#art stuff starry sky

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bath and Body Works Art Stuff Starry Sky Roll on Lip Luster

Holiday 1999-2000

Found on worthpoint.com

I hope I can find this for sale one day.

[aeliem]

entry for @moccasins's dtiys

thank you for giving me an excuse to draw a really funky night sky

timelapse under the cut

[z3rfall]

I lose myself in the night sky until the limits of my body dissolve into stardust

(I was so cold while making this. Also I was using a tractor as a tripod because country boys make do)

[blansteif]

staarrya paartyy

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

[approximateknowledge]

so over the past couple months ive been solidly finding more and more evidence that kirito is in fact a trans girl, but yesterday i learned i was limiting myself in my search for evidence

because so far ive been looking at the light novels, the anime, and the mainline pc games

but not *the fucking mobile games*

which um... *what the fuck?!*

stuff like this:

or the fact these are all just official art for a real game from 2016

like *what*

^pet the girlthing

like im sorry there's a limit to how blatant you can go before it's just canon

[kindred-spirit-93]

ICONIC >:D

Only proud of Nico 😞

[minhosimthings]

From Eden || HJY

Synopsis: You ask your favourite angel, Hyunjin about love. And he has a lot to say on a chilly night.

Pairings: Angel!Hyunjin × demon!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, biblical themes, Heaven and Hell, ik angels don't technically have genders but I made reader a bit feminine, teensy bit of angst, mention of Han because I love him, VERY poetic, me yapping about love

A/N: whatsup my popsicles your girl's back from her hibernation with Hyunjin because God damn this man has been bias wrecking me so much. Also this is based on Good Omens, so I hope anyone who watched the show notices the details I put in. As always, enjoy!

Song Recs: From Eden by Hozier, My love Mine all Mine by Mitski

I am yours,

The way the sea belongs to the moon,

And the way the moon belongs to the sky.

The cicadas were chirping. It was a beautiful, wintry night.

An angel and a demon lay on a tiny mound in a park.

“Do you ever think about going back up there?”

Your question stuck to Hyunjin’s mind like pollen to a bee. His magnificently outstretched left wing was practically numb now, from bearing your weight on it for so long. But Hyunjin didn't complain.

 After all, he wouldn't have let you lay on wet grass on a frosty November night if his life depended on it; even if he knew that you—as a demon—couldn’t technically feel anything. But as much as you’d tried to convince him of that factual piece of information, he’d rather throw his halo into a river than believe that you had no emotion hiding in you. Hyunjin was a stubborn angel.

Your stubborn angel.

“Not really.” Hyunjin said in a tone almost as soft as his feathers, “Why do you ask?” He pressed a light kiss to the side of your forehead before you could answer, as if wanting to distract you from the topic at hand. You’d understand why. He disliked the idea of talking about it.

“Just….” You trailed off with your sentence, not knowing what reason to give him. Why did you ask him that? 

Hyunjin hummed softly, shifting his legs so that yours could be more comfy. You didn't have the heart to tell him you were just fine in your previous position. In fact you didn't have a heart at all!

That was the common human perception of demons, Hell, Lucifer and all that jazz. But you knew that your boss, Lucifer, was only scary when his new assistant didn't get some paperwork done for souls to enter that paradise that was Hell. 

“Do you remember the first time we met on Earth?” Hyunjin suddenly asked you, his eyes still gazing up at the painting of the starry sky hanging above you.

“Of course I do.” You laughed gingerly. You vividly remembered the first time you had met Hyunjin.

Five Years Ago

 Contrary to popular belief, demons or—as you liked to call yourself—fallen angels, actually didn't like wrecking stuff and destroying everything in their path. You just had to trip people on the sidewalk every now and then and occasionally make a deal with a naive human who stumbles across a cross-road. Most of the time, you were stuck doing paperwork.

So there you were, on a fine November’s evening, strutting down a nice little street in your very cliche all-black outfit, when you abruptly stopped in your tracks in front of an art supply store. It wasn't the Studio Ghibli-esqueness of the shop that made you stop or the fact that the most beautiful paintings of flowers lined the big windows. 

It was the familiar celestial energy that was practically leaking out from the shop.

The energy only got ‘louder’ as you entered the shop, having lost the battle to your curiosity. You knew this feeling well enough to figure out that there was an angel or perhaps even God themselves hiding in this store. Turning into a corner, which was lined with shelves of paints of all sorts, you stopped in your tracks, when you lay eyes on the only other living being in the shop.

It was a tall, long-haired man, wearing a black worker’s apron over a white shirt and beige pants and restocking some empty shelves. Perhaps the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. But you knew better than to strike up a conversation with him.

He was no ordinary man, from the looks of the golden halo floating above him, something only you could see very faintly. 

Angels and Demons who get stationed on Earth are warned very strictly not to interact with each other. Not even so much as a glance if they accidentally reach for the last cupcake at a bakery. Hell and Heaven's monitoring systems were the best in the universe. But perhaps they were lying about that.

Because no sudden flash of death-inducing lightning struck you or the angel when he turned his eyes to you in the store and said with a sweet smile, “I can see you staring, you know.”

To say it in simple words, you were practically awestruck when you saw him face-front. It was a face which was….eerily familiar. Beautifully familiar. Like a face from a memory you had chosen to rewrite. His beautiful hair fell perfectly onto his face, framing it in such a way that all his features stood out. With eyes that stood proud yet gentle, like a stream by a forest, and lips that looked as if they could heal anything with a single kiss, one could say that he looked angelic.

“What are you looking to buy today?” He asked you as if you two were nothing more than mere humans, “The oil paints perhaps?”

“No…” You said with uncertainty, “I’m sorry I barged in, I just…” You paused, studying his features even more, why was he so familiar? “I thought I saw someone I knew.”

He smiled again, his eyes forming half-moons at you. “Don’t worry, the shop has a spell around it.” Then as if to certify his point, he said in a childish whisper, “Neither Hell nor Heaven will find us here.”

“Oh.” You said simply, not knowing what else to say. You slipped your hands into the pockets of your coat and considered him for a while. Then you slowly walked towards him, feeling warmer and warmer as you did. 

“Y/N.” You extended your hand, “Former angel of creation, collector of souls and occasional deal maker.” This was perhaps the boldest act you’d ever performed ever since you fell into Hell, “Oh and I like plants.”

“Hyunjin.” He took your hand in his and shook it formally, “I own this shop.” His gaze was locked on yours, never once wavering, “I’m an angel of Heaven.” He finished the sentence with such gusto that you were sure wind was blowing inside the store.

“Yeah I got that figured.” You said curtly, “I just wanted to ask—” You took a deep breath before speaking, “Have we ever…met before? I mean you just seem so familiar for some reason.” You let out a forced laugh, “I’m sorry if we haven't. It's just that I don't remember anything that happened before—” You stopped briefly, you hadn't talked about it much, “before my fall.” 

You noticed the way Hyunjin’s face dropped for only a second or two before he went back to his calm gaze. “No worries.” He said cheerily, “I don’t have a really good memory either so we can just start over from now.” 

As an angel of Heaven, a loyal servant of God and Humanity, Hyunjin hated lying. His honesty proved to be as useful as it was dangerous. For example, Hyunjin had gained one of his best friends, Jisung, when he kindly albeit bluntly stated that beige would be a horrible colour for Jisung to paint on a rock album’s cover. After a few hours of debating, in which many noise complaints were involved, Hyunjin had gained a human friend for the first time. He knew Jisung wouldn't live for as long as he would, but it didn't matter. Hyunjin loved the company.

Of the three lies he had spelled in his entire life, this was one of them. You were the second angel he had lied to. Well, fallen angel.

He, in fact, had a terrific memory. And he distinctly remembered the time he first set his eyes on you 

After a few days of the Universe’s creation, he had been ordered by Gabriel to bring you forth. They alleged that you had been far too creative in your matters of creation–and too curious as well. God didn't create curiosity for the angels.

After a few hours of drifting through the vast caves of the newborn Universe, Hyunjin spotted an angel of high ranking standing stagnant before what appeared to be a large canvas of infinite, colourful, space. 

Your wings were spread high and mighty, beautiful feathers of gold and silver silhouetting an excited figure. You were rushing your fingers about in orchestral movements. Every flick of your finger brought forth a string of rainbow colours that burst forth into one or the other star in front of you.

Angels were not meant to have feelings. It was something that only the lowest of 

organisms—humans—had. Atleast, that was what Hyunjin was taught.

But something inside him stirred when he set his eyes on you.

(Was it hatred? You’d broken the Rule of Heaven with your curiosity. Hyunjin loved rules.)

 Your sparkling eyes, filled with far more stars than any galaxy that surrounded him, captivated him. You looked like one of those things that the humans did, what was it called? Perhaps it was called a painting, but Hyunjin's memory disappointed him for the first time. He took a deep breath and flew towards you, his mind frantically racing as to how he’d tell you that you had apparently failed God.

“Ahem.” He had said, trying not to seem too overenthusiastic, “Excuse me?” 

Hyunjin couldn't find a word to describe your appearance when you turned towards him. He described the moment to you eons later—in a heated argument of betrayal and trust that shook the very Earth itself—as the most beautiful thing he had seen since his birth.

“Oh hello there!” You had responded, not waiting for the angel’s response as you beckoned him to come and stand by your side, “Come look! This is always my favourite part.”

‘Favourite part’ evidently meant the stream of colours that had just erupted in front of you both, some rushing off rapidly in different directions, while some lay still joining together to form a nebula. Hyunjin had seen the creation of nebulae before, but this one was exceptionally magnificent to look at.

“That's…amazing.” Hyunjin breathed out, his eyes widening by the minute as he stared at the dance performance in front of him. You stood with a smug smile on your face.

“I’m quite proud of it actually.” You grinned at him, “I love making nebulae the most. Don't get me wrong though, I still like galaxies!” You threw him a wink, to which he sheepishly smiled

“I don’t see the point in nebulae much though.” He mumbled, trying to make conversation, “I mean, a poor star has to die in order to make such a divine formation.” He motioned towards the theatre of colours in front of you, “It seems odd doesn't it? For death to be so beautiful a thing?”

“I dont think it's odd.” You said, tilting your head, your gaze fixed on his, “I think it's a lovely thing. That the star, which was so beautiful in its first life—” You turned your head back towards the nebula and smiled wide, “—is allowed to be so beautiful in its second one as well.” You grinned with all your teeth this time, “Makes me wonder about all those humans down there on Earth. I think they’re rather lucky to have a life which is short, don't you think? They get to appreciate love better.”

“Appreciate it?” Hyunjin asked, feeling a creeping emotion cling to his wings. Did curiosity always feel this amazing?

“Of course! Loving is practically what anyone would—and should—live for!” You said in the same cheery tone, “Love wasn't made to be locked up in some cage and fed a beggar’s meal all day like Heaven thinks! Absolutely not!” Your eyes shone with determination, “Love was created to be talked about. Asked about. It was made to be yearned for, cried after and laughed about. Love, I think, took God the longest time to make. It would be hard, wouldn't it?” Your eyes softened, “To make something that is to be given so tenderly and felt so violently.” 

Hyunjin drew in a sharp breath at your words. He didn't comprehend the concept of love that well, having only been taught that it is a dangerous thing. Now he mused on what danger might feel like.

“Personally I think we angels should be allowed to live a mortal life at least once in this infinitely dreary life-span of ours. I do love the idea of love so much and maybe we’ll learn to appreciate warmth once in a while. Heaven does get so cold.” You laughed.

“So it’d be like some sort of mission?” Hyunjin asked, cocking his head to the side. You stared off into the distance for a while before answering, your eyes wider than ever before.

“Oh I have such a brilliant idea!” You said, radiant joy lacing every word you said, “Why haven't I ever thought about it ever before?”  You noticed the dark-haired angel staring at you in confusion before you started to explain, “Why don’t we suggest to Gabriel and everyone else to have a few angels be posted down on Earth?” You looked around you frantically, before your far-seeing eyes landed on a tiny blue dot floating about its own space, “So we can keep an even better check on them.” You smiled widely, before looking at Hyunjin and making an excited sound, “I should go right now if I want to catch Gabriel at a good time.”

Your wings seemed to have understood your excitement, as they fluttered rapidly, at the prospect of going down to the planet you and a few others had designed so carefully. A planet that was neither too hot nor too cold. A planet filled with your favourite creations of God. A planet that was just right. 

“Oh I never asked.” You snapped your gaze to him, “What is your name?”

Right. He never told you his name. What an idiot you are Hyunjin, he scolded himself, getting distracted by pretty angels.

“Hyunjin.” He said, bowing his head, “My name is Hyunjin.” 

“I’m Y/N.” You said, bowing your head back, your lucent halo shining so brightly in Hyujin’s face. He already knew your name. He had to bring you to Gabriel in chains.

“Well I’m off to Gabriel’s.” You said, “Thanks for the idea, Hyunjin!” 

Hyunjin never thought his name could sound so harmonious. So melodic, full of stories. A captivating name.

He relished that moment endlessly, all the while trying to suppress the carnal hunger within him that wanted to speak to you again. To explain all his thoughts and ask every question residing in his non-existent heart. He had that feeling that you’d know the answer to each of them. But he wouldn't have the opportunity to do that for a very long time.

A couple thousand years to be precise. 

In a paint store. 

Out in the middle of nowhere and yet in the middle of everything. 

Time always seemed faster to you after you became a demon. The same old routine—though it tired you out—seemed to continuously keep you on your toes. You couldn't remember the last time you looked up at the stars. For some reason unknown to you, you had always felt a special sort of connection to them, as if they were your own creation. You could always retrace your footsteps at night, feeling the warm splutters of light being shaped like soft clay in your hands. And then you’d forget it all by the morning.

It was only a dream, you’d surmise, demons don’t get dreams though.

But the dream you had that day was one you’d never dare to forget. 

The dream in which you stumbled upon a faintly familiar (absolutely gorgeous) angel, brought a few weird looking paints called gouache, realised you knew nothing about painting, and took up the angel’s offer to teach you.

The dream in which your colorless penthouse apartment held a little more colour when Hyunjin stepped into it, with a canvas and an easel and another home-stitched apron made just for you. A white one with tiny black cats on it. He always despised the fact that angels couldn't also turn into any animal they wanted. He wanted to be a snow-coat ferret. 

And the dream in which a sin was committed, a sin greater than when Eve sunk her teeth into God’s most precious jewel.

It didn't matter though. You weren't struck by Heaven’s lightning.

Just sweetly kissed on your forehead by Hyunjin as you both lay in bed, silently wrapped in each other’s arms tightly, afraid the other would float away if you let go.

“I think I want to love you.” Hyunjin said, "I think I really want to love you."

Love was for humans, not angels and demons.

"I think I do too." You said, breathing in his scent. It was the same old crisp smell of paint and a bit of something else. Rain maybe? Or was it pine? There were some traces of old paper as well but you thought—

"I love you, Y/N." Hyunjin exhaled shakily, "I love you so much." 

Love was not meant for demons.

"I love you so much too, Hyunjin."

Present

"How could I ever forget the time we met?" You chuckled, cuddling closer to Hyunjin. His warmth made you want to sleep so bad, but you persisted. Anything to complete a conversation with your favourite angel.

"I think that was the day I made up my mind to never leave Earth." Hyunjin said slowly, tentatively almost, “That was the day I found something—” He smiled, and closed his eyes, taking a breath in before continuing, “—that made me want to love again.”

“It's funny.” You chuckled, admiring a distant red star in the sky, “People would usually end that sentence with ‘live again’.” You sighed, the red star glistened again, “But we’re not people are we?” You nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.

Hyunjin’s arm beneath your neck slightly shifted, causing you to press your nose into his chest instead. Angels smell like rain, you thought. His breathing slowed down and you could hear the cogs in his brain turning. My angel smells like paint.

“Would you like to be human?” Hyunjin asked hesitantly. The constellation of Cassiopeia was particularly bright tonight, with her five stars reminding everyone of the downfall due to vanity. You shifted again, not saying anything. The same silence remained hanging in the air for a few minutes, with the two of you just taking in each other’s mellowness. And then you spoke.

“What do you think about love, Hyunjin?” You asked him, for perhaps the fifteenth time in five years. Every time he had been confronted with that question, he’d either never answer it or find a way to flirt with you. But he couldn't escape now, you thought. He was trapped in between your arms and your attack of a thousand tickling kisses was notorious for its ability to—

“Love…..” He started, “is practically what anyone would—and should—live for.” You tilted your head curiously up at him and he began to narrate.

“Somebody once told me that, you know?” He laughed, “Back in heaven. She loved the idea of love so much, she gave me an entire speech about it.” He cleared his throat dramatically.

“Love wasn't made to be locked up in some cage or thrown onto the streets.” His eyes seemed to gleam, “Love was created to be talked about. Asked about. It was made to be yearned for, cried after and laughed about. Love  took God the longest time to make.” It would be hard, wouldn't it?” His eyes softened down at you, as he pressed the umpteenth kiss of the night to your skin, “To make something that is to be given so tenderly and felt so violently.” 

 Those words…..why were they so familiar?

“But I think I disagree.” Hyunjin said again, saving you from the task of replying, “As much as I liked that idea back then, I think I find it a bit incorrect now that I know more about love.”

“It's not like you to disagree on most things.” You smiled to yourself. Though Hyunjin did like giving his own opinions very honestly, he didn't like to disagree or argue over other people’s choices. Unless it was his mortal friend Jisung of course. Hyunjin chuckled and raised his hand up to touch the sky. You followed his outstretched finger to where it was pointing and your gaze stopped on something. 

A nebula.

Though you were a demon, you were still technically a celestial being. So your vision stretched about as far as the Aries constellation’s multitude of galaxies. And maybe even farther. You didn't know though. You were far too lazy to waste your energy on peering at the sky. 

“You know that angel who told me about love?” Hyunjin dropped his hand back down onto the soft grass, “She was creating a nebula when she said that.” 

Hyunjin shifted to lay on his side, his wing beneath you stretching to adjust to the new position. He fluttered his eyes from your eyes to your lips, admiring all of your features in the process. You felt warmth cloud your cheeks and ears. He always did that to fluster you, and it was a battle you could never win. 

Reaching out a hand, he cupped your cheek in his palm. You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, relishing the moment like a touch starved human.

If this was what being human felt like, then you wanted to be human. 

“I think love is like a nebula.” Hyunjin said in a crooning voice, “Nebulas are created by the death of a star right?” He started to explain, amused at your confused expression, “When the star dies, those wisps of starstuff come together again to form something so beautiful, something which can support another galaxy, something that is as pretty as that late star.” He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, you could clearly see the mole beneath his eye, “That's what love is, I think.” 

You shifted in your place onto your side, and took him in—his words and his beauty. By God were both of them absolutely gorgeous. 

“Love is eternal.” Hyunjin’s voice was an early morning mist, “Love is something that can never truly die out, no matter what. It's those little things that we do without realizing it was the habit of someone in our past. It's the fact that we are all just made up of starstuff and little bits of someone else’s soul. In a way we are also nebulas, don't you think?” He brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, his hands were still warm in the cold night’s air, “I think love is a mystery which shouldn't be solved. Just embraced.” You blinked, feeling the mellowness of him and for a moment, you thought it was a dream.“I don't think love should be felt violently. Just….warmly.”

His solid form pressed into you, the familiar rise and fall of his breath. Your fingers resting gently on his chest, and the sense of closeness sent a rush of feelings that almost hurt. Your mind spun as you tried to recall your memories as an angel. Were you the one who had told him about love?

Hyunjin looked at you, at the faint crease between your brows as if he were afraid to lose you again. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he allowed himself to think for a moment—just a moment—that an angel and a demon could defy the rules set by the one who created them. If God didn’t want love to exist between Hell and Heaven’s soldiers, then damn Them, Hyunjin thought.

“If love is a nebula…” You softly hummed, eyes flickering to his lips every now and then, “...that means it's always changing right?” Hyunjin nodded, taking note of the teasing expression on your face and taking his eyes down to the grass instead, “Then I think I want love to be us.”

In that second heartbeat of silence, Hyunjin looked up, his eyes blazing with passion, and before either of you could think, you pulled him by the neckline of his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his with a desperate intensity that left no room for doubt.   

Your breaths mingled, Hyunjin could see the flicker of longing in your gaze, the vulnerability you’d always tried to hide. With a hum, he closed the distance between your bodies, capturing your lips again with a tenderness that held nothing but love, both of you melting into the intensity of the moment. 

“Love is us.” You said, after pulling away from the brief moment of passion, “I think love is nothing but us.”

“An angel and a demon?” Hyunjin asked, his lips faintly pinkish and his cheeks even more so.

You shook your head, “A star and another star.”

Hyunjin laughed heartily and nodded, “A star and another star it is then.” He pressed his lips to your forehead, “Love is us.”

The cicadas were chirping. It was a beautiful, wintry night.

Two stars lay on a tiny mound in a park.

And even if the jealous stars

Break and shatter upon the milky way,

I will still see Heaven in your eyes.

[portals-and-spirits]

(Felicity: so this is really just the starter and I’ll reply from the Arson Murder Jaywalking Trio blog after)

Colin (and Argyros if she’s here) exit the portal through a dark wooden door with a simple brass knob into an odd-looking room. It’s square with each wall being about 15 feet long, but the most noticeable thing is that brass lines inlaid into the floor, corners, and ceiling split the room into four triangle-based quarters, with the one they’re currently standing in having a simple wooden floor, clean white wall, abstract wall art, fuzzy pastel green welcome mat, and wire coatrack, making it reminiscent of a cozy modern home. The quarter to their left has a much more antique vibe to it, the floor being wood in a different shade, and more worn looking, the patterned wallpaper being a faded magenta that blurred into the varied yet never too bright colors of the many, many photos pinned onto the wall around the door. There are pictures of beautiful scenes, snow fields, sunsets, forests, but there are no notable beings in them, no hints to the inhabitants of this strange little corner of the multiverse or the individual who must’ve taken them. Carved into the door on this wall are the words “If you’re seeing this, it means I’m home, feel free to come in if you can.” in a rough, simplistic writing, with a rolled-up scroll and pen pinned on top- if the scroll was unrolled, it would cover the writing. A creative way for visitors to leave messages to whoever lived here. The quarter directly across had a stone brick construction, with an archway full of blue light acting as the portal and a hanging tapestry of a clear sky and bright sun for a door. On the walls to its sides were beadwork hangings, depicting a starry night sky with a crescent moon and snowy owl flying about, and what appeared to be a mammoth made of ice playing about in the snow. Upon closer inspection, the snowy owl seemed to be made of snow as well. Next to the door is a tall flowerpot overflowing with crawling pink-flowered vines that have spread onto the floor and walls, and a small dresser with a pair of snow boots on top. The boots don’t look quite big enough for an adult, instead made for maybe an older child in their early teens. The wooden rafters holding up the upper walls and ceiling were decorated with preserved flowers of every kind, giving the room a pleasant herbal aroma. The final quarter, the one to their right, had a traditional Japanese theme, with woven floor mats and paper wall panels painted with cranes in a marsh and a few scattered lines of calligraphy. In a cylindrical frame in the corner are rolls of painted paper that could likely be used to swap out the designs on the walls. In the other corner is a discreetly hidden set of light switches disguised as a candle holder- the candle it held was only a fraction of the height of the stand and the lower portion could open to reveal the controls. The portal door is a sliding door that could’ve easily been mistaken for a wall panel if it weren’t ever-so-slightly open, a crack of white mist pouring through. In the middle of the room, over the intersecting divider lines, is a small table resembling a tall stool, being 3 feet tall with a circular top a bit more than 1 foot in diameter. On it is a singular file folder, the papers inside peeking out. Do they go through any of the doors? Do they check the file folder? Do they mess with the light switches or any of the other stuff in here?

"How fascinating..." Colin tilts his head, looking around the room. This was definitely a new and unfamiliar place. He decides to check the file folder; it's best to know what he can about this place and who's here before he investigates them directly.

"Seems familiar!" Argyros grins, looking around. She thinks for a moment, before skipping over and knocking on the door with the carved message.

"Is it a good idea to immediately start bothering people?" Colin asks lightheartedly, an eyebrow raised as he glances at Argyros.

"It'll be fiiine!" Argyros looks at Colin over her shoulder, eyes closing for a few moments as she grins.

[lateatnewyork]

Listen- I had an idea. I was thinking about a Lucien Vanserra and the reader feeking the bond snap? But Lucien feeling like he's not worthy of her but she tells him how pretty his eyes are? Even with the scar? I was thinking of adding the prompt 32 angst and 12 fluff maybe.

Scars and All

Lucien x Archeron!reader, Helion x reader (father, daughter dynamic)

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Prompts: Fluff- “I wish you could see the way I see you,” Angst- “You… why did it have to be you?”

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister has always been ignored and rejected by everyone. When she finally finds her mate in the Day Court who thought her heart could’ve broken more at the rejection of someone who was made to love her?

a/n i legit could not find any good headers for this so i downloaded 6 billion of them from pinterest, my sister had made this dress for herself and i had direct access to it thats why the description is so long 😭 im trying a new thing with describing facial features and stuff like that more lmk if u like it or not. ✨ not edited ✨

There was a ball in Day Court, almost all high fae were invited, and as the sister in law to the High Lord of Night Court it was compulsory for all of us to be there.

The dress I'm wearing is a masterpiece of intricacy and elegance, designed to captivate and command attention. Crafted from the finest materials, it combines delicate silk and ethereal lace, creating a harmonious blend of softness and sensuality. The color chosen is a rich midnight blue, reminiscent of the starry night sky that blankets the Night Court.

The bodice of the dress is a work of art, adorned with intricate silver and sapphire beadwork that accentuates the curves of the wearer. It plunges low, revealing a hint of the wearer's décolletage, while thin, delicate straps grace the shoulders, adding a touch of allure. The back of the dress dips in a graceful V, teasing a glimpse of smooth, exposed skin.

From the waist, the dress cascades into a flowing skirt, made of layers of diaphanous silk that sways with every step. The fabric is sheer and airy, allowing a tantalizing view of the wearer's legs as she moves, creating an alluring dance between modesty and seduction. The hemline is asymmetrical, with delicate lace trim that adds a touch of whimsy and femininity.

As I move, the dress catches the light, shimmering and sparkling like a constellation in the moonlit sky. It exudes an air of confidence and sophistication, empowering the woman who wears it to embrace her inner strength and beauty.

The dress wasn't my first choice though. My first choice was an indigo dress with a sweetheart neckline, that showed just enough of my cleavage to not be named as slutty. It had a slit that showed my whole right leg, but Elain had liked that dress after she saw it in my wardrobe, so I gave it to her.

She always got what she wanted.

I wasn't a type of feminine beauty like my sisters. They all had graceful features and beautiful dainty blonde hair. Nesta and I were the most similar with our sharp features.

But that's where the similarities ended.

My hair was a lustrous cascade of ebony strands, shimmered like a moonless night sky, reflecting an ethereal sheen with every subtle movement. Its glossy surface captured the light, revealing depths of darkness that held an irresistible allure.

Once I had slipped my heels on, I headed down the stairs where everyone else was waiting for me. My lips curved into a sly smile when everyone's attention was on me, glancing over the room, my eyes stopped at Elain. Her dress (my dress) was falling at all the wrong places.

She wasn't as curvy as me, Nesta and Feyre. I don't get why she would want the dress, it's obviously not fitting her properly. Ignoring Elain's incessant huffing, I head to Nesta and Cassian.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, sister,” I compliment, giggling.

“I love this dress on you,” she gushes.

Nesta was my best friend, my confidant, the sister who cared for me.

“But I would’ve loved to have seen the other dress on you,” she continues. “You shouldn’t have given it to Elain,”.

“Oh it’s fine, look at the absolute beauty I have found instead,” I reassure.

“Elain are you sure you don’t want to change your dress,” Feyre asks.

Nesta and I snicker behind our hands, Elain turns around towards us and I watch in glee as her faces turns into a scowl.

“I’m fine can we leave already” she snaps.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Cassian winnows Nesta, Rhysand and Feyre, Azriel and Elain, while Mor winnows me.

Landing outside the day court palace, I mentally take in the beauty of the place. The sandy blocks making the palace and the beautiful candles hung at every corner. There truly is no darkness.

I look down at my dress, skepticism glazes over my face. I shouldn’t have worn such an eye catching dress.

How was I meant to know that there would be lights everywhere?

Cauldron fucking boil me.

After some mindless chatter with Feyre about how excited she is to show me her paintings. We’re escorted inside to see the High Lord of the Day Court lounging on his throne, looking like the childish playboy he is. Even though he was centuries old.

His beauty was otherworldly, the way his onyx locks cascaded down his back like they were paid to do so. Piercing amber orbs stared down at everyone. Clad in only a white fabric that was draped over him, he had an easy going presence to him. The sharp points of his golden crown glinting under the bright lights.

But the vision next to him put the Night Court stars to a shame. He was the sun personified. Tan skin, lighter than his father’s but darker than mine. Auburn red hair, similar to his father’s in length, rested along his back. A scar ran from just above his eyebrow to his jaw. His eyes met mine, maroon and golden. His features picked apart weren’t attractive but somehow together on him, he looked like a god.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes blurred in and out of focus. Once they went back to normal I saw a single golden thread tugging. My eyes followed the thread back to Lucien.

I ran outside. Mother’s tits, I found my mate.

I gave an experimental tug on the bond revelling in the feeling of being complete. Tugging on it again, I let him know I wanted to see him.

Sitting there on the roof, I waited for five minutes, then ten, soon twenty and as quickly as my hope had been born it had faded away. But still remnants of it remained, maybe he couldn’t get away so soon, after all he was the heir to the Day Court.

Holy shit, he was the heir to the Day Court, what if he wanted nothing to do with me?

My thoughts spiralled one after the other.

A throat cleared behind me. Turning around to look at Lucien, I beckon him over.

“I’m Y/N, I already know who you are so introductions won’t be necessary” My attempt at a joke fails.

Finally taking a closer look at his face, I take in the pained expression. “Are you all right?” concern laces my voice, I stand up and whisper, “Have you had enough to eat you look like you’re about to pass out,”.

I’m about to leave and grab him some food, when he speaks, “You… why did it have to be you?”.

I freeze in place, I don’t dare to turn around. My mind flashes with memories of Feyre not wanting to teach me archery because she was busy, or how the boys at Rita’s never even looked at me, or how Elain took it upon herself to make me hate everything about me, or how everyone had their other half and I had just found mine. But not even a full hour of knowing me he hated me.

And somehow after all those years of rejection, self hatred and jealousy my heart broke one last time.

I assume he could feel it through the bond, as I wasn’t all that used to blocking people out of my mind yet.

I run down the stairs to get off the roof, to get as far away from him as possible.

Finally, finding an unoccupied balcony on the opposite side of the palace, I settled there, sobbing my broken heart out. The kohl from my eyes streaming down my face. My fingers red from rubbing my stinging eyes.

I looked around at the material of the dress pillowing around me. Such a waste of such a breathtaking dress.

Soft crying filled the room, my ears were ringing as I hadn’t heard the High Lord of Day Court enter.

“My dear, may I ask what’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

Gasping I stood up and did a sorry excuse of a curtesy, “High Lord” I bowed my head.

“Helion is fine,”

He sat down right next to the place where I was sitting. His muscled arm gently tapped the spot beside him as an invitation.

I sit down, smoothing my skirts out.

As if he can sense the awkwardness he clears his throat and says “We can stay quiet or we can talk about my son or your mate?”.

My eyes widen in shock. “How do you know me?” I mutter out.

“Sunshine I’m the High Lord of Day Court and unbeknownst to you, Rhysand talks a lot about you during meetings so most of the high lords consider you a little sister, but for me you’re like the daughter I never had,” he confesses.

A man I had not met before today, considered me his daughter, and six other high lords think of me as a little sister. My eyes well up in tears, my father had been one of the only people other than Nesta to ever truely care about me. And I had cried for months when he died.

To have someone think of me as their daughter again brought out a fresh wave of tears.

As if reflex, my head rests against Helion’s shoulder, we gaze into the night sky, in a comfortable silence. A strong hand reaches out and softly taps my head in a soothing rhythm.

“It’s ok sunshine.” he whispers.

After a while my tears stain my cheeks, Helion speaks up “I think you should give your mate another chance, I think you’ve mistaken his intentions,”.

Taking in his advice, I wordlessly stand up and hug the high lord. “Thank you” I breathe out.

Pulling away, I walk through corridors in search of Lucien.

A hand grabs mine and pulls me into a dark corner, while another hand muffles my screams.

I’m about to put the training Cassian gave me into use when I see a familiar pair of mismatched eyes.

“You can’t scream, I just wanted to talk to you,” he pleaded. Once his hand reluctantly leaves my mouth, I nod as a signal for him to keep going.

“When I said what I said before, I didn’t mean it as if you weren’t good enough for me,” he started. “I meant it as I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” My eyes soften at his words. “I mean yes I am devastatingly handsome,” I roll my eyes at his smug words, unable to hide my own smile when his lips twitch upwards.

“But I don’t think I could ever be good enough for you, a thousand lifetimes over,” he whispers, impossibly close to me but at the same time painfully far away.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Lucien,” I mumble cupping his cheek. “Please have me,” he murmurs.

I grab his face gently and fuse our lips together.

“I’m yours, if you’re mine,”

a/n i’m sorry girl dad!helion is just too good to resist and like imagine being like a little sister to all the high lords (instead of heron it’d be eris), hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

[leejeann]

The chaos seemed to tear through her very body, her hair flowing behind her and disintegrating into the sky like smoke, a heaviness in the world where she sat. Glitching and fragmenting, she turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “WHO ARE YOU?” he shouted at her, staggering ever closer. She caterwauled at him, her voice warbled and broken, like a broken record, and anguished —“I-I-I- DON’T KNO-O-O-OW!”

Another fanart from ch 89 of Keys Are People, Too by @inc0mple! I read this chapter and immediately knew I had to paint the dream sequence somehow because like, dude what haunting imagery.

Once again, timelapse below the cut! This one's fittingly a bit more on the chaotic side

I barely knew how I wanted to draw it when I started tbh. When I read "-it felt like he could see the wind" I thought "Okay so Starry Night but horrifying, cool" and I think I ended up aiming for something between that and like, a storybook illustration where the ink is bleeding. Because, you know, storybook stuff.

You might even be able to see the moment the art style finally clicked, if you squint.

I drew like half of this with an awful migraine headache as well so I was lowkey channeling that energy until my medicine finally kicked in

Rip the close-up panel of Chase's face. I immediately knew I wasn't going to get it to look right and went yeahhh let's just draw the hands thing instead. 10/10 choice I think

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

My current Art Stuff Collection Including: Lotta Lemon Lime, Starry Sky, Sassy Starberry, Frutie Cutie, Charmin Cherry, Electric Apple, Stylin Strawberry and Sherbet Shake

1996-2004

I am so grateful I was able to find these for sale and that I had the money to get them. They all smell great except the Melon Mania Shower Gel.

[cheesycatz]

Worm in the Apple (the Wormton AU fic) is at 120k words! Obviously the worm guy loves apples, fruit, and sugary stuff in general, though it holds no nutritional value for him. It's fitting, since most of the "worms" found in apples are actually just some form of insect, just like how Wormton himself isn't an actual worm. Being as contradicting as possible is his whole thing, I suppose.

May blithering helminth codswallop posthaste be upon thee if thoust must ruminate over thine virulent and insiduous merchant Sir Spammington G. Spammington The Deceitful:

Anyways, I've been struggling to write the depressing crap, so I often like to imagine the ending where they can all be happy together in Castle Town. I interpret Castle Town as a place where darkners are less bound to fate, since it doesn't seem to manifest from the real world, and is made of pure darkness, whatever that means. Wormton wouldn't have to hide anymore, but he would very much be, uh, neutralized if he tries to infect anything. He wouldn't get to have sixteen identical feral worm children that look like slightly smaller mirror images of him crawling all around the place, unfortunately; Castle Town could do without a highly invasive species that eats and destroys everything. I imagine that he'd keep the suit jacket so that he actually has some pockets, as well as to hide himself a little bit. Malworms naturally like to stay outside of the spotlight, so he's not very comfortable without his disguise. Not that being crammed inside his disguise was much more comfortable, but, hey, what other option did he have?

I like to imagine the addisons getting stuck with Wormton in Castle Town due to it having greater population density. I'm considering making it so that they don't even know he's there at first, like those criminal cases where some guy is living in a family's attic for months unnoticed. He'll have the opportunity to harass Swatch, interact with other characters like Lancer, and send "mild" death threats to Rouxls. I think he'd avoid Kris and the other lightners. He tries to kill Kris and absorb the SOUL from the get-go, and the two of them lack that puppet connection, since Wormton never picked up the phone. Still, he does pick up on their stilted movements that mimic his own when he's puppeteering his disguise, and does realize that the SOUL is a little more controlling than he would want, so they eventually reach a peaceful conclusion (This AU follows the pacifist normal route. This cold-blooded mf would probably just go into hibernation and do absolutely nothing if the player did a Weird Route). He's still pissed about them taking his shadow crystal, even if the starry night sky it once let him witness will never shine through its surface again. Kris is such a gremlin from what we know that I think it would he sweet if he valued the fact that, while they find his puppet-like disguise creepy, they're unfazed by his real appearance. Kris can go on his "people I don't fantasize about murdering and eating regularly" list, which might just be his "nestmates :^]" list if he'd actually admit it

Back to writing about him hating himself so much that he can't fathom someone healing him unless it was a transactional favor, hiding in a locked closet with no stimulation because he thinks he's trying to kill Blue whenever he's in an instict-driven half-asleep state (emphasis on thinks), believing the only reason that Blue is worried about him hiding so much is because they want him to leave faster, understanding so little of his actual species that he becomes stressed when he does anything that "isn't normal," Having fits of anger and mental breakdowns and feeling bad about it afterwards, using the worst coping mechanisms known to man, and devouring an entire 16 inch regular crust meat lover's pizza in one sitting

Cover art concept as a lil treat. Probably won't actually draw it until I'm ready to start releasing chapters, but it's fun to think about for now. I'll do my best to live up to expectations as someone with zero experience writing fiction and long-form content in general o7

[aroacesafeplaceforall]

Dude did you seriously RB HP shit in 2024? Nice fucking try being a trans ally. Anyone who supports r*wlings work nowadays doesnt give a fuck abt trans people.

Love people like this as I’ve addressed it so much let’s go through it step by step as children okay?

1- IM TRANS

2- I will say it again- liking and reblogging FAN ART FAN WORK AND FANS OF WORK is not the same as BUYING TERF STUFF!! I haven’t Brough anything HP related since like 2017-16, and that was a gift!!

2a I will say separating the artist from art isn’t always possible if the artist continues to profit of the art. However, gay fanfiction that the terf absolutely hates is not supporting her in anyway that will promote her work. 95% of all HP fanworks will have a “fuck JKR” disclaimer and we regularly talk shit.

2b. Gay fanfiction ≠ profit, buying a video = profit

3 I WRITE MARAUDERS FANFICTION ITS MY SIDE PROJECT I LITERALLY HAVE A BLOG DONT LIKE DONT FOLLOW MY GUY @theres-an-endless-starry-sky

ANYGAYS

FUCK JKR

FUCK TERFS

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Hraetnug

We've got a good variety of results here, so I'm just going to run through the usual stuff and get to them.

If anyone isn't sure what this "bestiaryposting" thing is about, you can find an explanation and previous entries at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

All of the art below is based on this entry:

If you want to participate, next week's bestiaryposting will be based on this entry:

And the art is below the cut:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) decided something with wings that doesn't fly might well be a flightless bird, and has drawn a very good penguin/auk/thing. I really like how it's posed against the starry sky; it's evocative. For additional details, check the linked post.

@ectocs (link to post here) thought of sea turtles instead -- which I can totally see. I've had the good fortune to witness a few sea turtle hatchings, and the description of the eggs in the sand absolutely tracks. However, there's the issue that the idea of wing-shaped fins is not compatible with "its feet are like those of a camel" -- hence the very cool shell design. I like it; it's quite clever. The linked post contains some additional discussion of the thoughts and inspirations behind this design, go look at it. (Also, thank you for providing alt text.)

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has taught me a new word with this post -- xerocolous. Also, we have a medieval-style dragon here, complete with that ubiquitous wavy-eared head -- it does fully fit the description, too. Always appreciate a little medieval styling; those damned ears made me smile. There's additional explanation in the linked post -- also, thank you for providing alt text.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) has laid out a brief but excellent explanation of their design process. It seems to have gone like this:

"What animals do this with their eggs?" "Snakes do that." "But snakes don't have wings or camel-like feet." "This one does."

Brilliant. Love it. No notes. (Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@pomrania (link to post here) also went with "flightless bird" and admits the inadvertent resemblance of their design to Big Bird -- it does have a certain Muppet-like quality, I must say. For additional information, please see the linked post. I particularly like the note that giving it a "no thoughts head empty" facial expression was fully intentional.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) also thought of sea turtles and then questioned how this could be compatible with the camel feet. Their solution, which I think came out extremely well here, was to simply draw a camel/turtle hybrid. I kind of love this design -- and, of course, the stylized art.

@strixcattus (link to post here) has drawn a very charming flightless bird. I really like the sort of shaggy design, which I assume is indicative of kiwi-style feathers. As is normally the case, Strixcattus has also included a modern naturalist-style interpretation of the animal, which I, as usual, recommend reading via the linked post.

To the Aberdeen Bestiary...

Once again, this is basically the same bird we see in a bunch of these, with the exception of its (surprisingly accurate) camel-like feet. However, this is in fact the ostrich. (I have no idea why one of them appears to be eating the eggs.)

I honestly don't have a lot to add here. Bit surprising to see a different set of myths about the ostrich rather than the "head in the sand" thing.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Unusual Associations Tag!

Let's go with Tristan Mallory from Crash Stardom! and Dylan Millihan from What Lurks In The Hollow.

Rules: pick an OC and describe what you associate with them in each category

Tristan Mallory

Seasoning - Vanilla

Weather - A crisp night in spring

Color - Neon purple, pastel pink and gold

Sky - A starry midnight sky

Magical power - He doesn't have magic, but I think that if he did he would have some song or sound based powers, due to the fact that he is a popstar singer.

Plant - Purple Hyacinth (this flower means sorrow and suffering, while also symbolizing a wish for forgiveess, and occasionally playful joy)

Weapon - Pepper Spray & Taser

Social media - Any social media. He's a celebrity, so he has every kind of social media there even is lol

Makeup - Gliterry eyeshadow, lipgloss, eyeliner

Candy - Salted caramel chocolate bars

Fear - Being hated by the people he loves or ending up alone

Method of long distance travel - Car, occasionally a jet or tour bus.

Art style - Singing, songwriting, playing guitar, playing piano

Mythological creature - Scylla and unicorns.

Stationary - A DIY sketchbook and glitter pens.

Celestial object - Hypernova

Dylan Millihan

Seasoning - Black coffee, cinammon and occasionally honey

Weather - A windy and dry summer late afternoon/dusk where he can just drive around aimlessly in his Chevy

Color - Denim blue, charcoal black and autumn orange

Sky - Sunset sky where the deep oranges and pinks mix with white while the dark of the night seeps in.

Magical power - He doesn't have any magic but I think that if he did, it would be either enhanced strenght/endurance or shield generation powers, if not both.

Plant - A sturdy oak tree (oak trees are usually associated with protection and strenght, being symbols of perseverance and resilience in the face of hardship, which really he fits his tough 'I can take on anything' persona)

Weapon - Brass Knuckles

Social media - Maybe YouTube Music or Spotify. He doesn't usually care about social media at all, but he likes music so I could see him as only using those two apps.

Makeup - Aftershave only. Maybe some small, black hoop earrings if he really is attending something fancy.

Candy - Toffee

Fear - Being weak or being otherwise a failure. Being unable to protect Amy (his little sister) or unable to provide for her. Being seen as vulnerable.

Method of long distance travel - His Chevy

Art style - None. Maybe doodling on a stray piece of paper when he gets really bored but he's openly terrible at art.

Mythological creature - Cerberus

Stationary - Also none but he has a notepad he occasionally scribbles stuff in with a black pen or marker. Usually just 'to-do lists'

Celestial body: Comet

My Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cakeinthevoid, @clairelsonao3,

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild, @anyablackwood, @amaiguri,

@lyutenw @finickyfelix

@thecomfywriter, @the-letterbox-archives, @differentnighttale @wyked-ao3

@thelovelymachinery @an-indecisive-nerd

@zinabug-writes @fifis-corner

Let me know if you'd like to be added!