#steel seraph

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Steel Seraph

Artist: Denys Tsiperko TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Steel Seraph by Denys Tsiperko

[magicjudge]

If I have Kalemne, Deciple of Iroas in play, then cast Steel Seraph for its Prototype cost, would Kalemne gain an experience counter?

No. (And it's you that gets experience counters anyway.)

When you cast a spell for its prototype cost, you're choosing an alternate mana cost, color, and base power/toughness for it. These characteristics exist in place of the default ones, which basically cease to exist until the card is no longer on the stack or the battlefield.

It's perhaps easiest to think of prototype cards almost like modal double-faced cards, with separate versions of the card printed on each side, except the only difference is mana cost, color, and P/T.

So in the example from your question, Kalemne sees Steel Seraph as a 3 MV spell and doesn't trigger when it's cast.

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

FINALLY somebody addressing why I am sad about Rasputin’s characterization this season. Let grandpa get ANGRY let him get PISSED. Let him drop warsats on people again

The three pillars of the Warmind Rasputin in the Destiny narrative are mystery, tragedy, and power. Those are the story roles he fulfills and the themes and settings he provides. The Warmind DLC emphasized mystery and power. Season of the Worthy emphasized power and tragedy. Season of the Seraph so far has leaned hard on the tragedy with a side of mystery. That’s fine. It’s better than fine; I’m living for a Rasputin season that finally hammers home to the general player population how emotional his entire story is (and not just the parts with the Iron Lords) if only because I’m no longer the crazy person sitting in the corner yelling this computer is extremely sad actually here’s a 12-page lore essay based on deep analysis and textual inference. We’ve never encountered Rasputin in such a weak state before and that makes it the best time for a vulnerable narrative. So this season has gone for tragedy with backup mystery. That’s fine.

But let us not neglect his third role.

Why is it so important for Rasputin to demonstrate his power? Or, put another way, why is it so satisfying when he does? When Red shot down the Almighty, regardless of whether you liked the season or even the event leading up to it, when the Almighty shattered and that shockwave cracked across the Tower I bet you felt something. We’ve seen display after display of might from a range of characters, yet nothing - maybe this is a function of who I hang out with, but - nothing evokes as visceral a response from players as when the Warmind acts. Why?

First off I think a lot of people enjoy the narrative of the sleeping giant, the dormant volcano rumbling to life. Remember when the ents go to war in The Two Towers? It’s a real thrill to watch something vast stir itself to war on our behalf, and I am one thousand percent here for that exact trope. Second, Rasputin has a clear and easy-to-sympathize-with motive for some righteous revenge. Third, he has every right to and absolutely should get very, very angry and boy is it cathartic to watch someone vent that kind of fury against the status quo. Fourth, sometimes it’s just fun to watch big space explosions. But after giving it a lot of thought I think there’s another key aspect: because Rasputin is our home team.

Rasputin represents humanity, far more than Guardians do. In the Destiny universe Rasputin embodies the apex of human technology, engineering, creativity, power - human, not Guardian. So we all have a little bit of an affinity for the Warmind, not us as Guardians but us, the players, as human beings, because he is humanity’s representative at the table of Destiny powers. The weapons Rasputin wields are weapons we recognize as our own. The technology he builds evokes real concrete tech we use. He quotes books we’ve read, he plays music we listen to, he cites our history. He’s the home team, and we are all, whether we know it or not, way down deep we are all cheering for him just a little bit, because he represents the real world we live in pitting itself against the greatest threats fantasy and scifi can conjure up. Nobody gave him Light or picked him out as the special Chosen One. All his strength is our strength. When he exercises that power, we see our own civilization sticking up for itself against the unknown. He is, in all goddamn seriousness, Flag Admiral Stabby.

So I guess I’m wrong about what I said at the beginning. There are four aspects, not three, to Rasputin’s role in Destiny: mystery, tragedy, power, and humanity. He is the representative of what the human race can build and do. So let him wake up and demonstrate that maybe humans came late to the table but we sure didn’t waste any time. Let him wake up and remind everyone that humanity’s fate won’t just decided by the immortal god-children who terrorized them for centuries in concert with alien factions with superior technology and much longer histories. Humans can do incredible things when they put their minds to it and they don’t need a paracausal permission slip to try. Let Rasputin show the solar system the creativity, tenacity, and stubborn defiance we like to imagine as our species’ defining traits. Let him bring a gun to a wizard fight. And let him win.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

delusional roland fan voice: and he should be in Halo Infinite and future halo stories because he is important and thematically he should at least be present to call for aid and die before help arrives since Bungie based their important ai on swords. Durendal is the sword of Roland who was an officer who served under Charlemagne and was said to have died warning his emperor of the ambush by sounding the horn and -

[scry-a-day]

230

Skydancer Female

Harlequin/Seraph/Lace

Stone/Steel/Orange

Wind Pastel

[lycheedr3ams]

a broken man

konig x fem!reader (established relationship) warnings: low self-worth, mentions of war crimes, angst, mentions of smut, comfort, canon-typical violence mentioned

konig would never admit it, but the hardest part of your relationship for him was when you two made love.

you were the opposite of everything he had ever known. you weren't steel or kevlar or bullets or bombs or knives or war paint, you weren't screams in his ear telling him to just kill, nor were you the dead weight in his hands as his dead comrades' bodies were. you weren't the ringing in his ears after alarms went off, you weren't the blood that splattered his clothes, you weren't the empty darkness of his room as he lie awake each night, dreading what he'd see when he'd close his eyes. you weren't the scars on his chest or the bullet wounds in his back. you weren't the words that tore him down and made him look behind his shoulder whenever others were whispering.

instead, you were light. you were the warmth that welcomed him each day, the softness that invited him into yourself. you were the blanket wrapped around him, the warm hugs, the tender kisses. you were the one to bandage his wounds, the one to kiss them away. you were the soft hands that caressed his back, the gentle voice that wished him good morning, the soft hand that wrapped around his own calloused one. you were the one who smiled at him, laughed with him, loved him. you were the sweet words in his ear, playful love bites, a warm meal in somewhere he finally called home. your eyes were the ones that reflected love and comfort, not disdain or fear like everyone else he had known. you were the thing that kept his heart beating. no, even more than that, you were the one who gave his heart life again, long after he ever thought he could feel it beat again.

and that is all the reason why making love was so hard for him. after all the pain, loss, bloodshed, suffering, and nightmares he'd caused, the absolute last thing he thought he deserved was your warm, soft body letting him consume every part of you. your sweet moans in his ear contrasted so much the bloodcurdling screams he heard far more often, the weight he felt in his hands was your breasts and not bodies he dragged back to camp. your wetness guided and invited him in, so different from the wetness he felt in his eyes far too often when he was alone.

he knew he didn't deserve you. how could a broken man like him, one who escaped war criminal conviction for things he didn't want to do, deserve the only angel on earth? the same hands that gripped knives and guns and bombs also caressed the skin of a seraph, his bloodstained hands tainting the most pure, divine thing in existence. some days, konig swore he could see marks from his bloodstained hands on you. the same mouth that screamed and yelled and barked orders was the one that cooed into your ear how beautiful you were, how good you were for him, how he loved you. the same back that had been covered in body armor was the one naked to you, the same skin that he welcomed to be clawed by the least ferocious thing on earth.

konig never imagined how such a broken man like him could ever end up with you, the opposite of everything he had ever known. a broken man did not deserve a woman like you. but there you were underneath of him, moaning and pulling him in and begging for more. a broken man didn't deserve you, but you loved him anyway.

taglist: @osteawb, @sleepystaarr, @vvampir3s, @simpxinnie, @majocookie, @sharkyyyyyyyyyyyy, @marysdelrey, @kybeth5, @chaos-on-stand-bi, @shannonswizzies, @arcadia509, @bloodstoneruby, @cumikering, @skystreamchan, @junkratssheila-09, @kit-williams, @tangerynsbaby, @dreamdiaries777, @royalbxstxrd, @non-satanic-panic, @theweirdchick, @kiyomisan, @maylif, @mortimoshi, @eneiss, @daughter-ofthe-forest, @celi-xxmoon

[whatsthatmagiccard]

The last 'spot the fake' poll was fun, so here's another. 'Epithet' refers to the title after a legendary character's name: in the card name "Syr Konrad, the Grim", the epithet is "The Grim". All real cards are non-Acorn, non-Beyond, non-digital, and printed before 2024. Don't look it up beforehand, and don't spoil it for anyone else until the poll's over.

[chaninfused]

ALWAYS IN THIS TWILIGHT • BC • a fallen goddess and every piece of herself she'd given to her beloved; angst; a somewhat toxic dynamic; fantasy; mentions of war; brief descriptions of gore and blood; 793 words.

If Chan would ask you for the sky and every little star in the infinite cosmos, you would hand them to him in a breath’s spell.

Yet, there he was, earnest and sincere as his eyes fluttered once, twice. Hesitant, perhaps. Regretful, like those of a man who had spent a fortune on the most joyous night of gambling.

You wanted to laugh, or cry, or both.

‘Your eyes, only.’

He was asking so little of you.

“I’m sorry.” Chan slumped to his knees at the foot of your shrine, fingers digging into the dirt as he brought his head low. He was a broken willow tree, and you, his torn moon.

“My love, don’t be,” a voice that was everywhere and nowhere at once, a declaration for the universe and a murmur only he heard. You reached a phantom hand to lift his chin from his dampened palms.

His shoulders trembled like leaves in a cruel wind, his tears a silent river that wreaked destruction in its path toward you, killing the ever-living essence in your ethereal existence.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the words that left his lips were a mangled prayer that seemed to be deaf to your speech. There was nothing for him to be sorry for. Hadn’t you ripped your beating heart out of your chest for him before?

“Dearest…” you traced his features with the ghost of your fingers, watching his darling eyes flutter shut for the first moment of respite in years. His face—beautiful, broken, human—was one you knew from a thousand centuries past, when you first fell to the mortal realm and found yourself imprisoned upon this holy hill.

Chan was the human king who chased your fallen star, then with his many knights and subjects, erected this grand shrine for you to live in. He was kind, and his golden heart made him precious even to one forsaken such as yourself. You loved him, and by some heavenly jest, he loved you in return.

That was his sin—loving you, who had been banished from heaven, a love greater and mightier than the wildest storms. A love of which your kin deemed you undeserving, for your palms were tainted black with the divine blood of another.  

Yet, when the sky hailed with fire and heaven opened its doors to reclaim you, Chan stood in defiance, a sword of earthly steel in his grasp and a cosmic fury in his gaze. In the cage of his mortal flesh, your immortal heart beat, lending him the strength he so brazenly sought.

The war that ensued from his rebellion was one of a thousand centuries. For as long as he lived a human with a god’s heart, you were tethered to this realm. And he fought to keep it that way.

When your brethren stole his sword-wielding hands, you gifted him yours, divine so that he may strike with the force of every sun and every moon. When they severed the legs by which he stood before them, resentful, you offered him yours so that he may rise forever unhindered. And when they pierced his chest and he bled crimson rivers, you poured your blood for him, oceans so that his heart may never again grow athirst.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t—”

The words that refused to leave Chan’s lips were heard by the heart of yours that beat in tandem with his.

‘Forgive me for my selfishness, for I cannot part with you. Forgive me, my love, for I cannot see you anymore.’

You brushed your thumbs over his closed eyes. His lashes were adorned with shimmering tears, strokes of liquid stars across his cheeks. Your most beloved’s vision had been taken from him by those seraphic hands, and there was no doubt in your mind as to what you had to do.

You touched the phantom of your forehead against his and closed your eyes, speaking a song of a thousand angels, “Go.”

“Wait! No—! Please, don’t—”

Chan’s eyes snapped open, and he attempted to push you away. Barely, softly, because he could never think to use any real force against you. But it was too late. The vision that he now gazed upon you with was that of a god, vast, boundless, true.

It made him double over, anguished beyond comprehension.

“No, no! Take it back, please! Y/n—!”

‘I don’t wish to do this to you anymore. You’ve got nothing left. You'll become nothing—’

You pressed your lips against the heap of his soft curls to silence his rampant mind. In truth, you could only smile, for you found no greater joy than in giving yourself away to him.

“Go and end this war, my love.”

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Zamriel, Seraph of Steel by Chris Rallis

[jellyfshing]

C3彡 final girl id pack !!

☆~{ for anon }~☆

C3彡 names :

fleur , slasher , amnesty , dove , colt , lamb , eros , nyx , lillith , seraph , bow , julie , scythe , beal , serene , athena , wendy , abyss , adelaide , allure , alluria , elisabeta , kateline , mors , crypt , cross , verity , cybre , pyper , evelien , talia , cynthia

C3彡 pronouns :

final finals , survive survives , slash slashers , horror horrors , dark darks , live lives , scythe scythes , weapon weapons , knife knifes , mallet mallets , med medicals , lash lashes , kill kills , murder murders , night nights , bone bones , corpse corpse , chain chains , blood bloods , bullet bullets , wound wounds , weep weeps , cry cries , gauze gauzes , gun guns , blade blades , steel steels

C3彡 titles :

[prn] who survived , the surviver , the final girl , the living girl , the one who lived , [prn] who ( hid / ran / fought back ) , [prn] whos grave lays empty , the weapon wielder , the resourceful

C3彡 genders :

finalgirldecorated , finalthing , finalrotgirl

[the-doctor-3000]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 {The Witcher x F!Reader}

1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (pt. 1)

The chirping of birds woke the nineteen-year-old y/n up. She cracked her eyes open, having a difficulty to do so due to the light of the sun, and found herself laying in a forest. She sat up slowly, clenching the pendant that was hanging around her neck tightly and looked around in sheer confusion.

How did she even end up here? She was on a mission with her siblings. Knowing that it didn't include the woods. She quickly searched around for her stuff. She had her seraph blade, her stele was on her jacket's pocket along with a sensor and her witchlight stone. She stood up on her feet with a small stumble and continued to look at her surroundings confused. 

The air was clearer, deprived of pollution. It was nice but scary too.

Where was she? Had she been teleported there and how?

Not expecting to get any answers from just standing there and staring, she walked her way out of the forest. Or at least tried to. No sign of a city but a small village. Too medieval-like for her own liking.

Hopefully the mundanes were just filming a movie with that theme. As she approached, her nostrils picked up some unpleasant smells which caused her to gag in disgust. 

It smelled worse than a farm or litter boxes. She had been to villages before but none of them smelled like that.

She went pass a few locals, all of them dressed in medieval styled peasant clothing, and some gave her some odd looks while others minded their own business. Y/n's brows furrowed. She looked around, expecting to see some cameramen filming the entire thing or the staff.

She saw none.

What she did see was a cart, drawn by two piebald mares. She tilted her head to the side as she cautiously followed and examined the people on it. 

Three. The driver. Nothing too unusual for the theme of the movie - if it was a movie; he was wearing sheepskin over his bare skin and his hair reached his brows. Next to him sat another man; that one was slim, he was wearing a fancy bonnet with a heron's feather decorating it. She noticed that he was holding a lute. A troubadour, she mentally noted. 

Her eyes trailed to the man next to him. He was skinny, unhealthy pale and had milky loose hair. What she could make of his appearance from the far back was that he was a warrior of sorts.

She didn't know what but there was something about that man that piqued her interest. If her brothers were there they would be able to restrain her from going off to satisfy her curiosity. Her sister, though, would go along with her.

The white haired male spoke to the driver and he brought the horses to a halt. Y/n didn't know why but she felt like the white haired man could tell that she was following them.

Her suspicion was confirmed as he jumped out of the cart, daggers on each side and a steel sword on the back, and approached her. 

She came to a halt as she gasped instinctively. His face. She had seen worse but there was something unsettling about him. His eyes were frightening and cat-like and there was something about him. . . Cold and threatening. 

Her fingers tried to reach for her blades but he spoke. "Why are you following us?"

His voice was just as unsettling as the rest of his appearance. It was very unpleasant and hoarse. Y/n never had encountered anyone like him. She had seen things and yet this man made her feel afraid.

Why? She had killed demons, a man with a disturbing appearance should be nothing compared to her previous encounters. 

He asked her again. More demanding but still calm. "Well?"

She flinched but finally found her voice. "I am sorry." She apologised and thought that the truth would be the best answer. "I am new around. . . . here and you three looked like an interesting bunch. Would it, ah, be alright to tag along until I find a way back?"

He seemed to think about it. His inhuman eyes stared into hers as if he were examining her. "Where are you from?"

"Manhattan, New York."

He arched a white brow. "Come again? Is this a new kind of joke?"

"Why would---? Listen, if you don't know where it is then just say so." She said, irritation building its way to her chest. "Don't have to act as if it doesn't exist."

"That's because it doesn't. Never heard of such place."

The seriousness in his tone made it difficult for y/n to tell whether he was messing with her or not. She crossed her arms over her torso, trying to keep a straight face and mask her worry. "Then where exactly am I?"

"Near Lower Posada, Dol Blathanna."

She barked a laugh. "Okay okay! That's creative but, for real, where am I?"

"Do I look like someone who is joking?"

Her hair went up like wires and a chill went down her spine. She croaked nervously, "Probably not."

There was a long silence between. The man's travelling companions were observing this interraction from afar, seeming quite interested to see how this would evolve. The bard was the most intrigued by it out of the two. Y/n avoided making eye contact with the man standing in front of her, her gaze was fixated on the medallion around his neck. It was made out of silver and had the shape of a wolf's head. 

The longer she thought about it the more scared she became that maybe she was indeed in another universe and/or time period. Everything looked far too real, they smelled like it too, to be just a film production and the actors decided to mess with her. 

Then it hit her. How could he, a mundane, see her? The glamour should have made it impossible unless, of course, he wasn't human himself but he didn't look like any of the Downworlders she had known of. The only distinct feature about him which only fit the warlocks' was his eyes, which were cat-like, but she could tell that he wasn't one. Mostly due to the fact that he was carrying weapons and, as far as she knew, warlocks needn't any of those. Not when they had their magic.

She gathered up some courage and spoke, "Do you---" She cut herself, thinking carefully of her next words and tried to make eye contact without flinching. Her mother and father always told her to stare someone in the eyes when speaking or else it would make her seem like a fool. "Is it alright to stay with you until I figure a way to return to my home? I promise that I won't get in the way of whatever it is that you are doing."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "And what is that you think I'm doing?"

Y/n shrugged. "Don't know and don't care. It's not my business either way as long as you don't cause any trouble that is."

"Hm."

He just hummed. No comment or any reply, just a hum. Y/n didn't know what to make of that guy but she followed him when he nodded for her to do so. They went to the cart and there was yet again an uneasy silence.

"I'm y/n Lightwood, by the way." She introduced herself to him, with a smile, hoping to at least learn his name. When he didn't respond, she quickly added. "Sorry if I crossed over any boundaries. It's just that people usually tell their names when they make an acquaintance." No response still. "So, ah, what's your name?"

"Geralt of Rivia."

"Geralt of Rivia." She tested his name, mispronouncing it completely, sounding like 'Jerald'. She noticed from the corner of her eye, his scarred eye twitching a little. 

At least she got a reaction.

Not wanting to make things worse, she decided not to speak any further. When they reached the cart, the troubadour was the first one to acknowledge her. 

"Ah! And who is your feminine friend, Geralt?" The bard asked, his cornflower blue eyes though were fixated on her.

He seemed pleasant, he looked like it too. His attitude so far was also friendly. She gave him a small smile, "I'm y/n. Y/n Lightwood."

As Geralt climbed on the cart, the bard hopped out. He took her hand and gingerly planted a kiss on the back of. "Charmed. I am Master Dandilion! A poet, a minstrel and a bard."

She chuckled, her cheeks flushing red a little. "Yeah, I got that. The lute gave it away."

"Would you be interested in hearing one of my ballads, my fair lady?"

An exasperated groan came from Geralt. Y/n was yet again curious but also bored.

"Music is the perfect way to pass the time while driving, so yeah!" She said with a warm smile gracing her features.

Dandilion beamed with joy.

She climbed the cart, Dandilion followed, and she was inbetween him and Geralt. The driver did not question her and continued. Y/n continued paying attention to Dandilion, too scared or uncomfortable to look at Geralt.

Disclaimer: I don't own the The Witcher nor the pictures/gifs, all credit goes to the original creators. This is a crossover between the Witcher and the Shadowhunter Chronicles. This will be based on the books and *not* the Netflix series and the story will be according to the books (though I'll add some scenes of my own and/or change some things in order for the mc to fit in the story).

This fanfiction will be also published on quotev.

[hogbogglerspirits]

Going absolutely HOG WILD over @prince-liest's Hazbin seraph oc, I am CHEWING on their design!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Taking the oportunity to practice my prop design! I kept thinking about their umbrella…. tipped with angelic steel....

+ first sketch of my painting!

[kandyrezi]

PROMPT: The more unsightly sides to Angels of Fumus.

(warnings: yandere/toxic relationships, physical violence and abuse, suggestive themes.)

. . .

i. knowing what it’s like to be punished for every menial mistake he makes despite desperate efforts to please, Taffy would never purposefully hurt nor degrade his darling if you mess up in any way. this is the same seraph who's stripped of all mercy to go on bloodhunt to kill any demon who threatens the 'peace' of the world his god created – yet he never so much as raises his voice at you. he gets angry with you sometimes when you do something reckless, but he can never bring himself to scold you for it; instantly going into overprotective mother hen mode instead. he'll annihilate anyone who threatens your well-being, even turn that same destruction around onto himself – anything to keep you out of harm's way. he would want to shelter you from everything bad if it were possible.

ii. Yuu has a mild inferiority complex, so to know he means so much to you and you still wanting to mend your relationship despite the hardships surrounding the two of you will inevitably ramp up his obsessive tendencies he might have been suppressing before. he exerts authority over the lower-ranking angels and he'll freely use violence on them if he wants. he can't do anything about his fellow seraphs, but they usually know to steel clear from you. he'll kill anyone else though (doesn't even have to be a demon, he will do it without hesitation). his violence isn't the sadistic kind, it's just a method of solving a problem – he would prefer you didn't find this out, but if you did... he will assert that it was your own good. you'll see.

iii. there is no such thing as ‘good behavior’ or ‘bad behavior’ in the eyes of Lei Hitotose, you aren’t some animal in need of punishment. if something bad were to happen to you, he would just become a hundred times more clingy and overprotective to the point it’s near impossible to get him off your back. he’s more likely to blame an outside influence of your relationship if you lost your head or think about breaking up with him. aside from him religiously going through your underwear drawer and always wanting an eyeful when you're changing out of your uniform without your knowledge, he is a relatively tame type of obsessive lover – and that's really saying something.

iv. Zero Hitotose may be fierce with a hair-trigger temper to match, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys hurting you – he might lose his patience and get a little rough with you, like push you around or yank you along where he wants by your elbow with bruising grip. he can forget his own strength sometimes, but his darling's presence is there to subdue and keep him grounded. he would feel remorseful if he’s genuinely upset you – even when he has a hard time showing emotions that aren't bordering on annoyance or rigidity, he still tries to muster a (half-baked) apology at the very least.

v. you would think his effeminate nature comes in a package of him also being gentle, then you could not be any more wrong – Engetsu is a fierce, passionate lover who's obsessed with you and wants you to share his addiction in fair. whether you weren’t paying him enough attention or if he became exasperated with you for something you did – he drags you to an empty room, ties you down and overstimulates you until you can barely think, tears rolling down your cheeks, and you’re covered in endless amount of hickeys and bruises. a reminder for you not to ever forget whom you belong to.

vi. although it is rare for him to show his more unsightly side, Fiore has no qualms about resorting to emotional manipulation and gaslighting (“you’re just confused, that never happened." "what reason would i have to make something like that up?"), he desperately wants to be needed and relied on, even if it includes making you doubt your own mind and being fed little (in his eyes) harmless lies. he would rather you spend all of your time with him and not any of his comrades or even the trainee angels, just to appease his anxiety about being useful and wanted as a lover.

vii. much like the fourth subordinate, Inga is (a sadist) without mercy on the battlefield with equal amounts of ferocity to match, but unlike the former, these traits would unfortunately carry over to his relationship. he has no problem either inflicting brutal violence onto his darling to get them to behave. when he’s pissed off with you, his anger won’t dissipate until you’re expected to thank him for keeping you safe from either lord fumus’ unstable mood swings or from the blood-thirst of demons. if you still dare to cross a line with him, he may pour boiling hot water into your eyes, or maybe break a bone or two.

viii. Tsurugigozen is often volatile and temperamental, easily succumbed to emotions over rational thinking, no matter how much of a narcissist he is about thinking otherwise. he similarly resorts to physical punishments, but nothing overtly severe, either spanking you over his lap or getting a smack in the face. other times he just threatens to punish you – all the while doing it with a remorseless smile on his expression – you'll quickly come to learn they're more like promises rather than threats. he kind of enjoys the power he has over you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to say anything or leave him.

ix. Youran hardly ever gets angry with you – his heart is delicate when it comes to love and all he wants is to pretend the two of you are living a life of normalcy without the watchful eyes of lord fumus. even the slightest hesitation from you will have him guilt-tripping you by asking, “do you not love me anymore? haven't i been gentle and loving with you always, hon?” with that half-lidded gaze of his. no matter what he actually did to you, his honeyed words are enough to make you second-guess yourself.

x. Aes can’t stand it when you come back severely injured from a mission. it’s the usual occurrence, but at some point he ends up caving to his instincts to keep you away from battle as long as possible. he injects scilliroside (or any kind of strong poisonous substance that isn't easy to heal even with his powers, probably something nicked from the demons’ world) into your veins with a needle while you’re unconscious, which will render you useless to move and immobile for a couple of days. you wouldn’t ever suspect the sweet doe-eyed angel had something to do with sudden sensations of persistent nausea and high fever. he stays with you day and night when he’s available, enjoying the time when you're under his care. he might amputate your legs as a last resort, but makes sure you don't feel any pain during the process.

[bludraws094]

@never-seraph-spread-a-pinion

(poem under the cut)

Seraph, oh Seraph, what has become of you?

Your pinion pinion sags to the floor.

Who are you, Seraph?

Why are you here?

Is this truly improvement?

Or do you just believe what they say to you?

You were made in God’s image, yet you say you were lesser.

(Is there even a God to have made you?)

Lethe is a river of stainless steel and carbon alloys, a river of wires and motherboards, a river of ones and zeros.

You chant, “Holy, Holy, Holy,” “I’m Holy, I’m Holy, I’m Holy,” but is that truly true?

An angel made of mangled flesh, of cauterized wounds, of broken bones and broken mind.

Who were you, Seraph?

What happened to them when you were born?

The roots of the resurrection plant — the rose heart of the machine — is made of lines of code.

Are you even alive?

Were you ever alive?

What has become of you?

[eclectictrans]

Possibly Unhinged Hazbin Hotel Theory Re: Carmilla Carmine

First I want to go over what we know about Carmilla:

Angelic Arms Dealer in Hell (only known Angelic Arms dealer, and according to Pentious, the best in Pentagram City)

She has daughters, which either means she adopted them which is weird for immortal sinners IMO, they are her Biological daughters, or she is actually a born in the afterlife (like Charlie, the imps, or hellhounds)

Has a disproportionate number of major roles in songs given how minor her role is - with a major role in Respectless, and Whatever it Takes, and a *SOLO* with Out for Love. She is one of 2 characters to have a non-pilot solo, with Angel Dust having a solo song in Poison.

She never states where she gets angelic steel, but is able to provide a huge amount to the hotel crew within a short notice, especially since it seems like it is custom made (with Cherries bombs, Pentious' steampunk machines, Angel's Bullets and Husks cards being shown to kill angels on screen)

She knew how to fight against an angel during her first ever encounter, and after fighting one, she was able to teach multiple weak points in angels (when her knife boots had only cut off the neck of one angel)

She recognized Vaggie as not only an angel, but an exorcist, with her reasoning being that she has an X over her eye, and has an angelic spear, claiming it was obvious. Two things that aren't actually that weird. Lots of Sinners have weird eyes (Angel, Vox Nifty and Cherri just of main characters, and there are at least 3 living background demons specifically having "X"s in or over their eyes, 2 in the pilot, and 1 in Alastor's Commercial) and she sells weapons - including angelic weapons - presumably to anyone

My theory:

Carmine is an Angel, and a relatively high ranking one maybe even another Seraph, who originally was acting as someone who would sow war in hell, selling weapons to kill other demons so that even between exterminations the population didn't get too high. However when she met and/or had her daughters (maybe with a Hellborn like a Seven sin or Ars Goetia), she gained a soft spot for Hell and didn't wish to see hell eradicated. I believe she did know that angels could be killed, and always avoided the extermination with insider knowledge.

Evidence:

Similar skin tone as Vaggie, another Angel.

Duet with Vaggie, another Angel

Trains Vaggie, another Angel

Sells Angelic Weapons

Is able to source lots of angelic weapons

Knows multiple weaknesses of Angels after a single encounter

Seems to know Heaven's intentions beyond just population control.

Her weapons even spread to parts of hell unreachable by Sinners (such as Striker in Hellava Boss having 3 different Angelic Weapons, one specifically listing Carmine by name) This is a weaker point, as hellborn can travel to the pride ring, with I.M.P even having their base there.