Look How Cute He Looks

I'm not crying! You're crying!

"My Baby"

Silver & Lilia Animatic

Song: No More Birthday

so who are you?

Awww! So frickin cute!😍

🦇 First drawing of the year! A late bday for Lilia, maldito viejo sabroso. (I want to do the same thing I did last year as my goal this year, and that is that I am going to make one drawing a week. Wish me luck!)

Dinner w stolas

Hands have always been special to Lilia. It told hidden tales for those who cared to look.

And those who did? Were ones to hold in special regard.

Lilia held tiny clawed hands freshly born from an egg, hatched through great journey and love, with time they grew to one which will one day hold a kingdom within its grasp.

Lilia held small human hands, bundle taken from a dusted cradle filled with love, hands which grew to carry a sword and peace as a future knight.

Lilia guided hands born from two different races, the owner loud, but the hands swift and true speaking of value and valor as a future knight.

Lilia’s own hands spoke of hundreds years of history. Spoke of tales he sought to hide.

Your hands too spoke of your journey. Your journey of one not from this world, but one that brought companionship and joy to those around you.

Your hands spoke of truths which few took the time to see.

It spoke of empathy in its gentle touches yet fire when used in ire against others.

It spoke of cuts from endless nights of studying when pages never ended.

It spoke of scratches and older scars from battles you never should have taken part in but were forced to, of wounds from acquaintances turned foe to later friends.

It spoke of callouses from hardened labor at and around campus.

To Lilia, it brought him peace as it combed through his hair on nights where he laid his head on your lap.

To Lilia, it spoke of stubbornness or indignation when it bopped him on the head for his antics or something he said

These hands are a reflection of you. Hands he would worship every chance he got. Kisses softly trailing from nails to palm to wrist. Your heart beat loud and strong.

These hands match his, palm to palm.

Soon too, will both adorn a matching ring.

A promise to be made.

Together in this life and the next.

Lilia Vanrouge: Light of my Life

Exposed LEGS??? 😡 In the middle of WINTER?????? Cover up, slut/j (His dragon claw slippers and big bow headband are so cute though 😭)

Rise and Shine!

A beacon of light burst through darkness. The curtains hadn’t been fully closed last night, letting the sun steal in, bleeding heat into Lilia's man cave--and into his eyes. He shielded his gaze and squinted into the morning rays that crept around his arm and the cracks between his fingers.

The sun had come for him, whether he wanted it to or not.

“Nngh… So bright," Lilia muttered. He flopped onto his belly and hugged his pillow against himself as if it, too, was meant to protect him from that shining star. "Morning already? I must've blacked out after that intense gaming session."

Guess I'd better get ready.

Tucking and rolling, he expertly leapt out of bed and onto the floor. A covert maneuver, one learned in his days in the military. On the field, he'd conceal himself in a bush or amid the trees--but these days, his blanket sufficed, clinging to him like a cocoon.

The distinctly burrito-shaped Lilia stuck his feet into a pair of slippers-- garishly designed to resemble a dragon's claws. With a yawn, he shuffled down the hallway and entered the washroom.

Lilia glimpsed his reflection in several tall mirrors as he passed them. All that tossing and turning had tousled his hair like a salad, slashes of magenta running into raven streaks. He grinned, playfully running a single pale finger against his pouty mouth.

I truly am the cutest, most charming pretty boy in the whole world~

Thump, thump, thump.

His reflection was unmoving. Beyond the door, coming from the corridor he had entered from, came a flight of footsteps. Far away and faint, undetectable to most.

His pointed ears perked, his interest piqued. My, it sounds like someone else is up.

Lilia's lip curled, mischief sparking in him.

He scampered to one of the vanities at the end of the washroom and climbed onto it, snuggling neatly into the nook and out of sight. It was simple to do with the blanket draped over his petite frame. From a distance, he could easily be mistaken as a mirror covered by a cloth, like some ancient relic stored away in one's attic, yet to be unearthed.

Lilia laid in wait.

The footsteps continue, progressively growing louder and louder. Then came the door creaking open. Movement. A figure coming into view, unaware of the impending scare. Head turning, calling out to nothing.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

Now.

"BOO!!"

Lilia launched out with a ghoulish shriek, fangs bared and face contorted hideously, like a creature from a horror film. He extended his arms, throwing his blanket back. It billowed from his lightning-fast leap, a vampire's cape fluttering in the wind.

He pounced on the intruder--on you--tackling them to the floor.

You screamed, and it was music to him. Delight feathered in his chest.

What a fun reaction. They're almost as cute as I am!

"Gotcha~" Lilia poked the tip of your nose. You blinked up at him, still dazed from his loving glomp. "What brings you here to Diasomnia so early in the day, hmm? Did you perchance drop in to pay this adorable, fresh-faced lad a visit?"

"You caught me red-handed," you sighed in defeat. "I thought I could get the jump on you, but looks like my plans were foiled."

"Kufufu. You're still a few hundred years too green for that. Consider trying again in another century or two."

With a laugh, Lilia rose, helping you up as well. He looped his blanket around your back, swathing you like a child and pulled you close, your chests flush with one another's.

"There we are, up and at'm!" Lilia chirps, vigorously ruffling your head. It was left as messy as his was. "You came all this way to greet me, so I should return the favor by entertaining you while you're here."

"Y-You barely look ready yourself though," you pointed out.

"There's no reason why I can't do both! I'm an expert at multitasking!"

You stared at him, raising a brow doubtfully. For as long as you had known the fairy, Lilia had been nothing short of disorganized. The souvenirs scattered in his bedroom, the surprises he was so fond of. "Flying by the seat of his pants," as he called it. "I'll figure things out eventually... right?"

Lilia laughed softly. "I can tell by that look of yours that you don't believe me. I'll have to put all of my efforts into proving you wrong then~"

He shifted, and you moved with him, still cushioned by the blanket at your back, a sling which he controlled. An abrupt turn. You swung, Lilia did too--and you realized he was leading you in a dance.

"What does this have to do with you getting ready?" you wondered--but you didn't complain, not when your heart was fluttering like it had wings of its own.

"Why, I'm charging up for the day! It just so happens that you're my battery. If sunshine drains me, then you're the light that restores me."

"... Is that really how it works?" The question was slow and incredulous.

Lilia chuckled, sounding less like the youthful school boy before you and more like the wise sage that he was. "Cross my heart and hope to fly."

A Truth Universally Denied - CH. 2

Lucifer x F. Reader

When a struggling, reclusive, but wealthy single father calls upon the help of a governess to help tutor his coming-of-age but unruly daughter, one has no choice but to accept the most gracious invitation of employment. Especially if your new employer is the King of Hell. (aka if Hell, but if it was set similar to Victorian Era England, so like circa 1830 to 1900 A.D.)

“As I mentioned previously, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

Well, this was certainly a surprise. Not only was Y/N’s employer a wealthy recluse, but the wealthy, reclusive King of Hell. The ruler of the Underworld, who was once beloved and well-known, kept away after the tragic disappearance of his wife a year ago. Such a sorry state the family would be in, she thought after hearing the news, and after meeting Charlie, it was evident that there were familial damages. 

It was evident in her eyes the state of shock Y/N remained in, Alastor off in the corner with that self-satisfied upturn on his face. Of course, his letter neglected to mention any name or evidence of her new employer, a tactic she assumed was on purpose. A sly demon the red deer was, and while Y/N had not known him for long, she knew he would do anything for his own amusement. 

After fixing her expression and a quick clear of the throat, Y/N gave a small curtsey towards Lucifer. She could feel her eyes rake over her form, taking in every detail. The muted blue of her dress, the cracked lace embellished hem, and the burnt umber color of her boots. Simple, plain, ordinary. Something Lucifer felt the need to remedy, though he also found a strange comfort in. Surrounded by niceties every day, often, even the finest of things often become lackluster. Seeing something so contrary to his everyday was…nice for a change. He could not help his eyes from trailing the new governess as she took her seat right beside him.  

“Truly, the pleasure of this meeting is all mine, Your Highness. I am grateful for your offer of employment.” 

“Of course. I heard you were the best. Now please, sit—“

“Dad! Dad! Did you know Miss Y/N taught me a magic trick? Here, let me show you!” 

As if on cue, Charlie mustered all her power, eyes scrunched in deep concentration. A flickering gold light filtered from her hands, and with a puff of sparkle, a small daisy appeared in the small girl’s hand. Her excitement was nothing short of positively adorable, at least Y/N thought so. With a giddy smile and squeak, little Charlie presented the delicacy to her father, who took it with a gentle hand and grin. 

“Why, it’s beautiful, apple pie. Your new teacher seems to be starting early with her lessons–” 

Y/N’s face flushed a deep shade of rose at the compliment, though she quickly busied herself with her napkin, brushing it over her lap as if crumbs had gathered there, though not a single one had.

“Oh, well, it’s nothing really. A simple parlor trick I was happy to give the secret to.”

 Lucifer’s eyes scanned Y/N once more, his attention drawn to her near-mute comment. Noting her modesty with a passing thought of admiration, a rare trait these days, he nodded softly before returning to fawning over his daughter. Y/N remained reserved, though scrutinizing every moment between the pair. Both Charlie and Alastor had expressed…thoughts on Lucifer’s absence and its effects, yet here he seemed so loving. Was it all a charade, some false act put up to appease her before shrouding himself in mystery again? Whatever it was, she was wary.

The rest of dinner passed in elegant quietude, punctuated only by Charlie’s occasional chatter and the clinking of cutlery on fine china. The food was divine, unlike anything Y/N had ever tasted in her modest, mortal life. A medium-well duck stuffed with orange and rosemary, cutting through the otherwise gamey flavor with a chestnut sauce to accompany. Rich, garlic asparagus in a balsamic glaze, paired with a sparkling Harvey and Osborne sherry*. Each bite seemed tailored not only for the palate but for the soul, a richness that made her feel, somehow, unworthy. Even the water tasted like it had once been kissed by stars. Lest she forget about dessert, a three-layered chocolate cake delicacy that seemed only could have been made in Heaven when Y/N saw it was topped with a strawberry cream. 

As the plates were cleared and the last of the wine sipped, Charlie, drooping slightly in her seat, yawned behind one small, gloved hand. “I think someone’s ready for bed,” Y/N said gently, rising from her chair, placing her napkin folded on the seat, and offering the girl a hand. Charlie took it without protest, rubbing at her eyes. Lucifer gave a nod, a soft expression playing across his features.

“I’ll see you both in the morning,” he said, voice low and warm. It rolled like thunder in the distance, promising rain but not yet bringing it.

“But I don’t wanna–”

“Charlie, my dear, what do…um…ducks do when they are sleepy?”

“They snuggle!”

“Right, now, how about we snuggle upstairs like fluffy ducks, mhmm?”

Y/N guided Charlie up the stairs with a gentle hand, offering a knowing smile back to Lucifer, winding through the candlelit corridors until they reached the child’s chamber. It was grand but not cold, warmed by plush pillows and soft toys that looked lovingly worn. As Y/N previously noted, red apples and golden leaves decorated even the furnishings of this room and every other. A common theme, an obsession perhaps? Though she supposed it made logical sense for His Highness to refer to Charlie as ‘apple pie’ with the way the house was decorated. Charlie climbed into bed with a drowsy smile, a small red and black lamb stuffed animal tucked snugly in her arms, murmuring something incoherent. 

“Good night, sweet duckling,” Y/N whispered, brushing a strand of golden hair from the child’s forehead.

“Miss Y/N?” came the sleepy reply.

“Yes, dear?”

“How long are you going to stay?”

Y/N tucked the sheets around her with a soft chuckle.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

Y/N turned down the lamp, casting the room in shadows and warm gold. She lingered for a moment, watching the little girl’s chest rise and fall, peaceful, untouched by the grief that still seemed to cling to every inch of the manor. Then she closed the door softly behind her. The hall was quiet now, except for the occasional groan of the old wood underfoot. She made her way back toward her room, arms loosely folded across her front, her thoughts already drifting toward rest when—

“Oh! I–I’m sorry!” she gasped, nearly colliding with a tall, familiar figure rounding the corner.

Lucifer stood there, one hand lifting in mild surprise, the other tucked behind his back. His smile was calm, almost boyish, though something far older rested behind his eyes. “No harm done,” he said smoothly. “Though I imagine I startled you.”

She nodded, blinking. “Just a bit, Your Highness–”

“Lucifer will do,” he offered with a small tilt of his head.

There was a beat of silence, long enough for her to notice the faint scent that clung to him, like spice and cedar smoke, something deep and earthy. Rarely did Masters give permission of their given name; usually, the use was met with sharp reprimand. And yet, he was here, the literal King of Hell, allowing a governess to use his first name. A peculiar man, Y/n thought as she studied him further in her shock. The sharpness of his jaw, the carved elegance of his features. A dangerous thing to dwell on.

“Well… good night, L–Lucifer,” she managed, voice catching slightly.

“And to you, Miss Y/N,” he replied, his smile widening just enough to show the faintest glint of fangs. “Sleep well.”

She turned away, trying not to trip over herself in the effort to walk naturally. Her heart beat just a little too fast, though she wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or…

Click. A sudden, singular sound broke the hush. Her head snapped to the side.

From the other end of the hall, Alastor stepped into view as though peeled from the shadows themselves. The radio demon’s ever-fixed grin was in place, but there was no warmth in it, only that manic sharpness, like a blade made of teeth.

“My, my,” he drawled, voice curling through the air like smoke. “A midnight stroll with royalty, Miss Y/N? That’s rather bold of you.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he held up a hand.

“Let me spare you the effort. Don’t. Say. A word.” The cheer in his voice had gone brittle. “I do hope you’re not getting comfortable here. It’s a dangerous thing, darling, to cozy up to kings. Especially ones with hearts still rotting from grief.”

“I wasn’t—” she tried again, only for him to step closer.

“They all start with good intentions,” Alastor said, eyes glowing faintly red beneath his brim. “But everyone who gets close to Lucifer Morningstar ends up broken. Or worse.”

Y/N swallowed, unsure whether it was the words or the glint in his gaze that chilled her more.

He stepped back, his grin relaxing again into something faux-friendly. “Just a word of caution, dear. Good night now.”

With that, he disappeared, swallowed again by the shadows as easily as he'd emerged from them.

Her legs felt stiff as she walked the last few steps to her door. Once inside, she locked it, more out of instinct than fear. What did that skilamalink** of a man mean? Surely, it could not be so bad as to have a kind word or look towards the Master of the House. Of course, make no mistake, there would be no scandal. Lucifer could barely afford to even look at her that way, much less would he even be inclined to do so, plain as she was. 

The rain had begun to fall outside, a soft pattering against the tall, arched windows. Thunder rumbled far off, and in the silence of her room, it echoed and seemed to shake the very foundations of what seemed to be an immaculate manor. She undressed slowly, folding her clothes with care, trying not to let her mind spiral. A simple white nightgown seemed to match the embellishments of her housing, much to Y/N’s agreement, but just as she pulled the covers up and lay her head on the pillow, a noise reached her ears. Subtle, almost unnoticeable to anyone other than a skilled governess.

A soft creak from above. She froze, straining to listen. Did Charlie awaken and wander to the attic? Again, a sound. The faint groan of something shifting… something moving in the attic. Her heart thudded once, painfully. The one place she is forbidden to enter. But no further noise came. Only the rain, steady and indifferent, whispered across the roof like a warning.

A trick, a play of an old house on a vulnerable woman. Y/N let out a mild chuckle, eyes still shifting wearily around the confines of her room. As if the curtains might come to life and strangle her. The musings of a woman tired from travel and mingling, Y/n determined. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Tomorrow…tomorrow would make it all right. 

It was a drear and dismal evening in the city of Pride, the kind of night when the rain, in its persistent descent, seemed to gnaw at everything. Lucifer Morningstar sat alone in his study, a heavy glass of brandy cradled in one long, pale hand. Cast in white marble, adorned with dark, almost velvety oak floorboards and bearings decorated in gold leaves and feathers, and alabaster and maroon furnishing, it was a cavern of solitude for the weary ruler. The hearth crackled behind him, but he afforded it no glance; his gaze was fixed upon the long, arched window before him, and the vast city stretched below in an opulent sprawl of crimson light. It was his. All of it. Every tower forged from brimstone, every gas-lit avenue, every sound of revelry or agony that echoed through the infernal streets, his dominion, his rule. And yet…

What ailed him? What hollowness dared take root in the chest of the Morningstar? He could name it, of course—he was no stranger to truth, even when it stung like salt in a wound. Lilith. It had been a year since her absence. It was a scandal to be sure, the complete disappearance of her from Hell itself. A search party led on for about a month before it was called off and a single purple ribbon had been brought back to the manor as the sole evidence found. 

A year ought to suffice to forget, or at the very least to grow numb. And he had Charlie still, bright, foolish, impossibly earnest Charlie. But even she, in her stubbornness, could not quite drag him from the abyss of his own discontent. He had to do better. For her, if not for himself. Yet each day the manor grew colder, heavier, a mausoleum clad in marble and gold. He hadn’t even brought himself to remove the mourning curtains from every portrait of her in the house. There was barely a use for them anyhow, her gaze burned through the coverings into him. 

His thoughts turned then to the new governess, what was her name again? Ruth? No, that had been the last one. Mary? No, she had quit in tears. Perhaps… Y/N? Yes, that seemed near enough to the truth. He had barely spoken a word to her since her arrival, save for a few polite formalities at supper. She had smiled, genuinely, no less, and unlike her predecessors, had not once scolded Charlie for her peculiarities. That in itself was remarkable. Perhaps she would prove a balm to this household. A softness amidst the steel.

He even allowed her to use his rightful name, his given one! How absurd she must think he is breaking formal protocol. He had barely known her for two hours! Damned lonliness crept in his throat when he saw how she gazed at him in the dark, the candlelight doing her features some good. By no means was this new governess beautiful, he could outright admit that. But something was off, nothing wrong per se, but in the darkness, she almost looked like a dream. A woman out of a monumental still life***. 

But the stillness did not last. A sound, sharp, rhythmic. The tapping of clawed raptors upon the marble floor outside the study. Lucifer did not startle; he merely exhaled, slow and with growing irritation. He turned. The shadows by the hearth twisted, stretched, and from their centre, like a sinuous thread drawn through the eye of a needle, came Alastor. The man, if one might call such a creature that, stepped forth from the gloom with the unshakable grace of a stage actor making his final bow. His smile, a ghastly fixed thing, was already in place.

“Master,” he said, voice slick as oil, “a fine evening to drown one’s thoughts in rain and brandy, is it not?”

Lucifer did not answer at once. He sipped his drink, turned again to the window.

“You're early,” he said at last. “I summoned you for the morning.”

Alastor chuckled, a sound like bones dancing in a lacquered box. “And yet I found myself drawn here, compelled by curiosity, perhaps… or concern. The new governess?”

Lucifer’s lip curled slightly, but not in mirth. “There is. She seems… competent.”

Alastor’s grin widened—impossible though it seemed. “Competent? My, my. That is high praise, coming from you.”

“She’s kind to Charlie,” Lucifer said, more sharply. “That is what matters.”

“Of course,” Alastor drawled. He moved closer, the shadows whispering at his heels. “But tell me, do you not find it dangerous? To let someone new into the fold? Into her orbit?” He leaned closer, voice a shade quieter. “Into yours?”

Lucifer turned toward him then, eyes cold as the storm lashing the glass. “I am not so soft as to be threatened by a governess.”

“No,” Alastor replied, not backing away. “But even the softest things can wear through stone, given time.”

Lucifer did not answer. He turned back to the window, to the city that burned and shone beneath his feet, to the kingdom forged by will and wrath. And yet, as the thunder rumbled and the rain traced long trails down the glass, he felt the weight of Alastor’s words settle, bitter and steady, in his gut. Perhaps it was foolish, this hope he’d begun to nurture. This flicker of curiosity. People, in the end, always disappointed. Always betrayed. Still… she had smiled.

And perhaps, he thought, perhaps disappointment was a price worth paying for the illusion of warmth.

FOOTNOTES———————————————————————————

*Harry and Osborne = Harry and Osborne was a popular wine company in the 1890s **Skilamalink = Tricky or dishonest person ***Monumental Still Life = Typically, still lives focus on inanimate objects with no human focus, but monumental still lives or genre pieces are the exception.

My friends and I came up with a joke (otherwise I wouldn’t have crawled out of the cave and wouldn’t have drawn for another month)

Lilia running his fingers through your hair, whispering “it’ll be alright. Just rest for now.”

Gently massages your scalp, the motion gradually pulling you into a rest.