#daylighter

[coquettetheeldritch]

Being a "daylighter"/vampangel is trippy as hell. On one hand being a divine being, I want to be soft and gentle but on the other- my vampire tendencies like to rear its lustrous head.

Biting is how i show my love darling~♡

[belayadeath-goner]

KENNETH VARECK: if you are to sell your soul to this devil for one thing, what will it be? @daylighter

SELL YOUR SOUL TO THIS DEVIL, WHAT A PERFECTLY SPECIFIC WAY OF PHRASE. it truly was a way to see straight through someone, and make most people uneasy with the depths of the waters they'd been tossed into. but she is not most people. for many years has she been posed questions seeking to unfold the mystery that she was; or the mystery she pretended to be. many persona's had been taken up and left in the dust, after normal wear and tear. none had been able to see right through her before, through her decades of training and experience — until now.

if you are to sell your soul to this devil for one thing, what will it be? in truth, there was no simple answer. for had she not already spent decades doing the work of a devil, an organization that didn't hesitate to torture and torment those who willingly submitted once, in hopes for a better life (?) no matter how much or how long she had tried to repent, bianca had not yet found a way out of the increasingly swelling darkness. “  quiet, probably. to be rid of the pain of memory, or to simply not feel it.  ”

[zmeydeva-arch]

        THE RINK LIGHTS ARE ONLY AT HALF OF THEIR LUMINOSITY.   behind these four walls is a sanctuary of ice and chill.   compared the nest’s overpowering hues of onyx and crimson edgar allen’s skating facilities were entirely muted:  lavender grays and cloudy white.   winter confined and presented in its simplest form.   her breath is mist before her as she laps around the edges of the rink,   the scraping of her blades against the ice is her only companion,   echoing and reverberating off the vaulted ceilings and cavernous walls.   as she builds up her momentum a familiar rush envelopes her,   a different shade of adrenaline than that which she experiences on the court.   THIS WAS PURER,    SOMEHOW,    MORE JOYFUL   ━  I LET ANGER GO HERE AND THE SERENITY MAKES ME BETTER.   leaping from the glossy surface in a backwards glide she pivots into a clean double toe loop finished off with an unshakeable landing.    

        the raven does not hold for applause but still it creeps into this space like a stubbornly small stream continuing forth through the wood.   she hits the edge of her skates then halting in a spray of frost.    she turns to her double who had now slipped out into the aisle to descend the stairs to the rink’s entry gate,    quiet as he had crept into the arena.    leaning over the board,    @daylighter's grin hopelessly cheeky,    ❛    i’ve always been a jealous boy.    ❜   and he could be the jealous sort   (   it is not a lie,   not fully    )   but certainly it was not about the display he had just witnessed.   

        still,   the striker takes his bait.   coasting her way to the ledge and she settles her elbows beside his own over the barrier.    ❛   really?   i hadn’t noticed.    ❜   the atmosphere alone is enough to elicit a humor she did not always feel light enough to have under the reign of evermore;    but this was her domain now.   ❛   you don’t have to be...   why not join me?    ❜   knocking her shoulder against his before she backs out onto the ice once more and with overwrought flourish allows herself a singular spin.    ❛   i could teach you a few things,   if you let me.    ❜   then she returns to him,   quick as she left with a vigor ablaze in the blue of her gaze.   ❛    or are you too afraid i’ll let you fall?    ❜  

[blotgydja]

it was said that patience is a virtue, but marcus had never been good at waiting. even now he tapped his foot impatiently as he scrolled mindlessly through newspaper websites. in truth there was no use for keen observation ( if ken were here marcus would have heard him, his heartbeat a signifier of his presence long before his visage would appear ) yet he paused his reading to cast a searching glance around far more often than natural. as if clockwork, a familiar sound rose above the murmur of anonymous arrythmia, and his gaze caught onto a head of blonde curls amidst the crowd dispersed along the entrance to the neighbourhood park.

❛❛   there you are!   ❜❜      he'd jogged across the street the moment he'd recognised him, maintaining a mundane speed and a grin about his mouth. when he caught up he slung an arm around ken's shoulders in greeting. before he would inevitably be pushed off him marcus checked his temperature with his wrist pressed against his forehead, the tone of his voice teasing as he spoke. ❛❛ you're running a little hot, could be a fever. won't you let me take a bit of your blood and run some tests? ❜❜

𓆩 — starter call • @daylighter

[svyatoiy-arch]

worst sleep that I ever had.

❴  ❊ ˒  PROMPTS  ⊰   ACCEPTING!

before them the cobbled streets of the old town beckoned, crowded with fellow tourists, unlucky locals, and a myriad of buskers and street performers dispersed outside the souvenir shops. above the sound of the eager crowd she could just barely discern the telltale sound of a bagpipe in the distance ─ yesterday she might have poked at ken with the widest smile across her face and pointed the sound out to him, excitement rendering her limbs jittery. but today all she could muster was a large yawn, black-painted fingernails wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her right eye. in her left hand she gripped a disposable coffee cup from greggs, which she sipped at in silence, praying to any saint that would listen to energize her for the day ahead.

❛❛ mmh. ❜❜ alina hummed in agreement, suppressing another yawn at the mention of sleep, and offered him the rest of her stale coffee. ❛❛ the guy in the bunk underneath me kept pulling my curtain open. said he had to make sure I was actually sleeping. ❜❜

her travel companion seemed to be wrapped up in a similar haze of exhaustion and languidity as she did, lazily stretched out on the chair by her side. with his messy hair & his eyes circled in shadows, he looked like he’d been on a bender last night. if only the truth was as salacious. ❛❛ maybe next time we can save up a little, and forgo the hostel for a private apartment instead? ❜❜

[arabella-blackthorn]

That one time Simon listened his inner vampire 🤣

[woemoved]

57.

a mirage of peonies surface in her mind the moment the leather perches atop petite shoulders, not even a morsel of delicacy present in its placement.    nothing but a ' plop. ' there are many of these flowers discernible in her mind,  a throng of colors adorning a verdurous field littered in nothing but peonies.    obviously there is no garden at dellecher that even closely resembles the one she envisions, for their garden is quite paltry by comparison,  but what she imagines is merely the closest she can come to compare now being embraced by their scent.    the impassivity with how it dropped upon her shoulders is what makes it that much better however,  the threads entrenched with their scent coalescing with her own traces of lavender and vanilla.   

legs bent at the knees dangle just off the edge of the dock.   she's far enough from the body seated alongside that they don’t touch if they remain still,  but within close enough proximity where their arms or knees brush if they shift in place.    he is no prince,  no knight in shining armor,  such as those she performs against on stage,  but even still he’d come to her rescue.    when staggering disquietude teetered her on the precipice,  when thieved of control and any sense of safety,  kenneth had been there to whisk her away upon assent.

she smiles into the collar of his jacket,  a shudder rattling up her frame but not from the nippy temperatures still creeping into the emergence of spring.    “  i was thinking,  ”    wren initiates gently,  easily and with a touch of mirth in her tone.    “  there’s quite a lot we haven’t done together.  ”    a lot we don’t know about one another,  which evidently she does not allow herself to state.    she’s learned that with kenneth,  revelation comes by degrees,  comprehension comes with time.    “  considering where we are,  i know that can be difficult.    but  …. how about we do something,  for fun.  ”    eyes veer from the stagnant waters ahead,  braving a peek up in his direction.    “  there's not a single person around to stop us.  ”

gothic horror, dark academia action prompts, accepting.

[coquettetheeldritch]

Intro

🎀Name: Coquette

🎀Age: 26

🎀Gender/ Pronouns: She/He/They/Them (Nonbinary/Androgynous) While my kin form is intersex, im usually fem presenting most of the time. Every now and then ill be masc presenting.

🎀Kin type: Otherkin/Polykin/Divinekin/Godkin

🎀Species: Eldritch/Eternal/Ethereal

🎀18+ Blog ?: Yes there will be some 18+ things on here so no minors please. 🔞

👼Welcome to my otherkin blog. Here i post strictly my art and my journey into the otherkin fandom. Im always looking for new friends so please be nice and respectful.....unless you want to be my next meal~

What i do:

Vtubing 📷

Roleplay🎭

Art🎨

Blogging about otherkin journey 👩‍💻

Other blogs:

Main witchcraft blog 🔮

- If you recieve a follow it'll be from my main.

Dr. Mystique En Vtuber 🎮🔮🧪

- w.i.p

Coquette Cutie Vtuber 🖥🖌💅

-w.i.p

Kofi Art Commissions 👩‍🎨

COMMS OPEN!

DNI❗️:

🚫Minors (besafekids!)

🚫Terfs/"Gender critical",

🚫N@zis,

🚫Racists,

🚫Pędøs,

🚫Homophobes,

🚫pro-lifers

🚫Ableists

🚫Zionists

🚫Anti- alterhuman/otherkin

Yall aren't welcome here😊🖕🏽

[vipier]

i know that you like to fight.

AT FIRST, TRISTAN ONLY HUMS HIS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, FOCUSED AS HE IS ON THE PRACTICE OF POLISHING HIS WEAPON. the sword had never been his preferred accoutrement, prior to entering proper service to the crown at the guidance of his mentor. he finds it cumbersome in comparison to the smaller and lither weapons he favored in the past, but in the preceding couple of years, he's developed far greater skill with it, even though it still certainly isn't his preference. still he dreams of knives, scythes, weapons unbefitting of a royal's personal guard, which live now beneath his cot in the modest guard's chambers adjoining the prince's quarters. they would still feel more natural in his hand, if he were to use them, he's certain. but what irks him deep down is knowing that, were trouble to come knocking, he could accomplish his task of protecting @daylighter far more easily with one of them. why he should find himself so distracted by such a thought with increasingly regularity, given the secret nature of his assignment, is something he cares not to consider at any length.

" literally or figuratively, highness? " he answers a bit distantly, frowning as he focuses his attentions on a particularly stubborn spot on the blade. after a moment, he lifts it to inspect, apparently satisfied with the warped reflection of his own face back to him. left to his own devices, he would likely never care for his blades with quite this level of precision, but in the words of his mentor, it is of the utmost importance for him to maintain his position. " there is not much occasion to draw swords in earnest within the castle walls and I am not partial to tourneys. " true enough, if only because he prefers to maintain at least some anonymity – though the longer he remains at the prince's side, the more he considers putting his skills to the test. " and is it not frowned upon for a kingsguard to engage in much verbal sparring? strong and silent, are we not? " the characteristic flatness of his tone makes it difficult to determine, but tristan knows his tongue is wedged firmly in his cheek with such comments.

he rises then, smoothing his knight's tunic, slipping the sword back in the scabbard on his hip before turning his eyes to kenneth. his mouth immediately tightens slightly. the prince always appears as though haloed in sunlight, beautiful, untouchable, almost holy. given his own responsibilities, the secret mission he's meant someday to complete, it sometimes twists at tristan's gut. he does not know what darkness I crawled from, he thinks to himself with surprisingly bitterness, and I should not care if he would be horrified by it.

" you flatter yourself to know a great deal about me, highness, when you really know so little. " he know he edges dangerously close to disrespect, but as usual, he simply toes the line, pushing only so far, only enough to keep him exactly where he needs to be. " I am merely your guard. I assure you, you would regret knowing more. "

[ow1et]

@daylighter — do you remember who the real enemy is?

the question perks her interest in a way that so few do.  eyes flick up from book, narrow in a way that is far more shrewd than it should be ( searching for a flaw to give away prompt for such an inquisition ). she finds nothing. interesting. " it's gotham. you can have a new mortal enemy every day of the week. pick your poison. " shrug. response is only surface level. she neither wants to consider what a true answer may look like nor to betray that she thinks more deeply than airy exterior implies. shallow as tide pooling between sea - worn rocks.

head tilts, gaze wide and owlish with feigned realization. " unless . . . wait, you aren't talking like metaphysical, psychological junk, are you? " girlish giggle befitting a young socialite. keep herself underestimated at every turn, just the way she likes it. priceless expressions are always worth the extra effort. as are natural advantages bestowed to the unassuming. " sorry, i don't think that far ahead. "

[svyatoiy-arch]

you can’t lie to me. you just can’t.

❴  ❊ ˒  PROMPTS  ⊰   ACCEPTING!

their shared apartment bore no traces of the warfare battled out within it’s wooden walls. the coffee table littered with half-finished coffees and teas, and the dining table, which was covered in printed articles and notebooks and a long-since dead laptop, told the tale of any productive wednesday of first term.

but the girl, sitting perched in a windowsill with the sunlight streaming around her, looked every inch the battered soldier; her cheeks were flushed with agitation, dark brows furrowed as her mouth quivered in its attempt to settle the score.

❛❛ I’m not lying to you, I── ❜❜ voice faltering in a fluster, her words tripping over the stream of warring emotions. frustration rising to meet his, fear that @daylighter was slipping through her fingers like so many before him, worry triggered by the sight of the shadows staining the skin beneath his eyes, and anger; anger that he’d seen all of her, read all her pages, even the footnotes and the messily scribbled annotations in the margins, and yet he’d misunderstood her. ( if he couldn’t see her, who could? )

❛❛ you’re twisting my words! all I meant was ... ❜❜ a stray tear, from her burgeoning sadness or the simmering fury, alina wasn’t sure though it didn’t matter for down her cheek and neck it trickled, her mind too occupied with denying his accusations to wipe away the proof of her weeping heart. ❛❛ you’re my family, ken, you know I love you! I only want what’s best for you── ❜❜ the sound of a mean chuckle stemming from the couch in the corner cut her off, and in her exasperation alina could do nothing but stare him down, her white flag stained beyond repair by his muddied boot and unfamiliarly cold gaze.

❛❛ what is it you want me to do then? do you want me to leave? ❜❜

[zmeydeva-arch]

sender licks receiver's blood off a knife ... and receiver's thumb :/

⊹ ⁺ bloody prompts for the mentally unwell ) ACCEPTING!

       THE MADNESS DESCENDS WITH A BLADE'S SILVER FLICKER.    the fine arcing of a scythe as death arrives over the threshold of the cathedral.     she has been devout in her  visitations;    the prayer she begins to memorize with the passing of weeks.    the latin scripture wreaking fire across her forked tongue.     HOW STRANGE,    THE CONSECRATION AND CONSUMPTION BUILT INTO THE FOUNDATIONS OF THIS FAITH.     and yet it is i who commits the highest sin of gluttony that must face the wrath of god.    on this night god is draped in gold and white and the spill of wine that is sourced from the vein and not the vine.    on this day she has moved against him;     open hostility under the eyes of heaven.    the veil has been pulled over her brow,    tucked behind each curving horn and the faithful are nothing but a fit gasps in witness to this revelation.    

         they are felled by the pew as she has approached their gilded savior.    hands of infinite forgiveness reaching out to cleanse.     the knife edge paints a clean line of crimson across her throat,    not a butcher's first stroke but an artist's.     he seems to marvel at the sudden onslaught of color,    the gleaming metal marred with the witch's blood.     the wound is already healing but her fingers graze its outline before the skin begins to knit itself back together.       ❛   when have you ever proved to be a man of great restraint?     ❜     he needs no goading from her yet she does so with that fanged smile    ━     a blinding white framed by burnished skin.     his own serpent's tongue dragging along the length of the weapon but this is not where he chooses to cease.    man of god moves in closer,    moves upon mother of monstrosity.     

         a stained thumb taken into his mouth and there she feels his own cut of teeth;    that serrated grin he unveils then.    he does not just taste he gnaws,    he gnaws,    he gnaws though it is not enough.     his grip is a vice around her wrist as he twists an arm around her back and forces her to face the parishioners as their agony turns into a symphony of carnage.    looming behind her,    over her shoulder,     an unworldly breath casted across her collarbone.       ❛   ah,    for the audience,   i presume?    the heroic slaying of the she-demon.    finish me off then,    send me to hell where i will wait for you.     ❜    voice raised above the cries of terror;     hear me thus,     see me as the great corrupter.    she who was banished from the garden,    returned to spoil all the roots.       ❛   i want to see their faces when they realize what you truly are.     ❜    this she speaks in a hush while his lips drag along the pillar of her neck.    

[a-koschyei]

send ♫  for a dynamic playlist ♔. from the hoard : 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔭𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬 ( @daylighter ) , accepting

001 succession, hbo opening credits theme (too relevant idc idc)

002 no angels, bastille: no, i don't want your number / no, i don't wanna give you mine, and / no, i don't wanna meet you nowhere / no, don't want none of your time / no, i don't want no scrub / a scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me / hangin' out the passenger side / of his best friend's ride / trying to holla at me / [...][we're all in our private traps] / [clamped in them and none of us can ever get out] / [sometimes we deliberately step into those traps] / [i was born in mine, i don't mind it anymore]

003 arsonist's lullaby, hozier: when i was a child / i heard voices / some would sing and some would scream / you soon find you have few choices / i learned the voices died with me / when I was a child / i'd sit for hours / staring into open flame / something in it had a power / could barely tear my eyes away / all you have is your fire / and the place you need to reach / don't you ever tame your demons / but always keep 'em on a leash

004 pumped up kick, foster the people: robert's got a quick hand / he'll look around the room / but won't tell you his plan / he's got a rolled cigarette / hanging out his mouth / he's a cowboy kid, yeah / he found a six-shooter gun / in his dad's closet / and with a box of fun things / i don't even know what / but he's coming for you / yeah, he's coming for you

005 me & the devil, soap & skin : early this morning / when you knocked upon my door / and i say, "hello, satan / i believe, it's time to go" / me and the devil / walking side by side / [...] people dawging me around / must be that old evil spirit / drop me down in your ground / you may bury my body / down by the highway side / you may bury my body / down by the highway side / so my old evil spirit / can greyhound bus that ride

006 i come with knives, iamx: the paradox of our minds / too much to believe / too much to deny / you fool me again to quiet my pride / but i’m a human / i come with knives / i never promised you an open heart or charity / i never wanted to abuse your imagination / i come with knives / i come with knives / and agony / to love you

[unsister]

we're a virus, i think.

        FRUIT PAST ITS PRIME,   THE ROOM CARRIES THE AROMA OF SOUR HONEY AND DAMP EARTH.   grey's off campus flat can be better described as a cavern with its curtains perpetually drawn shut and a thin misting of dirt over every surface in her kitchen and beyond.   the state of the stove top alone gave the impression that meals were seldom cooked here but it was still a well-used appliance.   ❛   not the melodrama from you.   you've really let this go on for too long,   you know that right?   ❜   perhaps it was the casting of the spell;   the cure before her simmering its effulgence of eldritch violet.   when the final yew berries are tossed into the broth smoke spills over the lip of the pot   (   equal parts poison and cure,   there was no room for error here   )   

        ❛   we might both be fucked up as they come but that doesn't mean you deserve to starve.   ❜   this feels reminiscent of putting the kettle on.   deep amber swirling in fine china.   the wet cough of a cold and small hands wrapping around her own,   feverish and clammy.   the hollow sisters,   the sisters hollow but it is too quiet in this home for it to be that.   it is only her and ken in the candlelit witch's den no grabbing hands awaiting only a tenuous and tentative alliance.   she ladles the potion into a mug topping it with rosemary leaves to diffuse the putrid aroma.   setting it upon a saucer before him she then moves into the seat across from the other illusionist  

        ❛   now drink.   don't ask me the gorey details of what's in it,   you don't want to know.   ❜   it was safe to say it was far more than vegetable juice.   eau de hollow,   some of her own hair had made it into the mixture,   well dissolved but still there.   although the more concerning ingredient was the thin layer of skin she had parted with for the cause.   lichen was durable like that,   not so easily cut off at the root...   because it extended far further than the eye could see.   ❛   then after that eat this.   ❜   she presents him with a meager note of ripped parchment paper.   in a neat scrawl across its surface are two runes nested together.   ansuz;   the open mouth of odin,   in the literal sense.   a calling for acquisition by parted lips.   beside that is an etching of  kenaz;   the fire,   the renewal of it,   a return to the hearth.   

        what was curious about the markings were not their fluid strokes that came from hours of tracing but rather the fact that each line was that of oxidized penmanship.   the ink was none other than her own blood pulled from the vein and transformed into concentrated power.   ❛   you'll be ill for a few days but once the fever subsides you should have your appetite back.   ❜   

THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER PROMPTS ˖ ✃ ( accepting !

[jer3miah]

[ toss ] sender tosses an item at receiver to get their attention / immortal or college/modern verse? pick a random fruit, it's always a fruit!

the demigod in their assemblage of two was both exorbitantly integral to his quest yet still a colossal perplexity to him.     his mere existence would've been an utter enigma to jeremiah if he himself wasn't too of divine lineage. kenneth.... both the calm and the storm tilting his world even more off axis than it had already been reduced to.     under nebulous conditions they’d made a deal, and jeremiah would’ve concurred to just about anything if it signified reversing this eternal fate.     it wasn’t much the immortality that deeply disturbed him, but in being perpetually youthful.     the idea didn't sound entirely vile or futile, certainly not, but it does when taking everyone he loves into account, when everyone he cares about and care about him would surely be met at deaths door someday.     he’d be alone, utterly alone, and he can’t apprehend the thought.     the nymph goddess’ voice clamors within the parameters of his skull, like cymbals clashing with every word articulated, visions of ogygia coalescing with one of he and conrad surfing at cousins beach.

this has been occurring with significantly more frequency as of late, his memories were blurring more and more by the day, defeated by calypso’s ever pervasive ones.     he fears that they’ll become so vigorous that he’ll lose sight of himself, that he’ll forget his own real memories.     perhaps this merely indicates that he’s growing closer, perhaps this means he’s arriving at an answer.     weatherworn arms lay folded across his chest, dropping toward his sides seconds after the apricot collides with his shoulder and rolls toward the earth.    ❝     huh — what?     ❞     if this was kenneth’s attempt at reclaiming his attention, he indisputably has it.     jeremiah’s gaze flickers down at the apricot now having reached a graceful stop, frame bending at the waist to collect and wipe it against the threads of his button down.     he doesn’t await a response to his earlier question before articulating his distressing thoughts, brows furrowing so intensely they nearly unify.     ❝     do you think this will get worse?     that i’ll just forget everything?     ❞     do you think i'll forget who i am?

best friends forever sentence starters, accepting. [ toss ] sender tosses an item at receiver to get their attention.

[neverafters]

it was an eventful day, a very productive day, starting and ending in blood. kieran liked it that way. the demon fed on fear and pain, but they also had a hearty appetite for blood. nightmares kept them satiated, but there was something about the thrill of the chase in real life, where they had less power and couldn't control the dreamscape to make the hunt easier. sometimes, kieran liked to play with their food. and sometimes they liked to play with @daylighter too.

it was rare they found someone that shared that kind of blood lust, but when they swiped their bloody thumb over the line between kenneth's lips and a greedy tongue darted out to lick the finger, a grin spread over kieran's teeth. their lips were still stained red. ( it wasn't their own blood. ) tongue clicked against the roof of their mouth. "i was saving that for later," kieran mused, running their forefinger over kenneth's lips next. "—but there's plenty more where that came from. i have ten fingers." and they'd be happy to watch kenneth lick the blood off every single one of them.