celestial house


Enjoy some Dark Mischevious Vibes!! 😈

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Death’s sweet embrace
Was once a gift I’d yearned for
But now that I have found you
I don’t need death
Not anymore

Come set me free
You’ll be okay
I’ll keep you safe
So, I beg
Don’t go away


Tables are turned
Pity is altered to hate
All of these things done to me
They are unfair
Now you can’t leave

Give up all hope
I will escape
Don’t trap me here
Oh I beg
Let me be me

Please… Friend…



Plot: Who knew that fire dragons coughed smoke wheh they were sick?


Lucy coughed as she tried to block out the smoke that had enveloped her entire house. The celestial mage fanned herself, before trying to make her way through the smoke to the fire dragon slayer.

“Natsu! How many times have I told you that you have to cough and sneeze OUT of the window?” The blonde glared fiercely at her partner who was lying on her bed. Lucy’s hands were firmly placed on her hips, before she sighed and settled a bowl of water beside Natsu.

“Sor-wee,” Natsu tried to say but his runny nose made his pronunciation funny. The fire dragon slayer sniffed a little while Lucy backed away, fearing another blast of smoke.

Lucy sighed again as she watched Natsu retreat deeper into the bed. The celestial mage wrung the towel in the bowl, before gradually dapping it on her partner’s head as she tried to remove any beads of perspiration.

“Maybe you’ll think twice before jumping into a fountain of cold water again.”

“It wasn’t my fault! Asuka told me to!” The dragon slayer gave his partner a puppy face as he recalled back to how the little raven haired girl had commanded him to jump sideways into the fountain.

“Didn’t you dry yourself? Guess you aren’t so strong after all, huh?” Lucy teased as she grinned sideways at the dragon slayer.

Natsu fiercely glared back, taking the opportunity to let out a breath of smoke at his partner’s face.

“EW NATSU! Your germs!” Lucy groaned as she fanned the smoke away.

Natsu chuckled, and simply grinned widely when Lucy continued to clean him. He felt Lucy pause, and realised that she was glancing at his muffler.

“It’s okay, you can take it off. I trust you.”

Lucy smiled smally at her partner, before carefully sliding off the muffler from his neck and neatly folding it. She left it right beside Natsu’s pillow.

The celestial mage felt happy that Natsu trusted her enough to hand her his most prized possession. Sure she knew that Natsu always trusted her, but she still appreciated every little action that was an indication of it.

“Nee, Lucy.”



Lucy simply smiled again. “Well, it’s the most I can do for Papa.”

Natsu stared at Lucy, while Lucy, who had not been aware of what she had just said, was still mindlessly cleaning her partner. Realising that all had became silent, Lucy processed what she had just said, before turning all beet red.

“N-no! I didn’t m-mean it that way! All I meant is that you were a great father model to Asuka,” the celestial mage quickly corrected herself.

“I am great, aren’t I?” Natsu grinned.

“I actually doubt if you’re really sick since you’re still so high-spirited,” Lucy glanced sideways at her partner.

And as though on cue, the fire dragon slayer coughed fiercely, letting out clouds after clouds of smoke.

“NATSU! One more time and you’re taking care of yourself!” Lucy shrieked, much to Natsu’s amusement.

“B-but… I’ve been a great dad! You have to take care of me!”

“Don’t get so full of yourself,” Lucy half-pouted, as she got up from the bed, preparing to put away the bowl.

But Natsu grabbed her wrist, and stopped her. “This great dad hasn’t gotten his kiss though.”

“W-what?” Lucy blushed fiercely, while Natsu simply gave her a fanged grin. “Asuka’s not even here!”

“Whatever,” Natsu casually retorted. “My conscience won’t be fulfilled if I don’t follow Asuka’s instructions. It’s not like it would kill you.”

And before Lucy could even answer, Natsu was already pulling her down.

Lucy gasped as she felt his warm breath on her, and they were just so, so close… Part of Lucy wanted to back away as she thought of how she was going to kiss her best friend, but a larger part of Lucy wanted to let him proceed.

Any time now…

Lucy’s thoughts were clouded and she just couldn’t think straight anymore.

Literally clouded because Natsu had just sneezed right at her and Lucy felt as though the smoke had coursed through her veins.


“Aye!” Natsu squeaked and quicky retreated under the blanket. It was a total screw-up on his part, no doubt, and he obviously had not intended for that to happen.

Lucy, on the other hand, was coughing profusely, causing Natsu to peer out from under the blanket and feeling a sense of guilt well up inside him.

“Sorry, Luce…”

Lucy simply shook her head. It couldn’t be helped that the dragon slayer was sick, much less that he couldn’t control his sneeze and coughs.

“It’s alright, Natsu,” Lucy sighed, picking up the bowl before bending down to press a kiss against the dragon slayer’s cheek. “There, now you can have your conscience fulfilled.

And the celestial mage wasted no time in spinning around to walk off to the kitchen while Natsu was left in a daze, holding onto his cheek.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all, even with all the smoke.

anonymous asked:

Lucifer meeting with a modern-day prophet. What happens when they start falling for each other (as I have been burning with curiosity about how you would write Lucifer).

Lucifer is walking through the snowy streets of Munich at three am when he hears the sound, ringing like church bells and reflecting off every fractal of ice in the air. It shoots through his spine and pulls his heartstrings taut as a lyre. He stands stone-still on the sidewalk, cigarette burning down to ash between his fingers, boots sunk ankle-deep in the snow, and listens. Someone is singing.

He ducks down an alleyway wedged between a church and a pawn shop and slips onto the next street. A young woman is standing under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, bundled up in too many skirts and scarves to count, singing with her her face tilted towards heaven. Snow catches in her lashes and her fingers curl through the air, aching for the divinity just out of reach. Lucifer knows the hymn, an old Protestant folk standard in the original German. But he’s never heard it like this before.

He pulls a handful of euro coins of out his pocket and throws them in the hat at her feet, and the jingle breaks the spell. He eyes flick open and she turns to Lucifer, who is standing very close, watching her with hands in his pockets.

“Dankeschön,” She says, regarding him with wary black eyes. Lucifer smiles back. He can see grace glittering on her skin, feel holiness radiating off her body, smell the heavy fragrance of frankincense and myrrh caught in her hair. 

“I usually find your type behind a church pew,” He says in her language.

“God’s church stretches beyond parish walls and encircles the entire world. Besides, hymns are better use to those you can’t find in a cathedral.”

Lucifer grins. Definitely a prophet. She speaks in a low, soft voice that warms him and soothes something in him that he didn’t realize was restless. Her round cheeks are scrubbed pink from the cold and for some reason Lucifer is bewitched by this little display of humanity, this fetching insight into her fragility.

Her breath catches and flutters in her throat for a moment, then words come tumbling out.

“And I don’t usually find your type in such untroubled places.”

Lucifer arches an eyebrow, even more intrigued.

“You know what I am?”

“And who. I can see the true nature of all God’s creatures whether they want me to or not. It’s a gift.”

Silvery tears are starting to gather in the young woman’s eyes despite the courageous set to her mouth, and Lucifer finds himself troubled. Usually he relishes mortal fear, and someone actually recognizing him while he walks abroad in the human world is a genuine treat, but for some reason he feels compelled to comfort her, to draw her out and look upon all her softness and bloom. He wants her to trust him. So he makes his voice as gentle as possible.

“It takes a keen sort of insight to see through my glamour. If you’re sharp enough to see that you should be able to tell that I don’t wish you any ill will. I don’t have any demonic hordes waiting in the wings and I haven’t come to try and strike a deal for your soul. This is in all earnestness a chance encounter.”

The young woman still looks skeptical, so Lucifer rolls his eyes and lifts his hand up through the air, and as he does so, the crucifix necklace tucked into the prophet’s shirtfront rises of it’s own accord to hover before her face.

“You’re already spoken for, dear. There’s little I could do to you even if I wanted to.”

To his delight, she doesn’t seem frightened, only transfixed as she watches the golden crucifix catch the light.

“Amazing,” She breathes.

“I can do more than that, if you’d like to see,” He murmurs as the crucifix lowers itself into her outstretched palm. “But I’ve got to ask. What gave me away?”

The girl takes a deep breath, her breath turning to steam in the air, then straightens up and examines him more closely. To Lucifer’s surprise she approaches him tentatively and reaches out with a shaky hand to press her fingertips against his chest. As soon as this initial contact is made, all the rest of her fear melts into curiosity, and she began to circle to him, muttering to herself in wonder.

“The shadows don’t sit on you right, and you’re radiating heat, even in this weather. I smelled burning as soon as you walked over here, like a woodfire.”

“When your earthly body is a construction to house your celestial being, you can keep the heat on all the time if you want,” He chuckles. He turns to face her, and her cheeks grow even pinker as she realizes how close they are. Still, she doesn’t draw away, only reaches out to touch the silver serpent pinned to his lapel as though it holds the secrets of his existence.

“Tell me your name,” Lucifer says, and it’s the prophet’s turn to chuckle.

“No, Morningstar, I will not. You have no good use for it.”

Lucifer reaches out to touch her face, and thrills at the electricity of God’s blessing crackling around his fingertips.

“I could call you by it,” He says, and she looks at him with eyes full of wonder. Lucifer leans in to kiss her, their cheeks brushing and breaths mingling, but the girl pulls herself out of his arms suddenly. She does not look frightened or scandalized, only sad.

“Why not?” Lucifer asks, and the prophet empties her tips into her pockets and screws her hat back on her head.

“Because you don’t love me. You love He who lives in me. And that is your tragedy.”

He is stunned, too stunned to protest when she kisses his cheek.

“You can keep chasing echoes of God’s handiwork or you can surrender yourself to the real thing. It’s your choice. It always has been.”

With that she turns from him and starts down the cobblestone street. As the hymn resumes and then fades behind him, Lucifer curls his fingers into fists, and suddenly, he feels very cold.