demon angela

The gist of Sweeney Todd
  • Mrs Lovett: Mrs Mooney puts her neighbour's cats into her pies
  • Mrs Lovett: wouldn't do in my shop
  • Mrs Lovett: just the thought of it's enough to make you sick
  • Also Mrs Lovett: we could put people in the pies though that's fine

anonymous asked:

if undertaker "cares" about our!ciel, then why do you think he is helping real!ciel?

It’s possible that his true wish is to ultimately help both of them.

He knows that (until the day the contract is fulfilled) he can put the earl through extreme hardship… and the demon butler will protect his master faithfully. As the end of the earl’s quest draws near, Undertaker will continue to test Sebastian’s abilities and contractual devotion. He will try to break that contract. He will eventually explain his motives in the hopes that the earl will choose *something* over this path to Hell.

Who knows? Maybe all this mystery surrounding John Brown is a red herring? Perhaps Undertaker fills the roll of Ash/Angela from anime s1 (and/or a parallel to Hannah from s2 in trying to reunite two brothers, even if that reunion is in death)….
What the demon AU?

Synopsis: Really, this thing is called “What the demon AU?” It bit me in the ass two days ago, and, well, enjoy Devil!Mercy and UnspecifiedDemon!Fareeha.

Pairing: Rocket Angel / Pharmercy (Fareeha “Pharah” Amari/Angela “Mercy” Ziegler)

Fareeha Amari leaned back in her chair, kicking dirty boots on top of her desk. Her helm lay on its side on the table, dog-like muzzle pointing at the door. She fiddled with the gauntlets of her suit, freeing them with a grunt and tossing them over her paperwork.

“Please, Fareeha.” Her partner scooted through the doorway, rear first, her arms full of medical supplies, the staff strapped to her back knocking the picture framed on the wall askew. “I spent a lot of time organizing those for you. I’d prefer not to deal with mud all over the files.” She dumped the supplies onto the couch in the cramped office, freeing her staff from its harness and propping it against the desk opposite Fareeha’s.

Obliging her, Fareeha withdrew her legs, rolling back the desk chair and stretching them out on the ground.

“Your gauntlets have blood on them.” Her partner had both hands on her hips, violet eyes trained on the black gauntlets that were, indeed, decorated with flecks of dried and not-so-dried blood. Sighing, Fareeha moved them to the edge of the desk next to her helm, trying to brush off the flecks of reddish brown on the stack of papers in front of her.

“Sorry,” Fareeha said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “It was a rough one, Ange. Could’ve used Mercy out there.”

Keep reading