#shaped the archangels into who they became

[muzzleroars]

there's still a quiet echo, if you listen

[nikethestatue]

So,.. I’ve read two different books that are elriel coded: Nalini Singh’s Archangel’s Storm and Black Dagger Brotherhood- Lover Awakened. Books that if I’m not mistaken are some of SJM’s favorites… Have you read it? I didn’t read the whole series, just these two. It’s interesting that the both MMC are so similar to Azriel- Talented singers, broody shadow daddy, PTSD, spymaster and whatnots. Their love interests are princess or aristocrat. There’s one FMC love interest in Archangel’s Storm seems to be connected with animals and can create a “glowing ball of light.”

If SJM keeps the inspiration from Archangel’s Storm then it makes me wonder about the “fanged beast” on Elain’s part. Not sure if this is meant literally or figuratively but I wondered if there’s possibility that Elain will be shape-shifter fae like TOG? Will she have fangs like them? Perhaps she could procure a ball of light like Yrene or just simply because of the starborn ability? (Out btw, I was wondering if there’s a possibility that Yrene’s powers are connected to Starborn? She defeated a Valg king.)

Do you think Elain’s book will be more of beast themed? Something that is connected to Dust Court?

Anyway, what do you know of the first faes on Prythian? Are Starborn faes the first group of fae on Prythian and is the Dusk Court the first court? Is it possible that Starborn faes have migrated from Erilea? It sounds like TOG faes are the first generation fae and they sort of evolved in Prythian and Lunathion? SJM made Lunathion connected to Prythian and Erilea. So, I’m wondering how Erilea is connected to Prythian? I know Aelin saw Rhys and Pregnant Feyre in KOA, but that’s it.

Ugh, i really dont want to reread all three series before Elain’s book come out… my brain hurts.

sorry for so many questions.. 🫣

I'll address this first:

Anyway, what do you know of the first faes on Prythian? We just know that they existed. The magic of the land was more primal and wild and they all possessed it to a degree. Prythian is one of the Fae worlds with strong natural magic.

Are Starborn faes the first group of fae on Prythian and is the Dusk Court the first court? Starborn powers come from Queen Theia, specifically--it seems like no one else but her had the powers. The power later was passed on to her daughters and so. Other Fae of Prythian didn't have starborn powers, but still had other powers.

Dusk is not technically the first Court. Theia was in servitude to an Asteri, and lived on an island, which later became what we now know as Dusk or the Prison. Theia took over the island, once she BOUND the Asteri in the glass coffin. It was well-defensible and she ruled from there. It was also the home of the pegasus.

Is it possible that Starborn faes have migrated from Erilea? Perhaps, but it's not clear. Once Theia went to Midgard, she met other Fae, who were all shifters and whose natures were very much related to animals. Those Fae are presumably the Erilea fae. It was not implied that they were related directly to the Prythian Fae.

It sounds like TOG faes are the first generation fae and they sort of evolved in Prythian and Lunathion? It's not clear that they were 'first gen' Fae. It seemed like they were different Fae, with different powers and different natures. Erilea Fae are shifters and their powers are different from the Prythian fae. Prythian's magic comes from the land. That's why the Asteri loved it so much--they 'drank' the magic of the land.

SJM made Lunathion connected to Prythian and Erilea. So, I’m wondering how Erilea is connected to Prythian? I know Aelin saw Rhys and Pregnant Feyre in KOA, but that’s it.

I imagine that the Mother who created/brought the Cauldron and from which all Life sprung in Prythian is connected to the Erilea gods. I think there was a group of beings--later called gods--who were immensely more powerful than the Asteri. They bounced about the worlds and seeded them. I think they are the connection between all the worlds. I also think that once they were corporeal and bred, so like Aelin, for example, probably comes from that line. So is Theia, and many thousands of years down the line, Rhys, possibly Mor, and maybe even Azriel.

I think that the connector is always winnowing. I think it's a commonality that no one talks about, but this travel between realms, whether local or through the worlds is something that connects the most powerful Fae. Who can winnow in Prythian? The High Lords, Feyre, high lords' descendants, and...Azriel.

Who fell through the worlds? Bryce and Aelin.

For the first part of the question: I've not read either series, but others have and @silverdreamscapes did a very deep dive into the similarities between Bella/Zsadist and Azriel/Elain. You can find it on her blog.

There's always been speculation whether Elain could shape shift or if she can rule over 'fanged beasts'. Or both. We'll have to see.

[spicylove4ever]

GBA's Magic of the Heart Random Headcanons.

Mazzul just ADORED all her kids. Especially the youngest ones. She was a kids person. Would have gotten along with Zed since he's a total puppy and would have considerated him "her little Schollar".

Makkaro's parents actually were kind of sappy with each other and Makkaro was a little weirded out by that as a kid but totally gets it as an adult.

There are many nerds on the Mistwood family. Maybe because they preffer to learn things and/or have a more quiet life after what happened to their mother.

As the Everest, the Crete Mountain has a "Death Zone" in which most of the ones who tried to climb found their demise, but most are completely covered in snow..... so Zed passed nearby his mother's half-rotten, frozen corpse without realising (or he probably was too focused in not dying himself).

Zed is the one who kept the Archangel-plushie. He basically adopted it and it's Zed's comfort toy after Raze dissapeared.

Makkaro has stopped ordering sparkling wine or cider on restaurants because he can't stand anymore the sound of the cork pomping out. He can take it if he's the one opening it and has in his eyesight the source of the sound, though, but any strong pomping sound he isn't aware of where it comes from makes him jump.

Frank and Gienne don't reach the level of besties, but they bonded quite much on a axe-throwing exercise with a picture of Kayble as the target.

Mirrin looks the part of respectable yarl when he has to, but with his staff and crew he's a closer guy and a total prankster.

Gienne's first attempt on cooking started with a "can't be too different from brewing a potion" and ended on a decent soup, but it was supposed to be a stew LOL.

Frank found hilarious how Makkaro is the bossy one in a relationship with a royal. After a while, that became old news since it also affected him as well and he settled into just teasing on how sappy or active they are.

The first and only time Makkaro asked the Franks to brew coffee, they used half actual coffee and half gravedirt something else none of the couple wanted to know about and refused to drink that concoction with skull shaped smoke.

A slightly sadistic small part of Raze that is expressed through the Maggreos allucination would love to watch Gienne's reaction to the "let's make a baby" thing.

Zed has a plushie of the mascot of his favourite wing-ball team. He also has a t-shirt, glasses, and figurines.

The Undead actually followed Makkaro's orders about not killing the Senator, but he died accidentally tripping and breaking his nose by landing on his face while running for his life.

Mirrin doesn't like much the Piscis Royal family because he thinks they are snobby, self-centered and "maybe not the best option for the Royal Family of Manas", but found Gienne a kind of promising black sheep of the family, but then saw her on Cimitaria and went back to not like her.

Zed is a walking encyclopedia and sometimes he spends long minutes blurting data. Mirrin finds it annoying, Raze thinks it's pretty useful, Gienne could find it useful too, and Makkaro could go from finding him an inconvenience to a mild threat, which would flatter Zed's self-worth. (Zed: you think I'm a threat? Makkaro: obviously I don't like the idea of some kid annalysing and exposing every potential weakness I might- Zed: can I hug you? Makkaro: ..... what?).

One of the firsts Maggreos' victims is a coffee shop employee who always got his name and order wrong. That is of course if there was that kind of coffee shops back then.

Makkaro bought Gienne's new music-box while giving the Undead a full earful on how the Senator was dead before he had the chance to kill him in person. I imagine a pissed off beyond imagination Makkaro venting his frustration to an army of skeletons and stops every few minutes to listen to the melodies or to ask the terrified owner with more frustrated yelling how much it costs.

Both Makkaro and Gienne changed their hair-styles from when they lived in Mana City, and Gienne had him pick her style (Gienne: which one of these hair fringes look better? Makkaro: you look perfect in every way, my love. Gienne: that is very sweet, but seriously, I'm asking because you know more about undercover looks; I have to change my hair to not be recognized. Makkaro: oh, right, let me see).

Part of Makkaro's problem with what's on his veins is having more coffeeine than blood.

[truearchangel]

𝐉𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐑𝐘

   Michael is not a materialistic person, he doesn’t put much stock in fancy items or jewelry. Material possessions, unless they hold sentimental value, mean nothing to him. So what he does wear, aside from his clothing, is very plain in nature. 

   He doesn’t have any piercings or tattoos, the only physical scar he has is on his wings from the fight with Lucifer. However, Michael does wear two pieces of jewelry he’s had since the symbol became part of what represents God himself. He has a cross with angel wings on it that he wears as a necklace, usually tucked beneath his clothes where it won’t get damaged or yanked off. The second is a bracelet with a plain silver colored cross on it. The bracelet is also what he hides his sword inside when it isn’t being carried with him. This bracelet is usually noticeable since it simply wraps around his wrist and dangles when his sword isn’t in his hand. 

   Both of these items never come off. They’re an integral part to his daily life, something that represents his belief and is a reminder of his place inside the Heavenly Order. His determination to serve as God’s Right Hand. When he’s having a particularly bad day he has a habit of gripping at the necklace and repeating prayers inside his head. An attempt at strengthening his belief, at reminding himself of who he is. 

   Both of these items, even the chain, are made of angelic steel (the bracelet is literally his sword) and are very difficult to break. If he used the necklace to stab someone it would indeed hurt them but the likelihood of him doing that is very slim. Although it’s easily replaceable he has had it for about as long as he can conceivable remember and it is important to him. He wouldn’t want to risk breaking them when he has plenty of other choices for defending himself. 

   The only other type of jewelry he wears is small silver wrist cuffs on his suit. They’re not very flashy, just the shape of angel wings that he puts on when he gets dressed. Although he might not believe in wearing flashy and overdone things, he does believe in looking his best when he goes anywhere or even in private. Very rarely does he get caught wearing something that’s considered dressing down or appearing overly lazy. (Sweatpants or sweatshirts for example). His role in Heaven is one that he takes incredibly seriously and he believes in setting an example. He’s the Leader of the Archangels after all, if he doesn’t show his siblings what that means they’ll get away with too much. 

   Order and regulation are vital to its continued existence.

[averyghe]

Oceans of ancient Mars

When the Yulakai gardeners came to Mars, they started to create life from the sand rich with iron, turning the wet clay into premordial ooze which became the first mollusks, and sponges – which at the time were actually quite hard to differentiate. Later through the guidance guidance of Yulakai, who shaped those creatures, weaving the waves of their evolution through the magic of change – first crustaceans – like for example gigantic Reef Archangels, which swam in the worm coastal sees luring the pray with their wing-like fins.

Their prey being usually a primitive slimefish – like Clakers - small fearful creatures, usually hiding among the corals, just to become prey of the false Yuoom – giant sponge pretending to become a coral, or to stick onto a jaw of a glutimouth.

But the slimefish were not the only harmless things in these cruel waters. You can notice little Tuts lurking in the shadow of the aneworm colonies, accompanied by the sea cyclops, and the brown eaters, who is feeding on the minerals, and the small microscopic mollusks from the sand under them. You can also observe a coral walker – curious little thing with two long, leg-like structures holding a round body observing the swimmer sponges from atop of the pale tongue corals.

Swimer sponges adapted to grow many primitive eyes just for the sake of noticing the sun light, and float to the surface to feed on a microorganisms, that start to Procreate in a wormed water. Another kind of sponge, and probably the most interesting creature at the period — is moving on the bottom of the sea. It’s a Monk sponge – the creature more resembling a strange four eyed humanoid than a mollusk. This strange critters, were the first on the iron planet to whisper the names of its inhabitants. The first to unconsciously adapt for using a magic. With a wave-like stirs, they move hier hands, staring at the giants. Waiting for the eons to come…

[demonicangelics-world]

Redamancy - Zestial x Angel!OC

Chapter Nine: The Long Night

Synopsis: In the shadowy realms of Hell and the celestial heights of Heaven, two souls grapple with the ache of unrequited love. Zestial, the formidable demon overlord, commands respect and fear. His past has forged a reputation that isolates him. Resigned to a life of power and isolation, he yearned for companionship and understanding, knowing that his intimidating demeanor made such connections seemingly impossible. Gabriela, once a radiant angel, admired the archangel Michael from afar, her heart swelling with unspoken affection for his divine strength and kindness. Casted into Hell on a mission, she now struggles to survive in a world where danger lurks at every corner, her angelic essence buried beneath a demonic exterior. Amidst the chaos of Hell and the secrets of Heaven, a profound and forbidden love ignites between them, challenging the very core of their beliefs and values.

Chapter Nine: The Long Night Chapter Ten: The Infernal Quacker

Word Count: 6,198

*********************************************************

I stumbled out of the dense, shadowy forest, my heart pounding and my breath coming in ragged gasps. 

The canopy of trees had cast a near-impenetrable darkness, making my flight through the underbrush an exercise in pure, desperate instinct. Now, as I broke free from the last of the gnarled branches, I found myself on the outskirts of Pentagram City, the infamous urban sprawl of Hell.

I collapsed against a nearby tree, my legs and wings trembling with exhaustion. I could barely remember the last time I'd done more than a few steps and flaps inside the mansion. Every muscle screamed in protest as I forced myself upright, the relentless buzz of the city drawing me forward despite my physical exhaustion.

Looking down, I noticed my cloak had become a bit tattered from the thorns and branches. The once-pristine fabric was now covered in dirt and grime. Brushing off the debris as best I could, I straightened up and looked out to the city.

The city lay before me like a fever dream brought to life. 

Neon lights flickered and blazed in every conceivable color, casting an eerie glow over the streets. Skyscrapers loomed overhead, their twisted, Gothic architecture clawing at the smoky sky. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sulfur, spice, and something sweetly sickening. I couldn’t tell where I was—every direction seemed equally disorienting, a chaotic mosaic of Hell’s urban decay.

The discord hit me like a physical force. 

Engines roared, sirens wailed, and the ever-present murmur of a thousand conversations melded into a chaotic symphony. My head swiveled from side to side, trying to take it all in. Demons of all shapes and sizes walked the streets—hulking brutes with horns and claws, lithe figures with glowing eyes and serpentine tails, and countless others who defied description. Sinners, marked by their condemnation and haunted expressions, navigated the pandemonium with varying degrees of familiarity and dread.

Slowly, I ventured deeper into the city, the sensory overload only intensified. Billboards flashed advertisements for everything from infernal cuisine to dubious entertainments. The ground beneath my flats seemed alive, pulsating with the vibrations of the city’s heartbeat.

Despite the late hour, Pentagram City was anything but asleep. 

The streets were a disarray of noise and light. Neon signs blazed in every direction, casting eerie, colorful glows over the bustling crowds. Vendors shouted their wares from every corner, hawking everything from enchanted trinkets to street food. The smell of questionable charred meat and spices mingled with the acrid scent of smoke, creating an aroma that was both tantalizing and overwhelming.

Suddenly, it all became too much. 

The noise, the lights, the smell, the press of bodies around me—it swirled together in a dizzying, nauseating blur. I stumbled to the side of the street, clutching my stomach as a wave of vertigo washed over me. I doubled over and retched, the contents of my stomach spilling onto the cracked pavement. The acrid taste of bile burned my throat, and I gasped for breath, trying to regain my composure.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I straightened up, feeling slightly steadier. The overwhelming sensory assault had subsided to a more bearable level, though my head still throbbed. I took a deep breath and began to walk, determined to explore the city despite feeling overwhelmed.

I wandered into what seemed like markets and bazaars, my eyes wide with astonishment. Stalls lined the streets, packed with all sorts of goods and curiosities. Exotic fruits glistened under the harsh lights, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the city’s dark undertones. Strange artifacts and mysterious potions beckoned from every corner, each promising wonders or curses.

As I continued to explore, something finally registered in my mind that made me stop in my tracks. 

Demons and sinners were wearing clothes that looked eerily familiar—my clothes. There they were, garments I had designed, now adorning the bodies of Hell’s citizens. The sight filled me with a strange mix of pride and disbelief. 

Seeing my creations in person, walking the streets of Hell, was an entirely different experience compared to viewing them on my phone or television. Each garment, meticulously crafted and imbued with my vision, took on a life of its own as it draped over the demonic forms that strutted by. The fabrics shimmered under the infernal glow, and the intricate details I had labored over were now tactile, tangible in a way pixels on a screen could never convey.

It was surreal yet gratifying, a testament to my skill echoing through the bustling streets of Hell. 

I approached a clothing store, its window display showcasing outfits that I had meticulously designed. The mannequins posed in stylish ensembles, their glass eyes reflecting the chaos outside. My heart pounded as I recognized each piece, recalling the countless hours I had spent bringing those designs to life.

Further down the street, I came across a magazine stand. To my astonishment, the covers of several fashion magazines featured models dressed in my creations. The headlines praised the latest trends, oblivious to the fact that the designer was now wandering the streets, lost and overwhelmed.

Seeing my work so prominently displayed, I felt a surge of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was undeniable pride in seeing my designs so widely appreciated. On the other, a deep sense of betrayal—my father keeping me away from all of this. 

I continued to weave through the crowds, the reality of my situation sinking in. My creations had made their mark on Pentagram City, even if I hadn’t been entirely aware of it. Now, as I walked among the bustling markets and neon-lit streets, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. If my designs could thrive in this chaotic inferno, perhaps I could too.

As I wandered deeper into the streets, the pulsating rhythm of the markets gradually gave way to a different kind of allure. A colorful banner caught my eye, flapping in the hellish breeze. Its bold letters proclaimed: Buckzo’s Family Circus II. Intrigued, I followed the excited chatter of demons and sinners alike, drawn towards a large, brightly adorned tent that seemed to shimmer under the neon lights.

The entrance was guarded by a small, drunk imp whose breath reeked of fermented brimstone. His eyes gleamed with greed as he sloppily counted the coins handed to him by each attendee.

"Step right up, lovely lady!" the imp slurred, his voice dripping with false charm as he extended a grubby hand. "$20 to the greatest show in Hell!"

I handed over the required fee, resisting the urge to wrinkle my nose at his intoxicated demeanor. "Here you go," I replied evenly, stepping past him into the shadowy interior of the tent.

Inside, the air was thick with anticipation and the scent of burnt sugar. Rows of mismatched seats encircled a center ring where demons and sinners alike gathered in eager clusters. The atmosphere crackled with an electric energy as murmurs of excitement filled the air.

Suddenly, a spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating a figure that bounded into the ring with theatrical flair. It was the ringmaster—a charismatic imp with a top hat perched jauntily atop his horned head. His voice boomed through the tent, commanding attention and applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, fiends and sinners! Welcome to Buckzo's Family Circus II!" The imp's voice carried a blend of mischief and showmanship that captivated the audience. "Tonight, we present to you a spectacle unlike any other, made possible by the grace of Lucifer himself, who has opened the pride ring for our traveling troupe."

A wave of applause and whistles erupted from the audience, mingled with shouts of approval and anticipation. The imp ringmaster bowed theatrically before continuing, "Brought to you by the circus that raised the famous clown imp, Fizzarolli, prepare yourselves for an evening of wonder, laughter, and a touch of devilish charm!"

The tent erupted into cheers as performers of all shapes and sizes began to flood the ring. Acrobats twisted and somersaulted through the air with impossible grace, while jugglers deftly manipulated flaming torches and gleaming knives. A troupe of spectral dancers floated ethereally across the stage, their movements synchronized in a hauntingly beautiful display.

Amidst the spectacle, a comedic duo of imps took center stage, trading witty banter and performing slapstick routines that had the audience roaring with laughter. Their antics were infectious, drawing me into a world where the boundaries between Hell's horrors and its delights blurred with each passing moment.

To the edges of the ring where stalls adorned with colorful banners, an imp beckoned patrons with promises of delectable treats and whimsical merchandise.

"Step right up, folks!" cried a grinning imp with crimson horns, weaving through the benches with a tray piled high with an assortment of treats. "Get your Fizzarolli's Famous Fiery Fritters here! Guaranteed to make your taste buds dance with devilish delight!"

The imp navigated the rows of spectators, offering sizzling pans of golden fritters to eager attendees. With each sale, he regaled customers with tales of Fizzarolli, his voice rising above the excited chatter of the crowd.

Not far away, another imp darted between seats, showcasing an array of vibrant masks and jesters' hats. Each item was adorned with bells that jingled merrily in the air, enticing patrons to embrace their inner clown.

"Step into the shoes of a jester, my friends!" he proclaimed enthusiastically, tossing a multi-colored hat into the air with a flourish. "Feel the whimsy of Fizzarolli's spirit! Each mask and hat carries the magic of laughter and mischief—it's a must-have for any true admirer of the circus!"

Around the perimeter of the tent, more imps ventured through the benches, their arms laden with memorabilia celebrating Fizzarolli's legacy.

Amidst the bustling activity of the circus, an imp with a mischievous gleam in his eye approached me, clutching a plush toy in the likeness of Fizzarolli. I quickly pull the hood down my face. His grin widened as he held out the plush.

"Step right up, miss! Take home a piece of Fizzarolli!," the imp chimed, his voice bright with enthusiasm. "This plushie is a must-have for any die hard fans of Fizzaorolli!”

I hesitated, feeling a pang of nostalgia wash over me. The sight of the plushie had triggered a flood of emotions, taking me back to a time when my father had surprised me with a Fizzarolli plushie on one of my early childhood birthdays. 

As a child, I had been an avid fan of Fizzarolli's TV show, proudly sponsored by Mammon. It was one of the few things that brought genuine joy into my life, a colorful escape from the otherwise drab existence within my father’s mansion. I would watch the show religiously, often in the company of my father and his then-girlfriend, Jessica, a demon cat. Those were some of the rare moments when my father seemed almost humane, laughing along with the antics of the clown imp on the screen.

One particular memory stood out. It was my birthday, and for once, my father was home. Jessica, with her usual beauty but sporting an unexplained black eye, had baked and decorated a cake to celebrate. The scent of the freshly baked cake had filled the mansion, a rare and comforting aroma that contrasted sharply with the usual sterile air.

As I sat at the table, eyes closed, making a wish, I could feel the tension in the room despite the cheerful facade. Jessica's forced smile and the way she flinched at every sudden movement spoke volumes. Yet, in that moment, as I blew out the candles, all I could think about was the warmth of the flames and the sweetness of the cake.

To my surprise, my father presented me with a gift. His demeanor was unusually gentle, a stark contrast to his usual dominating presence. When I tore open the wrapping paper, my eyes widened in disbelief. It was a Fizzarolli plushie, complete with the same oversized smile and whimsical outfit as the imp on TV.

“Happy birthday, mija,” my father had said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

I had clutched the plushie to my chest, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness and disbelief. 

For a brief period, that plushie became my most cherished possession. I held it close during the lonely nights when I first began to understand the true nature of my father—the manipulations, the schemes, the darkness hidden behind his charming facade. 

It represented a time when my father had seemed like a real parent, a time before the facade had fully cracked and revealed the true monster beneath.

As I grew older, the reality of my father’s world became impossible to ignore. The control, the violence, the way he abused those around him—like Jessica—became painfully clear. 

Yet, even as I came to understand the true nature of the man who had given me that plushie, I held onto it. It was a symbol of happier times, a reminder that even in the darkest corners of Hell, there could be moments of light. 

Shaking myself from the reverie, I forced a small, polite smile at the imp. "Thank you, but not today," I murmured softly, declining the offer. The imp's grin faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, his sales pitch resuming with renewed vigor as he moved on to the next potential customer.

With a sigh tinged with nostalgia, I resumed viewing the performance.  I found myself enthralled, caught up in the whirlwind of excitement and wonder that the circus offered. It was a brief respite from the tumultuous reality of Hell.

As the evening wore on and the performances reached their end, I couldn’t help but smile. The circus had cast its spell, weaving a tapestry of laughter and awe that transcended the infernal chaos outside. Amidst the cheers and applause, I settled deeper into my seat, grateful for this unexpected escape into a world where even demons could find solace in the magic of a captivating show.

As the crowd began to disperse, the spell gradually faded, and I remembered the harsh reality of my earlier flight from the forest. My stomach growled, reminding me that I had thrown up. Feeling the pangs of hunger and thirst, I joined the throng of demons and sinners exiting the circus tent.

As I wandered through the bustling avenues, the tantalizing aroma of food wafted through the air, drawing me forward. I weaved through the crowd, my senses heightened by the promise of a meal.

Eventually, I spotted a late-night diner that seemed to beckon with its warm, inviting glow. The sign above the door flickered with an eerie, yet oddly charming, retro style. It was reminiscent of a 1960s diner, but with a hellish twist—spiked booths, red neon lights, and waitstaff with devilish grins.

The diner was relatively full, a mixture of voices mingling with the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation. Demons and sinners alike occupied the booths and tables. I scanned the room and found an open stool at the counter. Taking a seat, I glanced around, taking in the ambiance.

A waitress approached me, her demonic features softened by a warm smile. "What can I get for you, sweety?" she asked as she handed me a menu.

I quickly scanned the menu and placed my first order of freedom—a cheeseburger with fries and a soda. As I waited, I observed the eclectic mix of patrons. Some were engaged in animated conversations, while others sat alone, lost in thought. The atmosphere was strangely comforting, a pocket of normalcy within the chaos of the city. 

When my food finally arrived, I eagerly dug in, savoring the first bite of the juicy burger. The flavors were intense, a perfect blend of spice and savoriness. I sipped my soda, the fizzy drink washing down the rich food and quenching my thirst.

As I ate, a figure slid onto the stool next to me. I glanced up and saw a tall and slim demon with dark, bluish-gray skin, and dark green slicked-back short hair with lighter-colored roots. He had thick black brows, eyes with red sclera, neon-green irises, slit pupils, and upper eyelids colored in a darker shade of his skin. His wide mouth was full of sharp, neon-green colored teeth, giving him an unsettling, yet strangely captivating, appearance.

"Hey there," he said, his voice smooth and charming. "I noticed you were alone. Mind if I join you?"

I felt a twinge of nervousness and pulled my hood down lower to hide my face. "Uh, sure," I replied cautiously.

"Don't worry," he said, sensing my unease. "I mean no harm. I just finished a long day of studying and haven't had a chance to socialize. Thought I'd change that."

His words piqued my interest, and I glanced up at him. "Studying? What are you studying?"

"Political science," he replied with a hint of pride. "It's fascinating, really. The dynamics of power, governance, the interplay of different factions—Hell is quite literally the perfect place to study such things."

Despite my initial apprehension, I found myself intrigued by his study. "That does sound interesting," I admitted. "What drew you to political science?"

He leaned back slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Well, you could say it was a family decision. They thought it would be the best path for me, given our...background."

"Family decision?" I raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking. "So, your family is really into politics?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, his sharp teeth glinting under the diner's lights. "They've been involved in the political scene for ages. Tradition and all that. It's almost expected of us to understand the intricacies of power and governance."

"Must be a lot of pressure," I said, sipping my drink. "Trying to live up to those expectations."

He nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. "Definitely. But it's not all bad. I've learned a lot about how things work—or don't work. And it gives me a unique perspective on how to, well, navigate this chaotic world."

I tilted my head, intrigued. "So, your family must be pretty influential then?"

"You could say they're somewhat well-known," he replied with a smirk. "We hail from the Envy Ring."

My eyes widened slightly. "The Envy Ring? You’re not from here?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, this ring is a bit too... chaotic for my taste. The Envy Ring is a different kind of chaos—more structured, more about subtle maneuvers and less about outright anarchy."

"Wow," I said, still processing. "So, what brings you here to Pentagram City?"

"Study and experience," he replied. "You can't really understand Hell's political landscape without seeing all its facets. And Pentagram City, for all its madness, is a crucial part of that. Plus," he added with a wry smile, "it's a good place to get away from the constant scrutiny of my family."

I nodded, feeling a connection. "I can relate to that. The constant scrutiny, I mean."

His eyes lit up with curiosity. "Really? What kind of scrutiny are we talking about?"

I hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "Let's just say my family likes to keep a close eye on me. It's... stifling."

He leaned in, clearly interested. "Sounds like we have more in common than I thought. What's your family like?"

I pulled my hood down a bit lower, evading his gaze. "Complicated. Always expecting me to stay in line."

He gave a knowing nod. "I get it. My family’s the same way. They’re always watching. It's like living under a microscope."

I looked at him, surprised by his candor. "Really? I thought I was the only one."

He glanced at my tattered cloak, a small smile playing on his lips. "I can tell you don't get out much. That cloak looks like it's seen better days."

I felt a pang of nervousness and pulled the hood down lower. "It's... comfortable."

"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I know what it's like to hide from prying eyes. You shouldn't have to."

His words were sincere, and I felt a bit more comfortable. Slowly, I pulled my hood up, revealing more of my face.

He smiled warmly. "You are very beautiful. You shouldn’t hide behind such an ugly piece of garment."

I laughed, feeling a bit more at ease, and removed some of my cloak. His eyes widened slightly as he took in my outfit.

"That design looks familiar," he remarked, studying the intricate details. "Is it from Velvette's latest fashion line?"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You’re into fashion?"

He nodded. "Yes, I find it fascinating. The creativity, the craftsmanship. It's a form of art and I always get invited to the latest fashion shows too."

I began to feel a connection to him, surprised by our shared interests. "What's your name?"

"Seviathan," he replied with a hint of pride. "And you?"

"Valeria," I said, offering a small smile.

"Nice to meet you, Valeria," Seviathan said, his tone warm and genuine. "So, tell me more about your designs. Are you a fashion designer?"

I felt a flicker of excitement at the opportunity to talk about my passion. "Yes, I am. I’ve been designing for a while now, though I didn’t realize my work was so well-known."

He nodded appreciatively. "Your designs have made quite an impression. It’s not every day you see such intricate and unique pieces."

I smiled, feeling a sense of pride. "Thank you. It means a lot to hear that."

Seviathan leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, Valeria, it's refreshing to meet someone who understands the pressures of family and has their own passions. It's not easy, but it’s worth it."

I nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of camaraderie. "Absolutely. It's what keeps me going.”

He grinned, his neon-green teeth flashing. "Well, if you ever need a break from the chaos, feel free to look me up. Maybe we can explore more of Pentagram City together."

I felt a warmth spread through me at his offer. "I’d like that, Seviathan. I really would."

Then, Seviathan leaned in a bit closer, his eyes curious yet gentle in the dim light of the diner. "So, Valeria," he began, his voice softer than before, "are you seeing anyone?"

His question caught me off guard, and I blinked, momentarily surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh, um, no," I replied, trying to regain my composure. "I'm not."

He chuckled softly, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Well, that's surprising," he mused. "You seem like someone who would have plenty of suitors."

I felt a flush of warmth at his compliment, though I couldn't help but feel a bit bewildered by the turn our conversation had taken. "Thank you," I replied, a hint of confusion in my voice. "What about you? Are you... dating someone?"

Seviathan's expression softened, and for a moment, a shadow crossed his face. "No," he admitted quietly. "We were... supposed to be married, actually."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. I waited quietly, sensing there was more to his story.

"Our families arranged for us to be married, but things didn't work out," he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "Her mother disappeared, and... her father fell into a deep depression. She lost herself, and in turn, it strained our relationship." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "On top of that, she became obsessed with redeeming sinners, trying to save them. It was something she believed in, something she wanted to dedicate her life to. But... I couldn't understand it. I couldn't support it."

I furrowed my brow slightly, trying to grasp the concept of redeeming sinners. "Redeeming sinners?" I repeated, my voice laced with confusion. "What does that mean exactly?"

Seviathan looked thoughtful for a moment, as if considering how best to explain. "She believed that every soul, no matter how tainted, could find redemption," he explained slowly. "That by showing them kindness, understanding, and forgiveness, she could help them change their ways. She wanted to prove that even in Hell, there was hope for salvation."

I nodded slowly, processing his words. The idea seemed idealistic, almost naive, given the harsh realities of Hell. "Did you… believe in that?" I asked cautiously, unsure of what his answer might be.

Seviathan hesitated, his gaze distant as if reflecting on his own beliefs. "I... I wanted to," he admitted finally, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But I've seen too much, Valeria. I've seen the depths to which some souls can sink, the darkness that can consume them. Redemption... it's a beautiful idea, but I'm not sure it's possible for everyone. Some demons and sinners... they revel in their sins, their darkness. It's all they know, all they want."

As Seviathan spoke, his words resonated with a profound truth that stirred memories and thoughts. 

The mention of sinners reveling in their darkness brought to mind the depths of depravity that my father, Valentino, not only engaged in but exploited. His actions were not just about power and control; they were calculated maneuvers designed to manipulate and inflict pain. It wasn't merely about sins; it was about reveling in the chaos he created, relishing the fear and suffering he instilled in others.

My thoughts drifted to the countless times I witnessed his abuse unfold, the way he twisted situations to his advantage without a hint of remorse. It wasn't just darkness within him—it was a deliberate choice to embrace and perpetuate that darkness.

"I've seen it too," I murmured softly, almost to myself, but Seviathan's attentive gaze told me he heard every word. "Some... they don't just revel in their sins. They thrive on it. It's as if the darkness is their refuge, their source of strength."

Seviathan nodded slowly, understanding etched in his expression. "It's a different kind of existence," he replied, his voice tinged with empathy. "One that's difficult to comprehend unless you've faced it firsthand."

"Yeah," I whispered, a shiver running down my spine as memories of my father's actions flashed before my eyes. The exploitation, the manipulation—all of it driven by a desire to control and dominate.

"In a place like this," Seviathan continued, his voice thoughtful, "where darkness is so pervasive, where souls are tested and twisted... redemption feels like a distant dream. Some may yearn for it, but whether they can truly attain it... that's a question with no easy answer."

I nodded slowly, my mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The concept of redemption in Hell seemed almost laughable, a naive hope in a realm where survival often trumped morality.

"It's like trying to hold onto a flicker of light in an endless abyss," I murmured, my words carrying a weight of resignation. "A flicker that might fade away before it can ever truly illuminate the darkness."

Seviathan reached out, his hand resting gently on mine, a gesture of understanding and solidarity. "We can only do our best to navigate this place," he said softly. "To find our own path amidst the chaos."

As we sat together, I felt a strange sense of comfort in Seviathan's presence. In his understanding, I found a brief respite from the harsh realities of Hell—a moment of connection amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf us both.

I could sense the weight of Seviathan experiences, the doubts that clouded his beliefs. "It must have been hard," I murmured sympathetically,  squeezing his hand gently.

Seviathan managed a faint smile, though it held a touch of sadness. "It was," he admitted quietly. "And it ultimately drove a wedge between us. She wanted to change the world, to make it better. But I... I couldn't follow her down that path."

I nodded understandingly, feeling a sense of empathy for him. "Sometimes, our beliefs can lead us in different directions," I offered softly.

He nodded in agreement, his gaze meeting mine with a mixture of gratitude and resignation. "Thank you for listening, Valeria," he said sincerely. "Not many people understand."

I nodded in understanding, feeling a sense of connection with Seviathan as he shared his story. In that moment, it felt like we were the only ones in the world, sharing our vulnerabilities beneath the glow of the neon lights. I realized that meeting Seviathan was the most unexpected and pleasant surprise of my night.

As our conversation lulled, Seviathan glanced at my almost empty plate and smiled gently. "Would you like dessert?" he asked.

I hesitated for a moment, weighing the decision. It wasn't alcohol, so logically, nothing bad could happen. "Sure," I replied with a small smile, trying to push away the slight unease that fluttered in the pit of my stomach.

Seviathan signaled to the waitress, ordering two ice cream floats. The waitress returned promptly, placing the drinks before us with a polite smile. The sweet aroma of vanilla and soda mingled in the air, adding a comforting touch to the atmosphere around us.

For a brief moment bullets were shot outside, I didn't notice as Seviathan subtly poured a pink liquid into my drink when I looked away. 

We continued talking as we drank, the discussion flowing easily between us as we shared anecdotes and thoughts about life in Hell 

However, as minutes passed, I began to feel strangely light-headed. My heart raced inexplicably, and a flush of warmth spread through me whenever I caught Seviathan's gaze. It was as if I was falling under some kind of spell, emotions heightened beyond reason.

Excusing myself with a nervous laugh, I hurried to the bathroom, needing a moment to compose myself. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to dispel the dizzying sensation, but it lingered stubbornly. I took a few deep breaths, telling myself it was just the rush of emotions from the night and the connection I felt with Seviathan.

Returning to my stool, I found Seviathan waiting with a concerned expression. "Is everything alright?" he asked softly, his eyes searching mine.

"Yeah, I just needed a quick break," I replied, forcing a smile. But as I spoke, my vision began to blur slightly, colors merging into heart shapes around me.

Suddenly, the lights in the diner flickered and went out completely. Panic erupted around us as voices rose in confusion and fear. Before I could react, I felt a pair of hands grip my waist from behind and a cloth pressed over my mouth before I could scream. Darkness closed in, and everything went black.

*****************************************************************

I woke up with a violent retch, the taste of bile burning my throat as I threw up onto what felt like a leather seat. Disoriented and groggy, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. Blinking rapidly, I realized I was in the backseat of a car. As my vision cleared, I recognized Vox behind the wheel, his screen illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard.

Panic surged through me, and I sat up abruptly. "Vox! What’s happening? Where am I?"

Vox glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. "You were drugged, Valeria. You’re in my car.”

Betrayal and confusion crashed over me like a tidal wave. Seviathan... he did this? But how? I felt a lump form in my throat as I struggled to process the betrayal.

But then I panic. “Vox, where are you taking me?”

In an apathetic voice Vox says, “I'm taking you back to the mansion."

I began to hyperventilate, my mind racing with the implications. "No, please, Vox. Don’t take me back there. I can’t go back. Please."

He shook his head, his tone firm but not unkind. "I can’t do that, Valeria. Your father had a rough day today, and what you did was very foolish."

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with fear. "But I can’t face him. Please, Vox, you have to help me."

Vox sighed, his metallic voice softening slightly. "I understand your fear, but running away won’t solve anything. You need to face this. Your father may be cruel, but he wants what’s best for you, even if it doesn’t seem that way."

I continued to plead, my voice trembling. "Vox, please. He’ll... he’ll hurt me. I can’t go back there."

"Valeria," Vox said firmly, "don't make things worse for yourself. When you get home, keep your head down and don't talk back. The last thing you need is to make him angrier."

Tears streamed down my face as we drove in silence. The car's hum and the city's distant chaos were the only sounds, echoing the dread building in my chest. As we neared the mansion, my heart pounded louder with each passing moment. The front lights of Vox's car cut through the darkness of the forest path.

We finally arrive at the mansion and the lights illuminate my father's terrifying presence waiting at the entrance of the gates. His eyes, glowing with fury, locked onto the car, piercing through the windshield and sending shivers down my spine. His imposing stance, with shoulders squared and fists clenched, radiated a dangerous intensity that seemed to suffocate the air around him. The harsh light exaggerated the sharp angles of his face, casting deep shadows that accentuated his scowl, making his presence even more terrifying. As the car rolled to a stop, the engine’s low rumble seemed to echo his seething rage, amplifying the dread that churned within me.

My father stormed over to the car, his fury palpable. He yanked open the door with such force it almost broke. Vox, feeling a rare pang of pity, tried to intervene. "Valentino, don't go too hard on her."

But my father didn't listen. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me out of the car. I screamed in pain, the world blurring through my tears. He pulled me towards the mansion, his grip unrelenting.

The mansion doors slammed shut behind us, Vox’s car disappearing into the night. My father threw me inside with a force that knocked the wind out of me. Before I could react, his hand connected with my face in a brutal slap. "What were you thinking!?"

I crumpled to the floor, crying in pain, trying to crawl away. My father’s footsteps echoed ominously as he approached me. 

"Do you know how many whores I had to fuck over just for you to have a comfortable life, you malcriada?" He said as he crushed a tiny white spider that crawled into his path.

Horror surged through me as he took off his belt. "No, please, no..." I begged, my voice a broken whisper.

He ignored my pleas, his face contorted with rage, and began beating me savagely. Each strike was merciless, sending waves of excruciating pain through my body. I felt the sharp sting of his blows resonate deep within my bones, leaving a trail of bruises that blossomed across my skin like dark, angry flowers. His fury was unrestrained, each hit landing with a sickening force that made my vision blur and my screams echo in the dimly lit room. My pleas for mercy were swallowed by the relentless onslaught, leaving me gasping for breath and writhing in agony.

Before I blacked out from the pain, his final words echoed in my mind. 

"I’ll make sure you never get out again." 

His hand struck my neck, and everything went dark.

*********************************************************

Several hours later, I awoke to the dim, flickering light of the fireplace, the only source of illumination in my dark, cold room. Every inch of my body throbbed with excruciating pain, and as I tried to move, a sharp agony pierced through my shoulder blades, forcing me to collapse back onto the bed. 

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I gritted my teeth and tried again, slowly and painfully pushing myself upright. Each movement sent waves of torment through my body, but I managed to stand, swaying unsteadily on my feet.

With trembling steps, I made my way to the floor mirror. The dim light cast eerie shadows on my battered reflection. My face and body were covered in bruises, vivid reminders of my father’s savage beating. Around my neck was an electric collar, its cold metal pressing against my skin. But what truly shattered me was the sight of my back: my once moth wings were now nothing more than torn remnants, shattered and ripped away.

 A guttural cry of despair escaped my lips as I fell to the floor, sobbing in hopeless agony.

Through my tears, I noticed the Fizzarolli plushie my father had gifted me years ago, sitting in the corner of the room. Driven by a surge of raw emotion, I pushed myself to my feet again and staggered over to the plushie. I picked it up, my hands shaking with a mix of pain and fury. Without hesitation, I hurled it into the fireplace.

I watched as the plushie was consumed by the flames, its cheerful face melting away. The fire crackled and hissed, reflecting the torment within me. Tears streamed down my face as I cried silently, the plushie’s destruction a small, hollow act of defiance against the overwhelming despair that now consumed my soul. 

*********************************************************

Story available on AO3

Chapter Ten: The Infernal Quacker

[lightdancer1]

My takes on Melian and Luthien:

And ultimately Arwen, though this will get a second and a longer post.

I do think that there is a legitimate grounds in a modern audience reading Melian enchanting Elu Thingol into a trance for 200 years as something that would seem dodgy to us, though not necessarily to the same degrees in-universe.......though even then I tend to treat Melian as essentially the good mirror to Sauron and Saruman. They are all Maiar who took forms of flesh and became rulers within the world and I see Melian as essentially a close kin to Thuringwethil and a Maia whose power relies in what TV Tropes calls 'the Sacred Darkness.' Shadows are her strength and she embodies what the Dark and Night are meant to be without Morgoth's Old Night instilling fear.

In a relative 'power' ranking there's Ilmare-Eonwe-Mairon, all in equal power in different ways, Ilmare representing the light of the Maiar and of the stars and of the sacred aspects of Maiar power, Eonwe as the equivalent of the Archangel Gabriel and the messenger and empowered with the glory.....and Mairon as ultimately the great shapeshifter and the greatest mage, which is the snare Morgoth sets and why as that power grows Mairon in the Second and Third Age is relatively rather more powerful than Morgoth and ultimately the much greater danger.

Melian is the other great mage among the Ainur and it works in a very Aule-Melkor dualism. What Sauron does from pride and arrogance she does from love, and her relationship with Thingol is in no small part an aspect of where she has a very eldritch factor befitting how I portray the Ainur. Tolkien refers to them at times taking 'forms of their own thought, visible in majesty and in dread.' Melian is the singular case of an Ainu who takes shape akin to mortals and becomes very deeply interwoven with it, though as she is not Fallen she retains rather more of her power than her Fallen kin tend to and works within spheres rather than seeking dominion over them and in working within them has a tremendous amount of power that does not fade, but remains consistent.

So why does this matter? Because while the enchantment does have its aspects that make both Eldar and other Ainur uneasy, it works within the world and within the broader plan rather than against it. Elu Thingol is not an ensorceled figure, he has both free will (as is shown by his repeatedly both failing to consult his wife and ignoring her when he does) and he's open about the reality that if it was a mirror to what happened with Eol and Aredhel that he would have left as she did. It is a gesture, ultimately, of love and I tend to see Thingol as teaching Melian as much as she does him, and her students like Galadriel.

He teaches her of emotions and things that as an Ainu made manifest she does not entirely understand, and knowing what these things are and how they work in forms of flesh is a way that things become equal (and ultimately showing Thingol in both hypocrisy and growth as for all that he teaches things in the abstract applying them to himself in his own ways does not work out so well especially when it's foresight).

Luthien in turn, as the first of the Peredhil, has a specific gift with her song that it is a small portion, uncaged, of the Music of the Ainur. It is how she can sing Morgoth into a nap, and how she can cast down Sauron's fortress, and how she sings Mandos and Eru into restoring to her Beren's soul. And it is this that accounts for my particular take on Beren and Luthien and what makes Beren a soul worthy for Luthien to accept her fate. With her glimpse of the Song she has some inkling of what fate holds and as a mirror to my take on things with Arwen she balks at it for much of her life......and she lives in a gilded cage where her mother is beloved and she is seen as much as a prettier Wilbur Whateley as someone worthier of admiration.

Beautiful, yes, in an in-universe 'too beautiful and flawless' fashion. Her singing as a small portion of creation has a haunting effect that leaves strange impressions on those who see her. Melian might have her eldritch factors but everyone knows she's a Maia and while theory and practice differ in dealing with it they also know a Maia will be weird by Eldar standards.

And in this regard she is also very lonely as while others might be smitten with her she can see that they are smitten with the idea and exposure to the actual person curdles that. Enter Beren Erchamion, who sees all the weirdness and loves her unconditionally from the first, and is willing to venture into the belly of Hell for her without being deterred by all the things that chase away others.

And so when the choice comes round at last, it is not some great burden or what she expected of it, for while she and Artanis to a point can see the future they see it as through a mirror darkly, seeing events but not always their context and seldom with ideas of what it's like to actually live the visions until they're there.

[hellsgreatestshow]

Important lore and notes;

This is continuing to expand on my previous lore and theories for Hazbin Hotel. These are mine and not to be used without permission. @hellsgreatestgame is credited for helping me flesh these out better. This lore is shared with @hellsgreatestgame and @poisonedxbeauty with permission.

This covers more of the lore of heaven and the intricate workings of angels:

The fracture of Eden from heaven caused a new shift. Many angels found new purpose while many others became lost. They became ignorant and even forgot the importance of humans and God's plan.

Angels who struggled to accept change were exiled or given impossible tasks to busy them while the faithful were rewarded with jobs of grandeur. Many got posotions working by guiding prayers, assigning prophets, or just watching over the humans. These jobs earned fast perks around heaven too.

Things had been working well until the arrival of the first winner and the original man, Adam.

His reckless attitude and pension for tempting angels opened new issues. Man allowed temptation into heaven and angels began finding a slight newfound independence. They began trying human pleasure. Very little repercussions came from this aside from the growing disappoint in God for his failed dreams.

Throughout the changes in heaven, God grew close to select angels. They were an inner circle of sorts.

Metatron is the exception though. He was God's assistant and the closest to God but he was not favored by the creator.

Adam was a favorite of God and therefore gifted with a higher power for being the first human soul in heaven. he has much stronger abilities more like a pure angel as opposed to just a human soul turned winner. An altered form of angels.

Winners are selected and granted a home that becomes their own personal paradise with communal area for everyone to socialize.

Some natural angels do not respect the winners while others still adore them. This has lead to angels now dating and even mating with winners. Angels and winner mating is not out right forbidden but it's not talked about. Angels mating with humans is forbidden. Angels mating with demons is down right blasphemy to the council.

Angels do have their own respective clouds to create their own ideal leaving arrangement.

Only a few centuries or so after the separation of his creations god left. Heaven now encountered a huge hole in the foundation of heaven.

The archangels fretted over what to do for sometime and that was when a new council was formed. The angels began shaping their own hierarchy. New responsibilities meant new powers and jobs.

This council became the judge and jury for everyone brought before them. Many angels were expelled or suffered unusual punishments like working under Adam.

Michael has taken up as the one leading the charge with the other archangels following. Next would be the thrones who act as the seers keeping a system of balances. Seraphims are the next in line followed by the council which is made up of a mix of these upper classes. There are many levels and ways to advance through the ranks all the way to Seraphim. Cherubs however are the lowest of angels and seen more like pets.

What actual qualifies a soul for heaven is unknown to everyone.

Some angels still get great joy in observing humans and helping them. But any interaction is limited. Demons, however, are mostly off limits. Heaven does not like to get involved with hell.

Extermination was only agreed to after a long process. Most angels do not know about the embassy or that heaven has been dealing with Hell at all.

[saints-wrapped-in-plastic]

LORE FILES

HARPER NOONSTAR aka KOTO NUNSUTA [Koto Nunsuta is Harper Noonstar in Japanese.] {Known} Name: Harper Alias: Koto, Harp, Harper Age: [Unknown] Species: Nephilim [Angel x Human] Gender: Female Height: 5'3 Eye Color: Black [gray sclera, black irises] {Known} Abilities: Shape-shifting, teleportation, flight, and night vision. Mother: Calliope Noonstar, an archangel created to replace Lucifer as the guardian of Imagination and Joy. She was wed to a seraphim named Malakiel, who was adorned her protector. However, Malakiel did not truly love her, and the marriage was unfulfilling. She began sneaking to Earth despite warnings, falling in love with a Japanese man named Joyoki. Father: Joyoki Akarui, a Japanese potter and scholar whom worked for the Emperor of the time. He fell for Calliope (under the name Kariope) when she entered his shop in her human disguise, and began frequenting it, at first wishing to explore his methods, and then wishing to see him. They met during the Nara period, and Koto was born during the Heian period, the Golden Age of the classical Japanese empire.

AU 1: HEAVENSENT In this AU, Calliope was not caught with Joyoki. She was wed to him, however, once she found she was with child, she tricked Malakiel into thinking it was his. Calliope birthed the child, left it in heaven, and then fled to Hell to live with her lover, however, they were both slain during extermination. In this AU, she was raised in Heaven by Malakiel and the Seraphim.

AU 2: HELLBOUND

In this AU, Calliope was caught with Joyoki in the human realm and he was killed by Malakiel and sentenced to Hell. Calliope is locked in heaven, but she is able to hide her pregnancy with her heavenly powers, escape from Heaven, and give her baby to her lover before returning to Hell, knowing she would be punished severely. Calliope is currently locked in Limbo. In this AU, Harper was raised in Hell by her father before he died during an extermination day. She was told the truth of her birth mother as he bled out. Realizing her powers, she eventually learned to teleport, even able to open portals to other Rings and Earth. AU 3: GUILT TRIP Has the same start as AU 1, however, during her residence in heaven, Michael, of whom she was well acquainted, became possessed by Roo. In order to drive her out, she sacrificed herself and took the demon on her, before killing herself, banishing Roo back to Hell. Lucifer, however, came across her drifting soul, and gave her a body, since her soul was half-human and half-angel, she had no body yet could not die. He gave her a special form. She can shape-shift from a fun-sized version of herself, three feet, with button eye-like irises and pink cheeks. When she is her normal size, which is about five foot two, she still has her pink cheeks, like Lucifers, but her eyes are just black instead of buttons, with x's in her irises. She has stitch marks around her wrists, neck and ankles. Her demon form is seven feet tall, with an elongated neck, stitched covering her body and face like patchwork, braided, cotton like hair that looks like woolen snakes, and large button eyes, with a threaded tail.

[wisdomrays]

REFLECTIONS ON THE QUR'AN: Suratu'l-Baqarah (The Cow) : Part 13

And We granted Jesus son of Mary the clear proofs of the truth (and of His Messengership), and confirmed him with the Spirit of Holiness. (Al-Baqarah 2:87)

A great number of verifying scholars opine that the Spirit of Holiness is the Archangel Gabriel. This is so in many of the Qur’anic commentaries, too. On the other hand, Hassan ibn Thābit, a Companion of the Prophet Muhammad, said in the presence of the Prophet: “Gabriel, the emissary of God, is with us. There is no one equal to the Spirit of Holiness.”[1] And Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, appreciated it. Therefore, according to the logic of this hadīth, Gabriel is not the Spirit of Holiness. The Spirit cannot be Prophet Jesus, peace be upon him, either because it is said in the verse, “…and confirmed him (Jesus) with the Spirit of Holiness.” It is obvious in the verse that the one who is confirmed cannot be the same as the one who is employed to confirm. In my opinion, the Spirit of Holiness is a spiritual power from the heavenly realm that is poised to support anyone whom God wills to be supported by His order and leave. Thus, when the time came to support Jesus, it took on the “color” the Gospel; when the time came to support Prophet Muhammad, this Spirit was manifest in the Qur’ān.

First of all, Prophet Jesus was sent to his people with self-evident miracles that serve to elevate the people to crystal clear proofs, faith, and persuasion. In addition to becoming self-evident, they are also very clear evidences in regard to proving certain other truths. Those miracles are mentioned in the Qur’ān as follows: Prophet Jesus, peace be upon him, fashioned out of clay something in the shape of a bird, then he breathed into it, and it became a bird by God’s leave. He healed the blind from birth and the leper, and he revived the dead, by God’s leave. And he informed of what things people ate, and what they stored up in their houses.[2] Apart from these, Jesus’ confirmation by the Spirit of Holiness indicates the existence of a particularity in his mission. That is, Prophet Jesus is confirmed with the Spirit of Holiness as his mission is distinguished by spirituality. Or else, the Spirit is not a part of Jesus’ personality as some Christians assert. It marks a special favor of God and a particular manifestation for Jesus. This favor or manifestation may well be represented by Gabriel or another angel.

The Spirit of Holiness was constantly with Jesus in different forms of manifestation or representation. He was with him from the moment Mary conceived him until her delivery of the child. Since Almighty God willed to send Jesus as a Prophet to people who were addicted to a materialist world-view, He embraced him with and brought him up in a pure spiritual or metaphysical atmosphere and confirmed him with pure spirituality which would dispel the materialism of people.

In addition, the confirmation of Jesus with the Spirit of Holiness marks his and his mother’s sanctification against the slanders of people. This also denotes the Qur’ān’s verdict of Jesus’ acquittal against the slanderers. Certainly, God knows the best.

[muzzleroars]

If the four Archangels (Our good ol' pal, Lucifier included) born at the same time, I like to imagine them as kids with small goat tails and tiny wings with halos still devoleping. What kind of silly mischeif scenero that involves curiousity with the Father (Prior to dying and everything going sideways) just scolding them for abrutly leaving a very important meeting or flight lession just to look at something they had never seen before?

AAA BABY ANGELS....i like to think that lucifer was made first, then several angels of the highest choirs (seraphim, cherubim, and thrones), with the archangels coming soon afterward as a little set. but they all basically grew up with lucifer as he was meant to prepare them for their role as leaders, and they helped build the very foundations of heaven as their first job. angels as entities aren't really given the time to be children, set to their task instantly upon their animation, but i really like the idea that this shouldn't be the case as they are filled with wonder and confusion that should be given time to breathe. and lucifer tried to give them that space. lucifer was ostensibly supposed to guide them, especially michael as their head, but he often broke up their work to take them exploring through much of the still primordial chaos. they could see forms taking shape there and lucifer told them all about the process of creation (i like to think he was an angel meant to facilitate that process, bringing light into darkness), to which they would all ask a million questions (he answered with confidence, despite being barely older than them lol)

any new sights they saw acted as a distraction, with the four of them highly curious about the rapidly growing world around them. each and every one of them was also enthusiastic about their roles...probably too much lol michael was lassoing other angels CONSTANTLY, practicing his aim and building his strength terrorizing thrones and other cherubim (also seraphim once or twice, which both god and lucifer scolded him for. he got his chains taken away a lot lol) gabriel was known to roughhouse a little too much when he played with many of the other angels, not knowing his own strength. he also flew WAY beyond his limits, often tiring his wings out and getting stranded in high places (panics so much he sometimes loses his physical form until lucifer gets him down). raphael was absolutely a treat thief, always finding ways to sneak extra shares of bread and honey to share with everyone else. he would also wander off to go pick flowers, both to give as gifts for other angels to put in their homes or as more snacks (gabe LOVES flowers and raph wanted to find his favorite). uriel liked to find lots of time to be on his own, often exploring the quieter places in heaven and particularly enjoying expansive, sunny fields where he could watch the clouds go by - including when he's supposed to be working.

really lucifer actively took the blame for a lot of this, figuring he was responsible for them anyway and that they should get the time to explore who they are. their transgressions were never treated as severe anyway, each of them simply exploring their roles in a time before god became so strict and punishing. and it was a point of pride to see all their halos taking shape, molded by the kind of angel they were becoming. as more angels were made they began taking on their respective roles, though michael continued to gravitate toward lucifer to learn from his leadership more extensively. and while they did grow in their responsibilities and take their positions more seriously as they got older, they still indulged in their freedom for a time until lucifer fell...and heaven changed entirely.

[delay33]

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Root of Eden

Chapter 1

"Sera, where are we?" Emely whispered. Her fear-filled eyes wandered restlessly over the gloomy land. Rotten and corrupt, it was shrouded in the deepest darkness, driven by a silence that only death itself could bring. No life seemed to be able to take a foothold here. "You are too young to recognize it. This is what Lucifer did when he betrayed us. When he set the root of pure evil free by giving Eve the fruit." Sadness was reflected in Sera's voice. "This is the Garden of Eden. The rotten paradise.”

"It can't be," Emely whispered into her hands. Of course she knew the story of how the former archangel deceived heaven when he gave Eve the cursed fruit and set Root free. But no one had ever mentioned that he turned the Garden of Eden into a cursed neverland. "It's a secret, only I and the archangels know about it, and..." Sera paused. Hesitated to continue. "If you really believe that souls can be redeemed, there is only one angel who can judge this. Come on, we're almost there, stay close to me and be quiet." Emely pressed close to Sera as they followed the small path through the red blossoming trees.

At first she thought they were gruesome looking flowers with an unusual color. But on closer look, she realized that they were many tiny withered apples, shimmering with the power of Root.

"Don't touch them. The corruption is everywhere here." Sera warned them with urgency. They passed through the dark forest in silence, careful not to get too close to the trees that seemed to be following them. The question of which angel called this his home was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't dare to speak. This place seemed to suck all the courage and hope out of her chest. It was all the more relieving to leave the forest and step into the open field in front of her. However, her breath caught in her throat. He stood in the middle of this field. The once mighty and magnificent Eden Tree resembled a memorial to all that Lucifer's betrayal had caused. It was nothing more than a ghostly skeleton of rotten wood.

She looked alarmed at the heavy fog that covered the ground around him. "You will keep quiet and stay behind me. No one knows what shape she's in. She never got over the fall of her garden, after all, she was no more than a child when it happened. Her strength alone is the only thing that keeps the garden standing. Since its fall, she has slept in her Tree and is waiting.”

"But why? He's dead." Sera glanced nervously to the side. "Hope dear sister, hope is all that keeps her here. There is no other place for her. She is the Garden of Eden. She's an angel of creation, a guardian."

"But then doesn't she hate Lucifer?"

"You want evidence Emely? If Lucifer's little daughter manages to convince Eden, then the Council will have no objections to helping her. That's what you wanted, isn't it?”

Yes, she wanted that, but what price would it be to unleash an angel on hell who had every reason to destroy him as she had once destroyed her empire? "Give me your hand, it will take the power of both of us to awaken her." Sera held out her hand in invitation. Emely hesitantly offered it to her. Her magic filled the air with a crackling sound.

"Eden, wake up! We have a pleasure to ask of you."

Nothing but silence answered her, but the fog seemed to grow thicker and thicker. It closed around her ankles like a cold grip and she moved closer to Sera. "Lucifer killed Adam in hell and is rebelling again. You get down there and see if his sinners deserve redemption. We need to know if the Fallen One dares to dream again." At the mention of his name, a rustle broke the silence. At first it was a muttering that resembled the sound of the wind. The murmuring became a whisper. A broken voice sounded from inside the tree.

"Lu...cifer?"

"That's right, go to hell, find Adam and make sure they focus on his redemption. You decide if the doomed have a chance to rise to heaven. Or if it's just an excuse for Lucifer to rebel again.”

Two green eyes lit up in the darkness. They stared venomously at Sera, as if weighing up whether it was worth remaining peaceful. It seemed as if they were silently communicating with the elder seraphim. The figure that slowly separated from the darkness was different from what she had expected. Where the purity of her kind was reflected in bright blue and white, Eden's delicate pale skin stood in stark contrast to her pink hair, which was streaked with individual red strands flowing over her wings like silk.

At first Emely thought the angel had horns like a demon, but on closer look she realized that they were branches with apple blossoms sprouting from them. Vines twined along her long pale green dress as if they were alive. "She was once nicknamed Mother Nature, even though she was only so young at the time. Most of the earth's plants sprang from her ideas." Sera whispered almost respectfully.”

"You do me far too much first, big sister." Sweet and dark, Eden's voice softly caressed her ears. "Who's the little lady by your side?" Unexpectedly, Sera pushed Emely closer behind her as Eden stepped closer and eyed her down. A delicate scent of apple blossoms hung in the air. "She is the seraphim of humanity." She replied curtly. "Emely, you should go." A portal opened right next to her. Before she could object, she was pushed through. The last thing she saw was a knowing smile from Eden, which made her green eyes light up. An uneasy feeling spread through her chest as she stood alone in her room. She had to warn Charlie.

"That was very rude Sera, the poor thing looked a little confused." A wicked smile sneaked across Eden's red lips. "You were very quick to replace Lucifer."

"Quickly? Eden, it's been eons since you fell asleep after his betrayal." Eden clicked with her tongue.

"And now I'm supposed to judge whether Lucifer is trying the same thing again? What happened?" Sera hesitantly told her what happened. "Adam is dead and his soul has been thrown into hell. You have to find him before he causes trouble. Let's face it, he's a disaster. Lucifer's daughter firmly believes that sinners can be redeemed. She has to help Adam, and if she succeeds, the terms with hell will be discussed again.”

"Oh, so I'm allowed to hurt him as much as I want?" Eden bared her teeth with a grin. Whatever had happened to her back then. Root had changed her too.

Chapter 2

Coming soon..

@luleck

[kathyprior4200]

Heavenly Boss Woo-Hoo Land

Part One: Quartet

Azrael “Angel of God” was the Archangel of Death, and like God’s Accuser Samael and other angels of death, he oversaw the annual exterminations that occurred every year in Hell. (Adina was the founder of the Exorcists). Samael was buff, bold, blonde, and fiery in appearance but not Azrael. In his true form, he appeared as a gaunt skeletal man with multiple arms, glowing eyes, and a dozen black feathery wings (Sometimes covered with eyes) extending from his back. In his everyday form, he had thick long black hair sometimes cut short, dark eyes like black holes, and a pale ghostly face. He wore a black well-ironed uniform, a dark hood and carried a sharp reaper scythe wherever he went. When he was younger, he dreaded doing his destined profession, but over time, he grew used to taking life, though he often appeared somber. He kept a special book where he recorded births and deaths of individuals, a rather tedious task.

Contrary to the ruthless Samael and the cold-hearted Adina, Azrael despised the thought of killing sinners for enjoyment. Death was, after all, a loss of life, no matter if the person had sinned or not. He especially cringed at the various torture methods employed by Samael and Adina. Comparing Samael’s burning, eye-gorging methods to Adina instilling visions of a sinner’s greatest fears, he didn’t know which was worse. He only allowed the Exorcists because 1. It was tradition and God’s order and 2. The sinners’ deaths would be more merciful with the angelic weapons as it was claimed. (But when Azrael discovered that the essences of sinners became part of Hell’s infrastructure, he was horrified but could do nothing about it.) And so, Azrael faithfully and somberly carried out his duties to reap souls and help escort them to the afterlife, providing his victims with as much solace as possible. For those who had sinned, the reaping of their souls was more painful. God would inform Azrael of when it would be time to take a soul…thus Azrael was quite busy.

Azrael also lived in a palace like Samael and other Archangels. However, while Samael’s place was full of fiery torches, golden walls and weapons, Azrael’s palace was…well, deathlike. The palace was made of onyx and frequently decorated with bones of animals, demons, angels, and humans alike. Strangely enough, Azrael’s palace lay underneath Samael’s crimson palace on the outskirts of Heaven. Both men were keepers of the Bible and several books that allowed passage to the other realms. In Samael’s basement, there was a trapdoor portal that led down into Azrael’s attic. Both men needed permission from the other to go into their respective homes.

Azrael’s palace, concealed within dark clouds, had an underground feel to it. In some areas, the walls were made of black stone, with iron torches emitting teal blue fire that felt icy cold. It had several bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, and a vast high-ceilinged kitchen. The chandeliers were decorated with human skulls over the dark polished dining room table that was shaped like a coffin. A bookcase held several books about human anatomy, diseases, funeral rites, necromancy, undertaking, biology, and a few on astronomy. A few of the rooms had large windows to let in light and show a stunning view of the sky outside.

Azrael had a lovely wife Flora (Stella’s opposite) and a bubbly nature-loving swan daughter: Quartet Enoch (Octavia’s opposite) who was born in April. Well, he was actually her adoptive father. Her real father, Menadel was one of the 72 angels and previous husband of Flora. Menadel was the opposite of the Ars Goetia demon Stolas. Preoccupied with nature and God, the part white swan workaholic Menadel didn’t concern himself with raising her, so the nature angel Flora did it instead. Azrael and Flora fell in love, and he became her adoptive father.

0 0 0

 Before she was seventeen, Quartet was a young child.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

The child voice of their daughter rang from the other room. Sleeping in the master bedroom were Azrael and Flora. Flora was an avian angel of nature, with long black feathers, a crown, and green dresses decorated with flowers and gems. Flora had fallen in love with Azrael, and he soon took her away into his dark domain along with a baby Quartet. (Flora’s mother wasn’t too pleased).

“Tet is calling us, Azrael,” mumbled Flora next to him.

“You get up,” Azrael grumbled. “I have work early this morning.”

Just then, Quartet came bustling into the room with a big grin on her face. She had white hair, a black feathery face, green eyes, and a dark green dress with black flowers on it.

She floated onto the bed with her small black wings as her parents sat up. “I had a dream! A really good dream!”

Azrael yawned. “You’re telling us now at three in the morning?”

“It’s alright,” Flora said, her black hair and eyes matching her daughter’s.

Quartet spread her arms. “I was dancing with you all over the palace. We were singing songs about sunshine and life! And everyone could be alive again…”

Azrael scoffed. “Some thoughts from the daughter of death.”

Flora glared at her husband then smiled down at her. “I think that dream sounds marvelous, my special little Seadrop. But I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” Quartet asked. “I promise I’ll go right to sleep. Please?”

Flora looked earnestly at her husband who sighed. “Fine.”

Azrael stood up and carried his daughter back into her room. The room had black walls which were decorated with cut up colorful flowers. She had a canopy over her bed like a princess and snake stuffed animals littered the floor. On a dresser was a figure of Jesus on a wooden cross.

“It may not seem like it now, but…I won’t always be here for you,” Azrael said as he sat on the bed with her in his lap. “Life isn’t just fun and games. You must remember, no matter what happens to me, I’ll never be far away.” Quartet’s face fell as she pondered his words.

Azrael flipped through a Bible, past a spell page used to travel to Earth. He waved his hand and a portal appeared below them. He sang in a calm tone.

“It always seems foreboding in the depths.”

The two of them fell through the portal and into a vast ocean. They were surrounded by swaying seaweed, goldfish and a rocky bottom.

Rahab, an underwater fallen angel, sat on the sea floor, all chained up. He had flowing blue hair that circled his head in a tangled mess. Some areas of his skin were covered with barnacles and spines, almost like he was part of the ocean itself. Similar to Tiamat and Leviathan, he was seen as a water dragon of chaos. But Quartet only saw a longing for peace and freedom when she gazed into his fathomless eyes.

Azrael turned her away from him and continued his song.

“Mystery with each step”

“How silence grows under the sea”

“As bottomless as can be.”

He carried his adoptive daughter, walking underwater, both of them breathing normally.

As Azrael took steps, the flora and animals around him shriveled up and died.

“I used to think that I was brave.”

“That my duty was all said and done.”

“And now all my stories have been told”

“Except for one”

He looked down at his daughter with love and uncertainty in his eyes as they rose to the sea surface.

A giant tidal wave swept up and crashed onto a nearby town.

“As the waves start to arise, I hope it comes as no surprise”

“That even on that day”

He hugged her, trying to get her to sleep.

“Everything will be okay.”

Overhead, lightning flashed across the sky. The ground shook and broke apart while volcanos spewed lava and ash that coated all of Earth.

“And when the Heavens crash aground”

“And you hear the trumpets sound”

“You will make it through”

“And I’ll be here for you.”

Quartet yawned and fell asleep in her father’s arms.

Angels blew trumpets as they flew over armies clashing below. A leopard with 666 on it was slain with a splash on a shore. Flames and dark magic were tearing two worlds apart, one in white clouds, the other in brimstone. Dark angels holding spears fought off monstrous humanoids, demons, dragons, and hellhounds. Lucifer and Michael were squaring off, wielding powerful flaming swords. Lilith was yelling at a ruthless angel in white who was tormenting demons around her. A bunch of other angels stood in the clouds, ready to fire arrows at any demon they saw. Humans screamed and ran for cover nearby.

And a horned blond princess stood before a man in a throne, her body ignited on fire. Flames encircled her and swirled protectively around several demons. She appeared to be trying to take demons with her, while the portals to the crumbling worlds tried to suck its inhabitants back through.

Charlie’s hair briefly turned white with pink highlights in it. She let out a high-pitched musical scream and the world filled with an intensely bright light.

Azrael continued, his words growing louder in harmony:

“And when creation turns to dust”

“We will all do what we must”

“Upon my last day”

“You will still be okay.”

The portal closed as Azrael draped a skull blanket over a sleeping Quartet. He looked back at her one last time before closing the door.

0 0 0

Many years later…

Quartet at age 17 rose out of bed and happily put in her earbuds. A happy pop song called “My Life Is Shining All Around Me” played as she hummed along. Her room had black walls and a few skulls here and there but that was where the similarities between her and her father ended.

Cut-out colorful flowers and musical posters hung around her room. Her bed and rug were bright grass green. Some of the posters showed a variety of animals in a forest with “All life matters” on it. There were books of nature, weather, herbs, geography, geology and even the study of snow.

Quartet was the opposite of a stark, gloomy goth teenager. To her adoptive father’s surprise, she was more like a Barbie or a Disney princess at times. She would often spend her time writing and listening to cheerful songs, possibly to make things less depressing. Azrael loved his daughter but found her cheerfulness to be out of his comfort zone.

The swan princess strolled down a hallway, dodging, and maneuvering around venomous snakes that were pets of Azrael. She wore dark pants, heels, and a green shirt with black skulls on it. (There were a few traits she had adopted as she lived with Azrael.)

“Morning Mom! Morning Dad!” she called cheerfully as she walked into the kitchen.

“Are you daydreaming about Samael again?” Flora asked Azrael in suspicion.

“Of course not,” he replied. “He’s a pompous hot-headed brass-hole that needs to really chill out.”

“Then why are you writing down ‘He’s a fire to my life, a dangerous savior of strife,’ on the paper?”

A blushing Azrael glanced at the “Oh Samael” song lyrics surrounded by heart doodles and crumbled it up. “Just a little thought, heh, heh, nothing more. Though he’s been pestering my favorite elf friend, bribing him to hand over a Bible and be punished every month. If he weren’t so sadistic, he could very well be…I-I’ll just stop talking…”

He paused under Flora’s cold glare. Flora rolled her eyes, gave Quartet a hug, and gave an elf butler some blueberries before she left the room.

Quartet sat down and got ready to have some cereal. “Charity Crunch” was on the cereal box. She drank from a mug.

“What are you listening to?” Azrael asked casually.

“’My World Is Shining Around Me’ by Love You Dad. It’s a band,” Quartet replied.

“How charming!”

Azrael opened a fridge, took out a piece of steak and tossed it to a nearby giant snake covered with eyes on its scales in an adjacent area. The snake chewed and gobbled up its meal.

Quartet brightened as she came up with an idea. “You know what we haven’t done in a long, long time?” She went over to her father with a smile. “We haven’t been to one of my favorite places in all of Heaven! Why don’t we go to Woo-Hoo Land?”

“You’re not five anymore,” Azrael remarked, a monotone look on his pale face. He straightened his dark hair and adjusted his pointed black crown on his head.

“I was always so happy when we went to Woo-Hoo Land! What do you say we go there again? Just the two of us?”

“I don’t suppose reaping myself would make things better?” Azrael muttered.

“That’s the spirit!” Quartet said, bypassing his comment. “Anything but staying in this house. Now go call some more people to come with us.”

“More people?”

“Of course,” said Quartet. “Two people isn’t as much fun. Three and four make a party!”

Azrael walked over to a rotary phone with skull shaped speakers carried by the elf butler.

“You do realize I have a lot of work to do,” he said.

“You can always go back to it!” Quartet mentioned.

“I’m only doing this for you,” he said with a sigh as he rotated the dial.

At the E.L.F. office, Tirred was casually throwing darts at a picture of Sunna.

There was a loud knock on his door.

“What?” Tirred yelled.

“Docile wants to see us,” Timmid said with a flinch.

In Docile’s office, Docile was talking to Azrael on his cell phone. A white mug was in front of him with the words “#2 Boss, God is #1” on it.

“Azrael, sir, it’s been a while.”

“Indeed. Has Samael been troubling you again?”

“Yep.”

“Do me a favor and don’t subject yourself to his punishments. He might need the Bible for his work, but I do as well, and I can handle him.”

“Oh. Uh, I’ll get it to you as soon as I can…”

“But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m taking my daughter to Woo-Hoo Land, and I was hoping you noble elves would accompany us.”

“That does sound fun, but we’re guardian angels, not bodyguards.”

“Close enough. I’ll pay you.”

“With what?”

“Money.”

“We never ask for fees,” Docile said.

 Azrael sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’ll get to play Save the Soul, and I’ll give you a free Gabriel’s Trumpet toy.”

“Done!” Docile affirmed, hanging up. He produced a megaphone. “T and T, get in here! We’re going to Woo-Hoo Land!”

“Woo-Hoo Land?” Tirred asked, eyebrow raised.

“Woo-Hoo Land?” Timmid asked fearfully, bumping into the door.

“Woo-Hoo Land!” Docile confirmed.

“Wake me up when it’s over!” Sunna called from another room.

Part Two: Woo-Hoo Land

Docile drove the group (minus Sunna) down a golden highway in a blue van. The exit sign to the right read “Halo of Charity, Exit 33.”

After getting past toll booths and security, they made it to the amusement park. The van pulled into a crowded parking lot. The van door had an E.L.F. decal in bright blue on it. Tirred wore a white suit and sunglasses. He got out and pulled open the van door. Azrael’s dark silhouette appeared with red eyes before he hopped out with a look of annoyance on his face. Quartet’s green eyes glowed in the darkness before she cheerfully hopped out as well.

“Whoa!” Quartet exclaimed in admiration.

The amusement park was unlike anything she had seen before. Back when she was little, it was mostly a small theme park with blueberry mascots like Archangel Michael’s Woo-Hoo World. But not wanting to come across as someone to plagiarize ideas, the legendary Archangel Gabriel talked with Michael about the situation. He then decided to rebuild it and create a stunning place of his own vision. Under the white sky of the Charity Halo, the amusement park and added water park attraction sparkled in a crystalline glow with indestructible crystal structures. Many denizens claimed it even surpassed Michael’s theme park. Many people loved to go there because they would often get free things. Everyone, including the rich would go in and a part of their payments would go to charity (both to the Charity Halo and charities in need.)

A white sign read in bold gold letters, “Gabriel’s Woo-Hoo Land.” In the background were roller coasters, a Ferris Wheel, water slides, swimming pools, food stands, fun houses, and plenty of games. A vendor sold balloons that looked like white lilies.

“Gabriel certainly made some great improvements,” remarked an impressed Azrael. An elf handed Quartet a white lily balloon and she happily took it. She also got a white baseball cap with a gold “G” on it. They all got their tickets and headed inside.

“Remember,” said Docile. “I’m here to have fun, but eventually I’ll need to go back to work. Humans aren’t going to save themselves, you know.”

Azrael stayed silent.

“Not like you’d understand, anyway,” Docile continued.

Azrael turned to him, pointing with an accusing finger. “If you try to embarrass me in this park, I swear…”

“Swearing’s not allowed,” Docile added.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I am literally getting hyper!” said Quartet, clapping her hands. “I haven’t been here in forever!”

“Well, have at it, flower lady,” Tirred said with a roll of his eyes. He fumbled in his bag. “I have several things you might like. Sunna’s catnip. Sunshine D, endorphins.” He briefly held needles with golden liquid in them.

“No thanks,” she said. “If anything, you need those more than me.”

Tirred yawned and scoffed. “Not likely.” He tossed the needles aside and they landed on a cardboard target of Lucifer.

“Nice shot,” called a kid as an elf baby crawled dangerously close to the needles. A cotton candy booth was nearby.

On a wall were posters that read, “Woo-Hoo World in Holy City, partnering with this park!” “Bio Rizz show at 7PM!” “Woo-Hoo Land is still better.”

“Oh no!” Timmid whimpered, pointing ahead. “It’s Little Sprite!”

She pointed a shaking finger at an animatronic of a white sheep with big eyes near a booth that read “Lilith’s Army Attacks!”. The sheep burst into a repeated song: “Good people spread the love! Praise the Holy Lord above!”

“That thing always was annoying,” Tirred said in agreement. “And too cute to be true.” He made a face of disgust and suspicion.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” said Docile from nearby.

“Of course you would,” Tirred said. If only his boss could see things from his perspective. Maybe if he could punish some sinners, take his place, see the adoration for him in his eyes…

“Have…have you been here before?” Timmid asked softly, interrupting his thoughts.

“No need to waste my time at a kid’s place,” Tirred replied, crossing his arms. Then he grinned. “Did you hear about the mascots here?”

Timmid’s eyes grew wide. “M-mascots?”

Just then, a giant golden trumpet popped up in front of them.

“Hallelujah helloooo!”

“Ahh!” Timmid screamed, cowering behind Tirred.

“I’m Woo-Hoo!” greeted the smiling elf from inside the trumpet costume. “Welcome to Woo-Hoo Land! If you get hurt, free compensation and care!”

Quartet and Azrael stood by a carousel with moving white unicorns and horses with wings. 

“Look, Daddy! It’s Woo-Hoo!” said Quartet, pointing.

“I have a question,” Azrael asked.

“Ask away, my lord,” said Woo-Hoo with a bow.

“Since this theme park is brand new, do you think Michael will try to copy it?”

The elf smirked. “I’d like to see him try. His theme park may have been updated with rides made out of gold and gemstones, but they don’t have the big water park like we do here. No need to brag but we are in the uppermost Halo of Heaven. I think Michael is secretly jealous sometimes.”

“Quite a lot of healthy confidence there,” Azrael said.

“Yes,” said Quartet. She pulled her adoptive dad along, “Now let’s go check out the rides!”

0 0 0

Tirred and Timmid headed down a pathway while a sweating Tirred stopped to catch his breath. “You really dislike this place, huh?”

“I h-hate this place!” Timmid exclaimed in fear. “My parents would bring me and my siblings here. My siblings made me go on all the scary rides! Don’t even mention the upside-down roller coaster.”

“Ah the classic ‘Loop-De-Loop,’” Tirred mentioned with a grin. “Let’s try that one first!”

“You are such a jerk!”

“You are such a wuss.”

An elf wearing tight clothing and a white hat pushed a wheelbarrow full of toys into a nearby toy shop. A nearby sign on a brick wall showed a Bio Rizz doll and the words, “New! Rizzy Buddy! He laughs, he sings, he prays! Tell your parents to buy me! Over 100 lovable phrases! Posable! Only 48% asbestos.”

The two elves approached a window where dove plushies and trumpet shaped novelty cups with Gs on them were sold for 25 cents.

“How do these people manage to sell so much food?” Timmid wondered as customers got to relax with heaps of heavenly hamburgers and hot dogs.

Tirred mentioned, “Yeah, this place seems excessively generous. I mean, giving people 10 novelty cups they won’t even use?”

Docile came over, fumbling with cups and wearing a lily hat. He dropped several cups.

“I can’t hold these much longer! Vendors keep giving more!”  Timmid giggled.

After straightening himself up, Docile played a tune from a toy trumpet. Tirred stood still and spoke in a monotone voice. “My name is Tirred, I’m your employee and your horn has no truth power on me whatsoever.”

Docile looked at it in disappointment. “Very funny.”

He set the cups down on the ground. “Why don’t you two go and have some fun? I gotta go watch Azrael.”

He glanced at Quartet who held a white balloon in her hand.

Tirred picked up Timmid and raced onward.

“Where are we going?” she asked in fear.

“To the scariest ride of course!” He smirked again as Timmid yelled “Nooo!” in protest. They went on the Loop-De-Loop roller coaster that spun them upside down as the trumpet mascot posed by a rules sign. A shaken Timmid was later comforted by a pink winged horse at a petting zoo after the ride.

Timmid then glanced over at the water park and grinned. “Your turn to follow my lead. They manifested their golden staffs and waved them over their bodies. Tirred was soon in black swim trunks with skulls on them, white Timmid wore a white one-piece bathing suit. Tirred couldn’t help but stare a while at her beautiful figure, breasts, and curves.

“Let’s go, goo-goo eyes,” she pulled him along, Tirred blushing despite himself.

Tirred grinned as he and Timmid raced over to the water slides. They screamed in delight as they raced each other down teal blue slides riding on blue body surf boards. One water slide ride had a seat where the person was dropped randomly down a steep white slide. Several couples cruised on love boats shaped like crescent moons. Several kids yelled in delight as they were jetted out a waterslide in the air before zooming into another one on the other side. Being angels, they didn’t have to worry about heights. One sign read, “Please keep your arms and wings folded at all times!”

“I dare you to try this one!” Tirred said to Timmid, mentioning to the drop-down ride. Timmid only grinned. “You go first. You lose if you scream.”

“You know I always win courage contests. I never scream.”

“Prove it.”

Sure enough, Tirred took his place in the black wet seat, stood and waited.

After a few minutes, he sighed. “Is this thing broken? This means that you are the wuss elf and I win. Killing demons is nothing compared to…AHHH!”

Tirred screamed as he was suddenly dropped down the white water slide, speeding down until landing safely at the bottom. He spat water from his mouth and shook his head of hair as Timmid posed over him with a smug look. “I win, you lose, now you get a big fat booze.”

Tirred then laughed, coughing up water. “Booze? There’s none here. Though I wouldn’t mind one.” He shook water off his white wings.

“Come on, let’s get dried off,” Timmid said as they stepped onto the concrete. “Where are the towels?”

“Don’t need ‘em,” Tirred replied. He waved their golden staffs again and they appeared again, dry, in their regular clothes.

“Sure is great to be immortal in paradise,” Tirred grinned.

“Technically only God, the elite angels and the saints are truly immortal,” Timmid mentioned.

“Oh, shut up!”

Quartet happily carried her balloon in her hand, munching on pink cotton candy while Azrael slouched on in boredom. Quartet noticed some of the swimming pools had water of different colors and smells: red for strawberry, orange water for oranges, lemon yellow pools, green, blue, purple, pink, and rainbow. Of course, the water didn’t taste good, as one little angel kid found out. Nearby hot tubs had divine holy water that provided healing properties and other ones could make you laugh or feel sleepy. One hot tub was actually cold. There was even an “Earth Hot Tub” on display with regular water. A nearby sign added, “Earth Hot Tub, Boring Isn’t It? Well, Have Fun Anyway.” A large pool flashed advertisements at the swimmers, each image tailoring to the customer’s likes.

Quartet and Azrael walked by a stand that read “Angel Cakes: Eternal Bliss” with popcorn and a sausage on a fork. Docile snuck around like a secret agent with his golden staff. He appeared on a teal-green tent roof of an “Ice Cream Crystals” stand. Docile slid with his staff and almost knocked over cups at a “Holy Grail Drinks” stand. A nearby blaster game was titled “Save The Soul” and showed a moon and cardboard demons with xs over their eyes surrounding a human.

Five giggling elves with cameras peered out from an alleyway at Azrael, itching to take selfies with him. Docile slid along the floor, then glared at the elves, causing them to scatter away. There was a game where one could toss balls into halos and a ring toss.

0 0 0

Meanwhile, Tirred and Timmid walked along a line of booths, one read “Muppet” and one read “Knock a Bottle.” Timmid suddenly flinched and pulled Tirred toward another vendor. An elf wearing a yellow hat and a red shirt spotted them.

“Hello, hello!” he called. “Step right up and win a thing!”

Timmid’s eyes shone in happiness as she gasped and pointed upwards. “Oh, look Tirred! A thing!”

The “thing” was a purple stuffed animal wearing pink overalls with elf ears. It had a yellow beak, and a cross on it and a tag with “Thing?” on it.

Tirred looked at her with a small smile. “Oh, you like that thing?”

“Yes, I guess. Please win me that thing.”

“My pleasure.”

He walked up to the vendor, took out some money and handed it to the carnie. “Okay! One game, please!”

The carnie smiled and handed Tirred a trumpet shaped blaster. It was one of the few older games in the park. Tirred pulled the trigger and the cork projectile missed the cardboard blueberries in praying positions.

“Nice try, little man,” said the carnie.

“I’ll try again,” he said.

Tirred tried again and missed. “The Hell’s name is wrong with this thing?” He tried again and again and missed each time.

“Let me try!” Timmid said, taking the blaster from Tirred. She fired it and the cork hit a blueberry. Timmid clapped her hands. “Nice shot, miss,” said the carnie. He handed her the plushie.

0 0 0

Meanwhile, Quartet pulled Azrael close with a gasp, letting go of her balloon.

“Look, Daddy! There’s the Bio Rizz show!”

Quartet mentioned to a large circus tent with promotional signs of Bio Rizz on either side. She thought back to when she was a young child, and Bio Rizz allowed her to go on stage and sing for the crowd. He even gave her a lollipop at the end.

Docile and Quartet said at the same time, “I love that smart jester!”

Meanwhile, Azrael flinched as he was surrounded by elf fans taking pictures of him. One of them stroked his wings.

“Docile, I need my bodyguard please!”

Docile rushed over. “Break it up guys! He’s busy!” The elves groaned in disappointment before wandering off.

Quartet led her father to the stands where they sat and watched the show.

0 0 0

Two spotlights merged into one on the stage and the robotic Bio Rizz flapped open the curtains. He wore a jester outfit, and his ears were covered with stripped cloth and little bells hung from the ends. A happy face and sad face pin were by his shoulders along with a string of lights as a necklace. His pants were striped, and he wore gloves. His shirt had small purple hearts near the bottom and his eyes glowed blue.

Six lit up arrow signs pointed to him and read: “Bio Rizz,” “Property of Gabriel,” “Look at him go!” “Yes! Love 2 c it!” “Wow!” “He.”

Bio Rizz held up a sign with “Woo-Hoo” on it. He also briefly held out a blue and silver contract signed by Gabriel: “This is a statement regarding the unfair accusations that my theme park “Woo-Hoo Land” is trying to surpass my brother Michael’s park Woo-Hoo World and Hell’s Loo-Loo Land. This is false. These allegations are baseless and untrue. Michael and I have already discussed the matter and he has agreed to let me have this theme park and for me let him have his. He may have had the first one, but has he made it truly original? Nope. We are all friends here. Signed Gabriel.”

“Hey… elflings!” Bio Rizz trilled in a robotic voice. He looked at a notecard in his hands. “It’s me, the Biological Rizz! Bio Fizz or Rizzafolli, either name works! Hailed from Gabriel’s place to bring you a wonderful show celebrating Woo-Hoo Land and life! Hit it!”

Rows of spotlights lit up and he began to sing. The curtains opened and a singing elf choir holding candles appeared on stage. Real life animals covered with eyes played instruments: a dove played a trumpet, a lion played a guitar and a bull played a bass instrument. An eagle laughed as he played the drums. The lit-up sign above read “Rizzafolli and Friends.”

“Woo-Hoo Land! Woo-Hoo Land!

Everybody sing along with the Woo-Hoo band!

Every boy, every girl, every woman, every man loves Woo-Hoo Land!”

When the show ended, with Bio Rizz/Rizzafolli and Docile posing together with fireworks on stage, Quartet clapped joyfully. Bio Rizz/Rizzafolli tried not to look nervous.

Behind Azrael, an elf armed with a camera rose from beneath the seats. Docile glared at him and he ducked under the seat.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Azrael said, turning to leave.

“Dad, wait!” Quartet called, her face falling as she hurried after him.

“It’s so great seeing you again, Docile,” said Bio Rizz/Rizzafolli, smiling. “I missed you and your sister when you performed here. Your jokes were amazing.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Docile said. “You haven’t changed a bit…literally. I found my calling at E.L.F. but I’ll have to come back and visit.”

“Please do,” Bio Rizz/Rizzafolli said. “I love entertaining kids, but I never forget the completely biological friends I’ve made.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” asked Docile.

“According to my records, I was born a stillborn elf in Heaven. My parents prayed to Gabriel to bring me to life. He brought me back, but I had problems with my limbs and voice and my mind wasn’t the same. With Heaven demanding perfection, Gabriel decided to update me in his lab, fixing my limbs and brain with wires and cybernetic parts. Thanks to him, I now have a unique status as an A.I./cyborg in Heaven, who can live a decent life. Gabriel is brilliant with communication technology, travel, and so many things. My parents thought I could do well at the circus, so I embraced my new role. If Heaven can be accepting of robots and different species and even those with disabilities, why can’t they accept sinners?”

Docile pondered long and hard, his face darkening. “I guess Heaven is more similar to the racist, discriminatory human population than many want to admit. I have yet to see humanity embrace people of different genders and races let alone abilities, species, and robots.”

“Wait…your friend is a robot?” asked Quartet.

Docile shrugged. “Long time ago when I was younger and before E.L.F. and choir and really making any friends. It’s hard to socialize when your father has high expectations of you.”

“Tell me about it.”

The two of them went their separate ways.

0 0 0

“Dad, what’s wrong?” asked Quartet in a more secluded area five minutes later. They sat next to each other on a bench, looking at the blinking lights on the rides. The sun had begun to set, turning the sky a golden yellow. 

They sat in several moments of silence. A stray tear escaped from Azrael’s eyes.

“It’s just…” he began. “I feel like I haven’t been the best father. I guess it makes sense; I’m not your real father.”

Quartet stared downcast. “No offence, but some part of that is true. You’re always so gloomy and your head is stuck in your job most of the time. I’d say that Mom puts more effort into spending time with me. And yes, I have some qualities from my real father, even though I’ve never met him. I sometimes wish he hadn’t abandoned me.”

“I know.”

“Is there anything you’re afraid of?”

After a long silence, Azrael sighed, wrapping a black feathery wing around his daughter. “I’m scared of losing you. It’s been my biggest fear since you were little. Are you gonna go off somewhere else and leave me behind? A place less death-like?”

“Eventually for a little bit,” she said, tears in her eyes. “But I’d never dream of leaving you behind entirely. You’re my dad and I love you so much. And I do understand that both of us are very different. I suppose what I’m saying is…don’t let the deaths of others get you down. You need to enjoy the good things in the present moment.”

Azrael sighed. “You’re right, Seadrop. You’re so right. Being an angel of death makes it hard sometimes to appreciate the life in front of me. I promise…I will never abandon you. I…do need some advice though.”

“Thankfully, I can help you get started.” Quartet said. “In fact, I’ve had lots of fun here, but I suppose you want some peace and quiet.”

“A darker place would be appealing,” Azrael smiled. He picked her up like she was a kid again and Quartet smiled. “Let’s go home.”

Later, Bio Rizz/Rizzafolli happily rode the pink horse through the park as everyone cheered.

Docile, Timmid, and Tirred talked about the adventures they shared as the sun set. Azrael carried a happy Quartet out of the park.

“Can we go to ‘Animals Inc.?’” asked Quartet. “They sell pet food and anti-taxidermy flyers there.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“You’re alright sometimes, dad.”

“Thank you, Tet. Thank you.”

Timmid flinched as she saw a white cat rubbing against her legs. She then leaned down and smiled. “Hello there, Feeuq. Valentine treating you well?” The cat meowed in affirmation.

[indragonsaur]

Demontober 2023 Day 15: Count Ipos

Ipos is the 22nd Spirit of the Ars Goetia, an Earl and powerful Prince of Hell, who has thirty-six legions of demons under his command.

Ipos is both an Earl and a Prince among his peers. He can make the most shy person confident, witty, and bold. His services are highly sought after by those aware of the impact of his powers. He makes boring people interesting and the average-minded seem like intellectuals.

Those who wish to summon Ipos should burn dark blue candles and sandalwood in the summoning circle. The mystic scholar who codified the modern forms of binding, who was so obsessed with studying Vestiges that he became one himself.

He is commonly depicted with the body of an angel with the head of a lion, the tail of a hare, and the feet of a goose, less frequently in the same shape but with the body of a lion, and rarely as a vulture. His attire normally consists of regal clothing from the 1500s or 1600s.

Ipos was once one of the angels who joined the Archangel Lucifer in his rebellion during the War in Heaven, and was cast down to Hell alongside all other rebel-angels. He was present at Pandemonium during Lucifer's Rally, officially declaring himself as an enemy of God forever.

Due to his loyalty, he became a Count/Prince amongst the Goetia; 72 elite demons who control various regions and aspects of Hell. After his inauguration of being a Count/Prince, he was given thirty-six legions of demons to command. At some point in time, he encountered Guy Fawkes and "gave him a little inspiration".

[regalfairytaleacademy]

Biographical Information

Name: Charisse Locks

Japanese: チャリスロック (Charisurokku)

Quote: "There are so many mysterious around the world. Wonder if there's anything I didn't know"

Gender: Female

Age: 16 y.o

Birthday: August 19th

Star Sign: Leo

Height: 175 cm

Race: Half demon, half angel

Species: Nephalem

Eyes color: Apple Red

Hair color: Dark Brown

Homeland: Renaissance City (the first country in Melodie Kingdom)

Family:

Lucifer (Father / Creator)

Simeon (Second Father / Creator)

Lumiere Locks (Younger brother)

Mammon, Leviathan, Satan Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphgor, Luke, Solomon, Diavolo and Barbatos (uncles)

Renee Sofia Petunia Rosa, Flora Astrid Marigold Kitty, Stefano Flynn Flameo Beau, Callum & Meribella Jewel (Related cousins)

Millicent Paradis & Luna Angelique (Ex-cousins)

Augustine Liddell Scott, Cosmina Featherbed, Coralia Marina & Harry (Adoptive cousins)

Barbara, Teresa and Theodore Jade (Adoptive sworn cousins)

Nicknames / Aliases:

Cherry (by her family and friends)

Cousin Cherry (by her cousins)

Fair lady (by some men who fell in love of her)

Dame de Ruby (by Rook; means "Lady of Ruby" due to her red eyes likes ruby)

Angelfish (by Floyd; because of her red eyes)

Others:

Sadism lady (by the rumors; due to her scary punishments to them if being annoyed)

School Facts and Fun Facts

Dorm: Nymfevilla

School Year: 1st

Class: 1-C | Student no.9

Occupation: Student

School Prefect

Café maid (part-time)

Novelist

Pianist

Guitarist

Best Subject: History Magic | Magiphilosophy | Fencing

Worst Subject: Machinery | Marathon run

Club: Music Club

Dominant Hand: Both (sometimes left-handed)

Favourite Colours: Ruby Red, Sapphire Blue and Cyan

Favourite food: Apple dishes (caramel poisoned apples) | Tea (lemon tea, herbal tea & milk tea)

Least favorite: Spicy foods and Chili

Likes: Her family, music, classical, pop rock, fairytales, gothic, musical theatre, living in commoner's life, novels, reality shows, fun games, warmth of her loved ones, books with strong characters and happy endings, peace, simple things

Dislikes: Metal music, family issues, being annoyed, thieves, pickpockets, tough trainings, living in luxurious life, considered as princess, being disrespected, her friends mistreated, smelly things, being alone, losing her loved ones, boredoms, lonely, her watches stopped, being pranked, her fathers' broke up, stepfamily, lies, cheaters, considered as an outcast, ruining hers and family's image

Hobbies: Listening her favourite music, singing, dancing, baking, chatting with her relatives and friends, doing house chores, feeding animals, visiting music theatre, drawing

Talents: Unlocking and locking the object, animal linguistics, dancing, vocalizing skills, leadership, cooking, drawing, modeling, spell summoning, break the curse herself for second, flight

Idol Stat

Performance: Her voice is considered divine due to her soft and deep voice. She always sings with all her touching yet sympathetic emotions.

Choreography: In addition to her vocal talents, Charisse is a skilled dancer and quick learner who can only do well in ballroom dance and freestyle.

Shimmering Wings: Gothic • Cool • Classical

Idol Brand

Demonic Star

This idol brand is the reminiscent of the most beautiful angel who once fallen from grace and became a prideful demon. Its outfits and accessories has apple and peacock feather motifs with a pair of dark angel's wings and devil's horn. Some outfits also have their own unique black and red masks.

Shimmery Wings: Gothic • Cool

Heavenly Emerald

This idol brand represents the archangel's hope of reuniting with the demon who was once an angel. Some aesthetics in clothing and accessories are dark and gothic, while others are bright and regal. This brand has a pair of angel wings in different sizes and shapes. The clothing has emeralds and sapphires on for the decorations.

Shimmery Wings: Gothic • Classical

Etymology

Charisse is primarily a female name of French origin that means "Grace, Beauty, Kindness."

Her surname, "Locks" is referred to her character inspired, Lockette, but also named after to her two creators' fake name, "Carlos & Christopher Locks" as well as reflected on their past.

Characters Inspired

Charisse was inspired by

Lockette (Winx Club / Pop Pixies)

Charlie Morningstar (Hazbin Hotel)

Mirabel Madrigal (Disney's Encanto)

[handgiven]

███████, the messenger, the follower, the voice.

███████ was created as a lesser messenger. Their job was to carry words that were not their own, or very interesting for that matter. In fact, for a long time they were all they could speak, as not to give space to any sort of interpretaton. They were a part of the same garrison as Anane who’d treated them kindly in spite of their rough exterior. That was why when Anane decided to change sides, ███████ followed. They would rather repeat the words of one who respected them than be overtaken by God or his mighty archangels ever again.

At first, the rebellion had its perks. Such as talking to Lucifer, Kesabel, and others that had a stirring of creativity and free will in their core. For the first time ███████ was forming their own words and opinions, much shaped however by their gratitude and newfound loyalty to this side of the War. It did not all go according to their hopes, however. The War was bloody, both sides losing important beloved angels left and right and as it went on, ███████ grew to understand the danger of losing even Anane as they threw themself into the frontline any given chance.

That was why, upon observing Michael with his sword, mere seconds after having felt a strange pain in their heart, closing in on Anane that had rested, defeated upon the ground, they were fast to interfere. Throwing themself right between the two, they managed to shield Anane but got their wing sliced off in the process. In a way, it aided their escape, because upon losing a wing, the angel lost balance and fell from grace at last, pulling Anane with him. Had he not lost his wing, he doesn’t know if they could have escaped quite fast enough from Michael’s wrath.

It was not just the wing he lost. Having lost it to Michael’s sword he’d lost semblance of who he once was, his name, all that connected him to Heaven once. He took on the name Antonius, Anton, Antoine, in many varieties throughout the centuries. He became an upstanding resident of the Earth, with only Anane’s presence reminding him of what he once was. He tries to stay out of supernatural problems, he tries to work a dayjob and move around frequently enough to go unnoticed by the humans as one who barely ages. He writes poetry, now, which might just be his favourite part of this whole ordeal. Not only are his words his now, he rules them with a gentle touch, and may gift them to others if he chooses, no sooner.

the caretaker, the poet, the healing