#angel ovs

[pantakichi]

I know most of my followers follow for ew content so sorry but have this for now a wip at the moment

i havent been posted as much lately ive been busy sorry ill try and post more when i can

[heuldoch7b]

i was musing about if any of the primarchs i could associate with the unicorn (specifically as a symbol of holy purity and might, its story and representation through its capture, and how it being a mighty, powerful beast under the control and domain of the empire) and shit i mean. sanguinius? literally the jesus thing too (jesus represented thru the unicorn). BUT ALSO sanguinius being an angel in the sense of his exsistance as a tool and extention of His will (but is also stil his own individual)

i jsushsjjkwodhewpksndjw throws something. Okay.

[mercless]

🗡 mad cowboy disease....

[starryvampiris]

since Vivziepop is a terrible human being and most of her character designs are ALSO terrible, i decided to redesign one of my person LEAST favorite designs of hers, Angel Dust!!!

i personally hated all all of the colors clashed on his design, and that there’s almost no detail in his outfit despite there being so many colors and patterns 😭 he’s just……… so ugly????

SO i decided to to give him a major tweak, hope he looks alright!!!

[valscigarette]

hazbin hotel omegaverse headcanons

okay hear me out: in Hell, souls are automatically Betas unless they sell their sell or become an overlord. Selling your soul would turn you into an Omega, and becoming an overlord turns you into an Alpha. Overlords don't have to properly claim their contracted souls but some do for various reasons.

Alastor is obviously an Alpha, but he makes a point about not needing to use his dynamic to establish dominance in a situation (something he loves to lord over Vox, who he says relies on "cheap tactics")

Part of Husk's soul deal with Alastor was that, in addition to keeping his powers, he would also get to keep his Alpha dynamic and wouldn't have to change into an Omega. He'd been in Hell long enough to be worried, even if Alastor promised to protect him.

As a side note, Husk probably smells a bit like Alastor because of their contract.

While Angel is an Omega, Val would never go so far as to claim him with a bite on his neck. Val doesn't want to get that attached to him, and he's been dangling it over Angel's head for decades as something he might earn some day if he's good enough.

Vox and Velvette are Alphas as well. The Vees' ruts are synced and it makes for a wild few days.

Niffty is an Omega, Cherri is an Alpha. Although they're not a "made pair" (Cherri doesn't own Niffty's soul), they develop a really close bond after Cherri moves into the hotel.

Sir Pentious is an Alpha and he views the egg bois as his pack. He also pack bonds with the rest of the hotel residents pretty quickly because he's just that sort of guy.

Charlie is a beta, but she smells more like an Alpha so a lot of people assume she is. Lucifer and Lilith are Alphas as well.

Vaggie is also an Alpha; all angels in Heaven are Alphas, and her dynamic didn't change when she was left in Hell.

✨️I plan on writing fic for this verse ❤️‍🔥 I have some ideas but I also take requests if someone has stuff they wanna see!!! 🫶

[480pfootage]

and now i know how joan of arc felt (having a bob at 15)

judge angels design very very loosely based on joan of arc (moreso the song Bigmouth Strikes Again by The Smiths lolol)

I haven't actually.. read her story... but she looks... cool to me ok.... and the concept that i've grasped of her... I"LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT WITH HER PLOT OK

[danicalzone]

An angel and a demon walk into a Christmas party

[bpdamandayoung]

i'm so sorry if you talked to me when i truly belived i was fucking dead, sorry i was fucking crazy if i could i woud just erase the whole thing :///

[lifeofloon]

A little late to the party on this one, but I'd never been to see the Space Shuttle Endeavour in person.

Last day to see it is 12/31/23, as it will be closed the next 2 years to be put in a new museum space and mounted in "launch position" with the booster tank and rockets.

[s1x-foot-deep]

i can feel you out there

[temple-ov-saturn]

Angel of the Abyss by Joan Pope, 2021

[slrmagazine]

BEHEMOTH Announce Release Of Their 30th Anniversary Live Event "XXX Years Ov Blasphemy"

BEHEMOTH Announce Release Of Their 30th Anniversary Live Event "XXX Years Ov Blasphemy". #behemoth @BehemothBand

Polish extreme metal giants, the mighty BEHEMOTH, have announced the release of their monumental anniversary concert XXX Years Ov Blasphemy which originally streamed online in 2021. The career-spanning show, held at and filmed on three different locations, has a total running time of 90 minutes, divided into three different acts. This very special set features fan favourites as well as a few…

[fuzzyunicorn]

Since there’s a huge debate over religion vs spirituality let me, an Arch Angel who guards god and sits in on his every Judgement (meaning I know him very well), weigh in: all of you fuckers touting religion are in the wrong. Full stop & period because god never wanted religions to exist and they are a) incorrect and b) weaponized to harm all. Make no mistake this includes Christianity. To make this as short as possible (a longer explanation to come on my future podcast) let me tell you what was actually going on when god incarnated as Jesus Christ; he promoted SPIRITUALITY & PRACTICING (WHITE) MAGICK NOT RELIGION during his lifetime as I’ll say it again Jesus Christ! What makes me laugh is god does not approve of the Bible or what many Christians promote & do in his name. Did you know the Iron Pentacle (the five pointed star you all are so afraid of) was something he, god, heavily promoted in his lifetime of being Jesus Christ? So what does that mean? It means god, when he was Jesus Christ, actually was encouraging people to practice magick (specifically White Magick)— why do you think Satanists put in every religious book that magick & divinination (card reading being one method of divination) is illegal? So no one would or COULD use White Magick to heal people, animals, plants & this earth. Your Bible is a crock of shit & your religion is harmful & god does not approve. My last point I will be sharing today is Christians realize this fast as fuck— every single Christian Church (for this example I am EXCLUDING Satanists masquerading as clergymen) clergymen and parishioner PRACTICES WITCHCRAFT EACH AND EVERY SINGLE SUNDAY! Let me prove my point: what is an alter? A place to cast magick spells so witchcraft. What is the act of lighting a candle on an alter & praying? Candle magick (so witchcraft). What does burning sage or resin (tree sap like frankincense and myrrh which was gifted to baby Jesus) do (the gold thing they swing around & smoke comes out during church services)? Brings in Angels and Saints. That is witchcraft (working with spirits). Praying to deities for supernatural help is witchcraft so praying to god is witchcraft. What is a synonym for Jesus Christ practicing miracles (like to heal people)? Witchcraft (White magick). So Christians who say magick and especially witchcraft (witchcraft is defined by using your own energy to create magick like spells) are the devil & for Satan, why are you all actively practicing witchcraft? Why are you using witchcraft during every Church service while putting in your Holy Book any and all magick is outlawed? If you’re actively practicing witchcraft then why are you hypocritically attacking spiritualist for using witchcraft to help themselves and others ascend & become better people & souls? What are you doing to make this world a better place by attacking those who follow in god’s actual footsteps? Make it make sense, hypocrites. Magick is NOT good (white) or bad (black) BUT what is good or evil is the magick practitioner themselves & their intention(s). If you heal someone of cancer through the means of magick, does that make you evil? Fuck no. If you use magick to give someone cancer that does in fact make you evil.

As a tarot reader I get a lot of Christians who accuse me of being a Satanist (ironic af for multiple reasons— mainly practicing Christianity which was invented and is ran by literal Satanists) and tell me I need to return to god n he doesn’t speak to me but instead to them (he tells me in the moment he does not in fact speak to them (them being who is wrongfully accusing me)) & spaz out when I calmly tell them I’m doing what god wants and commands of me by being a tarot reader. So Christians who attack me— who are you actually defending and promoting? Satan himself & Satanism. Is the irony hitting you in the face yet? Why are you accusing me of practicing witchcraft (Christians DENY the existence of white magick & exclusively act like there is only black magick) by helping people by reading their cards who Angels and Gods help me interpret when you, as a Christian, actively practice witchcraft designed by Satanists and harm innocents especially spiritualist who follow the TRUE path of god? So to everyone who thinks spirituality is evil, I’m gonna laugh so fuckin’ hard at you on your Judgment Day.

[14dayswithyou]

Hello! Hey! Hi!

How would Ren/Redacted react if angel texted them this?

REN

[ 9:14 PM ] oh!!! [ 9:14 PM ] that's so cute ^.^ [ 9:45 PM ] WAIT, WWAIT WAIT [ 9:46 PM ] ARE ? YOY [ 9:46 PM ] ARE YOU ASKING ME TO COME OV ER?????

[REDACTED]

[ 11:11 PM ] lol [ 11:11 PM ] finally swapping out your haruko plushie for me [ 11:11 PM ] ?* [ 11:12 PM ] im omw

[valscigarette]

Too Much of You's Too Much to Swallow

Summary: Angel has a rough morning after work; it's more complicated than it looks. (Hazbin Hotel Omegaverse AU)

Warnings: Val/Angel and all it entails, referenced death, drug use, withdrawal

WC: 2.1k | AO3

-

“You smell like shit, you know,” Husk says, placing two glasses on the bar top.  

“What happened to hello?” Angel asks. At least Husk pours them both a generous serving, and doesn’t complain about the refill when it’s gone in a single swallow. “Good mornin’ to you too, Husk. Sleep well? Have any wet dreams?” Usually, the cheap liquor burns after the sweet, sedating smoke that surrounds Val as strongly as his sugary scent, but Angel is too exhausted for anything to register past the comfortable warmth in his belly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insulting me.” 

After a loaded beat, Husk tells him, “You have jizz on your sweater.”

Sure enough, when Angel looks down, his black lapel has a shiny, milky stain that gums together his chest fluff as well, though Husk probably couldn’t tell. He must not’ve done as good a job as he thought swallowing. After working all day and night, his coke stash dwindling by the hour, he hadn’t had the energy to shower before pulling on his clothes and stumbling toward the door like a newborn faun. Maybe if he had, Val wouldn’t have stopped him to refresh his claim.  

“Wonder how it got there,” Angel deadpans. “Listen, porn critic, I just pulled a double at the studio, and if you’re gonna be an asshole, I’ll take the bottle up to my room.” 

One of Husk’s ears flicks as his scent sharpens in acrid frustration. On a better day, Angel would sink his teeth into the reaction, and on a worse one, he’d already be on his way upstairs, but for now, he’s simply too tired to react. It doesn’t matter what Husk thinks of him, anyway. Everybody knows who he is—what he is—so Angel doesn’t see why Husk is mocking him for it again. 

“Angel-” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he lies. His second glass is gone in two sips, but Husk doesn’t pour him another. Instead, he looks at Angel with his flat, dark eyes, his mouth thinned to a disapproving line, and his wings bristling to blow his pheromones over the counter. Luxurious bourbon, oak, and molasses have become so familiar that a pavlovian comfort drapes around Angel despite the discomfort of their conversation. “Val’s in a mood, which means I’m havin’ a bad high.” That much is true. “So, if it’s not too much to ask, can I please finish my drink in peace?” 

Begrudgingly, Husk refills his glass. “Last one until you’ve had a shower and a nap. You actually reek,” he says.  

“Fuck you.” 

With a huff of effort, Angel pushes his exhausted body from the barstool and heads to his room with his drink. The glass will find its way back to the bar after the next time Niffty cleans, and he can’t face Husk any longer in his current state. Deep down, he knows the comments are meant as a fucked-up expression of concern, but he’s too tired for it to feel like anything beyond an insult. Obviously, he smells bad to Husk: he’s stained by Valentino.  

In the elevator, Angel fishes in his pockets for whatever drugs he has left. Val promised him a re-up on his way to the studio the other day, but never delivered, and Angel wasn’t stupid enough to ask after being left on the floor, dripping snot from his nose and cum from his lips. The contact high of his smoke has been enough but if Angel doesn’t get something serious soon, he’ll be in trouble. The shakes are already starting. He doesn’t have enough coke for a line, but the baggie is still powdery, so he pours a shot of his drink in to dissolve it. Swishing it around in his mouth before he swallows, he feels the moment it hits. No high. Just a few more minutes to find a real stash. 

As he stumbles into his room, he finishes his drink and slams it on the dresser hard enough for a crack to shoot up its side. Angel swears under his breath. Maybe Niffty won’t tell on him if he asks nicely. He can’t think about it now, because the top of his dresser is clear and so is the top drawer of his dresser, mindlessly ransacked by his lower set of hands. Sometimes he has pills or weed tucked between his panties but, as he thought, it ran out last week. The bottom drawer is even less likely to have drugs, but Angel still drops to his knees and prays for a baggie surviving in a pocket somewhere. 

Fruitless still, he turns to his nightstands, which only produce an empty pack of Val’s laced cigarettes, his suppressants, and a wrinkled, used tab of acid he chews on in case there’s any trace left. He turns his covers and upends his mattress, empties his first aid kit and unloads his makeup bag, combs his carpet and cleans his counters, all for naught. 

He plops down on his bed hopelessly, prompting Fat Nugget to crawl into his lap with an excited squeal. Angel remembers, with a tinge of shame, to check to make sure Nugs’ food and water aren’t empty. Charlie keeps an eye on him while Angel’s at the studio, but he still should’ve made sure first thing. 

“Do you know if Daddy has any drugs hidin’ in here?” he asks. 

Nugs snuffles one of Angel’s hands. 

“No, guess not.”  

He doesn’t have the cash on hand to buy anything, either. Val has been stingier than usual, ever since the battle with the exorcists didn’t destroy the hotel, leaving Angel scraping by when he’s not at the Vee tower- a prison he’s happy to escape until his next call time. 

If Cherri has a stash at the hotel she’ll share, but Angel won’t leave his room until he’s presentable again, which he can’t manage without a pick-me-up. He decides to call her, putting his phone on speaker to free up his hands. 

“Angie, you better be dying,” she groans. 

“I might die if I don’t get high soon,” Angel replies, only half-joking. “I know it’s early, but I just got home. It was a really long shoot, and Val didn’t give me my shit, and I promise I’ll make it up to ya the second I can! I swear! I just really need somethin’ like, now, so, could I mooch? I only need enough to get through the day.” 

Cherri sighs, long-suffering, before saying, “Yeah, what do you want?” 

“I ain’t picky,” he answers, blinking back tears of relief. “Whatever you can spare. I gotta clean up from work but I can’t unless-” his voice breaks.  

He can’t finish the sentence aloud, but he doesn’t have to for Cherri to promise a hand-delivery and promptly hang up. Running a bath feels less daunting with the promise of drugs on the way to make the studio’s remnants less pungent. His ensuite has a full-sized tub, big enough for him to sprawl out in, and he pours a generous helping of bubble bath alongside the faucet as it fills. The gentle, floral scent will cut through the muck and leave him feeling clean again. As clean as Angel gets, anyway. 

The stain Husk pointed out sticks to his fur when he peels off his sweater, but doesn’t pull any out, which he counts as a win. In the process of stripping his socks, Angel finds a few more splotches he’ll need Niffty’s help to remove, and determines the panties are too torn to be worth mending. Val likes destroying Angel’s clothes almost as much as he likes buying him new ones, like a sex doll and a barbie rolled into one.  

He leaves them in a puddle on the floor to turn off the tap. Steam, pure water vapor that barely catches the light from the vanity over the sink, swirls above the surface in a gentle invitation he can’t refuse. Angel steps into the tub carefully enough not to slip and sinks down until only his head peaks above the surface.  

At that moment, Cherri bursts into his room without knocking. “Hello?” 

“Bathroom, toots,” he calls back. 

“What kinda high do you want?” She picks her way through the wreckage to his bathroom, toting a plastic bag she probably plucked from the floor. “Are we partying after this? Or are you passing the fuck out?” 

“I think I need to sleep for the next fifty years,” Angel admits. “Do you have ketamine?” 

Cherri plops down on the toilet seat. “Probably.” Rustling through the bag, she glances up at Angel long enough to catch the twitching of his eye. “You’re a mess. Valentino really left you like this?” 

A barked laugh bubbles from his lips. “Oh, ‘cause he’s so compassionate?” 

“No.” Her search produces a hand-rolled joint. “This has ketamine, fentanyl, and weed in it?” When Angel nods, she fishes out a lighter, before continuing. “Val’s a piece of shit, but he’s predictable. I thought he liked you better all...” 

“Stoned out of my mind?” he fills in. Cherri takes the first drag and holds it in her lungs while Angel has a hit. They exhale at the same time, imperfect grey clouds drifting toward the air vent together. “Yeah, normally. He’s been weird the past couple weeks.” A flutter of ash falls into his bathwater. “Maybe he fought with Vox again. He always gets extra needy when they’re on the outs.” After a couple more hits, Angel’s body feels far away enough for him to grab the soap. “Pass me a washcloth?” 

She hands him one from the stack on the counter, and he soaks it in s pool of soap to create a foamy lather. Out of habit, he winks at Cherri before starting to wash, prompting a chortle that expels smoke between her teeth. 

“You don’t think he suspects anything?” 

Angel takes his next hit while scrubbing his chest fluff. It never feels soft anymore, no matter how often he conditions or oils it, from all the different cumshots he’s filmed in his decades-long career. “I’m only what, two or three days overdue?” He has to be gentle with his legs. His fur hides bruises and scrapes well, but they’re still tender and raw beneath. “And Val’s an idiot. He probably doesn’t keep track of that.” 

Eventually, Val will have to realize Angel’s heat hasn’t come. They’re the most profitable days of the year, and the source of Angel’s most critically acclaimed pornos that get framed posters in the halls of Vee tower. If it was just Val, devoting three days to fucking Angel and taking care of him like a real mate, he wouldn’t mind; the johns and the cameras are just too much, and after fighting the exorcists and Adam, secretly taking suppressants doesn’t feel as terrifying as it used to.  

“What’s your plan when that backfires?” Cherri asks. She snubs their joint in Angel’s ashtray, then lets her head fall back onto the toilet tank. “I support you, you know that, but this is definitely blowing up in your face.” 

“Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence.” 

He doesn’t have another plan. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Val will drug him into oblivion so he doesn’t have to feel or remember what will surely be the worst night of his death and a series of record-breaking pornos. That’s usually how it goes, because Val says he’s sexier when he isn’t talking back, but he can feel Val’s ice-cold temper thinning beneath his feet every time he steps into the studio and he’s not sure an escape is guaranteed when he inevitably falls through.  

“I just want one thing,” he whispers, “one fucking piece of me that he can’t have.” 

She hums, sympathetic and soft. “I know, Angie, but you’re picking a massive fight here. I’m the one who always scrapes you off the pavement after you piss him off, remember?” Her scent sharpens with citrus concern, helping her words remind him of all the mornings coming to on her couch. Coming back hurts worse than dying, but Val has never even threatened him with angelic steel, so Angel permits himself to revel in the relief the pain of revival brings.  “With everything going on, I’m just worried about you.” 

“Well, I can handle myself,” he reminds, as if he didn’t call her begging for drugs not too long ago, and won’t ask for her help getting out of the tub so he doesn’t fall. The soap and dirt in the water make it slippery, even when he isn’t loose-limbed and battered, and if she helps him, he doesn’t have to look at the color of the water.  

“Promise you’ll be careful?” 

Angel shuts his eyes and relaxes into the water. “You know me, baby.” 

[triste-guillotine]

EMBRACE OF THORNS “Revelation of all sins” Live album 2015-2017 (With history of 2 decades, Greek Black/Death Metal juggernaut Embrace Of Thorns strike with their first Live album ; consisting of a Live CD from their 2015 Athens show and a DVD recorded during their appearance at Armageddon Descends Festival in Vilnius !)

“Endless litany of grotesque figures Marching onwards to their burial Place where elder corpses Lie dormant Sweet melodies and chants are cast Praising saviour A lucid grotesquerie For nothing is left to be saved Putrid once female entities Are caressing a grey mummified body The leader than supposedly Could lead them to fertility, Prosperity and glory...”

https://embracethorns.bandcamp.com/album/revelation-of-all-sins