#connection; lilith & shiloh

[r3dblccd]

Lilith chuckled and rested her head on Shiloh's arm. "I'm sure of it." She looked at her. "In that case should we start living together? We could look for a space that would be big enough for both of us. And we could sleep at peace knowing we're not by ourselves."

"Absolutely!" To find someone Shiloh actually got along with was a miracle. Yet here Lilith was; ready to match her freak. The mutant was still all giggles and smiles when she was brought up. "No one's gonna mess with us, babe."

[help-an-alter]

we have three alters who need help with their identities.

one is very cutesy, hyper femme egirl. she's been here for a little while. she wants things related to lovesick, gorey, and video game themes! she would like names, pronouns, and things she would enjoy.

the one is a bit confusing. they're not a human, they mimic humans. they don't talk often. they're very much connected to liminal horror. they want names and things to do. neutral names preferably.

the last one is connected to the umbrella academy. they're sourced specifically off of klaus and five. they want neutral or feminine names related to mystery, tarot, spirits, and time travel. they also want things to do, comforts, and pronouns.

Hello! I did my best with this one, and I hope it can help! However, I highly recommend googling the trigger warnings for the enjoyment recommendations. Particularly with the first alter, many of the things listed are either quite heavy, gorey, or just generally has potentially triggering content. Be safe and have a good day! :]

1

NAMES: love, aimee, cerise, cherry, cordelia, vevina, esme, carina, adora, amorette/amoretta, avila, carwen, amara/amora, cher, venus, kaira, evie, maisie, lottie, lacey, mimi, rose/rosie, rosanna, winnie, minnie, treasure, admire/admira, willow, veil, annette, ameri, aerith, mercy, mei, sora, techna, mochi, bunny, blossom, evangeline, eleanor, clementine, vivienne, juliet/juliette, nadine, arachne, ariadne, circe, calliope, ambrosine, narcissa, melancholia, grimoire, bite, minerva, miriam, mana, mania, crave, desire, passion, wrath, ophelia

PRONOUNS: ei/eir/eirself, love/loves/loveself, love/sick/lovesickself, heart/hearts/heartself, gut/guts/gutself, rot/rots/rotself, blood/bloods/bloodself, sla/slash/slashself, exe/exe/exeself, vi/vir/virself, vae/vaer/vaerself, do/dove/doveself, ro/roes/roeself, ro/tic/romanticself, cu/pid/cupidself, er/eros/eroself (alt. eris), cru/crush/crushself, stab/stabs/stabself, yan/dere/yandereself (can be done with any archetype), rip/rips/ripself, fle/flesh/fleshself, joy/stick/joystickself, ga/me/gameself (alt. gaming), gli/glitch/glitchself, vid/video/videoself, cli/click/clickself, pix/el/pixelself

THINGS TO ENJOY: doki doki literature club, yandere anime’s (mirai nikki/future diary, happy sugar life, etc), classic horror movies, just cutesy but darker anime’s in general (when they cry, made in abyss, higurashi no naku koro ni, etc), omori, one shot, yume nikki, irisu syndrome, you me and her: a love story (steams version has tons of removed content, but there are sites that provide the full game), katawa shoujo, danganronpa, pony island, school-live, fate/stay night, muv luv (the first is relatively normal, the second is where it gets interesting)

2

NAMES: scratch, scream, ghost, hyde, corner, ephemeral, mystic(al), surreal, dream, evanescent, kaleido/kaleidoscopic, cthonic, cthulhu, hypno(tic), eerie, vapor, vaporwave, anomic, dim, nocturne, null, veld, nim/nym, nox, quill, carbon, vale/veil, peregrine, sal, maris, lux, poet, cove, vesper, rook, elixer, glow, soul/sol, naren, endelian, viridian, aether, zenith, shrike, heath, crypt, hex, styx, dread, vex, howl, fable, hale, shade, vaughn

THINGS TO ENJOY: lots of roblox games (evade, doors, 3008, apeirophobia, etc), studying the backrooms, looking into architecture related to older buildings, found footage, lost media, the movie don’t worry darling, the movie skinamarink, short films on youtube, learning about folklore, exploring google maps, weirdcore tiktoks, weirdcore games, superliminal, mirrors edge, scp, stanley parable

3

NAMES: leto, haze, enigma, veil, rune/runa, mystique, wulfrun, calypso, calliope, raven, aradia, blair, sloane, genesis, maze, mazikeen, lilith, medea, elspeth, tamsin, lydia, shiloh, tatiana, lucina, anima, banshee, sybil, cerelia, neander, signe, evening, millennium, lustrum/lustram, sunday, mist(y), gloom, seraph, sera, shade, gargoyle, loom, moon, paige (page of ___), ace, empress

PRONOUNS: tar/aro/tarotself, arc/ana/arcanaself, maj/major/majorself, my/ster/mysteryself, haunt/haunts/hauntself, spi/rit/spiritself, ti/ime/timeself, clo/clocks/clockself, er/era/eraself, dec/ade/decadeself, year/years/yearself, hour/glass/hourglasself, ma/gic/magicself, mana/manas/manaself, gho/ghost/ghostself, sand/sands/sandself, thon/thons/thonself, card/cards/cardself, div/divs/divinityself (alt. divineself, divself), coin/coins/coinself, cup/cups/cupself, wand/wands/wandself, pent/acle/pentacleself, sword/swords/swordself, tar/taro/tarotself, ture/future/futureself, pas/past/pastself, ca/calen/calenderself, cen/centuryself, ve/ven/venself, a/ages/ageself, eni/enis/enigmaself, cry/crypt/cryself (alt. cryptic)

THINGS TO ENJOY / BRING COMFORT: practice several forms of divination (tarot, runes, bone throwing, even playlists can be divination, etc), look into witchcraft and/or paganism, watch time travel related media, explore a graveyard, respectfully clean gravestones, leave offerings to your ancestors (i recommend doing research into this first), create a way to show your identity (ie. bracelet, necklace, etc), cleanse yourself/your home, read mystery novels

divider by strangersgraphics-archive

[irgmugurg]

Belphie's Music Taste

Mammon's Music Taste

Asmodeus's Music Taste

Belphie listening to lofi songs is simultaneously the cutest and funniest thing that I’ve ever heard.

Aw is the bratty little cowboy gonna listen to windchimes and sparkles. Yes. Yes, he is.

Aight hear me out. JUST LISTEN

Belphie listening to country music.

HE HAS THE COWBOY AESTHETIC ALREADY MIGHT AS WELL GO ALL THE WAY.

He’d start it as a joke but he’d gradually love falling asleep to the slow drawl of the music.

he thinks their super cheesy but proceeds to press play

"ugh more country music?" *clicks play*

Or even listening to those sad country army songs about being soldiers and missing your family

He 100% relates these songs to Lilith and having to fight for/against the celestial realm.

AT SOME POINT he’s layed with Beel and they both cried about country music/Lilith (think If Your Reading This and a bunch more by Tim McGraw, Arlington, and Your Gonna Miss This by Trace Adkins)

Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlise. FUCK. I’M GOING TO CRY.

I know some of these songs are from the point of view of a daughter and their dad but Belphie can’t help but think of being able to grow up and show Lilith how the world has changed.

Doesn’t even care that most of country songs are religion-based and yeah sometimes he gets so angry at Father for what he took from him but he remembers that now Lilith is up there still. Doesn’t make it hurt any less though.

Wishes he could still hold her, see her grow up, him and beel being her best men at her wedding, connecting the human and celestial realm

listens to circus songs and fucking cries

NICKELBACK. (he isn’t THAT bad okay, sometimes his songs SLAP) ((lullaby,,,belphie relates this song to his feelings of overwhelming anger in the attic)

Falling asleep holding each others hands, reminiscing about Lilith and the times they had together.

Mammon and satan, just to piss him off, played the wild west theme songs (The Good The Bad The Ugly theme) whenever he walked in a room and he would go demon mode (only for them to laugh harder, cowboy looking ass)

gets embarrassed if you hear him listening to country music

changes the song quickly, he can't have people knowing he genuinely likes it

listened to If I Die Young once and thought of Lilith

proceeded to block all mentions of this song

Anyway LOFI MUSIC.

He loves how soft and sweet it is even though it doesn’t match his “style”.

This motherfucker can be berated by Lucifer and he’ll put on headphones and just watch Lucifer scream at him and only hear soft Lofi music.

Lofi hip hop, Jazz, pop. He does not discriminate.

Very often gets the beats and small portions of the lyrics stuck in his head.

LOVES Shiloh Dynasty and all the remixes

But that is not the only thing that Belphie listens to. Oh no, definitely not.

Loves nightcore. Alvin and the Chipmunks who?

Alternatively likes listening to slowed down songs

Listens to the front bottoms and thinks about punching lucifer in his face

OUCH! By Matt Watson

HE LISTENS TO SCREAMO AND EMO MUSIC.

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE, SLEEPING WITH SIRENS, PIERCE THE VEIL.

Emo headass.

Is very much stuck in the 2010s (probably the last era he was able to listen to before getting locked in the attic and since getting out has been stuck there) and if MC introduces him to any more then even 2020 music.

It’s the emotions that he relates so heavily to but it also helps him stay awake to do tasks.

His turn to do dishes? Unearthly screaming comes from the kitchen. Please don’t worry he is just vibing.

He has the screamo voice. He doesn’t use it often because I don’t see Belphie as someone to sing along, more bopping to the music and swaying, MAYBE mumbling under his breath but nothing more.

Will do it with Lucifer around just to fuck with him

Why is the thought of Belphie on stage, smudged mascara, black leather clothes and screaming on the top of his lungs hot????

would 100% let you dress him up in that outfit but acts like he doesn't like it

Stop *bonk* being *bonk* a *bonk* belphie *bonk* simp *bonk*

He doesn’t like making playlists because its so much work so if he puts on Lofi to go to sleep to and he will stay sleeping on wild screamo music.

Listens to it most in the attic because that’s where a FUCKTON of his resentment/rebellious vibes come from and because he doesn’t want to bother Beel while they are sleeping.

Asshole probably doesn’t use his headphones anywhere else tho.

Asmodeus and Mammon don’t understand him but they love him nonetheless.

*demonic screeching* “Okay sweetie don’t forget about the student council meeting later today <3”

If Mammon vibes with a song he WILL scream along, incoherently though because he doesn’t know the lyrics.

Beel just kinda sits there. Doesn’t get it either but loves seeing Belphie look so at peace.

Old man lucifer “is that what you kids listen to today?” (but can he talk?? really?? listening to cursed records bc iTs InTeReStInG)

Satan gets it the most out of anyone else. When they have Anti Lucifer-League meetings Belphegor puts on the most rebellious, and relatable (for their cause) at least, songs and they both scream the lyrics.

he isn't shy showing these songs to you but has once attempted to show off his emo scream please don't laugh at him

OKAY BUT CLEANING UP THE LIVING ROOM WITH BELPHIE WHILE YOU BOTH SCREAM IS SO CUTE

Trophy Father’s Son by Sleeping With Sirens, Can You Feel My Heart, Keep Myself Alive, Sleepwalking by Bring Me The Horizon, Last Resort by Papa Roach, A LOT OF LINKIN PARK, Monster by Skillet, and OF COURSE Bring Me To Life by Evanescence

He probably wouldn't listen to wolf in sheeps clothing but *pointing* THATS HIM

Belphie has spent time crying over these songs. On late nights when he can’t sleep he cries about how he thinks Lucifer doesn’t love him and blames him for Lilith’s death. How MC must really hate him for how he’s acted. How different he is from his brother’s. (part of why he won’t listen to it in front of Beel)

please hold him and promise him that you don't hate him

He also LOOOOOVVES classical music but due to his history with it will not listen to it.

Aka how he used to lay on lucifer’s lap while he plays lullabies for him.

If Lucifer is playing classical music in the area tho? He can’t help but suddenly feel really sleepy. And no he didn’t fall asleep close enough to hear Lucifer scribble away on his paperwork (Lucifer knows he does and always has a blanket ready for when this happens).

lay with him and if you listen very carefully you can hear him mumbling the lyrics under his breath as he runs his fingers through your hair

One of my biggest things about belphie is that he is really smart even though he doesn’t like to put in the effort.

He likes to dissect these songs (typically passing thoughts and really paying attention, he won’t put to much effort into it) and get into them and it backfires because that means he’s really listening to these lyrics and it hits him THAT much harder. (STICKING LITTLE WHITE FLOWERS ALL UP IN HER HAAAAAIIRRRR)

End Note: Belphie doesn't have the largest music selection but the songs he listen to either help him sleep or makes him get all up in his feelings (bc he is emotionally stunted and its the only way he can cry).

[mooncookee]

QUIVER

You see the soul drips low down where the dirt holds and lip licks upside trees and rubs it's scent up in the leaves so every bee passin' flags its tale. In frets and waggles, tails a kites lets                                                     or a dragonfly drags, they sing out in trails of Halle-lu-jah stretches up, up to heaven' but the land; sees it. Land, it never forgets. No, see? The land never forgets.

It breathes in frequencies sometimes only wolves can bear. Now and then a cat or two might howl but hounds, they just too house broke, cozy, may a' bit too lazy for caring. Some ground just stares; some rumbles like mountain claws strummin' on drum skins. Some been rubbed too much.

 I'm told it growls like that at Shiloh and Antietam, And Vietnam's a locomotive hauling coal down where they stokin' Hell. So they tell. Well it's that kinda hum across the tracks as Quiver Lane backs up to Bayou Self.

Once it crossed there but Betsy or Audrey washed it out; maybe was a hurricane

way 'fore storms got names. No one cared to build it back or cared not to. True that.                                                                        

When Emmalite Petit came to name it Quivers for the way the silver willows shiver in the silver light of night everything changed.

Tragedy and Misery, ain't they so the loudest, overstaying cousins? And seems we never see the sunshine when they visit.   Poor Lita (her prayer given greeting) lived beneath a concrete cloud of loud and overstayin' cousins. They raved a regular hoedown, throw-down, hootenanny, fais do do with a neon rainbow and a disco ball. And I mean cousins, uncles et al. Damn Murder, Curser, Fever and Famine fired it up and washed it blue down there with Deluge.                                                                                        

First her Baby, gone. Her Daddy then her ‘nother Baby, husband, husband, baby, Mama; all lost quick as windblown sand.

 Some say Curser was first to sup. Before Choctaw pushed the Houmas through, before people were more than The People, angels and demons had drama there. In that, I'm told, can't be a winner. Seems Quiver Lane began to quiver long fore Lil’ Lita came for dinner or every time.                                                              

She came like plagues o' Moses. "Note-he-damn-us" speculated they's a Moses lain in every sack of sins.

So said, Lita lived as one or all those "Horsemen," well “Horse-folk,” that head banger gang, jammin' down till the World chokes, spokes broke in sections docking the earth in kinda pocky way clips. Cousin, you catch my crazy pills; lauded Lord seen the Devil’s daughter in a bonnet livin’ as the Mistress of the Quivers. I can't say. Maybe she's the lucky millionth shopper

straggled up, she, falling out the sack; register ding, clang and drawer slip, clap; balloons fell, politicians kissing black beauty baby hexes like bubble blowers whistling.

lucky Medusa, heaving chest, epistles of perdition Panavision in her sweat.                                                          

 Y’all know evil needs a witness, accepting victims’ just objects, directly. God knows Narcissus always came as the main idea. Ain't nobody plays that sorrow fiddle like him.

Maybe Emmalite's his sister?

 Lil' Lita came from Texas by the Sabine Pass. Her folk ran a trawl fleet, had plenty grass for cattle and passe blanc, they say. No verifiable pedigree, a Gypsy privateer, a Mescalita bruja here and here. Clearly an Andalusian heiress in that tree, more than half Moor-ish. She was Venus, trapper by trade so they say.

  (II)

 Down from Paradis a way the Old Spanish Trail snakes through the Texaco Woods. Inertia notwithstanding, curves are angular where that old road bends by the tracks and bends back a time or four. Man, DAMN, that was one alive drive. No, don't try those moves at Big Bear, no. Ask me how I know?

 So, the first knee coming from Paradis, Lita’s mausoleum gloats 'neath an oak grove.

Mère Brigit de Saint Asile, splayed in headstones, snaggle-toothed from the shiny rails, with a ditch mote, a throat bouquet of cattails and poison ivy commanded, a dead man's curve from any poet's axis. A swamp hugged close, old road to tracks that smacked blood wet, stains sustained since skirmishes of Yank incursions shucked, ghost rehearsals from Boutte to Des Allemands.

Older ground, this mound raised by the hand of man, built by bodies gone to mulch, a human humus mushed under hundreds on hundreds of autumn's silts. Floods sipped slippin' the baser stones to tilt in neglect, 'cept lichen love. Yet seldom did molesters linger. Centuries of cypress centurions, elders, priests and voodoiennes spit blasted blasphemous echoes and imminent offenders bent on infecting this umbilical age where souls are directed, selected and nakedly effected and tweaked past sec by the Conscious Constant Conscience Collective till they caress the nexus of perfection. Poor Lita‘s cache was stashed in a crypt like only city seen. Marble Venus reigning supreme over meager crosses, slaves and Cajun tenants, protestants, names scratched unless a body was a veteran.

 The black top ridge the bridge to Quiver Lane crossed tracks at are maintained by Santa Fe Railways on the civil side. The bayou banks can't be tamed. To its own travail, alone it wanes. It assimilates, ate by relentless quest of the prevailing Green to digest, jail and swallow every life, not sailing pass a snail's pace past the veil of tales.

 Some places birth a craving for belonging. I belong there. I learned to swear there,                                                                

was snared by the noose tobacco set. My first drunken crash there after Uncle read me Lovecraft there. I woke wet. We skipped for crawfishing on pretty new spring days, lunch meat and Bunny Bread, that pink mayo pickle spread, four finger bag of weed and a six o’ Dixie. What a day made; laying nets in a knee deep maze up to the first grave. Voo was a swamp "Fred Astaire." I was a true Scooby Doo.

 I felt connected. My first love was laid there.                                                        

We buried my Colinda in the Mom Brigit's breast. No other love tested more than a genuflecting peasant maid weighing fragrances passed in wake of her Queen's carriage. Stressing, up she peeked, a speck in shadows of divinity. That old road led me out on, a life of asphalt sped, gone, minstrel vagabond so long it's all I ever did since I turned back on this compost heap, love's keep, womb of every torch song.

 My class of '81 summoned, thirty-five years running but for them I come. I wonder why, true though, I never could deny our passion. When we took life in shots, chased with pitchers at Tolano’s. We had a world to make.

 Me, I just careened from ditch to ditch like it's me buried by the Quivers. No I deliver as I wither juke to honkey tonk, useless bitch of windy whispers. Till I listed, sunk and sprawled, depraved raving “kinda been” kissing the base of my true love’s grave. I bowed my gaze prostrate so to evade her name engraved by chisel. A blitz of banshees pulling train, crumbled by the strain, I crawled scratching three X's by the gate on Lita's marble vault pleading she would put me down, already nothing wasting air, better fare prepared as mushroom food or maybe that's too good.

 I should… I would but once I promised not to "should" myself. Still, shame laid lame, gasping breaths between grass roots. I wept. "Why me's" pelted till my ears burned red. I quivered in prayers to who knows who.

 "Madame Petit accept my humble suffering as sacrifice. By gluttony, greed and lust, I'm pinned by sin, an empty wraith in waiting, a soulless puppet painted live. I pray my worthless carcass lay a worthy crust to feed the inevitable Green lacing the gates of your Everlasting After.”

 Shotguns slam on Heaven's tin walls, clap of Atlas shaking this world off. Tossed by the blast wave reality whiplashed!

 Peace of the morning, peace of the dawn, peace of the dusk, trust is cruel quiet.

 I wasn't crying anymore, standing more or less, I smelled the musk of Bayou Self.

An ass drawn wagon crossed the bridge carrying six oyster sacks, a six pack of field hands

and six kindling stacks of dried fig twigs. A sickly girl’s grey pony led three chomping keen colts: a big red, an ice white and onyx black sweat gleaming fiery beast. Two tuniced, kilted dudes duked; blue steels, shields whacking, shrieks of deep dread jolts “blue screen” hacked my psyche. Pangs of fresh grief vigorously split me.

 A jug of berry sherry beckoned swig. My sweet Colinda, cherry plucker lolled, bent butt against the trestle rail. My first kiss again conjured up in home sewed halter and faded cutoffs

baring all I knew of truth. I sighed. Honey haired, hazel eyed, mine, giggling on the Quivers side. I knew I had died and raced embracing her with no step took, track jumped or cross tie straddled.

My Colinda, swarthy now calico long dress in bonnet, brunette, black eyes, pupils fire.

Love as always a puny liar.

           "Allons danser." Lil Lita grabbed me. We two stepped. A death of quiet                                                                        

only broke by creaking wood and creosote stink.

 Come to think, I never two stepped. Pickers never learn to dance. Sixties Cajun kids were forbidden, so I was not blessed to know her French addresses. Fancy me this dead man's chance.

We parleyed and danced and dance.

 Bless you; Ma'am Petit you be? Life for me was tired and old. If I’d be so bold

Please bestow me once more to hold my Colinda? Then to dust or mold or as you'd have me.

 "Chere," she said. "Colinda's me. No simple peace and death’s not free

Chere, we have scores and prophecies. A thousand first loves you and me span.

I was Lilith to your Adam.

 A hundred thousand maids you ruined. Who could ever love as I do? Spun out countless loves found tombs, dead in the womb as I sang lullabies. I brewed my fear beer. Stirred you here

Through waste and wander savoring every maid you plundered. Hate begets a viral Eden. Evil needs no truth to seed. Fear and hunger, pain and greed ripened drips in misery.

 Hero here alas you settle, finally, quite a hefty debt. Here you left, Colinda bled, red washed dress on a slave girl grave. Sweating fatherhood for fame let your name escape her blame. At last my final pica’s set my Casanova minstrel, convinced, sorry victim in your head, sped millennia and parried any collar, cross or retiarius’ net.

 But see this land, it never forgets. It pressed a bed of want in you that blooms like sumac in the rain. You came. Your only bet was plain. But here the game is mine, you swine

and markers called. You’re out of time. I'd feed a million trillion flies on your flesh and spread your soul like chewy tricks as treats on chilly demon children’s Halloween.

 But see, my pride, I got to ride. These fine three anxious steeded knights and I have deals to seal and seals to peel while you here feel the pain of every death since you've eluded me.” She chuckled, eyes blazing licked her lips. “But that too was your dream I guess. You always were my favorite pet and here see, this land don't forget."  

                                                                     (III)

Black is white to where she left me. Agony a soothing choice. Infinity times three;

tormenting claws and jaws forever stripping, split my atoms, sip and spit me. Buckets left to catch my wet screams. Seamless, moving troubadour’s tool ghoul re-jeweled to phantom’s whispering shrill banzai Mojave dry.

 Sorry now I'm such a bummer. I'm just a strummer not your savior but if you care for your creator make your peace cause Lita's coming.  

https://www.reverbnation.com/dwaynestromain/song/30163760-quiver-rvbntn

[r3dblccd]

"You'd protect me, really?" Lilith wasn't sure if she was the type to enjoy romantic thing, but to say this didn't make her legs feel a little weak would be a lie. "Perfect. We'll have each other's backs and nothing would ever get in our way."

"But then who is gonna protect you?" Shiloh could try, but her powers weren't fully under her control yet. "Oh! I'll get stronger so I can protect you, too."

[r3dblccd]

"Looks like it." A very faint smile formed on her lips. "You wouldn't need to worry, I'll protect you."

"Then we'll have to make sure neither of us die, huh?"