#I love you ferryman

[darie-vox]

He tells me things that must be true,

Like there’s a world where I can take flight,

where I can freely move

The lirycs from here^

Also a singular closeup bc tumblr will eat at the resolution </3

[a-ferryman-a-day]

draw a ferryman doing sick tricks with a skateboard it'd be peak

Day 21 - holy shit it is peak

[4natri]

You are Dear to me :)

[decamarks]

the prettiest 2d girl in town... has become THREE DIMENSIONAL (P.S. you can download this model + some extras here!)

[spineless-lobster]

I have so much respect for charon’s business model if I beat the store’s manager in 1x1 combat after stealing I think I SHOULD get a loyalty card

[cherubchoirs]

Michael, the Ruined Prince

Michael, having used all of his power to seek out God, had failed as the Prince of Heaven. He had abandoned his people, absent for centuries on a fruitless search filled with unheard, increasingly desperate prayers and an unrelenting, bone-deep exhaustion that is now permanent. His grief grew day by day, and an angel in isolation begins to wither, to warp – they must be with one another lest they twist into their extremes, retreating into their divine purpose until it becomes self-destructive parody. And Michael had already been scarred long ago by his role in banishing Lucifer, by God’s own ever-mounting wrath that ate away at the mercy he was meant to feel alongside it. Michael had already been insular, something had already pulled at the seams of his soul, and now centuries of failure consume him. He would return to Heaven with nothing for his people. Nothing for the siblings he swore to protect.

So his final thought in a deeply troubled mind urged him to try one last time. That if he could not find God, then he must bring God to himself. He must sin, he must beg for punishment, and then God will come to deliver it onto him. Just as He once did to Lucifer. It disgusted him, to think he had to debase himself to be as the sinners he held nothing but vile contempt for ever since he couldn’t cope with the guilt of the first fallen angels. But his prayers have failed, his days of weeping have failed, he moved Heaven, Earth, and all of Hell to come up with empty hands. Less than that. Not even a feeling. So Michael, even as a Cherub who could not, did everything he could to replicate his memories of when he had witnessed God Himself tear the light from His angels. Michael had seen it every time, it was he that had to bind any fallen angel that survived it to their place in Hell. He knew, implicitly, what the ritual was even if God seemed to enact it in one beautiful, elegant motion. And he did just that. Imperfect pantomiming, flawed execution, but the same ritual as best as Michael could copy it. All to himself.

But only God and the high Seraphim can sever an angel from their light.

His soul was rent from his body. His light was torn to shreds by his inexperienced hands. The agony that it screeched resounded all the way back to Heaven in unintelligible, muted whispers of nauseous grief no one could understand. Michael felt himself die, but it was incomplete. He was left in a corpse, a body destroyed and succumbing to all it meant but with him still inside of it. God did not come, and Michael was trapped a ruined body, bereft of a soul, of his light, giving way to rot and deterioration yet fully functional. He could do nothing but take this as a sign from God, one that he will not be punished no matter his crime for being such a loyal servant. Even as his body falls apart, as plants begin to burst from his remains, he believes himself to be blessed – see how he grows God’s garden. See how his crown remains pristine. He adorns his exposed bones with gems and finery, ostensibly as thanks to God for keeping him alive, keeping him sinless when he had so despised his impending fall from grace. But. Michael is, in the back of his mind, highly aware of what he’s become. He knows he is rotting, he knows he is in a dead body, he knows, somewhere, God had nothing to do with it. It was just a mistake, it was just his own foolishness with catastrophic consequence. He is more noxious than a fallen angel now, a botch job shambling numbly back to Heaven when he feels the death of Gabriel.

Upon his return, he largely attempts to hide the rot of his body, at least from the citizenry – he cannot hide it from Raphael or Uriel, nor does he try. To Michael, it proves his devotion, it shows God’s still present love for him, and it is a testimony to how he cannot fall, that he can never lose his place in Heaven. Raphael begs for him to be healed, Uriel pleads reason to him, but neither had ever been as strong as Michael and ultimately, he is their leader. No matter the state he returns in, he is the Prince of the Archangels and truthfully...they both fear him now. He is not the Michael they loved, not the one that had been quiet and stoic yet still loving in return. The Michael that would have done anything for them, that never wanted to lose another like he lost Lucifer. He commands them now to join him in binding Gabriel, his tangible grief the only thing that seems to be left of who he had once been.

Internally, Michael sees their fear, he feels the crushing guilt of Gabriel’s fall, he is violently ill with one true look at himself. He had gone wrong a long, long time ago, when he lost Lucifer, and now all of that was being made manifest, but he can’t face it. As flesh falls away, he covers it more and more with jewels as if that could hide the decay he can feel spreading night and day, the only thing he feels now. He must retreat into his purpose, he must not allow such devastating failure to be his legacy. So he turns on Gabriel. Gabriel, whose light had been severed. Who walks freely in an abandoned Hell. Who still has a living, breathing body. Michael’s vitriol toward the damned hones in on Gabriel, consumed with being sure he is left nailed to the lowest pit in Hell for his treachery. All the love he once had turns to hatred and in it, the other three can see that Michael has been left shattered, that nothing in him truly believes God made him this way. God’s most loyal, left to rot.

Additional information:

Michael now always exudes the Odor of Sanctity, but there is a distinct undertone of mold to it

The opalescent webbing that runs through his body is the angelic brain - normally it is iridescent and transparent with a strange glow, but Michael's is opaque and dull

Michael now prefers walking, something noted as unusual when he returned to Heaven, but it's simply due to the fact that his body has been left entirely numb and so it's difficult to maneuver in the air properly

He is very protective of his crown and dragon-skin bag, as they seem to be the only things left uncorrupted on him

[profaneheaven]

plus some assorted doodles

[automatonknight]

id: a digital drawing showing the ferryman from ultrakill in full view. they’re slightly turned away from the viewer, crouching down and holding their oar in one of their hands. behind the ferryman there’s a crescent moon on a dark blue, almost black, background. end id

[panstarry]

there's a knocking at the door

[hrokkall]

ULTRATOBER DAY 15 /// SISYPHEAN INSURRECTIONIST

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[thesunnys1deup]

[justskyla-art]

a ferryman whiteboard doodle

[a-ferryman-a-day]

Please draw the Ferryman playing the hurdy gurdy, there's this one song "Omen" by Guilhem Desq that immediately reminded me of "He is the Light in my Darkness"

Day 35 - I’m never drawing an instrument again

Music and credit under cut

If you like the ferryman theme or death odyssey I think you will like it

music sheet in the background by ILikeMaurice on musescore.com

[pasenchan]

Ultrakill drawings from Jan 2? - Jan 12 :] (I’m obsessed) (hatsune v1)

[kikizoshi]

can we form a coup against asagiri and make you the writer instead? genuinely... I am not taking the Fyodor immortal information well.. please help............................ ( ´，_ゝ` )

Oh, I would absolutely not do BSD well either. I just wish Asagiri had stuck to his roots more. He was a great comedy writer, and the beginning of the story was great for it. It's the action and Death Note stuff he can't seem to get mastery of. But for the immortal part: I'm not entirely sold that Fyodor's immortal, yet. It seems like yet another twists that will twist to reveal oh, shocker, he faked his memories to confuse Sigma/the ADA... or something. Could very well be immortal, but not 100% guaranteed.

[fregget-frou]

Yuu oc and Grim!!

I love my two blue glow hair people

Some stuff about them:

His name is Stire with they/he/xe pronouns, gender really isn’t a concept they grasp well.

They’re around 18 years old with baby face so people sometimes think they’re as old as the first/second years.

Headcannon Yuu with actual magic back in their realm, but as they’re soul isn’t compatible they can’t use any of it, only keeping some moderate strength and their glowy under hair.

Stire is inspired by the ferryman, the belief that a hooded figure(usually a skeleton of sorts) will take you to your afterlife on a small boat over the River of nyx in exchange for 2-3 coins over your eyes and/or tongue. They worked pretty closely with ghosts and souls so they’re right at home at ramshackle.

They are very quiet and have a very ghostly vibe to them, often scaring people if they don’t announce themselves when they enter a room. Ze once scared the aduece duo so bad through a reflection duece gave them a black eye

ADORES grim, but they don’t gush a lot. Very matter a fact and takes grim very seriously and gets very excited when he does something new.

Autistic, struggles greatly with facial expression and vocal tone(same.) very oblivious to underlying meaning of words and take things matter of factly. Can’t tell when xey are being used until someone tells him he is. Ruggie takes their food a lot…

Likes architecture and gloomy things, so Ramshackle, Diasomnia and Ignihyde are their preferred place of resident as it’s usually dark, cold, and quiet-ish. Very sensitive to stimulation so they like cave like environments that they’re used to. They despise Scarabia because it’s so HOT and BRIGHT.

Their eyes are sensitive to light, with very pale almost grey irises so xey usually hide them under bangs or sunglasses.

Cold all the time, so frigid hands, giant sweaters, warm drinks are a must.

Gargoyle obsession, along with sculpture in general. Malleus and Stire often just infodump at each other and it’s just

Yes malleus is Autistic/adhd