#jeremiah my oc

[heartfullofleeches]

late night thoughts: gremlin bastard incubus darling who torments their priest (yan) with the most cursed lingo they've picked up in their time on earth- It's the least fun they can have since the priest refuses to let them out of his sight or to fool around with other humans.

"Hey, Mr. Priest - when you gonna let me hit that tight manpussy over that podium over there?~"

"Watch your tongue, demon - or I will find better use for it myself-"

"....So, can i jot you down for later this afternoon?

[soup-future]

new ocs . Smile

[trnasock]

yeah (finger doodle)

featuring @shrimperini whom i frequently share my insanity with

[roboj0e]

Lani saved by his pimp

[numbuh-72]

"I'm Sorry Ma..." - KND Animatic

Context: Gianna got invited to a sleepover with Jeremiah and Phoebe! The three decided to kick off the sleepover with a couple of fun games. What Gianna doesn't know though is that things were gonna be...interesting~

(Jeremiah and Phoebe belong to @artsygirl0315)

Finally! After all this time I was able to complete this after all this time! I got so worried that I wouldn't be able to finish it by the end of the year- XDDD

Happy New Years Artsy!!! Can't wait to make more memories with you and along with our other moots!!! <3

[oros-ash3s]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⋆ Febuwhump 2025 ⋆˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Day 7 || “Alternate Timeline Self”

TW: Character death, descriptions of violence

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“What did you…” The boy’s voice echoed hauntingly, a thousand voices overlapping within it, screeching with static noise. It was a chorus of the damned, every soul the man had taken, every plea for mercy, every broken cry to please, please don’t kill me, spare us, I’m begging you, all coming back to haunt him. It was his very worst fear, and it was kneeling right in front of him. “What did you do?” 

Jeremiah stepped back nervously, stumbling over his feet. His hands shook, the blood dripping from them suddenly a searing fire upon his flesh, poisonous and deadly.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. 

This mission was all Jeremiah had waited for. 

With rumours spreading like wildfire throughout the Congregation, Jeremiah had heard a lot of things in the past decade about their cause, how close they really were to succeeding. A centuries-long battle; a nation that had been building and growing and biding their time, of course there was excitement when it seemed like things were finally going to come to an end, where they’d reign victorious above the rest. There were whispers about how the Alliance was growing weaker and weaker with every passing day, spreading themselves thin for every fight that broke loose, losing more fighters than they were gaining. With the government dismantled, there were no regulations, no more rules or order, the police force reduced to nothing when compared to the combined brute force of the church’s power. The country was in shambles, the general public sent into a panic, hoarding supplies and attempting to flee, all concepts of organization or balance long forgotten. 

Eden was falling apart itself, with every one of their little obedient mutts running off or falling dead. With no soldiers to hide behind, the company was crumbling, giving the Congregation every opportunity to rise above. 

It was the perfect time to strike. 

Jeremiah had been going on mission after mission, exhaustion wearing him thin, his control slipping through his fingers as he was wrung dry by the constant fighting.

He almost hadn’t gone on this mission, if not for the damned tip.

Rumours spread fast. And the rumour that the infamous Atlas Zieliński would be making an appearance on this very mission had come to him almost instantly. 

An anonymous tip.

He wouldn’t have gone, if it weren’t for Zieliński. 

Atlas Zieliński had taken everything from him. His life, his future, his pride. His brother. Alastair was the one thing he had promised to him, the one thing that brought light into his normally grim world. Alastair was the one person he was so desperate for, the person he was supposed to have at his side, fighting next to him. 

But Zieliński had stolen him. 

And for that, Jeremiah would never forgive him. 

The plan was simple. Get rid of Zieliński, make sure the body was never discovered — a casualty to an uncontrolled, raging battle, one that could be easily written off as the work of Eden, one that his naive little brother wouldn’t think to question. Then, he’d leave. He’d take his daughter and his brother and the three of them would be their own little family, no more war, no more fighting, no more of anything.

Once Atlas Zieliński was out of his way, he’d have nothing to worry about. He could have his family. He could have his life back.

Everything would be perfect.

He had found the man on the battlefield, warding off soldiers from both sides, his movements fierce and intentional, blood staining the ground where he stood. 

Killing him had been easy. The man was a coward; weak, pathetic. Backing away from Jeremiah, as if he could escape. Like Jeremiah would ever let him get away. He hadn’t tried to fight back, hadn’t attempted to raise his weapon up towards Jeremiah. He had simply narrowed his eyes, barely dodging the blows, almost as if he accepted it. 

Jeremiah was in too much of a bloodthirsty frenzy to care. 

Atlas Zieliński was his sworn enemy, the man that had torn apart his life, that had stolen his baby brother from him, that had held him hostage and whispered lies into his ear, filling his head with nonsense, alienating him from his own big brother. 

He had turned Alastair against his family, his real family, and had tried to turn the brothers into enemies, forced to stand on the opposite sides of the battlefield.

Zieliński had to pay. 

Jeremiah felt no regret as he killed him. Not as he crouched over the man, one hand squeezing around his throat, the other tightened into a fist. Not as he delivered blow after blow, a pure fury crackling inside of him, as he pounded Atlas’ Zieliński upon every inch of his life. Not as blood splattered his face and Zieliński’s face became disfigured and misshapen. Not as the man underneath him went still, the light fading from his eyes.

It was only as he stepped back from his work, standing with a certain satisfaction that nothing else would ever give him, did he feel fear course through his veins, shaking him to his very core.

Because as he stepped away from the desecrated remains that were once known as Atlas Zieliński, a guttural roar cut through the battlefield. A roar that could only belong to one person. The very person that Jeremiah had been counting on not coming. 

“Atlas!”

There were tears streaming down Alastair’s face before he even found his way to the man’s side, inky black smearing down his cheeks. He knelt at his side, hesitating for a brief moment before softly cupping the caved-in head of Atlas Zieliński, holding it oh so tenderly, as if he believed there may be a possibility in which his friend may still be alive. As if there was any life left in that battered, bloody figure.

Jeremiah had watched, frozen in time, as his baby brother hugged the corpse he had just left haphazardly on the reddened ground. He watched as he whispered little sweet nothings, as he sobbed and as he promised: It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you home and everything will be okay. 

He watched as Alastair wailed and clung to his sworn enemy as if he were the most important thing in the entire world, as if nothing else had ever mattered. He watched in a sort of silent awe, his voice suddenly caught in the back of his throat. 

No.

Alastair wasn’t supposed to see. They hadn’t told him Alastair was going to be here. Why was he here? Why, after everything, was it always Zieliński that he chose?

Why was it always him?

Alastair’s pleas suddenly died down. His hands tightened their grip around Zieliński, thick black tears splashing onto his front, but no such whisper of broken hopefulness came from Alastair’s lips.

It was then that his brother turned to him, the man still curled up helplessly in his shaking arms, his eyes shining with an unknown emotion, something Jeremiah had never seen directed towards him before, not from Alastair, something Jeremiah wasn’t sure his brother was capable of holding. 

He was staring at him with complete and pure hate. 

No, no, no—

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen at all. He was supposed to kill Zieliński and bring Alastair back home with him. Zieliński was going to die alone and there would be no one to bring him and his brother apart anymore. 

He had planned it carefully, he had done it just like he was supposed to. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Alastair wasn’t… he wasn’t…

He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“You.” Alastair spit, his words made of pure venom. There was no timid hesitance present in his face, no soft gentleness that Jeremiah had grown so completely used to. His expression was twisted up in fury, pain and grief morphing his features into something foreign. Pain Jeremiah had caused. 

For the first time in his life, it was as if he was seeing his brother clearly. 

As the man in front of him began to change, an inky black spreading across his skin, warping and morphing his features, smoke and shadows clinging to his figure, Jeremiah was hit with a sudden realization:

He had deeply underestimated Alastair.

masterlist || next

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I wasn't exactly sure what to do for this prompt, so I decided to do an au that Sam and I thought up a while back!! So no, for clarification, this is NOT CANON. I just thought it would be fun to post a little what-if ^^

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Credits go to @ohagiwrites as she helped come up with this storyline. Jeremiah and Alastair also belong to her ੈ✩‧₊˚

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taglist || @febuwhump @ohagi505 @vesanal @aalinaaaaaa @fangedcinnamonroll @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @seastarblue @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @iamheretohurt @corinneglass @melodxi @thebookishkiwi @lancedoncrimsonwings @sugaredparchment @cepheusgalaxy @fizzydreamz @robinshandhurts @ieppiq @nosebleedgirlpunch @sunflowerrosy @charlachan @cacophonyofwords

[spicybees]

oc brainrot lately... they are my muses

[vantagrapes]

TWO MORE MAIN OC'S YIPPEE.

(They kiss)

[pixelrhys]

Mouthwashing OC.... His story under the cut for MW spoilers and suicide.

It's a little messy because I wrote it at like. An hour past my bedtime lol.

A medical student that works with Anya and met a similar fate as her.

He's aroace, but the crew assumes he has a thing going with Anya. He doesn't. He's aro.

The crew only planned for 4 people, but Daisuke and Jeremiah were added last minute, making the situation a lot worse.

He was locked away with Anya during the situation, but was unable to stop her from dying. She had told him about her pregnancy before she died and the guilt ate him alive. He ended up consuming the last of the pain killers and dying across from her.

[skiddlebats]

Assorted Jeremiah doodles that I like (+1 Isaac)

[heartfullofleeches]

Current brainrot is my Priest Yan Jeremiah and kind, innocent unintentionally a bit of a tease Angel Darling. TLDR for Jeremy here is he was fed God's flesh and started a cult, feasting on and gaining power from those who oppose his order aka angels who obey their fallen creator. Angel Darling has been off doing their own thing since shortly after the creation of humans and no clue what's happened these past centuries - probably off on some unmarked island taking care of animals they admired a bit more than humanity.

They eventually decide to catch up on what they've missed and seek someone in the new world to aid them - finding a strange human that gives off the faint essence of their master. Jeremiah figures they're going to make an attempt on his life like the rest of their kin, but can't because for Christ's sake can they put some damn clothes on before he runs a blade through them. The last time Angel Darling was around mortals there was no such thing. They're confused by his repulsion to their flesh. It's hardly any different from his. Jeremiah eventually realizes how lost they are and almost pities the creature. Since they're barely a threat he allowed them to live.

Angel Darling is so happy to have made a new "friend". They follow the homicidal priest like a puppy and asks him all the questions they have running through their feathery head. Apparently God entrusted the earth to him and they'd be wise to follow him as their traitorous kin refused to. Angel Darling believes him wholeheartedly - they just wish they didn't have to wear the robes he gave them. Human clothing is no different to being weighed down with chains to them. Mr. Priest does get rather red in the face when they remove them. Perhaps it makes him sick, but a lot of things they do make him flustered. They hear him calling their name in his office, but whenever they go to answer the door is locked and shouts at them to go away. Mr. Priest is so weird sometimes, but they love him dearly.

Jeremiah adores their obedience, but other aspects awaken urges he rarely had even in his mortal days. It's like he's a horny young adult all over again - something he missed out on the first time around. His Angel is so unaware they probably know nothing about such sin, but the way they bend over leads him to hope otherwise

-

Jeremiah: Good Lord, what on Earth are you wearing?

Angel Darling, wearing a sexy nun outfit: Huh? I thought this was typical for members of your faith. Do you not like it, Mr. Priest :(

Jeremiah: I do which is exactly the problem.

[soup-future]

yay ocs yay

[bluuscreen]

summer here is nearly over and i could not be more grateful

[both characters use he/him!!]

[roboj0e]

does lani have a type? or is it just any underage boy he can get his hands on? 🙏

Nope anyone can get it! He's a slut!

[kappamelone]

[Freeing them from the oc prison]

Sooo first OCs I want to introduce are Jeremiah (left), Jerry for his friends (nobody call him with his full name he feels like he's been lectured or is in trouble) and Anthony (right) !

They're my vtm campaign pc and npc, both vampires from the gangrel clan, they're two anarchist who fled from new york to new orleans when they sensed the danger from the camarilla side in nwc.

Anthony turned Jerry in the late 80s/early 90s, their relationship is a bit complicated they act like a proud and loud father and his angsty rebellious son but there's a story of abandonment and avoidance rooted deep inside both of them.

They're very dear to me, also the rat is called Alexander The III.

[404-art-found]

Strobophagia has a special place in my heart because of its style and vibes. That being said, imagine my surprise when the studio behind it announced that their upcoming game, Locomoto, which is a cutesy, slice of life train conductor game.

a rave-goer seems to have taken a train to get to the headless festival :)