#rose gold halo earrings

[divourdiamonds]

The Diamond Stud Earrings exude elegance and glamour, making them the perfect accessory for any occasion. The timeless design showcases a dazzling centre diamond, which is the focal point of the piece. The diamond is surrounded by a shimmering halo setting, which enhances the brilliance and sparkle of the stone.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 10)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

Everything was white. Pristine white. 

You couldn’t be blind, but no one would blame you for entertaining the idea as nothing but white stretched beyond your gaze.

Unending white. 

Uncanny. White. 

“Hello?” You asked the white abyss. Your call echoed out and back in, the way you imagined sound would echo in a canyon. 

“Hello!” 

You screamed, jumping up at the new voice coming from somewhere high above you. You tried to pinpoint where it came from, staring up at what you hoped was the sky before things slowly materialized. 

Pastel pinks, oranges and soft blues bled into the white, adding definition to what had once been literally nothing. The whiteness remained in the shape of buoyant, fluffy clouds pillowing all around you. 

“Over here!” The voice chimed. “Oh no, here! You’re getting warmer! Almost there!”

After circling around like a dog after your own tail, you finally found the source. Behind you rose a ginormous golden gate, gleaming beneath an electric-looking, all-seeing eye.

 And at its entrance towered a gold and platinum podium. 

A very… well, there was no other way to say it — a very white man with swooping blond hair eyed you from the top of the podium, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hiya! Welcome!” The man said. “You’re right on time!” 

“Uh, okay…?” You replied. 

Without a hitch, the blond lifted up a large tome and began flicking through the pages. In the meantime, you stood there awkwardly, a question on the very tip of your tongue. 

“Wh-um, where am I, exactly?” You finally asked. 

“Why, you’re in Heaven of course!” He stated jovially before turning the book around and tapping on a name. “This is you, correct?”

Your name stared back at you in a glowing golden font, all pretty and shiny — 

And underlined? 

“Yeah.” You blinked. “Wait, did you just say Heaven?”

“Mm-hm, yep! And if I could just get you to stand right here at the center of the platform, that’d be great.” 

An elevated slab of pure gold rose from the clouds beneath your feet a little ways ahead of you. Timidly, you made your way over and onto the platform as instructed. You were pleasantly surprised at the instant warmth that met the bottoms of your bare feet. 

“Pe-rr-fect!” With a flap of suddenly conjured wings, the gatekeeper floated down to hover right beside you. “Now, we just wait for Emily. She should be here in 3, 2, 1… .5 — ”

A loud clang startled you out of your skin for the second time, and you whipped around to face the woman that had spontaneously appeared in front of you.

She panted. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to be late!” 

The golden gates pulled back to reveal the white-haired newcomer in all her splendor. This other angel was bedecked in a floor-length white gown to match her downy-white hair and periwinkle-grey skin dotted with white freckles. A halo hung over her head, casting an eternal light over her large, bluish eyes that sparkled with mirth. 

Like the gatekeeping angel, her wings flapped behind her, but you noted how they seemed to flutter nervously. Or perhaps excitedly? 

“Welcome to Heaven!” She opened her arms toward you. “We’re so glad you’re here! I’m Emily, but you can call me Emmy, or E, or Millie. Whatever you want!” 

You waved dazedly. “Hi.” 

Emily stopped short of touching you, despite looking like she was about to wrap her arms around you in a hug. Instead, the angel bit her lower lip as she stared at you. 

“I really am sorry I was late. I got caught up talking with Sera, making sure everything was all ready for your arrival.” She gushed. “Thank you for greeting her, Peter!” 

Peter brightened. “Of course.” 

Emily turned back to you, buzzing with anticipation like a bumblebee. “Anyway, I’m sure you have tons of questions! No worries at all! I’m here to give you a tour and show you around your new home!”

You cautiously took the hand offered to you, and let yourself be led through the golden gate. 

— 

Heaven was very beautiful, and very clean. The polished golden floors and beautifully-crafted architecture, complete with smiling people of all races, sexes and species didn’t unwrench you from a nagging sense of confusion however. 

“Um. Emily?” You asked your companion — well, one of your companions. Peter had elected to join the two of you on your tour, commenting that he’d gotten someone to cover his eternal shift at the gate for the next few hours. 

“Yes! Yes?” She smiled at you encouragingly. No doubt, your silence, while it had not stopped her constant chatter, had been a downer in as far as engagement. 

“I’m… dead. Right?” You asked. “I mean that’s how one gets to Heaven, so obviously I am… right?”

The mood turned down at that, with Emily turning morose. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” 

“Okay, good. I mean — I’m dead, but I’m having a hard time remembering h-how it… happened.” You admitted, embarrassed. And a little afraid, if you were honest with yourself. “Is that… normal?”

Emily and Peter stopped on either side of you, twin looks of confusion on their poreless faces. 

Peter was quicker to recover. “Oh that can happen sometimes! Dying can be a very traumatic thing for the soul.” 

Emily seemed hesitant for the first time since you’d met her, but with a look from Peter, she seemed to gain resolve. “Yes, yeah. Lots of people forget… but you’ll remember in time, I’m sure!”

“But wait!” Emily gasped. “We could ask Sera about it!” 

She clapped her hands together joyfully, while Peter’s expression teetered on uncertainty. 

“Uh, Em? I don’t think —” 

“We were headed her way anyway.” Emily nodded as if affirming her own plan. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help us figure this out!”

The angel yanked you forward in her quest to get to Sera (whoever that was) and had you stumbling on pure fluff to catch up with her. 

Many angels raced to get out of the way as Peter called out in alarm, but apart from shouldering a particularly tall angel clad in a chasuble, you were unable to stop or slow down. 

—

“Hello child.”

The Seraphim (“Sera.” Emily had urged) was so large that you had to crane your neck up to see her face. 

She was beautiful in the most ethereal way. To look upon her was to look at a celestial body and feel your own insignificance dragging you down and swallowing you whole. 

Your surroundings — a gold and white antechamber with delicately carved archways and a grand war table in its center — did not help. 

Emily laid a hand on your shoulder with concern before you realized that you’d been paralyzed by the scene before you and had yet to say a word.

You stuttered a hello, and Sera’s stoney face softened into an understanding smile. “Be not afraid, my friend. I mean no harm.” 

You returned the smile, albeit shakily. 

Emily squeezed your shoulder. “Sera? We have a question.”

The Seraphim gestured with open palms. 

“Well, we were going around Heaven, and just kind of talking before um… well…”

“Emily, dear. Please speak up.” Sera’s command was gentle but firm.

Emily bounced in her spot, unable to keep herself from floating up from the ground. 

“Shesaysshedoesn’trememberhowshegothere!” She blurted out.

You and Sera both stared at Emily for a long moment, trying to process what exactly she had said. Sera had opened her mouth once more before the grand entrance into the committee room was slammed open and all heads turned to the unwelcome sound. 

The angel with the chasuble came barrelling in, and the omnipresent sunlight that touched everything around you glinted off the sharp black horns winding down from his skull. Or was it a skull? The face of this particular angel looked odd to you, with its smooth, glassy surface and flickering pixelated expression that replaced natural features like lips, cheeks and a nose. 

Their appearance looked at odds with everything else you’d seen in Heaven, regardless of the holy garbs they wore. Everything, while somewhat fantastical on the basis of it actually existing, resembled the organic and natural, and this figure stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison. 

“What the actual fuck? She’s actually here?!” The abrasive, aggressive voice that came out his digitized face shook you from your musings. 

You shrunk back toward Emily and Sera, instinctively trying to get away from the rapidly approaching figure that also towered over you. He glared in your direction, as if you were an insect he wanted to squash, and only when you lost the nerve to meet his gaze did you realize there was another angel behind him. This one wore a similar face, though they were smaller, slimmer and straight-backed. They wore darker vestments and jet-black horns as well, with wings nearly as jagged and hardlined. 

“Adam,” Sera greeted hesitantly. “I don’t believe you were summoned.” 

“Why is she here?” ‘Adam’ demanded, as if the Seraphim had never spoken. His companion stood firmly just a pace behind him, arms behind their back. 

Their combined presence was so off-putting, and your brow furrowed with mounting confusion. Sera’s shoulders slowly rose and fell as she sighed, disapproval in the hard line of her mouth. 

“That was part of the agreement.” 

“Uh, yeah — with the Devil!” His demeanor completely threw you off, so much so that you didn’t catch the full extent of what he’d said. “Who the fuck keeps their end of the deal with that asshole?”

You couldn’t hold back a scoff of disbelief, even as your confusion deepened. ‘The devil?’ 

A hand wrapped around your forearm, making you turn to look at Emily, who’d once more moved beside you. Her ire was clear, though much less contained than Sera’s. “Who are you to question Divine Judgement?” 

Adam laughed condescendingly. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the fucking CEO of Divine Judgement, kid!” 

“We are literally judges, juries and executioners in Hell.” The other angel chimed in, flat and resolute. The smirk that curved her stitched lips gave away some covert sense of satisfaction in that statement. 

“Executioners?” Emily’s voice rose a few octaves. “What’re you talking about?” 

She was legitimately bewildered. 

“Enough.” Sera stepped in. “Adam, this has never been, nor was it ever, a debate. If you have a grievance, you can take it up with the counsel at a later date.” 

“My ‘grievance’ isn’t gonna fucking wait for this bitch to fuck shit up!” Adam pointed at you with a poisonous claw. 

“Excuse me?” You demanded in sheer disbelief. “Who do you think you are?!” 

The grin Adam shot you was more a bearing of one’s teeth, which further threw you for a loop as, again, his face was completely digital. “I’m fuckin’ Adam. The First Man. The Original Dick. I’ve been here since the fucking beginning. I earned this shit.” 

“Who do you think you are?” He asked, advancing on you. “You think you can whore yourself out to the worst being in all of Creation and still take up space in Heaven? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your gaze narrowed, a stark contrast to the whirlpool of thoughts swirling in your mind at his accusation. 

“HA! Seriously?” His face was mere inches from yours. “What? D’you open your legs for fuckin’ everyone? Have a hard time keeping track of all the brats you pop outta that used vag? Guess so, if even dying for one doesn’t ring your fuckin’ bell.” 

“ADAM!” 

Adam’s sharp grin dropped, expression dawning from stunned to petulant as Sera’s thunderous exclamation reverberated through the vast space between your unusual group. You swore the clouds trembled beneath your feet, but it was hard to care too much with the insinuations that had been thrown at you rattling within your being. 

Dying for… 

“Charlotte.” Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. Air escaped your lungs - which shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already dealing with one crisis upon the epiphany of what you’d been missing this whole time. 

A blitz of images and sordid emotions saw you struggling, legs falling out from under you as the weight of how exactly you’d died forced you down. Emily’s distressed cry sounded from above you, melding with Lucifer’s frantic pleas for you not to go as life drained from your body. 

The Seraphim’s shadow engulfed your broken form while you panicked on Heaven’s floor. 

—

Lucifer sat hunched in his chair, your cold, lifeless hand hanging in his. 

Charlotte had stopped crying and presumably gone to sleep. He hadn’t put up any fight when Cass took her to a crib set up beside your… your bed.

That was who knows how long ago. And apart from Cass coming over the check on his daughter, the elderly worshippers had left him to grieve in peace. 

The King had tried to convince himself to get up. He needed to take Charlotte and leave. Go home. The sight of you in death was unbearable — but he could not move. 

He couldn’t leave you, even if you were no longer there in spirit. The You he loved the most, your soul, was gone and had been gone for some time now. 

You had gone to the one place he could not follow. 

Lucifer’s hanged head slowly rose. His thoughts were starting to become more coherent — what if you hadn’t gone where you were meant to? 

Heaven was a paradise bound by rules, but it was also a cold bureaucracy where things could fall through the cracks. 

And any dealings with him — Heaven’s sworn nemesis — were likely to be one of those things. 

Slow-building anger replaced the gold in his veins as Lucifer considered that his own Deal was not met. If it wasn’t, that meant you were down Below, alone and afraid and suffering. 

The Devil’s claws cricked, fist clenching as he glared at the wall opposite him. 

He would not let you Suffer. Not you. Never you.

And you weren’t here anymore. He needed to know where you’d gone. Now. 

Rising from his seat, Lucifer laid your hand at your side and ignored the tears that stung his eyes at the sight of your ashen face. 

He touched your brow, lingering only to memorize the way your lashes rested against your sinking cheeks before turning to Charlotte’s cradle. 

She was sleeping peacefully, unaware of his anguish, of the great loss that not only he had endured but she as well. It made Lucifer’s heart ache. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, Lucifer conjured the presents he’d made especially for her. 

The twin goats appeared, suspended in the air behind him. Lucifer didn’t bother to turn until their bodies were triple their original size, fur changing from felt to coarse fiber, eyes glowing as they were transformed from button to bonafide, and their bat-like wings began to beat at the air, blowing back the gossamer of Charlotte’s bassinet. 

Lucifer looked between the two magicked goats after kissing his daughter’s fragile head. 

“Stay here and protect the baby.” He ordered. “Charlotte is your top priority, do you understand?” 

The two creatures nodded simultaneously, determination set in their naturally adorable maws. 

“If anything happens, just bleat, and I’ll be back in the wink of an eye.” Lucifer’s wings extended and propelled him upward with a great stroke. 

The King of Hell disappeared through an enormous portal, sparking and swirling reddish-gold before vanishing behind him. 

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems,

[morgaseus]

Thinking about slow dancing with sunday…

Contains slight spoilers for the Penacony quest. Set before the nameless arrived in Penacony.

“Do you know how to dance?”

The scratching of a pen suddenly stopped, he lifted his head, pen hovering above the parchment for a moment, before finally being laid down beside it. Your voice echoed throughout his study, breaking the silence between you two.

“Oh? Where did that suddenly come from?" His gaze drifted towards you. Moonlight spilled through the windows, tracing silver lines across your face. You were always beautiful but basked in the moonlight's glow, you looked absolutely breathtaking, as delicate as the forget-me-not's in his garden.

“I was thinking” you trailed off, slowly walking towards the gramophone resting beside the bookshelf. Your fingers trailed along the smooth brass surface of the gramophone, before finally reaching for the record tucked beside it. And with a click, a slow, but familiar melody filled in the air. “How about a dance?” You turned to him with a smile.

You needn't say anymore. He rose from his chair, his leather shoes creating a soft thud along the carpet as he walked towards you. The moonlight that filtered through the window bathed him in an ethereal glow. It danced across his features, casting a faint glow to his golden halo. His dull gray hair shimmered, the moonlight painting it silver. It emphasized the sharp, yet, soft angles of his face. His feathery soft wings, pierced with golden studs. You wonder how he got that, whenever you asked, he’d always changed the subject. You let out a faint smile. Everything about him was captivating but it was his eyes that drew you in. His golden eyes, full of secrets, held a warmth that enveloped you. You could get lost in them forever. Ahhh. truly, he looked like a being that fell from the heavens. Befitting his title as “the most handsome man in Penacony.” 

As he reached you, his hand extended, palm open and inviting. A soft smile present in his face, his gaze never leaving yours. “Well, then, would you care for a dance, m’lady?”

You gladly took his hand and slipped into his embrace, swaying together to the rhythm of the melody. In this moment, he could lose himself entirely. Whenever you’re with him, time seems to slow down, the world fading into a blur.

The weight of the Oak family’s legacy - the 106,366 oak family members - loomed over him like a dark cloud. And with the Charmony Festival looming, a single misstep could shatter generations of aspirations. He'd been preparing for this ever since the dreammaster whispered words of promises in his ear. Every moment led to that one, final performance. 

No longer would Robin have the need to go on a “tour” and risk her life to bring harmony. No longer would everyone have to suffer and endure mortal pain. No longer would everyone have to tear down each other's throat for a mere sliver of gold. He will bring order and utopia to everyone. Yes, he will be their salvation, not a tyrant, not a conqueror, but a shepherd ushering his flock to a new dawn. 

Yet, for a moment, under the soft glow of the moon, he allowed himself to forget. In your arms, the crushing weight seemed to ease.

For now, it was just you and him.

[roseamongroses]

trompe-l'œil

Tags: Melvika/ Mafia Au if u squint / Implied Violence / Mild Sexual Content / One Night Stand / Sevika Does Not Get Paid Enough / no beta we die like Viktor / mel's pretty privilege / One Shot / flashbacks and flash forwards / resolved tension but at what cost / 2k

Summary:

Two women, a bar, a midnight tryst, and a lot of unanswered questions.

-

ao3

-

“Is--is the bar closed?” A sliver of a voice asked, hoarse and uncertain as she approached.

Sevika looked up, annoyance rolling off her in waves.

It was bad enough that tonight was already fucking horrible. A bachelor’s party for some tough-shit Enforcer wrecked the place earlier. The whole group filled with shit personalities and shittier tips. Of course some dumb-ass was trying to get in at closing, as if they don’t see the keys in her-

Huh.

All sharp words died on her tongue as she turned around.

Gorgeous.

The woman was undeniably beautiful.

Tall, dark, and dripping with gold—her glinting jewelry caught the street light's shine, as if a halo emitted from them. Locs spilled over her shoulders in waves, framing the sharply drawn face as they tilted their head, confused.

Dark makeup smeared her cheeks. Those hazel eyes, dark and lovely. Her busted lip and rubbed raw eyes a blooming red that could be from crying—or yelling. Knuckles bruised, bleeding, the delicate curve of her hand pulling her thin, silk blazer over the swell of her chest tight.

Her eyes burned something fierce even as she folded in on herself, body struggling against the cool, night air.

“…No,” Sevika lied, shameless as she took in the sight, “We’re still open,”

She looked like she needed a drink—and Sevika was kind enough to offer her company in the meantime.

“Truly?” The woman asked, skeptically glancing at the keys in Sevika’s hands, lips pursed, “I can leave and find another—“

“Tip me well and I’ll give you all the time you need,” Sevika drawled, rehooking the keys onto her belt loop and pushing the door--leaning against it to keep it propped open.

The woman’s pretty mouth curled at the offer, a breathless thanks on her lips as she squeezed past, smelling sweet. Sevika followed close behind.

-

Sevika buried her face into her bed, shying from the early morning light in favor of breathing in that sweetness deep.

She was slow stirring, a manicured hand coaxing her awake. Nails dragged over the well-built planes of her back, lingering every so often—teasing those stinging marks scattered across.

Locs tickled her skin, a mouth lowering to Sevika’s ear, “Good morning,” the woman whispered, breath warm.

“It’s too early,” Sevika grumbled, arm folding over her head.

The woman chuckled in response, soft curves filling the little space between them as she leaned in further, mouth searching before it found Sevika’s. She kissed her slow and indulgent, drinking in her complaints.

A particularly distracting hand wandered, dipping lower and lower, following that trail of hair before pressing against the hard line between Sevika’s stomach and hips.

“…You still heading out—?”

“Mhm.”

“Towels are in the closet beside the bathroom,” Sevika said, “You might have to jiggle the door if it gets stuck.” she warned as her mouth drew away.

One more kiss pressed against the shell of Sevika’s ear before the woman slipped out of bed.

Only then did Sevika crack open one dark eye, tracking the sway of their hips—that rich, inked and bruised skin —across the room.

A wicked grin split across her face at the sight, more than content to let her eyes close once more as a bone-deep satisfaction lulled her back to sleep.

A few hours had past, and then—

Beep.

Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee-

A hand slapped away the phone, sending it across the room with a curse.

Sevika sat up, rolling her neck. She didn’t bother reaching for her prosthetic just yet, that aching sensation setting her skin aflame.

Inhaling deep, she rose, shuffling across the room at a lethargic pace in search of that wretched device.

Squinting at the cracked screen, she grimaced, before answering the call.

-

Sevika worked a lot of odd jobs.

It was usually grunt work, dirty jobs that made her tax-guy’s skin itch each season. Some nights and weekends she worked at the bar just for some semblance of stability.

Most days, however, she was a glorified assistant. After her last stint blew up in her face, she landed a job at a farce of a ‘non-profit’ that kept her bills paid and vices fed.

Technically, today was her day off.

Yet here she was—again.

The upper buttons of her vest popped again in protest as she adjusted the dark cuffs of her sleeves, fiddling with the silver cufflinks.

Sevika exited the glinting elevators, schooling her expression as she headed towards the meeting room.

Suits miled inside the room. Sharply tailored pants, oversized blazers, and leather holsters. All settled around that large spanning oak desk—air thick with the taste of burning metal.

She flanked the other side of the large, leather chair, folding her arms in front of her-- mirroring the stance of the beared, behemoth of a man on the other side.

They didn’t have to wait long before the doors slammed open again. A broad shouldered, sharp faced Black woman in a tailored suit took heavy strides across the room. Everyone she passed sat up a little straighter, any lingering chatter ceasing all at once.

Ambessa Medarda.

She was more of a force of nature than a person, to be frank. Every time she stepped into a room she couldn’t help but pull focus, to demand respect. And it wasn’t because of her stature, but because of her history.

The weight of her heavy hands-- casted in iron and blood-- effectively scattered the remains of the two fractured cities.

Lines were drawn, far more complicated than before.

Not far behind Ambessa was the curious clicking of heels. A flutter of white silk and a shapely pencil skirt catching the attention of the room.

Tall, dark, and—

Dripping with gold.

Sevika stiffened.

Hazel eyes flitted around the room, landing briefly on Sevika, before looking away just as quickly. The woman sat down beside Ambessa, her back to Sevika as she quietly shuffled through her stacks of paper.

Seeing the two next to each other, it was impossible not to see the resemblance.

-

Sevika set two glasses down on the counter before busying herself with making the drinks.

The woman perched herself on top of the bar stool, shrugging off the blazer to reveal the intricate geometric tattoos blazing across her shoulders and arms.

She crossed her legs, wiping her hands and face clean with a damp napkin before flicking open a compact mirror .

“Are you always so accommodating?” she asked with softly accented words, peering into the small mirror.

“Depends on who I’m accommodating,” Sevika said over her shoulder.

“You don’t even know my name,” The woman notes, snapping the compact closed and tucking it into her bra.

Sevika’s eyes followed the movement, pouring her a drink and pushing it across the counter.

She settled her weight against the counter, crowding into the other woman’s space, “You got a name then?”

The woman traced a nail along the rim of the glass, looking up through half-lidded eyes as she gave her a coy smile.

-

Ambessa addressed the room with a disinterested look, kicking up her heavy boots, “This is my daughter,” she said plainly, lifting a hand towards the woman in question, never once looking her way, “She is my blood and represents the House of Medarda. You will address her as you would me.”

Sevika wondered what type of expression the younger Medarda wore, faced with all those hot-blooded eyes pinning her down all at once.

There were many ways to get ahead in this type of business. Some methods more violent than others—but there was a tried and true tradition—

Ambessa’s jaw was tight, lips sharply turned in distaste, “And you will keep your hands to yourself,” she hotly added.

-

Metal and skin—large hands palmed at the curve of the woman’s thighs. Sevika pulled her closer to the edge of the counter, skirt bunching up to her hips.

The woman’s back arched, gasping as she steadied herself. She gripped Sevika’s shoulders desperate to get closer to that relentless, wet heat.

“Fu- Oh, God—“

Sevika abruptly pulled away—much to the woman’s displeasure--nosing at the patch of curls, “That’s not my name,” she teased, drinking in the sight. That pretty face, impatient, slowly losing composure.

“You’re so—“ The woman’s hands shot up the back of Sevika’s neck, tangling in her hair as she gasped, “Se—“

-

“-vika.“ Ambessa snapped, snatching her attention.

Most of the other goons and we’re dispersed for their assignments at this point, leaving her personal aids and her daughter behind.

Sevika inclined her head in acknowledgement, bracing herself.

“Escort Amelia to our estate, “ Ambessa ordered, rising from her seat, “Her personal guard is indisposed at the moment, so you’ll accompany her until further notice.”

“…Yes, Ma’am.” Sevika replied.

-

“I’m not a taxi,” Sevika said, jerking her chin to redirect the woman.

The woman stopped herself, startled, before she slid into the passenger seat instead, seatbelt clicking on.

“Where to?” Sevika asked, glancing at her side mirrors as she pulled out of her parking space.

The woman’s brow furrowed,“ I can’t go home tonight…” she admitted, fidgeting with the skewed buttons of her top, eyes downcast.

-

The passenger door closed.

Sevika’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel, cocking an eyebrow up, “Amelia….Merdarda,” she repeated, disbelieving.

She said her name slow, testing the weight of it on her tongue, trying to match the metallic taste with her memories from the prior night.

Amelia stared out the window, hands folded in her lap, polite expression strained—but it didn’t falter. It was as if she quietly receded into herself, that flickering warmth dulled, “I’d rather you call me Mel,” she murmured.

Sevika sighed, “Okay—Mel,” she started, deciding to get straight to the point, “Does she know?��� she asked, starting the car up and quickly pulling out of the parking space.

Mel closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the leather seat. Her profile flickered, shadows cutting across her stark as the lights of the parking garage rippled past, “That we met? Yes,” she answered, slowly, “That we had...relations? God no,” she muttered, brow furrowing a bit, “And she can’t find out. If we give that woman an inch, she’ll drag us for miles for shitting where we eat,” she added on bitterly.

There were many ways to get ahead in this type of business. Some methods more violent than others—but there was a tried and true tradition and—

Ambessa had zero tolerance for indulgence in the workplace. Even less so for people who relied on it—letting it muddy the waters between excellence and greatness. Even if it wasn’t their intentions—she’d make her own assumptions and deal with them accordingly.

Sevika considered her for a moment, weighing the possibilities in her mind. Scrutinizing that pretty face—so sweet, so carefully put together. It's easy to assume she was lying—misleading her—and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Ambessa would lure them— test them to see what makes them tick.

Yesterday, Mel was shaken up, bleeding—yet so easily put herself back together.

Sevika glanced down at Mel’s lap—her hands were clenched together tight—fingers trembling ever so slightly.

In the little time she’s known Mel, she’s never seen her so—uncomfortable.

Sevika made up her mind all at once.

“Any reason she assigned me to you?” Sevika gruffly asked, flicking on the heated seats, passing their exit and abruptly turning into a side-road instead—the scenic route.

“It’s a…practical choice, “ Mel reasoned, “She doesn’t have the time to vett new personale for me—and she’d never delegate the task to anyone else— so she chose someone who already reports to her directly,” she continued, eyes opening to cast a thoughtful, side-long glance, “She must trust you,” she notes under her breath.

Sevika’s face darkens at that—Trust was a dangerous thing to receive. It wasn’t something Ambessa treated lightly.

The pair fell into silence, Mel watching the long winding roads of the city shift as they entered the countryside. The tension in her body slowly eased, fingers trailing against the window—a silent dance. Those closely guarded musings kept just out of reach.

There were a lot of questions Sevika still had for Mel—but there was one ever persistent thought.

“What… happened to your other bodyguard?” Sevika asked. It was a prickling, innocuous detail that her mind couldn’t help but pick over.

That night—that encounter.

Mel’s fingers stilled, the dance incomplete as Sevika’s words hung between them, “How would I know?” she evenly responded, a murky reflection staring back in the glass, “I was with you all night, wasn’t I?”

Or at least—that’s how the story would be told.

[inoreuct]

a study of bruises, care, and potatoes. 

Zoro’s boots scrape dully as he skids across the deck, bending his knees to drop his centre of gravity, shoulders sinking as he presses a slow breath through his teeth. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” 

He scoffs as Sanji’s stupid fancy shoes come into view, the steel-capped toes he got the cook for his birthday dripping with the same red that’s flowing from his split brow and blurring one half of his vision to shit. Squinting upwards into the light, he finds the midday sun crowning Sanji like a halo, lighting his hair up gold. Beautiful. “Fuck you.”

“Maybe, if you win,” Sanji laughs, easy as anything as he backs away. 

Shusui and Kitetsu sing in his hands as he grounds his stance and spins them around, and he hasn’t unsheathed Wado. Yet. But with the way Sanji’s pushing him back— Zoro grits his teeth and allows a heel to crack across his jaw, letting the momentum turn his body sideways as he ducks low and rams his shoulder into Sanji’s ribs. The cook gasps, managing to drive a knee between them before Zoro shoves it out of the way, spitting out a curse as the swordsman hooks the flat of one sword behind his calf and yanks his leg out from under him, and they hit the ground hard.

Zoro’s laugh rides on his exhale, heartbeat pounding fiercely in his ears, one fist slamming into the ground above Sanji’s head when the cook wraps unfairly long legs around his middle and throws him upwards. It unbalances him just enough for him to go nose-to-plank, just enough for Sanji to flip them and yank Zoro’s wrists down to trap them under his thighs, and just like that—

“Caught you,” Sanji breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly, sweat-damp bangs sticking to his flushed cheek, and Zoro doesn’t fight the grin that bares his teeth. 

“Looks like it,” he says evenly, feeling hardwood press against his skull as he stops resisting. “Come here.”

A blue eye narrows sharply. “Why?”

“Just come here.” His heart lurches when Sanji leans down, suspicious, hair falling over them both like a flaxen curtain. It’s getting long, Zoro notes. Long enough that he could braid it if Sanji wanted. He makes a mental note to bring it up to the cook, waits until a barely-trembling mouth grazes his— 

And cranes his neck back to slam his forehead into Sanji’s nose. 

The cook lurches away with an enraged cry, hands flying to his face as Zoro uses his wrists to lift Sanji by the knees and flip them over again. “You fucking bastard! That’s foul play, you piece of shit—”

Zoro just grins wider, heart pumping hard and body buzzing like a livewire. Sanji looks hot like this with iron dripping off his chin, pooling in his cupid’s bow, staining his mouth rose-rust-ruby even as he smears the heel of his palm over his lower lip, and Zoro isn’t afraid to admit it. 

He watches. Watches Sanji’s eyes drag languidly from the blood on his hand to Zoro’s face, watches him tilt his head, lazy and unhurried, and suck the red off his teeth with that piercing gaze pinning him in place. He tightens his grip on Shusui’s hilt and digs his knuckles into Sanji’s shin as something tightens in his gut. “Never said we had to play fair.”

He watches Sanji’s smile sharpen into something downright predatory seconds before a foot is stomping sole-first into his chest, vicious and just off-centre, kicking the air right out of his damn lungs as he flies back. Fuck, that’s gonna bruise. The pain switches something in him into high gear and Wado’s out of her sheath, a familiar weight in his jaw even as he scrambles to get his bearings, and barely half a breath later Sanji’s on him like a fucking hurricane. 

Another signature roundhouse kick lands on his temple and re-opens the split in his brow, and he would have eaten shit if not for the palm he slams to the deck, pivoting to pop up behind Sanji and swing two swords parallel into his middle. The cook dodges and slips away, driving his heel into Zoro’s hip, and Zoro backs up to give himself space to breathe. 

The sun is blinding even when he isn’t looking up. His breath echoes in his ears, tight as he tries to slow it down, shirt stretching with the heave of his shoulders, pulse a war drum in his veins and his arms nearly trembling with adrenaline and there is blood on his face, in his mouth, sweet and metallic; he spits it in a red splatter onto the ground and sweat nearly steams off his skin. 

Up ahead, Sanji leans back against the taffrail almost leisurely, looking far more composed than he probably feels. He rolls his head back, elbows over the railing as he bares his throat almost arrogantly, and the smug look he tilts to Zoro as he tosses his hair out of his face is a challenge in and of itself.

Zoro crosses the space between them in three great strides and swings. 

He twists and drops low as Sanji slides beneath his sword, and the cook snarls as Wado grazes over his side just deep enough for it to sting. Sanji’s leg comes down over his head and he throws up a forearm, digs his heels in as he braces for the impact, shoving forward as soon as it connects. A knee jams into the same side as before and Zoro wheezes, core spasming, backing Sanji into the railing with a wide arc of his blade before the cook gets that glint in his eye— 

And Zoro gets an inkling feeling that he’s just lost himself this fight. 

Sanji spins to spring off the railing in a tight flip that brings his heel down directly between Zoro’s shoulder blades, and Zoro sacrifices his balance and Kitetsu in one last bid for victory. He reaches one hand over his head and grapples for a handful of fabric, yanking as hard as he can, biting down into Wado’s hilt as his knees slam into the planks.

Muffling his pained hiss into leather, Zoro manages to flip Shusui in his grip before his wrist is pinned beneath Sanji’s hip. Fuck. His free arm is grabbed and wrenched back, a sole pressed to his throat and forcing him into a kneeling backbend. Sanji slowly pulls harder and forces his upper body back as he thrashes, a subtle threat; it’s a futile effort, anyway. The cook’s out of Wado’s reach with the severity of the lean he’s in, neck tense, chin pushed up as cold, blunt steel digs into his jugular. Zoro’s arm strains in its socket, and as much as he is prideful— He knows when to admit he’s been bested. 

“Yield,” he grits, chest heaving as Sanji puts more pressure on his trachea and his lower back strains with the weight of holding himself up. “I yield.”

“…For today.” Sanji slowly lets go, and Zoro groans as he slumps to the deck. “You’ll beat me tomorrow.”

He spits his sword to the side and unfolds his aching legs from under him, starfishes out, tries to catch his breath. The sky is a brilliant, cloudless, familiar shade of blue. Zoro finds himself smiling and throws an arm over his face to hide it. “Hope that doesn’t mean you’ll go easy on me.”

“When do I ever?” Sanji scoffs, tapping the back of his heel against the swordsman’s thigh for good measure as he gets up. “Come on, marimo. Before the sun turns you into a dried cactus.”

*

He’d been right about the bruising. Purple and yellow blooms vivid across the right side of his ribcage, a deceptively pretty splotch that still makes him bite down a groan when he presses into it with cloth-wrapped ice.

“Let me.” Sanji gently takes the bundle from him, nudging him back until Zoro gets the hint and hauls himself up to sit on the table with a grunt. He lets the cook prod at the edges of the bruise with a frown pulling at his swirly brows, carefully rolling the ice pack back over the area, and he grunts as his ribs shift. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’d strained a couple of intercostal muscles.

The urge to scrub a fist over the blood crusting in his eye is tempting but he resists, knowing that Sanji would probably scream at him if he did— However. His lashes really are starting to stick together. 

Sanji notices, because of course he does. “Hold,” he mutters, pulling one of Zoro’s hands over the ice and stretching to wet a clean cloth by the sink. It’s blessedly cool as he sets it to Zoro’s skin, letting it soak for a few seconds before he starts scrubbing away at dried gore and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You’re all messed up.”

“And whose fault is that?” Zoro asks dryly. “You kick like a fucking donkey. And twice in one spot? Really?” He ducks his head with a laugh when Sanji moves to yank his earrings.

“You’re infuriating,” the cook scowls, at odds with the slow, meticulous way he rubs the cloth over Zoro’s lashline. “And you were distracted today. What’s going on?”

Zoro closes his other eyes and recalls a fierce grin, blood-slick, golden hair and steel toes and a flawless kick slamming into his jaw. “Dunno. Maybe I just love you.”

Sanji stills, and Zoro clocks his soft, quick inhale before he hears the cook shift and opens his eye. “…I’m still not used to that,” Sanji murmurs, more to the floor than anything else, and Zoro tilts his chin up with two fingers tucked beneath.

“I know.” He feels his own shoulders slouching, sinking as he curves toward Sanji like a planet in orbit. He’s tentative when he cups the cook’s jaw steady and lets go of the ice pack to bring his thumb to Sanji’s bloodied nose, but he twitches back when Sanji hisses. “Shit, sorry, curls. Is it broken?”

“Nah,” Sanji chuckles airily, relaxing into Zoro’s touch and letting his eyes slide shut with a sigh as the swordsman prods at his bridge. “Just tender.”

Zoro hums, unsatisfied. “Pass me another cloth.” He wraps the offered fabric around his index finger and wipes away the blood congealed on Sanji’s lip, turning the cook’s face this way and that to make sure he gets everything as lithe hands press the ice back to his torso. 

His own face’s mostly clean now, but his brow still feels a little stiff when he raises it just to make Sanji laugh. No big deal, though; he expects he’ll scrub down before dinner and drag Sanji with him, because otherwise the cook would stay in the galley all night. Zoro loses his train of thought when blue, blue eyes flick up to his, and his breath catches in his chest.

“What?” Sanji murmurs, his jaw nestled in Zoro’s palm, gaze travelling over his face, and suddenly Zoro doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He’s not a man of words. He never has been, really, but he thinks he could try, for Sanji. The man standing between his knees is a prince, for fuck’s sake, in everything else if not in name. Sanji, with skin the colour of white sand under the sunset, eyes like pools of sapphire crystal, slender fingers and gold-spun hair and kindness in spades, given to everyone with a generous hand, even when life had tried to beat it out of him with a stick. He’s regal. Something out of one of those fairytales that Zoro had never believed in.

He’s regal, and sometimes Zoro worries that he’s too rough around the edges for them to fit. 

And then Sanji cusses him out with a sharp tongue and kicks his head back on straight, and he remembers exactly who he’s dealing with. Who he’d fallen in love with. 

Sanji makes a questioning noise but doesn’t shift back when Zoro pulls him closer, gently carding his hair out of the way to press a kiss to the space between his brows. The strands are soft between his fingers, sweet with the lingering scent of Sanji’s conditioner, and Zoro lets himself bury his nose in Sanji’s crown and just… breathe, for a second. 

Arms slide around his waist, and Sanji’s weight leans into his chest. “Are you alright, chéri?”

“I— Yeah.” He shifts a palm to Sanji’s nape and squeezes, mainly to ground himself. “I’m good, cook.” Up this close, it would be difficult to miss the cook’s slight inhale as he draws back, and he frowns. “Your side.”

“S’fine,” Sanji dismisses, shaking his head with a soft smile.

“Lemme see.” 

“Honestly, it’s just a scratch!”

“Let me see.” The cook huffs and rolls his eyes, stepping back to pull his shirt up over his side and Zoro hunches down, finding a clean corner of the cloth as he scrutinises the thin slice on Sanji’s skin. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he says, cleaning it up even as Sanji mutters an “I told you so” under his breath. It didn’t matter how bad it was. He wouldn’t take it any less seriously. 

Sanji drops his hem back down and slips in close again to rest his cheek on Zoro’s shoulder, hands locking at the small of Zoro’s back, and Zoro smooths his palm over the soft cotton of Sanji’s dress shirt. It’s a texture he knows against his skin. He knows all of it; silky hair and a sharp jaw and a smart mouth, white teeth and strong hands and cotton shirts and wayward kicks to the shin and familiar weight against him as they fall asleep. “What’s for dinner?”

Sanji hums, nuzzling into the crook of Zoro’s neck before he pulls away, reluctant. “Potatoes au Gratin and spinach pesto linguine.” He moves over to the sink, pulling a huge bowl of washed spuds from somewhere, sliding it across the table as he tosses Zoro a paring knife and a pointed look. “Chop chop.”

The swordsman scoffs, leaning back on his hands. “Chop chop, he says. No please, no thank you, no nothing—”

“Oh, come on.”

“No appreciation!” he continues, grabbing a potato and sighing at it sadly. “Or financial compensation, mind you, this is unpaid labour—” 

“Marimo,” Sanji begins, pinching his nose bridge but failing to hide his smile. “Darling. My heart. L’amour de ma vie. Will you please peel the damn potatoes, thank you.” 

Zoro sniffs, but picks up the knife.

“You know, one day I’m gonna tell the whole crew what a drama queen you are,” Sanji says lightly, pulling a cabinet open to grab a box of pasta and grabbing a pot from the shelves below. 

“They’ll never believe you.” Zoro shrugs, a what can you do sort of thing, and points the potato at the cook. “And this is still unpaid labour.” 

“You’ll survive. It’s a labour of love.” 

“Don’t recall ever saying I love peeling root vegetables.”

Sanji throws a teaspoon, and it bounces off Zoro’s forehead. “Not the potatoes, moron, me.”

Zoro can’t find a retort to that, so he shuts up and peels. It’s… good. He doesn’t recall ever smiling this much before everything. Before bloody scrapping and the gentle hands after and peeling vegetables in the easy quiet of the galley while Sanji watches the pasta boil. The cook pushes him, stretches his limits and helps him break down barriers that he would’ve been loathe to tackle alone. Helps him to dress wounds he can’t reach. Sanji holds him with a care that Zoro has never bothered with for himself, and it’s good. 

He's listened to Sanji enough to know that these are baby potatoes, finicky to peel because of their thinner skin, and still terribly tender. Sweet. The one he's working on fits nicely in his palm as he guides the knife, angling the edge the way Sanji taught him. The skin spirals over his thumb as he works his way around and he crosses his ankles when he breathes out.

“Marimo.”

“Hm?”

Sanji’s facing away from him, but the cook turns his head just enough for Zoro to see the shrewd look in his eye. “Depending on your performance in helping with the rest of dinner prep, I may be amenable to discussion about… other kinds of compensation.”

Zoro pauses, blinks, and shakes his head with a chuckle. “You always speak real fancy when you want something, curls.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” Sanji sing-songs, wiggling his shoulders as he stirs the pot. “No guarantees, mosshead. Peel!”

A laugh slips from Zoro’s throat, rich and real. Sanji’s steel-tipped shoes tap on the ground as he moves around the galley, comfortable in his element, and Zoro watches him with a fondness that warms his chest. Their cuts will heal. His bruises will fade from green to yellow before they disappear like they were never there, before Sanji paints new ones under his skin, and he’ll peel potatoes while Sanji boils pasta and they’ll curl into bed together knowing that they’ll wake up and do it all over again.

Zoro slips his knife beneath the last strip of peel and places his potato back into the bowl, pale and sweet and tender.

It’s good. 

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Soul

Thank you @sorceresssundries for sending Young and Beautiful as a prompt! It's a beautiful song, I hope you enjoy this. 💜

'Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will.' - Lana Del Rey, Young and Beautiful

Taglist:

@netherese0rb @boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @amorgansgal

His first engagement gift to her was a white gold ring adorned with a pear cut diamond, huge and sparkling, haloed with tiny amethysts. The band twined prettily like strands of Weave, and engraved on the inside in his own hand were the words: ‘I found divinity in you.’ Tav received it via courier, opening the door in her home just off Heapside Strand to see the poor dragonborn woman obscured by armfuls of blooms: blue irises, red roses, massive clouds of peonies and bright purple anemones, even cascades of delicate wisteria.

‘Someone must absolutely adore you!’ the woman gushed, her copper scales gleaming in the morning light. ‘When you’ve taken all these, love, there’s something else for you. There’s a vase here, too- do you want me to help you arrange these?’

‘Oh! That would be wonderful,’ said Tav. ‘Thank you.’ She backed inside for the lady to pass and spied the vase. It was a work of art; a sculptural piece of rose quartz veined with gold. Bringing it carefully inside, she set it by her reading nook, filled it with water, and watched as the courier carefully arranged them. The sight of them brought her such great joy she wanted to cry.

‘And one more thing. I was told to be incredibly careful with this,’ she said, smiling and reaching into her satchel. She withdrew a small box and an ornate letter on quality parchment. ‘Have a wonderful day!’

‘Bye,’ she said to her retreating back, closing the door slowly behind her. With trembling hands, she opened the letter.

My love, I know I proposed in haste. I had to, in truth. I was so terrified it would all be a dream and I’d wake, and you’d be gone. Not that I don’t trust you, of course. It’s more that you are so beyond even my most audacious dreams that I cannot believe you’re real. I hope you like what I chose for you. White gold for your complexion of course, a diamond for the pure beauty of your soul and the endless love I hold for you, and, if you’ll forgive me a little vanity, amethysts for myself. I would say more here but those things are best said in vows. I hope you like the flowers. I’ll tell you why I chose them, but those things are best said running my fingers through your hair, murmured softly into your waiting ear. I wish I could see your face… not long now. Still, being apart from you is torture. Here’s to eternity. Gale.

‘Oh,’ said Tav, blinking back tears and kissing his name on the parchment. ‘Gale, I adore you.’ She reached for the box and gasped at its contents. The most perfect ring, just as he’d described. It twinkled on her finger like a piece of the astral plane. She curled up in her favourite chair and wept tears of joy, wishing she could hold him.

*

His second gift arrived a week later. Tav opened the door to a cheerful dwarven man holding a sturdy basket in his arms. ‘Hello ma’am,’ he said, eyes twinkling in delight. ‘I’ve a gift for you from Mr Gale Dekarios. He gave me express instructions to deliver his gift to you personally. It’s important it’s opened indoors, in a secure area, and away from any fine furnishings. Ahem. He hopes you enjoy your gift. Blessings, ma’am.’ He handed the basket over and off he went with a cheery wave. Frowning in puzzlement, Tav took it inside and set it down in the kitchen, gingerly lifting the lid. She gasped, astonished. Inside, fast asleep, was a tiny, winged kitten, silver and grey. It had a small, jeweled collar and a letter tucked beneath one dainty paw.

My love, Tara has been my stalwart companion for most of my life. She saved it, in fact, more than once. I cherish her utterly, and I want you to have the same unwavering support when I can’t be there for you. I hope that is a rare occurrence, since if it were not, I fear it would drive me mad to be apart from you for long. Still… this is Calliope. Admittedly she’s only a baby, but I want you to have as much bonding with her as possible. She’ll speak in time. May she be a   comfort to you when I cannot be. Forgive my presumption, I put your name down as Dekarios. Selfishly, it brought me such joy to do so that I wept. Be here. Would that time would speed up, just a little, so I could hold you in my arms. Gale.

The kitten stirred in her basket, stretched and mewed softly. Delicately, Tav drew her into her arms. ‘Hello, Calliope,’ she said, kissing her fuzzy little head. ‘I hope you love your dad as much as I do.’ She stroked her soft wings, cooing to her as she showed her the house. Calliope blinked her golden eyes slowly and pushed her head into Tav’s palm, purring. ‘He knows exactly how to make me feel like the most special woman in the world, doesn’t he? Hmm?’ Calliope meowed in agreement, climbing up onto her shoulder and settling around her neck, like she'd always been there.

*

Tav was in Waterdeep, finally. It was the night before the wedding, and she stared at the ceiling in Morena’s spare room, her heart like a hummingbird’s wings in her chest. Calliope had tucked her face into the crook of her neck but did not sleep, sensing her excitement. The wedding dress hung on the back of the door, a confection of seed pearls and silk perfect for the summer heat. Tiny flowers cascaded off the shoulders in a froth of lace, putting her in mind of seafoam. She knew Gale was in his tower feeling exactly the same, and drifted off to sleep with his face in her mind, the first time he told her he loved her all that time ago.

The day dawned bright and cloudless. It was a flurry of activity the moment she woke: Morena had called Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach and Astarion to her home early to help Tav dress and prepare themselves.

‘I hope you’re ready, darling,’ said Astarion, kissing her on the cheek.

‘What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in Gale’s party.’

‘Oh please,’ he purred. ‘You know I love you more.’ He chucked her under the chin and winked. ‘You ought to know, I made that delicious dress for you. It pains me to know it’s just going to end up in pieces on the fl-’

‘Alright Fangs, that’s enough,’ said Karlach, clapping a hand over his mouth. ‘You’re making the bride blush and only one man gets to do that today.’

‘Chk,’ admonished Lae’zel. ‘Both of you are children.’

‘For once we agree on something, Lae’zel. It must be a special day indeed,’ replied Shadowheart. ‘C’mon Tav. Makeup first.’

‘If you get even the faintest smidge of makeup on that dress,’ began Astarion dangerously, ‘I will drain you dry, love. So be careful.’ Shadowheart shot him a quelling look and set to work. When Calliope leapt into Tav’s lap, Astarion came to the rescue. ‘Ah-ah, little one,’ he said, scooping her up. ‘Mummy’s making herself extra beautiful, alright?’ He held the kitten in his arms, looking for all the realms like a doting uncle.

‘I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, angel,’ said Morena when she came to check everything was alright a little later, ‘I think Gale may just die when he sees you.’

Lae’zel and Karlach helped Tav into her dress, Astarion hovering anxiously as they did so. Finally, he slid pearl encrusted slippers onto her feet. ‘I think she’s ready,’ said Karlach, beaming.

Her friends were dressed in assorted colours themselves: Shadowheart in midnight blue, Lae’zel in maroon, Karlach in cyan and Astarion in emerald green. Morena wore deep purple.

‘A couple finishing touches,’ said Morena, fastening a pair of diamond studs in Tav’s ears. ‘I wore these on my own wedding day. And these-’ she handed her a massive bouquet of blue irises. ‘Ready?’

‘I am,’ she said.

The wedding party converged on the tower; Tav was hidden from Gale with the aid of a strong invisibility spell, spirited away while everyone took their places, Astarion taking her by the arm. ‘Are you sure you want me to do this for you?’ he murmured softly.

‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘You’ve become very special to me.’ He smiled, and she could’ve sworn unshed tears sparkled in his eyes.

‘Alright darling.’ He lifted the invisibility spell and threw open the great oak doors before her. She stared; Gale had never mentioned a ballroom in his tower before. It was festooned with what could only be the work of all the florists in Waterdeep, the same flowers Gale had sent her with her engagement ring. The natural magic of the space swirled around them in colourful motes, sparkling and beautiful. At the far end of the room, Wyll and Minsc were speaking quietly with Gale, Jaheira and Halsin murmuring quietly with Morena, who held Calliope in her lap. Astarion squeezed Tav’s arm as music struck up from nowhere, piano and violin and harp. She recognised this. It was the music Gale had played for her in their vision, all that time ago.

Astarion walked Tav down the aisle, his presence calming and steady. She knew he was proud of her, and she would’ve wanted no-one else to give her away. As she approached, Gale beamed, his eyes wide and soft. He took her hands as Astarion took his place beside Wyll and kissed them, unable to stop himself.

‘Hello,’ he murmured.

‘Hello,’ she whispered back, grinning.

‘Beloved, we are gathered,’ said the wood elf priestess, ���to witness the joining of two souls in eternal love. They will speak their vows to one another, and ritual will be sealed in the ancient magics of Realmspace.’ She gestured to Gale. ‘Mr Dekarios, if you would.’

He cleared his throat, cheeks going a little pink. ‘Tav. I believe you are one half of my soul. I will protect you until my last breath, and then I’ll walk out of the fugue plane to do so again. You are sacred to me in a way I’ve never experienced before, you helped me see life for all its beauty and wonder and worth. I would die for you if fate willed it, but I swear to you I will live for you instead. I adore you. You’re more to me than anything in all the realms, including magic. If I lost it all tomorrow, I’d be content, because you are utterly irreplacable. I love you. Gods, I love you.’

Tav felt tears sliding down her cheeks, giggled when Gale brushed them away gently with his thumbs. Taking a breath, she responded, ‘Gale. You are the most special man I’ve ever known, magic or not. I’ve never known someone so generous, so open and kind and wonderful. You saved me as well. I was so lonely. So lost. And you took my hand and led me out of the dark into your world of beauty and wonder. Wherever you are is consecrated ground. I will cherish you forever. I love you.’

Dimly aware that everyone around her was weeping into their hands, Tav could only just hear the priestess telling Gale to kiss her; he drew her to him by the waist and kissed her with such tenderness it made her feel faint. Only when they needed to breathe did he pull away, pure adoration on his face. He pressed his forehead to hers as their friends and family cheered, and she felt at home- with her husband- for the first time in her life.

[citrusbatsandhoneybees]

-The Fading Star-

-Part One-

Part 1 Part 2

Haha! I've never done this before, but I've been so obsessed with Hazbin Hotel (especially Lucifer) ever since it came out. Everything everyone makes is so inspiring, so I figured I'd try to make something myself. Take it easy on me please! <3 Also if it wasn't clear this is purely self-indulgent, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Anyways..

Lucifer Morningstar X Female Self Insert

Content Warnings: Mentions of blood, injury, angst, brief mention of cannibalism, and angst (I think that's it? Let me know if I missed anything)

Quick Synopsis: Tsuki was made to keep Lilith company during her marriage with Adam, but finds herself unwillingly, falling in love with a certain archangel. Then after many millennia the reader, Tsuki, reunites with Lucifer.

Golden lights flicker around an angel as she flies through a portal, and is instantly hit with the smell of sulfur, floating ash and blood. The sound of guttural screams fills her ears, as she flies herself closer to the bottom of the hill that the hotel once laid atop of. With a roll of her shoulders, her wings retract into her back, and her halo fades away with small glitters that fell from the place it once was. While walking up the hill, she assesses her surroundings. She finds pale skinned sinners adorned in vintage clothing and stains of shimmering golds and deep crimsons. Wanting to gag, she watches them shred her fellow angel’s bodies with only their teeth and claws but continues her pace up the hill and toward the hotel. Dread starts to travel through her as she thinks to herself. Shit am I too late? Before the angel could rush towards the broken-down hotel, she stopped in her tracks feeling a familiar sting thumping against her chest. Looking around the view of the rubble, she spots a hunched over figure hobbling away from the current scene. Naturally her hand reaches out toward the scarlet form, and small violet sparks spawn a small circle, and the shape expands big enough for her to step through. 

Alastor lets out a deep, guttural groan as he lays back against some rubble. He kept his hand across the deep cut that was ripped into his chest, placing pressure against it to stop anymore blood from pouring out the wound, but to no avail. He feels sweat run past his brow, as he allows a sick laugh through his lips and places the back of his other hand across his closed eyelids. This blocks out the flickering red light that stood above him. The radio demon tries to focus on riding out the pain but is quickly interrupted by the sounds of a low hum accompanied by sparks fizzling in the air. Alastor’s ears twitch back as he quickly grasps his wound a little harder; on guard, he glares down a portal that forms only a few feet away from him. 

As the angel walks through the portal, she moves her hands forward, and keeps her eyes on the sinner in front of her. She attempted to make him feel safe with a soft smile as she walked closer to the deer-like demon. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay! I-”

The atmosphere turned frigid, as she was interrupted by the growing sounds of a radio crackling and hissing. Large shadowy tendrils rose around him ready to strike, and although Alastor’s wicked smile remained, his eyes told a different story.

“I advise you not to come any closer, I wouldn’t normally hurt a dame such as yourself; however, I won’t hesitate if necessary.” 

As he adjusts himself against the rubble behind him, a groan accompanies his words and his eyes squint ever so slightly. 

The angel raised her hands in defense, as she continued to walk slowly closer to him. Her eyes were soft as she examined his injury as much as she could from the distance she was at. 

“I am only here to help, I know what I’m doing, you can trust me.” 

Alastor allowed her to walk closer, watching every single movement she made, but to her surprise, as she knelt down in front of him, the dark tentacles dissipated around the two. He continued a watchful gaze on her, seeing her slowly raise a hand over his chest. 

“Are you okay with me healing you?”

The angel stares intently into his eyes, keeping a gentle expression. His eyes squinted a little, looking over her face for any trickery behind it. 

“Strange question dear, but yes if you are willing.”

She nods in response and a quick flourish of violets and sparkling particles erupt from her palm. She stayed focused as the injury was quickly sealed and stitched together with a magical winding string that flowed from her palm, leaving nothing but a small purple line across his chest where the cut once was. Her eyes return back to the deer’s, giving him a small smile. His own return to hers after grasping his chest, feeling no pain where the gash once was. He eyes her up and down, his smile never wavering. She thinks to herself watching his actions. What a strange one… 

“Now, let me help clean you up.” 

She referred to the state of clothing and skin; they were now crusted with the evidence of his gash. She was about to form a cleaning supplies and clothing before Alastor interrupted her thoughts. 

“No need my dear, I believe I can handle that!” 

She narrowed her eyes while watching him quickly stand up and shadows encapsulate him for a moment but release him to reveal that his suit was reverted back to the way they once were. Alastor bends forward, offering his hand to her, and she takes his offer of help up. 

“You have my gratitude Dear, is there anything that I could do for you?”

His tone had an underlying sense of interrogation, as he watched her closely. The angel raised her hands and shook her head with a smile. 

“I don’t need anything, really! Glad I could help, but I should really go now.” 

Her eyes glanced around her, looking towards where the hotel once was, but replacing it, there are now walls with scaffolding wrapped around it. Jeez that was fast. She was about to head towards the structure, until the cold touch of claws fell to her shoulders. 

“Nonsense! There has to be something that I could do!"

She shudders from the sudden touch, and turns around to face him. 

“If you insist, do you know Miss Charlie Morningstar? I need to speak to her.” 

His smile widens hearing her question.

“How interesting, I was curious as to why you were over here. Either way I would be happy to introduce you!”

Shadows suddenly encapsulate the two of them. Shivers run through the angel’s back, as she feels the ground pull out from underneath her. However, the falling feeling only lasts a few seconds before she arrives in front of the hotel that was very close to being finished. She admires the new building from afar as golden flashes of magic flourish and create things inside and around it. Her heart stutters at the sight, feeling the growing pit in her stomach, she turns to look for the red-haired demon, only to be faced with no one there. Allowing her eyes to close, she lets out a long sigh as she places two hands onto the back of her neck, rolling out the stress that had formed there. After she hears the crack, she drops her arms to her sides and starts to trek towards the hotel.

On the way there, the sounds of a hopeful song blessed her ears, but she continued her pace and watched as the hotel finished. The new building was massive, truly a sight to behold.  The angel stared in awe. A large array of light fixtures covered it: golden bulbs, neon lights, and several signs pointing to the entrance. Windows lined the sides of the building and along with the towers that were placed towards the front of the building. One of the towers was decorated with a simple apple themed level on the top with the other being a sharper and darker level adorned with antennas similar to antlers. The last thing the angel looked at before she arrived at the front of the new Hazbin Hotel was the large key structure that seemed to be staring down at her. She winced and wanted to shrink underneath the stare but shook it off, looking towards the grand doors of the hotel. 

Alastor and the rest of the group had just walked into their new home, walking up to the bar to celebrate their victory before a knock had sounded at the door. Everyone was suddenly on their guard from the intruding sound with Lucifer being the first to start walking towards the front doors. He wasn’t going to allow something bad happen to his daughter’s hotel. The rest of the group had kept up a few steps behind him, but before Lucifer could step up to the door, he was quickly interrupted with Alastor slipping out of his shadows, to place his hand on the knob and pull it open. 

The angel was about to knock again before the door was pulled open in front of her to be faced with the tall demon once again.

 “Oh there yo-” 

The radio demon interrupted her by walking to her side, leaning forward, and placing an arm around her shoulders to pull her forward. She was quickly pulled along to face Charlie, Vaggie, and the rest of the sinners. The angel was prepared to give them her best smile, greet them, and make the best first impression she could, but this was all quickly put to a halt as she noticed the being in front of them all:

Lucifer.

“I have someone to introduce to you all! This is.. Oh I’m sorry my dear; I don’t believe I ever got your name!”

Alastor turned to look down at her to only see that her face had drained of color, and her eyes were fixated on the fallen angel in front of her. He turned his head to follow her line of sight towards Lucifer; his eyes examined him, and his smirk grew when he saw Lucifer staring at her too. 

His presence caused panic to wash over her, as her breath broke into shaky, short ones. Any sounds that the rest of the group made was drowned out by the loud ringing that sounded in her ears. She froze in this position as time seemed to stand still. Her brain and heart were filled with harsh, overwhelming, conflicting feelings; they were screaming at her to run away or towards him, but her thoughts were interrupted from the voice that her heart longed for. 

“Tsuki?”

[gigglinggoblin]

Pixilated

(featuring art from SleepyGayCutie!) [Twitter / itch.io]

[Except from a Patreon short!]

“Eve.” Quaile smiled shyly. “That's a... pretty name.” A pretty name for a pretty little fairy. The widow felt relief rushing through her. Thank goodness it wasn't some kind of monster. She'd never met a fairy before, but she knew they could be good and kind as long as you treated them with respect and didn't give your real name. Eve was the first non-terrifying thing she'd encountered since she'd entered the Silicon Forest. “I, um... I’m awfully sorry to intrude into your beautiful garden, but I was wondering if I could pick something from the base of that...”

She trailed off. Eve kept flitting to and fro with excitement, her wings a fast-fluttering blur, and that golden fairy dust was scattering all around Eve like a glittering halo. It was really pretty, but also somewhat… distracting.

“Hm? From my what?” Eve batted thick, dark eyelashes. “From our garden, you mean?” She giggled, dancing from side to side, her hips swinging with a distinct mischief.

Quaile was trying to be polite. She knew eye contact was respectful, but she’d never been very good at it, and the rhythmic sway of those hips felt like an… easy anchor. She knew she shouldn’t. It made her seem strange, it made no sense, women weren’t even supposed to look at other…

“O-Our?” she blurted.

Eve’s form seemed to almost blur for a moment. A brief bout of static crackled in Quaile’s ear.

“Oh, hiiii~!” another voice chimed, and a second fairy, this one with brilliant red hair, flew out from behind her. Her fairy dust was more of a rose gold hue. Like Eve’s, though, it was strangely hard to focus on. “My name's GenESI! But you can call me Jenny!” She flitted up and planted another kiss on Quaile's cheek, then giggled, bouncing up and down in midair. “Wow, your cheeks are so red!”

“I know!” Eve lamented, making a show of fanning herself. The pair swirled around Quaile's head. Quaile was trying to keep moving forward towards the flowers, but she felt like she had to keep spinning to keep them both in view, and it was starting to make her dizzy. Her advance was stumbling and unsteady. “Mortals are suuuuch fun! Always so cute and bashful!” She smirked at Quaile, flying up to whisper in her ear, “But this one's especially precious.” Her body seemed to crackle. Suddenly, she was much, much closer. “And cute, too.”

Quaile felt her cheeks burning. For some reason, their praise made her feel all... bubbly inside, but she didn't know why. They were very pretty, obviously, with gorgeous sparkling hair and curvy little figures and those enchanting green eyes, but… but why would that matter to her?

She took another step towards the birdbath, finally giving up on keeping them both in sight. It was too hard to focus on them, anyways. Their forms were so... blurry at the edges. No, not blurry. Blocky? It was so strange, and she didn't have time for this. “I-I need,” she said slowly, “to pick a few of those suncup flowers. If... if that's quite alright with you two, Eve and Jenny.”

The fairies both halted their flight and pouted.

“Oh, she's so businesslike,” Jenny muttered.

“So formal,” Eve agreed. A frown crossed her exaggerated perfect features.

Quaile's heart sank. She licked her lips. “I'm sorry if I'm being—I'm sorry to be rude. I don’t mean to be, I just… I only wish to help my village. My—my husband, he was much better at talking to people, but—but I didn’t mean any harm.”

The two fairies exchanged looks, then smiled at her. They flew up to alight upon her, one on each shoulder, leaving winding trails of pink-and-gold fairy dust sparkling before her eyes.

“There's no offense, Ailah,” Jenny cooed in her ear.

“Poor, shy lass!” whispered Eve. “Your husband left you? And you such a pretty thing!”

“H-He's, um, passed, actually.” Quaile squirmed a little and forced herself to keep walking. “Two years ago, he—”

She only registered too late that her path had taken her straight through the cloud of blurry, blocky fairy dust the fairies had just created, and she sputtered and sneezed as the sparkling mist enveloped her. Her whole head buzzed and thrummed like static. She swayed.

“Oops!” Eve giggled. “Poor, clumsy girl! You've gone and gOtTTtttEeEeEeEn…” Her voice seemed to warp and bend, discordant notes and strange staticky crackles briefly overwhelming Quaile’s senses.

The glitching passed. And when it did, Quaile found that Eve’s voice sounded different. It sounded… clearer. Like Eve had been speaking into a tin can until this very moment. “... yourself all up and pixilated! You silly thing, not watching where you’re going!”

“W-Wha—”

“And you poor thing,” Jenny whispered, planting another little fluttering kiss on Quaile's cheek, and her voice sounded clearer, too. “You've been through sooo much! You're lucky you ran into us.”

They both fluttered back, beaming at her. Quaile kept walking forward, dizzied, dazed. She couldn't fully remember why she'd been walking in this direction. It must have been to keep looking at Eve and Jenny, mustn't it? They were so... so pretty, with their big, smug smiles and their beautiful shimmering eyes and the pretty glittery blurry staticky fog that surrounded them… surrounded her…

“Yes, yes, yes,” Eve sang, flying in slow, lazy golden corkscrew spirals. “We make everything so much simpler, don't we?”

“S... Simpler.” Quaile had meant it as a question, but everything felt so silly and blurry and foggy, it didn't sound like one, did it?

“That's right!” Jenny flew right up close until she held Quaile's full, helpless attention. “You want everything nice and simple with us, don't you? That’s what pixilation is all about, you know. Making things simpler!”

“I... the, the, um...” Quaile's voice was failing her. Jenny was perched on her nose and smiling, and Quaile found herself smiling, too, a big, happy, simple smile, because everything felt so happy and simple when these two adorable ladies smiled at her and batted their thick, pretty lashes. “The suncups...”

She wasn't even sure what she was saying. Some part of her was tugging, nagging, tense and panicky, but it felt so small, the very smallest part of her, and she was already so very small herself...

“Of course,” Eve cooed, and the tension in Quaile's mind seemed to immediately unravel. “Of course. We'll take care of everything.”

“Oh.” Quaile giggled. “That's, um... good?”

Jenny smirked. “Of course it is~"

* * *

Very few in the Glowpebble Path know how to safely enter the Silicon Forest. Most empyreal charms are cheap knockoffs, and even the real ones don't do that much more than the odd energy pulse to dissuade the horrors in that place. What you have to know is that the scariest things in the Forest aren't the crackling electrical trees or mutated half-technological beasts. It's the things that look like fairies. Look, I don't need to tell you fairies are dangerous, but that's not a fairy you're looking at. Stay away from rogue AIs if you value your life, mind or dignity.

* * *

Thanks so much for reading! If you wanna read the full story, check out my Patreon! It's got the full version of the fic, plus a ton of other exclusives (like content polls) and early access to public chapters. I really appreciate everyone who supports me whatever way they can--I love getting to return to these flashfics, and there may be a sequel to this story going up there. SGC's art just kind of made me fall in love with Quaile, the poor dear. Definitely writing more subby milfs in the future.

[simstomaggie]

My First Lookbook

I've never made a proper lookbook before, but I might do a bit more in the future (although looking for the cc took me foreverrrrr). I made this one specifically to show off a bit of the modern cc I've made in the past, and especially cc that is going to come out in the future! So, in the list of the cc below, the crossed out things are coming soon!

Thanks to all the amazing cc creators! I hope I didn't miss anyone!

cc and details under the cut

Details: So Creamy Skin Overlay, Eyebrow Set No. 2, Wedding Makeup Kit, Comet Eyes all by @twisted-cat | Eyeliner by @simsinwinter (formerly pixelsimdreams) | Face Highlighter BH05 by @busra-tr | Cleavage Overlay Collection by @pralinesims

Everyday 1: Dakota Hair, Jessica Dress by me | basegame pantyhose | Wolfe Boots by @solistair | Saint Necklace @christopher067 | Anne's Engagement Ring by @glitterberrysims

Everyday 2: Dakota Hair, Audrey Dress by me | basegame pantyhose | Wolfe Boots by @solistair | Saint Necklace @christopher067 | Anne's Engagement Ring by @glitterberrysims

Everyday 3: Dakota Hair by me | Cardigan from Incheon Arrival Add-Ons by @its-adrienpastel | High-waist Jeans by @miikocc | Bow Snow Boots by @jius-sims | Saint Necklace @christopher067 | Anne's Engagement Ring by @glitterberrysims

Formal 1: Dakota Hair, Desiree Dress by me | Louboutin Bianca Heels by @dallasgirl79 (these are at least similar; i'm not sure if they are exact!) | Bushel Necklace by @christopher067 | Anne's Engagement Ring by @glitterberrysims

Athletic: Quinn Hair 2 by me | Ashley Top by @sentate | Sweatpants and Sneakers from First Fits Kit Adult Conversion Pt. II by @its-adrienpastel

Sleepwear: Dakota Hair, Heidi Lingerie Set by me

Party 1: Leighton Hair, Wilma Dress by me | Earrings (I cannot find someone to credit; should that change I'll add it later) | Bowknot Heel Pumps 01 by @jius-sims | Luxe Pearl Necklace by @christopher067

Swimwear: Unnamed Swimsuit, Rómenya Hair by me | Moisturizing Cream (Face Glow Overlay) by Saggitariah | Pearlescent Earrings by @christopher067

Hot Weather 1: Hat from Cottage Living | Rebecca Hair, Mia Dress by me | Leather Sandals 10 by @jius-sims | Rose Gold Plated Heart Necklace, Halo Diamond Engagement Ring by @glitterberrysims | Delta Earrings Piercings by @pralinesims

Hot Weather 2: Hat from Cottage Living | Rebecca Hair, Celia Dress by me | Leather Sandals 10 by @jius-sims | Rose Gold Plated Heart Necklace, Halo Diamond Engagement Ring by @glitterberrysims | Delta Earrings Piercings by @pralinesims

Cold Weather 1: Dakota Hair, Asfaloth Dress by me | Snowdrop Scarves by @nolan-sims | basegame beanie, gloves and pantyhose | boots from Nifty Knitting | Francessa Ruby Pearl Ring by @glitterberrysims

Cold Weather 2: Dakota Hair, Grace Dress by me | Mrand Boots by Dissia | basegame pantyhose | Anne Necklace and Francessa Ruby Pearl Ring by @glitterberrysims

[plutobutartsy]

demon nun x angel club owner <3 they hate their jobs but both agree it's better than retail

ID under cut!

[ID:

Image 1:

A digital drawing of two women.

The first one is thin and tall with sandy skin and some scales here and there. She has thin eyebrows that are arched in a wave-like way, similar to a mime. Her eyes are yellow and snake-like with overly long eyelashes. There is a mole above the right corner of her lip. She is wearing a black and white nun's habit with gold accents and a peaked veil. From her belt hangs a black rosary with a downturned cross and a red gem in the middle. She is holding a rose to her nose while looking up through hooded eyelids.

The second woman is significantly shorter than the first, with dark brown skin and a chubby, yet muscular build. She has round, downturned eyes with grey irises and blond lashes. She wears her blonde hair in a big afro reminiscent of a halo. Her expression is neutral. She is wearing a long grey coat with white fur at the collar (supposed to mimic wings), a light blue crop top that exposes her belly button and happy trail and grey, wide legged pants with pin stripes. You can catch a glimpse of her light blue thong straps sitting anove said pants. Additionally, she is wearing silver hoop earrings, silver rings (one of which is adorned by a blue gem), a big silver cross necklace and black, high-heeled boots. She is also smoking a cigar.

Image 2:

A digital sketch of the same two characters as before. The taller woman (demon) is sitting with her back turned mostly towards the viewer and her face buried in the shorter woman's (angel) chest, who she is hugging tightly. The angel is sitting on the demon's lap and gently stroking her back and hair. Her eyes are closed and she is wearing an indulgent smile.

The angel is wearing a tight fitting shirt, small shorts and big socks, as well as a bonnet on her head. The demon is wearing a looser fitting shirt that exposes more of the scales on her arm and a pair of sweat pants. Without her nun's veil you can see her long, black hair and her straight horns.

There are two speech bubbles;

demon: *sob* it's like, humans don't even appreciate all the work i put into corrupting their morals!

angel: there, there

End ID]

[between-the-realms]

@the-mysticandmodern-world

It was supposed to be an easy hit, or at least that's what Captain Rose was led to believe. After the fight with the banished and not getting much in the raid to begin with, their ship took a massive hit. The group was forced to crash land against one of the halos.

Luckily, most of their crew survived the landing, but now they were stuck and not in a position to leave this place. Rose was the first to rise once again, king her head. The woman had a strong build to her. She had long dark pink hair, with pink skin, and her race's ears were a little long with a fluff to them. Their group were pirate's, and she definitely looked the part. She wore a gold necklace around her neck, where the medallion on it looked like a rose.

Her brother, Crystal, would be the next one up. His skin was a bluish color, but he had long black hair that he currently had pulled back. He wore a silver necklace, either a small blue crystal on it. Everyone in the crew would have some sort of necklace on with a different type of medallion hanging from it.

[akatsukiky]

Concept thing for Pass!Phil being Q!Phil.

Spoilers for the fanfiction Passerine below.

The sky shatters before him, wreathed as he is in the false starshine halo of dual godhood. It clings to his feathers, shimmers on his eyelashes, and vanishes all at once as the earth welcomes him with naught but a brutal kiss.

This is not his son. Wilbur- *this* Wilbur- does not permeate vindication, regret, and the brooding wrath of a boy-king who has lost too much. Phil cradles him still, kisses promises against his hair that he won’t leave him again- not now, not ever.

Wilbur leaves instead.

He sees in Chayanne the rounded rose-kissed cheeks he had watched death’s pallor lay cold claim to- the gold spun curls he had seen lose luster. His boy, his littlest boy, *Tommy*.

Phil resolves not a moment later that he will not lose his son ever again.

Missa exists of a haunting familiar chill of death and all the cozy warmth in his eyes as an open hearth. Kristin was the same too, once.

He ignores the trill of his heart, the immortal yearning, and holds him at arms’ length still.

It is impossible not to see Technoblade in Etoiles. There is a formidable, ancient sense to how he cleaves and parries and holds himself, chin up and tone dry; like the very same god whispers glorious things of carnage in his ears and guides his hands. When Phil looks, there are no carmine wisp eyes in Etoiles’ wake, only cosmos and nebulas and stars in happy revolution about him.

Phil refuses to lose him- allow him to sacrifice himself (for there will be nothing to sacrifice for)- all the same.

Fit knows him.

Chaos spins about him, ash and decay and the familiar bleakness of that wasteland opens wisdom-aged chasms in his gaze. And he knows. He doesn’t explain how, and Phil doesn’t ask him to.

He knows, and Phil weeps.

[hazeltailofficial]

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[valentinahogdahlholm]

The violent breaths of a profane soul//En profan själs våldsamma andetag:

I was too good to be true until I became true, Too perfect until I became human. And the light of holiness becomes profane, Scrubbed knees and vertebrae of steel. How should I say it another way? When the light of holiness goes out, what am I then? If only human? Promised paradise, the entire sky of stars,

A lie melting steel, Back, voice, words. Muse risen form the stanzas of poets and Appollo's hands, These words to make sense of it.

Lost in silenced prayers and ending psalms. Worshipped voice whose words fall on deaf ears, Fall from god's grace, Icon to golden calf. Mirrored in cracked stone tablets.

Because you cannot believe in burning blood, warm skin, beating hearts. Only worshipped fiction mirroring you in the metal of the halo, But underneath it all I was human. Liberated by salt tears, Lost promises of the crown of heaven. Freed air you tried to drink,

To call poisoned when the holy oxygen met the spring air. Instead of blessing lungs with prayers you spoke on my lips to dring, Gold of your lungs, Worship their purity. Which I banished with a violent breath collected underneath golden skin, Liberated by tears and the path of blood. Mixed with floods, Lakes free from guardian dogs and the eyes of doe.

Kissed feet echo further and further away, Kissed forehead turns upward And worshipped eyes fall on red roses and the path of the moon across the nigh sky.

Holy breathing declares false prophet of young blonde god, Whose voice, damned and echoing through the church, Torn down monuments, altars and icons. But still worshipping the angel, saint, godess they portray. Without seeing the scarred forehead. Only the muse risen from Apollo's fingers' dance over the lyre, Song from his lips. Oracle declaring the fate of our hero, Martyr to Messiah in a golden crown, Golden halo alone on her forehead, Blind for blood and pain, Eyes fixed on the holy light, open arms, blue shroud which will soon turn red from her bleeding humanity. And the name is erased from holy writings, Paintings covered in white sheets. Images covered with paint on churches' walls,

Thickening with layers and soon thicker again, When the halo crowns blonde curls once again, Making gold of your image in the mirror, Hers you swear. While lungs are filled by your prayers, To become madonna, angel, godess.

While I am condemned to rot, Not a single rose on my grave. As empty handed as before promises of celestial beauty in my hands, Condemned greed.

You sought holy blue light, And found the red dust of humanity, You sought a holy mythological image And found the profane existence of the soul. You sought a saint, a godess, an angel And found a human. You are dissapointed.

//

Jag var för bra för att vara sann tills jag blev verklig,

För perfekt tills jag blev mänsklig

Och helighetens ljus byttes mot profanitet,

Skrubbade knän och kotor av stål.

Hur ska jag uttrycka det på annat sätt än dessa ord? När det heliga ljuset släcks, och vad är jag då.

Om bara mänsklig? Lovad paradiset, natthimmelens alla stjärnor,

En lögn som smälter stål,

Rygg, stämma, ord.

Musa frammanad av poetens strofer och Apollos händer,

Dessa ord för att begripliggöra det.

Förlorad i tystade böner och utklingade psalmer.

Dyrkad stämma vars ord faller på döva öron,

Syndafall,

Ikon till gyllene kalv

Speglad i spräckta stentavlor.

För du kan inte tro på brinnande blod, varm hud, slående hjärtan,

Utan endast helgade fiktioner som speglar dig i glorians metall,

Men jag förblev människa när huden förgylldes.

Frigjord av salta tårar,

Förlorade löften om himmelrikets krona.

Frigjord luft du sökte supa,

För att kalla förgiftad när det heliga syret blandades ut med vårluften.

Istället för att välsigna dina lungor med bönerna du talat mot mina läppar för att supa in,

Förgylla dina lungor,

Dyrka dess renlärighet

Den jag förkastade med ett våldsamt andetag som samlats under den förgyllda huden,

Frigjordes med tårarnas och blodets bana ned,

Blandas med floder,

Källor fria från vaktande hundar och hjortars blängande ögon.

Kyssta fötter ekar längre och längre bort,

Kysst panna vänder sig uppåt

Och dyrkade ögon fäster sig på röda rosor och månens bana över natthimlen.

Helgade andetag förklarar falsk profet av ung blond gud,

Vars stämma, förkastanden, ekar genom kyrksalen,

River monument, altare och ikonbilder.

Men dyrkar ännu ängeln, helgonet, gudinnan de föreställer.

Utan att se den medföljande ärrade pannan,

Endast musan sprungen ur Apollos fingrars dans över lyran,

Sången från hans läppar.

Orakel som förtäljer vår hjältes öde,

Från martyr till Messias,

Iklädd guldbelagd törnekrona,

Endast krönt med gyllene gloria,

Blind för blodet och smärtan i blicken,

Ögonen fästa på det heliga skenet, öppna händer, blå skrud som snart blir röd av hennes blödande, flödande mänsklighet.

Och namnet suddas från heliga skrifter,

Målningar täckta med vita lakan,

Bilder täckta med spackel på kyrkoväggar,

Som tjocknar med lagren, och snart blir tjockare igen,

När glorian kröner blonda lockar åter en gång,

Förgyller din spegelbild.

Hennes spegelbild lovar du.

Medan hennes lungor fylls av dina böner,

För att bli madonna, ängel, gudinna.

Medan jag är fördömd att ruttna,

Inte ens en ros på min grav.

Lika tomhänt som innan löften om himlavalvets skönhet i mina händer.

Förbannade girighet.

Du sökte heligt blått sken,

Och fann mänsklighetens röda damm,

Du sökte helgad mytologisk bild

Och fann den profana själens existens,

Du sökte ett helgon, en gudinna, en ängel

Och fann en människa.

Du är besviken.

[sixisnotaprettynumber]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁    𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 :

COLOR.       ——       red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal.  silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory.

ELEMENTAL.      ——        fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

BODY.       ——       claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

WEAPONRY.        ——       fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles.

MATERIAL.        ——        gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds.  amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

NATURE.       ——       grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

ANIMALS.       ——       lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. misc. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs.

FOOD & DRINK.      ——      sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

HOBBIES.       ——        music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self - defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesizers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

STYLE.       ——       lingerie. armor. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. legging. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar.

MISC.       ——        balloons. bubbles. cityscape. landscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirror. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. embracing. [[Tagging: Anyone who is interested]]

[marblecarved]

your muse’s aesthetics.

bold what applies to your muse and italicize what sometimes applies to them. please repost, don’t reblog !

colour: red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory.

elements: fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

body: claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

weaponry: fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow and arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles.

material: bronze. gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

nature: grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

animals: lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. misc. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs.

foods and drinks: sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

hobbies: music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self - defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesizers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

style: lingerie. armor. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. legging. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar.

misc. balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

tagging: you ! if you see this on your dash and you would like to do it for your muse, feel free to steal this !