Jenna if you were wondering."

"Y/N."

"I like watching the rain hit the water—seeing the ripples in the water as each raindrop creates its own unique pattern." Your eyes don't drift away from the woman, watching her side profile as she gazes out at the rain-soaked scenery.

"Even watching the raindrops that hit the dock is mesmerizing," she adds. "There are more than 200,000 raindrops that fall a minute, yet each one has its own individual impact on the world around us. People take rain for granted, complaining about how it ruins their plans or makes them wet, but they fail to appreciate the beauty and significance of each raindrop."

She continues, "Rain is essential for life, nourishing plants and hell even replenishing our water sources. It's a reminder of nature's power and the interconnectedness of all living things."

She turns back toward you, her eyes flickering with a sense of wonder. "Don't you kind of think we're like raindrops? Each of us may seem small and insignificant on our own, but together we have the power to create a ripple effect and make a difference in the world." She smiles as you stare at her, confused and intrigued by her analogy.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get too philosophical there. It's just something I've been thinking about lately. But hey, maybe it's something worth pondering, right?" She chuckles, breaking the momentary silence between you two.

You break into a smile. "No, don't apologize. I actually love that analogy. It's a beautiful way to look at things." Jenna's smile increases, her eyes lighting up with appreciation. "I'm glad you think so," she replies.

"Sometimes, it's easy to feel like our actions don't matter in the grand scheme of things. But if we can believe that even the smallest acts of kindness or positive change can create a ripple effect, then maybe we can find the motivation to keep making a difference. Like you taking the time out of your night to listen to me," she whispers the last part, breaking the eye contact she's been holding and looking down at her hands.

You open your mouth to speak, but you're cut off by the angelic voice. "Thank you; it was really nice talking to you, but I have to go now."

Jenna walks away in a hurry, leaving you standing on the wooden bridge alone, feeling a mixture of confusion and gratitude. You watch her disappear into the distance, wondering what impact your conversation had on her.

-

It's been days since your mission and days since your conversation with Jenna. You find yourself replaying the conversation in your mind, trying to decipher any hidden meaning behind her words. The memory of her angelic voice and the intensity of the moment still linger, leaving you with a sense of longing to know if she's okay.

A knock is heard at your door, interrupting your thoughts. John, a fellow officer in your field, hands you a file with a frown on his face. "Homicide," he says, scratching his beard. "We've got a new case, and it's a messy one. I thought you should take a look."

You quickly skim through the file while John briefs you on the details. "A young girl in her 20s was found dead three days ago, but there's no sign of a fight nor any obvious cause of death. We have her body in the laboratory for further examination, but so far, the autopsy results have been inconclusive. It's like she just... died. No witnesses, no suspects, nothing. Her names—"

Jenna?

"—Jenna." Your heart drops, flipping back and forth between shock and disbelief. Jenna. The same Jenna you met on the bridge that night, and the same Jenna that is supposedly your soulmate.

The marking on her back is the same as the marking on your arm. You feel a chill run down your spine as you realize you met your soulmate that night. Only once you find out do you realize that she is now gone forever.

What could have happened to Jenna, and why did fate bring you together only to tear you apart so suddenly?

"Y/LN? You alright?" John mutters, snapping you out of your thoughts. You eye the officer, still lost in your own world.

No, you weren't going to let the only person who brought you happiness after such a long time slip away without a fight.

Without a word, you jump up from your chair, pushing past your co-workers and rushing out of the office. You were going to use that serum on Jenna, not the president's daughter.

You burst through the doors of the laboratory, Hannah standing there with a puzzled expression on her face. "Y/LN, what's going on?" she asks, you were the last person she expected to see bursting into the lab.

Ignoring her question, you turn to a worker at the lab and urgently ask, "Where is Jenna Ortega's body? I need to see her immediately." The worker looks taken aback by your sudden request but quickly directs you to the morgue.

You remember the room number, then return back to Hannah, bumping past her and into the room she had just exited, the serum had been held here until the president was able to make his way down to your city, fortunately, he had been too busy to visit the lab earlier.

The four-digit code that you set and remember with ease is punched into the safe, unlocking with a loud beep. You grab the blue serum, turning around, only to be met with a gun pointed at your face. The person holding the gun is none other than Hannah; her expression cold and determined.

"Damnit, Y/LN. Don't make me do this," she mumbles, taking the safety off her gun. "Who told you about Jenna, huh?" You freeze, your mind racing to figure out how Hannah found out about Jenna.

"You knew? You knew Jenna was my soulmate?" Your voice trembles as you try to comprehend the situation. Hannah pauses for a moment, her grip on the gun tightening. "I've known for a while now," she admits. "There's some things you don't understand. You have an old soul, and I like that about you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You grit, confusion, and anger bubbling up inside you. Hannah's eyes narrow, a flicker of sadness crossing her face.

"You're not human, Y/N. You're something more, something special. You were created by SynthoTech, a company that specializes in advanced artificial intelligence and genetic engineering. They designed you to possess enhanced abilities and a unique consciousness, and it was either to terminate you or let you work for the government.

You're unlike any other Android that's been created before. Your thoughts and emotions are not just programmed responses but rather a genuine experiences. You have the capacity to feel joy, love, and even pain.

It's both a gift and a burden as you navigate a world that may not fully understand or accept you. I don't know why Jenna was your soulmate; I really don't get it, but we couldn't let you get off your program. So I had to eliminate her."

Hannah lets out a sigh. "Fucking hell, Y/N. Just set down the serum and let's figure out a way to keep you safe. No one has to know about this, okay? I can reset your program--"

"No!" You interrupt, "I'm not going to let you erase my memories and reset me like some kind of...fuck...no. You killed Jenna, and now you want to erase her from my existence too? This is so fucked up."

"The world is a fucked up place, Y/LN. What do expect to happen if you inject Jenna with that serum? You think the president is gonna let an android and human have a happily ever after with the cure that was made for his daughter?"

You shake your head, anger and frustration coursing through you. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be part of some twisted experiment or to be caught in the middle of political agendas. Jenna deserved better than this, and so do I."

"And so did Ashely; Jenna got to live her life, but Ashely was robbed of that opportunity." You take a step closer to Hannah, your eyebrows furrowed together tightly.

"Do you fucking hear yourself? You also robbed Jenna of the opportunity to live her life. You killed her for something she couldn't control! You're a hypocrite."

Hannah's face pales as your words sink in. She takes a step back, her eyes filled with guilt and remorse. The weight of her actions finally dawns on her, leaving her speechless and unable to defend herself.

Hannah lowers her gun and says, "Hurry." You hesitate for a moment, conflicted by the sudden change in Hannah's demeanor. "What?"

"Hurry up before I change my mind," Hannah says, her voice trembling. "I don't want to be responsible for any more pain and suffering."

Taking your chance, you run out of the room and toward Jenna with the serum in your hand.

You unlock the door to the morgue and step inside, the cold air hitting you as you scan the room for Jenna Ortega's body. She lies on a stainless steel table, pale and lifeless. You rush to her side, praying that it's not too late. Injecting the serum into your soulmate, you watch anxiously as her body stirs and color returns to her cheeks.

You whisper words of encouragement, urging Jenna to fight for her life.

Relief washes over you as Jenna's eyes flutter open, and she takes a deep breath. "Y/N," she whispers weakly, her voice barely audible. You hold her hand tightly, grateful that you were able to save her from the brink of death.

You roll up your sleeve, revealing the marking on your forearm, silently explaining that you're her soulmate. Jenna's gaze shifts to your forearm, her eyes widening with recognition as she traces her finger over the marking.