What a fake peace it is.

[[ Indie Semi-Selective Ivlis from TheGrayGraden/Mogekoverse. ENG+GER OK! Written by Fuka. ]]

[teufelderflammen-blog]

Poemi was the only one he cared about, but he was, after all, a stupid child. He had high believes that one day, the child would grow strong and independent, but not enough to leave him. Just enough to be his right hand. “So you hate children...” He seemed to think about that for a bit. Yes, the god was seemingly a miserable guy, he must hate everything that brings others joy. So children as well. But would that matter to Poemi? Poemi did play with adults all the time, tearing them apart and.... He would have to definitely take care of some things before handing Fumus over to Poemi. For example, his terrible smell. Leaning back against a wall, eyes watching the gods every move, he began to think again. Surely, the god must think of himself as better than a child's play-toy. Surely, the god must have some shred of dignity left. So it didn't exactly surprise him that the god did not show an ounce of fear, specially now that he was informed of the fact he wouldn't die. 'Build up trust, maybe. Then make it all the more painful when I don't need him any more.' His thoughts however, decided otherwise. Oh how lonely he would be, when there was no single deity, god or devil, alive any more. It was a thing he did not want to admit, a thing that would let the other beings in his body despise him more. Thankfully they could not directly interact with his thoughts, and so he was spared of any ridicule. But he still felt pathetic, feeling such mortal emotions as loneliness. If the god were to know, would he laugh at him? Most likely, would have to smash his head into a wall then. Curious of the reaction, the deity turned to Fumus, only to give him yet another toothy grin. “Tell me, do you feel loneliness?” It was less a simple question than an absolute must to know. He did in fact not know if gods had the same emotions as devils, or if they were completely lacking those. Fumus would be of great use. Whether it was learning about gods or simply having someone to talk to, or even someone to help him. He was going to be helpful, if he wanted to be or not. His gaze drifted over to a body nearby. Something like an angel? With a morbid sense of curiosity, he grabbed the body and dragged it closer, just so he could 'play' a bit with the ripped apart body. It was becoming quite obvious, there was something childish about him. He mainly blamed it on the mixture of beings inside him, their personalities and traits mixing to create him. In the past, there was no way he would get his hand anywhere near an already rotting corpse. But now, it was just not phasing him. It was just a body, nothing more, nothing less. He seemed somewhat bored with the god now, concentrating more so on plucking out random feathers from the badly damaged wing. Not wanting to stop, he simply continued staring at his 'work' with a frown. “Is there even such a thing as loneliness for gods? Do you even FEEL?” He chuckled a bit, adding some sense of offence to the last word. As if he had any real feelings of regret or pity left that were his, and not the other ones messing with him. There was still a plea inside him, begging him not to hurt the god.   To spare him. But that's what he was doing, right? “Don't you think I'm being awfully kind to someone like you? The least you could do is thank me.” It was an apology he did not expect to get though, mainly because the god seemed anything but thankful.

Using his powers to toss the body of the broken angel against a wall, a splatter being heard, he rested his face on one of his bloodied claws. He seemed more and more bored by the minute, being quiet mostly before beginning to smile again. Seemingly he found more things to ask the god. “I have heard you are quite the miserable god, a real sad sack. So then, you probably do have real feelings.” He noticed the rose again. “Not that I think your little deal with that fucking flower was fake. Just saying, I wouldn't assume you had feelings other than for Satanick.” Ah yes, speak of the devil, the cries got louder. Had to drown that out somehow. It was getting annoying. Mumbling, the deity rubbed his head. “Not gonna hurt him.”

He eyed his bloody hand, having successfully rubbed some of the angels leftovers in his hair. Fuck that. Glancing at the god again, he tried pinpointing the others feelings. Well, he looked annoyed. He looked tired, and beaten and bruised. But mostly fucking annoyed. What would help an annoyed as fuck god? Did he even KNOW anything about the god?.... There was one thing he knew about said god. It wasn't hard to tell, but he was definitely a smoker. So the deity got up with a “Wait here”, making his way towards one of the rooms, he didn't return for a bit, but what was the other gonna do? Crawl his way to freedom? Hardly. When he returned, he held something in his hands, but hid it behind his back, similar to how a child would. He sat down next to Fumus once more, before pulling out a lighter and some somehow still in tact cigarettes. “Look what I found. Somehow not burned to a crisp.” He looked at the lighter, throwing it away, before shoving a cigarette at the other. As soon as he took a hold of it, Ivlis used his flame magic to ignite the cigarette, before getting one himself. “There, now we can have a civil conversation like normal people and you can ….” He snorted. “'Pretend' that everything is normal.”

[shittestdevils-blog]

shit, he really did it this time dident he? and of all things to do- he ran the moment he seen a chance from the other and he dident even know why he did had it gotten too much for this time? maybe, maybe not   slowing down Satanick breathed heavily as he felt his legs starting to drag under him before he soon fell a weak hand lifting to his face after he just managed to prop himself on his elbows, pulling back his hand, purple eyes squinting at the fresh blood on his hand   [still bleeding… damn it, what is even wrong with him?] thinking to himself he is struggling to push himself from the ground, even feeling a bit woozy [too much blood loss, I need to get somewhere…]

[teufelderflammen-blog]

There was something like a game that could be played with Satanick. He thought long and hard about just killing the devil, fully taking his power like he did with the other one. Satanick, after all, had always been an annoying branch of Ivlis life, leading him to despise the other without much room for any kinder feelings. And because he was such a bad impact on his life, as if said life wasn't bad enough already, he just couldn't bring himself to kill the other. Not because of pity or consideration, but because no matter how painful it'd be, Satanick's death would not make up for all the times he had been tortured, abused and used by the pitch world devil. And so, the choice was easy. Keep him alive and make the remnants of his existence as painful as possible. And the range of torture he could put the other through was rather huge. But there were certain things he aimed for. Turning his followers against him, didn't work out that well. Killing them however got a rather pained reaction out of the curly horned man. Thankfully Satanick wasn't that much of a strong willed person. Press the right buttons and make sure it hits close to home, and one got perfect reactions. And there was one thing he had done right, without any inspiration. Turning the Devil's elder brother against him. Of course, the other didn't know about Satanick still being alife, nor did he need to. But it was important to make sure the devil could see every ounce of pride leave the god, him slowly turning into Ivlis' right hand man. And well, more than that. Hitting painfully close to home, definitely. But in the end, Satanick would not stop struggling. Which was good, it really was! Because a toy that won't struggle was simply boring to the flame deity. And of course he expected him to run. What else would he do. He even left him an opening, a small chance to take. It was like a game. The devil would run, Ivlis would let him drag himself through the castle a bit, giving him the idea that MAYBE, MAYBE he can escape...... Just to appear right behind him. “Trying to run from me, Satanick?” He said, making sure to address the other properly. Who KNEW how badly his brain was damaged from all the beating he received already? Perhaps he would not be even able to tell if someone talked to him, unless they made it clear by directly naming him. The fun of this game, pretending to be angry, pretending to be hurt or even upset with him... It was like training a dog. A really stupid dog at that. But how considerate he was, not leaving Satanick to rot, not letting his brain melt away in his horribly useless head. “You know, just as I was thinking of letting you see your brother....” And punishment, that was important. Making sure the other knew exactly how badly he fucked up by trying to run, even if it was a set up. He leaned down slightly, grabbing the devil by one horn and dragging him up. “Red suits you nicely, don't you agree? For now it's only patches, but I can change that.”

[fumus]

Pain flared in his body.  It erupted from every wound, and yet there was still a sense of numbness to it all.  It must have been the god’s body’s way of combating the pain – the act of self-preservation at work.  However, Fumus knew that it would do him no good at this rate.

It didn’t matter how much he tried to fight against it, and despite that he would continue to do so.

The shadow of the flame devil shrank back as he took a step away from him.

Purple eyes full of malice simply glared up at the monster as he spit a little of his own blood onto the barren land of Pitch World. How often had it continued this vicious cycle?  Time and time again the battered earth became barren and he had been there to witness them all.  “Did you think I’d cower before you?  I’m nothing like them.”

If someone cut off his head, he’d make sure that it rolled over and bit them in his last moments of life.  That is what kind of person Fumus was.

A perfect opportunity.  He had the best opportunity to attack the devil, and yet his body felt as though it was made of the heaviest substance known to man.  The deity tried with all of his might to lift his limbs but all he could manage was a fidget of the fingers.

Damn it all.

A present?  He didn’t like this at all.  The god’s body stiffened, expecting anything at this point. Was he going to get struck again?  Was the devil going to off him?  Had his thoughts truly been reduced to such…weakness?  These were thing that they would think. Thoughts of his captives… his pets.

Tired eyes, riddled with bags narrowed in disgust momentarily before they shifted to see what the devil pulled from his pockets. “So, that’s it…” Fumus’ eyes shifted from it for a moment upon realizing what it was.

The bottle was shoved in his face, taunting, teasing him with the last of what remained of his brother. Fumus looked conflicted for a moment.  His pride told him that he should say no, that he shouldn’t take a pathetic bribe from this piece of shit.  That would make him look like a fool.  It would make him look twice as pathetic as he had.

Then again, what god was he now?

The other part wanted him to take it, wanted him to reach out and grab it.  It wanted him to save what was left of his dear brother.  It would last longer than that decaying arm in his lap.

And so, with what remaining strength he could muster, he tried to snatch it away only to have it taken away.

“Damn it…” His voice was tired as he winced in pain.

Crunch!  Just like that, the last semblance of his brother seeped back into the earth.  The deity looked down at the spiraling vines that curled around the devil’s shoe like beautiful snakes.  The plants he had seen many times.  The plants he would see no more…and still, despite his sorrow, the god could not force himself to cry.

It had been hard for him to feel any emotions.  Growing cold over the eons had made him a sociopath by nature, harder and harder to reach the little empathy that deemed him anywhere near human.  His tears were silent and his sorrow dull, but it was sorrow all the same for him, as intense as he could feel anything.

Purple roses sprouted from the vines, vibrant and delicate, like his brother’s sense of sanity and fragile feelings.  Roses always did remind him of his brother. Beautiful, fragile, easily damaged…Trembling a little from the emotion he felt, the god hunched over and screwed his eyes shut.

Even now, he couldn’t cry.

“…” Fumus didn’t answer that question.  He didn’t care to tell him whether or not he was his brother’s favorite.  He wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that Ivlis wouldn’t kill him, either.  Half of him wanted it, no matter how pathetic of a death he would have the prospect always seemed pleasing.  To be relieved of eons of suffering made him feel a sense of peace.  It had been far too long since he had a proper reset.

Reaching out, the god took one of the roses, feeling the velvet petals against his blood-stained hands. “Brother…” This too, would die and that he knew too well but, he wanted to keep it with him. Fumus wanted a piece of Satanick, a semblance of his feelings.  It was as if he held a piece of his heart in his hands.

His head snapped up as the unstable devil proceeded to viciously tear the petals from the vines, dispersing them everywhere. Torn pieces of purple fluttered through the air as Ivlis continued to rip at them, driven by an unforeseen madness that stirred within him.

“Love? Is that what I felt?” The god looked down at the one rose he managed to save.  He knew it was what he felt, but he would never admit that to Ivlis.  It was a strange kind of love, but it was that nonetheless.  Satanick was his favorite, he adored him, and despite his manipulation there was a degree of genuine emotion that went into their relationship.

The deity smiled bitterly.  “Did you think I wouldn’t know they’d betray me?  Why do you think I held such a tight leash on them? Do you think a god doesn’t know his own creations? I know them all too well.”

That is why Fumus kept them in line.  It’s why he felt the need to administer corporal punishment to them.  If he didn’t beat them into submission then they would all rebel or leave him like Nadine did.  The only reason that they didn’t was because they knew they could not defy a god.

Fumus was no idiot, and as much as he didn’t like the fact, he never denied that it wasn’t reality.

[teufelderflammen-blog]

There was something definitely interesting about the god. Whether it was the pitch devil's feelings mixed in with his own, or simply the way the other just refused to give up his petty and cocky behaviour, it was interesting. Oh so very interesting. For a moment the devil like deity thought about what to do. He genuinely felt like he had no idea. Of course, the original plan, killing and taking Fumus power, the last deity to survive before Siralos, was a PLAN at least. But he didn't feel like doing that at all. In fact, he felt like letting the other live. Again, unsure whether Satanick had a hand in what he felt, if he even felt anything at all, he turned to see the God hold the last rose. One he hadn't brutally torn apart. He knew fully well, this one would rot as well. In a land of flame and heat, flowers wouldn't exactly have much will nor chance to survive. Either it burned, or it would rot away.

However he couldn't help but notice a small detail, something one would usually miss, something his past self would be too stupid to pick up. The god actually showed some sort of emotion. Yes, deep down, the way he looked at that dirty little rose, the last remnants of his horrid brother.... there was some sort of emotion there. He chuckled at that, not caring if he confused the god. “So you're not as stoic as I thought.” He listened to the other talk once more, thinking of his subordinates. He hadn't exactly been keeping them in line... Now of course, he would weed out the idiots who were in his way, only keeping around his closest subordinates. But in the past? Yes, he had definitely been more than just an idiot. A thick headed fool. His heart aching slightly, he thought about just ripping the damned thing out. There was pain, not his pain certainly, and emotion, also not his. But if he were to get rid of it....What would he do with it? Gift it to his daughter, to play with? Gift to his daughter to play with. Yes. He turned to look at the god once more, grinning widely. Of course! He didn't have to kill him. Not at all. What better way to bring down a god than to turn them into a silly little play thing? A toy?

Something nobody would respect... Did he not want to kill him? The deity wasn't exactly pissing him off like the others did. Perhaps he had just lost all feelings of hatred....No, that wasn't right. He did hate the sun god, did he not?... It didn't matter. It didn't matter one bit. Poemi had become bored of playing with her 'toys'. And a god was no ordinary thing, specially not the god of the pitch world. Poemi would enjoy such a gift. He had never exactly been that good of a father, but ever since he had been taking the souls of the other devils and gods, their feelings of pity mixed with his and he had begun to pay closer attention to his child, his only daughter. He had become rather close to her, his little daughter. “Pray tell, are you good with children? Probably not, you're probably awful with them....” He laughed, almost sounding like a normal being, not an utterly insane mess. “But that's fine, you won't need to be. She isn't that picky.” Walking over, the demonic being grabbed Fumus by the hair, dragging him forward and along with him, ignoring the god mostly. Maybe this guy would proof to be useful. Usually he wasn't fond of anything having to do with Satanick, especially not his brother of all people. But he was already feeling a connection to the pathetic god. But there needed to be some rules, some alterations, if he was going to gift this god to his daughter. Ideas started popping up like bubbles in his head, ideas of using the god to his advantage. Surely, he would be more than helpful when it came to tricking, fighting and killing Siralos. If Poemi didn't want him, he could still keep the deity around. He was, to put it simply, rather lonely. People like Emalf weren't exactly good company, specially not if they were shitting their pants every time Ivlis so much as looked at them. Dragging the god through the ruins of the castle he had lived in, he eventually stopped by a pile of bodies, tossing the other on there, before simply plopping down on the floor. “So. I have been thinking. And I have decided something for myself.”

“I won't kill you.”

[teufelderflammen-blog]

STARTER CALL

gotta leave in three days so I better get busy LIKE/REBLOG FOR A STARTER

[teufelderflammen-blog]

@sine-misericordia + @unforsakenhero

More Pangea Art

[sine-misericordia--archive]

So many bodies had littered the ground.  He could still smell the stench of decay, and at this rate he couldn’t tell if it was from his devil or the sheer atmosphere of his decayed empire.

There was a vast army, bigger than he could have imagined.  Then again, of course they would follow someone like Ivlis. They probably had no choice other than to die.  Any same creature would rather turn the other cheek than die.

The dawn of the flame devil was upon him, and the deities were powerless to do anything against it, even someone as powerful as him.

A god in shambles so bad that even mortals would laugh in his face.  It was a day that the Pitch God never thought that he would see.  

It was all hard to face.

Fumus knew that he had fallen from grace at this point.  There was no denying the truth that had been infront of his very eyes.  The only thing he could do is defy Ivlis from his shackles and not give the devil what he wanted so easily. Defiant until the end.  That’s what Fumus was going to be.  Even if Ivlis had Pitch World in his grasp, Fumus wasn’t going to just bend over and take it from him.

Those he had a tight leash on now spat in his face. Those he called subordinates chose opportunity over loyalty.  Perhaps, in the end his leash was too tight.  Of course they would betray him.  They were probably waiting with baited breath to stab him in the back…just as things had been before.

Twisted smiles, mocking him, cold eyes beating down upon him with the steely gaze he had once given him.  Heretics and blasphemers. Those who would defile their god in such a way.

Fools that allowed themselves to be tempted by the devil’s power.

Then again, even now they were in a better position than he was.  The god looked down at his devil’s severed arm in his lap.  The sickening smell of decay and roses lingering, sinking into the abused fabric of his clothes.

The word he once knew was now consumed by fire and brimstone as flames scorched everything in sight.  It had reminded him of the past, when Pitch World had been reduced to a barren land.

Now it was happening once more.

The once cloudy skies were lit up with fire.  The clouds were a brilliant orange and all of the rainbows had dematerialized into nothing.  The once cheery façade of heaven had fallen to ruin.  His empire burnt to the ground. Heaven was on fire.

He could feel the eyes of the devil on him, gazing down on his battered form as he held what was left of his brother in his hands.

It was a harsh reminder of the bitter reality that had befallen Pitch World.  A cold, dead feeling that manifested inside of him.  The man in which he shared a soul, an intricate bond was gone.  It was something the deity felt within him, a certain instability.

“…” The god didn’t dignify his question with an answer. Like hell he was going to give him the time of day.  

Hated? No…He could never say that he hated Satanick.  Of course not, they were more than god and devil.  They were brothers…brothers who shared a deep bond that no one could understand.  

Even if he would deny it at times, the devil was special.

Devils and gods were no created to exist together and yet he and Satanick defied expectation.

‘You did HATE him, right?’

Those words made him flinch.  He knew the basic logic that devils and gods had.  Nearly all of them hated each other, and his relationship with Satanick was somewhat good…

Who was he kidding?

His brother was dead.

Staring up at the devil, Fumus caught the flicker of Ivlis’ irises.  They changed to a familiar color.  

Was that?

Could it be?

The next words he spoke caused the god’s attention to be placed solely on him.  That voice. The voice that Fumus didn’t think he’d hear again rushed back to his senses and filled him with nostalgia.

His jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed. A swift blow landed on his stomach, nearly causing him to vomit.  Gasping, the god coughed.

“I…” He wanted to speak more, but ended up gasping and choking on the contents in his throat. “He’s…”

Blow after blow assaulted his stomach, shaking his body with each thump he felt in the pit of his stomach.  Fumus was tempted to grab Ivlis’ foot but right now his reflexes weren’t quick enough since he’d exhausted his powers fighting against Ivlis.  Right now, defiance wasn’t something he could muster up even if he so chose.

“Satanick is…He didn’t…”

Again and again the blows came.  Fumus couldn’t get any more words in edgewise before the devil pulled away and looked down on him with discontent.  The god panted and stared down at the blood that compiled below him.

“No way in hell I’d ever beg you.  No matter how much you try to beat it into me, I’ll never listen to someone like you.  You can put glitter on garbage but it’s still garbage.”

‘Right, Fumy?’

Those words cut through him like a ho blade, and all the god could do was clench his eyes shut and wish for that familiar voice to rid itself of his mind.

“Even if he’s dead, Satanick knows what we’ve done..I don’t have to tell you his significance to me.  We’ve never…had to speak about such things.”

[teufelderflammen-blog]

He was rather fond of what had become of this world. Many worlds had changed to something he preferred, but the fall of pitch world was still his favourite. Clenching his fists, he thought about the one he did this for. The one he wanted so badly to just be dead already. He wanted to show him how he wasn't needed. Nobody needed the Sun in a world of Flame. Nobody needed anything other than Ivlis, because Flames could light up the dark just as good as the sun could. That's what he thought. That's what he believed. The voice of the flame devil returned as he stepped away from the god.

“Oh my, Oh my. Aren't you all high and mighty.” He laughed, looking satisfied at the bruises starting to appear on the body of the god, that could be seen where clothe had torn.

But he wasn't going to let him off the hook just yet. Turning away from the god, knowing well he wouldn't be able to get up any ways, as weak as he was... He started rummaging through his pockets, trying to find something. “Well...” he began, drawing out the word as his voice shifted again. Like a chorus of all the devils he had murdered, he continued speaking in a sing song voice. “I've got another present for you! Nearly forgot about this one...” Turning back to the weakened deity, he approached him at a slow pace, pulling something out of his pockets. Waving a little container of some sorts in front of the god, he chuckled. “Look at this, that's rather interesting isn't it?” It took a second to come into focus properly, as the Devil pushed the bloody container closer at the deity. “Do you want it? I have no use for it. Wanted to take some though...as a souvenir. After all, the arm really was least broken thing I could find of him.” More laughter, taunting.

Then he quickly removed his hand, before the other could even grasp the container. “Actually, I'd rather keep it. Some sort of good luck charm. Though coming from that guy I guess it's more of a bad luck charm. Whatever, I don't need luck anyways.” He threw the container on the floor, crushing it with his foot. Boots stained in bright purple, the color was somewhat soothing if it weren't for the context it was presented in. Slowly, plants started curling around the devils Shoe. He removed it, letting the plant grow out properly as it showed it's beauty through purple colored roses. “Disgusting things. But interesting non the less. They don't exactly need the SUN to grow.” Was he talking to the deity or just to himself? Either way, he was rambling.

Looking over to the god, he wasn't sure if he was just checking if he were still there or still alife. “To be quite honest, I don't even know what to DO with you. You were his favourite, weren't you?”

“Satanicks Brother. I should kill you right here, right now, but that wouldn't be very fun.” “And it would satisfy him.” He added that mumbling to himself. Humming, he began to shift slightly as he leaned to look at the roses. “That's the only thing of him still alive.” Grinning, he looked over at the slowly closer drawing flames. Truthfully, that was not the only thing left of the Pitch Devil. Deep inside himself, he heard the devil screaming, scratching and pulling at his head and hair, trying to do something, anything, not wanting to see his Brother get hurt further. It pissed Ivlis off. It disgusted him, but what made it worse is the other devil's feelings spreading through his body. Regret, guilt. Sadness. And he couldn't help but start laughing again, ignoring the god for now as he ripped one rose off of the weirdly shaped plant, beginning to rip off petal after petal, keeping himself busy as he thought about what to do with the god. “If you didn't hate Satanick... Did you like him then? Maybe...love him? Must be bad...” The childish voice returned, mocking him.

“It was fun you know. Lining up his subordinates and killing them one by one. Seeing him get hysterically until he finally accepted what happened had to happen. They were all so stubborn too, non of them volunteered to betray him. Your subordinates however. They greeted me with open arms. Must feel really shitty having that kind of folk around. But don't worry. I got rid of them all. Every single one.”

[teufelderflammen-blog]

Literally hides in a trash can.

[teufelderflammen-blog]

Anon doesn't feel shame and is curious why you are kinda scared of Licorice?

“He...get’s rather violent...what if one day he decides to abandon hate me ....”

[teufelderflammen-blog]

SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH.

“PRAAAAAAIIIISEEEE THE SUNNNNNNNN, PRAISE GOOOOOD...” He’s crying.

[teufelderflammen-blog]

Licorice or Poemi

What a horrible fucking question.What a TERRIBLE TERRIBLE QUESTION.YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED ANON.

“Licorice....kinda scares me so....P...Poemi...I guess..” He mumbles, very quietly.

[teufelderflammen-blog]

Satanick or Siralos please

“As said I would never-”Oh god... He’s there again, scratching at the door.

“Y-YOU KNOW WHAT I CHANGED MY MIND GO LORD SIRALOS GO THE SUN GEE I SURE LOVE THE SUN PLEASE HELP ME FATHER.”

[teufelderflammen-blog]

Reficul or Siralos?

“What a terrible question, I would NEVER pick Siralos. Never. Ever. That guy can explode into a million fucking pieces, I wouldn’t care. I’d rather pick Reficul.”

Make my muse chose between two people. ANY TWO PEOPLE.

[teufelderflammen-blog]

“…Y…You. Uhm…Will you leave.,.If I play?” He kept backing away, there was definitely something really wrong with Satanick. More so than usual.

[shittestdevils-blog]

“eh? leAve? whY would I do thAt?” he is giggling again, oh it must be another game the he wanted to play as well! how fun!    “oh my sweet lovely cutie Ivlis-Roachy-Chan~ you know I’ll alWays stay with me belOved onE~!” happy laughter, truly happy smile… but so distorted with how he was seeing it all   Ivlis how can you not see how much of a shell he once was, you being the reason? for it…     how every pathetic of the pitch black devil

[teufelderflammen-blog]

“...Satanick...” Gross. Why was he acting like this? Was he going to hurt him? “You should...go home,go home yes. Go sleep some.Go to your wife. Something like that....Yeah?” He was getting more than a little uneasy.

[shittestdevils-blog]

@teufelderflammen

“n— n- nO…?” the pocky falling from his mouth he looks honestly distraught, stepping closer with every movement Ivlis backed away, the box of more of the treat in his now shaking hands

[teufelderflammen-blog]

“...Y...You. Uhm...Will you leave.,.If I play?” He kept backing away, there was definitely something really wrong with Satanick. More so than usual.

[teufelderflammen-blog]

he has pocky now in his mouth and is attempting to get the other to play said game with him

Instinctively moves away.“N...No.”

[teufelderflammen-blog]

“Wh...What’s going on...”