#Trendy Mother's Day Nails

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Thigh Fucking~

this was a bit hard for me. i didn't want to go into too much detail on here, so i did what i always did. started a new au which leads up to it. i hope you like this. i think it might be one of my top five!

@adamsappleweek

Adam sighed, feeling the weight of the day in every bone and muscle. His body ached from hours spent hunched over his desk, fingers stiff from holding his pencil, eyes burning from the endless focus. Yet, he couldn’t stop. No matter how his body screamed for rest, he pushed forward. He had to. His future depended on it. This project was his golden ticket—if he could nail it, so many doors could open. This company, after all, was a titan in the industry, its designs coveted across the globe. Their releases caused a frenzy; people craved their issues like forbidden fruit.

There was a quiet pride in Adam’s heart, knowing they had chosen him, a humble dreamer with passion, not some polished, high-end designer with an inflated ego. He still remembered that moment like a first kiss—wide-eyed, fresh out of university, hardly daring to believe his luck when they offered him an internship. His hands had trembled as he signed the paperwork, tears of gratitude brimming in his eyes. He was the youngest, the least experienced, the intern who fetched coffee and sat in on meetings like a fly on the wall, but none of that mattered. He had one thing that couldn’t be taught: passion. And he poured every bit of it into his work, vowing he’d prove himself worthy. Design wasn’t just a job; it was his lifeblood, a legacy left by his mother.

Adam could still see her clearly in his mind—elegant and bold, a force of creativity, designing clothes that danced between classical beauty and daring adventure. She had been the leading lady of her fashion house, captivating the world until her tragic passing. Adam grew up idolizing her, dreaming of one day standing where she once stood, weaving his own designs into the tapestry of fashion. He had inherited her artist’s touch; he was sure of it. Now, it was his time to prove it.

The lamp on his desk flickered dimly, casting soft shadows in the nearly deserted office. The ticking clock felt like a countdown, each second urging him to make something extraordinary. Everyone else had long since gone home, but not Adam. He wasn't ready to quit. Not yet. This "scrap" project, tossed to him like table scraps, would be his masterpiece. Something that would make the seniors take notice, something more than just an intern running errands.

Adam’s emerald-green eyes gleamed as he turned his attention to Lilith Leonhart, the muse of his art. Lilith—one of the most stunning and sought-after models in the industry. She was perfection wrapped in golden silk, her icy blue eyes and flawless features etched into the minds of designers and artists everywhere. If he could design something that matched her beauty, something elegant yet unforgettable, he’d have a chance. He had spent hours sketching her, imagining her in every pose, every fabric, every colour, refining every line until his fingers cramped. Her pinups dominated the walls of the design department—lips parted in a coy smile, hair cascading in luxurious waves.

He had chosen a popular style—one that young people were wearing in droves, a look that blended sophistication with a pop of youthful energy. The outfit was sleek, tailored to perfection, a bold purple suit with sharp lines and subtle accents in green, blue, and pink. Purple, Adam thought, made Lilith's striking features stand out even more, her icy blue eyes practically glowing against the rich fabric. It was trendy, it was polished. Surely, this would catch someone’s eye.

Just as he was about to lean back and admire his work, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Purple has never been Lilith’s colour."

Adam jumped, nearly knocking his sketches to the floor. His heart skipped a beat as he snapped his head around to find Sera, the head of the design department, standing behind him. She was stunning in her own right, with long, thick curls in a striking blend of white and purple, her dark skin glowing in the soft light. Her features were sharp, almost regal, with a gaze that could cut through steel.

“O-oh? Excuse me?” Adam stammered, blinking in surprise.

Sera didn’t seem fazed by his reaction. She hummed softly, her long lashes fluttering as she examined his work. It was late, and she appeared to be on the verge of leaving, yet something had drawn her over to him. Her lips curled into a slight smile, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You're married to the work, just like me," she remarked with a cool chuckle.

"I... I just want to do the best I can," he confessed, voice softening. Adam flushed, his pulse quickening at her words. "I’m serious about this—about being a designer. Like my mother."

Sera's hum deepened, her eyes still on his drawings.

"I can see that. You’ve put your heart into these," she said gently, but there was something else in her tone, something that made Adam’s chest tighten. "But sometimes... effort isn’t enough."

Adam froze, her words hitting him like a splash of cold water. He swallowed hard, watching her as she tilted her head toward the wall of pinups—not just Lilith, but Eve Heather green, Lute Scar, Michael Morningstar. Each model radiated their own unique energy, their own style. They were all muses, not just Lilith, Adam realized.

“I remember when I was in your shoes,” Sera continued, her voice soft, yet filled with experience. “I wanted so badly to be like the senior designers, to mimic their success, to be noticed. But I had to learn something important—you don’t get noticed by doing what everyone else is doing. You get noticed by being yourself, by bringing something fresh, something that speaks you into the world."

Adam gazed across the room, at all the designs pinned up for inspiration. Lilith was everywhere, yes, but suddenly, he saw it—how uniform they all were. How... ordinary. His breath hitched as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Sera was right. There was nothing special about his designs. He had been following trends, regurgitating what had already been done. Nothing original.

"Take a break," Sera suggested softly. "Come back to it with fresh eyes. Don’t stay too late."

With one last encouraging smile, she turned to leave, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she walked away.

Adam watched her go, his heart sinking. His chair squealed as he swivelled back to face his desk, staring down at the sketches of Lilith. Slowly, his lips twisted into a frown, eyes flicking over the designs pinning around the office. All the same. All safe.

Without another word, he crumpled them up and tossed them into the trash. No, this wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed to dig deeper, to find that spark within himself, even if it meant creating something new, something risky. He wasn’t here to follow—he was here to lead.

With renewed determination, Adam stood up, ready to start over. He would create something different, something that would leave an imprint—not because it was what the world expected, but because it reflected the artist, he knew he could become.

Adam slowly climbed to his feet, the weight of the world resting heavily on his shoulders. His body felt stiff, but it was his mind that bore the real exhaustion. His thoughts, spinning in endless circles, needed clarity. He wandered around the design apartment, his fingers brushing lightly against the countless portfolios and framed issues that lined the walls. The models, captured in breathtaking poses, stared back at him—faces aglow with soft, luminous light. Every detail of these iconic covers was meant to catch the eye and hold it. The colors—cool, muted tones mixed with vibrant accents—made the models shimmer, like rare gems in the sea of high fashion.

Even the work of the senior designers, those whose approval he craved, had a consistency to it. They all pursued one ideal—polished, ethereal perfection. As Adam moved between the desks, his gaze fell on the work of the other interns, the sketches and color swatches they left behind. They too seemed caught in the same web, designing to a familiar formula, chasing the style that had already been deemed successful. A quiet frustration brewed in his chest. He thought he had been creating something fresh, something new, but now he saw how closely his work mirrored theirs. Too close. He was following, not leading.

Back at his desk, Adam tapped his fingers against the surface absentmindedly, slumping back into his swivel chair. What should he do? How could he stand out when everything he created looked like a reflection of what had already been done? He wanted to carve out his own path, just as his mother had. But what would she do? What advice would she give if she were still here?

His emerald eyes flicked across the scattered art supplies on his desk—cheap, store-bought tools that felt as disposable as his ideas. Then, his gaze settled on something different, something precious. In the corner of his workspace, tucked away but never far from his thoughts, was a small, sealed packet. His mother’s hand-me-down watercolors. They were all he had left of her. Adam had never dared to use them, too afraid of wasting the last remnants of her artistry.

Slowly, as if drawn by some invisible thread, he reached for the packet, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the lid. The worn edges were soft under his touch, and with a deep, steadying breath, he eased it closer. A small piece of his mother, something he had kept with him all this time but had never been able to fully embrace.

Breathing deeply, Adam carefully pulled the latch. The box opened with a soft click, revealing the pristine watercolors inside. But what caught his attention wasn’t the paints—it was a small, folded piece of paper tucked neatly inside. Frowning, he reached for it, curiosity and a hint of apprehension bubbling in his chest. Slowly, he unfolded the paper, his breath hitching when he saw his mother’s familiar, elegant handwriting.

“Adam,” the note began, the letters flowing smoothly, as if she had written them just yesterday. “I’m so proud of you, my love. I’ve always adored the little fashion designs you did for school. I could see even then that you had something special, a talent that would blossom into something extraordinary. I know you’ll grow into a wonderful designer, just like you’ve always dreamed.”

Adam’s chest tightened, and before he even realized it, tears welled in his eyes. His vision blurred as he read the last line.

“I love you so much.”

The tears slipped down his cheeks, unbidden, and he didn’t bother wiping them away. He’d tried so hard, poured everything he had into his work. But what if it was never enough? What if, despite all his efforts, he didn’t make it? The fear gripped his heart, squeezing tighter with every silent tear that fell. His breath came in shallow bursts as he stared at the note, his fingers trembling.

Then, as he folded the note over, he noticed something written on the back. Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, Adam carefully turned the paper over and read the words there. It was a quote, one that tugged at the corners of his memory. His mother had often said it to him when he doubted himself.

“Just be you, and everything else will fall where it should be.”

A soft sob escaped his lips, and he covered his mouth, trying to steady himself. Adam swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The words echoed in his mind, weaving through his doubt like a balm. His mother always knew just what to say to pull him out of the dark.

He stared down at the delicate watercolors for a few moments, his heart aching but also filled with warmth. She had believed in him, more than anyone else ever had. And if she had believed in him, then he had to believe in himself, too.

With gentle hands, he began to close the box, making sure everything was lovingly put away. But as he did, his gaze wandered to the walls again, to the faces of the models who hadn’t graced the big issues, the ones relegated to the sidelines. His eyes landed on Vagatha Luna, with her sharp, mysterious features, and Husker Card, with his brooding gaze. Then there was Anthony Dust, whose playful smirk seemed to challenge the status quo, and Alastor Shot, whose wild, untamed hair defied every convention but spoke so old fashioned.

And finally, Charlotte Haz, the sweetest person you’d ever meet. Adam chuckled softly, wiping his damp cheeks. Charlotte, with her golden hair and striking blue eyes, bore such a resemblance to Lilith and Michael that there had been rumours she was their daughter when she first debuted. For a brief moment, she had been the talk of the town, until the rumors were debunked, and her popularity plummeted. She had been cast aside, like so many others. The "hazbins," as people cruelly called them. Forgotten, rejected.

Adam’s fingers drummed softly against the edge of his desk as his mind began to wander. What if he didn’t follow the path everyone else was walking? What if, instead of chasing after the perfect, popular muses like Lilith, he turned his focus to the ones no one was paying attention to? The ones who had been cast aside, dismissed, overlooked.

He bit his bottom lip, a new spark of excitement flickering in his chest. Maybe that’s where his originality would come from—not by following the trends, but by embracing the forgotten, the misfits. They had stories, too. They had beauty that the world had turned away from. And maybe, just maybe, that was where he could shine.

Adam sat back, his fingers itching to grab his pencil again. He wasn’t just going to follow the crowd anymore. He was going to lead it in a direction no one else had thought to go. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make him stand out.

The following morning, Adam sprang from his bed before the shrill call of his alarm could even break the silence. Excitement pulsed through his veins, every inch of him buzzing with the creative fire that had ignited deep within his soul the night before. His mind raced with ideas as he leapt into the shower, the water cascading over his skin barely registering against the flood of inspiration that stormed through him. Today was going to be the day—the day he set the world ablaze with his designs, something fresh, something bold. His heart raced in sync with the images flashing in his mind.

He barely noticed the blur of the city as he dashed through the streets on his way to work. Coffee for the seniors, sushi for the team—it was all routine, but today everything felt different, sharper. The mundane tasks didn’t bother him, even as he juggled cups of steaming coffee and trays of sushi while dodging pedestrians. As he passed the old, dilapidated movie theater, its faded marquee hanging forlornly above, something about its crumbling grandeur caught his eye. He stopped for a beat, staring up at it as though it held a secret only he could decipher, before shaking his head with a smirk. Not today. Today, he had bigger dreams to chase.

By the time he arrived at the office, he was running late, and the seniors wasted no time reminding him. But instead of the usual flush of embarrassment, Adam simply grinned, an unshakable confidence burning in his emerald eyes. Sera, the head of design, who was known for her cool, unreadable expression, glanced his way, and her lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. She could see it in him—the fire, the hunger. There was something different about Adam today.

After handling his minor duties with a practiced efficiency, Adam returned to his desk, where the other interns were already deep in chatter about their own designs. They were blissfully unaware of just how dull, how monotonous their ideas had become, stuck in the same tired loop of what had already been done. His friend, always curious, frowned slightly.

"Don’t you have anything to show?" they asked, peering over at Adam.

Adam hummed softly, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Not yet," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "I’m aiming for next week now."

His friend raised an eyebrow, surprised. They had seen Adam sketching feverishly the day before, but they didn’t press the issue. Something had changed in him, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what.

Adam didn’t linger in conversation. He twisted in his chair and sprang to his feet, walking with purpose toward the neglected corner of the design room—the forgotten “hazbins.” These were the models no one wanted to work with anymore, their faces pushed to the side as newer, shinier names took the spotlight.

But today, Adam had a different vision. With a greedy, almost possessive determination, he began taking down the pinups of Vagatha Luna, Husker Card, Anthony Dust, and Charlotte Haz. Nobody batted an eye. They were rejects, after all, collecting dust in the shadows. But not to Adam. No, to him, they were the key.

He carried their images back to his desk and dumped the pile of headshots and old issues in a chaotic sprawl across his workspace. His friend looked over with a slight grimace, as if Adam had brought home a box of junk. But Adam paid no mind, a sly grin spreading across his face as he sorted through the pile.

"Do you want these?" Adam asked casually, without even looking up, holding out a handful of Lilith’s pinups to his friend.

They blinked in surprise, eyeing the coveted images of the company’s golden girl. "Uh... sure.”

"Thanks... But are you really going to use those?" Their tone was sceptical, a little bemused.

Adam’s grin only widened, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Of course."

His friend made another face, half-amused, half-worried.

"Well… your funeral," they muttered before turning back to their own work.

Adam chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that vibrated with the thrill of rebellion. He was breaking free from the mold, and it felt exhilarating. He pinned up the photos of the hazbins in a deliberate arrangement, making sure each model’s face stared down at him as if they were waiting, eager for him to breathe life into them once more. With the room around him buzzing with the hum of design talk, Adam leaned back in his chair, surveying his new layout with satisfaction. This was it. He was going to do something crazy. He was going to pitch his Hazbin Project.

But as the initial excitement began to cool, doubt slowly crept in. Adam groaned, his forehead dropping to his desk, his fingers threading through his tousled hair in frustration. What theme? What style? What colours? Every idea he sketched felt stale, too similar to the trends already dominating the office. He needed something bold, something seductive—something that would make the seniors stop in their tracks. But no matter how hard he tried, everything he came up with felt… wrong. Boring.

His pencil danced between his fingers, spinning idly as his thoughts swirled in chaotic frustration. He was on the verge of pulling his hair out, desperate for the spark of inspiration that just wasn’t coming. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind screaming for a breakthrough. He needed something daring. Something sensual, seductive, yet elegant.

His eyes flickered to the models pinned on the wall—the hazbins, their eyes shimmering with forgotten potential. Maybe… Maybe they needed a theme, something that played off their fall from grace, their buried allure. Something darker, more dangerous. The glitz and glam of the typical designs weren’t enough anymore. No. Adam’s models would rise from the ashes, not in the glowing light of stardom but in the sultry shadows of allure and mystery.

Adam groaned, letting out a frustrated breath as his friend gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm, telling him they were headed out for a smoke break. He waved them off, too absorbed in his failure to respond properly. Every line he sketched felt wrong. His ideas twisted and crumbled the moment he put them on paper. With a defeated sigh, Adam laid his head on the table, turning his face to the side as his arms formed a fortress around him, his forehead resting on his makeshift barricade. The weight of his creative block felt unbearable.

Then, a soft chuckle drifted from above. Adam blinked, lifting his head to see Sera standing over him, her cool grey eyes taking in the array of models he had spread across his desk. For a brief moment, Adam expected the usual dismissive comment, the same ridicule he’d been receiving from everyone else. But Sera said nothing of the sort. Instead, her lips curled into a sly smile.

“Hazbins?” she asked, her voice low and almost teasing.

Adam sat up straighter, feeling a flicker of hope, and gave a sheepish shrug. “It’s a play on words.”

Sera’s smirk widened, clearly appreciating the joke. “I see.”

Her gaze lingered on the models before returning to him. “And what would the Hazbins theme be?”

Adam’s smile faltered, his excitement fading as quickly as it had appeared. He groaned, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That’s the problem. I can’t come up with one. I’ve been stuck all morning.”

Sera hummed thoughtfully, crossing her arms. “I know that feeling all too well.”

She gestured with a subtle tilt of her head, inviting Adam to walk with her. “Come with me. Sometimes, when I’m stuck, a walk around the building helps. You never know what might inspire you.”

Adam grinned, eager for any break in his mental block, and quickly agreed. He followed her through the halls, their steps echoing softly as they moved past the bustling design room. The tension in Adam’s chest began to ease as they strolled side by side, the rhythm of their walk soothing him.

After a few moments of quiet, Adam finally asked, his curiosity piqued, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Sera’s cool gaze flicked to him, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

“I was on the board of decisions for this year’s internships,” she said, her tone casual.

Adam blinked, his brows knitting together. “Really?”

Sera nodded. “We had a lot of young artists apply. Normally, we wouldn’t take someone so fresh out of university.”

His curiosity deepened. “Then why did you accept me?”

Sera’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with something almost secretive. “Because I can recognize talent when I see it.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at her in awe, his mind reeling. She had believed in him all along?

They came to a stop by a large set of windows that overlooked the company’s sprawling garden. Sera leaned against the frame, her eyes gazing out at the view with a serene smile.

“I liked how you sketched back then,” she continued softly, her voice carrying a touch of nostalgia. “The raw emotion you put into your designs was exactly what we were looking for. You didn’t just draw… you felt it.”

Adam noticed the shift in her tone—past tense. His heart sank slightly, realizing what she was implying.

“You need to stop thinking so hard,” she added, her voice low and almost intimate. “You’re letting your mind get in the way of your instincts. Just… let it out. That’s when the magic happens.”

Adam swallowed, nodding, though the weight of her words pressed heavily on him. He turned to gaze out of the window as well, taking in the beauty of the garden below. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of trees, casting warm golden rays that painted the leaves with soft red and amber hues. The light danced across the landscape, creating a stunning tapestry of colours that seemed to shift and shimmer with every breeze. Adam couldn’t help but marvel at how peaceful it looked, like a scene from a dream.

His breath hitched, eyes widening as he caught sight of a figure sitting on the grass.

Lucifer Morningstar.

The name struck him like lightning. Michael’s older twin brother. The company’s retired golden boy, and Lilith’s fiercest rival. For years, Lucifer had been the face that adorned countless magazine covers, his popularity surpassing even Lilith’s at her peak. He was a legend—mysterious, untouchable.

Adam’s gaze lingered on the man below, who sat elegantly on the grass, feeding bread to a few ducks. The afternoon sunlight bathed Lucifer in a warm glow, highlighting the shimmering strands of his golden hair, which fell in soft waves around his face. His brilliant blue eyes, half-lidded and serene, glimmered in the sunlight, their cool depths seeming to capture the very sky itself.

“He’s beautiful…” Adam breathed out, almost to himself. His heart pounded as he took in the sight of the man, his chest tightening at the sheer presence Lucifer exuded, even in such a quiet moment.

Sera sighed softly beside him. “Such a shame he retired. He was so young.”

Adam gulped, tearing his eyes away from the vision below. “Why did he retire?”

Sera’s smile faded slightly, and she shook her head. “Personal reasons. I’m not going to delve into it.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if recalling something bittersweet. “But the company would welcome him back with open arms if he ever decided to return. Can you imagine the explosion if Lucifer came back? Every department would be scrambling to work with him again.”

Adam listened in silence, his attention drifting back to Lucifer. There was something so captivating about him—his grace, the quiet way he moved, the warmth in his smile as he sat with the ducks. Adam’s eyes traced the soft blush of his cheeks, the same natural rosiness that had captivated fans for years. There had always been rumours that Lucifer’s makeup was enhanced during shoots, but seeing him now, in this unfiltered moment, Adam realized the blush had always been real.

Lucifer reached into a small bag, pulling out a shining red apple. As he bit into it, the sun shifted again, casting a delicate array of shadows across his body. The leaves above danced together, and for a brief, magical moment, the shadows framed him like wings—six ethereal wings, as if the very earth recognized his angelic presence.

Adam blinked in awe, his breath catching in his throat. Something inside him stirred, vibrating with a deep, sudden realization. “

Oh…” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Sera glanced at him; curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Adam gasped, his entire body shuddering as the revelation hit him like a tidal wave. He turned to her; eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh, I got to go!” he nearly squealed, the spark of inspiration blazing to life. “I’m sorry, Sera, I’ve got to go!”

Without waiting for her reply, Adam bolted down the hall, his heart racing with newfound purpose. Sera watched him speed off, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head in amusement.

Glancing back at the garden, her eyes met Lucifer’s curious gaze. He waved wearily, offering her a gentle smile. Sera awkwardly waved back before turning sharply and sighing deeply to herself.

“What a shame he retired…” she muttered, her voice laced with quiet longing.

Adam burst back into the design room, heart pounding with anticipation, making sure to steer clear of the senior desks. He practically flew to his own corner, relieved to find it still empty. His hands trembled as he fell into his chair, adrenaline surging through him. Without a second thought, he seized his pencil, the memory of Lucifer in the garden still vivid, still glowing in his mind. Every detail burned into his imagination—the way the sunlight framed Lucifer, casting delicate wings from the shadows of the trees. His fingers danced feverishly over the paper, sketching as if driven by something primal, a deeper force beyond his control.

Lucifer didn’t have wings in reality, but in Adam’s mind, they unfurled, majestic and otherworldly. His pencil twirled, bringing to life the angelic vision that shimmered in his mind’s eye. Emerald eyes gleamed from the page, full of ancient wisdom, seduction, and untold power. His chest tightened with excitement as he continued to sketch, knowing full well he couldn’t use the retired model in his Hazbin pitch. But something, some mysterious pull, urged him to keep drawing Lucifer anyway.

With a gentle stroke, he added a top hat, laughing softly to himself at the juxtaposition—something so refined yet mischievous. A delicate halo encircled the brim, like a crown of light tainted by shadows. His pencil moved fluidly, as though bewitched, and soon Lucifer was draped in flowing, elegant robes, each fold and ripple caressed by the imaginary breeze that Adam saw in his mind’s eye.

The sketch took on a life of its own. Adam paused, staring at the breathtaking figure before him, his hand itching to add colour—a sensation he usually ignored. Colouring had always felt secondary to him, something he left for last with minimal care. But this time, the urge was so overwhelming it made his fingers twitch with need. His eyes shifted to the old, rare watercolours his mother had left him, the elegant black box sitting patiently on the shelf.

Adam’s heart raced as he reached for the box, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He opened it with a reverence reserved for sacred things, selecting the colours with care—yellow, orange, red, blue, green, pink, and white. It felt like a ritual, and as he dipped his brush and began to paint, he realized he was not merely colouring but bringing something divine to life. The hues bled together, creating a luminous, delicate masterpiece. Each brushstroke breathed life into Lucifer Morningstar, who now sat on the page as the angel who had once walked in the heavens.

Lucifer—the true Morningstar Angel. Adam could hardly believe he’d captured him in this light, this way. It was almost laughable—the irony of painting the fallen angel who had given the apple of knowledge to Adam and Eve. His lips quirked into a smile, amused at the symbolism he hadn’t even intended. But as his eyes roamed over the final painting, an idea—a theme—began to swirl in his mind like a whisper from the cosmos.

Heaven. Hell. Knowledge and damnation. The story of Lucifer’s fall, of him giving humanity the apple of knowledge and being cast down for it. And then, in Hell, witnessing the consequences—the Sinners, who entered his dominion because of that single act of defiance.

Adam’s breath hitched, excitement flooding his veins. Lucifer, the King of Hell... The vision of it was so clear, so powerful. His entire body tingled as the concept came together in his mind, piece by piece, until it felt like a masterpiece begging to be unleashed.

This time, Adam didn’t stay late at the office, though every fiber of his being wanted to. He left on time, unable to think of anything but the theme—his entire body buzzing with it, as though lightning had struck him. His fingers twitched at his sides, eager to hold a pencil again, to keep sketching, keep creating. He was nervous—no, terrified—by the boldness of the idea, the enormity of what he was about to pitch. But that fear was intoxicating. It pushed him, thrilled him.

Adam couldn’t shake the thought of Lucifer Morningstar. The man was a legend, a god-like figure in the modelling world, and even though he was retired, there was something so irresistible about using him. Lucifer, with his perfect face, his golden hair that shimmered in the sun, his brilliant blue eyes that could pierce through to someone’s soul. Adam bit his lip, his thoughts spinning wildly. He couldn’t officially use Lucifer in his design—he knew that. But that wouldn’t stop him from drawing inspiration from the retired model, from weaving him into the very heart of his concept.

In his mind, Lucifer would become the anchor, the forbidden muse around which everything revolved. He was the spark—the one who gave humanity the knowledge that led to sin, the one who had been cast down for it. The Hazbin pitch would be centred on that moment of temptation, on the forbidden fruit and the world that came from it—Hell itself.

Adam’s pulse quickened. He didn’t think anyone had done something like this before. It was new, daring, and so close to the edge it made his hands shake. What would people say? How would they react? A part of him was terrified of the backlash, of the potential failure. But another part—the part that had been sitting dormant for so long—thrived on the idea of pushing boundaries, of creating something no one had dared to before.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts in his mind, though his excitement wouldn’t die down.

Lucifer, King of Hell, he thought again, smiling to himself.

The title alone sent shivers through him. And though Lucifer was no longer in the spotlight, no longer a model, Adam knew that he had become something far greater in his world—a legend, an idea that couldn’t be pinned down by contracts or retirements.

He may not officially be part of the project, but Lucifer Morningstar would forever be intertwined with it, unofficially the beating heart of Adam’s vision.

As Adam walked home, his thoughts swirling like a storm, he couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself. He was both exhilarated and terrified—nervous beyond belief. But more than anything, he felt alive.

Adam was humming to himself, completely lost in thought as he turned the corner, eyes closed, a smile playing on his lips. The thrill of his new project still buzzed in his veins, making him giddy with excitement. He didn’t even notice the man stepping out of the nearby store until it was too late.

Crash.

They collided with a surprising force, sending both tumbling to the ground. Adam’s sketchpad and various materials scattered across the pavement, his precious painting slipping from his grasp and landing right in front of the stranger.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Adam babbled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hurried to gather his things. He didn’t bother to look up at first, too busy trying to collect his scattered thoughts and belongings.

A soft grunt came from the man he had bumped into, and Adam heard him mutter something under his breath as he rubbed the back of his head. It wasn’t until Adam’s hand reached for the painting—only to find it already in someone else’s grasp—that he finally turned to face the person he had crashed into.

And froze.

The sight of him hit Adam like a tidal wave, stealing the breath right out of his lungs. Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar, the very man Adam had just been painting, was sitting there, staring intently at the artwork in his hands. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his brilliant blue eyes were framed by impossibly long lashes that only added to his ethereal beauty. Adam's mouth opened and closed, words escaping him, his heart hammering in his chest. His cheeks flamed crimson as he stuttered an incoherent apology, barely able to comprehend the situation.

“I—uh—I didn’t mean to…” Adam fumbled.

His pulse roaring in his ears, watching Lucifer’s expression for any sign of anger, but the retired model’s face remained impassive. Was he mad? Would he be upset that people were still sketching him even after all this time? Adam’s mind raced with anxiety, fearing the worst.

Lucifer blinked, his eyes softening as he turned his gaze from the painting to Adam.

“Did you make this?” His voice was smooth, calm, and utterly captivating.

Adam nodded, swallowing hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Y-yeah, I did.”

Lucifer hummed, his gaze returning to the painting, and for a moment, Adam could only stand there, breathless, as he watched the man take in every detail of his work.

"It's beautiful," Lucifer said softly, his voice warm but distant, as if lost in thought.

Adam blinked, utterly floored by the words.

“Excuse me?” he blurted out, disbelief creeping into his tone.

Lucifer’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles as he slowly got to his feet, the painting still in hand. He looked at it once more, turning it slightly in the sunlight, allowing the vibrant colors to dance on the canvas.

“I said it’s really good. I like it.” He then handed the painting back to Adam with a slow, deliberate motion. "I don’t usually like most designers’ interpretations of me."

Adam stood there, in awe, as he gingerly took the painting back. His fingers brushed against Lucifer’s as he did, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe that Lucifer Morningstar—the legend—had just complimented his work.

“Do… do you really like it?” Adam asked in a hushed voice, still unsure if this was some sort of dream.

Lucifer chuckled softly, a low, velvety sound that sent shivers down Adam’s spine.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” he replied, his brilliant blue eyes meeting Adam’s. There was something in his gaze, something warm and genuine, that made Adam’s heart pound even harder.

Adam’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions—disbelief, joy, terror, and something else entirely that made his breath catch in his throat. He was standing face-to-face with Lucifer Morningstar, and the man was complimenting his art. The one figure that had inspired him more than anyone, the one he thought would never even glance his way, was standing here, admiring his work.

“I—I don’t know what to say…” Adam murmured, feeling his heart race. “I-I’m Adam.”

He looked up at Lucifer, who now seemed so much more than just a figure in his painting. He was real, tangible, and even more beautiful up close. There was something mesmerizing about him—an effortless grace, a magnetism that Adam couldn’t quite put into words. His presence was overwhelming, like standing in the presence of something otherworldly.

Lucifer smiled, a soft, almost tender expression that made Adam’s stomach flip.

“There’s nothing you need to say,” he said simply, stepping back with an easy elegance. “Just keep doing what you're doing.”

“I’ll see you around, Adam.”

Adam could hardly breathe as he watched Lucifer turn and walk away, the moment leaving him both shaken and exhilarated. His heart was still pounding in his chest, his thoughts swirling in every direction, but one thing was clear—this was just the beginning.

As he clutched the painting close to his chest, Adam felt something light up inside him, a spark of inspiration and courage he hadn’t felt in a long time. Lucifer’s words echoed in his mind, filling him with a sense of confidence he hadn’t known was possible.

Maybe—just maybe—he was on the right path after all.

Adam had been on cloud nine the rest of that evening, practically gliding home, his feet barely touching the ground. His lips were curled into a grin so wide it made him look like a meerkat basking in the sun. It was a kind of happiness he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. Lucifer Morningstar had complimented his work—his painting! It was surreal, like something out of a dream. Adam hummed to himself, his heart light, hopeful that tomorrow would be just as good.

But it wasn’t.

The next day was an absolute disaster. Worse than anything he could have imagined. The seniors had him running around like a headless chicken, darting from one ridiculous task to another. He wasn’t pitching today—or all week, actually—so he’d been relegated to the role of the errand boy, pouring coffee and tea, fetching snacks for the seniors while the interns presented their ideas. Adam stood on the sidelines, watching as his friend made their pitch, and he saw the way the seniors’ faces pinched, how Sera’s lips curled in subtle disappointment. Everyone got feedback, but no one was taken to the next stage.

Adam’s heart sank for his friend, watching them deflate under the weight of rejection. He wanted to say something comforting, something to lift their spirits, but nothing seemed right.

For the rest of the week, Adam was the errand boy—every day, running around, fetching drinks and food. It was humiliating, but in some small way, a relief. Every time he sat down to work on his own pitch, his mind blanked. He couldn’t get anything onto paper. The creative high he'd been riding was now nothing more than a distant memory, washed away by the endless monotony of menial tasks.

Then came the day that everything truly fell apart.

Adam was rushing through the company garden, a large tray of lunches balanced precariously in his hands, when disaster struck. His foot caught on something, and with a yelp, he tripped forward, sending the entire tray of food flying. He crashed to the ground, covered in salads, sandwiches, and drinks, his face and clothes a mess of spilled liquids and sauce.

For a moment, he just lay there, stunned. The week had started so perfectly, and now it felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on him. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as humiliation washed over him. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, someone crouched down beside him, and the bag that had fallen over his head was gently lifted.

"Are you alright?" came a deep, smooth voice filled with concern. "That looked like a nasty fall."

Adam’s eyes shot up, his breath catching in his throat. It was him. Lucifer Morningstar. Of all the people to find him in this state, it had to be Lucifer. Adam’s face turned beet red, his mouth opening and closing, words failing him completely. He could hardly think, let alone speak, as Lucifer’s piercing blue eyes locked onto his.

"I... I..." Adam stammered, utterly mortified.

Lucifer didn’t seem phased by Adam’s embarrassment. Instead, his expression softened, and without hesitation, he reached out a hand to help Adam up.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a gentle smile. “No one else saw.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, and though Lucifer’s reassurance was kind, it did little to ease the burning humiliation he felt. His vision blurred with unshed tears, and he could barely hold it together when a voice called his name.

Sera appeared, rushing over with concern written all over her face. "Adam! Are you okay? I saw what happened from upstairs!"

Adam was too flustered to respond, but Lucifer turned to her and said smoothly, “He had a bit of a rough fall. I think he might have smacked his chin.”

Sera’s eyes widened in alarm as she moved closer to Adam, her hands hovering as if she wanted to help. “Do you need to sit down? Should we call an ambulance?”

“No!” Adam’s voice cracked as he scrambled to assure them both. “I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

Sera frowned, her worry etched clearly in her expression. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. I’ve noticed how hard the seniors have been pushing you this week. A bit of time off might help you focus on your own pitch.”

Lucifer’s brow arched slightly at Sera’s comment, his gaze flickering between her and Adam. Adam, on the other hand, could only look down, his face growing hotter by the second.

Sera lingered for a moment before she nodded, giving Adam a soft smile. “Think about it, okay? Take care of yourself.” With that, she left the two of them alone, retreating back into the building.

Adam exhaled a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion and embarrassment. “I wonder who else saw that,” he muttered under his breath, his face still burning.

Lucifer’s gaze was steady as he reached out and gave Adam’s shoulder a gentle pat.

“It happens to everyone,” he said softly. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

His voice was calm, soothing, and for a brief moment, Adam felt the tension ease slightly from his body.

Before he could respond, Lucifer started guiding him toward the nearest bathroom. The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves in the garden. Once inside, Lucifer helped Adam clean the mess from his clothes, his touch careful yet confident.

“On the bright side,” Lucifer said with a light chuckle, “at least you weren’t carrying hot liquids.”

Adam managed a small smile, but the embarrassment still clung to him. Lucifer seemed to sense his unease, his eyes softening as they continued their quiet work. After a few more minutes of wiping away food stains, Lucifer sat down beside Adam, their backs against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall.

“I was bullied when I first started out, you know,” Lucifer said casually, his voice breaking the silence.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, his gaze snapping to Lucifer. “You were?”

Lucifer smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, of course. I was this geeky, skinny brat from the Highlands. Thought I was better than everyone, and believe me, nobody liked me. For good reason.”

Adam blinked, taken aback by Lucifer’s honesty. He couldn’t imagine anyone bullying the elegant, confident man sitting next to him.

��“But... you’re Lucifer,” Adam said quietly, almost in disbelief.

Lucifer laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “I wasn’t always this Lucifer. It took time.”

He leaned back against the wall, his arm brushing lightly against Adam’s. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s been stuck as the errand boy.”

Adam frowned, glancing over at him. “You were?”

Lucifer nodded. “Oh, definitely. Had to run around, get everyone their coffee and food. The senior designers made sure of that.”

He shifted slightly, his hand brushing lightly against Adam’s knee in a way that felt deliberate. “But you’ll get through it. Just don’t let them get in your head.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the light touch, a strange warmth flooding his chest. “I just... I feel like I’m the only one they always stick with those jobs.”

Lucifer’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, his expression softening further.

“They’re testing you,” he said, his voice low. “Seeing how far they can push you.”

Adam sighed, the weight of the week pressing down on him.

“I thought you were retired,” he said, changing the subject, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Lucifer chuckled, his smirk returning. “I am.”

Adam blinked in confusion. “Then... why are you here?”

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he tilted his head. “What, I can’t miss the gardens?”

Adam’s cheeks flushed. “No! I mean, yes, of course you can! I didn’t mean it like that!” He stumbled over his words, panicking slightly as he worried about offending Lucifer.

Lucifer laughed again, a rich, melodic sound. “I’m just teasing you. I was actually invited back for a few meetings. They’re trying to get me to sign a new contract.”

Adam’s eyes widened in awe. “Are you going to do it? Another issue?”

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, his expression turning distant for a moment. “Probably not. For me to come out of retirement, it would have to be something... grand. Something I couldn’t say no to.”

Adam nodded, feeling a strange mix of admiration and curiosity. After a long pause, he asked in a quiet voice, “Why did you retire?”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened slightly as he looked at Adam, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I made a mistake,” he said softly, almost regretfully. “A mistake that led to some... bad things. For my own sake, I had to step away.”

Adam’s chest tightened, his heart aching at the pain in Lucifer’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Lucifer nudged him lightly with his shoulder, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

Adam smiled weakly, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence again. After a while, Adam asked, “What were the designers like when you worked with them?”

Lucifer chuckled darkly, tapping his chin. “Predictable. After a while, I could tell what the next concept would be

Lucifer’s voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, as he leaned back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. Adam sat beside him, feeling both overwhelmed and strangely at ease in the intimate quiet of the moment. He listened closely as Lucifer spoke, his tone turning soft, reflective, as he shared his past experiences.

“You know,” Lucifer began, “it’s supposed to be a partnership. When the model likes your pitch, you present it to the higher-ups, and if they approve, it gets brought to the model you based it on. If the model likes it, you work together on it. If not, it goes to another model. Sort of a half-and-half deal.”

Adam nodded, absorbing every word. He could hardly believe he was sitting there, side by side with someone as legendary as Lucifer Morningstar, listening to his personal experiences. It felt surreal.

Lucifer’s voice took on a more thoughtful note.

“It really meant something to me when I liked a pitch,” he said quietly. “I remember being so eager, so excited to work with certain designers. But over time, it soured. Some of them became pushy, ignoring what I had to say. Sometimes I’d be shut down with nothing more than a wave of their hand, like my input didn’t matter. It infuriated me, to the point where there were certain designers I couldn’t work with anymore.”

Adam stared at Lucifer in awe, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief flooding his features. The idea of anyone shutting down Lucifer like that seemed absurd. He bristled with a flicker of anger on Lucifer’s behalf.

“That's awful,” Adam muttered, his voice tight with indignation.

Lucifer smiled warmly, a kind of tenderness in his expression.

“It’s alright now,” he said soothingly, his tone calming. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. But, yes, some designers were pretty pig-headed. They thought they knew best, but sometimes... I could just tell when something could be better, you know? And they wouldn’t listen.”

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “If someone like you agreed to be their model—to work with them—it would be a dream come true. How could they think they knew better?”

He spoke with such sincerity, unaware of how passionately his words tumbled out until Lucifer turned to look at him, his eyes soft, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“I would be beside myself if you liked my pitch,” Adam blurted, and then, realizing what he’d said, his face turned bright red. “I mean... I would listen to everything you said... I—I just mean, it’s... it’s common decency.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound warm and rich, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You’re very sweet,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But, trust me, it’s not as common as you’d think.”

Adam’s blush deepened, and he glanced down, feeling his heart race in his chest. The warmth of Lucifer’s gaze made him feel both flustered and flattered, emotions mixing together until he couldn’t quite tell which was stronger.

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“So, tell me,” he said, his voice soft and inviting. “What about your own pitch? You must be working on one, right?”

Adam shifted uncomfortably, his embarrassment now tinged with frustration.

“Yeah... I am,” he admitted, though his tone was far from confident.

Lucifer hummed, his gaze steady as he watched Adam. “How’s it coming along?”

A deep sigh escaped Adam, and he buried his face in his hands for a moment before groaning.

“It’s not,” he confessed. “I can’t even start it. I have an idea, but no concept. It’s just... stuck. I’m running out of time, and I don’t even know where to begin.”

Lucifer shifted closer to Adam, his presence warm and steady.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” he suggested, his voice gentle, the words almost a caress. His hand brushed lightly along Adam’s arm, the touch sending a subtle shiver through him. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’d love to hear about your idea.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” he asked, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. Adam looked up, blinking in surprise. “Surely you have more important things to do.”

Lucifer smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made Adam’s heart flutter.

“Nope,” he said, his tone light. “I’m completely free. These days, I’ve got so much free time, I never know what to do with it.”

Then his voice softened further, more intimate, as his fingers lightly grazed Adam’s arm again. “And besides... I’d really love to hear about your idea.”

The sincerity in Lucifer’s words, combined with the subtle, almost tender way he touched him, sent a warmth flooding through Adam. He smiled shyly, his heart pounding as he gathered his thoughts.

“Well...” Adam began, his voice a little shaky, “it’s not even a full idea. More like half of one.”

Lucifer nodded, encouraging him to continue, his expression one of patient interest.

Adam took a deep breath. “The idea... it came from you, actually.”

Lucifer blinked in surprise, his brows lifting slightly. “From me?” he echoed, intrigued.

“Yeah... You were in the garden, feeding the ducks,” he said, his voice growing quieter as he spoke. Adam nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up again. “I saw you from the third-floor window... You were eating an apple.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to recall the moment. Slowly, he nodded. “I remember.”

Adam bit his lip, feeling nervous but determined to explain.

“The way the shadows of the trees fell across you... it made it look like you had wings,” he said softly, his heart racing as he spoke. “And that’s where the idea came from.”

Lucifer’s gaze sharpened, his eyes locking onto Adam’s with an intensity that made his breath catch.

“The painting,” he murmured, realization dawning in his voice.

Adam nodded again, feeling a little exposed but also strangely relieved. “Yeah. The painting.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged, thick with something unspoken. Lucifer’s eyes were fixed on Adam, his gaze soft and searching, and Adam found himself lost in the brilliant blue depths.

Then Lucifer smiled, slow and warm, his eyes gleaming with something Adam couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve got a good eye,” he said softly, his voice almost a purr. “That’s a beautiful concept.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse quickening at the praise. He wasn’t sure if it was the compliment or the way Lucifer looked at him—like he was truly seeing him—that made his chest tighten with emotion. All he knew was that, in that moment, he felt something shift between them, something deeper and more intimate than before.

Lucifer’s hand lingered on Adam’s arm, his fingers brushing lightly against his skin as he leaned in just a little closer.

“You’re more talented than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Adam swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, unable to tear his eyes away from Lucifer’s.

“Th-Thank you,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s smile deepened, and for a moment, Adam wondered if he could feel it too—the unspoken tension between them, the subtle pull drawing them closer.

“You’re welcome,” Lucifer said softly, his voice full of promise. “Now... tell me more about this idea.”

Lucifer’s warm chuckle filled the small, quiet space of the bathroom as Adam shyly admitted his inspiration.

“Well... when I saw you in the garden like that, it sorts of made me think of the Bible,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He glanced at Lucifer, feeling both flustered and nervous.

“Oh?” Lucifer’s laughter was soft, almost melodic. “I can imagine.”

Adam’s cheeks flushed a little deeper, and he gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah... well, with your name being Lucifer and you looking like an angel, I couldn’t help but think of the Lucifer. You know, the one who became the King of Hell.”

Lucifer tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his brilliant blue eyes.

“Is that your pitch, then?” he asked, voice gentle and amused. “Something centred around the fallen angel from Eden?”

Adam quickly shook his head. “No, no—that’s more the lore. Not the pitch itself.”

“Lore?” Lucifer’s interest deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in, intrigued. “Go on, tell me more about this lore of yours.”

Adam hesitated for a moment, feeling both excited and nervous under Lucifer’s focused gaze. He took a breath and tried to explain. “Well... since you’re retired and I couldn’t exactly use you as a model, I thought I’d still use the idea of you. So... you’re the lore. The story behind the concept. The pitch is something about Heaven and Hell, set after Lucifer—uh, you—became the King of Hell.”

Lucifer’s expression softened as he listened, his blue eyes darkening slightly, a hooded look crossing his face as Adam’s words sank in. There was something in Lucifer’s gaze, something Adam didn’t quite understand, but it sent a flutter of nervous energy through him.

“And who’s your model, then?” Lucifer asked, his voice soft yet laced with curiosity.

Adam’s face brightened with enthusiasm, momentarily forgetting his nerves. “I wanted to do something different! Everyone in the department is so stuck on Lilith Leonhart. Every issue looks the same because they’re all using her, and I just... it’s not interesting anymore. So I looked into some of the less popular models.”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up with renewed interest, his curiosity piqued.

“Are you using them?” he asked, a note of excitement creeping into his voice.

Adam nodded, smiling brightly. “Yes! I want to use them as the focus for my pitch, to make the issue revolve around them—instead of using models to serve the issue. I want to highlight them.”

Lucifer’s blue eyes widened, truly fascinated now. The depth of his gaze made Adam’s heart skip a beat, and for a moment, Adam felt like he was the only person in the world as Lucifer focused on him.

“And what would the issue be about, then?” Lucifer asked, leaning closer, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

Adam’s enthusiasm faltered for a second, and he sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the uncertainty that had been plaguing him for days.

“That’s where I’m stuck,” Adam admitted, his voice quiet and frustrated. “I don’t know what the theme and concept are yet. I’ve tried to write some, but none of them feel right.”

Lucifer seemed to understand immediately. He smiled softly, watching Adam with an almost tender expression.

“That’s where you’re stuck, isn’t it?” he said gently.

Adam nodded, his frustration palpable as he exhaled slowly. “Yeah... I’m stuck there.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened further, and he shifted closer to Adam, his presence warm and reassuring.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said in a low, comforting voice, lightly brushing his hand along Adam’s arm again. The touch was gentle, almost soothing, and it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Adam looked over at Lucifer, his breath catching in his throat. There was something about the way Lucifer was watching him, the way his touch lingered just a little too long, that made Adam’s heart race.

“I... I don’t know,” Adam murmured, feeling the weight of Lucifer’s gaze on him. “Maybe I am...”

Lucifer’s smile deepened, his eyes never leaving Adam’s face.

“You’ve got the core of it already,” he said, his voice soft and encouraging. “You’ve got the models, the lore, and the passion. The rest will come.”

Adam’s chest tightened, not just from the weight of the project but from the sudden closeness between them. He could feel the warmth of Lucifer’s body next to his, the way their shoulders brushed, how Lucifer’s hand still rested lightly against his arm. It was enough to make his thoughts swirl.

Lucifer leaned in slightly, his breath warm against Adam’s ear as he whispered, “Tell me more about your idea. What’s the vision in your head?”

Adam swallowed hard, trying to focus, but it was difficult with Lucifer so close, with the way his voice sent shivers through him.

“It’s... it’s about redemption,” he said quietly, his voice a little shaky. “Fallen angels, like you—well, like the lore you. It’s about reclaiming what’s been lost... finding a way back to the light, even after you’ve fallen.”

Lucifer’s hand slid down Adam’s arm, his fingers grazing his wrist in a way that made Adam’s pulse quicken.

“That’s beautiful,” Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “You’ve got a real heart for this, Adam. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Adam blushed, feeling his heart pound in his chest. Lucifer’s closeness, his gentle touch, and the way he spoke to him—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“I don’t know how to make it all work yet,” Adam whispered, his gaze dropping to where Lucifer’s hand now rested against his. “I feel like I’m so far behind everyone else.”

Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly around Adam’s hand, and he gently lifted Adam’s chin with his other hand, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“You’re not behind,” Lucifer said softly, his voice low and intimate. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. Adam felt like he was falling into those brilliant blue eyes, lost in the warmth and intensity of Lucifer’s gaze. He swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks burn as Lucifer’s fingers lingered on his skin, the touch electrifying.

“Thank you,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lucifer smiled—a slow, soft smile that made Adam’s heart flutter.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “Just... believe in yourself, Adam. You’re more than capable of making this work. I can see it in you.”

Adam nodded slowly, his breath hitching slightly as Lucifer’s fingers lightly traced the back of his hand. He couldn’t quite process everything that was happening—Lucifer’s encouragement, his closeness, the way he made Adam feel like he was the only person that mattered.

Lucifer’s smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with something warm and unreadable.

“I think you’re going to surprise yourself,” he said softly, his voice full of promise.

Adam’s heart swelled with emotion, the weight of Lucifer’s words filling him with a quiet confidence he hadn’t felt in days. And as they sat there, close and connected in the dim light, Adam realized something else—he was falling for Lucifer, and maybe, just maybe, Lucifer was falling for him too.

Adam couldn’t believe it—surprise himself, he did. Spending the day with the Lucifer Morningstar had felt like an impossible dream, something he’d never forget. He had been so close, so intimate with the retired model, and the thrill of it lingered in his veins as he made his way home. He had assumed nothing could top that feeling. But then, it happened.

It came out of nowhere, like a sudden flash of lightning on a clear day. Adam was wandering along the quiet streets, lost in thought, when his eyes drifted toward the abandoned theatre. He crossed the road, glancing over at the crumbling building, when he saw them—a father and his daughter standing outside. The father was animated, speaking excitedly to the little girl, who seemed to vibrate with joy. As the moments passed, their laughter grew louder, the father eventually lifting her into his arms and spinning her around in pure delight. Their laughter echoed through the air like music, tugging at something deep inside Adam.

A daughter.

The idea hit him with such force that Adam nearly stumbled. His heart raced as he stood frozen on the street, staring at the joyful scene. Lucifer should have had a daughter. That’s who the issue would center around—the Princess of Hell, Lucifer’s daughter, who was determined to fulfill her father’s old, broken dreams of redeeming the sinful souls of humanity. The concept burned through him, igniting his imagination with such clarity that he gasped aloud.

His feet moved before his mind could catch up. Practically bouncing with excitement, Adam raced back to his tiny flat, his breath coming in short bursts as he climbed the stairs two at a time. Once inside, he didn’t even pause to catch his breath. He swept everything off his desk in one motion, grabbed his sketchbook, and flipped to an empty page. His hands trembled with anticipation as he thumbed through the various models he’d clipped into his notebook—hazbin models, ones no one else seemed to notice.

His gaze landed on Charlotte Haz, and he froze.

Charlotte Haz... the rumours about her flashed in his mind—the whispers that she could have been Michael’s daughter when she first debuted, even though it was impossible. If Michael had a daughter, he would’ve been twelve at the time. But still... the resemblance between her and Lucifer was uncanny. The sharp angles of her face, the intensity of her gaze—everything about her screamed of Lucifer’s lineage. Her last name too—Haz. It was as if the universe had already written the story for him. Charlotte would be the star, the heart of the issue.

The Princess of Hell. Lucifer’s daughter.

Excitement coursed through Adam as he began to unpack his supplies, grabbing a pencil and lightly sketching out Charlotte’s features. But something nagged at him, and he paused, frowning in thought. She wouldn’t look completely human, would she? Not if she were a demon now. A half-human, half-angel hybrid... yes, that was it. Lucifer was a fallen angel, so his daughter would carry both the heavenly and infernal traits.

His mind raced with possibilities. She would still be beautiful, of course, but with demonic features—goat hooves, curling horns, a sleek tail, claws—yet she would still maintain that ethereal, humanoid beauty.

Gasping in realization, Adam’s pencil flew across the page, sketching Charlotte in her full demonic glory. His excitement grew with each stroke of his pencil. He drew her over and over again, experimenting with different styles, until finally, he settled on the perfect version of her.

Long, dark hair braided back, with strikingly familiar reddish cheeks, claws, and hooves. But her eyes—her eyes were what captivated him most. In real life, Charlotte’s eyes were a vivid green, but that felt too human for what he envisioned. She needed to stand out, to embody the power of Hell. With careful, delicate fingers, Adam reached for his mother’s watercolours, mixing shades of fiery red and molten gold, and painted her eyes. When he finished, a chill ran through him. The way those eyes gleamed on the page, so similar to Lucifer’s yet uniquely her own—it was perfect. Almost too perfect.

Adam leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the demonic beauty he had brought to life. But then another question stirred in his mind: How would she redeem humanity? What was her purpose, her mission? It had to be something Lucifer had attempted, something he had failed at.

His thoughts drifted back to the theatre, to how much he had admired the old grandeur of it. That’s when another idea struck—what if she ran a theatre? Or better yet, a hotel within a theatre, a sanctuary for lost souls. The Hazbin Hotel. The image formed in his mind, clearer than ever. A place where damned souls came to seek redemption, a last chance to claw their way back from Hell.

Adam grinned, already sketching Charlotte again—this time, in a hotel hostess outfit. He gave her red pants, a crisp white dress shirt, and a matching blazer, with a black ribbon tied around her neck. She looked perfect, exuding both elegance and strength, her demonic features only adding to her allure.

This is it, he thought, staring at her. This is the Princess of Hell, Charlie, who runs her Hazbin Hotel in hopes of redeeming souls.

His gaze swept over the pages filled with other ‘hazbin’ models, each one unique in their own way. Some would be residents of the hotel, forced to be there by fate or circumstance. Others would come willingly, seeking redemption or a second chance. Each of them would have their own style, their own story, their own struggle.

Adam smiled to himself, feeling a rush of satisfaction and pride. He had done it. He had created something entirely new, something that felt alive. Charlie, the Princess of Hell, and her hotel for the damned—her mission to redeem lost souls, picking up where her father left off. And as the excitement of his creation settled into something warm and satisfying, Adam couldn’t help but think of Lucifer again—how the model had been at the heart of this all, inspiring every detail.

And deep down, Adam wondered if Lucifer would be proud.

The day Adam had both eagerly anticipated and dreaded finally dawned, leaving him feeling half-dead and utterly frazzled. For three relentless days, he had poured every ounce of his creativity into his work, meticulously assembling a dazzling array of assets, designs, and models that shimmered with vibrant life. As he stood in his studio, his heart raced like a wild stallion, his skin tingling with anticipation, and his hair standing on end, electric with excitement.

His eyes swept across the breathtaking spread before him, each model a masterpiece that reflected a style so unique it felt like a glimpse into a world he had only dreamed of. But it was the finalized artwork of Lucifer that captivated him the most. In that moment, Adam couldn’t help but lose himself in the mesmerizing image of the King of Hell, resplendent in his pristine white suit, a jaunty top hat perched atop his head, and a whimsical apple cane gripped in his hand. Lucifer’s sharp-toothed grin radiated mischief and charm, and as Adam stared, a warm flush crept across his cheeks. He had to look away, shaking his head in disbelief—only he could find his own artwork so alluring.

Gathering his scattered thoughts, Adam rubbed his face and meticulously packed his creations, securing each piece with a protective embrace. But then, he caught sight of the clock, and a horrified squeal escaped his lips; he was five minutes late! Panic surged through him, and he darted around his flat like a headless chicken, collecting his belongings and racing toward the company building.

His heart thundered in his chest, pounding like a drum as he arrived just in time to see Lucifer entering the building. The sight was mesmerizing; it felt as if time had slowed, the world around him fading into a soft blur. With a twinkle of mischief in his eye, Lucifer greeted him, a delightful laugh escaping his lips.

“Someone seems happy,” he teased, his smile sweet and inviting.

Adam’s heart soared at the sight of him, a radiant warmth enveloping him like a soft blanket.

“I’m so sorry! I can’t chat—I’m late for my pitch!” he exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. “Wish me luck!”

But before Adam could turn to flee, Lucifer's fingers wrapped around his arm, gently pulling him back. With a playful glint in his eyes, he leaned in and pressed his soft lips to Adam’s cheek, whispering a melodious, “Good luck~”

That sent shivers racing down Adam’s spine. Stepping back with an air of smug satisfaction, Lucifer chuckled as Adam blinked in a daze, his cheeks burning hotter than the fiery depths of Hell.

“Y-you’re right! I’m late!” Adam gasped, suddenly jolted back to reality. Lucifer nodded, a teasing smile still dancing on his lips. “You should probably get going then.”

With a startled squeal, Adam spun on his heels, his heart racing as he began to run. But then, an audacious thought flickered through his mind, and he stopped in his tracks, turning back to face Lucifer once more. Gathering all his courage, he bravely pressed a gentle kiss to Lucifer’s cheek, his heart fluttering with vulnerability.

“Thank you for believing in me. I probably wouldn’t have made it to the pitch without your support.”

Lucifer’s blue eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks blooming with a rosy hue that matched Adam’s own.

“Adam, you’re late!” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a rush.

With a startled gasp, Adam shot off, leaving Lucifer standing there, his heart racing as he shyly touched his cheek where Adam had kissed him. A tender smile spread across his lips, the warmth of their brief connection enveloping him like a cherished secret, promising a future filled with laughter, creativity, and perhaps, love.

Adam stepped into the pitch room, a chill running down his spine as his eyes met the intimidating line of senior designers seated before him. The room felt heavy with judgment, their eyes scanning him with the precision of a thousand needles. He swallowed nervously, shuffling his feet as the weight of their stares pressed down on him.

"I—I'm sorry for being late," he muttered, sheepishly offering an apologetic smile.

His gaze flickered over to Sera, one of the more approachable seniors, who smiled at him warmly, offering a silent encouragement. That small gesture was enough to settle him, if only a little. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm inside him as he clumsily set up his presentation.

With shaking hands, Adam began, flipping up his first artwork—Lucifer as an archangel, bathed in a soft, radiant light, majestic and untainted.

“The core of my concept is the balance between Heaven and Hell,” he explained, his voice wavering. “Redemption. Souls being given a second chance at Heaven.”

His throat felt dry, and his hands trembled as he unveiled his next set of models, each one meticulously crafted. A deep breath. Focus. “This,” Adam gestured to his painting of Charlotte, her dark, angular features contrasting with her father’s sinister charm, “is Charlotte, the central figure. She’s the daughter of Lucifer and runs a hotel where sinners—those condemned to Hell—are offered a second chance at redemption.”

The room felt suffocating as he continued, explaining how each model represented different residents of the hotel, each with their own unique style and story. The words came out unevenly at first, shaky and stuttering, but the more he talked about his creations, the more his passion bled through.

When he finally finished, silence followed. It was broken by the harsh, slicing questions from the seniors.

"Why such a complicated concept?" one asked, their tone cutting like glass.

Adam hesitated, his mind scrambling for the right words. “I… I don’t think Heaven and Hell is that complicated. It’s a well-known idea in media, something people understand. But I wanted to explore it differently—through the lens of second chances of redemption.”

The next question was sharper, as if testing his resolve. “Why choose Charlotte Haz as the main model? Why not someone more prominent like Lilith Leonhart?”

Adam stammered, his voice faltering, unsure how to defend his choice. But before he could reply, the door at the back of the room creaked open, and in slipped Lucifer, as effortlessly composed as always. His blonde hair gleamed under the harsh lights, his sharp, cobalt eyes finding Adam in the crowd. Lucifer’s smile, soft and reassuring, washed over him, and instantly, the weight of anxiety lifted from Adam’s chest.

He drew in a breath, steadied by that glance, and turned back to the senior.

“Lilith is overused,” Adam said with newfound confidence. “I wanted someone new, someone fresh. Charlotte isn’t well-known, and that’s exactly the point. The audience will be intrigued by her because she’s different, unpredictable. They’ll want to come back to learn more about her.”

The seniors leaned in, more interested now. Adam pressed on, explaining that his models were meant to be outcasts, unfamiliar to the public, so that their stories would captivate in ways the more conventional characters couldn’t. Another senior frowned, crossing their arms.

"And the colours—red and purple?" they asked with a slight sneer. "They’re too harsh. Why choose those?"

“Red and purple have meaning,” Adam said, feeling strength in his explanation. “Lucifer’s story is about falling due to pride—purple is the colour of pride. Red represents passion, both destructive and transformative. These are the central themes of the project, and I want the audience to feel them in the designs.”

Another senior, this one fidgeting, asked, “And the fashionable outfits? They’re… bold.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to his paintings. “Every model has their own style, their own sense of identity. I didn’t want them to look the same, because they’re not the same. They’re individuals, each with their own journey to redemption, or failure. That’s what makes them real.”

The room quieted as the seniors muttered amongst themselves, their expressions hard to read. Adam’s heart pounded painfully in his chest as he twisted his fingers together, nerves biting at him like cold wind. Had he failed? Was it not enough?

And then Sera spoke, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “I like it.”

Immediately, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to her. Adam’s heart soared.

“It’s different,” she continued, her tone thoughtful, yet warm. “It’s fresh. It’s not like anything we’ve seen before, and it’ll give the project a new edge. It’ll make people think.”

One of the other seniors frowned, crossing their arms. “Sure, it’s different, but the models might be overlooked. A concept like this needs someone with more… relevance.”

Adam’s stomach sank, knowing exactly who they wanted. Lilith. He clenched his fists, not wanting to give up on Charlotte. She was perfect. She was his vision of redemption.

But then, from the back of the room, a voice smooth as silk cut through the tension. “Well, I like it the way it is, too.”

Heads whipped around, eyes wide with shock. Lucifer stood, his arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Sera’s eyes widened in surprise. “And how much do you like it?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened as he tilted his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Enough to come out of retirement for.”

The room erupted in disbelief. The seniors gawked, their jaws nearly dropping. Sera, looking amused, turned to the senior who had been complaining earlier.

“Would Lucifer Morningstar be relevant enough for you?” she asked, her voice dripping with victory.

The senior flushed, stumbling over their words as they nodded furiously, unable to argue.

Adam’s heart raced as he met Lucifer’s gaze across the room. Everything else became background noise as the others began talking rapidly, making plans to take his pitch to the higher-ups. All Adam could see was Lucifer, who gave him a warm, knowing smile.

It was really good, Lucifer mouthed.

Adam blushed deeply, smiling back, his lips silently forming a grateful, "Thank you."

In that moment, he felt like he could conquer anything.

Two full months had swept by like a whirlwind, leaving Adam breathless and in awe. Everything had happened so fast, it felt like a dream he had yet to fully wake from. After the higher-ups heard his pitch, the green light came almost immediately—and Adam knew Lucifer’s involvement had been the key to tipping the scales in his favor. Lucifer coming out of retirement for this project? It had sent shockwaves through the industry, giving the whole thing a sparkle of prestige and a sense of gravity Adam hadn’t expected.

He remembered that day vividly, when all the Hazbin models gathered around, eyes wide, waiting to hear what was next. Adam could see the disbelief in their faces as he and Sera explained the concept. Charlotte, in particular, had looked utterly shocked. Her pale face and wide eyes held uncertainty as she hesitated to believe she was being considered for such a pivotal role.

She had even asked, her voice quivering, “Are you sure you want me?”

Without hesitation, Adam had exclaimed, “Yes! I want all of you!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and it wasn’t long before the models shared excited looks and agreed to sign on. The contracts were inked in a flurry of excitement, and Adam was left feeling dizzy from how quickly things were moving. What had begun as a stylish, playful spread of colors and characters had spiraled into something so much bigger than anyone had anticipated.

And then there was Lucifer. His mere presence had electrified the entire project, boosting their ratings and igniting a wave of interest that no one could have foreseen. Soon, people were talking about not just fashion spreads, but TV series, movies, books, even video games. Adam could hardly keep up with the endless meetings. It seemed like every other day, he was being pulled into another room to discuss the future of Hazbin. One day, overwhelmed, he had turned to Sera and asked why everyone kept requesting him for these meetings.

Sera had blinked in surprise before softly explaining, “Adam, you own Hazbin Hotel. No one can just use its concept. The company is here to help you develop it.”

“Oh,” was all Adam had managed to say at the time, the reality of it sinking in slowly.

He hadn’t fully realized that this creation of his—this little passion project—was now something so vast and powerful, with limitless potential. And suddenly, everyone wanted him to expand it, to bring this world of Heaven and Hell to life in ways he had never even considered.

But amidst the chaos and pressure, Adam found peace in the models he’d worked so hard to bring together. Vagatha Luna, with her sharp, mysterious beauty, carried an air of quiet power, while Husker Card, with his brooding, intense gaze, brought an edge to every shot. Anthony Dust, with his playful smirk, challenged every convention, and then there was Alastor Shot, with his wild, unruly hair and vintage style that screamed of old-fashioned charm yet somehow worked perfectly within the bold, modern spread. And of course, Charlotte Haz. She was the glue that held it all together, her elegant portrayal of Lucifer’s daughter, the princess of Hell, elevating her to new heights of fame.

The father-daughter dynamic between Lucifer and Charlotte became iconic. The spreads of them together—Lucifer with his devilish smirk, Charlotte with her soft yet determined expression—captivated audiences. Their story gripped the hearts of fans, and soon, Charlotte suggested something that took their work to an even more touching level.

“Why not use my little sister, Hazel, to play a younger version of me?” she had said with a smile.

The idea was an instant hit. Adorable photoshoots of Lucifer and a six-year-old Charlie—Hazel playing her role with innocent sweetness—went viral. Fans ate it up, and it wasn’t long before the love for Hazbin exploded even further. The company, in response, dedicated ten full pages of its monthly publication solely to Adam’s Hazbin project—a move that was unprecedented but well-deserved. It gave Adam room to expand the characters’ backstories, to play with their dynamics in ways he hadn’t been able to before.

One of his favorite developments was the relationship between Charlotte and Vagatha. Adam had always thought they would make a compelling couple, and as he fleshed out their connection, it just worked. Vagatha—whom Adam had reimagined as a fallen angel—was hesitant at first, nervous about taking on a more prominent role. But she embraced the challenge, and soon, Charlotte and Vagatha’s bond became a centerpiece that fans adored.

And then there was Alastor, whose popularity surged beyond anything Adam had expected. Alastor’s idea to speak with a radio-static voice—a charming nod to an older era—became his signature, and Adam loved it. They even gave him a radio staff to carry as part of his character, and it became an iconic prop that fans instantly associated with him.

Angel Dust and Husker, too, found their own following. Adam found himself especially drawn to their dynamic, the chemistry between them palpable in every shoot. As Hazbin continued to grow, the company began suggesting new characters, more models to add to the expanding universe.

Through it all, Lucifer was by his side, quietly supporting Adam in ways that went beyond words. Late nights in the studio, reviewing character designs and storylines, were made sweeter by Lucifer’s presence. There was something comforting about the way he would sit beside Adam, casually leaning in to offer an opinion or teasing him with that ever-present smirk. And when the work became overwhelming, Lucifer had a way of calming him, his mere presence a reminder that Adam didn’t have to do it all alone.

"Purple isn't really my colour."

A sudden voice chimed in, cutting through Adam's swirling thoughts like a warm breeze. He blinked and turned, finding Lilith standing beside him, her figure both commanding and graceful. His face lit up immediately, beaming at her presence.

Lilith’s sharp blue eyes flicked down to the watercolour paintings Adam had carefully arranged on the table. He had been working tirelessly on these pieces for her, hoping to entice her into joining the Hazbin project. Now, six months in, the project had blossomed into something far beyond his original vision, and they were ready to add some of the most iconic faces into the mix—characters who would serve as powerful side players but would become integral in the years to come. Lilith wouldn’t make her debut right away, but when she did, it would be alongside other legendary figures like Eve, Lute, and countless more. The future felt electric with possibility.

Adam glanced down at the paintings again, feeling a surge of nervous pride. Lilith, the queen of seduction and darkness, draped in rich purples and blacks, her horned crown casting a shadow as regal as her presence. Her long, elegant dress shimmered in shades of amethyst, her gloves stretching up to her elbows, delicately concealing the claws that hinted at her fierce power.

“I wanted to try something a little different,” Adam explained, his voice soft but eager. “I know people usually don’t associate you with purple, but I thought... maybe this could be an exception. A twist on tradition.”

Lilith hummed thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on every detail of the artwork. She studied the sharpness of the horns, the fluidity of the dress, the subtle, hidden power the design implied. There was a contemplative silence as she weighed it all, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, her eyes lifted, meeting Adam's.

“Are you sure you want me to join?” she asked, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of vulnerability that Adam hadn’t expected.

Adam blinked, surprised by the question. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? Is something bothering you about the role?”

Lilith shook her head, a small, rueful smile playing on her lips. “No, no. I love the role. It’s perfect for me, really.”

She paused, her gaze drifting back to the paintings. “I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Adam’s heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of admiration. Disappoint? He almost laughed at the thought, but instead, he let out a soft gasp, eyes wide with awe.

“Lilith, you could never disappoint anyone. You’re... you’re incredible! You’re a brilliant model, and I’m so excited to have you as part of this. I mean it. The project wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Her smile softened, warmth flickering in her eyes as she looked back at him. “You’re too kind, Adam.”

There was something almost tender in the way she said it, like she was letting down her guard just for a moment. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

Adam couldn’t contain his excitement, his entire face lighting up as he grinned at her.

“Neither can I! Does that mean you accept?” His voice was eager, almost childlike in its enthusiasm.

Lilith chuckled softly, a melodic sound that danced through the air. “Yes, Adam. I accept the role.”

Adam’s heart soared. He cheered softly in relief, his entire body relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, Lilith! This is going to be amazing.”

She smiled warmly at him, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer before nodding. “I think so too.”

As she walked away, her presence still lingering in the air like a sweet perfume, Adam found himself glowing with pride. Every piece of the puzzle was falling into place.

Later that evening, Adam found himself back in his studio, surrounded by sketches and designs, his mind buzzing with excitement. But this time, he wasn’t alone. Lucifer stood behind him, leaning casually against the desk, watching Adam work with a fond, almost amused expression.

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” Lucifer teased softly, his voice like velvet as it filled the room.

Adam looked up from his drawings, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Lucifer’s easy smile. He couldn’t help but grin back, a blush creeping up his neck. “I’m fine. Besides, there’s still so much to do.”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a smirk as he moved closer, his hand resting gently on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’ve done more than enough for one night.” His fingers traced delicate patterns on Adam’s arm, sending a shiver of warmth through him. “How about we take a break?”

Adam tilted his head up, meeting Lucifer’s gaze. The way those piercing blue eyes stared into his own, like they were seeing right through him, always made his heart race.

“A break?” he asked softly, though a teasing smile was playing on his lips. “And what would we do on this break?”

Lucifer leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s cheek, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I can think of a few things...”

Adam felt the heat rush to his face as Lucifer’s lips brushed his ear, sending a thrill down his spine. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this little universe they had created together. It was in moments like this that Adam realized just how much had changed since the day Lucifer first walked into his life.

They were partners in every sense of the word now. From the dazzling world of Hazbin to the quiet, intimate moments they shared late at night.

Adam looked up at Lucifer, his eyes softening as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” Adam murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. “For everything. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Lucifer’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he wrapped his arms around Adam, pulling him close.

“You did this all on your own. I just... gave you a little push.” His voice was warm and affectionate, the teasing edge replaced with something deeper.

A soft gasp escaped Adam as Lucifer shifted himself onto his lap, his fingers tracing along Adam’s shoulders. Adam meet Lucifer’s eyes, watching shyly as Lucifer began to rotate his hips. Grinding their hips together, making sure their hardening cocks beginning to rub together through their pants.

Leaning in close, Lucifer licked at Adam’s lips. He soft tongue tracing Adam’s soft lips until he parted them and his tongue slipped inside, meeting Adam’s.

“Have I ever told you…” Lucifer whispered, running his hands down Adam’s body. He rubbed his chest, traced his stomach and finally, slipped his fingers along Adam’s thighs. “I really love your thighs.”

“Um, no.” Adam said. “Don’t think you’ve ever mentioned my thighs before.”

Chuckling, Lucifer snipped at Adam’s chin and throat. He shifted himself off Adam’s lap, pushing his thighs over his and pressing down harshly with his hips. He purrs as Adam let out a delightful moan.

“I think they’re my second favourite part of you.”

“Second?” Adam laughed, cupping his lover’s face. “And what’s your first favourite?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lucifer asked lovingly, leaning forward to kiss him again. “Your mind. Your brain. I love what you make. I love what you can think up.”

The two began to kiss again, Lucifer beginning to rub his hips firmly against Adam’s. His fingers pulling at Adam’s t-shirt, pushing it up so he could touch the warm flesh. A shiver ran through Adam as he traced his fingers along the soft curve of his back.

“Adam, can we try something new?” he asked.

A hum escaped Adam. “Always.”

“I want…” Lucifer pulled back to meet Adam’s eyes. “I want to thigh fuck you.”

Adam stared. His mind fuzzy.

“What?”

A sharp grin spread across Lucifer’s face, a grin that sent a familiar, exhilarating shiver down Adam’s spine. It was a look Adam had come to know well—too well, in fact. Lucifer seemed to be merging with the very character Adam had painted him as, slipping between the lines of reality and fiction with an unsettling ease. His smile, wide and gleaming, carried all the same energy he embodied as the King of Hell—dazzling, dangerous, and impossibly charming.

Even without the costume or the fake sharp teeth, the effect was the same. His pearly whites gleamed with a hint of mischief, the smile teetering on the edge of intimidation. It was a look that could both seduce and terrify, depending on who was on the receiving end. Adam, sitting there under the weight of that smile, felt his heart skip a beat. He swallowed, unsure whether to laugh or shudder.

“You’re doing it again,” Adam murmured, his voice half-amused, half-nervous as he playfully narrowed his eyes at Lucifer.

Lucifer tilted his head, arching a brow in mock innocence.

“Doing what?” he asked, though his voice carried that telltale lilt, low and smooth, like a purr.

“That grin,” Adam said, pointing at him with a small, nervous laugh. “You look just like him—the King of Hell. Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking or if you’ve really become him.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound rich and velvety, sending another wave of heat through Adam.

“Maybe I have,” he said with a wink, stepping closer, his presence intoxicating.

“Or maybe I’m just giving you what you wanted, hmm? The devilish charm you so meticulously designed.” His finger gently lifted Adam’s chin, bringing their faces close enough for Adam to feel Lucifer’s breath warm against his skin.

Adam’s blush deepened, though he kept his composure, his pulse racing in his ears.

“Well, it’s a little unnerving when the devil in my head starts standing in front of me,” he teased, though his voice wavered slightly under Lucifer’s gaze.

Lucifer’s grin softened, becoming less menacing and more affectionate, though the spark of danger never entirely left his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone softer now, though still steeped in mischief. “I’m still me. Your Lucifer, not the one in the paintings.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat at those words—your Lucifer.

It was in moments like this, when the playfulness gave way to something more sincere, that Adam felt the full weight of their connection. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here, in this strange whirlwind where reality and fantasy blurred so effortlessly. But in Lucifer’s arms, he didn’t mind. There was a warmth, a safety, even in the chaos.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing against Adam’s, not quite a kiss, but a promise of one.

“Besides,” he added with a smirk, pulling back just slightly, “It’s you who brought the devil to life. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

Adam chuckled, though his voice was breathless. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Adam,” Lucifer teased, his eyes gleaming playfully. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

Adam’s heart raced, but he smiled, leaning into Lucifer’s touch. “I think I’m okay with that.”

"Now." Lucifer purred, beginning to strip Adam of his clothes. "Let me show you what I really want from you~"

And that was how Adam later found himself naked, on his knees with Lucifer behind him. A sharp gasp escaped Adam, his green eyes watering as his body jolted back against Lucifer's much warmer body. His blonde haired lover's arms held him against his body, with his hard cock pushed between Adam's thigh and rubbing without mercy against the bottom of Adam's.

"Aw, you're so stressed~" Lucifer cooed, flashing that same grin again. "Let me help with that~"

"Oh god!" Adam gasped, Lucifer's hold on him tightening and snapping his hips even harsher. "You really are the devil in disguise."

Lucifer grinned at that.

[f1shart]

the amount of times i've drawn clowns on this blog is absurd. yes it was twice but that's twice too much

ANYWAY personality swap verona au anyone? its more of a personality inversion since i didn't swap their personalities with one another (og idea by @quejicadelapulpa)... more info ⬇️

idk why when i invert their personalities they become depressed, evil, or both but 😭 i'll go in depth on each of them

Tybalt: he was always a clown but swapbalt is quite literally a clown (he prefers jester). his personality is basically mercutio: playful, friendly, but still prim since i don't see why that would change about him i mean he's still absolutely loaded 🤑 also he loves annoying mercutio, especially since it's not like he'll get his ass whooped if he starts to throw hands (since, yk, tybalt is JACKED)

Mercutio: what i meant when i said they turn depressed when i invert their personalities 💀 swapcutio is a man of few words. he probably speaks very quietly too, only ever getting loud when he's pissed at tybalt. speaking of, he's not as hot-headed as og tybalt mostly cuz i didn't want to just swap their personas and call it a day. nah this is much funnier. i feel bad for him though i mean he's got this fucking clown constantly bothering him and there's nothing he can do about it

Romeo: he's giving pascal and i'm so sorry ab that. anyway this is where i delve more into personal hcs about personality since some of these sims weren't given much originally. i see romeo as a pretty smart kid so i didn't change that about him. i also see him as a bit immature but his wit makes up for that and that's how he's able to charm people. while swapmeo is mature, he is unfortunately quite uncharismatic so who tf knows how he pulled juliette. he's still a romance sim tho so he has his ways...

Juliette: not too much about her. i originally saw her as a little hot-headed similar to tybalt, so i decided to commit to that and make her a very mellow and chill individual. no more raging at online shooter games for her ! swapiette also wears very comfy clothes unlike juliette and dont u worry i kept her uggs. they're simply too iconic 😩

Miranda: she's basically more like her mother. this is where i was conflicted like do i swap the adults' personalities as well?? regardless, swapiranda (i need to stop) is a good christian girl 😌 as you can see she did not dye her hair in this universe and same with hermia but we'll get there. i also removed her beautiful shades SORRY but they're still there in spirit with the blue of her nails. i think swapiranda has that sweet exterior but a snakeish interior in terms of personality

Hermia: i exchanged the goth aesthetic for something more pastel and trendy for the time. you could say swapmia is a bit like og juliette in terms of personality. ooh maybe she doesn't dislike her brother in this universe! though i can see her and juliette getting tired of his smileyness. also yess swapmia's hair is her natural blonde it fits her vibe more.

Puck: last and certainly not least, evil puck 😍 the poor residents of swap veronaville cuz this kid... to me, og puck is kind, shy, dedicated to their tasks but dreadfully incompetent. you'd think he's the media's idea of a fairy- playful and mischievous, but he is surprisingly the opposite. THEN THERE'S SWAP PUCK. absolutely devious. despicable. he plays pranks and they are fucking mean pranks (not as far as battery acid in pop tho 💀 that's one of their cruel jokes. pls tybalt is not actually drinking battery acid) who KNOWS what swapmia sees in them. maybe she's evil too lmfao

anyway that's what i got. tell me why typing this drained 54% of my battery. apple is wild. maybe i'll do st but that's a hell of a lot of work

[orochiposting]

Rini Akahoshi ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱ | The Mimic

art by the talented @ n.luciniart on instagram <3 !!

Full Name: Rini Akahoshi  Nicknames: Rin, Little Rabbit, Bunny, etc Species: Human Sorcerer Age: 25 Birthday: June 21, 1993 Zodiac: Gemini Height: 5’1 or 155 cm Gender: Cis female Sexuality: Pansexual Romantic Interest(s): Choso Kamo MBTI: ESFP Enneagram: 7w8

Class: Second Grade Innate Technique: Blood Mimicry

By ingesting the blood of another sorcerer, or cursed spirit, her technique causes her blood to replicate the origin of the blood’s cursed technique. Her skill and ability to mimic other’s techniques depend on how much blood she’s drank, how long it’s in her system, and how compatible it is with her physique/body. 

Domain Expansion: Flattering Display  

Once her domain is activated, whether or not she has ingested their blood and or flesh, it is guaranteed that she will mimic their technique whenever someone steps into her domain.

Random Facts ૮ . . ྀིა⁩

Born to a family of non-sorcerers, who couldn't comprehend the fact their daughter could see 'monsters' they were unable to.

Works alongside Mahito & Geto or Pseudo-Geto's Group.

Bites the people or things she likes/loves or finds cute. (OR out of self-defense.)

Best friends with Mahito.

Mimics Mahito and Choso's techniques the most often, but is particularly fond of and more practiced with Mahito's.

Carries around transfigured humans in her purse to use for fighting or to play with like 'play-doh.'

She has an opinion on how humans, curses, and half-curses 'taste.' (their blood) She believes humans taste overly sweet, despite the iron. Cursed Spirits are bitter and sour. Half-Curses are the perfect middle ground and flavor palette for her. (like Choso)

Her design was loosely inspired by Pucca (animated series, 2006)

Fell in love with Choso at first sight. Crushed on him for several months, essentially chasing after him while he was oblivious to her affections. When it became impossible to not realize any longer, he'd try to deny her feelings but only for so long <3

Walks around in public with Mahito regularly looking as though she's talking to herself to non-sorcerers or seers.

Spends time with Kechizu and Esou often, with or without Choso.

She truly believes cursed spirits are the 'true humans,' and that they're capable of something stronger than human emotions - even if they don't understand them.

Prefers the company of the cursed spirits in the group, over any human or human sorcerer, like herself.

She adores Hanami and Dagon, and while she's fond of Jogo - he finds her irritating, if not slightly endearing for her unusual devotion to cursed spirits.

Despite not being much younger than him, she views Geto Suguru as a stand-in father figure because of how he treats her compared to the family she used to live with. (and by proxy, sees my other OC Nora Dahl/Doll as a stand-in mother figure.)

Even if she adores her best friend, Mahito, the two go back and forth between being affectionate and getting into fights. The two are too similar for their own good.

Keeps diaries and journals, all organized, to recount her days. (& a more secret notebook to take 'notes' on Choso's likes and dislikes, habits, or interests.)

Likes‹𝟹

Strawberries

Biting (Affectionately <3)

Rabbits/Bunnies

Blood :3

Sour Candy

Her New “Family”

Gardening / Picking Flowers

Giving Gifts

Baking 

Shopping (especially for new clothes)

Mimicking Mahito’s technique to ‘play’ with transfigured humans

Writing

Stuffed Animals

Vampire Novels

Nightcore

The Concept of 'Fate' or 'Destiny'

Causing Chaos

Being Bundled in Blankets & Oversized Sweaters (especially in the winter)

Dislikes‹/𝟹

Her Old Family (By Blood)

Incense

Patterned Socks

Leaving Windows Open

Overly Intricate Nail Art

Being Supervised (or micromanaged)

Religion

Cold Weather

Most Vegetables

Rain or Thunderstorms

Autophobia

Being Called Delusional (even by her doctors)

Classical Music

Formal Dress Attire (that isn't 'trendy' formal wear)

Christmas / Christmas Eve (December as a whole)

Personality ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა 

Positive Traits: Persistent, Extroverted, Flirtatious, Cutesy, Appreciative, Supportive, Ambitious, Efficient, Observant, Quirky, Sentimental, Affectionate, Creative, Playful, Confident, Passionate, Odd, Enthusiastic, Spontaneous, Trusting, Cheerful, Lively, Considerate to her friends, Accepting, Loyal Negative Traits: Sleepy, Emotional, Chaotic, Morbid, Stubborn, Impulsive, Childish, Impulsive, Reckless, Irrational, Jealous, Dramatic/Melodramatic, Self-Indulgent, Unethical, Volatile, Temperamental, Selfish, Cynical, Fanatical, Violent, Impatient, Possessive, Fussy, Irrational, Obsessive

Rough/Base Timeline Leading to Season 1 & 2 + JJK 0 (unless canon 'disproves' it)

June 21, 1993 - Rini was born to a family of non-sorcerers 1999 - She began to see cursed spirits  December 27, 2015 - Her parents handed her to the Kamo Clan so they could 'study' her technique since it was blood-related, like theirs. January 11, 2016 - She bit a clan member out of self-defense, mimicked his technique, and injured him before fleeing - without knowing if the sorcerer succumbed from his wounds. January 15, 2016 - While on the 'run,' she ran into Suguru Geto and Mahito in an alley one evening, the two were intrigued by her panicked state and even more so when a sorcerer rounded the corner after her. They'd assist her in defeating him, before questioning her about her abilities and opinions. Seeing the benefit of having a human sorcerer with little-to-no experience in the jujutsu society, Geto would offer her a place to go and a team to join. 2016 Cont. - She'd begin to grow closer to Mahito, biting him more often and copying his technique more regularly - practicing nearly daily. February 14, 2016 - She'd meet Choso for the first time, and while they'd share no words during the brief encounter - she'd fall for him instantly. -- (will eventually write out full-length versions of her important moments both from her backstory and present in the series line & hopefully accompany them with comms !!)

[splinteredmercies]

SPRING CLEANING ‘24 ␥ Phoebe Huynh (2/?)

fandom: stranger things

pairing: eventual and implied chrissy cunningham/phoebe huynh (oc)

author's note: originally written during the summer of '22, this hasn't seen the light of say other than a friend or two i've sent it to. it was also the time when i challenged myself to write in present tense. i planned it to be a one-shot like almost everything else i've written in the last two years. phoebe and chrissy are the definition of those middle school female friendships you never truly recover from, lol.

word count: 598

It’s the September of 1979. The Huynhs have moved from sunny California to dreary Indiana to open a nail salon in the heart of Hawkins, and Phoebe is entering sixth grade at the local middle school.

Phoebe’s schedule shows her first class is U.S. History with Mrs. Cassandra Callahan. Phoebe makes her way to the class—trying and failing to ignore how she’s the only Asian person in the building and how all the students stare and whisper.

The stares and whispers are worse when she’s one of the first students in the classroom. Her peers make a lousy attempt at sneaking glances at her while she is busy observing the classroom and Mrs. Callahan.

Mrs. Callahan is younger than the cluster of teachers hanging around their doorways in the Social Studies hallway. She’s newlywed, going off how she fiddles with the simple but shiny gold band on her left ring finger and stares at it with a sparkling gaze. Wispy strands of blonde hair fall around her face, and Phoebe can tell she has bright and eager blue eyes.

The bell rings, and Mrs. Callahan walks to her desk with a sunny smile. “Good morning, everyone! Since it’s the first day of school, we’ll do some ice-breakers before going over the syllabus and the class rules and expectations.”

Everyone is quiet except for the occasional shuffle as the kids move around in their seats. Mrs. Callahan brightens at the lack of groans and complaints. She picks up a clipboard with a pencil. “I’m going to call roll.”

Mrs. Callahan makes her way quickly through the list, but her confidence wavers through the H section.

“H-U-Y-N-H? I’m so sorry I can’t pronounce this—” Mrs. Callahan’s voice is high-pitched and hesitant when her eyes fall upon Phoebe. “How do you pronounce your last name, sweetie?”

Something about how Mrs. Callahan says “sweetie” aggravates Phoebe, but she swallows her pride, plasters on a saccharine smile, and gives her the correct pronunciation.

“Oh, I’m never gonna get that correct,” Mrs. Callahan mumbles, scribbling something down on the page.

In front of her, a girl turns around. The sudden motion makes the straw-colored hair in a ponytail whip around her face. “Hi, I’m Chrissy! I like your nail polish color!”

Phoebe looks down at her hands. The polish—a soft pink by the name of “Pink Almond”—had been applied by her mother during their mother-daughter bonding time she insisted on every Saturday night. Her mother had chosen the color, saying that neutrals and soft polishes on her natural nails suited Phoebe for the upcoming school year, and she promised they’d go back to experimenting with the bolder set of trendy colors during the summer.

“Thank you,” Phoebe replies with a clipped, polite tone. She looks back at Chrissy with the hopes the other girl understands she’s hesitant to talk to her and cools down the cheerfulness. It’s simply too early for this.

“Can I see your schedule? I want to see how many classes we have together.”

Phoebe feels like Chrissy is staking her claim on her. And, strangely, finds she doesn’t mind at all. She passes Chrissy her schedule and watches as the girl skims it.

“Sweet! We have basically all our classes together.” Chrissy seems excited at the thought but hesitates at Phoebe’s stony silence. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stick together, but if you—I mean, you don’t have to say yes—”

“No,” Phoebe interrupts. A smile tugs at her lips, one more sincere than the one aimed at Mrs. Callahan earlier. “We can stick together.”

[mynailsart]

2023 REVIEWS OF THE BEST ORGANIC NAIL POLISH

If you have the necessary tools and know how to follow instructions, doing nails may be done quickly and easily, even if you're a beginner. Having the best organic nail polish on hand anytime you want to alter the color of your nails is one of nails supply wholesale the things you need to have to guarantee that your nails will have an attractive finish and last longer than standard nail colors.

However, there is no genuine reason to go to the salon every time. You will succeed even on your first attempt if you know how to adhere to straightforward directions. Soon, you'll discover that doing your nails is quite simple and maybe even enjoyable.

I'll get back to what this post is supposed to achieve. We all understand that it is not realistic to visit the nail salon every time your nails need to be painted. Finding out that you still need to wait hours before your nails are finished could even aggravate you. Even worse are the side effects brought on nails supplys by the hazardous chemicals that are frequently used to clean and paint your nails.

Along with the lengthy exposure to dangerous chemicals, you also run the risk of getting unwanted side effects like nausea, headaches, and confusion.

You must make sure that only safe ingredients are mixed in every bottle of nail polish that you use or permit to be applied on your nails if you want to make sure that all you get from your mani or pedi experience is pure joy.

Searching for the top natural nail polish? For your next application of nail color, you might wish to take into account one or more of the brands listed below.

BONTIME ORGANIC EASY PEEL-OFF NAIL POLISH, WATER-BASED

If you're seeking for a secure substitute for nail paint, this is a fantastic choice. Bontime is a water-based, odorless, economical, and environmentally friendly polish that works well for everyone—even expectant mothers, nursing mothers, children, and toddlers. There are no chemical solvents in this formula, which is entirely organic.

A Bontime polish that is applied correctly can last up to three days. No UV lamp is necessary for the quick drying, simple to use polish to work its magic. When it is already time for a color change, there is no need to apply a polish remover as well. Even a novice won't have any trouble utilizing it the first time because of how simple it is.

PIG GLASS

When it comes to a healthy alternative to nail polish, Piggy Paint is one of the most popular choices. This non-toxic, water-based product is designed to be 5 Free, 7 Free, vegan, and cruelty-free toward animals. No formaldehyde, toluene, dibutyl phthalate (DBP), formaldehyde resin, bisphenol A, ethyl acetate, acetone, or any other chemical is present.

Piggy Paint has no offensive odor because it is produced from natural substances. Since it has no smell, it is a fantastic option for children, pregnant women, nursing mothers, even toddlers and babies.

With each coat of this non-toxic nail paint, all you get is a tough, long-lasting finish that can last for up to two weeks.

Organic Karma Nail Polish

Another excellent option for an organic nail polish that has been getting excellent ratings from many people is Karma organic. The popular two-in-one base coat from the company is mentioned in this product description.

The company is well renowned nail supply online for its all-natural goods that are devoid of formaldehyde, formaldehyde resin, toluene, DBP, and camphor. They are also made with vegans in mind.

Nail Polish Zoya

The well-known nail product company Zoya provides healthier nail lacquer solutions for more attractive, trendy nails. The world's top selections for pregnant women and women who value their health are its nail colors. This nail color is Big 10 free in addition to being vegan-friendly.

If Zoya nail polish is applied correctly, it will leave a long-lasting finish that won't peel, chip off, or break until your nails require a fresh coat of your favorite shade of nail varnish.

It is said that Emosa Nail Polish is completely non-toxic. All of those vibrant colors are created using a water-based solution that also contains natural components. This formulation does not contain any formaldehyde, toluene, or DBP compounds.

Kids adore it since it is also odorless. You may think of Emosa as the finest option for your children acrylic nail brushes because the firm makes sure that the nail polish they offer is environmentally friendly.

And not just that. This particular brand of nail paint has an easy-soak formula. Simply soak your nails in warm water for one to two minutes if you ever want to change the color. Without the use of nail polish remover, the previous coating can be simply peeled off from one corner.

[blissfullyalice]

wanted connections | instagram | discography | thread tracker | full navi | pinterest | full bio [ in the works ] -- the group

— BASICS ☆

full name:;  alice jillian slater

nicknames:;  ali, al

gender:;  born female

pronouns:;  she/her

sexual preference:;  proud bisexual

relationship role:;  submissive

birthdate & age:;  june 26th, 1995, aged twenty-seven years

birthplace:;  new orleans, louisiana til she moved to glendale, california at twenty

zodiac sign:;  cancer

currently resides:;   cherrywood, nevada -- moved when she was twenty five back in the spring time

— APPEARANCES ☆

face & voice claim:;  ariana grande

height:;  just over 5′

eyes:;  has auburn brown eyes -- has 20/20 vision but enjoys wearing fashion glasses sometimes

hair:;  naturally medium brown, sometimes dyes blonde or a few other colours

body art:;  has tattoos on her arms and hands, has ear piercings

other distinguishing features:;  has a few scars due to animals accidentally hurting her, her big brown eyes, eye makeup, signature ponytail, creative nails

fashion sense:;  classy, casual, fashionable, comfy, girly, trendy

body type:;  she’s got very slender, slight curved body but generally a small gal

— PERSONALITY ☆

traits:; sassy, sweet, kind-hearted, child-like, damaged, a bit shy, off-putting, kind

fears:;  not finding love, being hurt by someone she trusts again, becoming hated

hobbies:;  singing, writing, hanging out with friends, makeup, fashion, nail art

skills:;  singing, acting, playing guitar, drawing, writing songs and poems

quirks:;  a bit clumsy, sassy, damaged, a bit shy, off-putting

overall:;  alice is a fun loving and sweet girl, not wanting to hurt anyone if she can help it. if there's an issue, she'll never just let is slide if she knows she can fix it. she's also very work focused, trying to make a living while having the best time. she loves people but also values her alone time with her work for the most part.

— FAMILY & CONNECTIONS ☆

mother:;  annabelle slater

father:;  nicholas slater

siblings:;  an older brother named axel slater

spouse / lover:;  none currently

children:;  none yet, maybe one day

pets:;  a few dogs, a pig and wants a bunny and a fennec fox

best friends:;  marianna valdez, axel slater (more to come)

ex boyfriend -- jaxson anderson ( still has secret feelings she never shared )

— FAVOURITES ☆

ice cream flavour:;  strawberry, unicorn

food:;  italian dishes and asian dishes as well as sweets

time of the day / night:;  both

season:;  spring

holiday:;  halloween, christmas, new years

animal:;  bunnies & fennec foxes

colour:;  purple, blue & pink

scent:;  pink sugar, lavender

musician/band:;  lights, waterparks, billie eilish, queen

— OTHER ☆

occupation:;  make artist and influencer/vlogger on youtube and instagram

education:;  high school graduate, went to a college for a couple years to learn about makeup and fashion

bad habits:;  drinking, pushing people away, downing herself mentally

a cherished item:;  her hair and her first guitar

random fun fact:;  she’s a big fan of lace and see through fabrics under her clothing

random fun fact 2:;  she wants to create her own fashion line one day

— BIOGRAPHY ☆

trigger warning:; none yet, will write soon

—- C H I L D H O O D  —-

[coming soon]

—-  B A C K G R O U N D  —-

alice was the youngest, second and final to her parents annabelle and nicholas slater. she grew up mostly uncaring and just wanting to have fun with her brother and later on her friends. as she grew she just got really attached to having people around and it'd scare her to be alone too much til she started her work. her online work kept her busy in her alone time and she started to enjoy doing that mostly alone.

growing up in new orleans had her brother traveling and hiking a lot. as they got older they and learned more they went ghost hunting for fun and really just had a close connection together. she'd never do anything without her brother knowing. she stayed as close to him as possible, which has remained to this day even though moving and jobs keep them apart. calls, texts and videos never do. alice lived in glendale with her brother for a while once they were ready to leave home. they still would visit their parents. however, soon the time came for her to be on her own again. so she moved to where she is now, it's not easy but she's made it work thus far.

—- C U R R E N T L Y  —-

alice lives in cherrywood being very on her own as she’s not very welcoming to anyone due to her own fears from past issues in dating and friends leaving or hurting her, yet she also doesn’t want to be hated. this left her unsure of many and a bit off putting not wanting anyone to get close and hurt her again. she focuses on her music and makeup brand to get her through hardships, mostly her makeup being her main focus. she also draws and creates fashion as a hobby but it’s not something she’s sure about perusing quite yet.

[ will try to update as time goes on ]

[keroppidreams]

GNTM SI/OC Lore Dump

i originally wanted to post an entire doc for revised lore/updates but that'll take forever. so have the short version instead!

Klara -> Luna

"wait she's getting her name changed?!" Yes 😭 listen klara worked as a pun (invisible amanto whose name means "clear/transparent"). plus she doesnt look much like a klara. she looks more like a luna

JOB CHANGE (nurse -> nursery school aide): if shes gonna be a SI/sona, she's gotta deal with children on a daily basis lol. difference is that she wants to make a career out of it and become a teacher!

Backstory: A bovine amanto from a planet called Io. Very idyllic and quiet. She was born in the capital of Io; mother worked as a maid while her older sister would occasionally leave their home to work on other planets. She always admired their work ethics and became determined to pursue a career in education to give them a more comfortable life. Ended up working at a nursery school in Edo.

Said nursery school is filled with wacky alien kids. 😔they can be shooting lasers from their eyes and she'd be like "omg so cute!!" (gin is screaming in the background)

Introverted, ditzy, loves doting on kids. they like her but don't take her seriously as a result rip.

Her species are known for their enhanced strength; while she isn't on the same level as a yato (especially since shes a civilian), she can probably break someone's hand if she applied a bit of pressure.

Due to this, her strength has made her pretty clumsy. Tendency to accidentally break fragile things when shes excited

Originally she was supposed to meet gin when shes getting bothered at a cafe, but i think it'd be funnier if she saw him crash into a pole on her first day at earth

Dere type: probably bakadere or a very mild tsundere

Fun fact: she decorates her horns!! definitely seen as a trendy thing on her planet. sorta like painting your nails.

Reina

No changes in her personality & interests: she's still an extremely shy and nervous girl who's secretly really into nerdy hobbies. Wants to become a manga artist

No longer an Amanto; she's just a (mostly) normal human who got cursed to turn into a sparrow under certain circumstances

Probably born with the curse? Got ostracized as a result and ended up living with her aunt and uncle when she was ~12 .

They're very loving and kind tho!! They own a traditional sweets shop where Reina works at.

Loves junk food and sweets. Quickest way to win her over is by bribing her with food. Also really likes seeds and taking baths thanks to her curse.

How did she meet Hijikata? Via chatroom while he was possessed by that otaku spirit. They were supposed to meet up to chat about their interests and work on a doujin but otsuu arc happens, and she finds out that her friend was sorta basically the demon vice commander of the shinsengumi. awkward.

Still has that pet cat that tries to eat her whenever she turns into a sparrow rip

Becomes close friends with Tae who takes her under her wing (may or may not learn how to wield a naginata to boost confidence)

Fun fact: Loves to play dating sims (both otome and bishoujo). Kondo probably offhandedly mentions it and she starts yapping.

Dere type: 100% dandere. suddenly forgets how to breathe when hiji pulls up.

[crownandnails]

Accessorize Your Faith with Contemporary Christian Jewelry

Looking to infuse a touch of faith and style into your daily attire? You're in the right place! Our online store offers a diverse selection of modern Christian jewelry that not only looks fashionable but also holds deep significance. From necklaces to bracelets to earrings, each piece is meticulously crafted to make a powerful statement about your faith.

What's truly remarkable is that it's more than just about aesthetics; it's about feeling a connection to something greater. Christian jewelry serves as a portable token of your faith, a constant reminder of God's presence wherever you may be – whether at work, running errands, or socializing with friends.

Moreover, there's a special essence to wearing jewelry with a narrative. Every item in our collection draws inspiration from timeless biblical truths. So, when you wear one of our contemporary Christian pieces, you're not just adorning yourself with jewelry; you're sharing a part of your faith journey with the world.

Whether you aim to add a dash of style to your outfit or a hint of faith to your day, Crown and Nails provides everything you need to make a meaningful statement.

Why Do People Wear Christian Jewelry?

Contemporary Christian jewelry goes beyond mere adornment; it reflects a deeply rooted faith and spiritual connection. Similar to how wedding rings symbolize lifelong commitment, Christian jewelry holds a special place in our hearts, representing intimate connections and cherished memories.

Each piece carries profound meaning, symbolizing Christ's sacrifice and the boundless love of God. Our intricately designed jewelry is crafted not just for adornment but also for inspiration and upliftment. With every piece you wear, you carry a tangible symbol of devotion and gratitude, a constant reminder of God's presence in your life.

Whether you seek a meaningful gift or wish to add a touch of faith to your personal style, explore our custom contemporary Christian jewelry collection. Let each piece serve as a beacon of hope and a testament to your unwavering faith.

Explore Our Stunning Contemporary Christian Jewelry Collection:

Contemporary Christian Necklaces:

CROWN & NAILS HORIZONTAL NECKLACE: This handcrafted necklace features a horizontal cross pendant symbolizing Jesus' sacrifice, engraved with Isaiah 53:5.

CROWN & NAILS VERTICAL NECKLACE: Inspired by the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, this necklace features a vertical cross pendant with Isaiah 53:5 engraving.

FREEDOM NECKLACE: Crafted from mother of pearl and sterling silver, this necklace features a dove pendant symbolizing the Holy Spirit.

Contemporary Christian Bracelets:

CROWN OF THORNS NEON ADJUSTABLE BRACELET: Plated with 18K gold, this bracelet features a vibrant neon center encircled by cubic zirconia and engraved with Isaiah 53:5.

CROWN OF THORNS NEON CORD BRACELET: Made from 925 sterling silver and plated with 18K gold, this bracelet blends style with spirituality.

FREEDOM CORD BRACELET: Celebrate freedom in Christ with this bracelet inspired by 2 Corinthians 3:17.

Contemporary Christian Earrings:

FREEDOM EARRINGS: Crafted with a dove symbolizing the Holy Spirit, these earrings celebrate the freedom found in Christ.

Styling Tips for Christian Contemporary Jewelry:

Now that you've chosen your favorite pieces of Christian jewelry, here are some styling tips to create unique and fashionable looks:

Layering: Mix and match different Christian necklaces for a trendy and meaningful layered look.

Stackable Bracelets: Express your individuality by wearing multiple bracelets for a dynamic effect.

Statement Earrings: Make a bold statement with our Holy Spirit-inspired Freedom Earrings.

Share the Joy of Faith with Our Christian Jewelry

Looking for the perfect gift? Our contemporary Christian jewelry makes thoughtful and meaningful gifts for any occasion. Whether it's a birthday, anniversary, or graduation, a piece of Christian jewelry is sure to be cherished for years to come.

Step Out and Showcase Your Faith

Ready to step out stylishly and showcase your faith with our fabulous contemporary Christian jewelry? Explore the captivating collection at Crown and Nails for pieces that elevate any ensemble. Whether you're looking for a heartfelt gift or personal adornment, our Christian jewelry offers the perfect blend of faith and fashion. Don't hesitate – explore our collection today and let your accessories radiate the light of Christ!

Experience Faith-Fueled Fashion with Crown and Nails:

At Crown and Nails, we understand the importance of faith-based fashion in today's culture. We are dedicated to crafting premium contemporary Christian apparel and jewelry that not only exude style but also reflect your relationship with Christ. Inspired by Scriptures, our designs are created with love, grace, and hope woven into every detail.

With each piece from Crown and Nails, you're not just acquiring clothing or accessories – you're embracing a message of hope, love, and redemption that resonates within you. As you wear our Christian clothing and jewelry, you become a living testimony to the transformative power of faith in God.

Whether you're searching for a standout Christian tee, a hoodie representing Christ's love, or a breathtaking jewelry piece, we invite you to discover our collection of faith-filled fashion here at Crown and Nails. Our contemporary Christian apparel and jewelry serve as steadfast reminders of God’s saving grace, allowing believers to spread the message of redemption through Christ effortlessly wherever they go.

[alisonblackmanadvicesisters]

Celebritips are Faux Nails Transforming Your Real Nails To Trendy and Chic

My mother had fingernails that were fragile and just wouldn’t grow. She was always saying “oops I broke a nail.” I inherited this unfortunate trait.  I’ve tried acrylics, dips, powders, and all sorts of potions to make my nails stronger and longer. Some work, a little. But if you spend hours a day at a typewriter, it’s difficult to deal with the inevitable. Mostly, I ended up cutting off whatever…

[nailsupplyblog]

WAYS TO GAIN VISIBILITY FOR YOUR NAIL BUSINESS

Gaining recognition for your nail art is a crucial component of growing your clientele, but how do you accomplish it? Should you focus on growing your social media audience or should you try some traditional marketing strategies? There are several power fusions that are worthwhile experimenting with.

Recently, a client asked me for assistance via direct message. He was a young man who was just beginning out as a nail technician. Things were starting to look really bad after a whole year of nails.No matter what he did, he was only able to attract three regular customers. He was having a tremendously nail polish lasts the longest without chipping difficult time selling himself and getting in front of potential customers. I was very eager to learn more about his current method because I wanted to positively steer him toward approaches that would produce greater results. Let me start by saying that I have enormous respect for anyone who is ready to seek assistance and acknowledge that there may be another way to handle a business that feels like it is headed for disaster.

1.Create a social media profile.

Social media, particularly Instagram and Facebook, is the solution when you consider the environment we live in and how we communicate, get in touch, and remain current on the newest nail trends or celebrity rumors. This is the modern-day version of window shopping. Your work need not be the sole focus of your social media profiles; just the majority what type of nail polish lasts the longest of them. That would be difficult to start with. Post about the topics that interest you. Post nail technicians' work that motivates you. Post your creation on a practice hand. The easiest approach for people to get to know you is through your social media profiles. Your business card. ensure them see all the good things by making sure they see everything.

2. Advance with it.

With this tactic, you essentially have to get your work ON people. Your close friends and family are the people you can influence the most easily. Try out trendy patterns on your mother, sisters, sisters-in-law, cousins, aunts, and best friend from school, among others. They should be scheduled similarly to normal clients. Filling your chair and making your booth appear busy is excellent. It's advantageous because these are frequently your most challenging customers. You'll have to share your efforts in the beginning. Even if it seems apparent, try to choose people who have active, busy lives. Doing nails for your elderly grandmother who doesn't go out often doesn't count if your goal is exposure.

3. Model Request.

You must work to widen your possible client base while juggling your freebies for friends and family. Go for a stroll across your area. Examine your local grocery shop, bank teller, doctor's office, yoga studio, hair salon, etc. Decide which individuals interact frequently with others and/or already acrylic powder wholesale near me get their nails done. Depending on your personality, it could feel difficult to approach someone. The simplest method to get over that emotion is to greet them with kindness, smile sincere, and complement their hands. Inform them that you need hand models to display your work. Tell them about your experience doing nails and how you are now attempting to grow your clientele

[ohcanadashop]

How Should Women Wear Hoodies? || OhCanadaShop

Only a billion different approaches exist for doing this. Hoodies can be worn in two major ways, in reality.

COMPLETELY WORKOUT STYLE

When you choose a full-on sports suit, this hoodie look is ideal for the gym or other sporting events. It's also a great option for traveling or weekend getaways. With shoes, sweatpants, leggings, shorts, a women's sweatshirt, and a baseball cap, and those items, this place is all about the unfashionable attitude. It's cool, laid-back, and seems quite natural.

STYLE SOPHISTICATION IN STREET

Visit mother. Imagine wearing a hoodie with any outfit in the world. More so, choose hoodies for women instead of coats or sweaters, and never forget to add a daringly feminine touch like stilettos, red lipstick, statement jewelry, or gorgeous nails.

Many fashionable girls wear hoodies as outerwear and team them with any type of skirt, heels, or even simple shoes (ankle boots, sneakers, brogues). The appearance is both very adaptable and cutting-edge.

Wear a huge hoodie as a dress for a really sultry and powerful look that is ghetto glam influenced (steal one from your big guy if you have to). For a more casual, "okay-girl" kind of look, wear it with excellent shoes like heel boots or sneakers and wear bold lips. or complete makeup. I ADORE this fashion. It seems effortless in a way, but it's also incredibly empowering, sensual, and urban.

Another method to wear hoodies for women that doesn't involve any added glitz is to dress them up like sweaters. A sweatshirt worn underneath a leather or blazer jacket is the ideal fashion contrast for a classy ensemble.

Hoodies For Women: Street And Gym Wear In Canada

Ladies' hoodies are not a new invention; they only appear to be so because of the way we wear them and because fashion as a whole has become more flexible or varied. Nowadays, street style and individual style are everything, with a strong focus on the adage that "everything goes with anything." If you want, consider it a middle finger to the norms of fashion.

Hoodies for women come in second place. the fixation with fitness and athletics that seems to transcend physical appearances and is something we all have these days. Hello, sportswear for the gym. Nowadays, sportswear is so trendy and cool that you can wear it outside of the gym. Of course, this is the situation with women's hoodies. Leggings, crop tops, mesh materials, baseball caps, and sweatpants are all components of a look that is very casual yet stylish.

Why on earth would we change and switch 1,236,345 outfits because we had to go to work, spin class, grocery shop, and then [insert activity] on the same day? Therefore, wearing fashionable hoodies, for example, to the office and pairing them with more polished or smart pieces is socially acceptable and even trendy these days, especially if you know you have a lot of after-work errands to run that day. Put on a basic or dressier hoodie, black fancy slacks or a pencil skirt, and high heels. Despite sounding absurd, it has a chic appearance.

In Italy, are you looking for Canada Women hoodies online? Shop our selection of unique, handcrafted, and personalized products to find the greatest Comfy Canadian Hoddies For Adult.

To reach us out in offline mode do not forget to visit

Oh Canada Shop

Suite 263, 12-16715 Yonge St , Newmarket, Ontario, CANADA

Postal Code: L3X1X4

Email: info@OhCanadaShop.com

Visit Our Website- https://www.ohcanadashop.com/

[topteny]

55+ Cute Mother's Day Nails Designs That Make Your Mom Happy in 2022

2022 Mother’s Day drew near! Our moms instilled in us the ability to love; it is the best time to show love and appreciation for our precious mom. Usually, we think of organizing a pleasant day trip anywhere or reserving a table at a great restaurant and doing lots of sweet things, but what about … ... Discover More @ https://www.pouted.com/mothers-day-nails-designs-make-mom-happy/

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Today I will pretend that I am working on my fic by nailing down my headcanons for TMA S1 clothing and outfits.

Jon

At work he is always in professional officewear, always put togther, has a sharp haircut. Rarely a full on suit but sometimes the elements of one, like a vest with no jacket. Always a tie. Gravitates toward white shirts and dark everything else because he thinks dark colours all automatically match each other (they don't). No patterns. No accessories. Always looks uncomforable in his own clothes, like they were bought for someone else. No one ever taught him how to dress himself nicely so he is doing his best approximation of what others are doing and it only mostly works (it would never occur to him that his belt and shoes should be the same colour, for example). He irons everything on laundry day but then wears clothes for multiple days in a row because he has no time/is secretly living in the archives for most of the week, so his overall look is far more rumpled than he realises.

At home (on the increasingly rare days that he isn't at the institute) he just dresses in his old uni clothes, which lean towards alt and gnc stuff. This has more to do with the fact that he cbf to upate his wardrobe (shopping is hell) and less to do with it actually reflecting how he wants to present himself now as an adult, but it's fine because he never goes anywhere. There's some skirts in there, and merch for weird indie bands that no one's ever heard of. "Somehow" he got custody of a few of Georgie's old shirts in the break up and he will wear these to sleep in because they are soft and loose and comfy on him (the air quotes are because he is in denial about being a clothing thief). He owns eyeliner that he doesn't wear anymore because he's convinced himself that he's too mature for it now. He has a jacket covered in pins for various causes that he also never wears anymore but he loves it too much to get rid of it.

Martin

Also professional, but a much softer version. Like Jon he is afflicted with desperately-need-to-look-like-I-know-what-I-am-doing-even-though-I-don't disease, and that reflects in his clothing choices. He always wears multiple layers and his clothes all trend towards being too baggy, both for trans reasons and also the dismal realities of shopping for plus size clothing on a budget (more often than not, you just have to buy whatever you can physically put on your body even if it will never look right or fit properly). His default setting is a collared shirt with a cardigan over the top, but the collar still visible. Prefers cooler colours because warm tones bring out the red in his skin and he worries about looking flustered all the time. Paints his nails sometimes when he is feeling a bit gender. His mother had his ears pierced when he was little but he never wears earrings.

His at home clothes are exactly the same as his work clothes. Martin doesn't have spare cash for extra outfits; he has to buy nicer things for work, so when something becomes too worn to get away with in the office he just wears it around the house until it's too faded and full of holes to hang onto. He will patch or darn things that he particularly likes or thinks he can get some more life out of. Taught himself how to do this by watching youtube videos and is actually pretty good at it; some of his patched clothes could almost look trendy! He probably has a handful of clothing items that are actually good because he bought them for himself as a treat, like a dress shirt in a colour that matches his eyes, and some pants with a particularly flattering waistline. He wears these things when visiting his mum because he wants to look put together but also because he usually needs some cheering up on those days.

Sasha

She's a woman trying to be taken seriously in her profession, so she dresses seriously. Lots button downs tucked into high waisted skirts, a few dresses but nothing too feminine. Nothing with hemlines above the knee or anything that shows her shoulders. Nothing too form-fitting, and she's also usually wearing mutliple layers. Subdued but nice patterns. She walks a fine line between not wanting to look like a grandma but also avoiding anything too modern (lots of old fashioned types in academia). Always considers her appearance and puts together outfits where everything matches and looks flattering. Prefers muted but warm colours, browns and oranges and yellows. Jewellery is always simple and understated, like some small gold hoops that are okay to wear every day, and maybe a necklace. Always wears her hair up off her face and natural makeup. She gets herself french manicures when she has the spare cash and feels like treating herself.

Outside of work, she has a really defined style and it's much more modern and less understated. A go-to outfit would be all fitted black clothes but dressed up with bright heels, belt and chunky earrings all in a matching colour, like an eye-catching red. Her hair is usually down and curly.

Tim

Strays a lot closer to the 'casual' side of business-casual than anyone else is comfortable with. He's received warnings for dress code violations before (none of the others ever have). Tends towards close-fitting clothing, dark slacks matched with shirts that have lots of colour and patterns (but rarely anything that clashes or veers too far away from office-appropriate). No hawaiian shirts or jeans. He used to have coloured hair and matching nails but was told it violated the dress code so he stopped doing that back in his research days. Always wears earrings and often they are 'fun', like a set of studs that look like little birds or something. Also has some rings, and a nice watch that his parents got him as a graduation present.

Outside of work, yes hawaiian shirts and jeans, and maybe he fucks around with some jewellery or makeup if he has a date or is feeling a bit gender. That would be his go-to leaving-the-house outfit. He is someone who has very distinct 'outside clothes' that look good and he will let people see him wearing, and 'inside clothes' which do not look good and no one but Danny and Sasha have ever seen him wearing. His inside clothes tend to be old mismatched workout clothes with the elastic starting to go. He will wear these all day even if he has no intention of working out.

Elias

Always impeccably tailored three-piece suits. Definitely not afraid of colour, but he would never wear anything remotely close to being described as 'flamboyant'. Prefers solid colours over prints or patterns, but definitely owns some pinstripes. Always matches his shoes to his belt. No jewellery other than the occasional wedding ring (it's always a different one and never lasts more than a few months) and a series of very expensive watches and tie pins (he must own dozens of them). Doesn't go overboard with eye imagery; restricts himself to cufflinks that have either eyes or the institute logo on them (he has several different sets because, like the watches, they are often anniversary presents and he has so many anniversaries). He will sometimes wear some subtle eyeliner because he wants to frame his eyes, but this is only for special occasions. Never looks anything less than 110% put together, and overall his aesthetic is what Jon's is trying (but failing) to be.

Outside of work, he is still always in very expensive clothes (because Peter pays for his entire wardrobe) but not suits, just the dressier side of casual. He does the annoying rich person thing where all of his clothes are tailored to fit him, so even his casual wear looks effortlessly amazing. A normal outfit for a relaxing day at home would be something like grey slacks and a black turtleneck (but in a distinctly whoreish way).

[sachifukyo]

BlackPink as your childhood friends

(🖤) . (m a s t e r l i s t)

🍥JISOO🍥

① That friend that walks home with you after school, holding your hand.

② Every day before classes, she helps you with the tasks "Did you do your homework?" "It's your turn to write the date on the board, want me to help you?" "Did you eat breakfast?" And after classes, she reminds you to take everything with you "Don't leave your sweater" "Don't forget your lunch bag" "You are forgetting your umbrella, dummy"

③ LOVES to play boardgames with you. Because she always wins

④ Literature club!!!! With cookies!!!!

⑤ Every year she plans a surprise party for you with your classmates :(

⑥ She is the purest kids you'll ever met

🍥 JENNIE🍥

① MAKE UP TIMEEEEE!!! She and you steal your mother's make up and heels to make the fanciest shows, I SWEAR

② Pijama parties are so iconic, with magazines and trendy movies. Painting nails together, matching pijamas

③ She likes when you curl her hair or when she brushes yours 💖

④ Your both design clothes for your Barbies

⑤ Karaoke of Barbie's songs is a MUST

🍥ROSÉ🍥

① She has the biggest care bear collection, I JUST KNOW IT

② Loves to write you letters, songs, poems or notes that she hides on your backpack or notebooks. Also expect a lot of stickers all around your stuff

③ Brings you candy and gives you hugs

④ You were the first to listen her song writing skills

⑤ You once gave her a rock you found on the floor and she keeps it like her biggest treasure

⑥ She has your name inside her heart necklace :(

🍥LISA🍥

① Playing tag is just W I L D

② if you are distracted she will 100% carry you from behind just to scare you an then Naruto run laughing expecting you to run after her

③ Really REALLY funny, she always knows how to light up the mood

④ She never liked to play with toys, she was more the type of kid that likes to run freely and imagine games

⑤ Arcade friends!!!!

⑥ You will never get bored of her. Promise

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Month 2022, Day 10: Bitter Silence

Higurashi Month prompts archive: AO3 

It is, Shion thinks, a wonderful night.

Others may disagree with her: rain is pouring down through the streets, plastering everything in shades of grey and making the darkened glass on every building ominously slick and shining, and there is a chill in the air that the water brings with it, promising damp and discomfort and all manner of uncomfortable things.

But Shion has always enjoyed the rain, even before last week.

Last week, when she had awoken to a sore throbbing in her stomach, blood on her kimono, and the familiar weather-beaten walls of the ancient Sonozaki house around her. She’d followed the voices to a boy that reminded her painfully of Satoshi-kun, holding the ancestral bell that would solidify her claim on the family.

She had found out that Onee had given her one last gift.

And in that shining morning as she stood before the shattered, burned remnants of the school that had consumed her friends and the only family she had ever loved, Shion had tasted the damp sweetness of lingering rain as the sun finally broke through the clouds.

She smiled fondly beneath her scarf.

She isn’t here for pleasure, though –strictly business. Cleaning up the dregs of Mifune’s traitorous followers is a time-consuming job, but Shion has finally taken on the role that she had been born for, and even after her sister’s comforting presence had vanished like the ghost it was, she is a Sonozaki and she will not falter.

Perhaps some would think it madness, to have the leader herself sweeping through the city. But madness is the way of Hinamizawa, of Onigafuchi. Her village had not been called the Abyss of Demons for nothing in ancient times, and, Shion liked to think, her ancestor’s blood ran true in her.

She flexes the fingers of one hand. It is, perhaps, the only nervous tic she has, her hand twitching with the memory of when three of those nail beds had been tingling, raw, and bleeding for months on end.

Shion had done it even so, and she rather thought, as her feet splashed through puddles, feeling the damp hems of her kimono wind around her bare calves, that such brutality and such savagery were unknown here, in the big city. The fingernail-ripper had not been the only torture tool in the Sonozaki basement, merely the only one that Shion had used on herself. Her time at her mother’s side, trying to keep the family together after the Great Hinamizawa Disaster, had taught her the use of much, much more.

Shion lightly twirls the umbrella that hangs over her shoulder, shielding her from being soaked in the steady downpour, as she turns down a blind alley, opening the door in the wall there.

With her distinctive green hair dyed a deep black and her exotic teal-green eyes shadowed by the darkness of night all around her, it is exceedingly difficult to recognize her, Shion knows. She is relying on it, as a matter of fact, for her umbrella has no weapon hidden within it, and guns are such noisy, clumsy things.

“A moment of your time, gentlemen?” she asks politely of the half-dozen men clustered within the warehouse. They are wearing Western suits, but thankfully none are cliché enough to don sunglasses, even though Shion sees the bulge of several pistols under their jackets. That will be troublesome, no doubt.

“…What?”  a particularly bullish man, who seems to be the leader, asks after a moment. Shion supposes she can understand that: here she is, a lovely woman dressed in a simple, somber kimono and with trendy scarf wrapped around the lower part of her face, holding an umbrella coquettishly over her shoulder as she asks what is almost certainly a group of ne’er-do-wells for a moment of their time. Shion doesn’t really have cause to smooth over her regional accent –not publicly and not often– but she can definitely do it. She went to a private Catholic school, after all.

In any case, as a polished woman of exquisite middle age and an impeccable manner of speaking (bleh, to all those hours of speech lessons at St. Lucia’s), Shion is certainly the last person these men might expect to accost them, especially in an empty warehouse late at night.

“I’m afraid that I found myself lost upon visiting this city for the first time, and as my phone has died, I began trying doors to ask someone for directions.” Shion said, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes a little as she assumes the most vapid expression that she can. “I don’t suppose any of you could spare a minute or two to direct this poor old woman?”

The first thug groans a little, turning to the others, and jerks his chin at what looks to be the youngest and skinniest with an exasperated grunt. The young twentysomething hastens over to her, and Shion offers him her arm, playing the part of a needlessly polite dame to the hilt. He grasps her arm rather gingerly, hurrying her to the door to undoubtedly get her out of the way of whatever illicit conversation is about to resume, and Shion smiles behind her scarf again as she is rushed into the hallway outside.

He probably doesn’t even feel it as the scissors, sharpened to a needlelike point, pierce all the way between his ribs and into his heart in one swift thrust. Shion catches the body as it drops, only making sure to lower him to the ground without a sound before she retreats, swiftly moving back the way she had come. She leaves the corpse where he lays, sprawled on the ground between the docking area and the warehouse proper, slowly bleeding out onto the cold concrete ground.

Her black-dyed hair swishes behind her like gossamer as Shion takes her place behind some machinery, carefully cleaning her scissors on a loose end of her scarf, an end that is soon tucked under her collar. She won’t have any loose drips of blood falling and alerting her enemies, when she catches up to them again.

Shion doesn’t particularly like killing, but these men had sealed their fates. She had put out the announcement last week, just as she had returned from Hinamizawa with the bell. She was the new leader of the Sonozaki clan, and anyone who dared to side with Mifune’s faction after the old man had died would be hunted down and killed without mercy. Such was the path of the demon –the path that Shion had set her feet on with indomitable resolution, in order to carry on her family’s legacy.

She…didn’t care for her legacy.

She didn’t particularly care for her family, even.

But without her twin, without Satoshi-kun, without everyone that had been dear to her in Hinamizawa –what was her point in living? Being tied to the Sonozaki family, serving as the heir…it was the only thing she could think to do, the only bit of grounding stability Shion had left in her life. If not this, then what? Apart from her duty to her family, the duty that had made her and Onee’s lives a misery as children, Shion had nothing now.

So she may as well fulfill it to the best of her ability, until her body ran down and finally freed her spirit.

She spun the scissors around her thumb, and smirked behind her scarf.

 ~*~

Half a dozen men.

They were fairly easy to pick off, since it was less than five minutes before several of them were sent out after the man who had supposedly ushered her to the exit.

Shion’s blades slid across one man’s throat quickly, like a secret kiss shared between them, and down he dropped with a final gurgle as rich red blood sprayed free. It alerted his partner, but Shion was already ducking behind a machine as gunfire rang out, her long blackened hair wafting behind her on the breeze.

“Damn you!” the man shouted. “Boss-”

His last words ended in another choking gurgle as her scissors, thrown with deadly accuracy, took him in the throat.

“Hmph.” Shion straightened up from her place crouched on the machine she had judged as easiest to climb. She dropped down, her wet kimono flapping about her ankles, and stepped over to retrieve her scissors, pulling them free as a long, glistening ribbon of blood dripped down to the ground. Guns were so very noisy, but Shion had grown up with Kasai, and she knew how to handle them better than anyone who wasn’t in a special ops group.

The weight of a machine gun tucked into the crook of her elbow was almost familiar, nostalgic, as she picked it up and turned around just in time to catch one of the thugs running out of the door to the docking area.

“You-”

Gunfire blasted through the air as the man dropped, barely able to level his own weapon before Shion’s brief spray of bullets caught him in the chest. The next men weren’t so stupid as to run out into a hail of bullets, but that was alright. Shion knew what she was doing.

Her footsteps glide across the ground, soft and silent, and before the final two men can do anything, she has already burst through the door again, returning to the larger space, and as Shion plants a foot and spins, she catches sight of both men on either side of the door, pistols drawn. She fires with one hand and swings out with the other, hurling her scissors again before she ducks and sways backwards.

The man on the left drops, riddled with bullets.

The man on the right drops, her scissors having taken him in an unexpectedly lucky shot through the eye.

Shion hums her awe as she straightens up, using one edge of her kimono to wipe the machine gun of its fingerprints before she drops it carelessly in the doorway, stepping over to remove her scissors. She has one last thing to do –one last little ritual to perform– and then she can continue this mission finished.

 ~*~

“Are you Kuchisake-onna?”

Shion pauses with her foot on the bottom step of the staircase up to the train station, her umbrella once again cradled over one shoulder as the rain hushes down around her.

She turns, and beholds a boy.

It isn’t Satoshi-kun, or that Otobe boy –he’s brunet, for one thing, with short wavy hair that’s several shades darker than it should be, soaked with rain. His eyes –eye, the right one is covered by bandages– is brown, an amber-brown that promises to be mercurial should his mood ever change. He seems somber now, though, as somber as the pitch-black coat that enfolds his slender body like he is drenched in ink. As though to sharpen the contrast, the shirt beneath that coat is white, and one arm is in a white sling. He is tall for his age, very tall, but also very slim, which made him look even taller.

The expression as he looks up at her is deep and dark, as unfathomable as the bottommost reaches of the sea. For a brief, hair-raising moment, reminiscent of the one in which Rena stared up at a stormy grey sky much like this one and talked of Oyashiro-sama, Shion is overcome by the thought that here is another person that possesses a demon like my own.

“It’s rude to accuse someone of being a yūrei so late at night, young man.” she says, her face crinkling in a coquettish smile beneath her scarf as she lightly twirls her umbrella. “What on earth makes you say such a thing?”

“Ah, you have the face-covering, the pale skin, and the long black hair.” the boy singsongs, losing his startlingly inscrutable expression like it was a spasm as his own face lights up in a sunny smile, pointing to his cheek to indicate her own scarf. “And you’re a beautiful woman…”

His smile darkens, becomes something ominous, knowing.

“…carrying a sharp object at night.”

Shion draws in a quick, silent breath through her teeth, dropping her vapid persona as she narrows her eyes. This boy is just like Rena –disturbingly smart for his age, and (perhaps) intuitive enough to border on psychic.

Hmm…

He isn’t armed, not visibly, and Shion would like to think that she can handle herself against a teenager with one arm in a sling even if he is armed with a gun.

She removes her foot from the step, turning to face him.

“And what would you do if I wasn’t a Kuchisake-onna?” she asks, showing her own steel as her voice hardens and her aura ices over.

“I’d ask if you have anything to do with the mess back there.” The young brunet jabs his thumb behind himself, vaguely in the direction of the street –and her latest job. “Six men found gutted in a warehouse, with their intestines splayed everywhere and their fingernails ripped off.”

“I don’t see how it’s any business of yours if it was.” Shion replies smoothly. “Young man.”

The boy sags with a pitiful whine as he reverts to his more playful persona, like she’s insulted him.

“It’s Dazai. Dazai Osamu.”

Ah.

Shion’s heard of this boy –indeed, there’s few in the underworld of Japan that haven’t. When you talked mafia, you mentioned the Port Mafia of Yokohama, and in the same breath you spoke of their Demon Prodigy, Dazai Osamu, a boy who while only fifteen years old was already marking his mark on the most brutal of port cities.

This could be…troublesome.

“Then you should know, Dazai-kun, that I merely came into town to discipline some wayward members of my family.” Shion says, rolling her umbrella over her shoulder again. “I wouldn’t trouble yourself over it. After all-”

She reaches out and pats his cheek, avoiding the one with gauze taped over it.

“-boys like you need your beauty sleep, otherwise you won’t grow up big and strong.”

Dazai Osamu blinks at her for a few seconds –if he wasn’t so good at keeping up his mask, Shion would say that he looked stunned. This is clearly not a reaction he’s used to, and it takes him a moment to mentally reconnect. The mask slips back onto his face, though, as he gives a small grin.

“You know, this isn’t the response I usually get.” he mumbles against her wrist, and Shion grins slyly beneath her scarf.

“I’m sure.” she croons, making the effort to sound as sickeningly patronizing as possible, and Dazai grumbles a little, raising his uninjured hand to swat her arm away. She understands why she should probably be quaking in fear right now –an injured teenager is far different than Dazai Osamu in any condition– but Shion simply doesn’t have the capacity to quake anymore. If she dies, she dies, and if she lives, she lives.

“So, you’re-”

“I’m a Sonozaki. I’m from Hinamizawa.” Shion sighs out, eager to get that usual song and dance over –she’s fairly sure that this boy has already deduced exactly who and what she is, and it isn’t like Hinamizawa hasn’t become a household name after all the…incidents. It isn’t even her family, half the time, it’s just people with roots in the old village just…going postal, slaughtering themselves or their families or innocent bystanders, like they’ve been possessed by the curse one by one. To be someone with even the faintest family ties to Hinamizawa is to be demonized, almost literally, even after all these years.

The glint in Dazai’s eye brightens.

“That village that’s haunted by ghosts?” he asks, glowing like a regular boy who’s just been offered all his wildest dreams at once. “I’ve always wanted to go there! It’s a popular suicide destination, isn’t it? Just imagine, drifting off into the afterlife accompanied by spirits!”

Shion cocked an eyebrow at him.

“That’s my village you’re talking about, Dazai-kun.” she huffs. “And that might be less peaceful than you imagine.”

The young man blinks at her, narrowing his eyes. Shion feels the corner of her mouth curl, the urge to be mischievous rising within her.

“Haven’t you heard?” she teased. “Hinamizawa has one foot in the land of the dead –it’s filled with the spirits of those that have died there. Spirits that have never gone to the afterlife. Why, if you die there, who knows might happen.”

Dazai’s cheeks puff out in an incongruously endearing pout.

“There’s no reason to spoil my dreams.” he whines. “You’re mean, Sonozaki-san.”

“I’ve been to that village recently enough to know that it’s a thoroughly unpleasant spot.” Shion says, and the young man tilts his head. His cheerful demeanor keeps almost making Shion think that he was less dangerous than rumors painted him, but whenever that thought truly rose, he changed again, becoming like this, his brown eyes turning dark as the bitterest coffee as his intelligence rose, quick and sharp like a poison stinger.

“I thought you said it was your home.”

“It’s a home I lost everyone in.” Shion retorts, her fingers clenching a little on the handle of her umbrella. “I lost everyone when the gas erupted, and I lost Onee again when I went back and-”

She bites her lip, quickly turning away.

“My apologies, Dazai-kun.” Shion says, channeling all her grief into perfect, icily calm elocution. “I showed you an ugly side of myself, just now. Since we don’t really have much to say to each other, I’ll be taking my leave. The internal politics of the Sonozaki family are of no concern to the Port Mafia, after all.”

She made as if to step up the stairs again, but Dazai suddenly grabbed her arm. His fingers are long and thin, his hand cold as ice as it curls around her wrist. Unbidden, the thought again entered her mind –here is a demon– and Shion brushes it aside in favor of turning slightly with a sharp frown.

“What?”

"If you've come from the place that has a foot in the afterlife –do you still think that there's a sharp line between life and death?" Dazai asks, his eye burning into hers –deep and dark again, but with a hidden flame beneath, making his brown eye shine almost crimson.

“…I think it’s not nearly as sharp as we’re led to believe.” Shion says, tugging her arm away from him. Dazai lets go willingly, but she doesn’t make as if to turn away again. “Why do you want to die?”

“That’s my business.” Dazai replies, still holding her gaze with his own. “Why do you want to live?”

“Onee’s spirit told me that I should live my life down to its very last squeeze of toothpaste.” she answers. “So that’s what I’m doing.”

“But you don’t want to?” Dazai asks, something hungry shining in his uncovered eye.

“I don’t want to.” Shion replies calmly. “No more than you do, I suppose.”

Her head tilts into something approaching her coquettish pose from before, as something that’s not quite a smile crawls across her face.

“Funny, isn’t it, how the mafia catches all us lost souls who don’t know the meaning between life and death?” Shion asks, her teal eyes glinting with something just as dark and sad as his. “What are we going to do when there’s no more jobs they have to give to us?”

“Die, probably.” Dazai answers. “Would you consider doing me the honor of a double-suicide someday, Sonozaki-san?”

“I’m afraid I simply cannot abide the shamelessness of committing a double-suicide with someone more than twenty years younger than myself.” Shion tells him kindly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiles. “Perhaps you can send some flowers to my funeral instead, if you don’t die first. An executive in the Port Mafia has a bit of a longer lifespan than little old me, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe.” the young man says, and there’s no mistaking the way the flicker dulls in his eyes, even as a small, almost genuine smile curves his lips. “I suppose we’ll meet again on the other side of the river then, Sonozaki-san.”

“Perhaps we will, Dazai-kun.”

They stand together in the falling rain for a moment, caught in cold silence as the train roared by overhead, shining light through the gloom and making the tracks rattle as though caught in thunder.

AN: The Bungou Stray Dogs brainrot is unparalleled.

Anyways, Dazai was asking if Shion was the slit-mouth woman of Japanese urban legend: she is allegedly a beautiful female ghost with long, straight black hair, who covers the lower half of her face with a mask or scarf and carries around a pair of medical scissors (or some other sharp implement). She asks people if she’s pretty, and if they say yes, she’ll pull off her mask/scarf to reveal that the corners of her mouth have been slit Joker-style from ear to ear and repeat her question: if you say no at any point, she’ll kill you with her scissors. If you still say she’s pretty after she reveals her slit mouth, she’ll just use the scissors to mutilate you to match her own appearance. Allegedly, you can avoid death/disfigurement by describing her as average or throwing hard candies at her and running.

[elysicndrcvm]

━♡ guess the 23 YEAR OLD FEBRUARY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because CHU EUNHA is just as BEDAZZLING as the month of FEBRUARY. wait, why do they remind me of JACOB BAE? beyond that, they seemed JOYOUS and SAVVY upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of DELICATE and QUIXOTIC though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX 1 / APARTMENT 0215 / FLOOR 3 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as a PATISSERIE OWNER/NUTRITIONAL SCIENCE STUDENT. ( ez, 21, she/they, gmt. )

     well hey there !! im ez but you fellow dallyeogers can call me ezzy, i have been in dallyeog before so some may remember me as having someone v different to my new bb i bring u now, i joined before with miss tam carmen !! anygays i return with this lil angel who i am all ‘ i say that’s my baby and i’m proud ’ over already even tho i literally came up with him like two days ago. you can find his pinboard here ( which btw i fuckeN love like he’s so aesthetic to me u go king ) and i made him a lil playlist which u can vibe to here. you can learn more about him under the cut but he’s a super soft-hearted gentle dove of a muse and quite...simple for me ?? sdhdh that’s not the right wording but U GET IT djjflg he isn’t super full of angst or trauma he’s just kinda viBIN livin his best life so that’s fun !! but ye without further ado: 

so as u kno from his app he owns a patisserie, it’s his lil babey and he is very dedicated to his craft and makin sure all his ideas for the place and the baked goods he sells are like rlly quirky and avant-garde. like he is so passionate about it u dont even KNOW, he tries to make sure most of the stuff on his menu is something like fun and new u wouldn’t get at just any old patisserie or cafe and that it’s super varied and also kinda aesthetic af? the place is very like trendy. it’s called patisserie d’elysian cause ya know he’s an extra biTCHH and proud.

he has three pupperino’s. all as adorable as each other, snickerdoodle is his golden lab and often ppl shorten it down to snickers, butterscotch is his dapple daschund pup, shortens the name to scotchie often. toulouse is his fancy toy poodle boi, shortens the name down as toto. if u are on the shortened name basis with his pups then u can consider urself one of his close pals. 

he’s actually adopted by his aunt but she raised him like she was his mother so that is what he considers her, she’s on his mother’s side but they are half-siblings. in terms of first name reasoning as well she just liked eunha as a name and didn’t even think about how it is traditionally for a female, she liked that it meant gift from heaven so it stuck. his father is still around, he’s just quite elderly so it felt like a better living situation for him to be raised primarily by his auntie. unfortunately his mother has passed on but no tragic story, she just went peacefully in old age. 

he dyes his hair quite often, it’s currently like a really pastel blue with black streaks consistently throughout like lil ones so it looks super cool. but he’s also had it be a more electric blue, lilac, and a duck egg kinda faded silvery blue. it’s naturally dark brunette. has brown eyes kind of a hazel hue. 

his style is kinda androgynous ig?? he just lives for soft retro fashion, lots of color in his wardrobe but also lots of tapered short and t-shirt fits frequented, sweater vests, rolled up jeans, high skater boi socks, soft jumpers with shirts, shirts in bright colours or satiny texture worn over plain white t-shirts, cardigans, pastel denim jackets, jeans with printed patterns on like clouds, flowers etc, favors yellow and blues. sometimes does eye makeup, occasionally wears heels bc he’s a baddie or super heeled boots/chunky shoes. 

obsessed with music, can play violin and guitar. he’s a big mitski and rina sawayama fanatic, likes anything that sounds peaceful or calming or has like a good fun vibe to it. also likes the trademark gay icons like carly rae jepsen, lorde, etc. he’s not ashamed. obsessed with mamma mia movies. but also likes rap which is rlly funny cause its like the bad bitch female rappers only and like he’ll listen to it while arranging his sock drawer or making his bed or something ajdjdj it’s like hype anthems for being a baddie and a hoe and he’s just doing his night sleepy routine adkfkf. 

showers, blankets, music, baked goods especially bagels are his happy places. 

very much a sensitive lil romanticist, falls in ‘love’ like five times a day, he just likes to giggle and smile around pretty people and admire the artwork hnghdh, he’s like yeARNS though ya know?? like he’s all i will flirt by making prolonged eye contact, i made you a playlist, this song makes me think of you etc. it’s either memes as flirting with him or elaborate love letters u never know what ur gonna get akdkd. 

awful sense of humour, loves his friends more than anything on earth except his pups, would fully live in a huge house of just like his pups and all his closest buds for all eternity. likes fruits way too much, enjoys puns about fruits way too much. milkshakes, sushi, orange hues and bus rides are some of his absolute favorite simple pleasures of life. clouds, flowers, salt lamps, the sunrise over the sea, skateboarding, fresh soda, teddy bears, busy street markets, parasols, fish tanks with exotic fish, sorbet, bike riding, polaroids, record players, rain at night against floor to ceiling windows with a fresh steaming pot of tea on the desk beside it and warm fresh sheets from the laundry on his bed, ponds, skateboarding. all little joys in life that give him like the biggest pleasure dopamine hit in the world. 

his cousin actually owns a florists so he has flowers just littering his apartment like a lot and it just looks like he has ten million suitors from the late eighteenth century attempting to court him but no all these flowers are from him to him or worse from his aunt djfjg she sends him some for valentines every valentines, pls help him, pls send him flowers. 

studies nutritional science and he fucken hates it. do not ask him shit cause he doesn’t KNOW OKAY? he doesn’t understand it either. he took it because he needed something to go alongside the passion for baking that was a real ‘qualification’/job so that is the only reason he’s doing it. no point doing a baking degree after all when he’s already a baker with a business, he’s super young still he gotta keep his prospects open. so YAH. he’d rather be doing culinary arts but eh. nutritional science sounded better and more logic based. the real miracle is he still gets top grades all the time even tho he spends his life like wtf am i even doing is this even legit akdkdk. school is the worst thing in the world for him watch his mood instantly deflate the second its brought up. 

despite being a quixotic, he’s a lil afraid of intimacy. like oh god does he love it, those small touches and acts of affection u kno? the subtle things that normally go unnoticed, eye contact, brushing of hands, linking of little fingers, rubbing a thumb, kissing eyelids or foreheads or palms or shoulders in little gentle pecks, back massages and rubs or finger tracing patterns absent-minded, shoulder massages, laying your head on someone’s shoulder or on their lap, knocking knees together, exchanging a small glance only the two of you get before bursting into laughter, smiling into kisses, napping together, having blankets placed over you warm and fresh, or towels put ready like it, someone making you something they know you like a lot. that’s his sHIT. but like he’s terrified still, someone skimming their fingers on his skin makes his breath hitch like he’s a scandalized and alarmingly aroused victorian woman sjdjd. he’s literally still a virgin, he hasn’t even had his first kiss okay my baby is delicate be gentle with him akdkd but he still LIKES PASSION AIGHT kfkf. 

real soft spoken, honey tinted voice like i shit u not this boy talks like he’s an angel sent from heavens above to guide you to the paradisaical garden of eden or some shit akdkd. ur gonna fall in love with eunha’s voice before u even fall in love with any other part of him like his adorable beaming smile or stunning eyes akdkf. 

has dance parties around his room when getting ready in the morning, listens to bella’s lullaby unironically yes from twilight yes u heard right, bit of a himbo streak sometimes in his obliviousness djfjf. quite silently subtly funny actually much like jacob himself. 

he is gay, afraid of driving, cannot do math, blanks out often and he is valid for all of those things. has a collection of cartoon and disney animal movie dvds. has a dream notebook. always has blue painted nails in some kinda shade. 

does not enjoy turning in assignments bc he is scared he’ll fail, avoids looking at his grades for weeks after they’re released and hates knowing that they’re out. 

cannot dance, dances often. collects vintage stuff esp clothes and mostly sweaters. likes midnight trips to corner stores and fields where he can just lay and look at the stars. makes friends rlly easily but has super bad performance anxiety. cannot ever have a messy room like even the tiniest bit messy. even like clothes being stacked on a chair instead of away. 

bakes peanut butter, banana and choc chip muffins (they r called monkey bites normally) whenever he’s super stressed. if u want to cheer him up when he’s anxious or stressed then u should give him french lavender honey, chia seeds and caramelized pear on toast/bagel. it is his comfort food. he fancii when he needs a pick me up. treat urself and all that.