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inhuman-obey-me · 9 months

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True Forms: Sides + New Characters

Once upon a time, long, long ago, we wrote some true demon forms for the demon brothers. And we had so much fun with it that we've returned with a follow-up! Now featuring not only demons but also some angels, a reaper, and one immortal "human" sorcerer.

No in-between forms for MC's sake this time though -- we die like men being driven mad by unspeakable, incomprehensible horrors.

Like before, content warning for unsettling, eldritch descriptions and body horror.

DIAVOLO

The Crown Prince of the Devildom doesn't often go into this true form -- it's incredibly dangerous, and if you see it, you might as well already be in your grave.

The first thing that hits you is the scent of sulfur and burning, so strong that you feel like you're choking on it, suffocating even though there's no smoke to be seen.

There is, however, plenty to be seen of him, as his form is utterly massive -- every direction you look, he seems to stretch infinitely around you, no end in sight to his immense presence.

To his sides, sparks and flashes of gold and darkness alternately flicker off of black flame wings as they languidly float back and forth behind him, singeing the very air they occupy.

The rest of his body mostly transforms into that of a dragon, much like the ornament you normally see upon his chest, covered in brilliant triangular golden scales except for the glowing red orb at his center.

The orb pulses like a heartbeat, and in it, you see yourself -- no, rather, you see a distortion of yourself, all the corruption and cruelty that hides in your very core laid bare before your eyes.

Meanwhile, fire roars everywhere, filling every open space around him and spiraling into a grand crown upon his head.

Despite the noise of the flames, however, his commanding voice can be heard clearly, a low rumble like the roar of a dragon yet distinctly regal and elegant in its tone.

On his chest, the black marks you see in his more humanoid demon form expand and twist outward, hypnotizing you as they wrap like vines around your body.

You hardly even notice as they capture you in a world of complete darkness -- darkness that overtakes not just your senses, but your mind, your soul, your whole existence, like a fire that burns away everything until there's nothing left in you but the abyss, all else turned to ash.

BARBATOS

To witness the true form of the ever loyal and capable steward to the Crown Prince of the Devildom, your fate is already sealed -- one of demise and ruin.

His body shifts and stretches, and stretches, and s t r e t c h e s -- you cannot see where, or if, he ever ends -- like time itself.

His body resembles that of a dragon -- though not the same of his master, but those creatures known across the human world as the lóng, the ryū, the druk, the nāga.

His face blurs, rots, melts -- bits of bone showing through flesh and one eye now just an orb of empty, everlasting black.

The spindly, web-like horns that grace his head grow thicker and longer, the talon-like ends even sharper than before.

Whiskers sprout from his face that are slick and forked at the ends, like his more humanoid-demon form tail, an electric buzz sparking at the end of them.

The scales along his body are black and teal, that familiar lightning pattern reflected in some while you catch glimpses of other universes as they gleam.

It is then that you notice you are slowly being buried in sand -- it cascades off his body, from the ridges in his back and gaps between those captivating scales.

Time itself seem to distort around him as he swims in the air, the very fabric of space rippling and warping against his form.

When he opens his mouth to roar, all that can be seen is a void of space inside, an all-consuming black hole.

There is an awfully maddening absence of sound, the very weight of silence seemingly suffocating and crushing you as you try to gasp for air.

The longer you stare into his face, his form -- the more you get lost and trapped across universes, seeing every branch of time lay itself out before you, over and over and over and over...

Your soul will be trapped forever in that endlessness, true death never taking hold as no reaper can ever reach you to claim it.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Every ghost story about haunted suits of armor originates from the true form of Mephistopheles.

In this form, he truly represents his noble heritage as proud knights tasked with defending the royal family -- grand, intimidating, gallant.

From afar, he seems exactly like those stories, an empty suit of golden armor with eerie peridot green lights glowing as eyes through the helm.

Atop this helm, a showy plume of magenta feathers swoops in a proud arc, and from his back, a grand set of opalescent, translucent feathered wings stretches impossibly wide.

Each flap of these wings creates torrential whirlwinds, tornadoes that tear destructively through entire cities in their path, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Up close, however, it becomes clear that the armor is hollow because he is the armor -- though he usually keeps most of them closed for protection, eyes of green and magenta can emerge all over the gleaming metal plates.

Also dotting the plates are various gems and precious crystals, embedded throughout as if daring someone to come close enough to try to steal them, tempt them as demons so notoriously do.

Every movement, too, deafens with the cacophony of jewels crashing against coins, ringing out for miles and miles around him.

Looking upon this form always makes you feel slightly off, as though he's not standing quite straight, which in turn makes you feel slanted as if constantly slipping down sideways.

However, it's best not to look at all, as gazing upon him melts your flesh away to pools of thick, smooth black ink which indeed would make you slip and fall.

Before one would fully melt away, he opens up to consume any potential wearer of the armor, crushing them inside and using their bones to reinforce the strength of the metal.

Because of this, streaks of ink are always running down the seams where the armor opens, dripping endlessly in deep pools everywhere he goes.

LUKE

Before Luke descends as an angel, a soft smell of grassy sunlight fills the air, and you feel a gentle breeze pick up alongside you.

The sound of bells chimes softly as if rung by this breeze, though no bells can be seen.

Slowly, bursts of tiny stars shimmer into view as if creating a veil from which the angelic child steps forth.

Once he has appeared, the stars gather in small clusters, dancing around him as if engaged in a waltz.

Being a lower-ranking angel still, his form is generally humanoid and looks much like the Luke you know and love.

However, his shape looks more unstable at the edges, buzzing and shaking like a Chihuahua.

Though most of him is covered up by his Celestial garb, you notice eyes peeking out from between the folds, gazing up at you unblinkingly, staring right into your soul.

The eyes on his face, on the other hand, remain peacefully closed, as though you're looking upon a child asleep.

As he delivers his message, the scent of wheat and honey drifts from him, filling the air around you.

Although this form does no harm to you to look upon, you get the distinct feeling that you would fall into endless despair if you were to fail him.

Michael likes to send him to would-be runaways for this reason.

RAPHAEL

Though he may be the youngest of the seraphs, his form is no less grand and imposing.

You hear him before you see him -- the melody of a flute, a tintinnabulation, mixed with an enchanting voice singing words in a tongue you cannot comprehend.

Six large wings surround him, feathers light grey with the same iridescent sheen found on those of homing pigeons, spanning far and wide.

Where his face might be instead are twisting golden rings filled with eyes, swirling in a mesmerizing pattern that captivates you.

His arms, too, are made of a stack of metallic rings that mirrors armor, though no flesh resides within them, and interlock with the shapes of diamonds and spades.

Various chimes hang off like tassels at various points along those metallic arms, ringing endlessly.

In place of his torso is an opalescent crystal ribcage, though there are no organs for it to protect.

A number of spears, pointing downward and outward, fan around his bottom half, with needles circling golden thread around the spear "boning" -- making his bottom half resemble a cage hoop skirt.

Above the swirling rings of his face rests a halo, made up of floating spear tips, sharp and deadly.

And behind him, around him, are more rings that are linked in circles like an atom, so numerous that they are reminiscent of chainmail, all while swirling at dizzying speeds.

Surreal light emits from every element of his form -- every ring, every feather, every pointed end -- giving him an unsettling and ethereal glow.

Anger him in this form, and the mix of melodies becomes mind-numbingly discordant and cacophonous while numerous spears glisten with their sharp ends pointed towards you, ready to strike.

SIMEON

When Simeon was a seraph, his form shared a number of features with that of Raphael's: twisting golden rings for a face, an iridescent crystal ribcage, the stacks of rings for arms, and that surreal, unsettling light emitting from every element.

However, his form differed greatly as well -- his halo was actually an ouroboros, dotted with eyes peering into your very soul and lined with large, long spikes.

His six wings were not made of feathers but of fire, their flames a striking and dangerous blue -- four flanking his back, while the other two surrounded his head of twisting rings, protecting his face with their chaste embers.

His "legs" were composed of crystal shards, slowly twisting and catching the light to create a constant prismatic display.

Past the faint crackling of flames and metallic sonority, you could hear a soft and distant harp that lulled the senses.

His seraph form somehow evoked both a sense of serenity and a gnawing, unnerving sense of dread.

Since his demotion to archangel, however, his form is a bit different -- more telluric, more humanoid, with wings more traditionally white and feathery at his back.

The delicate music of the harp that used to accompany him is gone, now replaced by the brash announcement of trumpets.

His more exquisitely airy elements have become more earthen, those radiant crystal pieces composed now of jagged rock and gleaming metal instead.

So too do fragments of steel float around and over his right side, resting upon his shoulders like a cape flowing gracefully from shining pauldrons.

Drifting idly just past his fingertips, a sword rests across his form, long and thin, both a tool and yet inherently part of him, dancing easily at his command and always ready to strike.

Each metallic sliver is dotted with eyes, peering and watching over you, at once benevolent and yet you can feel them -- watching you, judging you, sharply observing every move you make.

Another eye watches as well, from above, gazing serenely from the center of a spinning seven-pointed star which serves as his head.

There are no other facial features to speak of, but the look in that single blue orb expresses all there is to understand.

Though his voice rings clear in your mind with any message he may have from above, you can see your fate clearly from the moment your eyes connect with his gaze.

THIRTEEN

As a reaper, there is no question of death's approach when Thirteen transforms into her true form.

You become aware of long, low bells in the distance -- for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

From the moment you hear that very first clang, you cannot move, an icy chill washing over you and leaving you frozen in place.

However, it is not fear that you feel, but instead an odd sense of peace that overtakes your mind and makes the world around seem distant and hazy.

All light fades from view except the eerie blue flame of the candle she carries in one hand, along with the vivid green fire that takes the place of one eye.

Through the flickering light, you can see where bones replace flesh -- a half jaw, a sharp cheekbone, a partially exposed ribcage.

Her other eye seems to become more reptilian in nature, scales surrounding her brow bone and the hollows of her cheeks, jagged and harsh.

Her teeth are sharp and large, the exposed jaw making it appear as if they are locked in a menacing grin.

Gauze wraps around her neck, dark ichor seeming to seep through it and drip onto her chest and into the hollow of her ribs.

She floats towards you, no legs to be seen as she rolls atop mist and fog that sprawls ever outward, reaching the edges of your vision.

Within that mist you catch a glimpse of fluttering iridescence -- butterflies, their wings part black and shining with opalescent darkness.

No longer does she wear the tattered black robes so often thought as the reaper's uniform -- instead, long pieces of black chiffon, tulle, and mesh twist around her form, giving the illusion of a cloak.

Long, sharp claws wrap around her scythe, its blade broad and keen -- but it shimmers in the light, its form malleable and able to transform into whatever the reaper so desires.

However she decides to capture your soul, the last thing reflected in your eyes will be the blue flame of the candle extinguished, its wax melted away with the end of your life.

SOLOMON

Hello, my adorable apprentice

What's wrong? Don't you recognize me?

It's me, Skeletiano Solomon

The true form of an immortal human sorcerer is...

Yeah this seems right

Right?

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some-cookie-crumbz · 5 years

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Howling at the Wind

Howling at the Wind - Kidge Month Day 30 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: Just some more really dumb, really cute domestic fluff. This time with 100% more Kosmo. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

She groaned and flopped over on to her back, tossing out an arm and grinning a bit when it slapped against another form, dragging a groan out of them. She pushed up before glancing briefly at the clock, startled to see the numbers “9:15” glaring at her. “Did you already go on your walk?” she mumbled softly, carefully pushing herself upright but making sure to keep her voice down. She stole a glance at the foot of the bed and noticed the large, blue lump of fur that was normally there was absent. Kosmo loved sleeping at the foot of their beds; even after walks, he’d come and nestle back down for a good long while.

The lump beside her mumbled something into the comforter that she couldn’t understand, though she did manage to understand “Too bad.”

“Mind repeating that for me?” she asked.

He grumbled, again, and it was just as articulate as his last try.

“Ah, riveting. Now can you maybe try saying it louder for the people in the back?” she teased, reaching over to lightly pinch his side.

He jolted and groaned loudly, lifting his head to pin her with a look. “I said the weather’s too bad,” he groused before they heard a sharp cry on the baby monitor next to the digital clock. They both tensed before slowly looking over at the black screen, a little green light blinking at the top.

She clicked the little ‘View’ button on the top and watched as the screen became illuminated, a little body highlighted in red squirming around in view. She watched as a blurred figure suddenly went flying over the top of the crib. Ah, so Amber was in a feisty mood this morning.

“Do you think that woke her up?” he asked, sounding completely mortified at the prospect.

“Doubtful; you weren’t that loud, Keith,” she scoffed, tossing the covers back and tossing her feet over the side of the bed. She stretched until her back gave a pleasing pop and then stood. Over the monitor, a loud, miserable wail resulted from the infant. “She’s probably just grouchy cause she normally wakes up with you for your walks. Oversleeping can do that to people. I’ll go get her.”

“I guess I’ll go start on some breakfast,” he mumbled as he pushed himself upright as well.

“I want either a smoothie or a coffee, too,” she hummed before heading out and down the hall. She was unsurprised to see Kosmo pacing in front of the baby’s door as her cries grew louder and more frantic. He knew better than to go teleporting in at his own will, though, which she was grateful for. “Aw, you hate when the baby makes sad sounds, don’t you, buddy?” she cooed, reaching out to give his head a quick pat.

He answered her with a low whine and anxious lick at her wrist.

When she pushed the door open, the whole room was cast in the faint blue glow of the nightlight still, and she could see little limbs flailing in the air savagely. “Doing some interpretive dance there, I see,” she mused, noticing Kosmo come darting in alongside her to sniff at the crib frantically. The sound of her voice cut the most recent cry off halfway through.

“Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma,” Amber suddenly shouted, sounding slightly less distressed.

“Yes, that’s right, I’m Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma,” she said, bobbing her head with the syllables as she walked over. In her crib, Amber rolled over on to her side, offering an almost bashful smile and giggle in response. “Oh, you’re cute.” She leaned in and picked her up, holding her close and landing a quick peck to the top of the tot’s head. And then, because she could see how the wolf was shifting anxiously on his paws, she held Amber down so he could get a better sniff at her. She squealed and patted at his muzzle. Seeming to take this as a good sign that she was, in fact, fine, he closed his eyes and wagged his tail for her.

She made quick work of getting her changed into a clean diaper and then made her way out towards the kitchen, Kosmo right on her heels.

“You know,” she trailed as she rounded the corner from the staircase, “I’m starting to think our dog is a little neurotic.”

Keith perked up from where he was putting chopped pieces of fruit into the blender. “Kosmo’s not a dog, Pidge; he’s a wolf,” he corrected bluntly.

“Okay, same difference,” she scoffed just before he turned the blender on. Amber shrieked loudly in delight at the sound of the device running as Pidge buckled her into her booster seat. “Think she can handle some scrambled eggs this morning?”

“Probably,” he said as he finished pouring the smoothies into their respective glasses. He then paused to peer out through the little window above the sink. “Man, it is looking ugly out there.”

“Is it?” she asked, leaning around her own seat to try and peer out the sliding glass doors. She scowled slightly before getting up and moving the blinds to get a better look. “Wow, it’s, like… almost kinda foggy out there.”

“It could be mist,” Keith suggested as he walked over, setting her smoothie down in front of her seat for her. He then paused to lean over and press a kiss to their daughter’s forehead. “Good morning, baby girl.” He hummed, playfully pinching the chub under her little chin. She squealed and squirmed at the attention, making grabby hands at him. Unable to resist, he unbuckled her to scoop her up and snuggle her closer.

“I suppose so. Just means we’ll probably be getting some rain later today,” she said before stepping away to settle back at the table. She paused when she spotted the empty seat and then pinned him with a quirked eyebrow. “Really? After I just buckled her in?”

He offered her a sheepish grin. “She wants to see how Daddy makes his famous scrumptious scrambled eggs,” he tutted before heading to the fridge. Seeming to sense the look of panic of his wife’s face to the prospect of their baby being near hot cooking utensils, he added, “Or, rather, she wants to see what Daddy uses. Once I’m actually cooking, she can go back and maybe have a Mommy milk appetizer.”

While Keith cooked, Pidge settled Amber in her arms to nurse. In the time it took him to get their breakfast put together, the rain had started a downpour outside. She peered outside as Keith reached out to take Amber from her. “Wow, it’s really coming down out there. I don’t blame you for skimping out on the exercise this morning,” she commented, pulling the strap of her breastfeeding tank top back into proper place.

“It obviously wasn’t this bad when I woke up, but it was starting to drizzle. For as much as I like the rain, I’m not going out to run in that. Or taking this itty bitty cutie patootie out in that,” he cooed, reaching over to squeeze one of Amber’s little feet. She giggled at him around her hand, which she’d been using to stuff egg into her mouth. “You are a tiny mess.”

“Want a napkin?” Pidge giggled as she watched them, reaching over and plucking one from the center of the table.

“Thanks,” he laughed, taking it from her. It was a bit of a fight to get Amber’s hand out of her mouth so he could wipe the drool and bits of egg off, but he managed. Just as he finished cleaning her up and moved to grab her little plastic spork, however, the lights flickered and a rumble of thunder loud enough to shake the house halted them.

They watched as Amber’s whole body tensed at the noise, little eyes wide, before they watered and she started to scream in fear.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Pidge cooed, scrambling to unbuckle her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Mommy and Daddy are right here, you’re safe.”

Amber shrieked even louder as she was carefully maneuvered out, another slightly less fearsome clap echoing overhead, and burrowed her face into Pidge’s shoulder the minute she could. Kosmo shoved his head up on Pidge’s lap, letting out a loud whine of his own, trying to lick at the toddler’s feet as his own show of comfort. Keith got up and moved over to them, giving Kosmo a quick pat on the head. “It’s okay, buddy. She’s just afraid of the loud storm,” he said, hoping to soothe the wolf. The last thing they needed was both of their beloved small creatures having a fit over the poor weather.

Kosmo blinked at him, golden eyes gleaming as if he understood, before he disappeared in a small, shimmering cloud. Keith and Pidge both blinked, wondering where he’d gone, before they heard loud, angry barking outside. “Um,” she trailed quietly, glancing over towards the sliding glass doors, where she’d pushed the blinds aside.

There, running back and forth like made, teleporting occasionally as well, was Kosmo, barking and snapping at the rain coming down.

“Oh, my God,” Keith breathed quietly.

“He’s barking at the storm for scaring her. He is literally running around out there, screaming at the sky! Like, ‘Hey! Knock it the Hell off! You are scaring my baby!’” Pidge laughed incredulously, gently rubbing their daughter’s back.

He looked from her to the wolf outside. “Oh, my God,” he said, the statement coming out as more of a small laugh of his own.

“Accept the fact that your cosmic wolf is more like a cosmic dog, babe,” she teased, carefully adjusting her grip on Amber as another rumble echoed above them. In response to the thunder, as if now personally offended, Kosmo’s barks grew louder and even more furious.

He let out a small sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Maybe you’re right,” he relented.

“It ain’t a maybe, baby,” she teased, winking at him.

He rolled his eyes. “If you say so,” he mumbled before heading back over and settling into the chair beside her. Amber turned her head to look at him when she heard the chair moving. He offered her a small smile before reaching out to gently wipe the tears off her chubby, red face.

Later on, when the thunder passed, Keith was tasked with drying Kosmo offer before he rubbed his wet dog smell on everything. Neither of them were surprised when, after being deemed safe for the furniture, the wolf curled himself up right against Pidge, letting his head drop into her lap so he could look at the Amber, as if needing to be sure she was still safe. The small tot babbled excitedly at him and squirmed until her Mommy set her on him. She belly flopped into his fur, letting her snuggle into him like a big, fluffy pillow. It didn’t take long before she dozed off and, seeing she was asleep, Kosmo curled a bit more snuggly around her, making sure her little head was still visibly but using his tail to cover her like a makeshift blanket. Pidge smiled and gently scratched behind one of his ears. “Good boy,” she cooed softly.

He blinked up at her before moving to give Amber’s head a little lick, settling in for a nap of his own.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #MonthofKidge #MonthofKidge2019 #KidgeaPalooza #KidgeaPalooza2019 #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

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