Demons - Blog Posts

Burnt out ends of smokey days

holy shit why does every single decent thing I draw have to take 3 days to draw smh- anyways concept art for my own characters Zephyr and Samuel. I don't have their stories fully formed yet because ✨creative block✨ but it's going along ok lol

Combat Magick: The Art Of Mystical Warfare

Combat magick is the practice of using metaphysical and energetic techniques for defense, offense, and strategic advantage in spiritual or psychic conflicts. It blends elements of protection, attack, and counterattack, often drawing upon personal will, energy manipulation, and ritual magick to influence outcomes in battles—whether physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual.

Principles of Combat Magick

• Energetic Warfare – Combat magick works by manipulating energy to shield, attack, or neutralize threats. Practitioners learn to harness their own energy and direct external forces to achieve victory.

• Intent and Willpower – A strong will is essential in combat magick. The practitioner's intent determines whether their spells are defensive, retaliatory, or aggressive.

• Cleverness and Intellect - When it comes right down to it, your mind is the single best weapon in your arsenal. The practitioner should possess a some level of mental prowess before attempting combat magick.

• Ethical Considerations – While some use combat magick for self-defense, others employ it for baneful purposes. Some witches mayfollow guidelines such as the Threefold Law or personal codes of conduct that forbid the use of such workings.

Forms of Combat Magick

Defensive Magick (Shielding & Warding):

• Shielding: Creating energetic barriers around oneself or others to deflect attacks (psychic, emotional, spiritual).

• Warding: Placing protective symbols, sigils, or enchanted objects around spaces to prevent intrusion.

• Cleansing & Banishing: Removing negative influences through smoke cleansing, salt, sound, or sacred words.

Offensive Magick (Curses & Hexes):

• Curses & Hexes: Directing harmful energy toward an opponent to weaken, confuse, deter, or harm them.

• Energy Manipulation: Sending concentrated bursts of energy to disrupt an enemy’s balance.

• Elemental Combat: Calling upon fire, water, air, or earth to aid in magickal attacks.

Counterattacks & Reversal Magick:

• Mirror Spells (Return to Sender): Reflecting an attack back to it's source.

• Unbinding & Curse Breaking: Severing unwanted energetic ties or removing hostile spells.

• Reversal Magick: Redirecting negativity away from oneself and sending it elsewhere.

Tools & Techniques Used in Combat Magick

• Sigils & Symbols – Used for protection, strength, or attack. Examples include Algiz (protection), Mars glyphs (aggression).

• Herbs & Crystals – Protective plants like blackthorn, vervain, or dragon’s blood; stones like obsidian, hematite, or black tourmaline. Baneful components include herbs like datura, calamus, belladonna or Spanish moss and stones like opal, sardonyx, and garnet.

• Blood & Personal Energy – Some warriors of the craft may infuse spells with personal essence or their own blood to strengthen the magick.

• Chanting & Incantations – Words of power can amplify intent and activate spells more effectively.

• Astral Combat – Fighting in the spiritual realm through visualization, dream work, or projection. This can help you catch your target in a vulnerable position and quickly gain the upper hand.

Who Uses Combat Magick?

• Witches & Sorcerers – Those who practice both light and dark magick for protection or justice.

• Psychic Warriors & Energy Workers – Individuals who engage in spiritual defense against negative entities or forces.

• Shamans & Spirit Walkers – Practitioners who deal with hostile spirits or supernatural threats as well as those performing exorcisms.

• Chaos Magicians – Those who employ sigils, servitors, and energy constructs for their warfare.

Combat magick is not for the faint of heart—it requires discipline, mastery of energy work, and deep self-awareness. While it can be a powerful tool for protection and justice, it should always be wielded with wisdom and responsibility. Whether defending against psychic attacks or engaging in mystical battles, combat magick remains an essential part of the spiritual warrior’s arsenal.

He sat upon a hilltop, watching out over the plane of existence he lived in. He was a demon, minor lord of a plane of Hell. Unfortunately, he was melancholic about his life and the position he was in.

His father was Lucifer, the king of fallen angels, and lord of all of Hell. His mother was Lilith, the first human. In this sense, he was closer to humanity than any of his siblings; the only child of the cursed, immortal woman who had never truly fallen – at least not in the sense that man had.

He had dark, curly hair, short horns growing from his forehead, and black, leathery wings. He wore only a simple tunic, with a belt tied at the waist. He needed no shoes, and he was discontent with his lot in life.

For he was a simple creature, in his own way – all he desired in life was to drink and be merry, to spend his existence harming none in his debauchery. But that was not his job – he was the child of Lucifer, the child of blue flame – he was to be a fearsome creature, a servant of darkness – but try as he might, he could never bring himself to harm a soul – even the blackest among the damned were spared his whip, for he was a gentle soul – despite his appearance and heritage.

He sighed deeply, as his brother came up from the other side of the hill. “Iscarbiel,” hailed the demon, “What are you doing?”

The demon, dressed similarly but with a blue skin and red eyes, pointed teeth and large, curling ram’s horns, a longsword strapped to his side, walked up and sat beside him. “Nothing, Jimarciel,” said Iscarbiel.

“Nothing,” said Jimarciel, gnashing his teeth, “Nothing seems to be all you do nowadays!”

Iscarbiel leaned back, onto the scorched black grass of Asphodel. “Leave me be, Jimarciel. You do enough evil for the both of us, is that not true?”

Jimarciel laughed, a haughty, unearthly rattle. “Indeed I do,” he ceded, “But it is not me that father cares about. You are his favorite, and he demands your presence. Good luck, little brother.”

Iscarbiel got up, stretched, and began walking down the hill, towards the blackened hellscape through the fields of the damned, towards the black castle atop a mountain. His ears numb to the screams of the tortured, he flapped his wings once, twice, and was lifted, flying upwards towards the castle in which he lived, and hated with almost every fiber of his being.

Landing on a parapet encasing a balcony, avoiding the wickedly-pointed spears every couple of feet, and climbing down, he walked into his room, down the stairs and into the throne-room of his father.

His father looked much the same as him, with pale skin and a goatee, but with straight hair kept short, and nearly three times the height of a normal man. Sitting on a throne of dragon-bone and cushioned with blackened fabric, he walked forward, between tables where demons and fallen angels sat feasting on roasted animal carcasses, drinking wine of finest vintage.

Lucifer was angry. Iscarbiel walked slowly forward, to stand in front of his father.

His father glared at him, and began to speak in a voice, deep as the fathoms of the ocean and booming like thunder. “My son… you are weak.”

The assembled court laughed at this, as they continued their feast. Slamming the butt of his pitchfork, the symbol of his rule, into the ground, Lucifer bellowed, “Silence!”

“You have not tasted blood. You are not a torturer, like Jimarciel, or a general of great renown like Falzlynnel. You are not a magus, like Arunic, or a soldier, like Varysin. You are… weak.”

Loathing dripped from every word he spoke.

“But there is hope for you yet, my whelp, for our guards have caught something that you can… play with.”

Iscarbiel would sweat, if his body could, and fear crept into him like a poisoned dagger. What would his father have him do?

“An angel, sent by my father, to spy on me. Caught by Jimarciel, and brought alive to our dungeons. You will torture it until it swears allegiance to me, and then slaughter it. This is my command; carry it out and your rewards will be great. But be warned,” he almost whispered, in a sibilant hiss, ‘If you fail me, your screams will be far louder and greater than any that now resound across my plane.”

Iscarbiel kneeled, silently, trying to think of a way out of this. None was forthcoming, unfortunately.

“Lonchoriel! Show him to his prey.”

A fallen angel, dressed in fine, purple robes, stood, bowed before Lucifer, and spoke, “Thank you, my lord.”

Lonchoriel lead Iscarbiel down a spiral staircase to the left of the throne room, not speaking as he walked down, down into the depths, beyond the castle and into the bowels of the mountain. Finally, they entered the dungeons, darkened cells where his father’s prisoners were kept. Down the hallway to the very end, where a large door was chained shut. Whispering the password to the door, a word in a language only pronounceable by demons and the damned,  he turned and walked back down the hallway, speaking a simple warning. “Do not fail your father.”

With Lonchoriel gone, Iscarbiel gulped, and walked into the room, not knowing what to expect. He had never left his father’s realm – he had never waged war on the heavens, and he had never seen an angel. From the words of Jimarciel he expected an alien, monstrous entity – something of fire and death, whose hatred of the hells knew no bounds. Something awful, no doubt.

But walking into the torture chamber, he saw something he had never expected to see.

She seemed so… normal. Inhumanly beautiful, with amber hair – but still, alike to his mother and to him. Human in appearance, but with the feathered wings of a pure-white dove, folded behind her. Chained to the ceiling, kneeling on the ground but with her hands suspended above her head, she appeared barely conscious, with superficial bruises and cuts probably incurred in her capture. Upon his entrance, she looked up, and he saw her eyes – humanlike, but with orange irises that matched the shade of her hair. She spat on the ground – blood, red like a human’s, mixed in with the saliva. “Do your worst, demon,” she hissed.

Iscarbiel was dumbstruck. Moving to stand before her, he began to try and sound intimidating, “Fear me, angel, for I am the son of Lucifer – the Morningstar, the Blue Flame, the Lord of Hell – fear me because I am here to –,” he stopped, slapping his forehead. “Oh, enough talk.”

He pulled a tray of torture implements towards him. He was pretty sure how most of them worked – or, at least some of them. Picking up a scalpel, he moved towards her, and she glared at him, looking him in the eyes, unflinching as he moved the scalpel towards the flesh below her right eye. Just as it was about to touch skin, he stopped, stood up, put it down, hyperventilating. “Nine hells damn it all,” he exclaimed.

“You aren’t very good at this,” she observed, watching him closely.

“No, no I am not,” he concurred, staring down at the tray and shaking his head. “I’m Iscarbiel.”

“Anabiel.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

They stood there in silence for a couple moments, neither speaking, wondering what they should do. He couldn’t bring himself to torture her, and she knew it. His father was right. He was… weak.

“So, Iscarbiel, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know, Anabiel, what do we do?”

“You could let me go,” she said, cheekily.

“You have absolutely no idea how impossible that would be,” he sighed. “My father doesn’t trust me to do this, and I’m damned sure he’ll check in before the night is done.”

“Have you ever tortured someone before?” she inquired.

“Nope. Never before in my life have I done something like this. I mostly hung around his courts, listening to my older brothers’ tales of glory, how they torture the damned and kill angels – no offense.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t offended just a little bit.”

“Well, in either case – I never had the stomach for this sort of thing. I’m a fan of decadence, I take to the wine a little more than most, but I’m not a torturer. Any recommendations?”

“Well, torture doesn’t normally come with this much banter.”

“I figured as much,” he said, sitting down in front of her, pushing the wheeled cart aside.

“What will I do,” he pondered, half to himself. “I can’t torture anything, never have, probably never will. But if I don’t my father will torture me.”

“He’d torture his own flesh and blood?”

Iscarbiel laughed, and pulled down the front of his tunic a little to reveal a score of scars, aged and healed whip-scars. “it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Anabiel went quiet. “I’m sorry about your father,” she paused, as if shocked that she had said something like that. “I didn’t think I’d ever say that to a demon,” she explained.

“Well, I’ve never met an angel in my existence, so I think we’re both in rather uncharted territory.”

“Shouldn’t we loathe each other with every fiber of our existences?”

“Probably,” he said, “But I’ve never been particularly demonic or malicious, even for a demon. Especially for a demon,” he paused, then the questions came pouring out, “Why did you come to Hell? If I left, I’d never come back. Ever. Why risk it?”

She bristled, and then began to speak, “I can’t tell you that. Is this your endgame? Pretend to be incompetent and then hope that gets me to spill all the answers? I have to admit, that’s clever.”

“No, nothing like that! Honest!”

She spat on the ground again. “A likely story. Get out of here!”

He got up, a little in shock, and walked out of the room. Outside, he found someone waiting for him. Jimarciel was standing there, a disgusted look on his face. “I knew you couldn’t do it. Father’s right, you’re weak.”

He pushed Iscarbiel aside, and with a wave of his hand, disguised himself perfectly as Iscarbiel. “Leave,” he said. “I’m going to make her talk, and you’ll get the credit for it. I hate your weakness,” he growled, “But you are my blood, for better or for worse.”

As Jimarciel turned to the door, Iscarbiel grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t do it, Jii.”

Jimarciel turned back, and pushed Iscarbiel across the hall, to the base of the stairs. “And what will you do to stop me, whelp? You are a weakling. You can’t even torture a human soul – how could father have trusted you to torture an angel?”

Iscarbiel got up, shakily. And walked forward. “Back away, Jimarciel. I’m warning you.”

Jimarciel laughed and drew his longsword, blackened, infernal steel hissing with the evil with which it had been tempered. “Warning me, now, are you? Run away, you little fool, before I destroy you.”

Iscarbiel took a stumbling step forward, unarmed. Jimarciel laughed and took a stance, with his blade in position so it would be ready to strike. The air smelled of ozone as the blade crackled. “Don’t hurt her,” said Iscarbiel, shakily but resolute.

“Don’t hurt her,” mocked Jimarciel. “She’s an angel. She’s our enemy. Given the power, she would destroy us all. Don’t you care for your flesh and blood? Turn and flee, cur. It’s what you’re good at.”

A million memories flooded Iscarbiel’s mind. Of being bullied by his brothers, of Jimarciel and Falzlynnel laughing at him, beating him into a pulp and him being afraid to speak back. “Not anymore.”

Iscarbiel charged. He did not know what he had planned, but Jimarciel was ready. Driving the blade towards Iscarbiel, he expected an easy kill. But Iscarbiel was not so obliging. Diving into a roll, he went beside the blade, punching Jimarciel in the throat with all of his meager might.

Jimarciel gagged, a hiss, as his blade cleaved into the floor. Running into the cell, Iscarbiel grabbed a blade from the rolling cart of torture equipment. He looked at it, a simple enough dagger, and he readied himself to fight. Jimarciel growled, ripping his blade from the ground and turning to Iscarbiel.

“What will you do now, little one,” he hissed, “What will you do now that you’ve cornered yourself? I will take no mercy on you now.”

“I expected as much,” muttered Iscarbiel, readying himself to die.

Jimarciel laughed and charged forward, bloodlust making him foolish. This time he made sure to be ready for a quick dodge, but this time Iscarbiel was not going to dodge. Throwing himself onto the blade, he drove his dagger into Jimarciel’s heart. “What...?”

Jimarciel let go of his sword, looking down at the blade that had pierced his chest. The blade was of hell-forged steel, like his own. Pulling it out, he watched blackened ichor pour from the wound. Kneeling, then falling over, he moved no more.

Walking over to his brother’s corpse, with the longsword stuck through the right side of his stomach, ichor leaking from his pierced side. Groaning, he groped around on his brother’s corpse, finally finding it. His master key. Walking over to the angel, he unlocked her shackles. “Go,” he said, falling over and leaning on the ground, pain overwhelming, “Run. You can escape.”

Anabiel knelt next to him, lifting his head. “Go!” he hissed, barely able to breathe.

She put her hand to the base of the wound, then, reaching up, pulled it free from his stomach. He screamed, but she covered his mouth. Putting an ichor-soaked finger to her mouth, indicating silence, she put a hand on the wound, whispered a word in Enochian, and it stitched itself shut. “Come with me,” she whispered.

Catching his breath, he nodded.

They made their way up the stairs as quietly as possible, and he whispered to her, “At the top of this staircase is my father’s throne room. If I distract them, you can escape out the balcony at the back of the room. You can still fly, can’t you?”

She nodded. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll guard your escape and follow if I can.”

She looked worried.

“Don’t concern yourself with me,” he whispered. “I’m demonspawn, remember? I’m not capable of redemption.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Iscarbiel ran into the center of the room, quite a sight, covered in black ichor as he was, both his own and his brother’s.

“Father!” he screamed. Lucifer rose from his throne, holding his pitchfork resolutely. “I’m tired, father. I’m tired of my brothers. I’m tired of this court. I’m tired of you.”

“Watch your tongue, boy! I have fought gods! Destroyed nations! What have you done, apart from embarrass my bloodline?”

Iscarbiel saw Anabiel sneak out the back, and he laughed back at his father. “Embarrass your bloodline? Don’t make me laugh! You were defeated, what have your fights wrought you but this wretched place?”

Lucifer howled, his appearance shifting as he took a more suitable size, similar to his son’s. His skin was black as coal and his face a triple, with one on each side save the back. The eyes of each face glowed crimson, and his wings burnt black and skeletal. “Know your place, boy!”

Iscarbiel drew his blade into a ready stance, ready to fight. Lucifer charged, his attack pattern more sophisticated than Jimarciel’s. Within seconds, he had gripped Iscarbiel by the throat, lifting him into the air. “What has the angel brought out of you, boy? What hidden nature is this?”

Iscarbiel saw Anabiel, wings spread, flying off of the balcony and away, further and further, into the distance.

“Love, father.” Iscarbiel choked out.

“Love,” sneered Lucifer.

Dropping the boy, he struck forward with the pitchfork, driving it through Iscarbiel’s chest.

“Love will not save you, boy.”

Iscarbiel lay back onto the floor as ichor drained from his body, and he blacked out, and saw no more.

 ---Epilogue---

Iscarbiel awoke in a white, formless landscape. Standing across from him was a muscled angel, who seemed normal enough, save for the third eye in the center of his forehead. Getting quickly to his feet, he stood in a defensive stance.

“Fear not, worm. I am not here to harm you. I’m here to save you, per my sister’s request.”

“Who?” Iscarbiel began.

“Don’t be rude, Metatron,” spoke a familiar voice behind him. Turning, he saw Anabiel.

“Anabiel! How-,” Iscarbiel stopped himself before he said it. How was he not dead?

“I petitioned my father for your return. He sent Metatron to draw you out of the void. I accompanied.”

“Why?”

“I saw something in you, Iscarbiel. Something no demon has shown before.”

Metatron began to speak. “I see all, boy. I was there when your father betrayed his, and his brethren like me. I see in you what was in him before he turned from the light. Bravery. Honor,” here he paused, “Love.”

“Your bravery in offering your life to save an angel was enough to make you an anomaly; expecting nothing in return made you a hero. And heroes deserve heaven’s blessings, regardless of their father’s sins.”

Anabiel gripped Iscarbiel’s hand. “Follow me,” she said, and lead him into paradise.

You’re a demon. A pretty awful one, might I add. You should have been an angel instead. The other demons constantly harass you for not fitting in or being like them. You end up falling in love with an angel and you have to convince her that you’re not like the others.

Prompt #98

„112 what’s your emergency?“

„So... I accidentally summoned a demon and now they won’t leave ...“

„Demons are not real.“

„Tell that the demon currently eating all of my ice cream!“

Prompt #85

You try to summon a demon. Instead of said demon appearing in a cloud of smoke, there is a voice:

„At the moment hell is busy. The next free demon will arrive soon.“

Then there is weird music.

You wait.

Prompt #70

An angel decides to go live on earth to learn more about humanity.

A demon gets send to earth to find out what an angel is doing there.

A human manages to make two new friends. They don’t know that one of them is a demon and that the other is an angel.

Prompt #52

„So you are not really a demon?“

„Of course not!“

„Good. If you were a demon, that would be very scary... But if you‘re not a demon, how do you explain everything?“

„I‘m the devil, obviously.“

Prompt #49

When you woke up in the morning, your biggest concern was your next exam.

Now you are currently arguing with a ghost (who already told you four different stories about how they died), while running away from a demon and you are maybe the only person, who can stop the apocalypse.

And you haven’t even had lunch yet.

Prompt #39

You tried to summon a demon. But apparently you messed something up, because instead of a demon a hellhound appears.

Well... you always wanted a dog.

Prompt #35

Rules:

No fights are allowed. In this household we resolve conflicts with words.

Do not summon a demon anything under any circumstances. Especially not to trade your sibling for a new Xbox.

Do not trade anyone (or their soul) for anything.

Ghosts are not allowed to scare anybody on purpose.

If humans visit, you could at least try to act normal.

We will not spend any vacation in hell (so stop proposing this idea!). Any trips to hell are forbidden.

Worship me, [name], the greatest sorceress in this reality MUHAHAHA. Only responsible adults are allowed to write things on this list. I‘m the only responsible adult here.

Don’t swap the grape juice with lamb-blood. That‘s just disgusting. And I still needed this blood.

STOP THIS STUPID PRANK-WAR! NOW!

If you consume the last bit of something, write it on the shopping list (it‘s not that hard).

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Just use your brain. Don‘t do anything that could get you or anyone else killed/ hurt/ arrested. Seriously, this list should need only one point: DON‘T BE STUPID!

Prompt #24

You go to hell. Which kind of surprises you, I mean you may not have been a saint, but you weren’t that bad, right? So you ask a demon, why you are here. They look at you with confusion written on their face.

„You don‘t remember? Weird. You went to heaven and then decided to take a dive downstairs and here you are.“

Prompt #2:

When you were born, you were sick and dying. Therefore your parents made a deal with a demon. However instead of your parents soul, the demon wanted the permission to possess you for six years.

On your 6th birthday the demon had already become your best friend, so you ask him to stay.

You are now 24 years old. The demon still possesses you and he is still your best friend. Describe your life.

Fr I was like tf is it? And my face dropped so quickly.

Any here’s what I got

Fitting honestly

okay i made another quiz but this time it’s which monster you’ll get to hook up with. reblog with your result!!

Discovering her powers and meeting the spirits that come with it.

My older brother and my Oc’s from a Pokemon Tabletop Rpg reworked.

So, here's an idea....

So, while on the phone with my girlfriend, I had this thought that made us laugh a bit.

So, we all know the phrase "Go to Hell."

What if, in Hell, demons would say, well, the exact opposite of that, so like this:

In Heaven:

Angel: Ugh, go to Hell, KAREN.

But in Hell:

Demon: Holy crap, Johnathan. Go to Heaven. Nobody f***ing cares.

“Flesh & Bones? Ah one of my favorite Novels!”

Yee I Drew Alastor and Miss Inkwing and they are just good friends not a ship yee (I actually wanna ship Alastor with either Swirl or another oc of mine—) Also I know the lines is not that perfect and that’s because I never use line pressure and decided to give it a try— also my first time drawing Alastor fully

Spoken like a true hero (and ally.) 😌 Point made, loud and strong.

As someone who works a lot with Infernals and some other more “taboo” deities and subjects, I am SO glad to see this. I think we can all learn a thing or two from keeping an open mind.

can ppl stop shitting on demons please

Hell is, like, really, really big. And diverse. There are as many kinds of demons as there are spirits in general.

Not all of them are evil. They don’t all want your soul, or to tempt you, or to deceive you.

JUST LEAVE MY FRIENDS ALONE OKAY

Demons and Drag pt 5

Anitri was just sitting on the couch, minding his own business, when Jem slammed open the door with an irritated look on their face.

"Hello...?" He asked, hoping that they were not about rant about a frustrations.

Jem looked over at him, made a face like a lightbulb light up in their head and started towards him.

"Welp, I'm dead," was Anitri's only thought as Jem approached.

"You're going to babysit tonight." They said in a definite voice.

"We're gonna what?" Surri asked as she walked in the living room.

Jem glanced up at her, before walked towards the kitchen.

"Y'all are gonna babysit this evening because Nikki's nanny is sick and she can't miss tonight," they said as they disappeared around the corner.

Surri stopped short and her face contorted to a confused scowl.

"Hey! I don't babysit!!! What do you take me for?"

Anitri just shook his head. He was completely fine with babysitting, as he loves kids and used to babysit for Dallas all the time. Their step siblings were so precious.

"Come back here!" Surri protested, following Jem into the kitchen.

Anitri pushed the hair out of his eyes, noticing the black tips were shimmering with wisps of color.

He froze.

"Hey Surri?" he called, through the doorway.

"What?" She yelled back to him, peeking through the frame. Her eyes widened.

"It's in the second drawer on the left."

He nodded and disappeared down the hall.

Surri turned back into the kitchen, facing Jem with the most unimpressed look she could muster. Jem stares her down with a look that said, you puny, puny fox, you think you can intimidate me? Think again. But y'know without a smirk.

Surri groaned and rolled her eyes, "When will they be here?"

Jem let slip a smirk, "6:00, 4 kids"

Mind you, it was 4:30.

"How old are they?"

"17, 15 year old twins, and an 18 month."

"Teenagers? Can't they stay home by themselves?" Surri questioned.

"Well, Tim, the 17 year old, has autism which leads to his anxiety spiking when there aren't any adults around. He feels more comfortable when supervised so he knows he isn't doing anything wrong." Jem explained. "And one of the twins tends to have..." they paused, "episodes."

Surri nodded, understanding seeping in.

"Any allergies?"

Jem snorted.

"These kids'll eat anything you put in front of them, but Harper, the baby, loves macaroni and cheese."

Jem makes their way out of the kitchen, calling over their shoulder, "Also the babies half demon."

***

6:00 dead on, there was a knock on the door.

Jem answered the door. On the other side there were 5 people. The only one Surri remotely recognized was "Nikki" or as Surri knew her, Morher of F’s, who was holding the baby, Harper.

Harper had a purple tail. And an extra arm.

‘And I thought Madison’s kids were weird’ Surri thought to herself.

Following Nikki upon entire, there was a tall, like tall tall, like as almost as tall as Anitri, ginger with a freckle smacked face and bright green eyes lookin like some Harry Potter Weasley reject.

Next there were two boys that looked like they were probably twins, which woo hoo, one was lookin like a bottom trying a tad to hard to be a top, with an undercut and his short blonde hair swept into a ponytail. He had a leather Jacket with patches on each sleeve.

The other twin was more the nerdy type with glasses, a sweater vest and khakis. He had a book under his arm and his hair down. He looked like if Logan Sanders had a sense of humor and blonde hair.

And Harper was a baby. With poofy black hair and a cat onesie.

“This is Surri, she and Anitri will be in charge while your Mom and I are at work. Anitri is doing something and will be in here soon.” Jem explained to the charges of the evening.

Surri glared at the boys and stopped when she looked at the blonde bottom.

He was tugging on his sleeves and looking at the floor.

Surri put two and two together rather quickly.

“Hey,” she said, nodding at them.

“Hi!!! I’m Tim! I’m so excited to meet you, do you like Harry Potter! I love Harry Potter, especially the books, have you read the books, my favorite one was... oh what was it called...” he trailed off, wringing his hands on the strap of his satchel.

The blonde bottom put his hand on his arm and said, “Prisoner of Azkaban.”

Tim looked at him with a huge smile and nodded.

The blonde looked to Surri and introduced himself.

“I’m James,” he nodded to his look alike, “that dweeb is Adam.”

“Hey!” Adam reaches forward and tugged on James wolf tail.

“Hey!” James jokingly glared over his shoulder.

Surri rolled her eyes trying to suppress a smile. They remind her of her other siblings.

“Okay! We have to get going,” Nikki said, handing Harper to Adam.

“Boys.” Nikki said, all of them turning to look at her, “behave.”

She then turned and strutted out of the door, Jem winking at them before following her.

Surri observes the collection of characters in front of her.

Harper was chewing on the hood of her onesie, looking absolutely content.

Adam was bouncing her lightly on his hip, staring at her and humming.

James had turned to the side to face Tim. From this angle, Surri could see he had a trans flag on his sleeve and a rainbow flag on the back panel of his leather jacket.

Tim was looking down at James while continuing his rambling about the Harry Potter movies.

This’ll be a fun night, Surri tells herself as she walks over to join the Harry Potter discussion.

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

Lemme know if you want to see the boys and Harpers designs!

Demons and Drag pt. 4

Jem is sitting on their couch peacefully sipping their tea and watching Anitri swoon over the guys on TV when Surri walks into the room, phone in hand and a bored look on her face.

“Anitri, quit your drooling, we’ve got a job.”

Anitri whined and slide off the couch onto the floor.

“Do we have to go now? They’re almost to the part where they get shirtless.”

Jem groaned and turned off the TV, making Anitri yell.

“What’re y’all doing this time?” Jem said putting the remote behind them so Anitri wouldn’t grab it.

Surri glanced up from her phone and leaned on the wall.

“We were told that this guy; Mickey, they call him, is testing lethal injections on randos on the street. Has been for about two years, but the cops turn a blind eye cause he’s a white pretty boy.”

Jem’s brow lowered as their look of mild interest shifted to utter disgust. Jem looked away for a few seconds before their face lit up with what appeared to be an idea.

“Can I come?”

Surri was taken aback.

Not by the question itself, but the fact that Jem asked. Jem doesn’t ask for anything.

“Uhhh, sure? I guess it’s fine, but you got to bring something to defend yourself.”

Surri just looked at Jem.

Waiting.

Waiting to see what they came up with.

And much to Surri’s surprise, Jem reached in between the couch cushions and pulled out a bat.

“Let’s go.” They said, and mad their way to the door.

“Where the Hell did that come from” Anitri called from the floor.

Surri shook of her surprise and walked over to her brother and pulled him of the ground by his jacket.

“Listen to the scary Enby.”

***

Jem, Anitri, and Surri were sitting at the bar of Meh discussing there plan.

“So when we find Mickey, Anitri will walk up to him and act like the twink he is. If our source is correct, Mickey will be to enthralled to notice us anything around him, so we can shoot the dart and it will inject the poison.” Surri explained. “Any question?”

Jem shook their head and glanced towards Anitri, who was touching up his hair in the bar mirror.

“Sis, what if the source is wrong?”

Surri pursed her lips as she thought for a moment.

“Well we’ll be there if anything goes wrong, if he doesn’t have a react to you ‘wiles’” Jem gags “then just distract him until I can get a clear shot” Surri told him.

He turns to face her.

“It’ll be fine, we got you.”

He glances at Jem and they nod.

“Lets do this.”

***

They’re strolling down the street, Anitri in a grey sweater and shorts, his hair swept to the side, his tail swaying, and his glasses slumped forward in his nose.

Surri was in her normal black dress, but with a dark, red jacket today. Her hair was pulled back into a small bun, showing the tattoo on her neck. A spider with an M on the thorax. In her jacket was her concealed dart gun.

Jem was wearing a green tank top and maroon pants under a long trench coat which concealed their bat. They had their hair tucked away in a moss green beanie.

“What does this guy look like again?” Jem asked, tucking a of green back into their hat.

“A Kyle.” Surri said.

Jem snorted a laugh while Anitri shuddered.

They turned a corner and they saw a guy wearing a tank and shorts, holding a kitten and a syringe. He looked as if he was about to use it on the kitten, which was meowing and squirming.

Surri watched as Jem shot forward and smacked the guy in the back of the head with their bat.

He dropped the cat and it scampered into a nearby bush.

“What the hell!!!” The guy said, turning towards the group, and Jem hit him again, this time in the face.

The guy, who Surri could now tell was Mickey hit the deck.

Jem just kept smacking the guy, muttering about how sick you have to be to try and harm an innocent kitten.

Anitri shook off his shock and rushed forward to pull her away from the now bloody and battered Mickey.

Jem huffed, handed the bat to Anitri and calmly walked over to the bush the kitten hid in.

While Jem looked through the bush, Surri walked up to the pile of blood and limbs that was Mickey, who was surprisingly enough still breathing.

Anitri looked at her, a question in his eyes.

She looked from Anitri, back to the battered form. With a roll of her eyes, she drew her gun and shot the dude in the forehead.

Anitri and Surri watched as the form shook and then stilled. Anitri was the first to walk over to Jem, who was now sitting on the ground next to the bush with a wiggly, ginger furball.

Anitri sat next to them and looked at the kitten. It had a scar above it’s right eye, which was green, the other eye being brown. It had a clump of thick fur in the middle of his head that looked like a Mohawk.

Jem held him up to show Anitri. Surri also turned to pay attention.

“This is Westley. He will be comin home with us.”

Surri gave a confused look.

‘Another cat?’ she thought to herself.

Surri crouched to get a better look at the kitten. He mewed at her in the tiniest little cat voice she’d ever heard and Surri decided that this cat was her new favorite roommate.

Demons & Drag pt. 3

DISCLAIMER!!!! TRANSPHOBIC SLUR IS USED. IM SORRY, I HATE IT TOO.

Also a Disney song is quoted. I didn’t come up with it obviously.

Surri sat in the back row of Leh, Jem’s club/bar. She watched as Anitri talked to some of the drag queens of to the side, noticing his occasional glances in her direction.

He had already briefed her on their target for tonight.

Lacy Budwick, a genocidal politician, who is allegedly supposed to show up here tonight for a meeting.

Jem insisted that the twins tell them when they plan to “get rid of” someone so they can advise them on where and how, mostly to ensure they don’t ruin anymore of their carpet.

Surri watched the specific drag queen that Jem had told her went by Mother of F’s, she was a tall lady with a white wig and dramatic green makeup. She had on a skin tight, emerald green dress that only reached her mid thigh. She had chains dangling around her neck and a smile on her face as she greeted patrons that came through the door.

After awhile, a lady in a power suit with blonde hair in what Surri could only describe as a Karen bob, with a scar along her jaw, walked through the door.

Target acquired.

“Welcome to Leh, I hope you have a wonderful evening, darling.” Mother of F’s said in a sweet voice to the woman.

“Whatever t****y, get out of my way.” Miss Bullshit spat.

“I beg your pardon?” the bewildered queen questioned.

“I said move it, t****y.” Said unwelcome politician.

Surri watched as Jem, or Coco Rose, seemingly materialized next to the two.

“Do we have a problem here?” asked the towering queen.

“The only problem is that this, t****y, won’t get out of my way.”

The flower covered queen looked down at Miss Budwick with a look of mild disgust.

“Excuse me, but we don’t tolerate that word choice here. I’m gonna have to ask you to apologize to this queen, for it is absolutely impolite and intolerant to degrade someone who outranks you; especially when they have done nothing wrong.”

“Why would I listen to a t****y like you?”

Upon hearing this, Coco Rose snapped three fingers and the lights shut off. A few seconds later, a spot light shown down on Coco Rose, center stage.

“Don’t you disrespect me little lady.”

Neon lights started to slowly light up.

“Don’t you derogate, or deride.”

The stage lights spread to show a very creole set.

“You’re in my world now, not your world.”

The two spotlights showed two of the other Queens, Delphine Lulu and Mother of F’s.

“And I’ve got friends on the other side,” Coco Rose said with a wink towards Surri as the other queens murmured the line over.

Surri questioned what the wink meant for only a second while the Queen continued their performance. They wanted Surri to act now.

She walked behind the bar, only getting a glance from Rue Dolly, the Queen on bar duty, before he went back to cleaning glasses.

She reached under the cabinet and found what she was looking for.

Arsenic.

Surri mixed a simple drink and shook the toxin in. She then carried it over to where Miss Bullshit was sitting.

Then returned to the bar to watch the magic happen.

After Coco Roses set was complete, Delphine Lulu took center stage for his set. Coco Rose made their way through the crowd, towards the bar. They met Surri’s eyes with a inquisitive look. Surri nodded.

She then felt her phone buzz.

She pulled it from her pocket to see Anitri questioning her on her progress.

“Just watch her and if she leaves follow her,” Surri texted in response, “She won’t last long.”

As the sets went on Surri helped Rue Dolly clean glasses while the temporary bartender was mixing drinks. On a normal day, Emily would bartend but from what Surri had heard from Jem, Emily was currently visiting her mother and would be back in a few days.

Surri felt a buzz and checked her phone.

“She’s on the move.” The text from Anitri read.

She placed the glass in her hand on the counter and slide out from behind the bar. She followed her brothers tail that she saw slip through the door. When she found him he was watching the intolerant politician, lean against the side of the building with saliva running down her chin as she clutched her stomach. She was only visible in the darkness due to the neon pink sign shining on her. Anitri nudged her convulsing body into an ally where she fell onto her side and let out choked gurgling noises, jerking and drooling until those noises stopped and the color drained from her eyes.

Another one bites the dust.

Anitri turns to Surri, a look that was hard to read in his eyes, and nodded as if to reassure her that the retched lady was dead.

Then they both headed back inside, took a seat in the back row and acted like nothing happened and they had been watching the show all along.

So this is the beginning of a story I wrote. I wanted it to be more visible so I’m posting it here. Art will eventually be posted with it. It has been edited.

So I present to you,

Demons and Drag.

The flickering lights of their crappy agency was annoying the demon who was gazing at her reflection in the dirty mirror as she applied her lipstick.

"Surri, hurry up. Boss said he wants this job done before midnight," her brother called into the room while passing by.

"Yeah, yeah, Anitri. I'll be right there." She called back.

She brushed her fingers along her foxish ears, making sure there hairs were all facing the same direction, and arose from her seat. She walked out of the room, hips swaying with her tail, the way any sucubus in this industry would.

"Ready?" She asks her brother.

"Always," he answered, his fangs showing with his sly smile.

***

"Lemme get this straight," Jem said, in full drag attire. "You want me, to let you, someone who has no experience, go up on my stage and sing your pretty little heart out because your 'daddy' will pay me to?"

The girl nodded, insistently.

Jem sighed, placing a manicured hand to their face.

"Listen darling, that's not how it works here. We have people who have been doing this for years performing, and if they're new we've screened them, they've auditioned, and we've scheduled their performance. We don't just let anyone who wants to perform on a whim on my stage. If you want to perform on my stage, we can discuss this later but right now I've got a show to start." They finish and turn to take to the stage.

Dress billowing, Coco Rose stands center stage and starts the night.

"Welcome all you morally ambiguous people!"

***

"We're here," Anitri said, glancing at his phone.  "Target is Dr. Nano Gunther. Has been proven to overdose patients with mal intention, forcing patients to add him into their will then killing them off, purposefully botching surgeries, this guys a sicko. And he's all yours."

Surri glares at him, his smirk still on his face when she faces the door.

"Piece of cake," she says as she strides into the club in her short black dress.

She walks right up to the bar and takes a seat, glancing the stage where a bubbly drag queen was preforming a rather childish song. When she returned her attention to the bar another queen was to be seen, mixing drinks. She had on a rosy dress that poofed out from the waist down.

"What can I get you, darling?" they asked.

"A glass of wine would be marvelous," Surri said sweetly.

"Coming right up, sugar" the queen said.

While the queen was working on getting the wine and glass, Surri's eyes scanned the club for her target.

"Who you lookin for?" The queen asked, pushing the wine towards Surri.

"Oh no one, I just like to people watch."

"Well, people round here are pretty interesting, I'm Coco Rose."

"Surri, Surri Turazora."

"Nice to meet you, Surri."

"Likewise."

Coco leaned over the bar and whispered, "You shouldn't leave your phone on, he's in the third booth from the bathrooms."

Surri's eyes widened and she quickly turned off her phone, then her eyes watched Coco Rose to see what their reaction was but they were cleaning glasses a few feet over.

Surri got out of her seat and walked away, shaking her head at the interaction.

She found the booth and walked by with her head held high, her hip out and her tail a-swaying. She can feel the Doctor's eyes on her as she heads to small table by the stage. She spots her brother in the corner of her eye, talking to Coco Rose, the drag queen from earlier.

After a few minutes, the doctor slides into the chair across from Surri.

"Hey, babygirl," he said, trying to seem attractive.

He was thin and tall, with short black hair and dull blue eyes. The only interesting thing about him was the scar that was on his jaw.

"Hiya handsome, come here often," Surri asked, in her sweetest voice.

"From time to time, you here alone?"

Red flag.

"Oh yeah, I was scouting the place out for my friends bachelorette party."

"Good," he said, sliding closer to her.

She cringed internally, he's just like most of her marks. A totally creep, who wouldn't know how to except a no if it kicked him in the nuts.

He chats her up a bit while the drag queen finishes her song and asks her if she wants to come with him somewhere a bit more private.

Spotting her opening she agrees and goes along with him, trying not to gag as his arm wraps around her waist.

They head to one of the private rooms that he apparently rented out.

'This is it,' Surri thought to herself as the Doctor sat in a chair, legs apart, patting his lap.

She walked up to him, placed her hand on his shoulder and sat in his lap.

He leaned close to her.

His sudden intake of breath was heard clearly through the room. He pushed her off of him and clutched his side.

She flicked her dagger to get some of the blood off it before turning her gaze back towards him.

"But I thought you were into pain, Sir," she said, knowing full and well that he wanted to correct her but as her poisoned laced dagger had made its mark, he knew it was a fruitless effort.

"Why," he breathed out as he crumbled to the floor.

"Because you are a disgusting creature that no one deserves to encounter."

And with that she stabbed him through his head.

...

Jem is watching the entrance to one of their private rooms that they saw that Surri chick head through with that creep. They let out a very soft sigh when they saw her leave the room, unharmed, but alone.

Jem watched Surri approach that tall, lanky fellow they meet earlier. Anitri. They look similar, twins perhaps?

They left after a few words.

Jem slide out from behind the bar, signaling for Delphine Lulu to take over.

They walked over to the room and opened the door slowly, hand ready to grab their pepper spray from their skirt if necessary, only to be shocked at the sight.

The creep lay crumpled on the floor, head twisted, two stab wounds; both of which were green and foaming.

Dead.

"Now I have to replace the carpet again," Jem muttered.

...

"Anitri, are you sure about this?" Surri asked him as they entered the lobby of the apartment building. They were going to meet with a person who was looking for some new roommates.

They stood in the elevator, Anitri swaying along to the music while he fiddled with the sleeves of his crimson sweater. Surri just picked at her nails, she had got blood on them the other night and it wouldn't come out, so she just made a design out of it.

The door opened and the walked a ways down the hall and knocked on the door.

The person to open the door had short black hair that faded to a vibrant green. They were taller than Surri but shorter than Anitri and had dark brown skin with a blotchy pinkish birthmark on their left shoulder. They looked unimpressed.

They stared the twins down for a second before they spoke.

"Oh, your the ones who murdered that guy at my bar."

I hope I'm not the only one upset about how the demons feel about Tristan.

But now is the moment when he can save their lives and earn their respect.....

SPOILEERS NEW CHAPTER!!!

WHAT THE FUCK?!

.

So you really want to tell me that Percival, who is human and in no way related to demons, except that he was with Zel and Gelda, is loved by demons, while Tristan, who is the son of the oldest prince of the kingdom, is hated and despised?!

...

..

Whew!

Okey, okey, okey!

I kind of understand their hatred of Tristan, because he's not only Meliodas' son, but also Elisabeth's, and demons still don't get along with goddesses (for whatever reason, though maybe that doesn't apply to everyone).

But doesn't the fact that he's the son of your elder prince mean ANYTHING? And the fact that Meliodas is a traitor is not relevant, because we were told before, Meliodas often visits Zeldris, unlike Tristan himself, and I think now I even know the reason for that. I dread to think of the way he is treated in the heavenly realm...

Look at me! I’m the strongest in the sea. My lungs take in the water like it’s air and send it out with great flair. Look at me! I’m humble like the earth, my arms stretch out to hug the masses as my heart burns what’s left of ashes. Look at me! I’m fluid like the air, moving about without a care, letting those who wrong me pass me by until I’m left alone to die. Look at me. I’m alone like fire. Don’t get too close, I’m a broken wire, threatening to burn and combust into nothing. Look at me. My humble trying and desperate crying did nothing to appease those demons. My heart was burned and left to nothing as I sit here in solemn quiet. Look at me.

Look at what I’ve done

You are the angel i couldn’t kill 

😶 A dragon...

okay i made another quiz but this time it’s which monster you’ll get to hook up with. reblog with your result!!

Belle rolled her eyes and put her headphones on, looking at the window shade. She glanced at her girlfriend violet, who was staring at the ceiling while in the middle seat. Belle looked down further to her mom and dad, who were peacefully sleeping across the aisle. Belle gently tapped her girlfriend on her shoulder, and took off both their headphones.

“Vio, babe. Wanna look at the window?” Belle asked quietly with a mischievous grin.

“They just said it was prohibited. So, yeah!” Violet responded quickly and quietly. Belle looked for any workers, but they were all in the front, so it was clear to do so. She looked at the window shade, quickly checked again for anybody else and slowly drew up the shade.

“Oh he’s just gorgeous..” She whispers happily.

“What?! Look at it!” Violet remarked.

What was beyond that window, you ask, dear reader?

A storm. A cloudy, smoky, odd green storm. A thunderstorm, without the thunder. It was a sickly green, mixing with the black to create a muddy shade. In the eye of the storm.. was, rather oddly, an eye.

Dare say, an Angel. It wasn’t all to pleased on being seen.

Belle quickly shut the window as she heard footsteps coming to the back of the plane. She rested her head on Violet’s shoulder as a worker frantically passed by.

“Oh, who opened the window shade? Oh no no no.” He was muttering as passed by, in a state of panic. Belle perked up once he left, and looked out the window once more. This time, the Angel was pressed against the window, a psychotic grin on its face. Now that Belle thought about it, maybe it was a demon. It had a pale, ashy complexion, and skin that seemed to be leather. Long black horns rose from all over its head, and fangs poked out from its smile. It had long bony fingers, with yellowed nails that looked so dirty it could make one puke. Violet quickly shut the shades as the worker passed by, still panicking. Both the girls were starting to get nervous now. That’s when the plane rattled. An unearthly howl disturbed the comfortable silence on the plane.

Violet grabbed Belle’s hand and pecked her on the cheek. “I love you but I think you just got us killed.” She whispered.

“Attention passengers, this is your pilot speaking. Opening your flight window shades is now prohibited until further notice. The airline is not liable for any psychological distress experienced from viewing outside.“