❤︎LilicaAngel ❤︎

My name is ℒ𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒶 for now, and I write and create art a lot. I'm also obsessed with fashion and how it shows up in media. This page is mostly an indulgence, which is ironic because a lot of what I write is about hunger.

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི The basics 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

🏯Genre: ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘

A stylish Gothic Psychological Horror and Urban Fantasy tragedy exploring faith, identity, obsession, and personhood through body horror, religious symbolism, supernatural mystery, folklore, fashion, subculture, and dark comedy. Gothic theological feminine body horror.

🌊Setting: ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘

The story is set in Kynthos, a fictional coastal town inspired by Belize. In 2010, the town was hit by Hurricane Dina, a Category 5 storm that resulted in hundreds of displaced peoples and brought about the first sightings of several dangerous and previously undocumented humanoid creatures. Seeking to contain what they didn’t know how to control, authorities placed the town and all remaining residents in an indefinite quarantine.

Over the course of a decade, the town evolved into an isolated micro-society. While some residents struggle to maintain ordinary lives, others retreat into increasingly self-destructive forms of escapism. As the rest of the world moves on without them, Kynthos becomes a relic place of surreality and unconventional beauty through tragedy.

📌Velvique:𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘

A boarding school type institution attended in adolescence (ages 15-20) by a notable amount of the cast. It is a recurring place in memory. A private, catholic behavioral facility disguised as an elite boarding school for "troubled youth". Students, whether enrolled in the present or past, include most notably Tullia, Nikita, Starii, Noam, Tomir, Valentina, and Kayde.

🍰Angelcakes Bakery: ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་

Alaric is the chef/baker. Thyssen is the waiter and primary hunter for 'ingredients'. Onyka is the owner, who handles expenses and such. Lola is the hostess and supposed to be Barista, but Thyssen ends up doing that most of the time. (It's a small business). Lola daydreams a lot and is widely considered useless by the rest of her inhuman family. Sometimes referred to a the strawberry syrup subplot. It becomes an environment prioritizes consumption, which contrasts the nightlife.Thyssen Provides, Alaric Processes, Onyka maintains, and Lola ornaments.

I'll probably post art and stuff on here too, idk. But if you love fashion, Gyaru subculture, alternative art and clothing, etc etc have fun.

🪷About Me <33

⋮ ⌗ ┆name: Lilica Angel

⋮ ⌗ ┆age / age range: 18

⋮ ⌗ ┆pronouns: She/Her/Hers

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

⋮ ⌗ ┆fandoms: Pink B#tch Club, Challengers, Love Through a Prism, Interview with the Vampire, Nana & Paradise Kiss, Veil, Jennifer’s Body, Killing Eve, The Sims, Gyaru Gyaru, false angels, Little Nightmares, Daevabad, Kamikaze Girls, Helter Skelter, and can I say flapper fanny? She's an icon.

⋮ ⌗ ┆interests: high fashion, fashion history, alternative fashion, gyaru culture, dolls, tarot cards, reading, philosophy, distance running, art history, interior design, writing, painting

⋮ ⌗ ┆DNI: maps,pedos, racists, etc.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

Looks are fun to design, but personality is where SweetDream really shines. You decide whether she's playful or calm, teasing or tender, talkative or thoughtful, and then the chat actually behaves that way.

Charmeine Moodboard

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱⏔⏔⏔

Kayde on Valentina: ♥️♦️

Valentina has always been such a lovely girl. She isn’t thin, but she is filled out in the more desirable places. I won’t apologize for my pervertedness anymore, you must understand this. I am always looking at her. Her hair is straight and dark, kept sleek. It goes just past her shoulders, and her eyes are so captivating. They’re framed by short, prickly lashes and are a silver so piercing I swear her glare could pierce right through flesh. Ashe wears a combination of kohl and black liquid liner to make up for the lack of length. No way it’s traditionally made though, and you think it would be given her family. It’s too clean, too controlled for that.

Her eyebrows are thick and always pressing hard against her eyes. She often scrunches her nose in distaste when she sees me. The top of her oval lips invade in the range of her rectangular nose.

The biggest problem with her is that she is such a bitch. She is so picky and sooo bossy. She shouts and snaps when she doesn't win, getting so angry I’m surprised she doesn’t spit at her opponent’s feet. People gossip about her composure or great emotional restraint, but that’s simply because they’re stupid. Just because she isn’t the bubbly feminine doesn’t make her short in the heart, it just means all of that energy radiates out in other ways. She almost has an aura of just red, pure rage all of the time.

With women, people assume a lack of a show is a show of a mask, but I can tell you that is not true at all. Some just lack perception. I find her quite easy to read in this area. She is simply more polite in public, like any respectable person. Valentina is cruel to get her way. I know this, I am her best friend.

I have been her best friend for 3 years now. We have been friends since that hazy night at a party in one of the Velvique dormitory common rooms. We had both drank, but she was absolutely gone! I had to hold back her hair while she got sick in one of the stalls. Maybe that’s the real reason she ended up cutting it rather than all of the mental rebirth idealism she was going on about. She calls Lion her pet.

That night was truly when she sank her claws into me, and into my heart. I for one was less intoxicated by anything I’d ingested and more purely on the vulnerability she showed in that moment. I was never the most keen on drinking. Not to say I was abstinent - not by a long shot. I smoked and I swallowed my own appropriate share to engage in good fun. But have you seen the way alcohol calories build up? It’s disgusting. And quickly instead Val herself quickly became my absolute substance of choice.

What had bothered me the most about my utter addiction to her attention was that I didn’t want to bed her. To clarify, I’m not any kind of forceful. Not only is that fucking pathetic but it also just sounds genuinely unimplorable. The fact that it crosses anyone’s mind to actually commit is horrid to me. There's no intimacy, or giggling, or that specific bond of the souls. I just mean in the sense that I wanted to bed everybody - men and women alike - because it was how I navigate the world, truly. Some people communicate with words and pictures but I do with hands and skin, not even in a particularly dirty way. The regular ecstasy of true physical connection was like air to me. I liked it more than literal ecstasy! However I did not want it with her at all. I just wanted to watch her, to observe her, the way someone watched and cared for a red rose in a garden of wilting white tulips. She was a beloved weed.

I did not want to kiss her. I liked it when she cried against me. I liked seeing her rage and break things. Often, she would nearly strike me in her fits.

Most of all, I liked it most when she made it clear that she saw me as hers. This night, absolutely out of her head, she kissed mine. We spoke about lipstick colors - utter nonsense - and she pulled her tube from her pocket. We sat crossed-legged from each other, and she snatched my chin to draw me closer, and drew directly on my skin. It was a weird texture - waxy but creamy at the same time. And she drew two hearts while whispering something. Sorry, don’t remember what she said. I was high.

She doesn’t really have anyone, and I guess neither do I. And my hair is longer than hers now. She kept pulling at hers during her episodes, so I helped her cut it even. It goes almost to her chin now. School rules didn’t let us dye it, so we took the liberty of doing it ourselves once we got out. Mine is goldish now and hers is a wine red. I felt a sick coiling in my stomach when she asked me to help her rinse it. I helped her with her head under the water and watched the dye spill into the sink. I held her just a moment after it was uncomfortable and she had to tap my arm to let her up. I laughed at her, and she sighed.

It was a quiet night, too quiet even. The only noises were the slow susurration of the ocean waves that were like a smooth sanding on the skull, and the rhythmic chop-chop-chopping of a wide knife into a dense wooden cutting board. Inhuman senses could taste the oak and walnut in the air, the fragments that flew off of the piece with every chop, chop, chop. But it was overwhelmed by the scents of blood and sugar. It seemed to slide down a creatures throat as warm and unpleasant and invasive as catarrh.

A body stood in the kitchen, one of thick bands of muscles that suggested they were better for other uses than the almost domestic task at hand. He chop-chopping of vibrantly red meat. It was almost unnaturally bright with blood in some places, and made a hardly perceptible wet noise as the expert technique cut through it. Bright at the edges and a deeper red within, the highest quality. Truly succulent and gourmet.

The man at the cutting board placed the knife down gently, and almost reverently picked up the cuts like they were small animals in his large hands. He lifted them into bowls of mixed seasonings - cinnamon and brown sugar among other things, and pressed the sweet rub into it. Brushing his thumbs through every almost crevice, making sure each piece was fully coated, and then sealing them away to cook for tomorrow evening.

Then, he moved to wash them almost obsessively. The squish of water and the glaze of foam was salve, making him feel cleaner after the actions of the day. Dried them against a cotton towel, and moved to the refrigerator.

He prepared a small dish. A little glass bowl with waves and ridges like a stream surrounding it. Perfectly, he transferred a homemade frozen dessert two it, using a pipe to make it a perfect swirl. It smelt lightly of vanilla and lavender. He topped it with a pink, decorative flower and sparkling gold sprinkles, then in a spiral, he drizzled a syrup over it that was such a deep red it was almost black, with a texture like chocolate.

He carried it in a single hand, with a long-necked spoon between his fingers. His steps were heavy and the wood creaked under his weight as he made his way upstairs.

He groaned quietly like the wood beneath him, as he brought just the tips of his knuckles to the door on the right of him in the second floor. Something fell and tumbled to the ground inside, but otherwise there was no response. Typical. His hand practically swallowed the doorknob as he pushed the door open.

Inside, there were 3 different wardrobes of distinctly different styles and colors. Even the wood types were different. One was a pale pink and rectanglular with white, spherical legs and white daisies painted on it. One was a curvy Birch with crystal handles. The final one was a dark stained, ornately carved antique. One was open, all sorts of pastel pinks spilling out. Ruffles and bows and satin to clothe an entire girl's home with splendor.

The windows were covered with heavy curtaining with lace details, the was a small pile in the corner of small stuffed animals and other trinkets, in in the center of the room, on thin, black legs, was a glass, rectangular fish tank.

There was a lack of any lid or frustration, and it was completely clear. Real glass, and filled halfway with the salt water from outside. Inside of it, was a young woman.

She was pale and thin, and she was dressed in only thin, soaked-through undergarments. Most staggering was her hair. It was long and flowed around her like a cocoon. It almost had more life than she did. Her position, curled tight and small with her head hidden half dipped in the water, was reminiscent of a small child pretending to sleep once a parent walks in.

"I know you're awake, little fish"

His voice was smoother than his appearance - with his porous, tan skin and buzzed down hair. The young woman was still for another moment, before she finally seemed to give up the facade. Her shoulders untensed and the small burst of bubbles near her mouth indicated a deep exhale - giving up.

She sank further into the tank that barely contained her body curled up, until she was completely submerged. Her fingers lightly touched the bottom so she could go from sitting to resting on her knees and arose to put her hands on the ledge. She looked almost bored as she resurfaced, and rested her head on her arms.

"It's so late, Alaric. Why are you up."

He lifted the dish into view, and her pupils visibly dialated as they focused on it. A slow, predatory smile spread across its face like a cat locating a mouse - it revealed her razor sharp points of teeth. But unlike the others with the shark-like grins, hers was more micro like a piranha's.