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Reminder that I have the art skills of a small toddler that is just learning what a pencil is and how to hold it. Any art you see on this blog, that I post or share, is not mine and credited to the original artist I either paid or was gifted it with. The lovely people I have had draw the art are absolutely incredible and deserve all the attention and praise for it! Specifically the ones that write with me who have drawn quite a few pieces are @diistortion @alteregozowie and @radioiaci! You can commission all of them for art if you want to: kofi kofi vgen

Now if you want a tree that one would see on the walls of an elementary school, I can draw you that in about 5 minutes.

The credit to all my art while on the pictures themselves is also in my rules.

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Art commissioned from Gemini~

non mutuals do not reblog without permission!

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@voicesunified ⧐

UNPROMPTED ASKS.

It wasn't as though he was not aware. For one, he'd gone through the effort of bringing Michael a snack he knew the other might enjoy - roasting the seeds and presenting them in a way that Michael might appreciate. Presentation was important. Even if he were not finished with the other batch - that was fine. They kept for a while, as long as they were stored properly.

The hole in the wall was not something he couldn't fix. But he hadn't made an attempt to just yet. Not until he had an opportunity to properly determine just what the cause of it had been. Michael had done something - of that, he was sure - but the motivation behind it; the reasoning was all a bit of a mystery. Michael was not entirely free of bouts of melancholy; Alastor had observed it at least a small handful of times. But never to the point of violence that he'd observed.

It was interesting. It was almost human, in a way.

Maybe that was why he did not find fault in it. Maybe because it brought them slightly closer.

His attention, anyway, was pulled to the little plush that Michael seemed to be in possession of. Clearly handmade - he'd always been creative - but Alastor's eyebrows raised when he noted the color scheme to the thing. Clearly visible in a way that things were not normally, and it struck him rather quickly that the former angel had put in a significant amount of thought to ensure that it appeared that way.

The notion struck him somewhere in his core, but he did not outwardly react. Not until Michael was requesting him to try something, and his own curiosity got the better of him, obeying as he placed a hand upon Michael's shoulder to feel the siphoning of power from himself down to the other. It was not something he afforded any of his other contracted Sinners, nor did he believe that it was something anyone other than a former angel might have been able to do: the rending of an inanimate object to something living, even in mimicry. And then the subsequent splitting from light to dark; even more interesting when both remained somewhat mobile.

It was amusing, actually, Alastor's eyes lighting up significantly as the little crane plush wiggled around and danced near to its shadowy counterpart, the latter of which was quickly scooped up by Alastor's shadow to eagerly embrace as its new little toy. While Alastor himself glanced down to the enthused Michael.

How could he say anything other than yes? In fact, the other's prod for validation brought forth something of a soft, rather uncharacteristic laugh from the radio demon. Almost unfiltered entirely as he maintained eye contact. So that he could not be called a liar by any means.

Alastor's magic, on its own, only had so much functionality and life to it. But in combination with Michael's?

Well. There was something special about that.

"It's fantastic."

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpri / sel multifandom & multimuse rp blog. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPenned by INU. 21+, EST.

ㅤㅤㅤ18+. Content warnings for blood, gore, body horror, alcohol & drugs, religious content and blasphemy. DEAD DOVE ; DO NOT EAT.

ㅤㅤㅤThis blog is a collection of all my muses so the fandoms and content will vary. Muses are always subject to change as I add more. This blog does use small text, icons and colored font. If this is a problem (ie; you're hard of seeing / color blind) please come let me know so that I can change my format to better accommodate you. Please give the rules a read before you follow, they're very important and have context to what is on this blog. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMINORS & PERSONAL BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤcarrd. memes. art credit.

ㅤㅤㅤMAINS/EXCLUSIVES

ㅤㅤㅤAffiliated with:  ㅤㅤㅤMichael: @diistortion, @thylightbringer ㅤㅤㅤSheik: @musehiideaway (Zelda), @luzofstars (Link/Sky) ㅤㅤㅤImpa: @musehiideaway (Zelda)

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i can’t interfere ,  that’s very much against the rules . (For Zadkiel)

@brokendreamscreation

   "It's only against the rules if Michael finds out." Zadkiel whispered, tugging on Lucid and trying to get him closer. He had stolen Gabriel's keys. Now, the keys were very much physical keys but they weren't used to unlock a real keyhole. They were merely physical representations of the magic they held. So long as Zadkiel had the keys? He had access to everywhere in Heaven. Other than privates homes and bedrooms obviously. But the golden gates? The secret areas? The White Realm? They could get anywhere with these keys. Even onto Earth if they wanted.

   Gabriel had been rather reckless. He fell asleep at his desk, completely out and defenseless. It took Zadkiel nothing to sneak the keys off of him and then pick up Lucid on his way to use them. He had no intention of sneaking into the Whire Realm. None of the archangels actually wanted to see God. But he did fully intend on using them to sneak into the higher levels of Heaven. Specifically Cloud Nine today.

   Cloud Nine was Zadkiel assumed what would be considered their version of Lucid's job back home?

   For them, it was the place of dreams. On Earth, the mortals have adopted the term to reference a good nights comfortable rest. Laying down on the perfect bed was like laying down on Cloud Nine and they went to sleep soundlessly. In Heaven… it was a bit different. Only certain people are allowed on Cloud Nine because of what it holds. The nightmares and the dreams.

   Heaven is designed to be painless. To be eternal rest where everything was perfect. That includes when the angels go to sleep. They dream good dreams but not always. Because even Heaven isn't completely perfect. Cloud Nine was designed to absorb the nightmares angels have, that they suffer from, and give them good dreams. And yet, it wasn't flawless. Angels could still have nightmares, if the nightmares escaped. Zadkiel didn't know how entirely because he wasn't allowed up there. Managing the dream realm was the responsibility of Raphael. Dreams fell in line with mental health which was managed by the hospital in Heaven.

   Raphael does not like managing this place.

   "I'm not asking you to get involved either. But aren't you curious? Our version of what you did back home is clearly quite different. Cloud Nine is—" Zadkiel hummed and spun the keys on his finger, rocking back and forth on his feet. "A flawed experiment? I mean not entirely. I don't have nightmares. Maybe once in a blue moon. But Michael? He doesn't sleep because of them, so something clearly isn't working. And the stubborn angel won't go to Raphael for help. He says it's none of his business."

   The keys were tossed up in the air and then caught in his hand, Zadkiel grinning over at Lucid who looked like they were about to pass out from stress. "Come on! You love getting into chaos with me. Besides, we rarely get caught." They always get caught. And if Raphael finds out they were up there? Or if they let something out? The Angel of Healing was going to hang them by their toes and yell at them for hours.

   It was absolutely worth the risk though. Zadkiel was so curious. Espeically over what Lucid thought of the way they handled dreams and nightmares in their Heaven.

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"the risk i took was calculated, but man, am i bad at math . . . " (for Uriel)

@brokendreamscreation

   Uriel stood there, hands on his hips, gazing down at Lucid in what was a mix between disbelief and pure amusement. He thinks, honestly, the Seraphim had been given a rather simple mission today. The ducks had escaped from the pond, had wandered down to the first Heaven and were breaking into stores. As they usually did, every so often, causing chaos much like the person who had created them. They stole chips, cookies, crackers, bread, whatever smelled or looked appealing and they could reach on their own. Four babies and two adults. Usually it was Emily, Abel and Zadkiel who ran around collecting them. Zadkiel however was on Earth at the moment and the other two were otherwise preoccupied with whatever Sera wanted. So Michael asked Lucid to collect them.

   It's not hard. The ducks like to play. If they're lured in with a game, they'll easily come. Uriel's collected them before when they caused a mess at the Golden Palace, rounding them up with a game of hide and seek utilizing crackers as a reward. They're cute, harmless, babies despite their ancient age.

   So how, in the name of the Heavenly Father, did Lucid somehow end up looking like a crime scene. Not with blood, the ducks were not violent and couldn't harm them even if they tried. No, he looked like he went fifty rounds with a wild animal in a mud pool after six weeks of being awake and fifteen shots of espresso. There were feathers, leaves, sticks and gum maybe? In his hair. Every single inch of him was covered in mud and something else. He was soaked from head to toe from water on top of that, a result of the pond he was currently laying in. Two of the ducks were on his chest, one of them tugging at his bow tie, another was in his hair eating—pieces of Cloud Fruit and bread? The last one was dead asleep in his hands, having wore themselves out.

   The two adult ducks were casually watching from the sidelines in what looked like disappointment.

   And Uriel still can't fathom how any of this happened.

   The archangel blinked a few times, watched one of the baby ducks start to nod off with the end of Lucid's bow tie in it's mouth. It too had apparently worn itself out and was now calling it quits. Well, at the very least he can say they'll sleep very well for the next decade perhaps. "I don't—even know where to start with my questions." He doubts if he walked to town that anyone would even be able to tell them what happened. This looks like chaos from start to end without a single break in between or a chance to stop the chaos from happening. Even Zadkiel had not ended up like this when he went to gather the ducks up. Only Lucid would somehow figure out how to make the most simple of tasks into something complicated. "You can't keep them though so… out of the pond with you and leave the babies behind."

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^ Will trade any information on his siblings for good gossip.

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Zadkiel is the one who replaced Lucifer's role after he was thrown from Heaven. He works out of the same office Michael does, meaning the Seraphims HQ (the Office of the Seraphims). He is responsible for overseeing the Joybrings, those who are meant to bring happiness and faith to the souls / angels / saints in Heaven. He also oversees the Guardian Angels, those meant to guide and protect the mortals on Earth. He is the archangel worst at doing their paperwork.

Uriel, best known for his role as the Virtue of Chastity, is also the Angel of Truth. No one can lie to him, an ability he is actually rather not fond of. He's typically pulled into disputes, asked to settle them by telling if a person is lying or not. He very much detests being caught in the middle of things like this and will very much avoid being the middle person in anything. During Archangel Meetings if its a court based one he's typically the person asking questions and varifying if the answer is true or not. As the Virtue of Chastity it's not that he hates / destest / is disgusted by sex. He simply believes that self-restraint and moderation is the key. Uriel is nonbinary and responds to any pronounes. He'll wear whatever clothes make him look absolutely fantastic.

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Gonna work on a few asks while I throw Uriel's icons together. Come send us some memes! Or like this post and I'll toss someone in your askbox!

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   "It's a more tame and fun way to get to know someone, and since you're a new someone and I'm a new someone to you this seemed like an ideal game to play." Zadkiel stated, shifting around on the floor rather excitedly. He doesn't get to play with his other siblings, because they all know practically everything about each other. And Zadkiel's other friends, Abel and Emily, wouldn't want to add the alcohol part. Which to him? Was practically the best part of the entire thing. What better way to spend time with each other than if you're a little spicy? Besides, Cloud Fruit Wine was the best. Especially when it was made by Raphael.

   "I have things to counter the alcohol too, for if we start to feel to tipsy or drunk." He turned to the side and pulled a few more things out of the bag, setting down a tray with different kinds of bread, cheese, crackers and of course a dip. Bread was good for absorbing alcohol and if they wanted to call it quits before it became to much, that was the way to go. He was trying to consider the fact that Lucid might have never gotten drunk before, which was going to be one of his first questions. Zadkiel, on the other hand, has. Uriel told him he's apparently a very happy and loopy drunk who wants to run around and cause chaos.

   They'll attempt to avoid that.

   "The way to start is deciding who goes first. Since I'm the oldest, I'll let you take the first leap and ask the first question. It only seems fair." Zadkiel shrugged and pulled the bottle of Cloud Fruit Wine over, finding the corkscrew in his bag so that he could open it. "Do you have Cloud Fruit in your Heaven? It kind of tastes like… if you put a strawberry and a grape in your mouth at the same time. It's sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. It is best chilled or served over ice though. Our Heaven uses it in quite a few deserts around here. Michael will eat it straight though and dehydrated."

Lucid was thrilled when Zadkiel agreed to have a slumber party with him in his room. The space was huge, far more than the blue seraphim needed for himself. Back home he was used to being alone, the archangels kept busy by their Heavenly duties and his own duties as the Angel of Dreams and Illusions. However, after crossing the multiverse to this Heaven, Lucid had become more socialized, working together each day with the other angels. As they helped him to slip into his new and strange circumstances, they treated him as another fellow angel, included him. Thus, wishful thoughts and ideas suddenly seemed possible, such as a slumber party with his new found friend Zadkiel.

Seated crosslegged upon the bed, Lucid smiled brightly down at the Joy Bringer. His nest of blankets and pillows were perfect, and the host all the more eager to share anything in the room with his friend to be as comfy as possible. As they settled in and began to discuss just how to operate a proper slumber party, Zadkiel had piped up about a game that the mortals enjoyed, “Never Have I Ever.” A curious game of announcing things one has or has not experienced along with the consumption of alcohol. Lucid fluttered his wings and nodded vigorously. “So if we refuse, we don’t gotta lie but instead take a drink? Sounds simple enough!”

Making the sign of the cross over himself, Lucid held up his hand in oath. “I promise to not say a word to anyone, especially Michael.” He then flopped belly down onto the bed, the angel flipping his legs up, happily kicking his feet behind him. Propped elbows allowed him to rest his chin upon knuckles, giggling softly. “Alrighty! How do we start?”

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   "Charlie's very childish, very naive idea is that anyone can be redeemed. Is it not?" That was her idea, her ambition if one will. Charlie looked at Sinners and she didn't see what they were or what they did, she saw the future they could have. The future that she wanted for them. Whether they wanted it or not, Michael had noticed. She wanted her dream to succeed and she was very pushy about it. It didn't appear to matter to her what someone elses boundaries were, as long as she got to try and save them.

   It almost sounded like a hero complex.

   It wasn't a bad thing, but it was a flaw and one that she needed to get control over if she wanted things to go right. Not everyone would be able to just look away from those sorts of things and brush them off. Not everyone would be okay with her shoving herself into their space and demanding they do things her way. The thing about rehabilitation and even the Heavenly Virtues? They had to be wanted. Someone had to want to change and be a good person. It's impossible to help a person who doesn't want to help themselves first and that was the thing Charlie didn't see or understand.

   "The problem with you, Alastor. And I say problem from Heaven's perspective not in general or something I see and believe. It's that you don't want to change. At least—from the way you talk. Maybe you do and you don't communicate that, but to me and how you talk you seem very comfortable with who you are. Cannibalistic mass murderer serial killer Overlord. And until you wish to lose all of those titles and change, you can't be redeemed. The problem of your soul aside."

   Turning a bit he set his gaze on the Radio Demon. "Is that cruel of me to say?"

Alastor isn't exactly shocked by the information. It was hardly news that the angels would police their own somehow, though the notion that one could get away with sins in Heaven long enough for them to become a punishable problem was an intriguing one. He wondered just where that extended to, exactly. Was it simply the ANGELS themselves--the Heaven-created--or was it the "Winners" as well?

Or was it only the "Winners"?

Either way, it seemed like a rather significant oversight for a place that touted itself as holy and morally right.

Michael's more directed question was what really caught Alastor's attention, prompting the Radio Demon to pause. His ears twitched, thoughts roiling through his head, seeming to genuinely consider the question for a moment. WOULD he attempt to seek Redemption? Was there even a point in trying? Was there even a chance he could achieve such a thing?

It was certainly doubtful.

"I don't feel it would be a matter of me trying or not trying," he finally said, breaking his silence. "It would be a matter of whether or not Heaven would even allow me in. I'm not exactly sure what the status of my soul is, after all."

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This is what it’s like to be my friend you just get messages like these with no context.

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I have put them on the carrd.

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スマブラSP/SSBU シーク

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The crybaby sunshine.

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@radioiaci "Do you like me?" He is being incredibly silly and yet seeking validation anyway. 🦌🔪

ㅤHe's hanging upside down on the bed, the tips of his hair brushing the floor and a book in his hands. Weirdly enough, the book is also upside down, yet despite that it seemed as if Michael was reading it perfectly fine. His phone was also on the floor, looking as if it had been thrown across the room. There was a hole in Alastor's wall and the screen of the device was cracked. It was greatly unlikely that the device was functional, but that didn't seem to be bothering Michael at all honestly. He flipped a page casually in his book, his gaze running along the words written on it despite the unnaturalness of it all.

ㅤHis head does turn slightly when he hears the bedroom door open, the sound of Alastor's sharp pointed shoes along the wooden floor. The sound stops entirely when he hits the carpet but Michael can still pick up the pause in his steps when he either notices the phone or the hole in his wall. The fallen angel could fix it, but so could the radio demon and his weird unnatural eldritch power. Did that mean he was probably happy about the hole in his wall? No. But he first had to get Michael to admit he did it.

ㅤAnd the shadow won't tattle, they have an agreement.

ㅤHe keeps his metaphorical mouth shut and Michael will make him more friends.

ㅤBribery at it's finest.

ㅤAnother flip of the page, the sound of his phone being picked up and then the slightly increased sound of radio static. He's grown used to the sound actually, finds it rather soothing in the oddest of ways. Even if Alastor wasn't broadcasting, the little radio he gave Michael was still on, playing the white noise in the background before whatever Alastor wanted to listen to was finally clicked on. He doesn't like silence Michael noticed, always seeming to need some sort of sound going. Be it from himself or the environment around him. Michael seemed to be developing the same habits too, finding himself far to aware of things when it's entirely silent.

ㅤNot that he ever liked it in the first place, especially when working. The seraphims used to joke that they could tell his mood based on the type of music that was playing. He thinks there's a bit of that in truth and even for Alastor. If he seemed very upset, the radio static was louder or the music itself was. Sometimes he wondered if Alastor was trying to drown his own thoughts out.

ㅤThose were contemplations for another day though.

ㅤEspecially considering the fact there was red fabric now brushing against his face. The archangel blinked a few times, slowly moved his book and found the torn ends of Alastor's tailcoat brushing against his face. The other hadn't even bothered to pause and take his coat off. "Wherever did you vanish to? Felt like taking a chance at one of Charlie's redemption exercises? I think today is art therapy." He was invited to join, he told her he'd think about it. A little white lie never harmed anyone.

ㅤHe can hear Alastor shift, the sound of his shoes moving against the floor and when he looked back up the Radio Demon was still staring at him. Michael's phone was dangled between two claws, like some sort of poisonous plant that was going to bite him.

ㅤ"Do you like me?"

ㅤHe doesn't laugh, he's quite proud of that. Michael did raise an eyebrow though, blinking up at him almost like wondering if the other had lost his mind. Long day? Something bad happen? Questionable conversations with people? A deal he failed to make? Does he still make deals anymore?

ㅤ"If this is an attempt to get me down into the kitchen to try one of your creations, you're not playing fair." It'll either be made of sinner or so spicy Michael will want to cut his own tongue off. He was so very fond of the roasted seeds that Alastor made him, even if he questions where the Radio Demon was getting seeds in Hell. Another question for a different day when the other wasn't acting strange. "If this is about the hole in the wall—you can't prove I did it and the only witness isn't talking."

ㅤMichael made sure of that.

ㅤShifting a bit he closed the book, tossed it into the air where it vanished and then waved his hand for Alastor to lean down. He waited, and waited, and waited until the other was close enough. Only to sit partly up himself and place a kiss right on the tip of the demon's nose. "And if it's you simply asking, the answer will always be yes. A very excited yes if you deliver more roasted seeds."

[voicesunified]

drabble // serving under Ganondorf; trauma. Content warning: dark themes.

   Sheik’s destiny in the Hero of Time’s journey was broken into a handful of parts. Guiding him to various temples, spying on Ganondorf, and delivering information to Impa and Zelda in hiding. The first part couldn’t be done until the Hero of Time awoke from his seven year slumber, which meant while he slept Sheik needed to get a move on his second part. Spying. 

   The Sheikah tribe were known for being entwined with the Royal Family. For serving them as whatever they needed. This included and was not limited to, being spies, assassins, torturers. Impa had made sure that he knew this because she was quite certain that Ganondorf would use him no differently. That it would be part of what allowed him to get underneath the Evil King and serve him as, more or less, an extension of himself. 

   Sheik left for the Castle a few weeks after Impa had abandoned the place with the Princess and the Hero entered his state of slumber. He thought it was the perfect chance to make a place for himself within the man’s court. The Castle itself was riddled with monsters, crawling out of the walls and lurking in the halls. He used the rafters to sneak around, only needing to remove the occasional keese or spider. 

   When he reached the throne room he swung himself down and slipped through the doors, steadying himself with a deep breath to attempt to calm his racing heart. Terrified was one word to use for how he felt, and it was the only one he was allowing himself to use. If he crumbled now, he’d be no use to anyone, and that included the Hero of Time and his mother and Princess. 

   Humbling himself to a man that was going to bring an entire Kingdom, one he had taken a vow to protect no less, to its knees had been a knife in his pride. No matter how much he tried to tell himself it was just a lie to an evil man, it didn’t seem to help. Even with permission from his mother and Zelda to lie to the man–he detested it. If he thought he could win, he’d slip his blade out and–

   He grabs a fistful of Sheik’s ponytail and yanks the Sheikah’s head back. His bright red gaze connects with the Gerudo’s and he clenches his jaw nearly to the point it hurt. “How old are you, boy?” 

   “Twelve.” He’d be eighteen, nearly nineteen, when the Hero of Time awoke Impa said.

   His hair was released and Sheik dropped his head back down, resisting the urge to drag the braid over his shoulder. Zelda was right, he should have cut it. “Stand.” He takes a moment to pull himself from his thoughts before obeying the order. Slowly, Sheik climbed to his feet and dusted himself off, turning around to face the man. “You want to play like a big boy?” It’s mocking, Sheik doesn’t let it get to him. “Then why don’t we play. The people of Hyrule need to be humbled. Their precious Royal Family found a way to do that to your tribe once before, so why don’t you say we replay history?” 

   He approaches suddenly and Sheik barely keeps himself from flinching. There’s a brief glint, steel reflected in the light, and then a long dagger is dropped into his hands. “Make yourself useful.” 

   It was raining when Sheik reached Castle Town. A soft drabble that wet his hair and slid down the fabric of his suit. Sheik had strapped the blade to his hip and glanced briefly to the side. He had babysitters. Moblins, Bokoblins, and a Wizzro. They were only here if he couldn’t complete the task, Ganondorf had threatened his life would be added to the numbers too. He turned his head back around and dragged his gaze across the main street. 

   A lot of people had taken to hiding in doors. Those that hadn’t quite gotten common sense about them, lingered about. Even a few shops were still open. 

   Careless.

   Impa had told him at one point that he’d probably be asked to do things he didn’t want to do. She had also made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t do those things, his journey would become more difficult. To stay ahead of the Evil King, they needed to know what he was doing, what he was planning. If he got inside the Sacred Realm and got Link or the Triforce, they were all doomed. If he got to the sages before Link did, they were doomed. 

   He reached for the dagger at his hip. 

   The first life he took was a woman. Someone just walking past the fountain in the center of Town. She had screamed, bringing a few more people outside to see what was happening. Sheik tried to turn his mind off, to go somewhere else, to not focus on what he was doing. The feeling of the dagger he was given slipping into their body soaking the bandages on his hands with their blood. 

   The rain began to fall heavier and mixed with the blood, making it run through the streets of Hyrule almost like a slow river, easing into the stone cracks that paved the walkway. He didn’t let himself count, but there treacherous part of his mind that took note of the bodies littering the streets said there were more than a dozen. 

   His guards dragged him back to the Castle when the streets were quiet and dropped him off in front of Ganondorf. He fell rather easily to his knees this time, the braid tumbling over his shoulder, dried with red blotches in places. He swallowed back the bile in his throat, and forced his hands to remain still. 

   Ganondorf laughed. “Who would have thought the Sheikah had it in them. To betray the Royal Family, the people of Hyrule.” He stood from the King’s throne and started walking toward the doors. “Come then, let's see if your people are worth anything. I’ll need help researching this Sacred Realm.”

   To his credit, he didn’t break until he was alone. Until he was safely tucked away inside the Fairy Fountain in the Lost Woods. Quiet, peaceful, he stumbled his way inside not trusting Impa’s house for this moment and again his knees buckled, sending him tumbling down into the cool water of the fairy fountain. He looked to his hands, to his hair, to the ruined bandages and began tugging them all off. 

   The bandages were tossed aside, his hair falling out of the braid. He shook, he felt sick, and it all gathered up into too much. His hands gripped the side of his head as he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed.