#first fallen

[comicwaren]

From Resurrection of Magneto #003, “Falls the Shadow”

Art by Luciano Vecchio, David Curiel and Jesus Aburtov

Written by Al Ewing

[braddocklegacy]

“It began billions of years ago…”

Rogues Gallery — The First Fallen

[tobyfoxbutreal]

EVERYONE FAVORITE NUMBER AND COLOR!

Toriel: Well, my child, I’d have to say… well, 80 is nice… and so is purple!

sans undertale: ehh, 1’s nice and short. y’know, like me. and, uhhh… vermillion. ‘s what my bro wears.

THE GREAT PAPYRUS: NYEH HEH! YOU WISH TO KNOW MY FAVORITES? WELL, MY FAVORITES ARE 20 AND VERMILLION! IT’S THE COLOR OF MY SCARF AND BOOTS!

yup. color 20.

NO, THEY’RE VERMILLION!!!!

Undyne: You wanna know MINE?? Well, I like 50. Y’know, right midway. And I, uh.. like yellow. If ya know what I mean. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Alphys: U-Undyne!! Ehehehe.

A-anywho, I like 50, and am torn between blue and red =^-^=

[my best approximation of] Mettaton: My favorites, darling? Well, if you insist.

255’s an oldie but a goodie, at least according to most computers. And, well…

If you don’t know I like pink, have you even seen my brand, darling?

Asgore: My favorite number and color, eh? Hmm…

Well, 80’s nice, and… vermillion’s calming, like a warm fire in Snowdin.

G: 666 AND BLACK. NOW GO.

12th Month: Heh! ‘Course Goopster’s mad.

HEY.

Anywho, I like 3 and green.

Specifically the green of light tricklin’ through green leaves.

Flowey: YOU of all people? Heh. Well, after being a flower for so long, you begin to not like anything.

But, if ya wanted Azzy’s…

Flowey, mimicking Asriel: Do’h boy! I sure do just love yellow and infinity!

Flowey: Happy?

Frisk: I am naught but a vessel for the player’s actions. I doth not have any opinions other than the ones of those who control me’s.

The First Fallen Human: …

…Brown and 6. Now leave me alone.

That One Talking Rock From The Ruins (AKA Speedrunner’s Bane): Well, I’m partial to purple. ‘S the color of where I spent a lotta my life. Ya don’t just forget that.

And, well… I suppose 20’s nice.

Snowman From Snowdin Forest: White’s really nice. Y’know, color of snow. And, uhh…

3’s nice too.

Jerry: Leave me the hell alone, freak. *crowd boos*

Shopkeeper Bunny (QC): Well, darlin’, if ya ask me, orange’s the best ‘round here. So’s 22, ‘cause it’s the amount my homemade Cinna Bunnies heal!

Politics Bear: Well, I quite like blue. Reminds me both of Snowdin’s ice and Waterfall’s walls.

And hey. 16’s pretty good. I’d say “thaaaaat’s politics”, but it wouldn’t make sense to.

Gerson: Wahaha! You goin’ around askin’ everyone, huh?

Well, a dark blue or indigo’s always nice. 18’s pretty good, too.

T3mMie: hOI hOOmaN! Yoo wANt tO kN0 teM’s FavRIt cOluR N nUBmEr?

TEm Lik BLU adn YELLO, yAyA! BLU andn YELLO coLuR oF TEm Sh0p! T3m aLSo liKE Th0rtY 3!

You better not tell anyone though, capiche?

bOI!

Mushroom:

Mushroom dance, Mushroom dance,

Whatever could it mean?

It means light blue and 66.

Hotdog Harpy *rock guitar plays*: Red and 30!

Red’s the color of hotdogs, and 30’s the headstack limit!

H… Hots Fireguy?: THE NAME’S HEATS FLAMESMAN!

Heats Flamesman: Anywho, yellow and 40. Remember that, ok?

Catty: OMG! I absolutely ADORE purple and 300.

Bratty: OMG, like, I like the same number! I prefer green though.

Kris: …

Susie: Well, if you insist I guess?

Blonde and 14.

Ralsei: I like green, and… well, I don’t have a favorite number, so I suppose it’s whatever you like, haha!

Noelle: W-well, uhm, I like 3, and uh…

…Purple…?

Berdly: Well, I like 10 and blue!

Jockington: Well, since you asked, bro.

My faves are 99 and turquoise!

*rock guitar plays Jockington out*

Catti: …

…6.6 repeating.

And black.

Eg: …

Egg(s): …

King: Leave me to myself. I have no reason to speak with you lightners. *crowd boos*

Queen: I Like 11111111 (In Binary Lol) And The Color Blue

Or Whatever The Cyber City’s Color Is Lmao

Lancer: Well, my delicious little worm, I enjoy both 100 AND navy blue!

How’re you gonna counter that, my sweet apple?

JEVIL, JEVIL!!: UEE HEE HEE! CHAOS, CHAOS! THOSE ARE MY FAVORITES!

[Spangtong]: I [Enjoyable] THE NUMBER [π] AND COLOR [Gray]

Heats Flamesman: Well? Did you remember?

❤️Yes No

HOW COULD I BE SO EASILY DEFEATED??????????

[anangelcalledinquisitor]

Et Angelum in Inferno, pt 1

(Original fic, short fiction, features a non-binary angel stolen away by the ruler of Hell.  Anyone who has a name that’s pretty gender neutral for the angel, please feel free to shout out because fuck I’m bad at names.  I tried to leave the angel also unambiguous, so if you prefer to think about a specific gender, you may do so.  Also there is a part two.  I promise no squicky things, unless you are squicked by a demon falling in love, in which case, I can’t help you.  I promise no non-con.  Past abuse is mentioned, as well as imprisonment, but I tried to keep it short.  Also, anyone got any goood ideas on how to describe dark-colored skin without making it sound like one is fetishizing it?  Because FF (First Fallen, because Lucifer is so overdone) is going to be one gorgeous hunk of former angel flesh, and I want to do him right.)

The angel quietly cooled themselves with a delicate-looking fan, short curls framing a delicate face.  Blue eyes stared ahead, a stoic expression on their face as they ignored the celebration around them.

The coliseum was actually rather impressive.  On any other day, they might’ve been tempted to wander its halls, examine the strange architecture, the carved details of the red and gold stone, taking in the wonder of this place.  

Today, however, it was crammed full with more demons than the angel could count.  They knew.  They had tried.

The proceedings below, a rather bloody sort of battle taking place between a dark and hairy beast and some overgrown serpent, hadn’t held the angel’s attention more than a moment.  The humans had had similar entertainments once, and still had something like it now, they presumed, which was why they had allowed their duties to watch the blossoming of mankind slip.

It hadn’t been their fault that while they’d looked away, marveling at the stars or the seas or something, anything else but what the humans were doing, their charges had managed to nearly wipe themselves out.  They had protested being posted as the Watcher, had pleaded and demanded something, anything but that.  But, as they were reminded later, everyone had a duty, whether they liked their duty or not, and it was their responsibility to ensure that mankind survived.

Of course, it hadn’t been fair that they had been the only one punished.  They were not the only angel assigned to watch them, and when they had protested, naming others who were supposed to share in that responsibility, it had become quite clear.

They would singularly be held responsible so that the multitude may learn from the example of the one.

Still, they weren’t entirely sure how one could explain this particular chain of events to one’s supervisor.  How does one tell their superiors that they needed rescue because a Fallen had taken a fancy to them during their imprisonment and that he had been the one to break them out, despite how they had clung (albeit half-heartedly) to the bars and refused?  They would be laughed right out of the ranks of the seraph! They would be an offense worse than any Nephilim or cherubim, stripped of their rank and protection and, worse still, would still have to endure the rest of their imprisonment, five millennia bound in a prison that always moved, never in the same place twice.  It had been interesting the first week, seeing some of the vast and unspoilt areas of land and sea, places that none had set foot in.  But after that, the cage seemed to favor deserts.  Hot and blistering, or cold and dry, leaving the angel to wonder if someone was deliberately choosing these places.

Once, the cage had manifest beneath the sea.  They had woken to the deep, crushing dark, and they had screamed.  The angel had always been afraid of the void, for it was like death for their kind.  The next day, lying wet and trembling on the scorching sand of a distant desert, they had sobbed, not caring that their once-fine robes were stained with the red sands, drying and caking into their skin as they wept in relief at the grit beneath their forehead, clinging to their cheeks and eyelashes..  

The cage never returned beneath the sea after that, and they were glad of the mercy of Heaven.

A taunting laugh broke the angel’s reverie.  Blue eyes glanced to the side to see an imp mocking the angel’s fanning motion, those eyes steeling for a moment as the angel narrowed their gaze.  They knew this imp—it had enjoyed mocking them as they tried and failed to acclimate to the Fallen’s sulfurous realm.  Of course, it only did this when its master would never spy the mockery.  If the angel had cared enough, they might’ve said something, or waited until the master returned to leave in a teary huff.  That had happened the first time, when the angel couldn’t bear the insults of the demons and other Fallen, fleeing back to their tower room and refusing to come out.  Later, they had seen what had remained of those that their master had punished, and many of the Fallen had given them a quiet sort of deference.  The angel wondered what their master had done to bring such a change, but he had said nothing on the matter.

The angel felt a hot prickle between bared shoulders, the familiar sensation that heralded his return, the imps casually shifting their exaggerated fanning-motions to waves and excited fist-shaking as they appeared to be cheering for the match below.  They glanced uneasily at the angel, quickly aware how easily they could be repeating the mistakes of the past—they had seen the remains of the five most unfortunate, and realized they could easily be next.  

Keeping this information, the angel remained still except the delicate fan, which simply moved the hot, dry air around them.  From the edge of their periphery, they could see the dark armor, hear the rasp of leathery wings as they folded themselves against his back, feel the heat rising in their face and knowing, deep down, it had nothing to do with the heat radiating off the Fallen that stood beside them.

That was the other thing the angel did not want to get back to their superiors.  The exact identity of the Fallen that had rescued them from the cage.  Blue eyes stared at a fixed and distant point, between two guard-spires, barely discernable against the far horizon, determined not to look.

“How is the match?” he asked, the deep timbre of his voice raising goosebumps up the angel’s back as they struggled to ignore his overwhelming presence.  

“I am not much of one for sport,” the angel said quietly, only briefly glancing down at the battle below before turning their gaze back to the horizon.  A hot wind ruffled their wings, even as they kept them pressed tight against their back, and a wave of longing ran through the angel.  They wanted to soar again, even here in this hot, stifling place, to feel gentle and weightless and powerful...  

He was speaking again, though the angel only caught the last few words, blue eyes tearing away from the horizon for a moment to look at him.  Soft blue eyes met a striking gaze, eyes the color of starlight, and the question died on their lips, forgotten before the words could fully form.

The Fallen that stood before her was none other than the First Fallen himself.  He was standing much too close, and the angel could smell the strange smell of a woodfire mixed with something earthy and musky.  Blue eyes lost focus for a moment, the scent of earth driving away the brimstone and sulfur of this place...  And then he was suddenly moving back, turning to someone else who had spoken and the angel felt a lurch of panic as they took a step backwards.  Then another, and another, before turning to run for the opposite end of the dais.  With only the quickest wingbeat, the angel took to the angry indigo sky, the hot night burning around them as they tried to put distance between them.

There was a mocking roar and raucous laughter that followed the angel, with a louder, angrier sound drowning out the gathered demons.  The First Fallen was demanding silence, and bellowing for the angel to return.  Fighting the compulsion, silver-white wings tipped, the angel banking smoothly as they began to slowly circle the sprawling city.  They would not leave, much as they wanted to, but they would not return to the coliseum until the crowds had dispersed, and the angel could retire safely to their tower.