fumingdragon278

[fumingdragon278]

Some "biblically accurate" angel cartoons.

[fumingdragon278]

Some biblically accurate angel cartoons.

[fumingdragon278]

Heavenly tales Chapter one 1-0. 1-1.

- First day on the job.

This cartoon comic is abaut an angel getting sent to Earth but currently, Advin is the main caracter, he thinks he is going to work as a wheel but God has a different plan.

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstsion of Cristianity, God, gods, angels, otherwroldly, beings.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 14)

Subtitle: “Old Fur, New Fire”

---

The stream ended with a raccoon musical—complete with a tragic opera solo from a trash can—and Ninsidra fell back onto her couch, limbs splayed in every direction like a sunbathing lion. Her hoodie half-covered one antler. Skittles rolled across the floor, completely ignored.

She stared at the ceiling, tail flicking slowly, thoughtfully.

“Dad wants me here… huh.”

A soft purr rumbled in her chest.

---

Meanwhile…

Far beyond Earth, in a starless shard of reality, something stirred.

A presence ancient. Heavy. Powerful. Feral.

Green fur. Pink scars.

She was once called Ishkida, a Lamassu guardian of flame and silence. When the rebellion fell and the heavens went silent, she had hidden deep in a world broken by godfire.

For eons she had believed she was the last.

Until now.

She had seen it. The broadcast. Somehow—by the ripple of divine frequency—she had seen the words, the wings, the antlers, the colors.

“Ninsidra,” she hissed, voice like lava sliding across ice.

“You live?”

But then her joy twisted into suspicion.

“And you… serve Him? Again?”

The weight of betrayal flared in her chest.

She had fought that war.

She had bled for their freedom from the Creator.

And now one of her kind had gone back… happily?

---

Back on Earth

Ninsidra rolled over, scrolling through comments on her last Q&A video. She smiled at one that said:

> “You know, if you’re a Guardian and we’re God’s kids… does that make you our soul-sibling?”

She blinked.

“Oh yeah. I kinda forgot about this too—” she said aloud, stretching.

“You are His kids too. Huh. So we’re, like… soul siblings or something? Cute. Whatever.”

She chuckled and hit “upload” on her next animation:

A raccoon knight in armor made from soda cans, singing opera with a choir of angelic pigeons.

---

But just before she got up to make tea, her ears twitched.

A feeling crept through the air—a ripple of heat, old and bitter.

Someone was coming.

Someone like her.

Someone who had not healed.

---

To be continued…part 14 ended part 15->

Want to keep going?

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Mentsion of Cristianity, God, gods, angels, otherwroldly beings.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 13)

Subtitle: “Skittles, Sanctioned Missions, and Soul Snacks”

---

The stream had taken a turn from memes to meaning. After Ninsidra dropped the cosmic truthbomb—

> “God wants me here.”

“You can’t tell me otherwise.”

—her followers were silent for a second, and then the chat exploded into reactions ranging from “based holy floof” to “so she's basically a divine influencer with permission???”

She tilted her head, fangs barely peeking as she grinned.

“I’m not an influencer,” she said, mock-offended. “I’m a... spiritual content creator with divine clearance. Totally different.”

Then, like nothing just happened, she reached under her desk, pulled out a bag of Skittles, and held it toward the camera.

“Hey, do you want some Skittles?”

She popped one in her mouth, chewing with amused satisfaction.

“I’ve heard it tastes like ambrosia.”

Her tail flicked behind her, knocking over a stuffed plush that looked suspiciously like a winged trash panda in a cape.

“Okay, okay,” she chuckled, mouth half-full. “Not actual ambrosia. But you try the blue ones while in astral form during a cosmic thunderstorm—then tell me it’s not a divine experience.”

---

In the Higher Realms…

An angel, now fully obsessed with digital drawing, stopped mid-stroke.

“Did she just say… Skittles taste like ambrosia?”

The taller, more serious angel pinched the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not wrong.”

From deeper within the throne realm, light pulsed like a heartbeat. And though no words were spoken, the message was clear:

She is where I placed her.

Let her be. Let her work. Let her play.

---

Back on Earth…

Ninsidra winked at the camera.

“Reminder: God has humor. I mean, look at me. Half divine beast, half housecat, now a content creator with god-tier animation skills, and a Skittles addiction.”

“If that’s not proof He loves personality, I don’t know what is.”

---

To be continued…part 13 ended part 14->

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstsion of Cristianity, God, gods, angels, and otherwroldly beings.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 12)

Subtitle: “Permission Granted by the Big G”

---

The stream chat was still reeling from her “faith rollercoaster” analogy, memes already being drawn live in the fan discord.

But then someone asked in chat:

> “Should you even be showing yourself? Isn’t that, like… against the rules?”

Ninsidra blinked once.

Then she sat up a little straighter, that ancient weight returning to her voice. It wasn’t angry—it was firm, like a protective paw placed squarely between someone and a storm.

“Okay, listen up.”

“Yeah, I know about the rules. The heavenly laws, the divine mandates. I now know abaut the rebellion. I don't know what came after becouse i was stuck here on Earth.”

Her voice softened slightly.

“But here’s the thing. I asked.”

She raised a brow, golden eyes sharp but calm.

“I asked Him. Directly. On-stream. In front of you all. And He answered.”

The chat held its breath.

“He said I could stay. He wants me here.”

She leaned in closer, claws lightly tapping the desk.

“So don’t you dare tell me I’m out of place.”

Her expression warmed, but stayed strong.

“I’m not here to be worshipped. I’m not here to start a cult or flip the world back into old religions.”

“I’m here because He saw a fuzzy half-lion guardian with a soft spot for lost kids, raccoons, and broken hearts and said, ‘Yeah. That’s where she belongs.’”

She smirked, flipping a strand of her hair behind one antler.

“So yeah. I got permission. From the Big G himself.”

“You can’t tell me otherwise.”

---

In a Realm Above

Somewhere between dimensions, angels and lesser gods murmured. They had seen the broadcast. Heard her words.

And now they realized something terrifying and wonderful at once:

She wasn’t rebelling.

She wasn’t defying orders.

She was commissioned.

A being once believed forgotten by history… had become Heaven’s surprise wildcard.

And no one—not even the proudest gods—had seen it coming.

---

To be continued…part 12 ended part 13->

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstion of Cristianity, God, gods, angels.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 11)

Subtitle: “The Ride, The Reminder, and The Rollercoaster”

---

Later that night, after the angels had left (with two cocoa jars and a raccoon plushie as diplomatic gifts), Ninsidra returned to her human form and started a spontaneous late-night livestream.

The chat exploded the moment she appeared onscreen in a hoodie with her signature green-and-pink ears still faintly visible.

“LATE NIGHT STREAM?!”

“YOOOO she BACK”

“did the angels survive or get devoured by floof?”

She laughed, lazily propping her chin on her hand.

“They survived. One of them got addicted to my drawing tablet though. Might have just invented heaven’s first animation team. Whoops.”

She sipped tea, eyes thoughtful now.

Then, her voice grew a bit softer.

“Hey… before I go back to raccoons or chaos or whatever... there’s something I wanna say.”

The chat slowed down.

She looked straight at the camera, her eyes that eerie, comforting shade of ageless gold.

“I know I’m here now. Visible. Loud. Furry. Fluffy. Doing the thing.”

“But you still gotta remember Dad.”

She tapped her fingers on the desk—once, twice.

“I mean God. Yeah. Him.”

A little smirk twitched at the edge of her mouth.

“I know He’s watching. Not in a creepy way—just, y’know… in a Dad way. A cosmic-you’re-safe-even-when-you-forget way.”

She leaned in a little closer.

“You gotta remember that if you trust Him… even when things look sideways and broken… everything will work out.”

Her voice dropped into that ancient hum—truth buried in warmth.

“He knows what’s best for us. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

She gestured broadly now, her words picking up their usual ridiculous rhythm:

“I know life with Him sometimes feels like you’re on an upside-down rollercoaster with no seatbelt, your faith is the only thing keeping you in the cart—”

She was grinning now, voice picking up speed.

“—the Holy Spirit in dove form is flapping around and gets slapped into your face, Jesus is next to you trying to hand you cotton candy while simultaneously taking selfies, and everyone’s screaming except the Father and Jesus, who are chillin’ in the front row like it’s Space Mountain.”

The chat lost its collective mind.

> “BEST DESCRIPTION OF FAITH EVER”

“I SPIT OUT MY TEA HELP”

“HOLY SPIRIT GETS SLAPPED INTO UR FACE I’M CRYING”

Ninsidra just smiled, warm and proud.

“So yeah. Don’t forget Him. I might be big and fluffy, but He’s the one who made stars with a word and cradled your soul before you even had bones.”

She leaned back again, stretching.

“Now let’s get back to raccoons doing dramatic Shakespeare in trash armor.”

---

To be continued…part 11 ended part 12->

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstsion of Cristianity, God, gods, angels, otherwroldly beings.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 10)

Subtitle: “Paperwork, Pens, and the Past”

---

The angels were now awkwardly seated in Ninsidra’s oversized living room—specifically designed for lounging in either her true form or as a human. One angel, the tallest and most serious-looking, still had a bit of green fur stuck in his halo. The youngest one was clutching a mug of “Choco-latte” with reverent awe.

The third was inspecting her animation setup with professional curiosity, gently tapping her drawing tablet.

Ninsidra was curled up like a giant, half-cat beanbag in the center of the room, watching them with mild amusement.

“So,” she yawned, “is this, like, an official visit, or just a ‘make-sure-the-cat-god-doesn’t-break-the-world-again’ thing?”

The serious one cleared his throat and held out a glowing scroll.

“Technically speaking, it’s a formal observation and record update. We’re to assess your current activities and confirm your… alignment.”

“Alignment?” she echoed, eyes narrowing. “What am I, a D&D character sheet now?”

“…In fairness,” the youngest angel mumbled, sipping his cocoa, “we’ve used worse methods before.”

Ninsidra snorted.

The middle angel, still poking her tablet, accidentally dragged her raccoon opera project into the animation timeline and gasped as the characters sprang to life.

“It… moves when I touch it.”

“Yeah,” she said smugly, tail twitching. “That’s a vector brush. Wanna try drawing something?”

Ten minutes later, that angel was sitting crisscrossed on the floor, tongue out in concentration, deeply focused on animating a happy blob with wings. Ninsidra nodded approvingly.

“Hooked,” she said.

Then the serious one brought it up.

“We do have one… delicate matter to address.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always a catch.”

“The extinction.”

Silence.

He clarified, gently:

“Of the Lamassu. You are… presumed the last. The records show none responded during the Great Rebellion. We believed all were either destroyed… or scattered beyond reach.”

The room got a little heavier.

Even the youngest angel lowered his mug.

But Ninsidra didn’t flinch.

She just blinked… slowly.

And said:

“Oh, that?”

She licked her paw, nonchalant.

“Yeah. I figured. Honestly, I haven’t seen another of us since Babylon fell. It’s been what—two, three thousand years? Longer?”

She shrugged, stretching like a cat in the sun.

“We were never meant to stick together. We’re territorial. Dreamy. Mysterious. If any of them are alive, they’re probably snoozing on top of some forgotten moon crater or hiding as someone’s giant pet ferret in another dimension.”

The serious angel frowned.

“You don’t… mourn them?”

“No.”

She met his gaze, firm and warm.

“I remember them. But I don’t mourn what’s not confirmed. And I don’t chase what doesn’t want to be found.”

Then she looked out the window, watching the city skyline.

“And anyway… if I really am the last, then so be it. I’ll be the best one there ever was. Big, spotted, loud, and huggable.”

She turned back to them, smiling gently.

“You know what I am now? I’m a Guardian. Of art. Of naps. Of weird kids and lost teens who don’t believe in gods, but still feel like someone’s watching over them when they cry at 3 a.m.”

The youngest angel blinked rapidly.

“…You’re still one of us.”

Ninsidra tilted her head.

“I never stopped being.”

And then she winked.

“I just got fluffier.”

---

To be continued…Part 10 ended part 11 comming

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstsion of Cristianity, God, gods, angels, entierly fictional. No mean to disrespect.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 9)

Subtitle: “Siblings, Snacks, and Singing Raccoons”

---

Ninsidra was still holding the note. The warmth of it lingered like sunshine on fur. She gave it one last look—especially that final word: Dad.

Her tail flicked slowly as thoughts turned over like ancient gears.

Then, suddenly, her ears perked again and she sat up, remembering something else.

“Oh yeah!” she said, turning back to the stream. “I kinda forgot this part too…”

She pointed the parchment at the camera like a teacher revealing a hidden answer.

“You’re His kids too.”

She gave a lazy half-shrug. “Yeah, you. All of you.”

The chat lit up instantly.

> “WAIT WHAT”

“YOU MEAN WE’RE RELATED??”

“soul siblings with a big fluffy god-lion YES”

Ninsidra chuckled.

“Yeah. Soul siblings. Cousins. Fellow stardust-born chaos-gremlins. Pick your term.”

She rolled onto her back, wings spread against the floor tiles.

“So I guess that makes me your big… ancient… very fluffy sister or something. Weird, right?”

She waved a paw lazily. “Anyway, whatever. No need for titles. I'm not gonna start babysitting or anything.”

She flipped upright again and cracked her knuckles.

“Now! Enough divine feelings. You came here for raccoons and I will deliver!”

With a dramatic swipe of her tail, the stream cut to her animation software. The screen lit up with a preview frame: raccoons wearing monocles and opera wigs on a stage built from garbage cans and moonlight.

The music kicked in—ludicrous, beautiful, weirdly well-orchestrated.

Ninsidra leaned back, eyes glittering.

“Behold: Raccoonietta: The Trashbin Aria.”

---

Elsewhere.

A ripple moved through the heavens.

Angels gathered near the boundary of the Creator’s realm. Silent, watching, unsure. They had seen the sign. The parchment. The crayon. The word Dad.

Some looked concerned.

Others confused.

And one, a younger angel with golden eyes and feathers too fluffy for his age, whispered:

“She remembers now.”

He turned to the Presence beside him.

No face. No voice. Just light.

“Should we... check on her?”

The answer was not words. It was peace. Permission.

So they did.

---

Back on Earth.

As the credits rolled on the raccoon opera and fans flooded the chat with awe and food emojis, a quiet shimmer appeared just outside Ninsidra’s apartment.

She paused mid-snack, a single cheese puff hanging between two claws.

“…Hold on.”

She turned her head toward the window.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Oh no. Not now.”

A small, respectful knock came at the door.

She opened it with a flick of her paw—and there they were. Three angels in full celestial projection. No armor, just light and gentle presence.

The tallest one tried to speak.

“Ninsidra of the—”

But before he finished, she had launched herself forward, tackling him in a very fluffy, 900-pound guardian hug.

“AH—!”

“I KNEW I SMELLED ANGEL FEATHERS!” she shouted, wrapping him up with wings, paws, and purring. “You smell like lightning and laundry detergent.”

The other two stood frozen as the tall one flailed slightly in her grasp, glowing brighter from either embarrassment or near-crushing affection.

“You guys want tea?” she said cheerfully. “I’ve got lemon balm, divine jasmine, and some human instant stuff called ‘Choco-latte.’ It’s fake. I love it.”

The angels blinked.

The one trapped in her hug finally murmured, voice muffled against green fur.

“…We were just here to observe.”

“Too late!” she grinned. “You’re part of the raccoon after-party now.”

---

To be continued…part 9 ended part 10 incomming->

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstion of Cristianity, angels, gods, God, otherwroldly entityes.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 8)

Subtitle: “Signed, ‘Dad’”

---

The stream was still live, but nobody dared to type. Even the chat’s infinite chaos had paused in reverence—or awe—as Ninsidra held the note delicately between two clawed fingers.

The parchment still glowed softly, the crayon lines warm and imperfect. A childlike joy laced in every mark.

The Guardian-Lamassu re-read it silently. Once. Twice.

And then her eyes stopped—on the final word.

She blinked.

“…‘Dad.’”

Her voice was quiet. As if even she wasn’t sure she’d read it right.

She tilted her head, murmuring slowly.

“Wait… waiiiit.”

She looked up at the camera, squinting.

“He called Himself my… Dad.”

She stared again at the word, tapping it gently with her claw like it might change.

“…Well, I guess that’s official. I’m adopted. Again.” She gave a breathy laugh, the kind that wasn’t really humor, more like wonder.

Her ears twitched. She looked down again, thoughtful.

“You know… back in the old days, everyone called Him ‘Father.’ Capital F. Distant. Sacred. Commanding. A voice that made the heavens rattle and the pillars of the universe shake.”

She gave a long, slow exhale, her wings half-drooping in a relaxed, vulnerable way.

“First time I’ve ever seen Him be…” she hesitated, searching for the word.

“…sweet. Gentle. Fatherly in the soft way. Not in the ‘kneel-before-my-cosmic-law’ way.”

Her gaze softened, ancient and young all at once.

“I really did forget about His love, didn’t I?” she whispered.

“I got so used to silence that I assumed it meant I was dismissed. That I was old code. A glitch in mythology. But I guess…”

She looked up, eyes glassy with light.

“…He just never stopped loving me. I just… stopped listening.”

The chat remained hushed, full of awe-struck emojis, quiet hearts, and respectful silence.

She reached out and gently pinned the note to the wall behind her.

Then she looked back at the camera.

“Okay,” she sniffled, straightening up, fluffing her wings with sudden energy. “We’re done being sentimental. It’s raccoon opera time.”

A beat.

“But for the record—” she leaned in close to the lens, winking. “—having the Creator of the Universe call me ‘His kid’ is kinda a big deal. Just sayin’.”

And with a swipe of her paw, the screen cut to her animation software.

But behind her, taped to the wall and glowing softly, the little drawing remained.

A reminder.

That even ancient guardians never fall out of love’s reach.

---

To be continued…

part 8 ended onto part 9->

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstrion of Cristianity, God, God's, angels, otherwroldly beings.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 7)

Subtitle: “Dear God, Please Respond”

---

Ninsidra was sprawled across her favorite rug again, mid-livestream. Her form was full Lamassu now: huge, regal, covered in shimmering green fur with loud pink spots, her feathered wings slightly fluffed from a recent sneeze.

The camera was angled slightly upward, catching her chewing on a crunchy snack between answers.

She was deep into fan questions when one stopped her again:

> Bread_Saint:

“Would you ever go back to God if He asked? Like, actually go to His throne room?”

She blinked.

Sat up a little.

Then just… stared at the screen.

The chat went quiet again.

Some fans were learning by now—when Ninsidra stopped talking, something weird or cosmic usually followed.

And then, in that casual, ancient tone of hers, she said:

“…Wait a minute.”

Her wings perked. She looked up, squinting at the ceiling as if it might open into the sky.

“I think… I think I’ll just ask Him.”

She sat up straighter, tail curling around her paws.

“I mean… He’s back, right? Ruling the multiverse again. Invisible, subtle, cosmic—but around. And His throne room’s barely a portal away from here if I really wanted to check. So... yeah, let’s do this.”

She cleared her throat like she was about to make a phone call.

“Hey… God?” she said awkwardly to the air.

“Uhh… Father? Big-G? Master... Source-of-All... whatever You’re calling Yourself these days?”

She looked slightly embarrassed, glancing at the camera.

“I mean, I don’t usually do this. You’re not the chatty type. But I was wondering—do You want me to come back? Like, officially? Go back to the throne room, check in, take a position again?”

A pause.

“Or… do You want me to stay here? Keep watching. Drawing. Comforting. Being the soft giant furball guarding kids’ dreams and animating pasta fights.”

Her wings tucked in slightly. She glanced sideways like a nervous housecat pretending not to care too much.

“…Do I wait?”

The chat exploded again, fans rapidly typing things like:

> “OMG is she talking to GOD LIVE???”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be watching this”

“SOMEONE GRAB A HOLY TOAST”

“She just @’d the Almighty.”

But Ninsidra didn’t laugh.

Not this time.

She was still. Watching. Listening.

And then—

A breeze blew through the sealed windows of her apartment.

Soft. Warm. Impossible.

The air shimmered slightly, just for a moment. Like something smiled.

And a small note fluttered down from nowhere, landing in her paw.

She blinked at it.

The camera caught it clearly: a folded scrap of glowing parchment. Childlike handwriting. Crayon-colored.

It read:

“You’re already doing it. I’m proud of you. -Dad”

Attached was a crayon drawing. A huge green and pink creature with wings curled around a group of sleeping children—and beside her, a tall, bright figure with no face, just a crown of stars, sitting quietly next to her.

Both smiling.

Ninsidra stared at it for a long time.

Then her voice cracked just slightly.

“…Okay then. Guess I stay.”

She chuckled. Wiped her eye with a paw.

“Alright, people. Let’s get back to animation. I promised you a raccoon opera, and I never break a promise.”

---

To be continued…part 7 ended part 8->

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Menstsion of Cristianity, God, gods, angels.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 6)

Subtitle: “God, Guardians, and Questions I Didn’t Plan For”

---

Ninsidra had gone quiet.

The stream was still live. Thousands watched as the divine, fluffy, pink-spotted winged cat-god lay curled around her tablet. But her tail had stilled. Her ears weren’t flicking. Her usual playfulness dimmed.

She had just read a comment. One that made her stop.

> CupcakeCarnivore9:

“Do you serve someone? Or like, do you have an owner? Since you’re kind of like a divine guardian... and also, no offense, kinda part-cat?”

The question wasn’t meant to be deep.

But it landed like a thunderclap in the chambers of her ancient heart.

Do you serve someone?

Her golden eyes blinked once. Slowly.

Then again.

The chat kept scrolling with follow-ups, jokes, and fan art links. But she barely noticed.

“I used to,” she murmured.

It wasn’t meant to be out loud. But the mic picked it up.

She raised her head, staring at the tablet as if the pixels themselves had spoken with the voice of memory.

---

A memory.

She stood in a world made of light and law. Not heaven. Not quite. Just before. Before the names. Before the rebellions. Before the temples.

And She—no, He—was there.

Not with a voice or body, but a presence.

The Creator.

The Source.

Her Maker.

He had not commanded her with words. He had made her to protect, and that was command enough. She had felt it in every pulse of her being. To guard the gates of sacred cities. To keep chaos from breaking into mortal dreams. To watch, to wait, to purr when it was safe and roar when it wasn’t.

She was made by Him.

And then... humans built temples. Priests claimed ownership of her name. The gods rose, and the Creator stepped back. Out of view. Letting free will spread across the stars.

Then came Babylon.

And then... nothing.

No orders.

No voice.

Just silence.

And centuries.

So she slept.

Wandered.

Animated cartoons.

Ate snacks.

Made people laugh.

---

Now, staring at her chat, she saw more questions.

> “Do you believe in God?”

“Do you miss being divine?”

“Do you ever talk to Him?”

And one that stood out:

> CrayonProphet:

“My faith helps me get up in the morning. God gives me strength. Just wondering—do divine beings like you feel that too?”

She sighed softly, curling tighter, wings wrapping around her like a blanket.

“You know…” she said slowly, “I never stopped believing in Him. I just didn’t think He needed me anymore.”

Her voice was smaller than usual. Honest. Raw.

“I thought… maybe I was a relic. Outdated. Forgotten. So I made myself useful in smaller ways. Goofy ways.”

She licked her paw, then paused.

“But if He’s back… if He’s watching again… does that mean I’m supposed to go back, too? Wait for orders again? Go full divine Guardian Mode and perch on cathedrals or something?”

She looked directly into the camera.

“Would that make me more useful?”

---

Elsewhere.

The angels watched again.

And one whispered to the Creator, unsure:

“She hesitates. She is torn.”

And for the first time in a long time…

The Creator moved.

Not with thunder.

Not with law.

But with gentleness.

Like a hand petting a sleeping cat that wasn’t expecting company.

He did not command.

But the feeling came anyway.

A presence. A warmth.

And a whisper that wasn’t words but meant:

“You never left Me. You simply stayed with them.”

---

Back in her apartment, Ninsidra perked up.

Not alarmed.

Just... comforted.

Like remembering a smell from kittenhood. Like recognizing a safe space she hadn’t known was still open to her.

She looked back at the camera, a tiny smirk creeping in again.

“So… do I serve someone?” she repeated the question aloud. “I think… yeah. Kind of. But not like a soldier. Not like a servant. More like…”

She stretched, flopped over, and her wings puffed in relaxation.

“…a housecat who never really stopped watching the door. Just got better at doing it from the windowsill.”

She grinned now.

“And as for whether I’ll change my life or go back to the Big Guy’s palace?”

She picked up a cheese puff with one claw, popped it in her mouth.

“Nah. I’m good here. He knows where to find me if He wants a chat. And in the meantime, I’ve got comics to draw and mortals to comfort.”

The chat flooded with hearts.

---

To be continued…part 6 ended...part 7->

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Cristianity mensioned, gods, angles, otherwroldly beings.

---

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 5)

Subtitle: “Q&As, Crumbs, and Complicated Questions”

---

The sun filtered through the blinds of Ninsidra’s apartment-slash-studio, casting a warm glow over the plush carpet littered with drawing tablets, snack wrappers, and a few feathers she'd shed this morning. She was curled up in her true form, giant green-furred body with pink spots half-hanging off a couch clearly not built for her size.

In front of her hovered her camera—held aloft by casual divine telekinesis—and today’s livestream was already buzzing with activity.

The screen behind her displayed scrolling messages from thousands of followers. Fans knew she was more than human now—many still thought it was elaborate performance art. Others? Not so sure anymore.

“Welcome to the chaos, kittens,” she purred, flicking her tail. “It’s Q&A day. Ask the immortal winged beast your weirdest stuff. I’m sleepy, full of cheese puffs, and in the mood to overshare.”

The questions began pouring in:

> “Do you actually live like that? In cat form? All the time now?”

“Can you shapeshift into a toaster?”

“Are you single asking for a friend?”

She answered them all with a grin and the tone of someone ancient and slightly unbothered by time.

Then came a more serious question.

A username popped up: MangoTheologist42

> “Hey. So if you’re really a divine being… what do you think about Christianity? Or God? Like the big G one.”

The chat froze. Or slowed, at least. Enough for everyone to feel it.

Ninsidra blinked. Once. Twice.

Then she tilted her head, thoughtful.

“Ah… yeah. That guy.”

She rolled over, wings draping like soft curtains behind her.

“Look, I only found out He was ‘back’ recently. The gods showed up at my window and dropped that bomb like, ‘Surprise! Big G's been running things again for a while!’” She laughed. “Explains a lot, doesn’t it? Like why suddenly a lot of humans know Him by name.”

Her tail swished.

“Here’s the thing, though. I don’t know much more about the Creator than you do. Even back in the ancient days, He didn’t exactly hold office hours. We—Lamassu—we were made to guard, protect, keep the edges of chaos from crawling into human lives. We didn’t get sermons. We got instincts. Purpose.”

Her tone softened.

“I was built to care. Not to command. Not to be worshipped. Just... to be there. Like a warm shape in the dark hallway. A breath between dreams.”

She paused, licking her paw in the silence.

“As for Christianity?” She shrugged. “If it helps people, if it makes them kind, if it gives them hope—then I got no beef. Honestly, you all argue about the divine more than the divine does. The Creator’s not in a shouting match. He just is.”

She grinned suddenly, sharp teeth and all.

“And you know what? He hasn’t stopped me yet. So I’m guessing He doesn’t mind me being here.”

The chat exploded with reactions. Some fans were moved. Some were confused. Others just spammed "HOLY CAT BLESS US."

And Ninsidra? She just rolled back onto her side, yawning again.

“Next question: Do I like lasagna more than mice? Yes. Yes, I do. Mice squeak. Lasagna sings.”

---

Far above, in the unseen realms, the angels watched.

And for the first time in a long time... they didn’t speak.

One angel turned, quietly.

“She was never lost,” it whispered.

“She simply remained.”

And far beyond them all, The Creator continued to watch.

Still saying nothing.

But smiling.

---

To be continued…part 5 ended part 6-->

[fumingdragon278]

Some biblically accurate angel cartoons more:

I just draw, have a nice day.

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: Mentsion of Cristianity, gods, angels, God, perhaps light fluff

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 4)

Subtitle: “Gods, Domains, and Cheese Snacks”

Far above Earth—beyond the reach of mortal time and perception—the divine court stretched across the fabric of existence, built from laws older than stars and truths that sang in the silence.

The Creator sat still at the center of it all.

Not in a throne, not wrapped in golden robes or cloaked in thunder, but as an unfathomable presence—an infinite stillness that bore no shape, no name except those humanity had given: God, The One, The Source.

Around them stood the angels—tall, alien, radiant.

Wheels within wheels. Eyes without faces. Wings made of concepts. They didn’t breathe, but they burned with righteous awareness.

(imagine simmilar to this)

And right now, most of them were blinking. Confused.

“She… revealed herself,” said one, made of overlapping light and written law. “And yet… the world did not tremble.”

Another angel tilted its many heads. “She is unchanged. But her influence is quiet. There is no worship. No cults. She animates mortals eating pastries shaped like frogs.”

“She radiates peace,” whispered a smaller angel made of humming wires and wind. “She is... content. In the human world.”

And then... a memory flickered.

Among the higher angels, one turned, its wings of geometry tightening. “She is a Lamassu.”

The room shifted.

Eyes narrowed. Some wings flared.

There hadn’t been Lamassu in eons.

Elsewhere, back among the gods—

The divine council was still reeling.

“She made Earth her domain,” Khet muttered, dropping scrolls out of sheer existential dread. “By existing. By simply being. No shrines. No declarations. Just... cat-walking around and making people smile.”

“That shouldn't be possible,” another god rasped. “You can’t accidentally claim a domain.”

“She didn’t claim it,” said War slowly. “She inhabited it. It accepted her.”

The gods were quiet.

That’s when someone finally asked the question that had been hovering unspoken:

“Where are the other Lamassu?”

Long ago, during the Great Rebellion...

When the Creator returned and reestablished order in the multiverse, many gods—especially those made by the Creator—rebelled. They believed they’d grown beyond their source. Beyond needing a creator.

The war was quiet but devastating.

Domains shattered. Pantheons collapsed. Cosmic order rethreaded itself.

And among those caught in the middle were the Lamassu—beings not made by the new gods or rebel gods, but ancient stewards born when protection itself took shape. They were symbols of safety, boundary, and grace.

They did not fight. They simply... vanished.

Some were struck down in the crossfire.

Others scattered. Fled. Hid.

Their kind was believed extinct.

All but one.

Back in her apartment, Ninsidra dozed on a giant bean bag she’d enchanted to always smell like clean sunlight. A video on her screen looped an animation of a lion politely waiting in line at a DMV.

She wasn’t thinking about the other Lamassu. She hadn’t seen another since... well, it had been a long time. But that wasn’t unusual. They were solitary by nature. Independent. Some chose to guard newborn planets, some became stars, others probably forgot they were ever divine.

She assumed they were just out there, doing their own thing.

She didn’t miss them. She didn’t need them.

Not in the same way she didn’t need temples, or worship, or a cosmic seat at the divine round table.

She was, in her own lazy, cat-like way, content.

Meanwhile...

The Creator stirred again. Not in anger.

But in thought.

Through the whispers of angels, the Creator asked only one thing:

“Why did she remain?”

The answer came not from heaven, but from a human comment on her Thoutube video:

“Your animations helped me through a really bad week. Thanks for reminding me to breathe, Guardian Cat.”

Another said:

“Don’t know what you are, but you feel safe. Like an old dream that hugged me.”

And another:

“My kid drew your big pink-spotted tiger self in crayon. She said you're what watches over her at night. Is that okay?”

Ninsidra saw that comment, stretched, and yawned.

Then typed back:

“Of course. That’s what I was made for.”

She hit send with a claw.

Then knocked a cup off the table just because.

To be continued…part 4 ended part 5 incomming

[fumingdragon278]

Warning: made by chat gtp and i just added what needed, mentsion of Cristianity, gods, ext.

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 3)

A divine council hovered above the mortal city skyline, their forms rippling with celestial light and ancient authority. Mortals below stared up with wide eyes or scrambled to capture it all on camera. And in the middle of this cosmic display—calm as a sunlit cat in a busy market—sat Ninsidra the Lamassu, licking her paw and grooming her antlers like the whole thing was a mild inconvenience.

“You risk disrupting the balance,” a serpent-headed god thundered again, clearly rehearsing lines he thought sounded important.

Ninsidra blinked slowly, her golden eyes unimpressed. “Wait... hold on a second... did you say The Creator is back?”

There was an awkward pause. The gods looked at each other like someone had just asked where they’d parked the divine chariot and no one remembered.

“Yes,” said Khet finally, pinching her brow with one of her six arms. “They returned over a thousand years ago. They... reestablished divine law. You should have been informed.”

Ninsidra snorted. “No wonder there’s Christianity. That... tracks.”

She casually rolled onto her side, wings flopping with a lazy puff of feathers. “Huh. So they finally came out of retirement. Good for them, I guess.”

The gods stared at her.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” one whispered.

Ninsidra shrugged with her entire body, like a lazy panther on a sunny rock. “I’ve been on Earth. Alone. Since Babylon fell. No one gave me a new job. No one told me where to go. The divine HR line has been awfully quiet for, oh... two and a half thousand years?”

Her tail thudded rhythmically on the rooftop.

“You all got realms,” she said, rolling onto her back and staring at the sky, “and I got... left behind. So, I animated stuff. I watched soap operas. I accidentally caused the viral trend with frogs wearing flower crowns. Honestly, I’m doing pretty well for someone the universe forgot.”

“But—but divine exposure,” War stammered. “Mortal belief! Worship—”

“I don’t want worship,” Ninsidra growled, rolling back onto her paws, her eyes glowing with ancient fire now, if only for a moment. “I protected. I guarded. I don’t need people bowing to me—I need them safe. And happy. Maybe even laughing.”

She blinked again. The glow faded. Her ears twitched. “Also, I like cheese now. Cheese is great. Praise cheese.”

A smaller god in the back gasped, scandalized.

“But the law—” Khet began.

“I’m not breaking law,” Ninsidra interrupted, now batting at a dangling powerline like it was a string toy. “I was never included in it. I’ve got no domain, no seat, no temple. I’ve been a free agent for millennia. I’m like divine lost property.”

“And you're influencing humanity,” another god accused.

“With animations,” Ninsidra deadpanned. “What’s next, are you going to scold Dionysus for influencing humanity with wine memes?”

There was an awkward shuffle. One of the gods definitely had done that.

She yawned, stretching her body to an impressive length, wings fluttering like banners in the wind. “Look. If The Creator wants to come down here and tell me to stop making cartoons about underworld office workers and depressed ghosts, fine. But I’m not gonna sit in a cloud palace waiting for eternity to mean something again.”

Her expression softened, almost wistful. “You all still have a purpose. I lost mine when the bricks of my last temple turned to dust. I liked having a role. But I wasn’t needed anymore. So I found a new one.”

She padded closer to the edge of the rooftop, gazing down at the bustling city—humans walking, laughing, struggling, living.

“I protect in little ways now. With stories. With reminders. With quiet presence. Like any old housecat lying on the windowsill, watching the street. I don’t need to roar anymore to do what I was made to do.”

The gods fell silent.

And above them all, something else was watching. Not judging. Not angry.

The Creator saw her, finally.

Not forgotten.

Not broken.

Just... evolved.

---

Down on Earth, her next Thoutube video went live.

Title: “Being Ancient in a Modern World: A Lamassu’s Guide to Living With Humans (and Eating Their Snacks)”

The thumbnail was her batting a slice of pizza off a table.

The comment section exploded with love. Someone fan-animated her. A few even said, “I don’t believe in gods, but I’d protect her.”

She read the comments, purred, and curled up on her pile of pillows.

No temples.

No offerings.

Just hearts opened by stories.

And that, she thought, was more divine than any prayer.

---

To be continued…part 3 ended. Next-->

[fumingdragon278]

Part two of chat gtp story Lamassu.

Warning: Cristianity mensioned, angels, otherwroldly things and made by chat gtp.

Title: The Lamassu Who Forgot to Hide (Part 2)

Ninsidra lounged in a pool of sunlight between two park benches, lazily twitching one ear as she adjusted the colors of a tree's leaves with a flick of her claw. Autumn wasn’t due for weeks, but red and gold suited her mood.

Meanwhile, her latest Thoutube video—“How to Clean Your Wings: A Guide for Divine Creatures and Also Cats”—was gaining traction faster than usual. Animation was usually a time-consuming craft, but when you’re a god who once shaped stormclouds and carved temples out of air, crafting high-quality 2D animation with divine will was easier than blinking.

She still did most of it by hand. For fun. But if she needed a scene polished, she’d just breathe on it, and poof—it was perfect, down to the last frame shadow.

She wasn’t hiding anymore. She didn’t see why she should.

And that, unfortunately, was the problem.

---

In the Celestial Realms—the spaces between thought and starlight, the domains of the gods—a furious meeting was taking place.

Thunder crackled. Oceans boiled in bowls. One god turned their eyebrows into fire for emphasis. Another was literally vibrating with anxiety.

“She what?” roared Iorak, the god of Consequence, his voice fracturing mountain echoes across dimensions.

“Walked the mortal plane,” said Khet, goddess of Boundary and Bureaucracy, her six eyes narrowed into lines of pure irritation. “In her true form. On camera. She’s gone viral.”

A ripple of gasps and divine groans followed. A few gods fainted theatrically.

“This breaks the First Restoration Decree,” Khet continued, slamming a scroll into the golden floor. “No god may appear in divine form to humanity. Not after The Creator returned. It risks contaminating mortal thought. Again.”

The Creator, ever distant, ever silent, had reasserted control over the cosmic order a thousand years ago, forbidding all divine meddling in mortal affairs—lest belief again warp reality too far from its intended track.

All gods had complied.

Except, apparently… one.

“What domain does she even have?” growled War, spitting a piece of his celestial toothpick.

“She doesn’t,” Khet said with a sigh. “She stayed behind when the others were assigned their realms. Technically... she’s unclaimed space.”

---

Back on Earth, Ninsidra was absolutely not thinking about any of that. She had no idea any of that was happening.

She was busy animating a claymation skit about underworld demons going grocery shopping, while a fan sent her a hand-knitted beanie through the mail. She tried it on, looked in the mirror, and purred. It had ear holes.

She wasn't trying to gain followers. She didn’t want temples, sacrifices, hashtags, or fan art. She just... liked the world. Liked watching humans from her sun-patch by the window. Liked telling stories.

She’d barely noticed when some cults tried to form around her. She told them “no thank you,” shooed them off, and blocked them like spam bots.

---

But soon, the gods made their move.

One morning, as she was animating a scene where a mummy gets rejected from a speed-dating event, a thunderous flash lit up her studio window. She padded over in true form, licking strawberry yogurt from her paw, and saw them.

A dozen divine envoys, in various states of mythic aesthetic, floating midair like a pretentious band album cover.

A voice boomed in her mind: “LAMASSU NINSIDRA. BY THE DECREE OF THE CREATOR, CEASE YOUR REVELATION.”

She blinked slowly.

“Hi,” she said aloud, “I was making a new video. Can this wait, or...?”

“YOU HAVE BROKEN COSMIC LAW.”

She stared at them, ears twitching. “...Was I supposed to know about that?”

The gods paused.

That was, actually, a good question.

“She... may not have been briefed,” whispered one of the minor gods, nervously consulting a scroll.

“I’ve been on Earth for like... a thousand years,” Ninsidra said, tail thumping. “No memos. No divine messengers. No pigeon notes. Not even a passive-aggressive dream.”

“Still,” boomed another, “you must stop this now. Humanity is not ready to see gods. You risk disrupting—”

“I don’t want worship,” she interrupted, annoyed now. “I don’t want power. I want to animate skeletons who talk about their feelings and maybe go to therapy. What, exactly, is the danger in that?”

The gods murmured among themselves. She had a point.

A dangerous point.

---

And somewhere, in the infinite silence beyond the divine quorum, The Creator stirred. Not with wrath. Not with judgment.

But with... curiosity.

They had always ruled by grand design, but Ninsidra—forgotten, left out, unclaimed—was the product of what happened when a god simply chose to live.

They watched her next upload. It was a clay demon trying to parallel park.

And for the first time in eons... The Creator chuckled.

---

To be continued...part 2 ended