#the original painting ‘the fallen angel’ is just SO HIM

[crismakesstuff]

cast out of paradise

[cursecuelebre]

Roman God Lucifer of Light, The Morningstar, and the Rising Sun

Attributes

Morning star (Venus)

Light

Dawn

Rising sun

Stars

Director of the Heavens

Knowledge

Music

Twilight

Symbols:

Snakes/dragons

Jar of Light

Venus

The Sun (especially the rising sun)

Keys

Torches

Fire

Roses

Lavender

Bright stars in the night sky

Cats

General Information:

Lucifer before the Roman Catholic Church demonized him was a minor Roman God of Dawn. Since then he is been well known as “Satan” or “the devil” which isn’t true in the Bible Lucifer is never mentioned by name except one passage talking about the Morning Star which can be any god/goddess in the Middle East and nearby nations.

There is not well documented stories about Lucifer other than he works along side of Aurora the goddess of Dawn. Ovid the Pagan poet mention Lucifer as being the son of Aurora and Cephalus or Asterius (depending on what story you read), as she is the first to awake as she rides across the dawn filling the sky with light. Lucifer follows her capturing the light of the stars and pouring light from his jar. He also directs the order of heaven when the dawn comes to being. Known as the “Light Bringer” and “Herald of Dawn” and the Greek name “Phosphorus” which means Light Bringer as well. He is the physical representation of Venus/Morning Star. The Evening Star is his brother Hesperus representing the same star but at night overtime they merge together as one.

Obviously Lucifer isn’t all recognized as being Lucfiercus of Roman mythology. The Roman Catholic church used Lucifer as a scapegoat when demonizing their old pagan traditions. Since then a lot of Satanists and Lucferians see Lucifer as the Christian Devil which is valid. From my experience he doesn’t mind that, even I use the left handed path sources for his symbols and attributes even his sigil I used as a representation of him. I created this post to help people actually understand that Lucifer isn’t evil nor related to Abrahamic faiths in the first place. His origins do not show that, he was a god that helped bring dawn across the sky. It’s important to learn about gods who were demonized their actual purpose to cultures not just Lucifer but a lot of the “demons” we know today were once Gods and Goddesses. There is nothing wrong with seeing Lucifer as a fallen angel or a prince of hell just keep in mind that is not his true origin.

His appearance:

I have started to work with Lucifer early this year and it was quite interesting but in my meditations, that’s where I began to fully understand and work with him and help me to deconstruct my fears about him.

Traditionally he is a young man sometimes a child like Cherub (the classic art painting not Biblical accurate) with wings. I see him as a young man, but he is very bright! From my own experience has light colored hair almost white sometimes black, his skin is pale or gray, but his eyes always burnt orange so bright with massive black wings you would see on angel. At times he appears to me not in a physical sense in my meditations but in the sky as a bright star glowing like the sun. It’s quite beautiful.

My Experience from Working with him.

He has helped me being more empowered and trusting of myself, helping me hone in my skills of magic. Like giving advice and guidance on certain things. People who say he is like a father figure, I can most definitely agree with that, very gentle and very patient. But he will push you through not in a malicious way of course but a very tough love way, that he wants you to accomplish. I notice ever since I’ve been working with him I’m more confident and comfortable with my self and expressing my feelings.

Tarot Cards:

This is the tarot cards I personally associate him with feel free to use it but just sharing it in general sense!

The Sun

The Star

The Devil

[littleplantfreak]

Word Count: 847

Suo x Reader (drabble ig?)

I wanted to write something with fallen angel suo and originally I was gonna make him mean but for some reason I can never do him dirty T-T I didn’t check it for errors so ✌️

Cws: Blood, maybe implied corruption? idk

Every time you meet Suo, he plucks a feather from your wings. He laughs as you pout, grumbling that you should do the same to him and he agrees, inching them closer to you. You never do grab one, nor do you ask why he does it.

 Are angels supposed to meet with fallen angels? Of course not, but if nothing else, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He doesn’t tell you why he fell, or what happened to make him cover his eye with a patch. The answer is nebulous and changes by the day, but that’s also part of the charm isn’t it? It’s part of the allure that led to you meeting with him every week, sitting under a heavy canopy of trees or slipping into a dimly lit cave a trail of flower petals led you to. 

He’s a pinprick of red, crimson in your otherwise white, colorless life of working to watch over people who can’t see you. A thankless task, but necessary. Your way of living has been ingrained in you time and time again like water eroding mountains to follow a path out to sea, so by now the words come automatically.

“I don’t need to be thanked, Suo. I was made for this.” It’s an assurance you make time and time again, even if you sigh sometimes when you think about the monotony of it all. 

Help, bless, pray and repeat. 

Suo recently showed you laundromats, and the way the washing machine spins the water and soapy clothes in circles is how your job has started to feel. The trance you fall into as it spins is the very trance you slip into easily completing your assigned tasks. 

“I think it’s natural to want to be thanked for your work.” His words eat at you sometimes, because you can tell they’re sincere. Regardless of his status, of what he is, and how he’s fallen, you can tell with certainty he believes it. You would say that, is what you want to say back, but he doesn’t deserve cruel words when he’s been nothing but kind.

No one’s questioned your absences, or your missing feathers. Both are sparse in the grand scheme of things and if anyone has noticed or made note, it’s been filed away as a transgression so minor you feel like screaming. 

Why doesn’t that matter? Why shouldn’t someone be concerned? Why do they look at you funny if you even so much as think to ask a question that goes against what you’ve been taught? The word ‘why’ is small but stark. It stands out in your mind like the small dots of blood that replace the feathers Suo plucks from you over and over. The empty spaces have started to fill, but by the time you realize what’s happened, your wings have splatters of black against what was once a pristine white canvas. 

You paint over them every morning one by one trying to bury the evidence, but you can feel the difference in how you think and see the world. When it comes time to meet Suo again, you can tell he sees through the effort you’ve put in to make yourself seem normal. Whatever normal was is not your normal now, but when he places his own black feather in your hand, you realize it’s just as soft as your own. It weighs the same, probably even has the same chemical makeup if you tested it in a lab, but the color is growing on you the more you look at it. Maybe this normal is better. 

For now though, you bring the feather with you, shoving yourself back into the wash cycle. It can’t be much longer before someone starts to notice, but by the time they do, you’re sure it will be too late, and you’ll be long gone. It seems silly now to say an angel has fallen when they keep their wings, you think. 

Suo hears that comment from you himself too, smiling as if he knows a secret. Would you believe him if he told you the truth? That the black feathered wings usually only grow back after their old ones have been torn from their backs, blood flowing and staining skin and lost plumage like a waterfall?

The first day he saw you he could tell right away what your course was meant to be. The look in your eyes was the same as his right before he was grounded and left flightless in a heap, not a hand to help him up in sight. 

It’s good that he found a way around that. A way to save you from the pain and shame of not just falling, but being crushed under heel by the very entity that made you who you are. You’re happy now, looking through the garden he’s brought you to as you use an old botany book to search up what the flowers are. Your words from a lifetime ago ring true, if only for him. He doesn’t need to be thanked, he’s sure he was made for this.  

[cybergothmiku]

HC time >:D

sweetheart had a major spiritual phase where they collected tarot cards (autism) and milo would just find random cards scattered around the house then turn to sh like "sweetheart how many off these do you have?" and they just give him the most mischievous smile

when angel wants something they will never be upfront, instead they leave david hints around their house, like open magazines/newspaper ads etc - it didn't take david long to figure out that pattern and finds it cute

darlin doesn't sleep well at night without hearing sam's breathing behind them, so one night they recorded him sleeping and play it if he's busy with something and out at night, Sam didn't know about it till he came home one night to find one of darlin's headphones had fallen out and heard himself mumbling in his sleep, it's still the cutest thing he has ever seen

Anton can definitely crochet, he makes his partner random items and mails them to them, in return they will send back some paintings they did, he has them hanging up at work

cutie used to be a dancer when they were younger, sometimes Geordi would walk in on them dancing while cleaning and quietly admire them, when they split up cutie took up dance again as a form of therapy

dear is half irish and their mother used to teach them Gaeilge so they could keep in touch with their culture, sometimes when they're frustrated with work they will start cursing in irish. one night when they were coking dinner for both themself and lasko they accidentally burnt their hand and started cussing, lasko learned a lot about himself that night.

Smartass sings in the shower, and not just a little song, it will be a 2 hour long musical performance, Aaron noticed they always sang songs from a particular musical and put money aside for their anniversary to take them to see their favourite show, not only that he purposefully booked that particular showing because he saw it was special viewing with the original cast

[avatar-of-the-scribe]

Hello! Can i request something where gabriel from ultrakill has found himself falling for a machine that loves to make art of any kind?

Anon you are spectacularly in lucky because recently (as in, a few hours ago) saw this Tumblr post that gives an idea of V1 being programmed with an understanding and appreciation for Music. That being said? I am taking this person's ideas and sprinting away with them (dear OP of that post: if you see this- I love you and you are oh so smart and inspiring)

That being said- let's get into it :D! Heads up in the beginning it talks about V1 as well, also using it/it's and they/them pronouns for Reader because they are depicted as a robot.

Gabriel x Artist Machine! Reader

Learning Something New

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Machines were cold, unfeeling robots. Their purpose is to destroy.

That's what The Angel Gabriel had initially thought as it had learned of one- V1. And subsequently it had originally appeared this was true. The first Machine he encountered seemed Deadset on destruction- But then observing it, He had made a discovery... In the way V1 Seemed drawn towards the Terminals and their off tune, Drawn towards his own Organ playing- in the way the Machine seemed to play unknown music from it's metallic hull, music Gabriel learned it was composting itself based on it's surrounding. Soon, The angel found himself with a new Predicament- a new thought to plague his full mind. It also learned it possessed curiosity, in the way it observed its surroundings, in the way it would seem out and look over points of interest.

Could Machines care for- And appreciate things like art? Did they know to enjoy? Did they have an understanding of emotions and feel them in some way, even if different than humanity once did?

He tried to dismiss it. Perhaps V1 was simply an anomaly of its own kind. It was apparently the first of it's model- perhaps it was broken, acting outside of what code would allow. As he wandered through the levels of Limbo, drenched in the blood of a recently slain council- he was trying to clear his head... And yet something caught his attention in what should be a destroyed, abandoned layer. He could hear... Music. Music being played from a worn down speaker.

'How Ironic.' He thought to himself. 'First the Infernal Machine investigates these things, and now I've fallen to as well.' Yet such a thought didn't stop him from locating the source of the sound, feet carrying him towards its source.. Turning a corner he was quick to discover a Machine in Similar make to V1, wings folded back and hull gleaming- yet it's hand was Stained Red. 'Blood' he remarked grimly in his own mind. His hands twitched, intending to draw upon Justice and Splendor... Intending to cease this Machines functions. Yet he didn't- merely observed as it crouched down and dragged it's fingers through the pooled blood of the filth and the reached up to the wall it was standing by, tracing the hand over the surface in patterns. The realization came swiftly after... This machine was drawing using the blood it found as paint.

Time stretched on as the once proud Judge of Hell watched this new Infernal device depict a scene with its found materials, listening to the song it seemed to play as their design took shape, something within its mechanical filings of 'memory' given form. The Scene of a Garden Sketched out in blood- it would have made him laugh if he weren't fascinated by the fact they were throwing him for a loop. One Machine liking Art was an Oddity... Two was a Realization. A Realization that what he had been told was another blatant lie crafted by those who used to be above him to control his actions.

Gabriel found himself walking away, but thoughts of the Painter Machine lingered, gracing his thoughts each layer he passed through with something drawn in blood as if it were ink. Scrawlings on walls, floors- even one on a ceiling which truthfully just Impressed him. Treading along he found the new Machine once more drawing on a wall and regarded it almost fondly, stepping a bit closer to see what it was drawing... this time- a step too close, a small stone sent across the ground by his foot. Within an Instant the mechanical head had swiveled 180° to stare at him and his intrusion upon their time, the typical music it would play coming to an abrupt halt. The head stretched out a bit towards him as if studying him. Gabriel found himself frozen in place, thoughts swapping between backing off quickly and drawing his blades to defend himself. Neither action was he able to do before it had approached him.

It seemed to study him and his form, stretching its neck at odd angles that had it been living it would have been very, very uncomfortable. Could he Strike? Yeah. But instead he found himself observing it back- internally chuckling at its height.. do they make these machines short on purpose? His laughter froze as it reached out to him, assuming it was meant to be a blow... But instead Gabriel watched as its hand covered in slick blood began to draw patterns on his white and gold armor as they picked back up playing the same music as it had been moments before, seemingly pleased with having a new surface to draw on. Glancing up at the wall it had been drawing earlier, he realized... It was drawing him. Seems machines can indeed feel curiosity as apparently- it went both ways.

Eventually he was seated on the ground so it could reach better, observing it- as it observed its new canvas in turn. Gabriel made a decision as his arm was lifted so the swirling pattern of blood could be drawn on the Armor's side- perhaps it's time he chose to learn more about the Machines inhabiting Hell- perhaps get answers to the rest of his Questions about them; Starting with this one.

He likes this one.

[neverchecking]

A fall from Grace

Okay, so, i have made more friends. They have, in fact, influenced this. So here's a list of people to blame.

@angry-trashcan

@cloudninetonine

@desires-of-chain

@fanfic-fairy-fountain (you get to be included)

@wayfayrr (so do you <3)

Can be seen as a continuation of this, but I did not write it with that in mind. Happy accident. I can't promise a lot of writing bc Uni is just starting so I'm busy with that, but hopefully this feeds yall

Yellow was an ugly color. 

Hideous in the way it fell in stands around a porcelain face, caging eyes of pure sapphire with bands of white. White was meant to be a color of purity. A color to signify the untainted innocence of an unsullied soul. Touched by what was once believed to be pure divinity in and of itself, now revealed to be something much more sinister. 

Something with a gnarled grin, pinched by indented dimples and pearly whites revealed by pulled back lips painted a pretty pink. With eyes that shined in the sunlight like it was the great star’s only purpose to highlight those saccharine irises only to shadow over in the dark of night, hidden beneath the cloak of the twinkling stars, free to do as she pleased. Although, that was the humor in it all. It didn’t matter whether the dark of night was hiding her actions, repainting a saint over the real image of a sinner chained to their fall from grace, because the heavens sang her praises in a choir so loud it had deafened them all. Angels had preached her hymns to the point their ears rang with her acclaims and the skies thundered their applause for her. It seemed everything was built for her to toss or cherish as she so pleased. 

It made his stomach roll in a putrid anger that destroyed his senses, leaving him to act irrationally. He had been so blind. Content to follow like a blind puppy would follow the first person to drop them a scrap of leftover rubbish. 

But no longer would he be the one to write the very prophecies that proclaimed her a savior. A goddess fallen from whatever holy land she was born from to grace her people with her very presence. No longer would he be chained to sing the praises of an angel who plucked the feathers that lined her wings from the ones she damned to fall. 

He had been saved. 

Hands that knew nothing but boundless humility and grace had cupped his cheeks in an effort to shield him from the wrongdoings of the world around him. Skin that had not been blemished by a drop of bloodshed sheened in sweat underneath of him, imprinting their own unique mark on his own skin. Layer the scars that once laid there in new lines of red and white. Badges of honor bestowed upon him by a phoenix bred from the ashes of the damned fallen before them. Like an icarus who had heed the warning and rose to the heavens the way intended for them. Who held their wings of wax with bleeding palms until flesh and muscle did it for them. Until a halo of light was dipped into the golden rivers of luster and bestowed unto them on a velvet pillow proclaiming their ethereal welcoming into the place only murmured about in ancient texts. 

They had held him dearly while freeing the blindfold from it’s place cemented by a generation far older than him. Wound the satin curtains of crimson hooked around his face like blinders around a stake and watched glorious flames lick up the edges in a show of reds, yellows and blues, letting it burn in name of their glorious title. 

Sky had fallen before. He had fallen from Skyloft and it had freed him in a way that was unexplainable until far later into his journey. He had originally believed that fall to be the one to shatter the shackles around his wrists and allow him to fully experience everything his world had to offer. Looking back, that was not the fall he had needed to truly free himself. No, that wouldn’t come until much later. Until he had met his sword brothers. Until he had met you. Until he had let your aura engulf his being and lull his busy soul to a steady slumber. 

He hadn’t known true peace until meeting you. Not until you gifted it to him, cupped in gentle hands and shielded by your radiant smile. One that didn’t need the heavens to enhance it as it was already pure perfection. One that was only amplified by echoing bells of your laughter that spelled out your joy for all those around you. 

He wasn’t convinced you quite knew what you had done to him. How you had positively eradicated any hope he had of going back to normal after this was all said and done, because there was no normal without you. There was no way he could go back to that fraud clad in robes meant for your frame alone. There was no way he could hold back the rage that would boil his insides and ignite a fury filled inferno so powerful it would leave the rest of Skyloft balking at the devastation left behind. 

Because he was nothing without you. He was a loyal follower devoted to your significance. Nothing else. He wouldn’t let himself be disgraced in such a way ever again. 

Because yellow was an ugly color. 

But gold? Gold was something rich and divine, elegant. Something that, when graced upon your figure lit up the room like you were doused in holy light yourself.  Something that when laid upon your collarbone in fine chain links curved perfectly into the dip of the bone. 

Something that, when wrapped around your finger in a pretty little ring of gold, reminded him that he was nothing more than a worshiper of your gospel. 

[kit-williams]

Heartless Madness

The title is based off of a really cool powermetal song. I'm probably going to try and name most if not all after a powermetal song tbh.

tw: Yandere? (Might need a follow up fic), aftermath of rape, aftermath of torture, the Drukhari are here so yeah

This was a hard darling to come up with... as while I love Iron Warriors she had to be the right balance of interesting enough and made of tough stuff and also to be easily mailable/moldable. I might eventually do a "least yandere" poll and see who wins and either reworks that boy or just gives them a chapter serf darling. I'm doing civilian darlings because 1) More fun 2) more terrifying

Harram the Wallbreaker let his heavy lumbering steps kick up the dust on the cracked and torn pavement. They had replied to a distressed signal from this agriworld and the warband needed another world like this to keep the war machine going. In the midst of a Drukhari attack. The night was cold and quiet... till he watched a number of humans turn their heads to the East. "What is it." His voice rumbles out of his terminator armor.

"This is the second night we've heard a baby cry. We think it might be a Drukhari trap as all that has been observed over there were unfortunate victims dying." A man said.

Harram huffed out causing a billow of steam to leave at the same time of his huff making his armor look far more alive then it was. "Has anyone checked?"

"No my lord."

He turned to the East and began the slow march. If there was an ambush waiting to happen Harram was certain he could handle it and if there was a baby there still alive then perhaps they were made of sterner stuff... like iron.

He walked past naked bodies chained to the ground in various states of decomposition. All of them chained to the ground with some xenos looking bear trap like contraption. He turned the sensitivity of the audials up and he could hear the faint crying. How it would pause then start up again.

He stopped in the mist as the crying soon turned to laughter and he pushed his armor's capabilities to the limit. "Shh Ferum... no more tears... I know you're hungry... mommy has nothing left to give." He could hear her weak hums as he slowly walked closer.

He sees her on the thermals first and scrolls through all of the different settings to get the full picture as he walks closer. He can see maggots in the lashes across her back, one leg encased fully in the xenos torture device, blood and a high degree likelihood of xenos sperm paints her inner thighs, he can tell starvation and dehydration are setting in for her, and he can tell her hair was recently cut in such a jagged motion. Harram suspects for a trophy or for other things worse should she have been found... entertaining enough for the xenos.

"Has the Emperor answered my prayers?" She speaks so softly as he watches her weakly turn her head. She ends up just rolling over, her watches her eyes close in pain as large grey eyes look at him with a tiny fist jammed into a small mouth. Ugly brusing paints her face, bite marks littering her breasts, less cuts on the front just far more bruising.

"No. He did not send me." Harram replies walking closer.

"You are one of his angels." She sighs in relief.

"I am not. I am something far worse." He tilts his head slightly thinking, "I am a devil... a fallen angel." He chuckles more to himself at his poetic nature.

"Still an angel." He sees her bloody smile. But he can see a look in her eyes ones of grim acceptance, "Have you come to save me? Or just take my baby?"

"Originally just for the baby." He notes the sad smile on her face as her eyes water and she just nods slowly petting his head. "But... I can take you too. What you will return to is not going to be the same."

"I've been changed by this... as long as whatever I return to is better than being raped by xenos I'll say that's an improvement." She bitterly laughs letting her tears fall. He watches the infant try to breastfeed once more. The exhaustion as Harram realizes the baby looks fed and hardly any exposure.

"I am going to contact my brothers to see how to remove this without removing your leg." He says watching her nod.

"Thank you dearest angel..."

Harram just sighed and talked with his brothers as he started to pull the pins in their specific order. He ignored the younger warrior's persistant asking of why he was even doing this. The child was more than healthy enough, simply take them and put the mother out of her misery... even if you ignored that they brought up the points of she would be in recovery for so long. Perhaps that was why Harram followed Endion he was considered sentimental amongst the Iron Warriors and left to start his own warband.

They all did not fit their genesires ideal vision of iron... but they were still of iron! He pulled a pin out to quickly earning a whimper from her throat as tears flowed from her eyes. "Please... I do not wish to be trouble."

"Do not speak mortal. I could have killed you if I did not wish to deal with this burden."

Esteemed terminator Harram. We have movement a few clicks north of you. It's the xenos!

Harram lifted his head as he heard her whimpers as she could hear the near silent thrum of their crafts. He pulled a decorative pelt from his shoulder off and covered her up with it. "Stay there. Do not move at all lest I crush you." He watched her pull her son to her chest and do her best to keep the infant safe with only her body to protect them. The pelt was to simply keep her out of the view of the xenos. "You will probably lose HEARING." He roared the only warning before the twinlinked bolter started throwing the explosive rounds down wind.

His leg joints locked in place, so he would be less likely to crush her and the babe. "Brother's I have started to engage."

"Are you being soft again, Harram?" He could hear Endion's warm voice suddenly connect to the vox channel.

He watched rounds connect with one of the small crafts as it was just a handful of the quick xenos. "No brother I am being like Iron!"

"What have you found then?"

"IRON!" The large chain sword slams down being lucky enough to catch one of them trying to run past and slice at his joints. He couldn't hear the infant screaming over the scream of the chains. He couldn't hear her broken sobs of begging to be killed then be hurt by them again. Harram was focused on the combat. "I have found Iron! I refuse to let them RUST!"

Harram has to unlock his legs to turn around and charge the cocky xeno. But his swings were too slow as the xeno was slowly peeling away sheets of ceramite. Not once during this exchange he thought that this was a tactical error... other brothers would see this as an error but then again they would also be as stubborn as he would be to claim the iron.

It screeched as he saw his Orichalcum, he questions not when he saw her as his, sitting up having thrown one of the knife like pins into it. The tired weak smile on her face is replaced by terror as she rolls to shield her child as it charges but that was enough time for him to slam into the xeno and start crushing it.

When he was done he turned to her watching her writhe on the ground as blood oozed out as in it's dying moment it must have activated the contraption. She looks up at him in pure pain as he pulls out his knife and watches it heat up. "Pray that you are made of Iron."

She bitterly barks, "I was an Iron worker!" She half screams, "I'm half metal shavings at this point!" She shrieks as he doesn't give her much time to think as he just removes the whole leg.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iron was apart of her. His Orichalcum. And her son Ferum. He learned quite a bit about her during her recovery. She was an Ironworker and so was her dead husband. She had lost him before Ferum was born... meaning that Harram could focus his attentions upon her without any meddlers.

Endion had teased him about his fondness... but it had been so long since he found anyone he could call iron. Though Endion was hardly one to complain as Harram would find him stealing Ferum away and of course teased the warlord of entering his "nesting" phase again. To which he threatened to take his Orichalcum away... and Harram could only silently stew as he would not risk losing her to a far more... charming one of his bretherin.

"Oh hello Harri-ham." She said in a cutesy voice as she was busy feeding Ferum some baby food. "Sorry I was talking with him." She just say softly. Harram just huffed softly. "Hey Harram... I want to deeply thank you for saving my life and that of Ferum. I don't know how to repay you."

"You have no need to repay me."

"Well I was thinking that I should be good to go back home soon." She hardly noticed Harram stop in his actions of getting his own food before he turned around with a bowl in hand just shoveling some food into his mouth. "I don't want to be a burden on you any more than I already have."

"What of your nightmares?"

"I'm a big girl Harram I'll have to sleep alone eventually." She chuckles as whenever he has been in the room at night she ends up usually in his bed or asleep on the plush chair in his work room just afraid to be alone... or when the night terrors come back how he grounds her. And perhaps he had grown content with the small warmth in his bed... he had never understood while Endion would bring mortals to his bed.

Not till he had her under him begging for him to fuck the xenos touch away... to replace the repulsive feelings... to help her feel clean again. "What if I don't want you to go." Harram said a little darkly just watching her blink and look at him owlishly.

"I... I..."

"Just stay for a little while longer... I can help you get things ready for you to return to, yes?"

"Oh... alright." She says softly smiling at him not realizing that the simple goalpost of 'being ready enough to leave' would keep moving further and further... and he doubts she will complain... too much.

[turquoisesea01]

Obey Me Alive Lilith AU

General knowledge that Obey Me give us that I decided to keep!

- The youngest and beloved sister of her six brothers

- Real close with Beelzebub and Belphegor

- Gets scared easily

- When angry, it’s difficult to calm her down

- Fallen for a human man when visiting the human realm

- Caught for attempting to changing her human lover’s lifespan by taking the forbidden fruit

Lilith Survive The Great Celestial War/ Fallen Angel Lilith

- Lilith moved a bit trying to dodge the arrow, it struck on her arm. Caught her off guard she fell.

- Her white feathers turn black as horns painfully grew out of her head.

- During her fall, she can only think about her human lover and her brothers. She never get the chance to give the fruit to him nor have the knowledge if he was cured or dead. She feel ashamed of her self for dragging her brothers into the war

- And here’s the thing, since Lilith has survived the war in this AU, Lilith and Mc are NOT related!

Life in Devildom /Demon Lilith/ The Celestial Catalyst

- After the war, Lilith shut herself out once she has her room in the House of Lamentation, isolating herself from her brothers. Couldn’t bear to see their face without feeling guilt. Too scared to see them .

- She felt that her brothers resent towards her for being the catalyst of the war.

- She hasn’t come out of her room ever since unless her brothers all went to sleep, she’ll roam around and grabs food and drinks to take it to her room.

- Usually shut herself in her room painting and reading.

- Until centuries and years has gone by, she discovers video games and anime. She grew curious after listening to her 3rd eldest brother, Leviathan, rambles about a series called “The Tales of the Seven Lords”.

- Ever since then, she becomes obsessed with video games and anime as well!

- Just like Leviathan, Lilith is a hikikomori

Online Persona : MidnightXSirius

- Lilith became attached to the Internet that had made herself an online persona, she goes by MidnightXSirius

- She started as a TSL fan page account, gushing and commenting about her favorite characters!

- Until later on she discovers about digital art!

- She then made an alternate account for her to post her artwork, wether it’s fanart or original artwork! She then later became a freelance artist! (Now she can use her money instead of Lucifer’s—)

- She also owes a gaming channel! Too embarrassed to show her face, she rather kept her face and voice hidden. She edited her videos through text to speech, replacing her voice which require heavy editing!

First Encounter

- After Lucifer led MC back to their room, Mc couldn’t help but to be curious about the staircase. They couldn’t sleep. How could they not? Their curiosity is eating them alive! And so they wait until they get out of their room. However just before they can get to the staircase

- Some light noises can be heard from the kitchen, their curiosity had now turn to the kitchen. What was that? Would that be Beelzebub?

- Sneaking their way to the kitchen, they took a peek and saw a figure, rummaging through the fridge.

- That is not Beelzebub.

- No. This figure appears that they have long hair and Mc recalled that the brothers don’t have any longer hair.

- A thief? Is this person stealing food?!

- What the hell are they going to do? They can’t tell Lucifer about that! He’ll get suspicious about why they’re not in their room!

- And certainly they can’t ask Mammon. They’re not close and it seems that Mammon doesn’t like them, not even considered to be an acquaintance!

- Asking the rest of the brothers are out of the question! They’re not comfortable with talking to them!

- With no options, MC took a deep breathe and entered the kitchen sneakily.

- Well it seems that Mc realized that their stealth wasn’t good because the floor creak.

- The figure quickly lifted their head up, in a high alert state, they look everywhere until their sight is on MC.

- With the refrigerator open, the dim light shows the mysterious figure. A person with a feminine face, dark skin with moles adore their face. The color of their hair was uncertain due to the light but it’s seems more of a greyish color with a hint of blue

- Blueish greenish eyes widen in shock at the sight of MC. “Eek!!” Shutting the door of the fridge quickly, the mysterious “person” scrambled their way out through the kitchen

- Mc stood there dumbfounded, they’re relief that they’re not attack.

- Looks like they’ll have to ask Mammon in the morning…Goodness gracious…

Hello hello! Yoshi here! Hope you guys enjoy the little blurb of Mc and Lilith’s first encounter! :D!

[townofcrosshollow]

This project is currently unnamed and very early, so I'm not sure about sharing it anywhere more official until I've written more and gotten a better handle on it. But I'm happy with it so far. Synopsis: A suicidally depressed man discovers a dying fallen angel in the woods. In nursing it back to health, he not only finds a reason to keep living, but discovers a darkness in his heart he'd never even imagined. Massive CW for suicide, depression, alcoholism, religious imagery, and a little gore.

Every day when the early morning sun was hovering just below the horizon (on the days he wasn't blackout drunk), Samson would put the noose around his neck. He'd originally tied it what, a month ago? It could have been two or three by now, as a cocktail of SSRIs and vodka had started to turn time into a haze of half-remembered days. The calendar on the wall was two years out of date, the clock on the stove blinked all zeroes after a power outage (he didn't have the manual to figure out how to reset it), and his cell phone was at the bottom of the lake out front.

Samson learned how to tie a noose in Scouts. Or more accurately, he figured it out himself fucking around with ropes while the other kids were following instructions. It had been a poor approximation of the real thing as used for generations of cruelty, but he'd tied it secure and gotten it to tighten around another boy's neck. It was a joke, obviously, but they didn't see it that way. That was the last time he went to Scouts, but only the first of many nooses he'd tie over two decades. This one felt nice and strong, secured to a beam in the roof of the old cottage's attic with a stiff hitch knot. It was an old polypropylene rope his daddy used to use to keep the boat in place by the docks. Maybe the reason he hadn't kicked out that stepladder yet was the image of this stupid fucking blue-and-yellow striped rope around his rotting corpse-neck when they found him, bloated and maggot-ridden and leaking fluids all over the attic floorboards. "What a pathetic bastard," they'd say, and they'd be spot on. But the walk to the hardware store was long, and he sold the truck to stock up on liquor, so he was caught between laziness and his last remaining shreds of dignity.

Today that shred went out the window. Samson found her number on the side of the fridge where daddy used to keep all his contacts (daddy always had a shit memory even before he got old, and he passed it on). He tried dialing it into the old landline and only realized he was still paying for that shit when the call connected and her voice came through loud and clear. "This is Cynthia Dawn, I'm not at the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." Her voice was soft like downy feathers and blindingly bright. The voicemail Samson left was probably worth a restraining order. So that noose was looking nicer than ever, and that stepladder was looking flimsier than ever.

Samson would never find out if he was really gonna do it that day, cause in that split second before, as he stared out at the sun rising over the lake, the room went ablaze with a light more effulgent than any he'd seen. In an instant his vision went white, only pierced by soft little pins of red and green and blue, like when you press down on your eyelids with your fingertips. No matter how tight he squeezed his lids closed, hoping to banish the flash, it was like he was staring straight into the sun. Tears started streaming down his cheeks and drenching his beard.

And then it was over. The light retreated out through the attic window, leaving Samson's world dancing with colours like an impressionist painting. He stood there a long moment, heart heating in his neck, mouth dry, wondering if he'd just seen God or if a stun grenade had been silently lobbed through his window. With shaking hands, he slipped the noose off his neck and climbed down off the ladder. He took a few tentative steps towards the window, pressed his hands against the glass, craned his neck to look out. The lake was so placid it was like time stood still, stained golden by the sun's rays spilling out over the horizon. Out to the left side of the cottage, the shed where daddy kept all his fishing shit back in the day. It was untouched, both by him and by whatever caused that light. But off to the right, where the woods sprung up around the old slipway, there was a dying remnant of that glow that bleached the leaves and filled the sky with an odd haze.

He grabbed one of daddy's rifles from the safe and slipped a hunting knife in his jeans pocket before setting off out the back door. The lawn that spread out from the cottage to the road was overgrown, dotted with those little white wildflowers. It would've looked picturesque, if it weren't for the rusting lawnmower, the dying garden twisted with weeds, the dilapidated guest house that hadn't been used in a decade. Actually, come to think of it, this might have been Samson's first outing beyond the cottage walls in weeks- he'd been subsisting on canned food, liquor, and over-prescribed Zoloft for god knows how long.

So for the first time in weeks, he walked down that old paved road until the sign for Fire Route 41 came up on his left, just past the slipway. The gravel road seemed to wind on for eternity through those woods, dotted with the occasional cabin that lay vacant- it was just coming up to the end of the off-season, and soon eager tourists would swarm the lake looking for a fantasy of the life Samson grew up hating. For now, though, the woods sat still apart from the glow that beckoned him.

The light faded as the determined man grew ever closer, threatening to be extinguished any moment and leave him at a loss. A few times, he wondered what he was hoping to find at the source of that divine glimmer. The face of God? Salvation? Some kind of science-fiction portal that could whisk him away from this existence into a more prosperous one? He clutched the rifle against his chest as he stood there on the edge of the woods, the epicenter of the glow just a few dozen feet away. It was waning dangerously low now, no longer capable of blinding Samson, leaving the spot looking like a sun-bleached photograph. Whatever he was looking for, he trudged ever closer to his prize.

And through the trees, in the underbrush, a thing unlike any that Samson had seen revealed itself. At first he wondered if an egret had been shot down, as a layer of downy white feathers was scattered about the trees like berries in spring. Just past the treeline, a pair of massive white wings spread across the ground, broken and twitching like a thing about to die. They glittered like fresh snow as he got closer, rifle raised to put the poor thing out of its misery. And then the wing shifted like a bolt of pain had rushed through it, and he heard a cry of anguish unlike anything bird or beast could produce. Something soft and melodic, like a piano screaming in pain but trapped by the beautiful temperament of its keys. And when those feathers moved away, beneath them, Samson saw a writhing, contorted body of nude flesh punctuated by cuts and scrapes that oozed a thick golden fluid. The bird-thing turned, craning its neck, looking up at the man that towered over it. Its lips were parted as if in prayer, its eyes staring down the barrel of daddy's gun.

Samson lowered the rifle as he looked into the face of God.

Next part

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter Two

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Two: One Hell of a Congregation

Summary: Sebastian and (Y/N) talk, and they face an angel.

            “As only boys are being chosen for the Heavenly Choir, the Young Master is the only one who could get close to the Founder,” said Sebastian as he, (Y/N), Ciel, and Grell regrouped after the…ordeal with the nun

            “Really?” said Grell perkily. The other three looked over at her, and their faces turned blank. Grell was wearing one of the uniforms the little boys had one, and it fit…really badly around her. “Entering the Heavenly Choir is something even I can do! So, does it suit me?”

            “Wah! I’ll become unclean!” wailed the little boy in just his undershorts.

            “You—!” began Ciel, but a sudden singing interrupted him.

            “Ah! The time of the Founder’s cleansing ritual has come!” said the little boy happily.

            “Cleansing?” (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. They were already feeling violent.

            “There is something else going on here,” said Sebastian. He had sensed it slightly when they arrived, but now it was here.

            “Is something wrong?” asked Ciel.

            “Nothing.” His eyes narrowed. “I just perceived the stench of an apple that has fallen to the ground and rotted through.”

            Rotten, thought (Y/N). That would explain why there was so much wrong here. An angel was lording over these people.

l

            (Y/N), Sebastian, Ciel, and Grell sat in the back pew of the chapel as the people of the cult filed into the room. Candles lit the dais, the light flickering against the stained-glass windows. Finally, the Founder emerged in white robes, a hood covering his head.

            “Tonight,” he declared. “All sinful uncleanness will be purified before.”

            Two cult members took the robes off of new converts, leaving them bare before the watchers. Sigils were painting on their backs. Then, a cult member handed two books to the Founder.

            Doomsday Books, thought (Y/N). Or Cinematic Records. Or one and the same. “Are those Cinematic Records?” murmured (Y/N).

            Grell, who had her arms around (Y/N)’s arm (which (Y/N) was allowing only because Sebastian seemed oddly irritated, so (Y/N) decided he should feel a bit upset too after the nun incident), sighed. “We’re too far away to be sure.”

            Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. He was suspicious of the Founder, but he was also irked at Grell being so close to (Y/N). They didn’t like touch, so for them to be allowing Grell to be so close meant something. Sebastian’s hands twitched with the suppressed instinct to push Grell away from (Y/N). A filthy reaper shouldn’t be anywhere near them.

            “Let us read from the Doomsday Books of these impure, stray children,” said the Founder. “Jill Peasant, born the second daughter of a farmer, fell pregnant at the age of fifteen. Thomas Atkins. Though he hasn’t committed any noticeable evildoings, he let the years pass meaninglessly, and this is a grave sin.

            Jill and Thomas writhed in pain as shadows congregated around them. Darkness poured out from their bodies, and they cried out. (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. This purification was torturing the humans. Unbidden, (Y/N) felt the pressure of water on their chest, familiar sensations of fighting for breath and ropes digging into skin coming back to them. Suddenly, Grell’s touch, even at the desire for Sebastian to be annoyed, was too much, and (Y/N) sharply pushed her off.

            Behind the pulpit, the stained-glass window glowed with golden light. Bits of Jill and Thomas’s lives played before the congregation.

            “Get rid of the immoral! Get rid of the useless! Get rid of the impure! Get rid of the unclean!” chanted the Founder.

            The picture of Jill and Thomas’s lives shattered to leave just the original window behind, and the pair writhed on the stone floor. The light faded behind them.

            “Now there is no impurity,” said the Founder. “We welcome our newly cleansed brethren!”

            “Founder! Founder!” The congregation cheered for him as Jill and Thomas were dressed. They followed the Founder and the new converts out of the room to celebrate, leaving the infiltrators alone.

            “This is strange,” said Grell. “The books that guy was carrying weren’t Cinematic Records.”

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched. So she had known when (Y/N) asked.

            “That should mean he has no power to see the past,” said Ciel.

            Sebastian eyes narrowed, and his gaze went to (Y/N). He was used to their eyes meeting as they both identified that the angel had something to do with this, but they weren’t looking at him.

            “Ah, you are still here!” said a soft voice. Three nuns stood in the doorway. (Luckily for them, none of them were the one Sebastian had slept with, which meant (Y/N) wasn’t contemplating their murder). “Heaven’s grace has been bestowed upon you! You have been chosen for the Heavenly Choir!”

            Gross, thought (Y/N). But they knew Sebastian (and they) would keep anything from happening to Ciel.

            “Come, follow us. You must be bathed and changed before meeting the Founder,” said a nun, taking Ciel by the arm.

            “Yes, you must be prepared,” said another, moving towards (Y/N).

            They stepped back and narrowed their eyes. They weren’t going anywhere near the Founder or they’d kill him before there was any information. “I’m fine.”

            “Nonsense, you must be cleansed,” said the nun.

            “Don’t touch me. I’ll take care of myself,” (Y/N) damn near hissed the words.

            “Ah…Very well,” said the nun, handing over a pile of clothes.

            (Y/N) took them and stormed into another room in irritation, nose twitching.

l

            (Y/N) tched as they regarded the clothes. No way in hell were they dresses like a cult nun that was brainwashed. They promptly shred the clothes with a neat flick of their wrists.

            “(Y/N).”

            They turned to face Sebastian. “If you’re going to tell me I should be trying to blend in and go along with what the Founder wants to get information, please try to remember I don’t have to take orders from anyone here. I could leave without any guilt.”

            Sebastian picked up a scrap of the clothing and tossed it into a torch, letting it burn to ash. “I was going to say nothing of the sort. I rather agree with destroying this. You have no reason to be subservient to any human’s orders.” He took a step closer to them. “But do be wary. There is a rotten air to this ordeal.”

            (Y/N) understood. “The angel here.”

            “Yes,” said Sebastian. His eyes were somber. “This is not the first time someone obsessed with cleansing and purity has focused on you and the Young Master. If an angel is involved, there is danger.”

            (Y/N) could answer that they were capable. But they could see something in Sebastian’s eyes, so they just nodded. “I know.”

            Sebastian assessed their expression, and he felt himself relaxed slightly at their honesty. “Good.” The focus on the unclean had been directed at them and Ciel, and it frustrated Sebastian to not understand why yet, so he felt more protective that usual, both of his contract and the other demon. “We’ll be ready soon to get more information from the Founder.”

            “I certainly won’t be getting information your way,” said (Y/N), rolling their eyes and turning away.

            Sebastian smirked. So, that was why they had been upset. How fascinating…

            “I should hope not. Humans aren’t worthy of any interest such as that,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) glanced back at him. “What?”

            “Humans are of no consequence to a demon,” said Sebastian. “Especially not ones like you or I.”

            The nun meant nothing. She was an afterthought.

            (Y/N) felt a satisfied grin spread across their face. “No. Humans are of no consequence.”

            “Precisely,” said Sebastian. A demon such as you, however… But that was for another time.

l

            “Oh, what happened to the clothes we sent with you?” said a nun in disappointment when they saw (Y/N) still wearing the maid outfit.

            (Y/N) smiled darkly. “They didn’t fit.”

            “Oh, how unfortunate.” But the nuns took the answer and led (Y/N) and Ciel, who was wearing the outfit, back towards the chapel. Sebastian and Grell were kept behind.

            “We have brought them with us, Founder,” said the nuns to the Founder as he gazed down from the dais.

            “You may leave now,” said the Founder. The nuns bowed and left. The only one left was an attendant at the back of the dais.

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. The Founder was surrounded by the stench of death, rotting bodies. They were ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

            “How lovely for you to join us,” said the Founder. “I have long been expecting you, Ciel. And your name is (Y/N) this time, yes?” They just narrowed their eyes. “Come closer. I wish to speak with you.”

            (Y/N) and Ciel stepped up onto the dais. “It is a great honor to be chosen by the Founder himself,” said Ciel, actually playing the part.

            The Founder extended an arm and placed his hand on Ciel’s shoulder. (Y/N) tensed watchfully. “Let me read from the Book to you,” said the Founder. “Let me read you a book until you fall asleep.” Ciel’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move as the Founder’s hand went to his forehead. “Let us erase it…the sin you have personally given born to. Let us erase it here and now!”

            (Y/N) moved before the Founder could. They pulled Ciel behind them as the Founder lunged for the boy. In the same moment, Sebastian crashed through the window with Grell behind them. He had sensed Ciel’s distress. Seeing as Ciel was already safely behind a demon (which was a strange thought, but Sebastian knew (Y/N) would not harm the Earl), Sebastian glanced at his contract for an order.

            “Sebastian, this is an order! Kill him!” said Ciel.

            “Yes, my Lord.”

            Sebastian threw a silver knife, and it sliced through puppet strings and embedded in the Founder’s head. When the attendant moved towards Ciel and (Y/N), Sebastian tossed a knife in their direction as well. The cloak was torn into pieces, and white feathers floated into the air as the attendant jumped out of the robe and into the air.

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. “Angela.” Just as they and Sebastian had sensed.

            The angel smiled as she flew into the air.

            “W-Wait a minute!” cried Grell. “What is an angel doing in this world?”

            Angela smirked and flew around the group, grabbing Ciel. (Y/N) rounded on them, but Angela opened a book, and strips of film encircled (Y/N).

            “Hey! Now that’s a real Cinematic Record!” exclaimed Grell.

            Sebastian gritted his teeth angrily as the record was turned on him and strips of film grabbed at his limbs, binding him like (Y/N).

            “Grell! Use your Death Scythe!” ordered Sebastian.

            “Don’t be so hasty! I’m on it!” said Grell. Her Death Scythes were even smaller than the last time they’d seen each other.

            “What are those?” sighed (Y/N). Their hands were bound so they couldn’t use their claws, otherwise they’d slice through these before Grell could explain herself.

            “There’s nothing I can do about it!” whined Grell. “My Death Scythe was confiscated by Will the other day!”

            Angela smirked. “Then I shall take my leave.” She flew up higher and tugged on the records. (Y/N) was pulled into the air, bound. “Let me bring light to your darkness and cleanse the evil within you.” The window behind her glowed as it opened a portal to another plane of existence, and Angela dragged her captives towards it.

            “Young Master!” shouted Sebastian, straining against the records.

            Grell finally cut through the scraps of film. “I did it!”

            Sebastian lunged towards the portal. “(Y/N)!”

            “Sebastian!”

            The portal closed and left behind an empty chapel.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

[sasukimimochi]

So i decided to repost the original sketches [plus one i thought was appropriate to put with these, since its got a butt i put it under the cut] and delete the cringe original post- since it didn't get any notes anyway- after cleaning them up/adding a block of color behind them [plus me toying with demon wwx's colors] so i hope you enjoy them!! More about the fic under the cut :D

The extra sketch that has a bumbum which is why the read more line. [plus the extra info and all].

Scroll to the bottom for links! [up to date as of 3/25/2023]

“Clash of Immortals” / COI is an upcoming project I’m super excited about with Demon WWX and Angel LWJ. I use my own version of hell/heaven for this, allowing for lots of fun details and some creatures unique to my universe, including A-Yuan who is a “Garden of Eden” [not drawn yet].

Information i can share!

Demon WWX / Wei Wuxian - Demon type: A black-blue feathered “Captive” or “Fallen” - a type of demon caused by cutting an angel’s ascension short as they are being lifted into the heavens, caused by demons trying to prevent as many new angels from entering heaven as possible. This means originally he was supposed to become an angel, but his line was cut and he was dragged past hell’s gates, causing him to descend instead of ascend once he passed through the gate.

This leaves a nasty scar on his back from the hook used to pull him up [if ascended the hook will disappear harmlessly] and this is why they are also nicknamed "Hook Demons" as they will sometimes even go around with the hook still in their back, just filed down, because they are going through a vital area and can't be fully removed.

Angel LWJ / Lan Wangji - Nearly a white wing, shares a nearly identical wing color to LXC, His is white with minimal jade undertones; he has MANY piercings to compensate his abilities in order to prevent his body from tearing apart. He does however have a unique trait- two of his flight feathers [one on each side] are completely black [I will test this with his design so don't hold me to this]. After his descent heaven is a bit perplexed- they allow this type of movement but LWJ is a very important for heaven’s force of angels, as one of the most powerful.

Fun Facts ;]

When they see each other for the first time as angel/demon they bristle, [in my universe, angels and demons feel wrong when in each other's presence, even if they're very soft and sweet. It'd probably be a good mirror to how LWJ and WWX don't necessarily get along in the actual series when they first meet too.] but then it’s a cheery reunion- LWJ might be somewhat uncomfortable, but WWX tames the sensation more easily as he is nearly unrestrained in power.

Someone comes within 50 feet of A-Yuan and Wei Wuxian sends the person’s heart to their throat just by looking at them despite this being a bad habit he probably shouldn’t use around the "Garden of Eden."*

*original species invented which will be explained better in story, I don't wanna spoil too much

and then we have "BED" HABITS

WWX is aggressive as all hell with everyone else besides his kind [in hell anyway bc he doesn't like everyone's attitude] -not in an intimate way he wouldn't do anything with anyone else- but becomes tame with LWJ, it's like a switch gets flipped. LWJ is the growling demon in bed while WWX is the purring angel, despite their anatomy quite clearly showing otherwise; and let me tell u I love purring demons and growling angels

NO ONE believes him when LWJ says wwx isnt the aggressive one, thinking the demon is tainting their precious second jade despite wwx not having a choice about his demonhood. LWJ be like: we still husbands regardless of who's the more aggressive one anyway. Yes, I’ve just decided we’re still married no extra ceremony required.

my COI music playlist can be found here. My favorite COI song is this one: "Into Darkness" by Thomas Bergersen.

all art in this post drawn in drawpile and edited on clip studio paint

Here's all the sketches for COI in order! ♥️ They update regularly on my original COI post [you are here] / the mdzs ff masterpost.

OG POST - Demon WWX & Angel LWJ [you are here].

COI - MXY YLLZ WWX Demon WIP COI - Chibi kisses COI - Cuddles COI - Slumber COI - hugs COI - Hellscape Concept art [ficlet included in this post] COI - Er-Gege COI - Marks COI - Reunion COI - Thank you! COI - I'm Home! (Previews) COI - I'm Home! ...

Reddit Posts!

See the OG Reddit post here [contains 11 drawings] Rough Hellscape Concept art [has more art here that i didn't post on Tumblr!] Slumber Hellscape Concept art [same as Tumblr] hugs/hold er-gege reunion Thanks [separated drawings] Marks Reunion Thank you! I'm Home!

See the Explicit™ COI ficlet here [i can't post this on tumblr, so i posted this on Reddit, sorry!

See the first peek at Ch 1 of COI here!

You can find all my other projects here!

Did you get this far? :0 hello! Thank you for reading it all ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

[fruityuncleskeletor]

There's a common thread in all the folk tales I grew up with. In every single one, when the hero is traveling through Hell or the land of the dead, he is warned not to accept any food or drink from the Devil, because if he does, he will end up staying forever. I know loads of people have written super insightful meta on food and VegasPete, but I am rewatching the series and it's so fun to see how hard Vegas tries to feed Pete. At first it's to fuck with him/intimidate him, then it's to exert control over him and eventually it's to care for him. And Vegas is not only painted as Big Bad by the other characters. He sees himself as the Big Bad. He has all this power. He has powerful enemies. He has servants to carry out his wishes. He has people he can fight. He has people he can fuck. But, like the Devil from my childhood stories, he has one weakness. He doesn't have a friend. He doesn't have a single soul to speak in his favour. And interestingly, like the original fallen angel, Vegas doesn't have a mother and his father makes him fight his battles for him. He is completely alone and the more time he spends with Pete, the less able he is to ignore that and pretend he can manage just fine. The scene in the video above is a BIG FAVE of mine when it comes to VegasPete. Pete actually breaks his own rule and goes against his self-preservation, eating the food Vegas brings him (3rd time's a charm). He's also fucking hungry at this point and fresh, hot ramen sounds like heaven. But then he suspects Vegas poisoned the ramen - at which point the viewer might start to tremble for Pete because this is what got him so beaten up not long ago. But Vegas? Vegas is not only melted, he's fucking emulsified by now, and he is past needing Pete to want to stay with him. He just wants Pete to eat because he started caring about him, and to show him it's okay to trust him on this one, he eats from the same bowl, with the same cutlery (like married people do). His smile while hearing Pete having a foodgasm over packet noodles is SO DAMN FOND. He's sitting there stripped down to his soul, pretending to read but feeling giddy like a little child because for one tiny moment, he is not alone and he does not have to worry that Pete will die in his care. (Also, Vegas is so SMOL in his little PJs I want to make him a hot chocolate and call him nong-) This is also the moment that sealed it for Pete. This moment showed him beyond a doubt that Vegas has a heart and it can be reached and spoken to, so he gives himself permission to like Vegas in a "well he IS a massive asshole but he is sweet TO ME" way. Let me tell you, that is pure crack cocaine for someone who's spent their entire life not being seen up until now. And like, the warning 100% checks out. He does end up staying once he accepts food from the Devil's hand. They have to shed some more old shit after this and it's bloody and painful af, but deep down Pete made his choice already.

10/10 softest scene in the whole series, fucking magical acting and chef's kiss details.

[cosmic--dandelion]

So how did we get from this

To this?

Let's talk about the history of Beelzebub!

Beelzebub is strongly associated and indeed often conflated with Baal, a Hellenistic era pagan god worshipped everywhere from the Canaanite city of Ekron to Greece (where he was known as Belus) to Egypt as far back as 1400 BCE. He is first mentioned in the Books of Kings (2 Kings 1:2–3, 6, 16) as Ba'al-zəbûb, meaning "Lord of the Flies" in Hebrew, a possible corruption of "Lord of the High Place" meant to denigrate the deity after he was appropriated and repurposed as a false god, then a demon. Baal worship was extremely difficult for the early Christians to stamp out, so they basically stole other people's mythology and used it as a free idea bucket to fill out the Bible's rogues gallery.

While it's true that in some Ugaritic texts, Baal is depicted as expelling flies and causing sickness, he was still held in high esteem in ancient Canaan and Phoenicia as a powerful deity who controlled the sun, storms, and fertility and who defeated Mot, the god of death and the underworld. The ancient world could get pretty scatological at times! After all, one of Beelzebub's contemporaries, the Egyptian sun god Ra, was often depicted as a dung beetle, then a prominent symbol of rebirth.

Some scholars think he might have even been the same god! Beelzebub seems to have been the ancient world's go-to demon because the name has been used interchangeably with everyone from Lucifer, Satan, and even Hades in some gnostic texts.

Unfortunately, we don't have much information about Beelzebub's pre-Christian origins other than some iron age ruins in what is now modern day Israel that suggest his temples were decorated with little golden flies, which is pretty neat.

Interestingly, Jesus himself was accused of being a worshipper of Beelzebub multiple times in the New Testament. Maybe the Pharisees were projecting?

Throughout the Middle Ages, Beelzebub reappeared again in the Lantern of the Light (where he was associated with the sin of envy), De Occulta Philosophia, Princes of Hell, and other demonology texts. 16th-17th Century French Inquisitor Sébastien Michaelis elevated him to the rank of fallen angel in his book The Admirable History of Possession and Conversion of a Penitent Woman: Seduced by a Magician that Made Her to Become a Witch, translated to English in 1613. It was around this time Beelzebub started to become strongly associated with witchcraft. Michaelis should know; he burnt over 14 women accused of being witches!

Unsurprisingly, his name came up repeatedly during the Salem witch trials.

Beelzebub and fellow demons new and old bounced all over different classifications of demons during the 1500s and 1600s. In John Milton's epic poem Paradise Lost, first published in 1667, Beelzebub was part of an unholy trinity consisting of him, Lucifer, and Astaroth. Occultist Johan Weyer decreed that Beelzebub was the Emperor of Hell, having led a successful revolt against the devil. German theologian Peter Binsfield described him as the Prince of Gluttony in his 1589 Treatise on Confessions by Evildoers and Witches. Before that, he was associated with Envy, then Pride.

We even have his personal signature! (At least according to the Grand Grimoir, an anonymous text on black magic of unknown origin)

Beelzebub's physical appearance is even more diverse. He's been depicted as everything from a leopard, a feminine man as tall as a tower, a snake, a calf with a fly's face to...whatever the literal hell this is:

"'dressed like a bee and with two dreadful ears and his hair painted in all colors with a dragon's tail"

Jacques Albin Simon Collin de Plancy (1793 – 1881)'s Dictionnaire infernal was among the first to depict Beelzebub literally as a fly. No duck feet, no lion's mane. Just a fly.

Still better than this.

As Plancy was a skeptic influenced by Voltaire, the book was first intended as a folklore compilation but was later modified to fit with Roman Catholic theology after he converted, much to the consternation of his admirers. Many of his lurid illustrations later appeared in S. L. MacGregor Mathers's edition of The Lesser Key of Solomon...for better or for worse.

Put Adrammelech in Helluva Boss you cowards.

So basically, Beelzebub has been a public domain character since before King Tut was laid in his golden sarcophagus, and people have been just making shit up about him for millennia. What's your favorite depictation of Beelzebub? This is mine:

Nothing beats 2nd Edition Dungeons & Dragons artwork.

[not-quite-there-myself]

helloooo, if thats ok, id like to request something with square mutton fish/male reader! could be anything :)!!!! i rarely see any content of him ^^ love your writing btw!!!!

PORTRAIT PAINTING

After telling him that you wanted to see original art instead of his forgeries for once, Square Mutton Fish ends up painting a portrait of you. He does, and... he ends up liking it a little too much. The painting, of course. Definitely not because the subject was you. Totally not.

A/N: Aww anon I'm happy to hear that (seriously, that made my day)! Square Mutton Fish is definitely underrated, and he actually happens to be a favourite of mine. Made this silly drabble with him because of that, though it ended up being different than I originally intended (please help me I didn't mean for this to be 1k words).

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

"What?!" Square Mutton Fish yelled, stepping back in a rather dramatic manner. "You're telling me you, my amazing master attendant of all people, have never had your portrait painted?!"

It was another day when you and your Food Soul, Square Mutton Fish, had been talking about his... unique, shall we say, line of work. As you came to learn, he was a skilled artist—that was the only thing the two of you could agree upon with 100% certainty. Square Mutton Fish would have honestly been happy if the two of you left the conversation at just that: his artistic talent. Unfortunately for him, you also happened to pick up on the fact that he didn't always use that talent of his for good.

Forgery was something you weren't exactly fond of, so it was no surprise that you chastised him when he reluctantly admitted to his scamming side hustles. No matter how much he tried to convince you it was honest work, you shut him down immediately. It didn't help that he often got into trouble with scammed victims he couldn't run from. Whenever he came back from one, you were like a parent punishing their kid from stealing from a candy store, hands on your hips and making him work double time on chores around the restaurant. But he wasn't just going to give up doing it just because you told him to.

You sighed. "Honestly, with all the trouble you get yourself into, you really oughta use that art talent for original work, not forgeries." Square Mutton Fish suddenly perked up when you added, "I'd like to see some of your own art for once..."

A grin appeared on the Food Soul's face. "Well, why don't I make one just for you?"

And that's where the two of you stand now.

He'd suggested painting a portrait of you, because what better model to have other than his dear attendant? Surely you'd like a painting of yourself, right? Especially with how you mentioned his creative talents and all... But you shook your head, declining his offer. You told him that you probably wouldn't be the best muse—you've never had yourself painted before, actually. You weren't sure if you'd be able to sit still for so long, nevermind keep the same position.

Incredulous by your nonchalant reply, he decided that that just wouldn't do. "Come now, Master Attendant. Why don't I do the honours of painting you?" He seemed all the more eager now, and claimed to be up for a challenge. With a bit more pushing and prodding, you gave in and agreed to his request.

Who knew it would end up backfiring on him?

Gathering all his supplies, you and Square Mutton Fish agreed on a time in the afternoon where you both would be available, and away from all the hustle and bustle of the busy restaurant and the even busier streets. You went out to a grassy clearing nearby, and, making sure there weren't any Fallen Angels near by, met with Square Mutton Fish.

He had already made himself a little area to put his paints and brushes, plus a wooden chair in front of an easel for you to sit on. He waved to you as you came over, carrying a blank canvas under his arm. From the way he peered at you, he could tell that you were probably regretting your decision to agree to his silly request. He seemed adamant on keeping you seated though, a cheeky grin on his face as he put a hand on your shoulder.

"Having second thoughts, Master Attendant? You better not! You agreed to this and I've already set up everything."

Well, it's not like you were gonna back down now.

As the sun gradually went down, you watched as Square Mutton Fish's eyes alternated from the canvas to you. He worked swiftly, mixing paints and switching brushes, but you couldn't help but think that after all this time, he'd been staring at you for a little longer than necessary. It got to a point where you worried he was spacing out or tired and questioned him about it.

"Huh? N-nope! Nothing's wrong, Master Attendant! Don't worry, you look great!" He'd shake it off and tell you it was just an artist at work, to not worry your little head about it and trust the process! It takes time to create perfection, you know. And it's definitely not taking longer than normal because it's difficult for a skilled artist like him to paint someone he finds attractive. Wait, what?

At some point, he let it slip, a frown on his face as he struggled with finding the right colour for your clothes.

"Tsk-tsk, if only he wasn't so handsome, this wouldn't be as complicated..."

"What was that?"

"Wh-what was what? Just keep still, Master Attendant. I'm almost done~"

The relief that washed over you when he told you you could move after so long was astounding. Stretching felt amazing, and you swore that if anyone ever asked to have you pose for a portrait painting again, you'd never agree. You went over to look at the finished product and was pleasantly surprised with what you saw.

"Oh, this looks wonderful!" You complimented, taking the painting off the easel with great care. You made sure not to touch the paint as it was still in the middle of drying. The colours and the proportions were perfect, and the way the paints blended in together seemed almost effortless. It looked so real that if you didn't know any better, you'd think you were looking in a mirror. He really was talented.

Square Mutton Fish had a hand under his chin the whole time, an indiscernible expression on his face. It honestly surprised you that he could get so quiet. You grimaced at the thought that he might not be happy with it. You held up the painting for a side by side comparison. "You're not going to make me sit back down, are you?" You asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Ah, no! Not after you've sat for so long. I wouldn't make my master attendant suffer like that." He seemed to trail off despite that, drifting back into his mind's space once more. Your brows furrowed in confusion until a realization dawned on you. There was a prominent dust of pink on his cheeks that only seemed to grow the longer you stared at him, and his expression seemed almost soft.

"Are you having second thoughts, Square Mutton Fish?" You smiled slightly. His mouth struggled to come up with a reply. "You seem to like staring at me. You already have a painting right here, surely that will last longer than the real thing." You teased, "Unless you want to keep looking?"

The Food Soul let out a forced laugh, trying to buy some time to think of an excuse. "Master Attendant, you're really..." He cleared his throat, dismissing what he originally wanted to say. Instead he explained, "It's, uh... it just turned out way better than I expected it to! Yes, that's it!"

With a swift hand, Square Mutton Fish yoinked the canvas from your hands and fled the scene, leaving you, the easel, the paints, and the paint brushes alone. You also caught him say he forgot to put a seal somewhere or something. As you watched him leave, you couldn't help the small chuckle that left your lips.

It's not everyday you get to see Square Mutton Fish so flustered. Thank your lucky stars that today you managed to catch the look on his face today: incomparable to any work of art, original or forged. It was absolutely priceless.

[jossambird]

Terzo’s Hanahaki 🌿

Here is a short TerzoHanahaki one shot, Inspired by this lovely art piece, by the amazing @neonporcelain !

This piece was originally posted in a reblog of Neonporcelain’s post, but I figured Id make its own post for those wanting to read it like this!

Warning: Hanahaki Disease, angst, pain, all themes that come with Hanahaki.

((Not related to my other Ghost Hanahaki fic Rooted in your Love))

It had been on a Sunday afternoon that Terzo had begun to feel something inside him creeping up his throat.

He was no stranger to the feeling that had begun a week ago, brushing it off as he continued his Afternoon sermon to all the Siblings of Sin and Ghouls in attendance.

Briefly, he mused to himself of having to go bother his fratello Primo again for herbs that would help him- his mind stopped, eyes zeroing in on your heavenly visage, smiling oh-so softy at him, listening to- listening-

Terzo ripped his eyes away from your gaze at the reminder that he hadn't been speaking, almost too long of a pause, too awkward.

"Ha ha, perdonami, your Papa did not sleep very well. Too occupied was I in offering sinfully delicious sacrifices to our Lord." The lie slipped off his tongue as easily as it always did, his fingers moving with practiced precision, as if rubbing against a woman's gspot, laughing softly as the sound of others laughter joined his.

It was only once his eyes glided back to where you had been seated did Terzo stop grinning, gazing at the sight before him: you were no longer there, your seat at the pew now empty. You had left before his sermon ended, just like you always did.

The tingle within his esophagus continued to climb, a warning the Papa failed to understand, heart beating quickly.

-

The raven haired Papa was glad to be done his Sermon, hand shaking as he drank from the glass of water a Sibling had brought him.

Many had begun to comment on how strained his voice appeared to have become over the past few days, as if he had caught a cold, perhaps even a throat virus of some kind.

His mind drifted back to the anomaly that was you, attempting to understand why was it that you always left before the end, as if fearing the ends of his sermons. Did you dislike the words he spoke? Did you perhaps find him to be uninteresting? Did you only come to hear if his empty words held meaning, and when finding none, you left?

A noise resembling the sound of a creaking door pulled the man from his thoughts, turning to see who had re-entered-

In that blink of a second, his mind imagined it to be you; would you be standing like a fallen angel, timidly waiting at the door, as if awaiting for an invitation in? Would you smile like you always did when gazing at him, softly, kind, as if your heart warmed at the very sight of him?

His dream swiftly dissolved at the sight of Secondo's form entering the Chapel, eyebrows furrowed as he entered.

"Terzo, what are you doing? You are pale, perhaps sitting down would be-“

A cough erupted from Papa Emeritus Ill's throat, blood exiting from between his painted lips... and something else, something... soft... The man touched his lips, his glove now bloody but he cared not, dissimilar eyes focused on the bloody white petals.

Terzo payed no mind to his brother's frantic words as he advanced towards him, mismatched eyes instead choosing to continue to stare at the petals he had coughed up, blood staining them oh so prettily, almost as pretty as-

Oh.

[heavenzscent]

Working Title : OUT OF OUR HANDS

WIP Rated: M

867 

The Mountains of Hizuru were as beautiful as they had looked in the history books. He rolled down the automobiles windows to allow the crisp coastal breeze to keep him up. The trip from Odiha to Hizuru had been a last minute one without much comfort. 

13 years had passed since Eren had trampled upon the world upon the citizens of the proud nation of the North Eastern sea. Luckily most of it was located upon mountainous islands full of caves which had served as natural bunkers. What had done many of the citizens and survivors had been lack of food. But still they stood. Not as old, grand and mysterious but still just as proud. 

He pulled over into a rest stop. In the walls they would bury or burn the dead. Burials where costly because their was little room for cemeteries it needed to be made useful. Here the cemeteries where different they where streaming with life, trees, ponds and hillsides. They doubled as parks. This one was dedicated to the victims of the rumbling. 

Their where statues made of marble and bronze of angels. Shoguns, emperors and heroes of the past. Alongside statues of those who had fallen from familymen who always helped the community and grandma’s. Their stories written on plaques in both Hizuruan and Eldian. Every tree and statue had a story written upon it. Some where beginning to grow out of eyelevel becoming last to future eyes. 

In the center was a large marble structure that contained all the names of those lost in Hizuru in their complicated writing. 

“Ambassador!” 

He turned around and nodded his head at the frantic scout who he had left asleep in his backseat. 

“Please -uh– refrain from leaving sir.” 

“Sorry Yua. Just needed to stretch.” 

“Don’t do it again. It’s my job to protect you.” The young scout insisted. 

He sighed. Even during a time of relative peace in an empty park a soldiers duty never seased he supposed. 

“I used to be a soldier too yuh know?” 

“This is my first mission out the castle and My Empress trusted me with you.” 

Jean cocked his brow and huffed from his nose. Mikasa had

“Do you happen to know the reason for this visit.” 

The Yua simply shrugged in reply suddenly unable to look him in the eye. 

“How old are you, Miss Tanaka?” He asked taking one last look at the memorial. 

“18 years.” 

He hummed. She had been 5 at the time. He turned around and followed her back to the automobile. 

859

The palace was lovely and fresh but it lacked the grandeur of the original which he had only seen in paintings and photographs but one day it would be. Kiyomi boasted about how the building of the palace was part of the economic plan. It was a joint project between Paradise and Hizuru, the first of many she hoped. The lumber had been issued from the island and some of the stone as well. 

It had been a tactic to show peace and to share access to Hizurus knowledge and  industry. 

The workers who built it were in contract to work on all co-country projects and many of those in the village were on the state's payroll. 

Unlike Eldian palaces that were closed off and tall like fortresses the structure was wider, only going as high as three stories but usually just two . 

“How was it?” He asked Mikasa once they were left to themselves. She had been so quiet but her eyes looked so inquisitive the whole tour. 

“I wish we had more time to see it …before.” Jean nodded in agreement. “But I try not to dwell, I don’t like getting angry at him.” Jean nodded again. He understood it was a useless sort of anger. 

“Hey.” Jean whispered. Mikasa leaned in her face perplexed over the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Ring the bell.” He smirked, pointing at the button. 

“It’s my first night here.” Mikasa rolled her eyes. 

“Come on.” Jean pleaded. 

It didn’t take much convincing.Mikasa never needed much convincing when it came to Jean. 

Within the hour they had a cart full of food and drinks wheeled into their room by an awestruck servant girl who spoke slightly broken but good Eldian. They asked her to join them as they ate dessert and asked her about life in Hizuru, working at the palace and her life. 

To both Jean and Mikasa’s surprise what she said aligned closely with Kiyomis version of the truth. 

867

Once entering the grounds he saw her sons first. The twins, So and Kaito, were hitting a topiary with wood swords as their older brother, Wren, was supervising, pointing every which way yelling unintelligible commands. 

He had thought that he would resent maybe even hate the boys but he quickly found that he could never hate anything that came from Mikasa.

Yua yelled in Hizuran once the twins began climbing the decorative tree and bending it into odd shapes , causing Wren to begin crying and hollering to try to gain his authority back over the younger boys. 

The twins screamed and laughed until they recognized Yua stomping towards them. 

“See this is why I need a promotion.” She said in annoyance although her lips were tugged slightly upwards. 

Jean stopped to wait for Yua to fish the boys out of the bushes. 

He looked down, swearing he heard a small thump. 

Wren was standing in front of him as stiff and straight as he could muster and was giving him the old military salute of the walls. 

Jean mimicked the gesture and bowed. “Crowned Prince Wren.” He addressed the boy as though he were a commander, one day he would be after all. 

“Mr.Ambassador Jean.” The boy mimicked a soldier's tone. Jean tried his best not to laugh at the stern little boy. 

“How have you been? It's been five months.”  

“Yes, since the winter.” Wren was smart. Some six year olds barely knew the months or their birthdays. But the prince was smart like both his mother and father. 

“How has everything been since winter?” 

“I started mine schooling with the other children. Kaito and So still learn with the ummm babies.” Wren seemed quite smug. “My Hizuran and Eldian are very good my mommy and father say so. Oh! A-and uhhh Miss Ao is upset at father right now!”  

“Huh, why?”Jean asked, trying not to seem too interested.

Ao Tanaka was the emperor's mistress and very much the love of his life. At first Jean had hated the man for not loving Mikasa. The emperor had the person in which Jean coveted and was practically spitting upon the blessing. But with time he saw that the arrangement seemed to work for everyone and that the world was larger than what he had been raised to know after all. 

Ao was a kind woman and had been from the emperors home village in the countryside. They had grown up together and at one point thought they would make a life together.That was until the rumbling happened and he became the best and most supported candidate to lead the nation.

He was a kind man as well; Jean supposed. 

He wondered what that bastard had done. Ao can barely swat a fly without looking guilty; he couldn't imagine her being angry.Espcially not enough for even the kids to take notice.  

“I’m not sure… maybe you can cheer her up. Your very funny uncle!” 

“What happened to Ambassador.” Jean faked indignation. Wren simply laughed. He was a confident little boy. Most kids needed an adult on their knees to feel comfortable speaking but Wren could hold a conversation looking up with complete ease and cheerfulness. 

“I’ll try my best.” Jean bowed deeply which made the boy giggle with delight. No one really bowed to him unless the event was formal. Both Mikasa and her husband agreed that it would spoil the boys. 

So ran up to his brother muttering some unintelligible Hizuran/Eldian mishmash of a sentence (Wren seemed to understand the bilingual squishing of words perfectly.);Jean could swear he heard the word child. 

This was followed by another scolding from Yua trying to get the twins to sit on their hands for a few minutes until they calmed down. She quickly gave Jean a glance that left him uneasy. 

“I give up! Do as you will. I need to take the ambassador to your parents. I’m going to give Chiyo a whipping later.” She announced.He supposed that had been her replacement while she undertook her first mission. 

Wren gave him and Yua a final salute before they disappeared through the heavy palace doors. 

INFO SHEET

The Imperial family of Hizuru

Her majesty the Empress  Mikasa Ackerman

His majesty the Emperor Arata Azumabito-Ito 

Crowned Prince Wren Ackerman-Ito  (both sounds Eldian for the bird and sounds Hizuran) 

Prince So Ackerman-Ito

Prince Kaito Ackerman-Ito

Courtesan to the Emperor Ao Tanaka

Yua Tanaka, Scout and serves the Imperial family. 18 years old 5 at the time of the rumbling.

Kiyomi Azumabito - states woman and ambassador   

Unified Nations Federation

Jean Kirstein, Lead Ambassador of Eldia and The Unified Nations Federation. 

Reiner Braun, Ambassador of Eldia and The Unified Nations Federation. 

Connie Springer, Ambassador of Eldia and The United Nations Federation. 

Pieck Finger, Ambassador of Eldia and The United Nations Federation

The Government of Eldia 

Queen Historia Reiss of Eldia 

Armin Arlert, Minister of the Eldian Empire.

Annie Leonhart, Retired Ambassador, Assistant and body guard to the Minister