#also this is my first time drawing shadow...

[negativespace06]

BIG sketchbook dump from the past two weeks. over half of it is just team dark because i went a little bit crazy

[iheartmothz]

sonic and that fag that follows him around on occasion

[grimmweepers]

— ☆ 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝚰𝐎𝐒𝚰𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝚰𝐋𝐋𝐒

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’ve seen lucifer’s demon form but you can’t shake the feeling that’s it’s not all he is. what if there was something darker beneath his beautiful visage? you ask to see more but lucifer warns you it may be too much for mortal eyes. as he slowly unveils the facets of his true self, you wonder if you can love something incomprehensible? and more importantly, can it love you back?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: OM!LUCIFER x GN!reader, SFW but slightly suggestive, DARK ROMANCE ♥️, HORROR ELEMENTS, implied sex but no smut, established relationship but in the earlier stages, light angst, celestial war mention, he calls you ‘my dear’, demon x human, monster romance(?), ik my title is ‘curiosity kills’ but i promise no one dies 2.0k wc. | masterlist

𝐚/𝐧: woo! my first fic for 2025. halloween is long gone but spookyookyooky vibes are forever. i haven't written for lucifer (or the obey me fandom) since 2021 so please be kind! i love when artists draw the demons as monster-like so it inspired me to write this

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

They say curiosity killed the cat but nobody ever warns you what happens when the thing you seek is something you love. Sometimes curiosity doesn’t just kill, it pulls you into the depths and reminds you that some paths were never meant to be tread at all. 

You knew Lucifer’s demon form. Every time he brought it out, you couldn’t miss it. No one did. Those horns curling from his head, those raven wings that stretched with an elegance befitting for the pride incarnate, the diamond birthmark adorning his forehead. He looked every inch the fallen angel. Dangerous. Powerful. But still akin to something recognisable. Something human. That was what you thought his “demon form” meant, or at least the extent of it. 

But the closer you got to him, emotionally, physically—you started to suspect there’d be more. This was Lucifer, after all. The same Morning Star who watched the Celestial Realm itself fracture, the one who waged war and defied his own Father for his sister’s sake. Of course, there would be layers to him, parts that are hidden beneath polished veneers that he might not want you to see.

The revelation came gradually, though not accidentally. He’d never risk an accident with something like this. It wasn’t just about protecting you, it was also about managing what it would mean for him to be fully seen.

It began one night in his room. His usual form was already on display, horns casting long shadows on the walls as his wings arched lazily behind him. You were comfortable with this version of him, so much so that you’d leaned into his shoulder, tracing his horns absentmindedly as he read aloud from some aged, prodigious book. The question had been on your mind but you didn’t realise what you’d said until the words were out of your mouth. 

“Is there more?” You asked concretely.

He stilled, halting his finger mid-sentence against the page. “More?” his voice was neutral like always. 

“Of… this,” you gestured vaguely at him. “Your form. You expect me to believe this is the Avatar of Pride’s only face?”  

The jest was meant to lighten the mood, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he closed the book and turned his gaze on you. His eyes burned a little brighter—sharper. “What you see now is what I allow you to see. There are parts of me not meant for human eyes,” he said softly. 

“So you’ve locked those parts away?”

“Not locked,” he corrected you. “Contained. Managed.”

That should have been the end of it but you couldn’t let it go. Not after seeing a flicker of hesitation in his face. Or perhaps it was fear. So you would’ve let it go until you wondered: 

What could possibly unnerve Lucifer?

———

The first time he showed you, it was brief. Something of a test. 

“Don’t move,” he instructed, “and don’t look away.”

You stood in his study, your heart pounding as he stepped back, seeing his usual form dissolve into something more. His wings expanded, shifting like spilled ink on water. His horns lengthened, spiraling like gnarled roots of an oak tree, and his skin took on a strange sheen, as though it couldn’t decide whether it was flesh or something far older. 

But it was his eyes that terrified you. The whites were gone, replaced by an endless, tormenting black. You felt like you were being pulled into them, swallowed by the power of something vast and unknowable.

However, there was also heat that felt familiar, pressing into you like his breath fanning over your skin in the dead of night, when his hands explored every crevice on your body. This form, alien as it was, still carried the same possessive hunger. You had to grip onto the edge of a nearby table to steady yourself.  

And then, as quickly as it came, it receded. His wings folded back, his horns shrank and his eyes returned to that familiar crimson. “Enough for tonight,” you were assailed by the sound of his shoes clicking against the hardwood as he made his way to you. 

Something, he thought, was not quite right. You were shaken, yes, but not disturbed. He had expected you to avert your eyes, to flinch or look away lest the weight of his true form crush your sanity. Yet you watched him with defiance in your expression and more unsettling still, he found himself watching you back. What was it that kept you here? What had driven you to face something so unnatural and still hold your ground?

———

The second time was different. 

You were sitting at the edge of his bed with your legs tucked beneath you. His shirt hung loosely on your frame as the scent of him clung to the fabric. Much like other nights, you’d spent this one wrapped around each other until exhaustion claimed you both.

Lucifer suddenly tugged at his shirt and after your eyes fell on him, you felt something gnawing in your stomach. But you were surprised when he only asked with a casual cadence, 

“Do you trust me?”

You nodded like it was perfectly normal to place your earnest trust in a demon like him. You’d already given yourself to him in every way that mattered, baring your soul just as he had bared his body to you time and time again.

Fond with your answer, he stood up and smiled. “Then close your eyes.”

When you opened them, the world felt…wrong.

What you saw had to have been a dream-picture because his form was towering enough to barely fit the space and his wings no longer looked like they belonged to anything earthly. The feathers were shifting, like they had been replaced by shards of black glass catching onto nonexistent light. His horns gleamed like molten metal and his face wasn’t entirely his. It was flickering between the Lucifer you knew and something you couldn’t name but felt in the deepest part of your being. 

The diamond on his forehead began to glow, its light blotting shapes in all angles. And then it split, revealing a vertical slit of an unblinking eye that stared into you—not at you, but into you, through you.

Somewhere in between you must’ve hauled yourself onto the floor and stumbled back because your knees were not on the mattress anymore but on wood. A pressure built in your chest but you simply couldn’t look away.

Lucifer didn’t speak, he just watched you like before but this time you felt as though every secret you’d ever buried was laid bare. It wasn’t until he eventually spoke your name that you realised you were crying.

“Breathe,” he said, kneeling before you. His voice was echoing like it was coming from inside you. “I told you it wasn’t meant for human eyes. We can stop.”

“It’s okay, it’s just…a lot,” you said, trembling but not from the cold.

He approached you, his hand eerily warm against your cheek as he wiped your tears and helped you to your feet. “You’re doing better than most would. I’m proud of you.” 

“Does it ever hurt?” you swallowed hard, like there was rough rope lodged down your throat. The change was not as graceful as you thought it would be. It came ripping out of him like it was something he constantly suppressed. 

“No,” you heard a break of vulnerability in his display. “But it can be lonely.”

“Lonely?” 

“It is a grave reminder that demons exist to fear. Sometimes to worship. But never to love.”

Never to love because defending love was what made him this way.

Once respite had settled, a look of sullen reflection had overcome Lucifer’s face, wondering if this left you with little desire to see more. 

———

Before the third time came, he warned you about the strain it might put on your mind, “This time might be dangerous.” But you insisted and he remained cautious. 

When it happened, it wasn’t in the confines of his room but outside, beneath the yawning void of the Devildom’s starless sky. He told you it would be safer this way. For both of you.

His transformation hit you like a violent wind. Lucifer didn’t just change, he expanded uncontainably into something monstrous, his body shimmering like a dark mirage. His horns were jagged spires, sharp enough to cleave through the Celestial Palace itself and you couldn’t see where his wings ended and began—only that they were folding and unfolding like obsidian knives. 

Then, there was his mouth that stretched wider than it should have, revealing rows of teeth too sharp, too numerous. They weren’t made for smiling, they were meant to tear and consume, a predator’s maw lurking beneath his visage. And his eyes—or the absence of them—were blackened husks whilst the unblinking eye on his forehead sat like an all-seeing sigil. 

Shadows pulsed into your vision, pooling at your feet and reaching for you like they knew your name. The sheer magnitude of Lucifer’s form left you breathless. If this was the strength of someone who served second to Diavolo, then what maddening power must the Prince of the Devildom truly possess? And beyond even that, the Demon King himself—origin of all darkness. The thought had chills coiling around your spine and you thanked the Heavens he was resting in his indefinite slumber. 

Yet strangely, in all that horror, there was beauty. Lucifer’s voice called to you like a melody and his vibrating presence, for all its terror, might have even felt soothing. It was magnificent. 

“Are you afraid?” he asked from everywhere and nowhere. A question that wasn’t meant to frighten but rather a lifeline, a chance to retreat before you fell any deeper. 

You should have been. Any rational being would have been. But instead, you took a step closer and reached out to the impossibility of his form. You touched something, though whether it was his face, his chest, or his soul, you weren’t sure.

“No,” you said between awe and surrender. “Never.” 

At that moment, you understood what it meant to love a creature who stood at the precipice of an existence that could shatter you with mere thought. 

“You are the first to see this and not run. You reach for the flame, knowing it will burn you,” he spoke like the deep roll of a bell. 

 “How could I not?” You didn’t step back, what was left of your willpower rooted you to the ground. “You’ve never been anything less than this. I could feel it.”

For a fleeting second, you saw the disintegration of his monstrous form, red eyes flickering through black ones as his pride briefly softened in the quiet between you. His wings faltered, a deep inhuman sigh escaping his lips. It was the first time you'd seen him so... uncertain.

“You think you know me so well? They say I am nothing but contradictions. Do you think love could redeem something like me? I could destroy you without meaning to,” this time he laughed but you knew this wasn’t anything he found funny. In fact, it hurt him to think there was any part of him that could cause you to recoil from the truth of what he was.

“But you haven’t because you don’t want to.” Again, his figure quickly distorted into something you were more familiar with. “Has it ever crossed your mind that I never wanted perfection, Lucifer?”

“Then what is it you want from me, if not to run?”

Your heart wound tight, it wasn’t difficult to tell him but you weren’t entirely sure if he’d even believe it. “Just you.”

He said nothing whilst your nostrils flared. “Just you,” you repeated.  

Lucifer's unblinking eye narrowed, its glow dimming just slightly as if your words had managed to reach that inscrutable part of him. “You walk the line between courageous and naive, my dear.” 

“Then I suppose it’s naive of me to hope you’re walking with me.” 

A faint pause. His wings shimmered behind him, his hesitation was palpable but not binding. “If you would dare to take such steps, then you will not tread alone.” 

It was resolute, his words settling like an oath.

Curiosity, they said, kills the cat. But in this case, it didn't. It brought you to a place you'd never thought you'd find. Lurking in the darkness of his true form, where love had no place for so long, you found the first glint of light.

A dark, dangerous light, but a light nonetheless.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

more a/n: i’m fascinated by eldritch/lovecraftian horror, can you tell?

divider: @/adornedwithlight

networks: @pixelcafe-network @houseofsolisoccasum

tagging you bc you kindly asked eep @sugurouge

[sosa2imagines]

I swear this is the last idea, don’t mind me😭

If it’s okay, can I please request a Lloyd x fem!reader where he happens to find an abducted woman when he barges into a warehouse to take out an enemy and takes her back home with him. He is really gentle with her and helps take care of her and helps treat her wounds and helps her feel safe for the first time in a while and spoils her. He has no plans of ever letting her go, not that she even wants to leave herself (she is perfectly content staying with and being taken care of by Lloyd forever). Also she def jumped into his arms after he told her he offed the man who had kidnapped her in the first place

Girlie just wants to be held😭

Hey dear, I hope you enjoy this. Lloyd is my most favorite.

Warning- Angst, kidnapped, hostage situation, fluff.

The air is stale, rank with the scent of sweat and grime. Moonlight streams in through a crack in the ceiling, bathing the space in a pale, silver glow. The only other source of light comes from a bulb dangling from an exposed wire, casting wavering shadows on the warped floorboards.

Shifting your raw, chafed wrists slightly, you peer out into the darkness beyond your small corner. Every creak of the old building sets your nerves on edge, your breath catching in your throat with each sound. Who's out there? Allies? Enemies?

You grimace as your cramped muscles spasm, pain rippling through your exhausted body. Every inch of you is bruised or scraped, a tapestry of purples and blues painted across your skin. But it’s not just the physicality that’s tormenting you. It's the helplessness, the uncertainty, the knowledge that you’re at the mercy of others with no hope of escape.

You just want this nightmare to end.

You jerk back as the warehouse door abruptly slams open, the metallic thunk like a thunderclap in the silence. A brief volley of gunfire follows, crisp, sharp detonations that send a shudder through you. Then, silence. The heavy footfalls echo across the floorboards, getting louder with each step until a towering shadow falls across you.

Your eyes widen as he crouches down, your vision blurred by tears. He towers over you, muscular and broad shouldered, his polo shirt stained with smears of blood. But it’s his eyes that draw your attention, those blue depths holding a strange lack of malice.

“Hey there, sugar.” His voice is soft, a low and warm. He gives a small, reassuring smile, the first hint of warmth you’ve seen in days. “I’m not here to hurt ya.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the hint of gentleness in his voice. The man, obviously capable of violence, evidenced by the bodies you’re certain lie behind him, holds out his hand, palm up in a non-threatening gesture. His gaze falls to your wrists, the skin raw and angry from the ropes. A flicker of concern passes across his face, he reaches out and gently wipes away the tear streaks on your cheeks.

“Let’s get you out of here.” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as if his volume might break you.

You don't even consider resisting as he picks you up, holding you with a gentle strength that surprises you, his arms warm and strong. The heat of his chest presses through the thin fabric of his shirt, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of security in his presence. You collapse into his chest, letting yourself be enveloped by his warmth. 

Lloyd's home is the very epitome of luxury, you’ve only seen in magazines, filled with expensive furniture, expansive windows, and the clean, sharp scent of leather and cedar that dominates the space. He's surprisingly careful with you, gently setting you down on the cushiony sofa before disappearing into another room and returning with a first-aid kit.

“You’re safe now.” he reassures you with a soft, sincere smile. His voice is gentle, his tone earnest as he kneels beside you. “No one’s going to hurt you again.” He lifts the first-aid kit, his movements slow and deliberate as he begins to tend to your wrists, cleaning the raw skin with a touch that’s infinitely more tender than expected.

His touch is precise and patient as he works, his hands gentle and skilled. When you flinch at the pain, he halts, the deep cerulean of his eyes lifting to yours in question. “Too rough?” he asks, his voice low and concerned.

You shake your head, a small sigh passing your lips. “No…It’s alright. Thank you.”

He nods, continuing his work in silence. Once he’s finished, he tosses the used bandages aside and grabs a blanket, draping it over your shoulders.

“Hungry? Thirsty?” he asks, already heading toward the kitchen. “You look like you could use something warm.”

A small laugh escapes from you, as Lloyd begins to bark orders at his men.

Over the next few hours, you unburden yourself, telling him everything, the night at the club, the man who refused to take no for an answer, the terror of the days that followed.

Lloyd listens intently, his jaw clenching tight as the tale unfolds, the muscles in his hands tensing into fists. When you finally finish, he leans back in his chair, his expression chillingly calm, his eyes hard and determined.

“He’s dead!” Lloyd asserts, his voice cold and utterly certain. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” His gaze is steady, his eyes locking onto yours, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

“Thank you,” you whisper, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“Shh…” he murmurs, his hand soothingly rubbing your back. “You don’t have to thank me, sugar. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let that bastard get away with it.”

Over the days that follow, Lloyd makes it his mission to take care of you. He spoils you in ways you've never experienced before: your favorite meals, soft, fitted clothes, and an endless stream of affection that leaves you utterly breathless.

He’s constantly there, a watchful presence, his protective nature a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

You feel yourself starting to relax, the fear that once gripped you evaporating slowly. You can’t imagine leaving, can’t fathom returning to the life you once had before Lloyd.  He’s become your safe haven, your protector, your security and strength. But most importantly your heart belongs to him now.

And Lloyd? He's got no intention of letting you leave his side, his protective nature only growing stronger with every passing moment. The thought of you returning to your previous life is completely and utterly unacceptable to him. Just like you, his heart if he ever considers having one, now belonged to you.

“I’m keeping you, sugar,” he tells you one night, his hand tenderly brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re mine now.”

You smile, leaning into his touch, a quiet sense of peace settling over you. “Good,” you murmur, your voice warm and content. “Because I don't want to be anywhere else.”

As time goes by, your bond with Lloyd only deepens. The fear and anxiety of your past life are distant memories, replaced by the safety and security he’s provided. His presence in your life is a constant, his protectiveness unwavering, his affection unquestionable.

Every night, as he holds you close to his chest, he repeats the same words, “You’re mine. Forever.”

Taglist- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

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@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss @kpopgirlbtssvt

[artzy-demxn]

Drew that one drawing of the SASS Hedgehog squad with a little hedgehog from the Archie comics <3

This is technically my first time drawing any characters from the Sonic series (except Shadow). There's some design headcanons I added/slight redesigns. You can't see shit with Silver since we'll you can't see that much of him anyway 🥲

Original ↓↓

Also the tiny ass hedgehog. I hope I did the little guy justice.

[nemesis-writer]

Five Minutes (Chapter 3)

Masterlist Let the Games Begin TW: mentions of blood, mental illness

The Waynes were waiting in agony for their first game. They were prepared to battle it together. But what they didn't know is that they each of them have to go through it alone.

In the Base...

I'm only known as Eurus in the underground world but my name shall always be (Y/N). I have built myself up all the way just to taste the blood in my hands. I was never gonna be the next Robin nor Batman, so why not create a name for my own.

I was able to send the letter for the first test for them, and have it sent anonymously. Now, I need to sleep as well.

I maybe a concierge of crime, but I also need to be with my baby.

At the Waynes'...

Everyone had to keep their eyes peeled and remain unflinching. Whenever there is a delivery or a package, there is always an inspection with x-rays in order to make sure that it's harmless.

They had to take extra precautions in order to prevent the exploitation of their identities, along with the ramifications of their 'stainless' reputation.

Until it was finally there...

The first game.

It had 'DAMIAN.' Written in capital letters, and in the notorious green color designed. Thanks Riddler.

The letter...

There's a child's life on the line Little Demon. If you try to pull anything, so here's a little riddle.

Here's a riddle based on Squid Game, Saw, and a basement:

'In shadows deep, where fear does grow, A game begins, you do not know. With each step forward, the danger nears, The stakes are high, and so are fears.

Twisted minds, with plans so sly, Trapped in a place where you can't ask why. A room cold, with echoes loud, Walls closing in, no escape allowed.

Through chains and locks, you struggle, fight, But only the brave can see the light. The clock is ticking, time is tight, Where are you now? What’s out of sight?'

"Bruce, what does this mean?", Damian wonders.

"Walls closing in? Trapped in a- Oh shit." Bruce cursed. It was an unusual sight for Bruce to curse since he was usually informed how barbaric it was by Alfred.

"It's a basement of an abandoned factory." Bruce stated.

"A bit more specific since there's like a hundred of them especially in Gotham." Jason says.

"Alright so I need everyone to split up and go through every abandoned factory and if anyone sees any sign of life or a clue then speak in the comms." Bruce commanded.

They all spread out one by one looking for the kid or at least a clue. Factory to factory, street to street, they searched high and low and even the most minute details weren't left out.

Until they finally found it.

The first clue.

"Guys I found the first clue, I'm in Bludhaven Street."yelled Dick.

Everyone rushed and reached the basement. It also showed an old, probably made in the 1900's, telephone. They were too eager to even notice the hidden security cameras.

Damian eagerly opened it and read:

'In a room so small, the walls feel tight, A game is set, but not of delight. No choice, no chance to run away, You must stay sharp and make your play.

The door is locked, the air is cold, Silent whispers of the truth untold. A puzzle waits, a test of mind, With every step, danger you’ll find.

Ticking sounds, a faint warning near, What’s hidden here is crystal clear. Almost there, the end in sight— But tread carefully, or face the night.'

'Room, ticking, no chance, locked door.' Bruce tries to think of it.

"A bomb in an apartment." Jason figured out and yelled. All the the sudden the phone starts to ring.

"Someone answer the phone," Cassandra yelled.

"You answer the fucking phone," Damian replied.

"This is your test Demon Spawn there is a kid on the line and more people with the kid." Jason retorts.

Damian reluctantly answered the phone and heard:

'Congratulations for the first game, Where blood will spill and none’s to blame. A twisted start, a sinister plot, A place where hope is soon forgot.

The faces cold, their eyes wide with fear, For every step, a fate draws near. No room for mercy, no chance to flee, In this cruel game, there’s no decree.

As the doors close, the lights grow dim, The air grows thick with a haunting hymn. A moment's silence, a final breath, The line between life and certain death.

Congratulations for the first game, But it’s too late now to place the blame. Tick-tock, tick-tock, it’s time to spin, Let the games begin.'

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

[imactuallyacartooncharacter]

It finally happened (hit a creative block), so I decided to redraw an old piece that I've been meaning to revisit for a while already.

THIS WAS THE FIRST DRAWING I EVER MADE OF DRAGON BONNIE!!!

Aw, I missed drawing her :) Also, my whole au exists 'cause I was trying to come up with and explanation to this scene.

In case it's someone's first time hearing about my au, allow me to summarize it: Bonnie's natural form isn't humanoid, it's dragonic, like Neddy's, and if she pushes too far physically and/or mentally she regresses to her dragon form as a way to recover, and the change is not only on a physical level, but mental too, so she acts pretty much like an animal until she's back to normal (it's kind of like dragon burnout snxjsbs) (if anyone os interested in reading more about just enter the tag "Dragon Bonnie AU", I have a few posts talking about it).

The version with shadows is bellow the cut 'cause I'm not sure if I liked it enxksns

[lunadetta]

hey so i like shadamy (and amy rose) a very normal amount so here i am back from the artistic dead ❤️

maybe i'll do shadamy week stuff idk

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

At your side [End of Season 2]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[chitinleg]

got him off-balance!

[sonlc]

team chaotix is fun to draw

[thatonecrazysidekick]

@sunfloweraro these tags of yours ignited an Art Spark within me, so here's Hyrule carrying Bunny in his arms like a baby!! I hope you like it <(^-^<)

(I hope it's not too blurry--tumblr kept making the image visibly worse whenever I put it in this post for some reason??? so...)

(Also CHAPTER SIX??? OMG THAT'S CRAZYYYY)

[seldompathic]

My partner gave me expressions to draw and well

[chorioretinitis]

my take on pre-corruption shadow milk's design

[tainebot01]

Considering that they both attended Themis Legal Academy around the same time, there is a greater than zero chance this happened at some point.

[Image ID: A digital redraw of the ‘Father in emergency room with son due to arrow injury’ meme, with Sebastian Debeste and Hugh O’ Connor from Ace Attorney. Both of them are sitting in an emergency waiting room. Sebastian has an arrow in his upper right torso, and Hugh is holding a Kyūdō archery bag. Sebastian has his arms crossed with his baton resting in his right hand, while Hugh is nervously gripping his archery bag with his left hand. Sebastian has a relatively calm or slightly amused facial expression despite the situation, while Hugh looks rightly concerned. End Description]

[thecorruptedquietone]

Shadow would definitely take Sonic having other rivals SUPER WELL.

Utterly ✨I N S P I R E D✨ by @nenemyunart's tweet spree.

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