#birdo babbles for an extended period of time

[birdo-is-here]

ooouuuuu more writing has struckkk 💥💥💥 Uriel pov timmeee !!!!!! ?!?!?!?!?

word count: 840~

warning for implied abuse!

Generally, as soon as the matters of a meeting were done, and the Seraphs and guests were all dismissed, the Archangels preferred to stay back — at least the few minutes, typically for casual chatter.

It was only a recent addition to the routine, but Uriel had to say they quite enjoyed it. They suspected many of the others enjoyed it as well, even Azrael — though they were typically the first to leave the balcony.

Behind Michael’s seat, a large piece of empty space sat, where Metatron had just been looming behind them all, watching silently. Judging, perhaps.

Michael seemed significantly calmer, now that the statue had left. The entire meeting, Uriel couldn’t help but notice how on edge he’d seemed; constantly fidgeting, completely restless in his seat. No one below the balcony would have noticed, at least, the Supreme Archangel was very good at keeping his voice level when he needed to.

Uriel wasn’t sure if anyone else on the balcony had noticed Michael’s false demeanour. They figured Raphael had; the Doctor seemed to cast glances at him periodically, as if checking on him.

Uriel couldn’t help but notice the bandages wrapped around Michael’s torso, under his robes.

“What is a mailman?” Phanuel suddenly asked, drawing the Guardians attention to the Messenger. They exhaled an amused breath. How ironic.

“It’s a man who delivers mail.” Azrael supplied.

“What’s a mail?”

“Another word for man.”

Hm. “No, not in this case. Mail is a form of communication that humans use to keep in touch from long distances. Through gifts, letters and other random junk.” Uriel corrected, before Phanuel could make a comment about men delivering men, “A man who delivers a man would be a taxi. Or something along those lines.”

Azrael gave a curious trill, while Phanuel gave an intrigued hum of a similar variety.

“What is junk?”

“Trash.” The Death once more supplied, a little more correctly this time.

“Ohh..”

Michael exhaled a breath near them. He usually wasn’t one to be a huge contributor to these chats; Generally Phanuel and Azrael lead that charge, but he was typically more… chatty than this, still. His gaze was turned downwards, a distant look in his eye.

Raphael seemed to be knitting something now, her attention fully elsewhere.

“What are you knitting?” Uriel asked the Doctor, who looked up as her focus was pulled back to the room.

“Oh, some of your Guardians requested a more… human-esc outfit. Supposedly to help with blending in, since they didn’t want to rob any stores,” Raphael responded, her hands stalling. The fabric was a dull pink; it seemed to be the beginnings of a sweater. Uriel gave a curious trill of acknowledgment.

“Tell them to rob the biggies all they want,” Azrael grunted, waving a dismissive hand, “all those corporate fucks care about is money, they can do with losing a bit of it.”

Raphael looked between Uriel and Azrael, “well, tell that to their own leader, not me.” And she continued her knitting, as the Death snuffed. Phanuel leaned over to Azrael, as if quietly asking them something, though he seemed to get shut down rather quickly.

“It’s not getting too in the way of your schedule, is it? I can ask them to find another way, if it’s easier,” Their eyes narrowed in mild concern.

The Doctor waved a dismissed hand. “No, it’s quite alright. I’m a little less stacked up these days, fortunately. I’m happy to give myself a hobby for the time being.”

The Guardian hummed, relaxing some amount. “Very well, then. Please, do tell me if you don’t have time, though.”

“Of course.”

Michael seemed to be getting restless again, Uriel noticed, claws scratching roughly at the arm of his chair, though his eyes stayed as distant as ever. Eyes narrowing in concern, the Guardian leaned over to the Soldier.

“Are you alright, love?” They lowered their voice, though they knew at least one person in the room would hear it anyway. Michael was suddenly brought back to the present time, his gaze swiftly turning to the other.

“Yes— Yes, I'm fine. Sorry.” He sounded a little sheepish, his voice softer than usual. Uriel produced a worried hum, but they didn’t try to prompt any further.

Eventually though, Uriel soon noticed that Michael had left his seat. They looked to the floor, figuring that was the next place he’d be, and sure enough, the Soldier was opening the doors to leave.

Why, he looked rather tired. He was slouched over a little, his eyes still rather distant and unfocused as he stepped out of the room. The doors closed quietly behind him.

This seemed to be a common pattern in that angel. Specifically, immediately or not long after a punishment has just occurred. Generally, the worst ones would leave him this unresponsive.

But the punishments in general had been getting more common recently. They didn’t know what exactly he was trying to prove, but clearly these consequences were wearing on him. They couldn’t say they weren’t worried.

[birdo-is-here]

woop woop here’s what happened in the water while Apollyon was trying not to die on land btw

word count: ~1100

tw for: blood, and many many feathers lost. Also take note that, while i don’t really go into great detail describing it, the setting for this is quite thalassophobia-inducing 👍 lotta water

[As soon as Ananiel entered the water again, she rushed and tackled Michael, already trying to push him in some direction. He would have dodged her, if only she wasn’t in the perfect conditions to gain the upper hand, and he weren’t in a state of extreme agony that worsened every time he moved.]

[Alas, a master of water was attacking her weakened opponent in a thalassophobiak’s nightmare. At least it wasn’t too dark; light shined down from somewhere above. Suppose this place did count as a section of Heaven.]

[Oh, he didn’t like that realisation, actually. Time to get out. He should check on Apollyon.]

[He kicked at the angel, attempting to at least stun her but, riight, she was wearing near-indestructible golden armour. Yes, maybe a bit of a complication there.]

[For once, Michael was actually quite relieved the armour never quite covered everything. He grabbed for one of Ananiel’s shoulder wings, pushing a leg against her torso as he grabbed a handful of feathers and pulled]

[The angel made a pained noise, yanking her arm away from her aggressor. Several white feathers that started a light grey at the base were pulled free, and pushed aside in the water by Michael.]

[Ananiel recovered remarkably quickly from the attack, rushing at Michael again and grabbing her own fistful of feathers, however this time aiming for the wings on Michael’s head. She pulled. He sucked in a pained breath he couldn’t really take under the water, and attempted to tug his head free]

[She had a much more secure grip than he did, as it turned out. It happened to be so secure because she was holding onto the base of one of the wings. Ah, she was trying to tear it out. Great.]

NotFuckingFair I just pulled out some feathers—!

[He clicked the ‘words’ to her, still unable to speak. She didn’t really make much of a response, simply putting a hand at his face to help try to separate the wing from the head]

[Michael’s hands rocketed up, trying to yank her own arms away. Maybe he was tired, or maybe she’d gotten a strength boost underwater. It was strikingly difficult to remove her arms]

[Still, he didn’t give up. After realising straight pulling them away wasn’t going to work, Michael resorted to yanking the arm holding his wing to and fro in a desperate attempt to make her let go]

[Fortunately, it eventually worked. Less fortunately, she had a strong enough grip on his wing that it was roughly tugged outwards. It wasn’t separated from the angel, but he did feel something tear.]

[At least he still had feeling in the wing, and it was still movable — even if it hurt like hell to do so. Maybe it was just a sprain, then. He could work with that.]

[Oh, he made the mistake of even getting momentarily distracted by his pain. He must’ve been getting rusty. Either way, Ananiel suddenly had her arms around the fallen angel, not quite in a hug but more in an attempt to secure him in place. Oh, dammit not this again—]

[Michael struggled in her hold, and she increased the pressure, which also happened to give him a rather painful reminder of the injuries on both sides of his body. He very briefly felt his body lock up at the sudden pain spike, but he forced himself out of it, and he abruptly smashed his head against Ananiel’s skull in an attempt to break free]

[Helmets were never exactly needed in the armour. To be fair, technically none of the armour was needed except for the Halo’s crown. Helmets were especially never included, though, it simply didn’t work with how angel’s heads were built. It impaired too much or their vision.]

[That being said, he did wonder now if Ananiel was wishing Heaven had designed helmets. She finally let go, drifting backwards away from Michael. She was certainly winded, at least; she looked terribly disoriented even in the blurriness of the water. Unfortunately, so was Michael.]

[As soon as he recovered though, he took the opportunity to bolt, heading for where he was pretty sure that exit was. Get out. Get out. Ananiel recovered quickly after, though, and she cut him off before he could find it. Fuck.]

[Then, Michael could’ve sworn he saw her wing sort of… clip through the water, in a way. As if there was an invisible portal that her wing had accidentally phased through. He knew she saw him witness it, but her expression didn’t change much. Of course not.]

[He was still quite proud of himself, though. Suppose he did retain those skills from his trip to Leviathan’s layer of Hell so long ago. Now to get past]

[Ananiel waded forward, attempting to push Michael back again. She wanted to take him somewhere and he knew exactly where. Where else would she take him other than Heaven?]

[She got too close, and Michael swiped at her head, leaving a nasty set of scratches across her face. She blinked in a brief moment of shock as a dark red blood quickly began to tint the clean water]

[She never got angry, didn’t she? She hardly showed any emotion as she recovered, simply resuming her advance on the fallen angel — only much quicker this time.]

[Ananiel grabbed Michael by the shoulder wings, jerking him forward as she tore out another two large handfuls of feathers. Oh, come on.]

[He decided to advance on her, and the two quickly fell into a rough tussle.]

[Michael felt another several clumps of feathers get torn out, quite a few even leaving small amounts of blood behind — or maybe that was just from the scratches he left? He couldn’t tell. Some certainly felt painful enough to bleed.]

[He grabbed at whatever feathers he could see, grabbing them and yanking them out at the quickest pace he could manage. Far too many feathers were being lost for his liking; he doubted Ananiel was enjoying it either, though.]

[At some point in the fray, he felt the angel reach for the tattered remains of what used to be his primary wings. There weren’t many full feathers there, anyway, but there were still some. Ananiel got a hold of a few and, of course, tugged.]

[Michael’s panic spiked, as did the pain in his back. It was no longer a simple tussle, he needed to get her away.]

[In a desperate, adrenaline-fueled attempt to now free himself, Michael raised a leg and pushed it against the other angel, driving her backwards.]

[She went further than either of them expected, but Michael didn’t dwell on it. He had to get out now. He had to make sure they were okay. He quickly took the opportunity to get through the portal]

[birdo-is-here]

Bit of an aftermath to the most recent nightmare Michael had, from Raphael’s perspective this time! How fun

Warning for: Descriptions of lots of blood and injuries, one of those injuries being impalement! also some (rather strong) allusions to abuse (let me know if i missed anything please!)

As soon as Raphael stepped into the room, she winced. Michael was splayed out across the tile, unmoving aside from the violent shaking in his body. Peculiarly, he looked to be in his human form. That was interesting; they didn’t usually ask Michael to change into a human form for these punishments.

The polished, white tile was contaminated; dark red blood was smeared around and pooling beneath Michael. The hoodie — the hoodie he only wore when in this form — was almost entirely tinted the darker colour, soaked in the angel’s own blood. 

Raphael approached her patient, taking in what more she could of Michael’s condition as she did so. There was blood on his face. A lot of blood. He didn’t seem to be responding to her approach, either.

As she reached him, she knelt down in the blood, placing a gentle hand on Michael’s shoulder. 

His shaking looked worse, now that Raphael was closer to him; his breathing was incredibly laboured, it was probably stretching it a bit to call what the angel was doing “breathing”. There was a puncture wound right in the middle of his sternum; judging by the blood pooling beneath him, it was certainly a full impalement. Great.

His face was in fact mostly covered in blood. It seemed to be quite a large facial wound, though it was rather difficult to tell… where exactly it was with all the blood, or even if there was only one wound there. Michael’s eyes were clouded over with pain and delirium, staring absently up at the ceiling, though his pupils shifted very slightly in response to the Doctor’s touch.

Good, at least he was… somewhat responsive. 

“Michael, you with us?” She asked as clarification. Michael blinked once, and then proceeded to screw his eyes shut. She hummed to herself, looking over his wounds once more. His arms and legs were broken, too.

… Bloody hell. Alright.

She slipped her hand a bit more onto Michael’s back, gently coaxing him into sitting up. He didn’t take it too well. 

His eyes shot open, fear still fresh as his shivering got worse. He whimpered, shrinking away as best he could manage in his state.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, it’s okay” She immediately pulled away, her voice softening for the other. The after-effects of these punishments were becoming a bit too… human, lately. Michael settled again, his demeanour relaxing as much as it would allow.

“Can you try to sit up? I’ll help you, I just need to look over your injury,” She tried again. Michael made no response at first, just staring absently at the ceiling. A moment later, he shifted as he tried to pull himself up by his torso.

Raphael’s arm quickly found his back, staying cautious of the spear-shaped wound there, too, as she helped him sit up. He made a small sound of anguish, tears beginning to stream, which certainly would have only hurt his face more. 

Once up, she quietly coaxed him into leaning against her, which he did without arguing. The tears still fell. Raphael adjusted her hold a bit, still staying cautious of his back.

“Cough up what you can of the blood. Get it out of your throat.” Before she even finished speaking, he followed through, hacking up dark red blood into his lap. His coughs were throaty, and clearly painful even to another person. She rubbed circles on his back, holding him close against her.

His arms were completely slack, holding themselves at odd angles on the angel. The bleeding had gotten a little worse in his chest. Time to deal with that. An already-prepared piece of cloth appeared in Raphael’s free hand.

“This is going to hurt. You’re okay, I'm disinfecting the wound,” She had to repeat herself before Michael responded with a very subtle nod.

Raphael gently pressed the cloth to the injury, and Michael tensed. He sucked in a pained, shallow breath, his eyes widening slightly, though he didn’t move — or at least, he didn’t try to.

“You’re doing great, you’re okay. Just shake your head if it gets too painful,” 

…

Immediately after disinfecting the wounds, Raphael teleported herself and Michael into her office. She nearly stumbled. The room was perfectly clean and, for lack of a better term, simple. A box shape; with several cupboards and desks scattered about, alongside a strange, small bed in the corner that now housed the quivering Michael.

… Ah. Right. She still needed to get used to the more… modernised look of the place. Ever since she had noticed it was subtly changing to suit the time frame, it was getting increasingly difficult to keep “up to date” with its new looks. 

No matter, she’d adjust. She had work to do.

Raphael set off to her cupboards, grabbing several new bandages and a few tools, those namely being: a suture kit, four different types of syringes — the other types just in case — and a small bottle of liquid. By then, she was out of hands, so she quickly hurried over to where Michael was and placed the supplies on a nearby desk. Then she was off again.

This time, she grabbed a roll of cast padding, and then a roll of plaster cast. ..And then a couple more rolls. She began to double back to Michael again, before stopping just as quickly.

… He was in his human form for this one, wasn’t he? His measurements may have been different in this form. She went to collect a roll of measuring tape, before finally making it back to the injured angel.

As Raphael turned her attention back on him, she noticed he was staring, unblinkingly, with a look of mild terror — or caution — at something behind her, somewhere above her. Confused, she followed his gaze, until it landed on…

.. Ah. He was staring at the light. Suppose any point of fixed light would… have that effect, considering it would resemble… …H. Hm. 

She momentarily considered snapping her fingers, turning the light off. ..Of course, she chose to keep it on. He would have to learn eventually. They only wanted the best for him.

[birdo-is-here]

lil bit o writing for those silly little angles that live in my head, in which a character i cannot yet name has a fun time

written in rp format bc we stay silly

no tags needed for this one i think??? pls lemme know if i missed any

[The hook was looped around the demon’s halo, pulling out. The hot pink ring flickered with discomfort, straining to remain intact. The demon made a pained sound, struggling against Azrael’s hold with panicked ferocity]

OKAY— WAIT WAIT LAST WORDS?? ALLOW A GIRL HER LAST WORDS???

[Azrael faltered slightly, only to regard the demon for a moment]

.. No.

[They continued to pull. The pain resumed as the demon felt his very being getting pulled apart. He made another sound of struggle, arms grabbing at Azrael’s arm, though they seemed to have an iron grip]

STOP STOP I JUS— IT'SJUST A QUESTIONITS A QUESTION ABOUT GOD

[Azrael paused, giving the demon a curious look. She heaved for a long moment, the damage to her halo already having done its job]

Okay— okay it’s like— you usually do this to serve God right?? Like you lot always do this for God yes??

[It grunted in confirmation. The hook didn’t move from its place at the halo]

it's just like God is missing now right?? Like most know this yeah???

[It then seemed to grow slightly uncomfortable] … right.

well… Why do you still do this, then? If God isn’t here to receive these services and like… Who are you serving, now?

[Xe seemed to grow more uncomfortable. Xe didn’t answer, so he continued]

Is it like… The humans? To keep the humans safe?

[Xe scowled, clearly offended by the very idea]

Fuck, no. Absolutely not. I couldn’t give two shits about them.

Well then… Who are you doing this for?

[The discomfort returned. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, replaced by the usual glare. Azrael released a small growl as they pulled at the halo again. The demon sucked in a wince, that tearing feeling returning far too quickly]

[But perhaps their heart wasn’t in it anymore, as they stopped. Azrael removed the golden hook with a growl, stepping away from the demon. And then just like that, they were gone]

[After a moment to process, the demon chuckled weakly to herself, her very existence now a painful one. The halo was spared, but it really wasn’t. The damage had already been done. But she had lived, and now she was going to keep on living]

[She had lived, and now she was going to keep on living. She liked that phrase. It felt very hopeful. Keep on living. She was gonna do that. She repeated it in her head as she giggled quietly to herself.]

[His form began to unravel, but he didn’t mind. He was gonna keep on living, and he was gonna do it well. Sometimes that meant sacrifices, was all]

[birdo-is-here]

Lucifer does some self-renovations while Enoch sits there and looks angry

word count: ~1800

trigger warning for quite a lot of blood and gore (specifically with the eyes) and also some brief talks about fetishes (skip over Asmodeus’ part if you don’t wanna read about that)

“I’ve been thinking of giving myself a mouth” Lucifer said, as if that was a completely normal thing to say. Technically, to him, it was.

The King of Demons was in his front office, sat at his desk. The room was rather simple in shape; a rectangle. The two shorter walls were covered in soft velvet. The wall behind Lucifer was a window looking out upon the eighth layer; A very, very large casino. The room was remarkably clean, with a rubbish bin in one corner, and a plant that reached the height of the ceiling in the other.

Lucifer stared into a mirror, paying no real mind to the man he spoke to.

Metatron— Or, well, Enoch, now— somehow managed to scowl further. Lucifer never really knew the man too well; a bit beyond his time, but he’d quickly discovered in the old guy’s presence that he loved to scowl.

“Please, I implore that you explain what that has to do with the situation at hand,” The human responded. Enoch was sat at a chair, on the other side of the desk, sort of as if the two were in a meeting. Of course, it was anything but.

Prometheus made a choked sound, his voice muffled under the desk. He sounded to be wheezing for a moment, before he finally managed to speak. Lucifer didn’t even look down; though of course Enoch looked confused as to where the voice was coming from.

“There is no ‘situation at hand’, he just says whatever the fuck he—“ The demon stopped short as Lucifer kicked a leg out, shoving it into Prometheus’ gut. He made an anguished sound that certainly seemed to hurt much more than one would expect.

Despite the rather cruel action, Lucifer spoke pleasantly, “thank you for your input, Prometheus.”

Prometheus coughed a bit, but he didn’t actually seem that phased, “yeahhappytohelp..”

Enoch seemed flummoxed, to say the least, “what was that…”

“No one of concern. An office pet, per say,” Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. He still studied himself in the mirror, as if planning a new make-up routine. It was a bit like a make-up routine, wasn’t it?

He ran a finger down the lower eyelid of the largest eye in the lower half of his face. There were three eyes there that would’ve been in the way of a mouth, “hmm… I’ll have to move those…”

In a rather abrupt, gore-ish series of actions, a knife was summoned into Lucifer’s hand and, in one motion, was stabbed into one of the demon’s eyes. He sucked in a pained breath as he tilted the knife to one side, still in his eye, and spooned the purple orb out of its socket.

Lucifer placed the knife on the table, nudging the piece of flesh onto the wooden surface. It looked a bit more red than purple, now. Dark red blood quickly began to seep into the wood. Well, that was the larger of the three eyes done.

His gaze finally flitted to Enoch. The man looked guarded, but the unnerve in his demeanour was easy to spot for someone with centuries of experience. Humour glinted in the King of Demon’s eyes as dark red blood began to trail down and off his face.

“Do you still have your… ‘ascended identity’, by the way?” The question didn’t really have to do with anything at all. He was just curious.

“… What do you mean by that?”

“Your pronouns.”

“Oh,” That high-and-mighty exterior wilted, just a little, “I… do not. Do all that. Anymore. I am a man again.”

Lucifer hummed, tilting his head at the other, “Y’know, people are gonna look at that and find some trangender-allegory type bullshit in it.”

Enoch scoffed. Lucifer found that subtle disgust in his tone very interesting. “That is entirely separate. This is different.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“This was God’s doing, it was actually… part of the plan.”

Lucifer hummed, nodding. He decided to humour the man. Truth was, he figured Enoch would fit in right well down here. The demon placed down the mirror on the desk, and a towel was put into his hand instead. He picked up the knife and began to clean it off.

A moment later, the towel was discarded and once again replaced by the mirror. Asmodeus looked back at him. The pink demon had a mischievous look to her, as she typically did. Then, she ducked back down past the mirror’s borders.

Lucifer placed the knife at another eye, and apparently Enoch found it appropriate to ask:

“Are you going to do this in front of me?” He sounded discomforted, and slightly bothered, as if Lucifer was simply inconveniencing him by stabbing out his own eyes. The demon looked back to the man, humour ever present in his gaze.

“Well, I thought you loved this sort of thing. That’s the sort of wind I always caught from Heaven.”

The discomfort grew, “... You would think wrong.”

“Oh, please,” A new voice spoke up; Asmodeus appeared, partially in the floor, next to Enoch’s seat, “you looooved it~ You were a total sadist for their suffering, weren’t you old man?”

Enoch sneered down at Asmodeus, disgusted. There was a bite to his words, “Do not bring your rancid assumptions into this. I would never partake in such acts.”

Asmodeus giggled, only spurred on by his anger. She sunk into the floor again, reappearing beside Lucifer — who had gone back to preparing to stab his own eye out. Asmodeus leaned her weight against the desk, still laughing to herself even as she spoke.

“Even if it wasn’t any fetish, babes, surely you can agree that some part of you enjoyed it.”

The human scowled. “No.”

She matched his tone, the laughter dissipating, “you’re so boring.”

Enoch sighed — it sounded closer to a growl, though, “I never held any opinion toward it. It was simply business.”

Lucifer perked up, then. He stabbed the knife into his eye as he spoke, “ah, like Hell’s own work, then?”

Whether it was the demon’s words, or him suddenly skewering his own eye, something seemed to catch Enoch slightly off-guard. His gaze sidled elsewhere, voice a little quieter, “Whatever you say.”

Asmodeus seemed to lose interest in the whole matter, sinking back down into the floor. As she did so, Mammon phased half-way through the wall, one hand on the soft velvet lining, as if there wasn’t a door to his left that he could’ve simply used. He regarded Enoch with a hungered interest for a moment, before looking to Lucifer, who’s skewered eyeball was now in hand.

“Belphegor is still hungry, for your information. It has started to complain again.”

“Let it go through Leviathan’s lair for a couple days, he’s started to get a bit overpopulated.”

On cue, Leviathan’s serpentine head appeared out of the ceiling, his voice a sing-song tone. Could a man not take out his own eyes in peace?

“That insatiable beast will not feast on my measly sum—~”

“Measly?!” Mammon chipped in. Enoch seemed exasperated already. Lucifer laughed internally at that, “Your conduct would be those suffering from thalassophobia and claustrophobia, you have no such ailments!”

“Don’t go calling the kettle black, teapot~” There was a tinge of aggression to his sweet tone. Leviathan waded in Mammon’s direction as he spoke. “Why don’t we send it after your lot, instead, then?”

“It ate from—!”

“Hey.” Lucifer finally spoke up, his tone hard. Both of them backed off remarkably quickly. The King of Demons waved a dismissive hand, his voice becoming casual again, though it still held a distinct taste of passive aggression, “Let’s not argue in my office, shall we? Go sort it out elsewhere.”

And, perhaps shockingly, they didn’t even argue. Leviathan backtracked into the ceiling, and Mammon ducked back out of the wall. Their muffled arguing could almost immediately be heard through the wall, but luckily their voices seemed to be quickly fading. Lucifer sighed.

“Can’t even have a moment to skewer my own eyeball, right?” Enoch didn’t even try to humour him, so he made a clicking noise and shot finger-guns at the man. The eye was still there. It was bleeding all over the desk. Gross.. Anyway.

Repeating the previous process, Lucifer nudged the eye onto the table and allowed it to join his other eye, before cleaning the knife off once again and angling it to point at the last eye.

“Hmm… Should’ve used a fork, now that I think about it…” He muttered it to himself. Enoch scoffed. Lucifer found it a little intriguing how the man never even bothered to try avert his gaze. He wondered if he thought the demon would do something if he tried not to watch.

He didn’t know if he would, to be fair. He liked the surprise of it all. Who KNOWS what he’d think of next?

“Are you planning to do anything with me?” Enoch spoke up. There was a hint, just a barely noticeable tinge of nervousness to his tone. Ah, the old man fears eternal torture? ..or would it be death? For him, Lucifer supposed death would make the most sense.

He didn’t like Death too much, either. Well, he tried not to, anyway. Before he could go down any of those rabbit holes, he did not respond.

..What, did you really expect him to risk giving away his plan like that? Hell, no. Even if he’d lied about it, the old sod would’ve just detected the lie and called him out on it. Instead, Lucifer simply stabbed himself in the eye one last time, yanking it out with a squelch. The demon didn’t even flinch this time, he never broke eye contact with the man.

Enoch cleared his throat, rephrasing his words. The unease suddenly grew more deliciously evident.

“Are you going to kill me?” Ah, there it was. So it was death, then.

Of course he wasn’t, that would’ve taken all the fun out of it. Death would have simply sent him to a different Hell. In a way, the man was already dead. He’d just simply skipped the… loss of life part.

Lucifer’s empty eye sockets closed, the odd skin texturing sealing over to make it look bare and empty. Then, it started to move again, the demon’s skin moving and contorting to create something strikingly reminiscent of a mouth.

And with his newly formed mouth, Lucifer still made no response. Instead, he smiled. It was a malicious, ill-intentioned grin that certainly would have told the man a plain and simple “yes.” .. Fortunately, it seemed the geezer could only detect mistruths in one’s words, and not so much actions. Very good.

He wondered if the man thought he was going to Heaven. He wouldn’t have been surprised, despite the guy’s apprehension. Humans tended to fear the things they loved so greatly. Just ask God.

[birdo-is-here]

ayee this one has a bit of lore behind it but not in the way you’d think!

This is Mary (she/her), she is based off the Mary Sue,,, trend?? stereotype?? idfk whatever Mary Sues were supposed to be Mary is kinda. supposed to be the personification of that

Now I babble quite a bit today so there’s a cut, but i’ve got some stuff to say about her

Now. First of all I want to say Mary is a muuuch older character of mine. I made her probably when I was 11 or 12, that’s at least 4 years ago

Here’s a fun fact about me, I had absolutely no critical thinking skills until maybe the age of 14 or mid-13s, and at the time I of course did not really realise the issues the entire Mary Sue thing had in general

Since those four years i’ve realised that I. really do not like the Mary Sue trope at aaallll. It is a very mean trope, simply making fun of young artists/writers for having fun with their characters, which obviously is not very good. As I stated, it feels very mean

Because of this, I’ve kind of wanted to scrap Mary’s entire base concept because like. well duh I don’t really want to make a character like that that just feels so. mean-spirited yk, i don’t wanna do that!! Art is art there are no rules to art you should be able to do whatever the hell you want with it as long as its not hurting others and that’s that!! Don’t bully people for experimenting with colours and styles and tropes!! That’s called being an Ass!

BUT DESPITE THIS. I could never fully scrap her!! Admittedly she had a counterpart for “Gary Stu” which. did get “scrapped”(in quotations because its a lore thing now wooo) But Mary?? I couldn’t get rid of her!! And very recently I think I realised why!!

For some context, Mary (and Gary) was originally from a story where there was a sort of. “spirit” for every known concept to exist, including the concept of Mary Sues and Gary Stues. That being said, Mary (and Gary,,) were basically the rulers of that universe because. need I say why. And they were also incredibly self-aware and could pretty much do whatever they wanted

Does this sound familiar at all?? To me, yep! Mary (and Gary,,,,,,,) was essentially the FIRST Off-Scripter I ever made!! before I ever even came up with the concept! Now, we all know that, chronologically, Naut’s the first Off-Scripter created but with my stories, we all know that chronological timelines aren’t the only timelines here

I think this is the sorta reason why Mary was never fully forgotten because like. that’s significant yk

So what have I chosen to do instead?? Well of course i’ve decided to lean into that Off-Scripter..ness about her A LOT more. I imagine that Author!Birdo probably had the same realisation that I had and tried to “scrap” her (and her universe, that story is probably gonna be scrapped im just not that interested in it anymore 🤷‍♀️ who knows i might get a burst of inspo tho) But! Mary is an Off-Scripter! And in typical Off-Scripter fashion simply decided. not to get scrapped (unlike her bf rip Gary 😔 haunting the narrative route for you)

And its gonna be a hell of a thing where like. Birdo is HELLA peeved about Mary’s existence because they hate it ygm. Just like me, Birdo doesn’t really want a character that feels so mean of a concept to exist in their universe, but alas?? Off-Scripter magic makes shit complicated again :(

Where we go from there?? I’m not too sure! I haven’t planned that far ahead I only came up with this stuff like. literally a couple days ago lol, but yeah there’s that

[birdo-is-here]

Pretty short this one, only about 400 words

In which Phanuel and Dabria accidentally show up in the middle of the start of a concert of sorts (that point where no one is on stage quite yet ygm)

Phanuel gets a bit of stage fright and also (mostly) a sensory overload

No TWs for this one i believe! As always, inform me if I am mistaken

Phanuel was on a stage, and he did not like that. He did not like that at all. He could practically see the innumerable number of eyes, feathers and staring faces. He could hear it all. He could hear it all.

It was too much. Even now, it was too much. He could hear them. He could hear their quiet judgement, their tauntings, their encouragement, their excitement, and their anger. It was still too much. He was never designed to be an archangel.

He heard some sort of clicking next to him, but he didn’t really notice it. He watched that crowd. He heard their confusion. It was loud. It was very loud.

The clicking might’ve grown a bit more incessant. But then, it stopped, as a weight was lifted off one of his shoulders. Something nudged at his leg. He took a small step away, but he didn’t take his gaze off of that crowd.

Suddenly, a dark, feathered face obstructed his view of the crowd. Hands grasped his shoulders, firm yet gentle. A voice spoke, directly in front of him.

“Phanuel! Hey— Hey, look at me” Dabria urged him, shaking him slightly. He forced himself to comply, focusing on Dabria. His feathers began to settle a little as his attention was dragged away from the audience.

“You’re alright. Keep looking at me. You’re okay. Let’s get out of here, I didn’t see anything.”

Phanuel’s voice caught in his throat. His feathers seemed to shrink a little, pulling themselves tight against his body.

He simply gave a small, distracted nod. Energy rose from and around him as the environment began to shift around them again, the stage melting away into something smaller, much quieter.

They were in a small room. A bedroom, maybe. Somewhere along those lines. There was a bed just behind him. Though at the same time there was also a fridge and a microwave on some cabinets. See, he was learning. He knew what fridges and a microwaves were, now.

He heard the muffled chatter of people all around him. But it was quiet, the majority of the people’s voices lowered. Phanuel, admittedly, didn’t take much time to consider it. Mostly because he started to feel his knees buckling beneath him.

He fell forward, though fortunately he did not get to fall far before Dabria caught him, allowing him to put his weight against her shoulder. He let himself go limp against her, Joseph flopping down in front of a few eyes as he did so.

“Sorry about that…” His voice was a little quieter. Dabria trilled.

“Truthfully, I was just waiting for that to happen. You haven’t gone dormant since we were at Michael’s.”

Phanuel hummed a response. Suppose that was true. “Also sorry about. The stage thing..”

Now it was Dabria’s turn to hum a response. A few of her eyes closed in consideration, before he felt her hand pat his back comfortingly.

“It’s no worries. You still need to rest, though.”

[birdo-is-here]

write me do that yes

in which Asmodeus makes a small error

word count: 780~

Asmodeus closed the door gently behind her, going almost agonisingly slow so that the door wouldn’t creak as she shut it. Of course, it still clicked as it latched onto the frame, but she doubted Leviathan would notice that – and there was no preventing that one, anyway.

Leviathan was always an odd one. He was so much larger than Asmodeus was and this room was so cramped, and yet he still seemed to manage this place without a hitch. She had to say it was her one true dream to see how exactly he managed it when his head could barely even fit inside.

The pink demon scanned the room from the door. There were dozens of nautical decor placed meticulously around the place with care; a miniature boat figurine and a ceramic siren on the front desk, a captain’s wheel mounted on the wall next to the window, a fish in a bowl in the corner of the room. The fish wasn’t moving, it may have been dead. To be fair, most things here were dead.

Even the room itself was clearly designed to look like a captain’s quarters. It was rather strange, there were so many pirate motifs and yet Asmodeus had never associated Leviathan with pirates once. Maybe he liked the aesthetic.

There were four lines of shelves on either side of the room, all filled with bottles containing tiny boats filled with water. That was curious. Asmodeus approached the nearest ship in a bottle, picking it off of the shelf. She turned it over in her hands.

The bottle was rather grimy, and the water terribly murky as well. The boat looked quite old and weary, it was a bit of wonder how it was holding together at all. The bottle was completely filled with the water, pretty much turning this sailing ship diorama into more of a shipwreck diorama. Maybe she could…

Asmodeus popped the caulk off the bottle, and tipped the water out onto the ship. The boat was a little too big to fall out, but apparently a human soul wasn’t.

Oh, fuck. Oh. Oh, these bottles were Hells. Whoops. Whoopsies. A daisy popped into her hand. Oopsy. Daisy.

The soul couldn’t exactly be described; it didn’t have an appearance. It was more that Asmodeus could feel the vague outline of it. It appeared to be dissociating a little. Or a lot. Probably understandable, she had no idea how long it had been in there.

She sort of waded in place, momentarily unsure what to do. Maybe this guy would like a change of scenery, she figured, as she reached out and bopped the soul downwards, sending it to her own layer.

Leviathan certainly would have felt all that. Uh oh. Time to find Lucifer.

“LUCIFEERRRRR I GOT A PROBLEMMMM” Asmodeus wailed. She was in the casino layer now; she hadn’t exactly seen the King of Demons yet but, hey, he’s usually here or in one of his mobile casinos. Whatever counts.

“AH?” See? Told you. Lucifer poked his head out from behind a row of slot machines.

“I made an oopsie :(“ Her voice naturally began to turn a much deeper, masculine tone as she spoke; which personally did not suit the general cutsie, infantile vibe she was going for right now, but she’d make do.

“What happen babes?!” The King of Besties fully stepped out from behind the slot machines, approaching the demon with some hustle.

“So. You know how Levi never lets anyone into his rooooom~”

“Yeeeesss~”

“And he said that if he were to catch anyone in his room he’d kill them personalllyyyy~”

“Did you go into his room baby giiiirrrlll~?”

“Mmmaayybeee,,, And I may have also accidentally broken one of his Heeeellllsss,,,,,”

Lucifer quit the bit of matching Asmodeus’ energy, straightening his posture slightly as he brought a hand to his face. He looked skywards, as if thinking. He hummed as well, to sell the charade.

After a moment, he dropped his hand to his hip, shifting his weight as he looked back to her.

“Alright, here’s what you’ll do… You simply. were not there!” He opened his arms in a ‘ta-da!’ gesture.

Asmodeus made an “ooh” noise. “You’re so right! Oh, how could I forget.. I was down here, gambling with you, the entire time..!”

Lucifer clapped his hands together. “Correct, love! Here, I’m even your alibi; We played Poker !” an ace of spades appeared in his hand, “You were never down there, but you’re soo terribly sorry for his loss~”

She nodded earnestly. “Mhm. Mhm. Such a tragic thing, losing one of your Hells.”

“It truly is, darling.”

[birdo-is-here]

Never stopped thinking about how Michael must’ve felt at first when he was teleported to Crimson’s place that one time most recently btw

Like okay now that we know that if an angel wants to teleport person A to them, then person A cannot be making physical contact with person B or else both A and B will be teleported, I can finally safely talk about this without spoiling

And like that whole teleportation thing also kinda brings a bit more perspective as to why Metatron kept requesting for Michael to move away from Apollyon when he was here, because he was trying to teleport Michael to him!!! Why??? I’m sure we can guess!

Michael was just oh so — rightfully — terrified that Metatron was going to hurt him again even after he got dragged away so he just clung to Apollyon like there was no tomorrow because he knew Metatron wasn’t about to teleport a human directly into Heaven even if he found the situation as dire as he did

and then he eventually goes to sleep after having to be assured multiple times by Apollyon that they weren’t going to leave him, only to wake up later on because he sensed that Apollyon wasn’t there anymore and of course Michael having just woken up and having yet to process his surroundings or anything happening at all immediately assumes the worst BECAUSE WHO WOULDN’T

And it's just that brief but oh so painful moment of dread, panic, fear and even a bit of betrayal because in his mind it's like Apollyon must’ve left him despite what they told him and now he was going to suffer again and there wouldn’t be any possible way out of it this time

but then he finally realises the ground is made of wood and not polished tile, and the walls and the ceilings are much closer and they’re not ethereal and white and perfect they’re just… walls. And a ceiling.

[birdo-is-here]

woop woop

word count is about 600 words, short and (not very) sweet this one

trigger warnings for animal harm, and some blood as well. Also some stuff with paranoia?? not sure if that needs to be tagged but yeah, if i missed any lemme know pls /srs

ends a bit abruptly this one but wehh

Kitsch studied the Deer across the room from him, as he had been for a couple cycles now. He was still trying to figure out how exactly it got here.

Maybe he was hallucinating now. That would certainly explain a lot. Nevermind how real it felt and acted.

It chewed at the wooden floorboards as if there were grass there. Add that to his list of evidence that it wasn’t real. Deers don’t do that. Deers don’t typically end up in a hotel room a few floors up, regardless of any given time loop.

Robotically, he sat up, his gaze still fixated on the animal. It flicked an ear in acknowledgement of his movement, but showed little other reaction. Yeah, he’d take that as more evidence. He stood up, out of bed, with a groan. His bones creaked and ached from the lack of use. Everything got slightly more blurry. He didn’t mind, this happened a lot.

He slowly approached the Deer. It finally raised its head as he approached, regarding him impassively. He extended a hand to it, feeling the too-long, wolf-like fur along its neck. It felt real. It felt real. But how did he know?

His grip tightened on it, nails digging into the skin under the thick fur, hand pulling at the hair itself. For a second, the Deer still showed no reaction, almost convincing him of his suspicions.

Then it opened its jaw, and it had a full set of canine teeth. Suddenly, those teeth were in the space between his neck and his left shoulder, biting into him with an iron grip.

Kitsch let out a cry of agony, his hand pulling chunks of fur out as it was retracted from the animal, trying to pull his body away. He felt its hold tighten in response— –

Kitsch awoke in his bed again, another loop wasted. His shoulder was newly healed – well, ehh, not quite. It was never struck in the first place now, technically. Still, the phantom pain remained, as it would for perhaps a couple more hours now.

Strange. Hallucinations aren’t usually able to kill you. Or at least, severely wound you. He looked to the Deer — Yep, still there. It was watching him now, perhaps a little cautiously. The fur on the side of its neck was still matted and slightly bloodied.

Wait, no. That. Didn’t make sense. How was it still injured?

He sat up again, and this time its ears pricked up attentively. He decided not to move any more, just in case it chose to run off instead of attacking him again. He didn’t want it to leave yet.

Surely, it couldn’t be real. That wouldn’t make any sense. He’d been stuck in this time loop for how long and never once had he even seen a deer like this one. Aside from the unnatural things about it – the pure white eyes, the long fur, the teeth – he was quite certain this type of deer was from Africa. He was in Canada.

“... How are you real..?” His voice was hardly a whisper, tinted with confusion and even a little fear. Maybe this was some trick. Surely. It had to be. That was the only explanation.

The Deer made little response. As it always did. It still seemed to be on high alert.. He wondered if it could understand him… Probably not. He scoffed a little at the thought, in hindsight. Yeah, most likely not. It’s an animal.

“I… Apologise. I thought you.. weren’t real” He wasn’t entirely sure why he chose to apologise anyway. Perhaps he was desperate to find humanity in this thing.

Very desperate, in fact, because he could have sworn he saw it relax, ever so slightly.

[birdo-is-here]

Naut lore dump below because I can and I love this weird looking squid

I was originally planning to properly write out the scene here but after several days of me getting a maximum of 40 words down, I decided i’d just explain what happens

Besides, the way his backstory is revealed is second-handedly so I wouldn’t usually have to write it anyway

Warning this is quite long don’t feel pressured to finish it immediately lmao, I also ramble for bits of it but I eventually get on track

Well. Speaking of squids, here’s a fun fact: Nautilus wasn’t always the squid man he is right now, did you know?

Actually, he looked like a normal human man at first, kinda long, curled hair with a darker skin tone. Just kinda a guy yk

What happened, you may ask? Well, i’ll get into that soon

Here’s another fun fact: Nautilus was the first Off-Scripter. Ever.

When he first popped up as an Off-Scripter, Birdo wasn’t entirely sure what to do with him. Taking her chances, she kinda just decided to… leave him be for the time being until something happened

Nautilus has always been a pirate. Even before he became the inter-dimensional one he is now, he was a normal pirate then as well. Now, his universe is from the 12th century, but that’s because that universe is what I call an “Early Bloomer”, which is fairly self explanatory. It’s a universe that is aging relatively faster than the others for whatever reason is given.

So currently for Naut’s universe, while it’s the 12th century, it’s really closer to the 17th - 18th century. Early and Late Bloomers are actually quite common in The Birdhouse, and are usually just left to their own devices to develop

Now, back on topic, you may be asking: How did Naut become an Off-Scripter? And my response to that is: No one knows! Not even Birdo knows, it’s a completely random and unknown phenomenon which can happen to anyone for any reason; intentionally or not (though it’s usually unintentional)

And here’s where an issue arises: When it was just Naut as the sole Off-Scripter, it was mostly fine. His own universe had a few… odd moments, but they were usually able to be steered back on course pretty easily.

That is, until more Off-Scripters began appearing over the multiverse. And so, Birdo acted accordingly. Well, only really on Nautilus first as a sort of “test subject” to see how their little method would go. What’s this method, you ask?

Well. While Birdo couldn’t directly get rid of an Off-Scripter, he could make the environment around the Off-Scripter inhabitable. Bring an indirect death on the Off-Scripter through storms, natural disasters, and for some reason, lots of water.

Basically, Birdo sent a storm of flood and fire on Nautilus’s universe in an attempt to kill him, figuring that if no corner of the universe was left untouched, there would be nowhere for him to go, and he’d die.

Fortunately, that did not work. At all. It certainly rendered Naut’s home dimension uninhabitable! In fact, there was not a single survivor in the entire universe. Twas not an infinite universe, that one, and there for it had a finite number of inhabitants. Well, not a single survivor save for Nautilus.

In the midst of the flood and chaos, Naut, still a human at the time, instinctively tried to save his own life in the quickest way he knew how at the time: He turned himself half squid. Well, half squid is debatable, he is some sort of cephalopod-adjacent humanoid creature

Now, previously, Naut did know he was not a ‘normal guy’, ykwim?? He knew he was an Off-Scripter, and had a natural knowledge of the multiverse to accompany that. Honestly, he’d mostly just been trying to live his life as a pirate back then, trying to ignore the big picture and keep to what he’s comfortable with (I get it bestie), but unfortunately, there’s never been a time where a good thing has lasted forever

What I mean to say without rambling is, Nautilus did have a general knowledge of Birdo and the other Founders, but never really paid much attention to them.

Until Birdo of course.

Naut, distraught and utterly traumatised; having nearly drowned in the floods before going squid, eventually spotted the culprit of his universe’s downfall

He confronted them on the elephant in the room that is killing his entire dimension, and Birdo explained the situation. They explained the problem with the Off-Scripters and what they had originally planned, and Naut asked if it was worth it to wipe out his entire reality, literally

Birdo waves it off, saying they can just make a new one and start over, which only pisses Naut off more, asking what’d happen to him and his home. Birdo explains that the universe will likely have to be cleaned up and absorbed by The Null (the Birdhouse’s garbage disposal)

They then go on to say, suddenly disappearing from sight, that they’re gonna give the “execution method” one last try, but do something a little more direct this time

Birdo then reappears in a form a little more menacing; An almost spirit-like, tall figure that looks similar to the small, robed creature Naut saw originally, only this time exaggerated to appear terrifying and divine; like the god they actually were

Naut is knocked over by an odd force, and he looks up to see Birdo brandishing a large spear, pointed directly at him. Their eyes are unreadable in this instance; Large, green inhuman eyes.

Nautilus is terrified, of course he is, he’s about to did, but… he doesn’t find himself doing much to fight back. I mean, think about it, he’s just lost everything he’s ever known, what point is there in going on, anyway? It’s best to just let the god get what she wants.

And so, while he raises an arm and prepares himself for his doom, he doesn’t do anything. Birdo watches him, studying his expressions, spear hovering in the air a moment longer… before she sighs, and lowers the spear to her side. She mutters something about how it “probably won’t work anyway”, her form growing slightly less imposing as she glances away from Nautilus.

And then, Birdo seems to dissipate into nothing. They disappear again, though permanently this time, their voice styaing a moment longer, mumbling almost disappointedly “do whatever you want, I don’t care that much honestly”

Naut took a moment to wonder if the god of this world was a teenager in disguise, before he stood again.

He looked out over the burnt, waterlogged husk of a world that was his home, and his brows furrowed. He hated Birdo with every fibre of his being. He hated all the Founders for allowing this.

But he decided to follow Birdo’s suggestion just this once: He was going to do whatever he wanted, and hell, he wanted to be a pirate

End of writing lore dump notes: If you’re wondering, yes he is afraid of water after this experience. Quite a lot, actually:(

[birdo-is-here]

also some writing I did, in which Phanuel and Dabria liberate a zoo

written from third-person perspective because why not

word length is 1390, no TWs that i can find! (let me know if i’ve missed any)

Phanuel manifested amidst a very crowded area. He looked around, taking in what he could of his surroundings that weren’t obscured by the bustling chatter of the human form. He was on some sort of flat, stone-esk path, likely built by humans. Hm, actually. As he looked around, he figured most of the things here were human-made.

Phanuel himself had made sure to take it upon himself to go incognito. Especially considering… recent events. He took the form of a blond-haired human with white highlights, because even if he was trying to be discreet he couldn’t possibly give up his theme – even if the colours had to be inverted. He wore some ‘denim jeans’ and an article of clothing he’d heard called a ‘letterman jacket’ atop a vibrant yellow ‘t-shirt’. All those funny human words.

Around him he figured were different types of fences: some metal and jutting out of the ground with more, muuuch longer metal bars running horizontally across the beams as support, creating some sort of grid pattern. Other fences were entirely clear – so clear he almost thought they weren’t there, but he wasn’t gonna be fooled twice by these dastardly demons supposedly called glass. The ‘glass’ ones were rather tall, and reinforced by wooden rims and beams.

Past the fences seemed to mimic several different natural environments. Admittedly, Phanuel only recognised a few of them. He saw animals resting in the trees and on the floors of the spaces, though!

A familiar, clawed, terribly feathery, figure landed on his shoulder, trilling something in his very human ear. He recognised the trills to be from the lovely Dabria, who seemed to be telling him not to stand in the middle of the road.

“Joke’s on you, I can’t even remember what a ‘road’ is,” The process of moving the lips to fit one’s speech was terribly redundant. He didn’t know why humans bothered with it.

Dabria made a small sound of disgruntlement. Just move to one side of the stone slab on the floor, it translated. He did as much, before finally doing what he had come here to do.

He scanned the environment, taking careful consideration not to have his head do a 360 degree turn, because apparently that wasn’t very natural for humans. And yet ‘glass’ was, he understood. Makes sense.

There were no signs of Jesus in the immediate vicinity, but he did pick up some other divine aura. Strange, he picked up quite a few divine auras, actually. They all seemed to be past the fences, but… lower. Underground, perhaps.

Dabria seemed to pick up on it as well, releasing a nervous scree. He could sympathise with her worries; most types of divine auras would mean bad news for them now. Still, Phanuel was a terribly curious angel. Fallen angel? Heaven-assigned fallen angel, he figured was closest. He didn’t really like to think about that too much.

He veered his attention back to the divinities underground. They seemed angelic, at least. Well, actually, that would be worse now, wouldn’t it… Hm. Anyway.

Phanuel approached the closest group of humans, waving to them in a very human fashion.

“Hello fellow humans! I must ask, is there anything underground?” For some reason Dabria did the owl equivalent of exclaiming her exasperation, which hurt Phanuel’s poor human ears, by the way.

The humans exchanged momentarily confused glances, before one of them responded, “uuuuhh… I guess there’s the underwater exhibit? Is that what you’re after?”

“Maybe! How would one get there?”

“Oh, it’s.. The entrance is just behind you, I believe,” Another pointed somewhere behind Phanuel, where he spotted a stairwell going down into the ground. There was an incredibly blue sign labelled ‘FISH AND FUN’ with a smaller sign next to the entrance that read ‘Come see the swimming harpies!’

Phanuel bid the humans farewell, before heading for the stairwell. As they got within typical eyeshot, Dabria released a small hoot. Harpies, she repeated the sign, once again slightly exasperated. Phanuel didn’t really know what those were.

When he expressed as much, Dabria gave another, slightly longer hoot. Mythological creatures. Not real at all. I think I can guess what those ‘harpies’ are supposed to be. He hummed, his attention drifting to the stairwell as he reached it. He hovered at the entrance a moment, though he was quickly ushered forward by a very impatient owl on his shoulder.

Inside was some sort of long human-made cave with rounded corners. Just ahead of him was more ‘glass’, barricading him from a very large, water-filled exhibit that held many, many scaled creatures of varying sizes. He recalled them to be the ‘fish’, if he wasn’t wrong.

There were also angels inside. About six or seven that he could see.

Oh that’s a problem actually. He momentarily stumbled back, preparing to leave the underwater exhibit before they noticed him and Dabria, but then he noticed something.

..Oh, they were Guardians. They had the odd scarf-like accessory to show as much. He debated his chances that they were unaware of the most recent news.

“Angels! Wherefore hast thou soggied yourselves?!” He called in a foreign language, in a way any human would not be able to hear. Dabria squawked very loudly in his ear. ARE YOU STUPID, she exclaimed, though Phanuel doubted he really needed to translate that one.

The angels looked over. A few of them were on the ‘sea’bed, resting gracefully on some rocks and slopes. Others were actually out swimming, playing in the currents. It was immediately obvious that they were trying to be dramatic about it, as if they were putting on some sort of show.

Their forms were distorted by the effect of the water, but it was easy to see how soaked they were – as one would be when spending all your time underwater. He wondered how heavy their feathers would be when they stepped out of the water.

“What?” The closest one replied. She had a sort of mustard-coloured halo, slightly distorted by the water just like her body. Fortunately, she didn’t immediately jump up to go apprehend him on sight, so he’d take any win he could get.

“Why are you in the water?” He clarified. Honestly he didn’t know where he learnt that other dialect.

“Oh! Uuuuh… it’s fun!”

“Oh, okay!”

Well that settles that, Phanuel thought. But then Dabria decided she wasn’t quite satisfied. Ask them if anyone knows what they actually are, she cooed. He repeated the bird’s question to them.

“The CEO does! And some other employees!” One called. “We’re working as interns!” Said another.

“Woah! I don’t know those words, but okay!”

Why would they be working as interns? Are they getting paid?

“Are you getting paid for it?”

“No! Mr. CEO man said we can stay to guard this place as long as we work as attractions!” One further up the back contributed.

Dabria made a rumbling noise of uncertainty. Phanuel didn’t really know any of these words, but he was happy to be here. She began to screech quietly again, giving quite a spiel of information for Phanuel to translate across.

“Okay— Have you ever heard of this thing called a union?”

“A bit! Not enough, though! What is that?”

“It’s this thing where like— You get money for your work, right?”

“Nah!”

“Well the.. Typical human gets money for their work, right?” He couldn’t really remember what money was all the time. It was brought up a lot, though, so he figured he’d have to get familiar with it.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah that happens!”

“You’re doing a work right now, and you’re not getting any money! And why would you need to intern for being a.. zoo attraction?”

Many of them hummed in strange unison. “That’s true! And we can get cool things with money!”

“Yes! . .. y. yes?” He looked to Dabria, who nodded in confirmation. “Yes!”

“Wooow! Oh, well– let’s go on strike!”

They said it very cheerfully, the one who spoke clasping her hands together in front of her torso. A moment later, all the angels were teleported out of the tank, and Phanuel heard screams of shock and a bit of fear upstairs.

Dabria bopped him on the head with a wing. Job well done, we should probably go before chaos erupts.

“Yes!” He replied with finality.

Truth be told, he didn’t know what he just did, but he enjoyed the validation from the owl. The scene began to change around him as he teleported away.

[birdo-is-here]

Here’s a fun fact: Lucifer and Michael have always and will always get along splendidly

U yeah here’s a bit of writing set some time in the past . another fun fact, Michael used to be quite the asshole

Written in the rp format bc we gettin silly w it

no warnings for this one I don’t think? Lemme know if I missed any pls

OHHH LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN. [Lucifer placed his arms behind his back as he sauntered over to Michael, a mean sneer already forming on his face] Having fun slaughtering my people you twattish pig—

[Michael returned his aggression with a similar fire, his feathers immediately beginning to bristle]

Your “people” are sinful, wild beasts who best deserve to be put down by—

[Lucifer snarled, suddenly advancing on Michael. Michael’s javelin appeared in his hand, causing the demon to halt, though he still seemed ready to attack at any moment]

GOD YOU. FUCKING. SAY THAT, DON’T YOU?

Your demons are fucking lucky to be getting rescued by the likes of me—

[The demon balled his fists, squaring up to the angel.] KEEP BLOODY TALKING RIGHT NOW WE’LL SEE HOW IT GOES

OI

[Both of them faltered as the new voice joined the fray. Oh, right. Azrael was still here]

[Azrael didn’t seem particularly bothered by the argument; granted, it was a common occurrence. They more seemed annoyed by the distraction]

Would you two shut up for two minutes please? I’m trying to work.

[The pair backed off, albeit very begrudgingly. Michael seemed to literally vibrate with rage, an oddly cat-like growl continuously escaping its throat. It did not take long for Lucifer to point it out]

What are you gonna turn into a fucking car and drive away?? Gonna go vroom vroom?? you fuck

What the hell even IS a car ASSHOLE

MAYBE YOU’D KNOW IF YOU WEREN’T SO—

‘AY WHAT I SAY

[They backed off again. Glares were still exchanged. Michael continued to growl, though it was quieter now]

Michael, you do need to calm down. Lucifer, cars haven’t even been invented yet, you’re too early. He has a perfectly good reason to not know what a car is.

[Lucifer huffed] Skill issue if y—

Shhhut. up. Shut up. Both of you. The conversation is over.

[Michael followed their orders — Lucifer eventually did as well. He wasn’t entirely sure what gave them the right to decide what he should be doing; Who was the Supreme Archangel here? Still, he didn’t argue.]

[birdo-is-here]

decided to write the typical Azrael-taking-dead-souls experience

written in a second-person perspective because we stay silly

warnings for death of course and also some descriptions of body horror

You have died.

That much was immediately obvious. It didn’t exactly take rocket science to figure out, especially considering you’d found yourself standing over your own deceased corpse.

You decided it was best not to look down at your own lifeless form. It didn’t matter too much anyway, as the scenery around you had suddenly changed to a misty, dark forest.

You looked down again, to see if your corpse had followed you, and all that was below you was nothing. Absolute nothing.

You still found it best not to look down.

There was something perched in the trees, watching you. It seemed humanoid, but you could also make out a pair of dark, feathered wings behind it. It had so, so many eyes. A ring of blue light glowed dimly above it.

Why, it had to be an angel. Or perhaps some sort of demon, posing as such a creature of light.

“You’re rather quick to figure things out, aren’t you?” It spoke with an abnormal casualty for the exquisite ethereality this creature held within itself. It almost felt wrong, to see such a thing reduced to something so… human.

You had never spoken once, but the figure tilted its feathered head at you, as if you’d spoken every single thought aloud.

“It’s time for you to go,” The entity’s voice was impassive. You didn’t want to go.

“Most don’t, but you don’t get a choice in this situation” Weren’t you already here anyway?

“This is only the barest of beginnings. Currently you stand at the threshold. You’re not even in the room yet, you may as well be standing in the doorway into another house.” You wanted to go back.

“You don’t get to do that. You’ve had your chance at life. How did you spend it?”

You wished you could go back. You prayed for a chance to try again.

“So you’re unsatisfied?” It laughed, “You’d be shocked at how many are, especially those who die before the age of 60.”

The creature descended from the tree, suddenly inches away from you. It had an innumerable number of small wings wrapped around its head, obscuring much of its face.

“Do not pray, human. There’s no one here to answer those anymore.”

And then the wings unwrapped from its head, exposing its face. It had too many eyes. Oh, so many eyes. More than before. Too many. But who were you to decide was ‘too many’? Who were you to believe you had any sort of authority over this… thing?

And then, the entity’s face opened, the skin splitting into five segments and peeling back. A ghastly, abhorrent flower of light blossoming in such a nightmarish, magnificent way.

Red-stained teeth rimmed the edges of its mouth. It almost looked like a star, the inside of its face now glowing the same blue light its halo did.

You could only marvel in the horrific beauty of it all as it consumed you.

[birdo-is-here]

Hello laddies uhhhh the autism won, have a long post containing the world-building for my ocs

First of all, it is MUCH bigger than just one universe. More a multiverse, but it sometimes even goes into other multiverses (not often tho)

It’s like the MCU, but better because its made by me /hj

Anyway, here you will find an EXTREMELY simplified version of the general layout of the multiverse:

Imagine a circle. That is a universe.

Now imagine an infinite number of that circle inside a larger circle. That is a multiverse. Wow!! However, circles do not tessellate, so that leaves some blank space in between the circles. That is called “null space” (very creative, I know)

This is just the layout of The Birdhouse, aka the multiverse we’re focusing on

THE OTHER MULTIVERSES!! AKA THE OMNIVERSE EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE SYNONYMS DONT THINK ABOUT IT

There are many different multiverses with all types of names and shapes that couldn’t possibly be simplified or comprehended by the human mind (or in other words: I don’t wanna draw)

There are an infinite number of multiverses each with their own sets of rules and laws (or lack-there-of). Many have “leaders” of sorts that “run” the multiverse (or make it seem as if they run it, at least)

On occasion you will find Strays who were either born outside of a multiverse or have abandoned their multiverse for whatever reason.

A good example of this would be 3p (my sibling’s character, hello Rebekah), who happens to be a deserter of war (yes war still happens in the omniverse it’s rather sad) and has therefore been kicked from her multiverse. L

Another example would also be one of mine known as Glitch, who was created outside of the multiverses and ended up moving into The Birdhouse. These creatures specifically can be known as Viruses or Parasites, either work rlly

Basically, the best way to simplify ALL of the multiverse/the omniverse is that they cannot be simplified.

You may be asking, are there other Omniverses? Probably! But I will NEVER be looking into that because that overcomplicates things much more than they already are and I also don’t need to need any more infinitesimal anyway!!

THE BIRDHOUSE

Of course, The Birdhouse has a “leader” — or, an Artist/Writer — who is known none other than Birdo (I’d say it’s not me but… it is. There’s no avoiding it, it’s just straight up me but I have an excuse for it and that is the fact that i am the artist/writer of these stories so it works)

However, because there are no rules and shit, The Birdhouse also has Co-Writers/Co-Artists, who are known as Crown and Pan (Believe it or not, they’re not based on anyone I know)

Birdo being the head of the multiverse as well as the original founder, has the most control of the script and story. Crown and Pan have some level of control over the script, but not to the amount Birdo does. They can also get in trouble if they directly go against Birdo’s plans, fun!

Birdo also has control of The Birdhouse’s general defenses, as well as who gets in and out.

Pan’s level of expertise is based on the general concept of “space & time”, and is basically the physical representation of such. He can bend space and time to his will with very little consequence.

Crown’s job is much more personalised, being the personification of just… sentience, ig. I’d say humanity, but it goes much further than just humans! So just… anything with a conscience and soul (that does include plants and allat, btw)

Of course, not everything is run by just these three, they’ve also got some other Helpers to fill in smaller roles, as well as their “children”

The Writers have, as of right now, 7 living children (and 1 “deceased”, but we’ll look into xem later) known as Nightingales.

Birdo has three: Neo, the eldest, and Tali and Novo, who are twins.

Pan has two: Thyme and Speise, with Thyme being slightly older than Speise.

And finally, Crown has two (TECHNICALLYTHREE): Regi, Grimley and Lite (dead :( )

The Nightingales were initially created to help out with the roles of the Writers.

- Neo helps Birdo with the general defenses of The Birdhouse + some general activities

- Tali is in charge of the borders between universes, basically being the weird little creature in the wall between rooms in the house.

- Novo is essentially the multiverse’s garbage disposal and local hazmat suit guy, absorbing rotting universes (we’ll get into those later) before they can infect any others, he has complete control over the Null Space

- Thyme oversees the management and flow of time itself

- Speise oversees the management of space itself

- Regi manages “life” before birth, or beforelife (kinda like the Jerries from Soul)

- Grimley, as opposed to Regi’s job, manages the afterlife (or more specifically, the safe passage to a universe’s respective afterlife)

- Lite, when alive, managed the lives (or lack thereof) of conscient souls (after their death Crown took over this role)

There are also Helpers, who are either:

- Inhabitants of a universe that have been taken out by a Nightingale (normally Neo) and changed both physically and/or mentally to suit the role they have been given.

- Created to suit the role they have been given. These ones are usually much less “human” in many ways, but do still tend to have a touch of humanity to them.

- Examples of Helpers would be: The Therapist, Interviewer, Reporter, Narrator, Cameraman, Gift Giver (hello cjrp community), Delivery Man and the Milkman.

IN-MULTIVERSE UNIVERSES (aka brush-strokes)

Inside the multiverse can be described as nothing other than “organised chaos”

There is an unknown number of universes that are potentially infinite, but nobody really knows. Not even the Writers! (mainly bc I don’t wanna overcomplicate things getting into the probabilities of infinity, so why not make it unknown)

Of course there are alternate universes, however they are a bit separate from other universes.

Let’s picture it like this: Each timeline is a single line headed in one direction. You will not find any AUs on any one timeline, however each AU has its own line/timeline of events.

You can travel across AUs, but it has to be deliberate. You have to be clearly thinking in your head “I want to go to the ___ AU” as you are universe-hopping.

Travelling through universes is surprisingly easy provided you have the right tools/knowledge. Some universes can have a small rip/fracture in reality that allows for easy passage to other universes, others may just need a certain inter-dimensional tool obtained one way or another to universe-hop. A small number may even have just a doorway to the other universe.

If there’s one thing that always happens when travelling, is that the hopper will always AT LEAST catch a glimpse of Tali’s domain (remember what I said about Tali basically being a little creature that lives in your walls?)

Hopping is essentially the equivalent to phasing through your wall to reach another room. Sometimes there are doors to reach the other room as well, but they are EXTREMELY rare. Looking into Tali’s domain is basically the equivalent of briefly seeing the inside of your drywall as you pass through.

Sometimes people may be a little stupid and try to do the universal equivalent of taking a sledgehammer to the wall and breaking it. Using the wall analogy, it doesn’t seem too bad, but this isn’t actually just a wall. It’s the actual confines of reality here, so it doesn’t actually go that well and usually results in all universes affected having to be absorbed by Novo’s Null Space if they aren’t dealt with by Tali and/or Speise soon enough.

If reality is broken beyond repair for one reason or another in a universe, it may start to shatter and break, causing it to become unstable and soon begin to rot. A rotting universe isn’t very good news, as that rot will spread to other stable universes and begin breaking them up too. Fortunately that’s why we have Novo, who manages the rotting universes and absorbs them before they become a liability.

INHABITANTS, + OTHERS

Back to the Nightingales for a moment, they also have some stuff!

In The Birdhouse, there are Proxies of the Nightingales. Proxies don’t do THAT much, they’re basically just representatives for the Nightingales whenever they themselves aren’t there.

Each Nightingale can have up to 3 Proxies (however they usually just keep it at 1) Proxies aren’t mandatory, so some go without having Proxies unless the opportunity strikes. Proxies must be extremely trusted allies of the Nightingales, and must also be members of The Birdhouse only.

Inhabitants tend to get a lot from becoming a Proxy! They get to summon their respective Nightingale on command, are sometimes able to commune with their Nightingale telepathically, and basically earn free protection from some deities.

When Inhabitants find a way to universe-hop easily, they may choose to become something known as a Hopper (so creative, ik), who basically travels the universes for whatever reason they have.

There are also Off-Scripters, who are an EXTREMELY rare group of people/not people who will deviate from the script Birdo has set. They’re generally very annoying to deal with for Birdo, as well as some Helpers such as the Narrator or the Cameraman. These guys are generally extremely self-aware and less serious characters.

There are ALSO also Part-time Off-Scripters, who only SOMETIMES deviate from the script. These guys can be even more annoying for Birdo, because he never knows WHEN they’re gonna fuck shit up for her. They’re also a bit more commonly found than full Off-Scripters, but still very rare.

That’s all I can think of for now! I’ll reblog this with new info or forgotten info over time, but this is the chunk of it :) Also if u have questions feel free to ask

[birdo-is-here]

wahoo, have some writing :)

word count: 2600 (roughly)

TWs: it gets,, quite graphic in the first part. Lets see, major character death, descriptions of gun wounds, QUITE a lot of blood, and some mentions of suicide, if you can’t handle it please don’t hesitate to skip ahead or stop reading entirely!! Keep yourself safe first ^^ (also let me know if I missed any tws, i can be stupid sometimes)

The floor almost looked like it had been painted substandardly in red. A metallic stench hung in the air, shallow breathing being all that was audible.

Sprawled across the tile, coated in her own blood, was that poor little girl. Three gunshot wounds had embedded themselves in her body, one at the shoulder, another in the chest, and the last near the base of the neck. That asshole couldn’t even bother to be a good shot with it.

A few metres away was her mother, having met a similar fate; only this time there was one bullet hole, placed almost directly in the centre of her head. She laid face-up, eyes dull and lifeless.

The culprit stood hunched over in the kitchen, supporting himself on the countertop. His breathing came out ragged and hollow.

Loe watched the scene before him, a contemplative expression on his face. His eyes sidled over to his left, where Gavin stood. An idea lit up in his head.

“Very sad, isn’t it?” Loe began.

“Very.”

“Imagine if… For some unknown reason unbeknownst to us, Ophelia just… woke up for a little?”

“That would certainly be a horrible mistake on our part,”

“Wouldn’t it! But alas… No man is perfect,”

Loe stepped forward in the direction of the mother. Stopping next to her, he leaned over and hovered two fingers over her eyes. He saw Gavin’s cane change into something resembling more of a bat, which was placed against the wall very near Ophelia. Loe rested his fingers over the bottom lids of her eyes, not quite touching the sclera.

A golden liquid – ichor – fell from her top eyelids onto her eyes, covering them. The woman suddenly blinked, discarding the excess ichor.

“Whoops,” Loe stated matter-of-factly. The woman then drew in a breath, sharp and quick, her eyes darting around the space.

She saw the blood around her. So much blood. Its horrid stench filled the air, assaulting her nostrils. She remembered. She remembered it all. That man. That godawful, hellacious, disgusting man.

And then she saw the bat.

It was placed almost perfectly, just in her field of view. It sat there, tempting. Willing her to take it.

Ophelia sat up, and took hold of the bat. It was red and white, made of a material she did not know. She did not care. It was heavy, but light enough to hold. To brandish.

She stood, a wave of nausea came over her and she had to lean against the wall to keep her balance. And then she saw him. He was hunched in the kitchen, back to her.

“You…” Her voice was hardly a whisper, barely audible. It was loud enough to speak volumes in the silence, however.

The man whipped around at her voice immediately. There was a new look in his eyes. Fear. He was afraid. She did not care. She was going to kill that man.

“How… How are you alive?!” He exclaimed. He stumbled back, an arm raised protectively. Ophelia continued her slow advance on him, slowly raising the bat she gripped.

On the counter, not far from the man, was the gun. He was probably going to kill himself. She would not allow him that kind of closure. Not if she was here.

“I’m going to kill you,” She said simply. She didn’t even realise she’d said it. Rage rose in her, stronger now. More pungent, if you will.

Ophelia pushed herself off the wall towards the man, raising the bat threateningly. He hardly had time to blink before the bat was being brought down on the space between the shoulder and the neck. He was on the floor immediately. He hadn’t even been able to say anything. Ophelia did not stop. She raised the bat again.

And finally, long after he had gone still, did she stop. The bat, now bloodied, clattered to the floor beside her.

Her head began to hurt immensely. A dull, stinging sensation. It was cold.

Ophelia then saw her daughter, coated in her own blood on the floor. She was completely limp, long dead. Her daughter. Her baby. Her beautiful girl.

Something warm trailed down her cheeks from her eyes. It was probably tears, but she could’ve sworn she saw a bright, opaque yellow. It didn’t matter to her though. Everything was dead. And she would soon follow.

Ophelia stumbled towards her daughter. Julie. Her baby. Her Julie.

“Julie, I’m so sorry…” It came out hoarse, broken. Hardly audible. She could barely move. The pain seared in her forehead, getting worse at the second as she felt her energy draining away like water.

She half-fell to the bloody floor next to Julie, wrapping an arm around her lifeless body. It was cold. She would have to turn the heater on tonight.

Ophelia was in a room.

It was a fairly nice room, maybe one you’d find in an office.

It also had that distinctly office smell about it, the one only offices and liminal spaces could achieve. The walls were white with several paintings and photos placed around to make it seem more homey. She was sitting in front of a desk, with an empty office chair on the other side. The floor seemed carpeted, a nice dull grey.

And then there was a man in the office chair. Ophelia didn’t realise when he’d got there. Was he always there?.. No, then the chair wouldn’t have been empty. Maybe he teleported. He didn’t have all his attention on her, instead focusing on a few papers in his hands. She waited patiently for the man to speak.

“Hey, Ophelia,” He said. It was rather casual, as if greeting a friend or neighbour. He finally looked up at her, a small smile formed on his lips. His face was glittered with gold specks. He seemed middle-eastern, maybe Iraqi or Jewish. The weirdest part about him though was the golden halo that hung over his head.

“Hello,”

“My name is Loe. Do you know where you are?”

“No, not really,”

“Thought sooo…” Loe trilled, returning his attention to the papers. He wrote something down that Ophelia couldn’t quite make out, then looked back up to her. “So ‘Phelia, what do you last recall?”

She paused, thinking. Or trying to, at least. If her mind was swimming already, it would’ve started floundering in the water trying to think back. She couldn’t seem to make herself remember anything. She could, she knew she remembered it just fine, it was just… She couldn’t make herself think about it.

“I’m… not sure,” Ophelia finally answered. Loe tilted his head at her, curious.

“You don’t remember?”

“No, I do, it’s just… I can’t get myself to think about it,”

He clicked, as if he had just figured out why the coffee machine had stopped working.

“Ah yes, that’s common after such a traumatic experience. Well, Ophelia, I’ll tell it to you straight. You are Ophelia Stein. You are dead.”

“... Oh,” She didn’t know what to feel about that.

He nodded. “Mhm. You were 42, you had a husband and a daughter. Would you like to know how you died?”

“Um… Sure..?”

“Your husband, Jackson Stein, shot you and killed you.” Loe tapped his forehead, indicating where she had been shot. A flood of emotions washed over Ophelia at the mention of her then-husband’s name. She was angry, unbelievably angry. Seething. She was sad, inconsolably sad. She was fearful. Plain fearful.

“He also killed your daughter, Julie Stein. She was 10. Three shots.” He gestured to his left shoulder, his chest and then the base of his neck. Ophelia felt guilty. She should’ve protected her. She should’ve done something.

As if he read her mind, Loe made a face of sympathy. “You couldn’t have done anything. You died first. Besides…” He trailed off then, his eyes wandering away.

“What?”

He looked back to her, a mildly sheepish smile formed on his lips. For some reason, Loe then rolled his chair to his right, leaving space next to him for a second chair. He shuffled the papers in his hands. He tapped the desk. Once. Twice.

A second man then appeared next to him. Although, man may have been the wrong word to describe it. He certainly was not human. He was impossibly pale. He had light brown, swept back hair and tired eyes. He wore a suit with a red tie.

He also had goat horns and ears. And bright orange, serpentine eyes. Behind his ears wear two small, unfeathered wings. Small, dark feathers hung loosely off it, seemingly moments away from falling. On his back were two larger pairs of equally unfeathered wings. He also had fangs.

“Gavin.” He extended an arm out to her for a handshake, she took it. It was very cold.

“You got your revenge.” Gavin continued for Loe. The man’s voice was monotone, incredibly formal. “Loe decided it would be a good idea to give you back your life, if only temporarily. I supplied the weapon.” He raised a cane then. It was red and white. Just like the bat. “Spark any memories?”

“I… I see now..”

“Yes but there was just one small oversight I may have made,” Loe added rather nonchalantly. He shuffled the papers again, seemingly paying more attention to the documents. It probably wasn’t that big of an oversight.

“My supplying of my powers to you, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have done much. They would’ve completely drained within 20 minutes, leaving you a normal woman. One issue, you died again before they could completely drain,” Loe explained.

“What does that mean?”

“Weeelllll… You died having my powers in you, meaning the universe kind of processed you as not a human, or any animal, or.. Well. Yeah. It processed you as God.”

“.. what? WHAT??”

“Hey! Hey! Calm down! It won’t be anything bad for you. I can’t say it doesn’t affect you though…”

“How?! What happens to me!?”

“Well, your human body – regardless of it actually being here or not – cannot handle my powers in it for very long. On earth, that would’ve been solved by just.. Letting it drain out of you. However, now it can’t really do that because of complicated reasons I don’t need to get into, only now it will alter your physical form to something more… suitable for it.”

“Will it hurt?”

Loe paused, thinking. “Ppprobably not??? I’m not really sure, this has never happened.”

“Oh, great… Wait, so.. Is this the afterlife?? Like.. is this what happens after…?”

“The way it usually goes is that Loe will talk to our client – you, for example, – and then decide whether they should go to heaven or hell. He’ll look over what they’ve done, what they’ve considered doing, what they thought when they considered that, and how they think of others around them.

If he finds them alright, he’ll let them into Heaven. If he doesn’t he’ll send them my way for my own evaluation, where I do pretty much the same thing.

If neither of us can come to an agreement, our client is placed in a temporary stasis until we decide. Doesn’t hurt! They don’t even realise it.” Gavin explained.

Ophelia studied the two closely. Heaven and Hell, huh?

“Are you God and the Devil?” She decided to just ask straight up.

“Yes, we are. Loe is short for Lord, actually. No one has ever gotten my name correct because I always switch it up in the books and allat depending on my mood,”

“Huh. So I'm just… talking to God and Satan. And you’re getting along?”

“Yep. Christian God and Satan. Somewhat. Judaism and a few others got some bits right. Also—“

“Please! That old conflict from.. what, 2000 years ago? It was settled ages ago. Now we’re practically best friends,” Loe butted in suddenly, earning an annoyed glance from Gavin.

“‘Best friends’ is pushing it. We’re business partners.”

“‘Business partners’ you’re so formal, Vin. We’re besties, admit it,”

“.. Whatever!” He waved a hand dismissively.

Ophelia’s mind wandered back to her last moments alive. She remembered Julie.. Gods, Julie!

“My daughter! Where’s my daughter? Is she okay? Where is she?” Ophelia suddenly exclaimed, placing her hands on the table. Loe and Gavin exchanged a glance.

“She… we don’t know. We’ve yet to receive her,” Gavin stated as Loe scratched the back of his head.

“‘Receive her’? What do you mean?”

“When someone dies, they have to find us first. You rarely remember it, and how long it takes varies. Consider it a… first trial, of sorts,”

“A first trial?! She’s ten!”

Gavin shrugged, “Everyone does it. Even babies that die at birth. They’re not alone there, infants and children under five usually have someone helping them.”

“Who?”

“Nice kid called Grimley. He’s sorta like the Charon of this place, helps lost souls find their way to us through his own means.”

“So Julie will find her way here soon? Where will she go?”

“Ey, we’ll find out. Probably heaven, most kids turn up there anyway.”

“Where will I go?”

Loe butted in, “ahh, that remains to be a good question! I don’t think heaven OR hell will treat you the same as a normal mortal.”

“So… what do I do?”

Loe and Gavin exchanged some whispers to each other for a minute, every so often glancing in her direction. After a long minute of rather awkward silence, they finally brought their attention back to her.

“So! We’re thinking, how about we just… give you your own area?”

“You can do that?”

“Duh! Honey, I'm God, I can do whatever I want in this universe!”

“I… alright. How will that work?”

“Well, any place you imagine can become a nice little… middle ground I suppose. A place for the morally ambiguous humans of the Earth.”

“So like… a third place for people to go? … You said I’ll get a new body, right?”

“Yep! We might also need to change your name to keep you anonymous to people who know you,”

“Why… would I need to stay anonymous?”

“People who know you will probably try to bargain with you to get into your area. Even if you don’t let them, we can’t risk that,” Gavin commented.

“Will… Will I still be the same? Like, mentally, will anything be different?”

“Nothing that won’t go unnoticed. Since you won’t have a human body anymore, your human emotions might be… a bit more divine, y’know,”

“How different will I be?”

“You’ll be more like us. A bit more… What’s the word?”

“Morally grey?” Loe added helpfully.

“Yes! That one. Only a bit though, barely noticeable,”

Ophelia thought about it, “.. How will it happen? Will it hurt?”

“Not sure! How about we find out now?” Before Ophelia could answer, Loe snapped his fingers in her direction.

Ophelia looked down, waiting for something to change. Then she realised it’d already happened. Her arms… weren’t her’s anymore.

They were a deep blue now, and no longer made of a material she knew. Bright, yellow stars dotted her arms. Her skin looked like a blue and yellow galaxy. Celestial.

She was wearing a new outfit too. A deep blue dress with yellow accents. Ophelia tried to touch her face, but… nothing was there.

She realised Loe was holding a mirror for her. She saw herself. She couldn’t feel her face because she no longer had one. It was just a pair of glowing, yellow eyes and a mouth. Her hair looked the same as her skin, blues mixing all throughout the silhouette of her past self with yellow stars dotted around.

The weirdest part was that she wasn’t even panicked about it.

“So… How is it? Did it hurt?” Loe asked.

“Didn’t hurt. It’s… weird. I don’t mind it though.”

“Good. Very good. Would you like to choose your new name, or should we?”

“I…”

Her eyes drifted again to her arm, galaxies twinkled in it. Celestial showed up in her head again. It was such a nice word.

“… I’d like to be called Celeste from now on, if you’d please.”