I LOVE YOUR ART AND THE ALTERNATIVE CREEPYPASTA UNIVERSE!
By the way, what would Lazari look like in your AU?:3
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!
Since Zalgo isn’t in my AU, neither is Lazari, so I haven’t come up with a decent design for her. However, this is along the lines of what I’d do!
I think once her demonic features start manifesting, instead of being based all on her hunger level/form, it instead spreads as she gets older, somewhat like mould. As it began manifesting on the left side of her face, Lazari wears her hair over it, since she’s been taught to be very shameful of her demon heritage.
By the time she’s 25, her body will be fully consumed, the only human features remaining being her proportions (and even those are quite elongated).
This masterpost is being written by myself and @puppycarnage3 for the new fans who generally have no fucking idea whats happening in this fandom or story as they showed up late!
This post includes work from @lxcke-art/ @lxcke as well who created this stories version of slenderman and the proxies!!
This post includes general information from the worldbuilding to lore, and illustrations, etc to get you in the loop of this project!
This post can be found in my profile pinned post as well!
A MASTERPOST ABOUT CHARACTERS IS ALSO BEING MADE
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Worldbuilding:
Space in Blessed Be the Wicked isn’t some beautiful, vast expanse of stars and wonder. It’s alive. Every galaxy, every earth, is like a nerve ending on a massive, rotten web that stretches far beyond human comprehension. The further you get from your own earth, the more distorted reality becomes to YOU. The laws of physics break down, time fractures, and the deeper you go, the more you realize space itself is a living organism both parasitic and cancerous, feeding on everything it touches.
People hear “multiple Earths” and instantly assume I’m doing the MCU thing but Blessed Be the Wicked doesn’t work like that. It’s not parallel timelines or infinite universes stacked on top of each other — it’s one giant shared universe where space just goes on forever, and the deeper you go, the more warped things get.
The central idea is: if you fly far enough in any direction, if you keep going past the known galaxies, past the shit we can’t even comprehend, you’ll eventually find another Earth. Not a metaphor. A literal, physical Earth. Sometimes it's a little off, sometimes it's exactly the same. And sometimes? It’s rotted, infected, stripped bare by the Web and whatever else crawled through the cracks before you got there.
So you don’t need dreamwalks or some timeline fracture to get to a different version of reality you just need enough fuel or an Ark Gate and a stomach for what comes after familiar stars. Space in this story is endless, not because it loops or folds in on itself, but because reality as we know it is a disease that metastasized. Earth isn't unique. You're not unique. You're just close enough to the original shape that whatever’s out there still recognizes you.
It’s not multiverse logic. It’s infection logic. Distance becomes distortion. The further you go, the more off-model everything gets. And somewhere out there is a version of you that never made it back.
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SLENDERMAN/THE WEB:
The Web isn’t a singular thing. It’s not even a creature in the traditional sense, it’s a system, a sentient infrastructure that uses the Tall Man (or what people call Slenderman) as its face, its anchor. Think of him less like a god and more like a relay tower; he’s the avatar that the infection uses to communicate, to build, to reorganize humanity into something that fits its design.
The Web predates humanity but it learned to mimic us. It learned how we build cults, governments, families and it copied that structure imperfectly. It doesn’t want to wipe us out, it wants to repurpose us [To what end, who knows]. Every proxy, every agent, every "monster" that crawls out from its influence is a new limb, a new experiment in control. The Web sees individuality as a kind of disease it breaks people down until they can’t tell the difference between devotion and programming.
The Tall Man himself isn’t a father figure or a savior. He’s a supervisor, a correctional mechanism. When the infection detects something unstable, something too human, too emotional, he sends the executioners, like Jingles, to prune the excess and kill the proxies that are too human.
He doesn’t speak, not because he can’t, but because there’s no point. Every thought you could ever have about him was planted in your head by him already. You’re just catching up.
When people die in this universe, they don’t just vanish. They’re recycled and cemeteries end up empty. Their data, memories, impulses all of it gets restructured somewhere else in the Web’s infinite lattice. That’s why there are countless Earths, countless iterations. The Web isn’t omnipotent, but it scales. It spreads, and with every iteration, it tries again to perfect its creations [Proxies].
Credit for this art and concept and direction to @lxcke
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PROXIES:
A proxy isn’t a guy with a mask and a knife, it’s not some angsty mercenary roleplay bullshit, it’s a corpse or unwilling host. A ruined body/person puppeted by something that shouldn’t exist in our reality.
The Web doesn’t “possess” like a demon. It integrates.
When the Tall Man reaches into your flesh, it doesn’t just choose someone and slides in a proxy, it rewrites them. Skin, nerves, DNA, memory, the whole organism gets rewritten line by line by an "internal" parasite [the actual proxy itself] until what’s left isn’t a person anymore, it’s a node. A terminal on a much larger network.
Proxies are extensions of the Web’s nervous system walking transmitters, constantly feeding information back to whatever sits at the center of all that thought and static. The host often doesn't know. It’s not a slow possession, it’s a deletion. Every instinct, every cell is repurposed for something higher and colder than human survival.
And when the body burns out, because they all do, the consciousness inside it doesn’t die. It just jumps. Finds another host, forces the rewrite again.
You can unload a shotgun into one and it’ll keep standing, dragging a shattered spine down the road like nothing happened, because pain is just a tickle to them. The Web feels it but it doesn’t care. It’s just data.
What you’re looking at when you see one isn’t just a servant. It’s a piece of the Web itself.
The body is a placeholder and the thing moving inside is old, endless, and learning. Always learning.
EDITORS NOTE: Proxies aren't small in number, across space you can easily find thousands in general across all occupied earths.
Credit for this art and concept and direction to @lxcke
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ZALGOIDS/LEGION MEMBERS:
Now, something I don’t think a lot of people pick up on until way later in the story is that the Wight bloodline is a constant across every version of Earth the Web touches. No matter how far into space you go, no matter how far removed that iteration of humanity is from the original infection, there’s always a Wight somewhere and they’re always the first to break.
Wherever the Web begins its invasion, the Wights end up being its collateral damage. It’s not even intentional most of the time. The radiation of the Tall Man’s physical presence alone is enough to warp the world around him, but what really screws things up is the other thing. The unexpected visitor. An entity not tied to the Web but absolutely capable of interfering with its ecosystem. It doesn’t mean to infect the family, it just exists, and its proximity to them starts a chain reaction that spreads like a genetic cancer.
The writing staff call them “Zalgoids.” That’s not a canon term, more of an internal nickname from the creepypasta fandom, but it fits.
Editors note: Not every Legion member has even begun their transformation into the creature they'll become.
A Zalgoid is always one member of the Wight bloodline who’s been so thoroughly burned out by the Tall Man’s influence and this other entity’s corruption that death becomes a cocoon. They die violently, grotesquely and then they come back. The rebirth isn’t divine. It’s humiliating. Every nerve and vein gets rewritten, skin peeled back to something raw and red and wrong. The body reshapes itself like it’s trying to evolve faster than it was ever meant to simply to protect itself.
Each Zalgoid becomes their world’s apocalypse. A living extinction event born from pain, mutation, and forced transcendence. They don’t choose it, they’re just too close to the nuke so to speak. Too human to withstand it, too tainted to die cleanly. What makes them even more dangerous is that the first of them Zalgo himself found a way to open the ARK Gates, pulling all his fractured descendants together across space and time. And his only goal?
To kill the Tall Man.
ZALGO:
Isaac Wight was always a strange kid, and often spoke of a mysterious tall visitor from the woods, though this wouldn't be the cause of his problems.
His mom, Frankie, did everything right afterwards. She worked nights as a nurse, kept food on the table, made sure both her kids were clean and cared for and for a long time, that was enough to keep the cracks sealed. There was structure in that house, warmth even, and to say they were a supportive family is an understatement.
His fixation on his sister, Alice, wasn’t romantic or incestuous. It was about framing. When he looked at her, he saw something perfect. Innocence never looked so good. She had a kind of beauty that made him feel sick because he couldn’t hold it still.
It’s that old thought: if I can’t preserve it, I’ll destroy it.
And he loved her too much to let anyone else touch her, so when the world inevitably did, he decided he’d rather be the one to break her himself.
Alice loved her brother. That was the problem. She helped him. She’d lure in girls from school who looked like her, same hair, same face, same young softness and Isaac would do what Isaac did.
Maybe she thought she could keep him calm, or maybe she just couldn’t say no. But when it wasn’t blood and girls crying, they were painfully normal. Dinner. Television. Jokes. A true family with a looming distorted shadow over their home
credit to @puppycarnage3 for art below
Jeff Higgins came back from Vietnam ruined. Not in the heroic, cinematic sense, like meat left out too long. Nobody waited for him, nobody cared.
He and Isaac found each other again, both pretending to be human long after that illusion had expired. Jeff saw the killings, the rot, the rituals, and instead of running, he wanted in. He thought it made him powerful. He thought it made him special.
It all imploded in on itself on Halloween night. Jane Arkensaw burned alive in her house half dressed. Jeff’s body hit the street, gutted and steaming. Isaac limped home in the middle of it all, bleeding out, delirious, only to find Alice hanging in her closet. Guilt finally caught up with her. Maybe that was her act of mercy, she couldn’t stop him, so she stopped herself before she said anything.
That’s when the Tall Man made its manipulation known again. And Isaac ran. Not out of fear, but out of instinct. Straight into the woods, screaming in agony from the static filling his body. Straight into a set of ARK pillars that shouldn’t have been there, where space breaks down into a pitch white void and bones bend like light. And that’s where Isaac Wight ended. The man died, and what came about centuries later wasn’t a man anymore.
That’s how he became Zalgo, because grief needs somewhere to go.
He spent eons in the void, mutating, reforming, decaying, rebuilding himself over and over. The guilt, the obsession, the need to preserve beauty, it calcified into something else. His body learned from pain, his mind evolved through rot. Zalgo was Isaac’s grief learning how to breathe without him.
Reborn as something vast and screaming and aware, he did the one thing no one expected of him.
He made a friend.
Doc August found him in the void. A traveler. A scientist. A wanderer too curious for her own good. Their meetings began as brief exchanges, passing thoughts between rifts, silent gestures through the static. But over the years, they became something else. They talked. They shared food they couldn’t taste, warmth they couldn’t feel. They argued, philosophized, and somehow, against all reason, grew fond of one another.
Zalgo was not cruel to her. For all its enormity and ruin, it remained a reasonable creature, frighteningly intelligent, patient, even gentle in its own way. And Doc August, in turn, promised she could help it escape the void. There would be a cost.
Zalgo couldn’t move between Ark Gates. It was too large. A universe sized being trying to slip through the seams of smaller realities. The only solution was separation to cleave the entity in two. One part would keep the drive: the fury, precision, and cold authority that made Zalgo a god. The other would inherit its humanity, its empathy, its grief.
The process would be brutal.
Doc August arrived with the vessel she claimed to had built, a perfect machine, gleaming gold beneath a red cloak. Feminine. Graceful. An ideal of metal and divinity. It would house the logic of Zalgo, its will and its hunger, its meticulous cruelty and command of creation. This vessel was meant to become The Tyrant.
The second form was another story, a malformed husk of flesh, skeletal and obscene, built to carry the human residue of Zalgo’s lost identity. It would contain what was left of Isaac Wight: the sorrow, the love, the tenderness, and the ruin of him. The emotional rot. This vessel was meant to be The Northstar.
August extracted Zalgo’s drive, its inhuman precision, its sociopathic intellect, its purpose and encoded it into a chromatic Ark Core: a sphere of metallic Chrome and sound that pulsed like a heart.
Then she harvested its human consciousness frail and trembling and implanted it into a biological brain crafted from Zalgo’s own organic remains. The flesh brain. The Northstar.
But when the transfer was complete, something went wrong.
The Tyrant Core, the logic was embedded into the wrong body: the decaying flesh shell.
The Northstar, the human essence was sealed within the perfect metal frame.
Doc August swore it wasn’t her doing. Claimed that while she was away gathering supplies, someone or something had intervened. She blamed the Tall Man’s forces for the swap, insisting she never would’ve placed them that way.
They both believed her.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------WHERE THE SERIES STARTS:
By the time the camera turns on, The Tyrant and The Northstar have already been working together for a while and it’s not going well. Their partnership is volatile. They need each other, but they hate each other in the way only people with shared purpose and personality but differing perspectives can.
Tyrant despises Northstar. He sees her as naive too soft, too human, too unwilling to face what they really are and envies the form she was "gifted".
Northstar, meanwhile, pities him. She thinks Tyrant can still be “healed,” that he’s something broken that could be fixed if he’d just let go of the rage and hunger that define him. She’s wrong, and he knows it.
Together, they’ve been using the Ark Gates to track down blood relatives, fragments of themselves and their lineage scattered through space. Most of them are mid transformation, caught in the slow cosmic infection that’s turning them into something inhuman, Zalgoid, like Tyrant and Northstar.
Dr. August insists this is normal. She tells them that the Tall Man’s influence creates new Zalgoids just by existing, that his presence radiates across all of space like cosmic fallout.
That’s a lie, of course. Not her first, not her last.
With August’s guidance, they start collecting these infected relatives and building what they call the Legion, a makeshift family with one purpose, to kill the Web and the Tall Man.
But even within that shared mission, their philosophies split.
Northstar believes the Legion can be redeemed. That they can learn control, repress their hunger, starve their demons away. She preaches restraint, treating the consumption of human flesh as a sacred act a religious necessity rather than a survival need and pleasure. Her followers eat just enough to survive, never more. They call it reverence.
But they are starving.
Always starving.
To Northstar, death by starvation isn’t anything but proof of weakness. If you can’t endure, you weren’t meant to exist. Her faith is a theology of endurance, salvation through suppression. She truly believes strength must be innate, that you must be born resilient, born clean of need. Those who fall short are impurities in her divine system, sinners of appetite. And so, abstinence to ones nature and drive becomes a greater virtue than any action they take in life.
Tyrant, though, Tyrant believes strength is earned. You’re forged in hardship, not born from it. If you never had a fighting chance, you were never even tested. His resentment burns deep, especially toward Northstar, who would rather watch their starving kin die than let them feed. He hates her sermons, her restraint, her self-righteousness.
So he breaks the rules.
He hunts when the others sleep. He feeds behind their backs, traveling planet to planet like a bear through an unending forest.
And he’s not alone.
Gilt, his daughter from another Earth, dying and half changed begins following him in secret. Tyrant lets her. He knows she needs to eat to live, even if Northstar would call it blasphemy.
Eventually, he realizes that words won’t sway Northstar. To change her mind, she has to understand not intellectually, but viscerally. He decides the only way to make her see is to break her.
The means he goes to would horrify the entire Legion.
Northstar, who’s made of metal, who’s never felt pain, who’s never had a body that could suffer, is forced to feel all of it at once.
It destroys her.
Her mind breaks, still intelligent, still lucid, but colder now, stripped of empathy.
The Legion locks Tyrant away for what he’s done thrown into the Grindhouse, an endless prison.
While he rots, Northstar’s ideology mutates. She declares that survival itself is proof of sanctity that killing and consuming one’s kin isn’t damnation, but ascension.
To eat your own is to transcend weakness, to conquer attachment, to become closer to herself. She tells the Legion that morality is the true corruption that mercy is just vanity soured by guilt.
And under her rule, the Legion begins eating itself alive.
Doc August and Gilt escape, horrified.
They flee into the arms of the Web, aligning with its Proxies not out of loyalty, but necessity to survive, and to plan for Tyrant’s release.
FIVE YEARS LATER
The actual camera turns on when August and Gilt break Tyrant out of the Grindhouse. He’s older, meaner, quieter, not repentant, just done.
They tell him Northstar has become a monster beyond what either of them imagined. The Legion is fractured into zealots and cannibals, spreading across worlds like a new plague. The Web wants her dead.
Tyrant doesn’t want to help them. He doesn’t trust August, doesn’t believe a word about being “left alone” if he cooperates. But he agrees not because he’s hopeful, but because there’s nothing else left to do.
The Mysterious Visitor begins to track him.
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THE ARK GATES:
The Ark Gates aren’t wormholes or portals in the fantasy sense. They’re machines, or what’s left of them. Chrome pillars, rusted to hell and half buried in the ground, humming low like a dying engine. They were built eons ago by something else, something that understood how to fold space like paper and pierce through it like skin. They’ve just been standing there ever since, scattered across Earths like old tombstones.
Every Earth has at least one and even if one doesn't they sometimes just pop in dependent on who's traveling and where. , though most are dead, silent, unresponsive. But some still work. They connect worlds the way veins connect organs, no pattern, no logic, just flow.
If you walk through one, you will come out somewhere else. Maybe an Earth untouched by the Web. Maybe one that’s already half consumed. Maybe a place that’s just an acid trip. That’s the gamble.
The Gates don’t belong to anyone. They’re old highways between earths and elsewhere, and anyone desperate or stupid enough to use them ends up on the same road.
The Legion used them for decades, centuries, maybe, tracking down others like themselves. Tyrant wasn't even the first to use them. If you stepped through while anyone was in transit, you could cross paths with them. But you wouldn’t notice at first. The Gates don’t move you through space the way you think. Sometimes travelers overlap, sometimes they merge, sometimes they walk past each other like ghosts.
Traveling on the same road as someone else doesn't always mean you'll notice one another.
THE TIES TO PHANTASM:
The Ark systems trace their lineage back to the Tall Man’s gateway pillars the twin tuning-fork structures he used to open the door to the red world.. In his era, those forks weren’t just doorways they were instruments, vibrating reality until it cracked enough for him to move bodies, servants, and spheres between worlds. After the Tall Man’s warpath finally burned itself out and it evolved over eons into THE WEB, the forks were left scattered across dead dimensions, metal aging, resonance dying, abandoned like relics from a civilization no one remembered. By the time Doc August found the remnants, they were rusted scaffolds of the original machines, still carrying that strange harmonic signature, but barely alive.
[A photo of the Spheres as shown in Phantasm]
Tyrant’s Ark sphere comes from the same design as the Tall Man’s chrome sentinels [The original proxies]. The original spheres were built from stolen cranial tissue, human brains reshaped and wired into the metal to guide the weapon’s instincts. They flew, hunted, drilled, siphoned, and even acted as inhabitable vessels for the Tall Man’s proxies. Tyrant’s version is a stripped down, long evolved heir to that concept.
His sphere isn’t built for slaughter the way the Tall Man’s were, it’s built for occupation. It burrows into a skull not to liquefy a victim, but to anchor itself, jack into the nervous system, and steer the body from the inside out. No theatrics, no fountains of blood just a command module wearing whatever corpse it chooses.
Where the Tall Man used spheres and forks to move his armies between worlds, the Ark tech is both used to house Tyrant’s mind extending him across bodies and still to travel across space. Same lineage, different era, what was once a weaponized occult engine became the rusted foundation for an entirely new kind of control.
Isn't Christmas such a lovely holiday? For one day a year, everyone loves each other and commemorates the Lord. Something that special doesn't just happen everyday. I guess in that way you're lucky.
we should call the Slenderman x Zalgo ship "Something Awful" because they both originated on the Something Awful forums and also because their relationship is awful
title: Slender and Girl
date posted: September 22, 2012
description (unedited): Here is de Slenderman and my death angel from "It Started with a Dream..."
Commentary by Mod Leechi:
This is one of the first, if not the first instance of creepypasta fanart that can be found on the Chibi-Works DeviantArt page. It should be notes that Tobi wasn't actually in the creepypasta fandom yet when this image was created however -- as she states in this comment thread:
So, as of September 22, 2012, Tobi was not officially in the fandom yet. Rather, she was taking a slight interest in Slenderman (the most mainstream, popular character) and watching documentaries about him. This may have been what caused her to continue going down the creepypasta fandom rabbit hole.
Its also interesting to take into account the words "I wanted to draw him with one of the antagonists in my story". "The Girl", as she's known in these earlier artworks, is not a creepypasta OC. She's an OC that happened to be associated with creepypasta, similar to Cherry Pau. But, that's not to say that "The Girl" (later known as Angel) is has nothing else to do with creepypasta.
Here are two other images wherein The Girl or Angel is prominently featured:
title: The Girl
date posted: September 22, 2012
description (unedited):
this is "The Girl" from "it started with a dream"
she is a semi antagonist character also known as death's "Little angel" for she is the Angel of Death
title: Fate
date posted: January 18, 2013
description (unedited): So here is the Grimm reaper, the angel of death and a girl named Angel who is coincidentally the reincarnation of the death angel. She is also the girl thats going to bring the end of the world but pssshhhh. Im sure if we entrust the fate of mankind to a bunch of teenagers everything will be fine.
There is real reason to believe that Angel may have inspired the character of Lazari later down the line, especially in terms of design. Both of them are young girls, with long hair, red eyes and pink dresses. Apart from design, the premise of both characters is also quite similar; a young girl born with with a hidden dark power that could lead to mass destruction and death because of circumstances outside of her control.
One commenter, years after the original posting date of "The Girl", points this out as well:
Even if Angel didn't inspire Lazari later down the line, it is fascinating to see one of Tobi's earlier OCs before her work on I Eat Pasta For Breakfast, and that many of the ideas and tropes she would use in her most popular series would carry over into the final product.
Commentary by Mod Madam:
It's possible that 'The Girl' could have also been the early inspiration for Lulu (which is a random theory I put together)...
It's a much weaker theory than the Lazari Inspiration theory, but the long dark hair with the paler skin and seemingly shyer nature to Lazari may have given Tobi some inspiration to work on Lulu. With my experience with OCs, sometimes one old OC can be split into different ones with various traits being passed onto each one. Considering in Tobi's works on DeviantArt Lulu art has about equal footing to Lazari art this could be possible...
Also, on the 'Slenderman documentaries', I'm not entirely sure what she could have been watching? Yes, Slenderman was very much in the peak of his popularity in 2012 but from searching it up I didn't actually find any Slenderman specific documentaries from 2012 or before? With the specific use of 'looking up', I think maybe.... Tobi could have actually been looking for Slenderman documentaries and maybe stumbled across something else? Maybe Marble Hornets considering it was still being aired on YouTube actively. I'd be inclined to think so, even though Masky and Hoodie are not at ALL their Marble Hornets selves. But who knows?
From the art made in December 2012, I'm not entirely sure what 'B.C.' could stand for? Was it an online alias or the name of the project the Girl came from? I'll research this and let you all know!
