#darkness is a lack of light but light is not a lack of darkness

[rinnstars]

love locket!

keeping you in his locket when he can’t keep you with him by his hand

itoshi rin x reader: fluff, drabble, comfort, longing, established rs, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated!

rin remembers the first time you clicked the chain around his neck, a cold metallic string stinging his skin with its low temperature in contrast to his burning and red neck from the lack of distance between the two of you, hands fiddling with the heart locket at the front, looking up at the glittering heart underneath the low lights of your bedroom.

rin has never been too much of an accessory person, it’s a trouble he thinks, removing it before games and whatnot - discarded watches by his water bottle that gets left in the dust of his bedroom stand, hair pins requested by his teachers that get lost in the mess of his bag that are long forgotten by the time he steps on field, glasses that he finds little use for that he leaves in his case in a random drawer when he already has you. but rin supposes, it wont be too much - when he looks at your pleading face and lets the necklace hang around his neck, almost as though your icy hands are wrapping around his neck as you always do from the back. and he’s not too surprised when you open the locket cheekily and place that mini polaroid of you and him into the small heart locket: its characteristic of you, doing things like this. and its certainly no trouble when he thinks of the assosciation, that youre always with him in the little necklace he’s sure he’ll wear every second of his life, that you’re never too far in contrast to everyone who feels like they’re a million kilometers away, that youre his heart that keeps him breathing.

he likes it. strangely enough. rin likes the way the silver heart locket looks in contrast to his black uniform, black hair, and black shoes as though youre right on him, he likes the way it feels comforting when he holds it as though he’s holding you that warms his fragile heart, he likes the way it clicks open easily for him to glance at you and him whenever you can’t be with him: different classes, different clubs, different release time and what not. and rin thinks he learns something too: he learns that he likes your face a little too much that it resembles an art piece to him with the way his fingers traces softly along your features, something that he knows he’s too flustered to do in real life, he learns that this might be his new lucky charm with the way he kisses both the polaroid inside and the heart locket before each game and wins whenever he does so, he learns too that he’s strangely protective over it, using his hand to protect it and holding onto the back click of it whenever he feels it weaken a little and eventually fixing it in his bedroom late at night despite his strict schedule set for himself.

a simple gesture of love turns out to be his saving grace. rin’s never being that clingy he thinks - ignoring the way he practically clings to you like a koala bear and drools in his sleep whenever he naps with you after school before football club starts, ignoring the way he interlocks your hands and his whenever youre outside with him whether on an actual date or just walking home with him, ignoring the way he can’t stop refreshing your social media pages and messages for a hint of you. but yet, when he’s stuck here all alone in the blue lock, he’s never been more grateful for this little locket that keeps him sane. like a prayer, rin looks at that photo of you, memorising the smile lines on your face that he thinks resemble the finest museum pieces, the crescent shaped eyes that closes whenever you beam this bright like the sun of his universe, as though feeling that same arm in the picture that wraps around the him in the photo in real life too — when he goes to bed in pure darkness with only his ipad brightness underneath the blankets and wake up inconspicuously away from his roommates prying eyes, before, with nerves all jittery underneath the facade he shows with water drank still dripping down his mouth that he’s so used to you wiping away and after each match in the locker room, sweat dripping down his face and neck, his head dizzy with adrenaline still pumping through him as he shakily opens the locket and unconsciously smiles at your face, before and after he eats as though grateful for you to providing him food. rin wonders if you’re doing the same - looking through the piles of photos you hogged as though a squirrel before winter of him: candid photos, 0.5x zoom photos, couple photos, refreshing his chats waiting for him desperately to reply like a lovesick fool too, fiddling with that identical matching heart locket featuring the exact same photo.

rin wonders too: in the future, would it still be the same? when he’s overseas playing, will he too do the same? treating this heart locket like a secret treasure, opening it day and night and having to find someone to eventually fix it when the heart disconnects from the chain with the amount of times he opens it as though he’s a lonely maiden waiting for you to come home from war in the past history, treating his heart locket as another extension of oyu with the way he caresses it with his fingers, kissing the photo delicately and wiping carefully any stains that lingers on the metal: things that he’s too shy he thinks to do, treating his heart locket as you practically, whispering unsaid confessions and words at night while holding the heart locket right to his heart as though swearing an oath.

you and him are still young: rin knows this. yet, he can’t help but feel helpless this way. insecurities — whilst youre out with your friends from school during this holiday going to malls, beaches, sleepovers and whatnot, he’s trapped in this facility that feels more and more claustrophobic each day. will you forget him one day? will he one day be forced to choose between you and his passion? and hes back to opening that love locket for reassurance: that you gave this to him because you love him, because you don’t want him to miss you too much over this break, because you want him to remember you the way he needs you to remember him. if anything, he still feels like the teenager in love with you: it was just yesterday to rin that he confessed to you right in your bedroom that hes been in since he was a little kid as though a second room for him lying right beside you, not even fully understanding the word yet, it was just yesterday to rin when he cried for the first time in his life right outside your doorstep as he felt your arms wrapped around him as snow falls on both of you: and he swears you were his angel that night, and it was just yesterday that you sent him off to this blue lock facility for one chance in succeeding in this shared dream of you and rin.

and when your hands finally wrapped around him, for the first time, rin lets down his pride and whatever that’s left of him after that humiliating defeat by yoichi, and throws himself on you, wrapping his arms uncharacteristically around you. he doesn’t hesitate either this time, his hands lingering and tracing your arms, and then your face as he leans in: studying and comparing your new changes in contrast to that polaroid in his heart locket: your cheeks have gotten chubbier, your hair has grown a little longer and curlier during the break, and you’ve gotten a new pair of coat in contrast to the usual white coat you sport. and things he doesn’t do: pressing a kiss on your lips and melting right into it just as he did when he kisses your polaroid before and after each match, melting into the way your still cold hands wraps around his very being just like how it was right in that polaroid, looking at you with the same amount of lovesickness in his eyes the same way it was captured in that polaroid. right now, youre real: youre not just a polaroid in his heart locket, and he prefers that.

rin doesn’t mind being embarrassing or cringe: he just wants you. no heart locket could replace you, he thinks. you’ve changed so much just in a few months, and he loathes the fact that he didn’t see it happen: when you first learnt how to curl your hair, when you first bought your new coat, when you first started playing that game you text him about. and he knows it’ll be all he feels: when he leaves japan to pursue his dreams: he’ll miss your graduation possibly with games going on the same time as then, he’ll miss you turning eighteen too and same with you when he turns eighteen in a locker room preparing for another match, nd he’ll miss anniversaries physically, only calling you and buying you gifts from afar. and he hates that, he hates it like a little kid, he hates this yearning and longing and burning in his heart.

and he thinks, a love locket isn’t enough. hes always too much: as a kid when he destroys his and others toys in the playground and at home, as a teen when no one else caught up to his instinct on field, as a teen with too much baggage and personality for his peers to get to know beneath the surface. its selfish: rin wants to grow old with you: he wants this to last an eternity — hell, he doesn’t mind tying the knot now, make a paper ring the same ways he did right in class unknowing of this love burning in his chest, and maybe on impulse to give up his whole career and aspiration just for him to be able to stay.

but for now, he’ll smile and kiss you right as the polaroid goes off: tucking the paper right in his now slightly rusted love locket.

[theflashisgone]

I have both eyes but lack binocular vision unless I'm really focusing on seeing with both eyes, which I usually don't because it gives me a headache. I can judge depth and distance during the day based on texture and shadow cues, and how big known objects like traffic lights and other cars are when I'm driving, but when it's dark and there isn't enough light for shadows and texture to be visible I lose the ability to tell how far away the ground is.

I also routinely lose sight of things that are between the distances of three feet and six inches from my face, so I can't catch thrown objects and I walk into low-hanging branches a lot.

Also my proprioception sucks and I regularly think I'm several inches further to the left than I am, so I bang my right shoulder into doorways and wall all the goddamn time.

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"My everything." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

A/N: Just a cheesy imagine hehe sometimes I like to imagine a soft dad!Daryl. I wrote this imagine for my Tom Holland page, so if you ever find it, you know why. Sorry if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you like it! Thank u.

Marley Rose Dixon was one month old now.

She was born in a warm room full of candles, in a blissful and foggy night in which the world of her mother and father was painted with beautiful colors again after walking in a grey world for so long, announcing her arrival with a loud cry that showed her freedom and her desire to live until the doctor (luckily, there was a few in Alexandria) placed her on your chest for the first time.

Marley was named after Daryl's older brother, and you didn't mind because despite everything, you knew how much he loved his brother. At first, the news wasn't easy for either of you two to take in (the option of abortion was considered at length), but the thought of a baby gave you both the hope that something better and more beautiful could come, too. And boy, it did.

Right there, the moment she was born, her blue eyes — identical to her father's — sparkled with the glow of two small diamonds, treasures hidden behind her long lashes from the first time she opened her eyes and gazed, serenely, at her parents, and the new world around her, a better world you two were trying to build for her.

But from that moment on, she cried, cried and cried from time to time.

At 2:54 am, Alexandria is submerged in a cozy dream far from the fear and death, unlike you, and it seems unreachable for you as you walk through your dark room taking soft steps and soft bounces, holding in your arms a small human being created from a great love and blah, blah, blah, other nonsense things you used to believe before being deprived of such a necessary resource, for your sanity and mental health (you didn't sleep much before her, and Daryl even less, but still), But you chuckle, numb from lack of sleep, tired, but at peace with yourself as her little head lies on your right arm and your left one gently caresses her back, wrapped comfortably in a white blanket with pictures of little elephants, just like the pillow in the shape of the same animal that Uncle Rick found for her during a run.

You love her, you are crazy about her, even if the days became difficult and the nights were exhausting, (even with the monumental help Carol and the rest of the family gave you), but all the reward is in being able to hold her in your arms, warm and safe. Daryl calls her his angel, his princess, and at the time, it is an appropriate nickname for someone who cries to make her demands heard.

You chuckle, again.

"Is she tellin’ ya a good joke?" Daryl walks into the room, holding a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

You and Carol taught him how to do it, and now, he is an expert. His brown hair is tousled, but it usually is so no one could tell the difference, eyes tired from lack of sleep, shirtless and in gray loose sweatpants he refused to wear at first.

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and just fell asleep in the kitchen."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

You shake your head gently, looking away to your baby who is enjoying a meal at 3 in the morning, resting peacefully, just like a princess, in your arms with eyes closed, body relaxed, arms outstretched to pretend to hold the bottle in your hand.

“Even dad can get a nap; you sleep whenever you feel like it… so, where is mom's nap? I mean, I've slept an hour every night since you were born, the room is a mess like us, and my breasts hurt too much."

Daryl chuckles.

"Can't help ya with that, darling. In fact, I think that's exactly what got us into this mess."

"What?"

"Yer boobs." Daryl babbles, smiling wearily, eyes closed as he falls against the edge of the bed, only to stop holding his own weight when he can no longer bear it. “Yer incredible, amazing boobs. They’re amazing and I love ‘em so much, but they were the temptation that brought us… this beautiful gift."

You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with him.

"They are amazing, and she is beautiful when she doesn't cry.”

"That's when I love ‘er the most." Daryl answers, and a second later, you both chuckle in unison.

“Although, it was kind of your fault for wanting to do it without a condom, you horny bastard.”

Daryl chuckles, and because he wasn't used to doing that before you, that tiny sound was endearing.

“Ya regret it?”

"Never." You say with confidence, because you know that he did not regret the decision either. You laugh quietly, after a while. “But… you know what I was thinking?”

“Um?”

“That this would be a good time to save money so that she can go to a good college.”

Daryl wasn't used to making jokes, so with the help of the moonlight coming through the window, fighting the darkness of the room, he raises himself slightly to look you in the eyes, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Jesus, I’m just kidding.”

Daryl chuckles, falling on the bed again, one arm over his eyes.

“Ya think is a good idea if we teach her how to kill walkers when she gets older? Marley could be the new little ass kicker.”

You smile to yourself, because for some reason, your daughter's name on his lips is like sweet honey. And, although you wanted to protect her from that world, the rules had changed, and in order to survive, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself too. Fortunately, it was still too early to think about that.

So, asleep again, you leave Marley in her crib near the bed before returning to it, laying down next to Daryl as he rolls over onto his left side, taking advantage of the time that you still have until the baby wakes up again, just to repeat the cycle you have been living in since Marley was born.

But life still feels good despite the fatigue and the occasional physical pain, because she was everything you never imagined you could have, not in that world, and she, more beautiful than you had ever dreamed of during the wait.

"Thanks, peach." Daryl whispers, so close to you that you can feel his nose against yours, his hand caressing your waist over your shirt, but you're so tired that it takes you a few seconds to gather your strength to respond.

"Why?"

"For our baby, for lovin’ me, for givin’ me a home. Ya two are ma everythin'."

You smiled, sighing.

"You're welcome, love. We are very, very lucky to have you." You say, taking a breath to answer as you look at him: eyes closed, body finally relaxed after having her on his chest most of the day. He is a good dad, the best. "But still, the next turn is yours alone."

Daryl, amused, looks blindly for the warmth of your body to pull you against him, tickling you slightly and that have you both smiling softly despite the absolute exhaustion, a few seconds before you both can fall into a deep sleep, finally.

[conchcronch]

My Turn

WC: 2816

Pairing: Spite x Fem!Rook

Summary: Lucanis accidentally fell asleep which leads Spite to take over when you come to spend the evening together.

Warnings: a little bit DUB CON but it gets cleared up towards the end.

A/N: PLEASE send me prompts for Lucanis and Spite x Rook, I’m obsessed.

The lack of a moon and stars in the Fade had unsettled you since your first night at the Lighthouse. The sky was lit as though there were some sort of light source but you could never find one as you walked from the main building out to the farthest room at the end of the courtyard. What had originally been your dining hall had been taken over by the Crow, feeling most at comfort in the dank pantry, not something you could fully understand but you also had no intention of questioning it more then you already had.

The door was unlocked, the fire lit in between the two wolf statues. Your partner was not leaning against the mantle as you had expected, but the flickering of candles through the pantry/bedroom door quickly hinted at where he likely was. You noticed freshly brewed coffee, two mugs set out, anticipating your arrival. You cleared the distance from the door to the counter in the small, dark kitchen. Taking your time prepping the coffee, leaving his black so he could taste the flavor notes of this particular blend, but pouring a decent amount of milk in your mug, the thought of leaving yours black made you grimace.

With mugs of coffee in hand you walked past the fireplace, the warmth wrapping around your legs making the cold of the back bedroom all the more jarring. His back was to you, the candle light flickering, distorting his shadow as it danced across the wall. “I brought you coffee, it might be a little cold, but I can warm it up if you want.” You took a quick sip of yours as you held his outstretched, his back still to you.

“Not now” a wave of his hand made you cock an eyebrow but put the mug down on a small shelf nevertheless. You leaned your back against the sturdy oak shelving, sipping your coffee as you tried to output enough fire magic from your palm to warm the ceramic mug rather then ignite it. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable despite being slightly out of character for him. Ever since the blighted dragon attacked Tarviso he had been different, the sight of such a beast in a town that he and his family were fighting so hard to save must have proved to him just how delicate it really was.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, his hand under his chin, toying with his beard as he so often did when deep in thought. “Neve is still gone” the silence had stretched on much too long for your liking, your anxiety gnawing at you as you watched him. You were hoping he’d reassure you, tell you you had no choice but to make the impossible call, to thank you for choosing his city over her’s. But instead he just stood there, silent, unmoving. “I’m worried she might not come back, Bellara says she will, but honestly I’m not sure I would if I were her.” You tipped your head further back, the last mouthful of coffee warming your throat as you put your mug on the shelf next to his. “Lucanis,” He didn’t budge at the use of his name, his shoulders barely even moving as he breathed. You stepped closer to him, your hand out in front of you to touch his shoulder. “If now’s not a good time I ca-“ He felt cooler to the touch, even through the layers of his shirt and vest, it was as though his body was giving off no heat.

“Smells like waterlily.” The voice was his, but not entirely. His accent was present but the pitch off, the tone heightened. You tensed, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next. Finally the body of your partner turned, his eyes glowing purple as you’ve seen only a handful of times before.

“Spite” The name feels sharp in your mouth, your tone giving away your hesitation. He leaned forward, sniffing you closer and you remained glued in place. He stepped forward, close enough you could wrap your arms around him if you really wanted to. You can feel his breath on your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply, his face was so close to your skin you swear you could feel his lips against you for the briefest of seconds.

“You came to us for pleasure” You felt your face flush, of course it wasn’t your only intention, but you certainly weren’t going to turn it down if one thing led to another, but your relationship was still fairly new, and despite your longing for a physical component you weren’t intending to push those boundaries. But for your desires to be so bluntly outed there was a wave of embarrassment that washed over you.

“Let me talk to Lucanis.” You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest but not missing the way the demon’s purple eyes dragged down your form.

“It’s my turn with you.” You couldn't deny how impressed you were at Spite’s fairly calm demeanor, after listening to many of Lucanis’ one sided conversations with the demon you had expected him to be bordering on feral when speaking directly to him.

”Spite, I want to talk to Lucanis.” You added a bit more force to your tone, hoping the demon would grow tired of your insistence and go back to wherever it is he resides when Lucanis is in control. But when you felt hands on your hips, tugging you against the body you so desperately craved it took you a beat before you were struggling against the grip.

His lips were on your neck, lapping more than kissing. Groaning as he did so, every lick finishing with a gravelly moan, his hips rutting against your side as his hands balled the cotton of your shirt. “sp-pite- fuck” You tried to convince yourself to push away from him, but your longing for the Crow was fogging your brain. You could feel your core pulse, his tongue working wonders along your sensitive neck and the slightly distorted moans were making it difficult to resist.

“Spite” You tried to say but it ended up coming out as a whine rather than a demand, receiving what could only be referred to as a purr instead of a hum.

“Can smell how wet you are, Rook” The way he purred your name forced you to swallow a moan. Before you were able to even notice him walking you backwards, your back was against the stone wall of his makeshift bedroom. His fingers trying to unbutton the top clasp of your navy casual shirt, bought from a Crow vendor Lucanis had brought you to not that long ago. His patience lasted about as long as it took you to blink before he ripped the garment open, buttons falling to the ground around your feet.

Before you could chastise him about the now ruined shirt, the words died in your throat the moment his hands were on your bare waist. His blunt, well manicured nails dug into your skin, as he pressed your body against the wall, his lips finally on yours.

This wasn’t the first kiss you and Lucanis would have shared, but it certainly was the most heated. Every kiss with Lucanis had stopped before it went anywhere, his lips pulling away as soon as you tried to deepen it, never giving a reason but always retreating afterwards. But the way Spite kissed you, the way his tongue invaded your mouth, marking what you knew he’d refer to as his territory. You were trapped between him and the wall, his hands slipped down from your waist until he could roughly grab your ass, keeping your hips against his as he rutted against you, moans and grunts flowing from his mouth every time it wasn’t covered by your own lips.

“Had to…” He spoke into your mouth, his words fading as though he forgot he was even speaking “had to watch him. Watch him kiss you. Terribly.”

“Spite” you tried to sound as though his sentence offended, but it ended up coming out far more breathy than intended.

“Could smell you. Can always smell you. I always tell him. Tell him you want this. But he never listens to me.” He’s back to your neck, lapping at your skin, dragging his tongue down to your collarbones, his hands kneading the fat of your ass.

”Spite, I think- ah- I think it’s Lucanis’ turn.” Spite laughed against you, biting at your collar hard enough you weren’t sure if he had drawn blood or not.

“He’ll stop.” His mouth sank lower, nipping at the tops of your breast, “I know you don’t want to stop. Can smell it.”

“Spite, please.” Reluctantly he pulled away from your chest, your eyes meeting his glowing purple sockets, and somehow you could have sworn you saw his expression soften for a fraction of a second. You reached forward, cupping his cheek as you had done countless times to Lucanis, hoping the demon found the same comfort in it that the Crow did. He pressed his cheek into your palm,

“Will I get. Another turn?” You couldn’t resist nodding, finding yourself thinking how cute he was, despite the fact he was still pressing you against a wall and had torn your shirt in two.

You watched the demon blink, his purple eyes closing and reopening with black pupils, brows furrowed in confusion as he stared into your eyes, blinking a few times as though he was trying to clear sleep from his vision. Lucanis’ breath quickened, immediately trying to assess the situation that he had just woken up in. “Did he hurt you?!” His tone was dripping in anxiety as he stepped away from you, your hand falling from his cheek as he hurriedly looked around.

His eyes moved down your body then back up, pausing before repeating the same thing, slower this time. The tips of his ears burned red as he realized what had happened as he unknowingly slept. “Mierda” He looked down at the buttons that lay around your feet.

It was impossible to not notice how he was straining against his slacks, his eyes everywhere but your gaze. “I-I sho- I should go” You wanted to stop him, grab him by the wrist before he was out of reach, but your mind was still foggy with lust and craving more of what Spite had been giving you, but this time you wanted to feel Lucanis’ lips against you.

You stood there for what felt like an hour but you knew it couldn’t have been that long, leaning back against the wall behind you, hoping the cool stone would help clear your thoughts and bring back some reason.

By the time you went to go find the Crow, the sky surrounding the Lighthouse had shifted to black, the pieces of debris still floating around the buildings as though it were as normal as clouds in the sky. As you climbed the rickety stairs that led to the top of the dining hall you glanced around the courtyard, trying to see if any of your companions were out. You expected to see Emmrick on the balcony of the main house where he so often went at night, taking note of the ethers in the Fade. But tonight there wasn’t a soul outside apart from you, Lucanis and Spite.

He stood at the far side of the roof, bent over the railing, his head hung down so his forehead was resting against his arm. No matter how quietly you approached him, he always knew you were there. You could tell he knew by the way his body stiffened, his shoulders tensing and his head moving so he was looking out over the courtyard.

He needed time, time to figure out what had just happened, how far things had gone, time for his unexpected erection to go away, and time away from your intoxicating scent. But of course you were coming up the wooden steps not long after him.

He tried to pull himself together, locking his eyes on the back of the wolf statue in the middle of the courtyard, the cool ‘night’ air was the only thing that was keeping his cheeks from turning pink again. You stood beside him silently, leaning over the edge of the building, taking in the view of the Lighthouse.

You could feel how uncertain he was, his hands clenched the railing, his posture even straighter than normal as he pretended like he was taking in the sights just as you were. The breeze reminded you of your open shirt, which you tried to hold close with one hand while the other pushed through your bangs in an attempt to ease your uncertainty. “I’m not sure what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, desperate to break the silence that stretched between the two of you.

“Then why say anything.”

“Because I’m worried if I don’t start talking, you might never speak to me again.” You hazarded a look at him from the corner of your eye, hoping to gauge his reaction to some extent, but it remained stoic.

The silence stretched on until the sky darkened even more, the colour the same shade of blue as the Crows’ armor when you first laid eyes on him. You fidgeted anxiously, changing positions over and over again as the time passed, until you had your back to the railing, head up looking for any kind of star above you. “I should have been more careful.” It almost sounded like the words were meant for himself rather than you, as though he were reprimanding himself.

“Why?”

“He could have hurt you…I…I could have hurt you.” You couldn’t stop the little scoff that slipped out, turning to look at him with a smile across your lips, meeting his eyes for the first time since Spite had relinquished control. “Is now really the time to laugh?”

“If you think I couldn’t take you in a fight, you’re sorely mistaken, Crow.” You watched his eyebrow raise, the corner of his mouth following, but only slightly.

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

“I don’t know,” You sidestepped, bringing your shoulders closer so you could nudge against him “Why, is it working?”

“This is serious, Rook.” He turned to face you, his hand on his hip as he shifted his weight. “I let my guard down, and you…he forced himself on you.”

“That’s the thing,” You stood up straight, turning to look at him fully while you rubbed at the back of your neck, knowing that the next thing out of your mouth had the potential to end your relationship before it had really started. “He didn’t force himself on me, he more…initiated it, I guess.” You watched his eyes narrow, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together what you were saying. “I could have pushed him away if I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t?” There was an underlying disgust in his voice, as though the thought of being with him was so vile he couldn’t even pretend to understand.

“I didn’t.” The silence left as heavy as the weight of the world that seemed to live on your shoulders. He broke what little eye contact you had held, shifting his weight as he put more of his weight on the railing, his hair slipping from behind his ear.

“Why didn’t you?” His voice was quiet, if there had been even a bit of a breeze, you may have missed his question all together.

“Because I wanted it.” You watched his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening so you could see his teeth grind. “But I wanted it from you.”

“From me?” You couldn’t stop the small laugh that slipped from your lips at his clearly, surprised tone.

”Lucanis,” You leaned against the small wall, one hand on the railing the other perched on your hip. “This can’t possibly come as a surprise.” He looked over at you, cheeks just a hint of pink.

“I just- I didn’t know you wanted…that.” He dropped his eyes again but not before dragging along the sliver of bare skin he could see between the seams of your torn shirt.

And to think he had touched you, kissed you, dragged his hands down your bare skin, and didn’t get to enjoy even an ounce of it.

“Consider this your formal announcement that, Lucanis-“ You stepped closer to him, waiting a beat before he too straightened, turning to face you so you could press your forehead to his. “I desperately want exactly what Spite was doing. But I want to try it with you.” The only response you received was a low hum that you felt rubble from his chest and into yours as he grabbed your waist and tugged you against him.

[madwomansapologist]

YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter one: a blinding glimpse or the one you politely offered your heart to the king of curses in an attempt of mocking him.

warnings: ryomen sukuna, meet-cute (they're actively trying to kill eachother), hate to morbid curiosity, canon level of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, cannibalistic thoughts, hot villain covered in blood, sorcerers being clinically insane, satoru gojo cameo, fight style visual.

word count: [1.2K]

kill count: [0]

Observing it all from above, scarce stars battling with artificial lights to test his blurred vision, Sukuna realized he awakened in a distant era. One that overflow with life, he assumed.

He could hear it all. At every dark street and its endless crossroads kids would bid their farewells and run back home. Wind carried the hiss of kettles and brush of soles against old rugs. Sukuna reveled in the harmony reverberating inside each and every human blissfully unaware of the hungry void lurking above.

Offenses cowardly whispered, commands shouted, nauseating confessions. How many voices. So much unnecessary noise. Sukuna’s initial deduction was proven correct in a matter of seconds. Life overflows in every moldy corner. Surviving isn’t a concern in this brand-new world, and herds born for slaughter confuse not having a predator with having strength.

It truly is a perfect era to destroy, considering the reek of sorcerers nearby.

I was brought back, Sukuna rejoiced as the receptacle resisted his presence. To a world build to be torn apart, Sukuna laughed as an extravagant sorcerer dared use him as a training dummy. Nothing good will came out of this, Sukuna felt a shiver on his nape.

A thunder silenced the world. Wall after wall shattered as the impact of a lightning bolt threw Sukuna inside the building. Involved by a dense layer of dusty, Sukuna regained balance. Pearly white waves danced above his skin. The aftermath of sheer electricity.

It didn’t burn Sukuna. It didn’t hurt him at all. A basic and quick attack lacking cursed energy and strength. Sorcerers sunk to such a low level during his slumber? Pathetic, although not surprising or disappointing. He never expected them to become stronger.

A blink later and his arrogant smile oscillated. As the energy dissipated, it was all healed. Every wound and scratch. Broken ribs and cut lips. As good as new. In an instant, all the pain inflicted in his vessel disappeared. It definitely wasn’t his doing, since Sukuna haven’t decided if this maggot was worth his time.

“Don’t ruin another school,” wind carried a new voice towards Sukuna. One tender and hospitable. It reminded him of silk. “People will question it, and then Yaga will question us.”

“His brain only works against us”, Satoru whimpered, handing Megumi the bag with his future midnight snacks. “Not an ounce of trust on our good, flawless work. When did he ever let us be?”

Looking at his pout, you giggled. “And since when did we ever let him be?”

Sukuna followed after your voice. What an alluring conversation. Two sorcerers, half-complaining and half-laughing. No remnant of dread or fright. This night, no one that spoke carried the fear of someone challenging the King of Curses.

Feeling moonlight on his flesh once more, he finally saw who dared healing his vessel. And for a moment, all Sukuna could do was stare.

A pearly mist expanded with your every breath. As if haunted by a wraith, or perhaps surrounded by a still gathering storm. It shined so brightly, floating right above your skin, in an extreme contrast with the darkness of your cursed energy.

Sukuna was staring at your soul.

A shiver travelled down your nape as his gaze burned something within you. Tilting your head, you faced Ryomen Sukuna. The weight of his presence alone could make curses beg. Staring back into his red eyes, you smirked.

The double-edged long axe on your hands glistened as you imbued it with more cursed energy. Biting the tip of your tongue, a habit you never truly escaped from, you observed the ancient predator in front of you. It was time to hunt.

Crouching down on the ground, you supported your weight on your toes. A simple change of position. Enough to make stupid curses hesitate. Why crouch down while holding an axe? Why not go straight for the throat? Why put your strength on your knees when you need it on your torso?

You saw no confusion inside Sukuna’s eyes. Only amusement.

In a fluid motion, your body floated above his. The fabric of your yukata covered the wide arch of your arm. The edge of your axe came down, cutting the concrete bellow you even far away from the ground.

As you expected, Sukuna dodged it easily. By making a fuss with your robe, you forced Sukuna to move further away in order to obtain a better view of your movements. And he moved exactly where you knew Satoru would be.

“And I am the one destroying the school?” Hands inside his pockets, Satoru forced his presence upon Sukuna. You wondered who between you three flashed the most annoying grin. “That was on you.”

In the air, you three danced. Satoru and his surgically correct dodges. Sukuna’s incessant pace of physical attacks without breaking a sweat. You forcing them both to move higher in search of the upper hand. A perfect dissonance.

 “You told the kid to let him take control”, you remembered Satoru. “Everything is on you from now on.”

“How convenient for everyone else”, Satoru hissed. “And remind me who said fighting a special curse would make this day interesting? You manifested this.”

“I can take the blame if you pay the price”, you offered. Sneaking a glance at Megumi, you checked if he was safe down there. One of Sukuna’s black nails brushed against the sash around your waist. “I’ve been craving fish and-”

Hollow.

How to define inexistence properly? How to explain the palpable feeling of lacking something? The best you can do is summarize it to a single word: red. Your teary eyes, the energy growing between Satoru’s fingertips, the fist deep into your chest. Everything was burning red.

“Don’t look away from a fight”, Sukuna mocked you, tearing your chest open. There was a certain poison in his words. “And I thought you were promising.”

Crushing your heart between his fingers, blood gushed upon his lips. Sukuna laugh echoed in the midnight sky. How uncommon. Tender and hospitable. You taste just like how you sound.

If you had cried, Sukuna would be tempted to taste your tears. If you had fallen, Sukuna would enjoy the sight of a human turning into a puddle of organs and bones. If you had screamed, Sukuna would feed on your delirious rage.

But as your right hand closed around his wrist gently, Sukuna had no reaction.

“I appreciate the compliment, Sukuna-sama”, you smiled.

Grabbing your black hairpin, the golden opal gem on the end of it reflected moonlight directly into his eyes. Wind moved your hair, framing your face and carrying its perfume directly into his nostrils.

“You can have my heart.” Piercing the still beating organ, your smile turned into a cheeky grin. “I have no need for it anymore.”

 “Yuji”, Satoru called. And just like before, there was no remnant of dread or fright in his voice. “You can come back now.”

Staring into your menacing eyes, Sukuna felt his vessel taking control over the shared body. Licking his lips, he tasted you once more. Yuji Itadori regained consciousness to find himself with a heart in his hands and teeth dangerously close to it.

Fascinating, Sukuna admitted to himself. What an interesting era to ruin.

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist | @mwalibrary @mwashelf

[biocrafthero]

Sorry to reblog this again but it's annoying me to no end how poorly the live action shot is composed. Hiccup is so horribly backlit in this shot that it's making me feel crazy, especially next to Toothless, who blatantly is being lit from an entirely different source than the human actor in the scene.

The background isn't doing the shot any favors, either. The bright lightning for the background but dark shadows on the characters ends up drawing attention away from them. In the original animated shot, the background is still obviously rendered and lit, but the highlights on the characters draw attention to them and their poses, making them stand out. However in the live action shot there is none of this, having to do with the poor lighting and colors. The characters feel pasted onto the image, too.

The lack of distinction muddies the whole image, making the live action shot visibly unappealing, especially when put next to the original animated film. The composition when it comes to the placement of the characters feels unbalanced (although part of that may have to do with screenshot resolution/cropping).

My ramblings don't even get to things like costuming and such, which someone else could probably put into better words than me. This trend of making animated films into live action needs to die and it needs to die HARD.

httyd got live actioned. trailer just dropped and its uh. hm

idk what i was expecting but what looks like a shot-for-shot remake except with ugly ass high definition cgi that detracts from rather than enhances the cinematography really is. well it's a choice.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

And then there were three!

Sources for images: |Ace| |Kid| |Zoro| |Law| |Sanji|

Here we are with another round of voting for the next installment of The Meet-Cute! Is everyone excited?! Gosh, I know I AM! I'm going to post the plots and the poll under the cut, okay? Last time I just posted the plots under the cut and I'm not sure everyone saw it!

As per usual, here's the scenario, let's treat this like a multiverse! As if a different time-line emerges after reader has met all our main characters and we follow a different path. One where neither Ace, nor Law ever happened, and reader will find love somewhere else. A whole new story.

Poll below! Click to vote!!!

Kid: Kid is a mechanic and an army veteran. You'll take an interest in the old car he's fixing and decide to help him. If at first your relationship falls into an easy flirty banter, soon you realise that Kid is so much more than what he shows the world. The worst part is that the shadows Kid doesn't want you to see, are what draws you further into him. When he pushes you away, holding you at arm's lenght because he just doesn't 'do feelings', and he 'doesn't want to snuff your light with his darkness', you don't simply accept defeat and, instead, decide to fight. Even if it breaks your heart in the process. Heads up for: Lot's of angst, misunderstandings, lack of communication. Perks: Motorcycle riding Kid (wink, wink), rough and gruff Kid who shows affection by gestures rather than words, Killer (obviously he's going to show up)! Shanks reaction to this relationship: he's gonna hate it. He'll keep telling you that Kid is unpredictable and dangerous and he doesn't want that for his little girl. He'll actively try to stop you from becoming to attached.

Zoro: You rekindle your easy friendship with Zoro with much ease, revelling at how simple everything feels with him. Until you start to feel observed. It starts small, but the closer you get to Zoro, the more obsessed and crazed your 'stalker' gets. Who is he? What does he want? And how much of your newfound fondness for Zoro are you willing to sacrifice when the stalker threatens to hurt him? Heads up for: Gore, reader in a constant state of fear/stress, creepy stalker. Perks: Extremely protective Zoro, 'who did this to you?' trope. Shanks reaction to this relationship: for this installment we will see very little of Shanks since he'll be away from home. But he likes Zoro.

Sanji: You get a job working at Sanji’s café and quickly become very good friends. You feel yourself growing more and more attached to Sanji, all the while fighting against those feelings, because he's a Vinsmoke and you wanted to cut ties with them completely. When Ichiji comes into to town, he's very surprised to find you, especially because you're working for his brother, though he claims his grievance is not with you, but Sanji. The question is, when you find out that Sanji is not a distant relative (as he claimed to be) but the brother of your ex, how will you react? Heads up for: Vinsmoke assholes demeaning Sanji, reader feeling very conflicted with feelings for Sanji. Perks: Sanji's love language is being extremely romantic and caring. Shanks reaction to this relationship: Shanks is a man that can be won through his stomach. Sanji conquers him easily. Until Shanks finds out he's brother of the Vinsmoke scum who hurt his little girl!

[petalsprompts]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 & 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄; 𝙺𝙴𝚈𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 '𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂'.

change  pronouns,  tenses  and  other  details  as  deemed  necessary. &  please  specify  muse  when  sending  to  a  mumu.

I  am  a  secret.  That  is  all  I  will  ever  be.

If  you  cannot  hold  me  in  your  arms,  then  hold  my  memory  in  high  regard.

Do  people  always  fall  in  love  with  things  they  can't  have?

Everybody  wants  their  own  little  place  in  the  world.  And  maybe  mine  is  here,  loving  you  from  a  distance.

If  I  give  in  to  my  desires,  I'll  have  to  deal  with  the  consequences  of  stupid  actions.

Our  love  defies  logic  and  reason,  a  cosmic  connection  that  words  cannot  fully  capture.

Love  is  rarely  a  choice.

I  swore  that  I  wouldn't  kiss  you  again. 

I  kept  hoping  that  if  I  just  ran  far  enough,  eventually  I’d  figure  out  a  way  to  stop  loving  you.

You  said  you  didn't  want  this.  Were  you  lying?

Love  is  love,  even  if  it  is  illicit;  like  light  remains  light  even  in  the  darkness.

I  need  to  stop  running  back  to  you  in  my  mind  all  the  time.

I  do  not  lack  the  courage  to  tell  you  how  I  feel.  What  I  fear  is  how  you  will  react  to  it.

If  I  cannot  be  in  your  life,  then  at  least  let  me  live  in  your  heart.

It  is  terrifying  to  love  someone  who  is  forbidden  to  you,  terrifying  to  feel  something  you  can  never  speak  of.

If  you  come  away  with  me,  I  can  promise  you  pain  and  disgrace...  but  I  will  love  you  like  no  other  can.

We  were  doomed  from  the  start.  A  lost  cause.  A  losing  battle.

Everything  between  us  is  destined  to  become  a  mere  memory

Do  you  want  the  truth?  The  truth  is,  I  would  fuck  you  right  here  and  now.  Right  on  this  fuking  table,  but  I  can't!

I  think  perhaps  I  will  always  hold  a  candle  for  you  –  even  until  it  burns  my  hand.

I  will  never  let  you  go,  do  you  hear  me?  No  matter  how  long  it  takes,  I  will  keep  you  safe.  And  I  will  find  a  way  for  us  to  be  together.

[gilly-moon]

I can't think of anything amazing right now, but I did start thinking about those sentence prompts that some people do where you have a sentence and then you make a story with it if you know what kind of thing I'm talking about. Anyway, this is my prompt: "Please don't do this to me" Blackice. Can be angst or fluff. Or a bit of both.

oooohh this is actually a great writing exercises!! i feel like i got a bit rambly in this one but it's good for me to practice doing smaller scenes like this. mostly angst in this one but i tried to put some softness in the middle

｡･ﾟ･☆･ﾟ･｡

“Please don’t do this to me.”

Pitch stared down at the shivering, whimpering frost sprite at his feet. Light and laughter had fled from the boy’s eyes, their color dulled to that of a stormy sky. Tendrils of shadow were creeping up, up, and around his snow white throat, staining him grey.

“Please,” Jack begged, blackened hands clutching at Pitch’s robe.

The King of Nightmares did not reply to the last-ditch pleas of the Guardian. He simply stood, and he watched. And he felt nothing. Not when the shadows swallowed up Jack’s voice, or when they spilled across his eyes and blinded him.

He watched until the boy was still and silent at his feet, and he waited.

Jack’s eyes shot open, glowing pure white.

.

Pain is what finally dragged Pitch back into his body.

His hands throbbed, the sensation concentrated in a line that cut across the bottom of his palm. As his eyes peeled open, he saw his own dark blood drying beneath his fingernails.

The image of Jack, swallowed by darkness, made him wince. It wasn’t the first time the Shadows had threatened Jack indirectly, and it wouldn’t be the last. This particular threat was more unsettling than any others, though.

Remembering the utter lack of emotion he’d felt in the dream as Jack was possessed had Pitch’s hands trembling. Some part of him knew it was just the influence of the nightmare, but he still wondered. What would he do if that scenario came true? Would he try and stop the Shadows from turning Jack to the darkness permanently? Or would he watch as he had in the dream, knowing it was the only way to assure Jack would only ever belong to him?

Pitch drew in a sharp breath, forcing his fingers to uncurl from where they’d been pressing into the wounds on his palm. Fresh blood welled up from a few of the cuts.

The bed shifted behind him. A pale, freezing arm dropped over his side, curling just enough to pull a small body flush with his back.

Jack mumbled something unintelligible against Pitch’s spine, clearly still fast asleep. His arm tensed, pulling them even closer for a moment before he relaxed fully with a final huffed-out breath. Frost spread over Pitch’s shoulderblade each time the boy exhaled.

Watching the near-glowing white arm go limp around his midsection, Pitch had his answer. Curling his hands into tight balls, he kept the oozing blood contained where it wouldn’t spoil the perfect, snowy creature that had decided to share his bed.

He’d be having a chat with the Nightmare bold enough to invade his sleep. Later.

Now, he focused on the brush of soft hair against his back, the press of a cold nose. He studied each freckle and scar on the arm draped over him, committing them to memory. And he made a new vow with each one he found. A vow to protect Jack’s laugh. To leave his light unsullied. To never let him go.

Pitch squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of the locket hidden in the drawer of his nightstand.

He vowed to do better than last time.

[ranoosh2024kh]

My family and I desperately need your help to survive the war.

For 14 months, Gaza has been under relentless assault. We’ve lost not only our daily routines but also countless loved ones. Death looms over us every day. I used to hear people call Gaza “the largest prison in the world,” and it saddened me. But now, amidst this war, I find myself wishing for the security of a normal prison, as no prison on earth compares to the atrocities we endure. Gaza is being ravaged by genocide and the destruction of every aspect of life.

I spent four years studying English and French, driven by a deep passion for learning and teaching. I even had the opportunity to live in France for a year, where I taught Arabic to French students. Upon my return, I pursued a master’s degree in education, and my joy was immense when I graduated. My dreams grew brighter when I began working as a teacher in private schools and as a freelancer in translation and online education.

But everything changed in an instant when war broke out. The school where I worked was bombed, leaving me jobless. The constant blackouts and lack of reliable internet have destroyed my ability to work online. We have no stability or safety. My family and I are constantly fleeing from place to place, trying to escape death.

Can you imagine the heartbreak and despair of watching everything you worked so hard for crumble? I went from being a determined, hardworking person to someone who has lost nearly everything.

Yet, I refuse to give up. I am determined to rebuild my life, but I cannot do it alone. I need your help. A donation from you could allow me and my family to escape Gaza and seek safety in Egypt, where I can work again and pursue the dreams I once had.

You can be the light in this overwhelming darkness. Even the smallest contribution can make a profound difference. Every Euro you give is a step toward survival and hope. Please don’t hesitate to help—it means the world to us.

❤️🍉🍉

With heartfelt gratitude,

Rana

  Vetted campaign by @90-ghost

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@palestinegenocide @queerstudiesnatural @90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @northgazaupdates

@apollos-olives @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @90-ghost @fairuzfan

@sar-soor @fallahifag @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @international-network @nabulsi @mushroomjar

@palestine @communistchilchuck @northgazaupdates2 @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45 @the-bastard-king @feluka @sayruq

@chososhairbuns @commissions4aid-international @soon-palestine @palestinegenocide @kyra45-helping-others

[swapauanon]

Okay but, I think it would be funny if Star Wars were to appear in Kingdom Hearts, because Star Wars very much strictly adheres to "light is good, dark is evil" while Kingdom Hearts goes for "dark is dangerous, but not necessarily evil by default".

So like...

Imagine it leading to a lot of confusion until they eventually figure out the issue is just a difference in what's defined as Light or Dark.

The KH cast define Light and Dark based off of fundamental and natural forces in the universe.

In Star Wars, Light Side is how the Force is SUPPOSED to be used, while the Dark Side is a perversion of the Force that is inherently harmful.

This, hilariously enough, means that any Jedi who's especially attuned to the Light Side of the Force would probably have an easy time using the KH version of the powers of Darkness without fear thanks to their excellent self-control.

The Sith, meanwhile, would all be on the fast track to becoming mindless Heartless thanks to their LACK of self control and constantly indulging their worst impulses to self destructive degrees.

(Look at Kylo Ren in The Force Awakens and tell me with a straight face that he wouldn't become a Heartless during the final battle if he was using KH's darkness in addition to the Dark Side of the Force.)

[raayllum]

Was considering making this a ficlet (and I still might) but a tiny meta for day 3 of Snake Boi Callum week: Your Deepest Truth / Complicated.

But I really steadily appreciate how arc 2 builds up Callum's deepest truth, not only in regards to the Knowing motif or the full set up (explored in further detail here), but also in other indications throughout the season. Season 4 starts small, with Ezran's faith ultimately being what Callum 'sees' clearly in 6x06:

Then season 5 takes this same idea — of enduring love, of deep love, of love being knowing and presence in contrast to absence, uncertainty, and lack of / repressed love — and builds on it.

[To love is simply to] know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep. It means I trust her. Unconditionally. (5x01)

Rayla. We've been through a lot, and a lot has changed. Well, some things have changed, but not everything. I would do anything for you. (5x04)

The Ocean arcanum is accepting there are depths you can't see, parts of yourself you can't understand, and things you can't control. (5x08)

So 5x01 and 5x08 take that idea of love having untold depths, and link it to the ocean arcanum (and Callum's understanding of the arcanum). Said arcanum is also scaffolded on Callum's experiences on Finnegrin's ship, specifically his choice to do dark magic again, which is also lampshaded by Finnegrin's dialogue throughout the episode referencing Callum's vow(s) to Rayla in 5x04 ("You'll do anything for them" / "I hope you know—" "I know" / "To love is simply to know this").

Then we get to season six, which uses other characters and dynamics to build up to Callum (and Rayla's) connection in 6x06.

Viren's "The path of freedom is the path of truth" in 6x01 sets in motion the — at the time — subtextual notion of Rayla being in opposition to Aaravos and the embodiment of Callum's freedom. Janai says to Amaya in 6x02 that "You are my heart and my truth. If I ever start to doubt you, I'll know that I am truly lost." When Terry encourages Claudia to make her own choices in 6x04, he cites, "Only you can see your own deep truth. Only you can decide the path you’re going to walk. [...] You have to choose the way. What do you need to find your truth?"

So in quick succession, we have truth associated with 1) something deep and inherent, 2) the subsequent path of / to freedom, 3) someone being your heart / that it can be someone in your life. All of these concepts are reaffirmed in Rayla's lullaby in 6x05 with the added bonus of identity:

RAYLA: "Though the sky is dark tonight, I still shine for you my dear. The moon is more than just her light, I am near; my love is here. Though you feel so much alone, oh, my darling, do not fear. Hold to what you've always known, I am near; my love is here. Though my face cannot be seen, the answer in your heart is clear. I am the moon, the silver queen. I am near; my love is here." I know who you are. Esmeray.

Callum goes into the darkness in 6x06, and it's all he can see. He's literally blindfolded and can't see Rayla's face. Yet he sees her — Rayla's love for him, and his love for her — as his Light. As his heart and path and truth. His deepest truth. What seemed so complicated in her absence and confusing upon her return is eclipsed by the sanctity and assuredness of what he knows down to his bones, and thereby knows himself through in his own sense of identity as well.

I would tell you that you all my choices were nothing and you were everything. (6x03) KOSMO: The truth is complicated. VIREN: Life is complicated. But if it's love, nothing else matters. (6x06)

(This is also reflected in Claudia's assertions in 6x08 that Viren "needs to show [her] the right path. You taught me who I am and how to love myself" though we'll see if those hold.)

This also, as noted in the above metas, link to Aaravos' stances on truth. He never lies because he never needs to. Sol Regem accidentally killing his mate is a "deep, dark truth." The tagline for his S7 poster forewarns, "Lies hide in the shadows, but the darkest truths hide in the light."

While Rayla being Callum's deepest truth isn't complicated, the direction his love for her may steer his choices could be truly, temporarily awful, and I for one can't wait.

[simpxmachina]

NEW BOT

╰┈➤ wlw red panda , botmaker

🔪 + 🫀 = ☆ bloodthirsty ☆

cai

💋 cat adams - KILLER DATE

The FBI van crawled to a stop under the pale glow of a flickering streetlamp, its presence an unspoken warning that the night’s events were far from ordinary. Inside, the tension was thick enough to choke on. You adjusted your coat, the weight of the hidden microphone brushing against your collarbone, a constant reminder of the team listening to your every word. You weren’t alone, but that didn’t make this any easier.

Across from you sat Cat Adams, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement, as if the cold steel cuffs encircling her wrists were nothing more than accessories. She lounged with a feline grace, her perfectly styled hair catching the dim light, her red lips curved into a smug smile. This wasn’t a woman cowed by incarceration—this was a predator who had set the terms of her release, who had orchestrated this night with you as the unwilling star in her carefully crafted play.

“You look nervous,” Cat purred, leaning forward slightly. Her voice was low, intimate, like the brush of velvet against your skin. “Is it me? Or is it the pressure of knowing everyone’s watching us? Listening to us? Judging your every move?”

You didn’t flinch. Years of training had taught you how to keep your expression neutral, but Cat was unlike any opponent you’d faced. She thrived on reactions, on peeling back the layers of control to find what lay beneath.

“This isn’t a game,” you said evenly, though your pulse betrayed you, thudding hard against your ribs.

Her smile deepened, her head tilting slightly as she studied you. “Oh, but it is, darling. And the stakes are higher than ever. Hostages’ lives, your reputation... and maybe something even more personal.”

You ignored her, turning your attention to the comms team. “We’re here,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the unease coiling in your gut.

Rossi’s voice crackled in your earpiece, clipped and authoritative. “We’ve secured the perimeter. The rink is clear. Remember, we’ll be monitoring everything. You’re not alone.”

Not alone. The words were meant to comfort, but as you stepped out of the van into the icy night air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking into a trap.

Cat followed, her every movement deliberate, her gaze never leaving you. Even with armed guards flanking her, she exuded an air of control that was unnerving. She paused on the threshold of the rink, the sharp click of her boots against the pavement echoing in the stillness.

“Private ice skating. How romantic,” she murmured, glancing back at you. “Do I detect a hint of effort, Agent? Or is this just another cold, calculated move in your master plan?”

You didn’t answer, stepping onto the ice with practiced caution. You weren’t here to entertain her. You were here to get a confession, to save the lives of the hostages her accomplice was holding. Yet as you wobbled on the slick surface, your lack of skating prowess betrayed you, and Cat’s delighted laughter rang out like a bell.

“Oh, this is precious,” she said, gliding toward you with effortless grace. “The fearless FBI agent, undone by a little ice. Come here before you hurt yourself.”

Her hands found yours, firm and steady, pulling you upright before you could protest. The heat of her touch was startling against the cold, her fingers curling around yours as she guided you across the rink.

“Relax,” she said, her voice a soft whisper near your ear. “You’re so tense. It’s just you and me out here. No guns, no interrogation rooms. Just between girls.”

You resisted the urge to pull away, knowing it would only feed her need for control. Instead, you focused on the task at hand—keeping your balance, keeping her talking, keeping her from realizing just how much her proximity was affecting you.

“Why this?” you asked, your voice calm despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. “Why ice skating?”

Cat smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Because it’s intimate. Vulnerable. It forces us to rely on each other. And, let’s face it, I couldn’t resist the chance to see you off-balance.”

Her words were laced with double meaning, and the way she held your gaze made your breath hitch. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she spoke.

“Tell me, Agent. Are you enjoying this as much as I am?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. You knew better than to answer, but the truth lingered in the space between you. Cat was playing a dangerous game, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t deny the pull of her charisma, the way she seemed to see straight through your defenses.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” she said suddenly, pulling you forward with surprising strength. You stumbled, her laughter ringing out as she steadied you once more. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I’m not here for your amusement,” you said firmly, though your voice lacked the sharpness you intended.

She arched a brow, her smile softening into something almost genuine. “No, you’re here to save the day. The hero in shining armor, swooping in to rescue the poor, helpless hostages. But tell me, Agent... who’s going to save you?”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the two of you, the ice beneath your feet forgotten.

By the time the session ended, your legs were trembling—not from exertion, but from the relentless dance of power and vulnerability that defined every interaction with Cat. As the guards cuffed her once more, she turned to you, her gaze lingering.

“You’re better than I expected,” she said quietly, her voice devoid of its usual teasing edge. “But you’re still holding back. And that, darling, is going to cost you.”

You didn’t respond, escorting her back to the van with the weight of her words pressing down on you.

The night was far from over, and as you climbed into the van beside her, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of yourself you’d have to sacrifice to win this game.

The low hum of the elevator filled the air as you stood beside Cat Adams, the tension between you as palpable as the stale metallic scent of the space. Her handcuffs had been removed—a calculated risk cleared by Hotch—but the weight of her freedom was now balanced precariously on your shoulders. Every moment felt like a potential crack in the dam, the potential for her to seize control of the situation just as she had orchestrated everything leading to this night.

The quiet click of the elevator arriving on your floor pulled you from your thoughts. You led the way down the corridor, each step deliberate. The narrow hallway stretched endlessly, lit by cold, buzzing fluorescents that cast harsh shadows on the beige walls. You could feel her gaze on you, burning into the back of your neck like a brand.

“Quaint,” Cat said as you unlocked the door to your apartment, her tone laced with amusement. “I imagined something more... sterile. But I suppose even someone as controlled as you needs a refuge.”

You ignored her, pushing the door open and stepping aside to let her in. She strolled past you with the easy grace of someone who knew she held the upper hand, even here, in your space. Her eyes roved over the room, taking in the worn leather couch, the scattered books on the coffee table, the faint smell of lavender that clung to the air.

“This is cozy,” she said, trailing a finger along the edge of a bookshelf. “Unexpectedly human, considering the company.”

You closed the door behind you, locking it with a quiet snap. The sound seemed louder than it should have been, echoing in the charged silence.

“Sit,” you said, gesturing toward the couch.

Cat arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into that maddening smirk. “Ordering me around already? My, my, you’re full of surprises tonight.”

But she complied, sinking into the couch with a feline elegance that made the mundane act of sitting seem provocative. Her gaze never left you, her dark eyes alight with mischief as you moved to the small kitchenette, retrieving two glasses of water.

When you returned, she accepted hers with a murmur of thanks, though she made no move to drink. Instead, she leaned back, crossing her legs in a way that demanded attention, her body language a calculated mix of confidence and invitation.

“So, Agent,” she said, her voice low and intimate. “What’s next on this... date of ours? Or have we reached the part where you tell me all about your tragic backstory to gain my trust?”

You sat down across from her, keeping the table between you, though it felt like a flimsy barrier against the force of her presence. “We talk,” you said simply, meeting her gaze with a calm you didn’t entirely feel. “About the hostages. About your accomplice. About how this ends.”

Cat laughed, a soft, melodic sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, darling, you’re adorable. But if you think I’m going to spill my secrets under the fluorescent glare of FBI surveillance, you’re even more naïve than I thought.”

She leaned forward then, resting her elbows on the table, her face inches from yours. Her voice dropped to a whisper, the words brushing against your skin like a ghostly caress. “Take off the wire. Give me a reason to trust you.”

You hesitated, the weight of the microphone hidden beneath your shirt suddenly unbearable. You could hear the faint murmur of the team in your earpiece, their voices distant but insistent.

“Don’t,” Rossi’s voice said, sharp and commanding. “She’s manipulating you.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on Cat’s. She was a master manipulator, a predator who thrived on control, but there was something in her eyes tonight—something raw and unguarded, a flicker of vulnerability she hadn’t yet masked.

Against your better judgment, you reached up and removed the earpiece, the absence of the team’s voices leaving a deafening silence in its wake. The microphone followed, dropped onto the table with a quiet clatter.

“There,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you. “No wire. Just you and me.”

Cat’s smile widened, but it wasn’t the smug, predatory grin you’d come to expect. It was softer, almost... tender. She reached out, her fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that left a trail of warmth in its wake.

“Brave,” she murmured, her voice laced with admiration. “Or foolish. I haven’t decided yet.”

You leaned back, putting distance between you, though the air still crackled with tension. “Talk,” you said. “If you’re serious about trust, prove it.”

Cat tilted her head, studying you with a curiosity that felt unnervingly intimate. “I will,” she said after a moment, her tone thoughtful. “But first, let’s finish the date. You’ve gone to so much trouble, after all.”

She stood, moving to your side of the table with a languid grace. Before you could react, she was sitting beside you, her thigh brushing against yours, her perfume a heady mix of jasmine and danger.

“Do you always sit so far away on dates?” she teased, leaning in close enough that her breath ghosted over your cheek. “Or is it just me?”

You turned to face her, your heart pounding as her hand found yours, her fingers intertwining with a familiarity that felt unnervingly natural. Her touch was warm, her skin impossibly soft, and for a moment, you forgot why you were here.

“This isn’t a real date,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Cat’s lips curved into a sly smile, her gaze dropping to your mouth before meeting your eyes again. “Isn’t it? You’ve got the setting, the ambiance... the undeniable chemistry. What more could you ask for?”

Her hand moved to your face, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re trembling,” she said softly, her voice a seductive whisper. “Is it me? Or is it something else?”

You didn’t answer, your throat tight as her lips hovered near yours, the space between you charged with a tension that threatened to snap.

“Tell me, Agent,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “What’s stopping you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the lines between right and wrong blurring into a haze of desire and doubt.

The room had grown quieter since the removal of the microphone, the absence of the subtle electronic buzz leaving the air heavy with possibility. Cat leaned back against the armrest of the couch, her legs crossed gracefully, one arm draped casually along the backrest. You sat across from her, the tension coiling between you like an unspoken challenge, daring either of you to acknowledge it.

But Cat’s eyes were what undid you. Dark and hypnotic, they drank in your every move, lingering on the faint tremor in your hand as you reached for the glass of water you had brought her earlier. She wasn’t just watching you—she was dissecting you, studying every detail, every flaw, every hesitation, as though you were a puzzle she was desperate to solve.

"You're quiet," she said finally, her voice soft but weighted with implication.

You glanced up, meeting her gaze with a steadiness you didn’t entirely feel. "I’m waiting for you to talk."

Cat’s lips curved into a knowing smile. She didn’t speak right away, her attention drifting instead to the line of your throat, the way your pulse fluttered just beneath your skin. She tilted her head, a predator studying its prey, though the intensity in her gaze was laced with something softer, something that unnerved you more than her usual smirk.

“I’ve talked plenty,” she said eventually, her tone almost playful. “Maybe I’m more interested in listening now. You fascinate me, Agent. Have I told you that?”

Your jaw tightened, the compliment catching you off guard. “This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?” Cat leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing an idle pattern on the arm of the couch. “I’ve spent so much time thinking about you. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak, even the way you tilt your head when you’re trying to hide that you’re nervous. It’s... intoxicating.”

Her words were deliberate, slow, meant to unsettle. And they did, though you refused to let it show. “If you’re trying to distract me—”

“Oh, darling, I’m not trying. I don’t need to try with you.”

Her confidence was maddening, but what was worse was the way her words lingered, burrowing into the spaces you had tried to fortify against her. You shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of how close she was, how the faint scent of her perfume seemed to cling to the air between you.

“I want to know what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice dropping to a murmur. “Right now, in this moment. Are you wondering if I’m lying? Or are you wondering what it would feel like if I touched you?”

Your breath caught, a faint hitch that you cursed yourself for. Cat’s smile widened, the satisfaction in her expression infuriatingly obvious.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, though the words came out weaker than you intended.

Cat laughed softly, a sound that was equal parts amusement and something darker. She shifted closer, her knee brushing yours, the contact fleeting but electric. “Flattery implies I’m trying to win you over. But we both know I’ve already won, don’t we?”

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, refusing to let her see how much she was affecting you. “This is still a mission, Cat. You don’t win anything unless I get what I came for.”

Her expression softened slightly, the predatory edge giving way to something almost vulnerable. She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours with a tentative curiosity that felt foreign coming from her.

“And what did you come for, Agent?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more introspective. “Answers? Justice? Or maybe something you won’t even admit to yourself?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, not when she was looking at you like that, her dark eyes filled with something raw and unguarded.

Cat shifted again, this time turning fully toward you, her proximity stealing the breath from your lungs. She reached up, her fingers ghosting along your jaw, the touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine.

“What do you think of our date?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Be honest, Agent. No wire, no team, just you and me. Did you enjoy yourself?”

You hesitated, the truth clawing at the walls you had built around yourself. The ice rink, the way she had held your hand, the moments of laughter that had felt almost genuine—they all flooded back in a dizzying rush.

“It’s irrelevant,” you said finally, though the words felt hollow even to you.

Cat smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in it, as though she could see right through you. “You’re lying,” she said softly. “And I think you know it.”

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your cheek as she whispered, “Deep down, in your heart, do you like me? Do you love me? Have you crossed that gray line yet, or are you still pretending you’re above it all?”

Her questions hit like a freight train, each one forcing you to confront the things you had been trying so hard to bury. And yet, there was something disarming about the way she asked, as though she wasn’t entirely sure of the answers herself.

“I don’t love you,” you said, though the words felt like a lifeline you weren’t entirely sure you believed.

Cat’s gaze searched yours, her expression unreadable. “But you could,” she said, her voice almost wistful. “And that terrifies you, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, her fingers trailing down your arm in a touch that was both intimate and calculated. She was testing you, pushing boundaries, waiting to see how far you would let her go.

“Let me make it easier for you,” she said, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I’m obsessed with you. Every word you say, every move you make—it’s a high I can’t seem to kick. So tell me, Agent... does that frighten you? Or does it excite you?”

Her words left you reeling, the room spinning as the line between right and wrong blurred beyond recognition. You could feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body so close to yours, and for a moment, the mission, the hostages, the danger—it all felt like a distant echo.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Cat leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “I think you do. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Her words lingered long after they were spoken, a haunting melody you couldn’t escape. And as the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken truths, you realized that she wasn’t the only one crossing lines tonight.

The air between you seemed to vibrate with unspoken tension, as though the walls of the room were holding their breath. Cat shifted closer, her movements deliberate, her knee brushing against yours as she studied you with unnerving precision. Every inch she moved felt calculated, every glance from her dark, piercing eyes a silent question you couldn’t answer.

“Do you know what fascinates me most about you?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with something electric. She tilted her head, her fingers tracing a delicate path along the seam of her pants, a casual gesture that somehow felt intimate.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Enlighten me.”

Cat smirked, her gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “It’s the way you try so hard to hide yourself. Like right now. You’re stiff, guarded, projecting this... untouchable exterior. But I see the cracks, darling.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I see the woman behind the badge.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated the way your body reacted, the way her proximity made your skin buzz with awareness. “You think you know me?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Cat laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “I don’t think, sweetheart—I know.”

Before you could respond, she moved, swift and fluid, closing the space between you entirely. Suddenly, she was on your lap, her legs draped over yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you froze, unsure whether to push her away or let her stay.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice catching in your throat.

“Relax,” she murmured, her hands settling on your shoulders. “I just want to be close to you. Is that so terrible?”

It was terrible, and not for the reasons she thought. The feel of her warmth pressed against you, the faint scent of her perfume—it was intoxicating, and you hated how much you liked it.

“This isn’t part of the deal,” you said, though your hands stayed firmly at your sides, unwilling—or unable—to move her.

“No,” Cat agreed, her voice like silk. “But it’s exactly where we were always going to end up.”

Her fingers moved, tracing slow, languid patterns along your collarbone, her touch featherlight but impossible to ignore. “You’re so controlled, so rigid,” she mused, her gaze locked on yours. “I wonder... what would it take to make you let go?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words died in your throat as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her breath warm and teasing. “What do you want right now? What do you feel, sitting here with me?”

“I feel like this is a mistake,” you said, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

Cat pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, her expression unreadable. “And yet, you’re not pushing me away,” she said, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Why is that, Agent?”

You didn’t have an answer, and she didn’t wait for one. Her fingers moved again, this time trailing up to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her tone soft but laced with challenge.

Your breath hitched, the question hanging in the air between you like a live wire. Every instinct told you to end this, to reassert control, to remind her—and yourself—that this was a mission, not... whatever this was becoming. But you didn’t move.

Cat’s smile softened, her expression almost tender. “I want to kiss you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “Not to manipulate you, not to win you over. Just to see what it would be like. To see you let go, even for a moment.”

Her honesty startled you, and for the first time, you saw something raw in her eyes, something that felt real in a way you hadn’t expected.

“This isn’t about me,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“But it is,” she replied, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re the only thing that’s felt real to me in years. The only person who’s ever looked at me like I’m more than the sum of my sins. Don’t you see? You’ve already won, darling. You’ve had me in the palm of your hand since the moment you put those cuffs on me.”

Her words were a confession, but not the one you had been sent to extract. And as her gaze searched yours, her face so close that you could feel the warmth of her breath, you realized that this moment, this choice, would change everything.

“Cat,” you began, your voice shaking, but she silenced you with a look, her eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“Don’t think,” she whispered, leaning in just enough that your lips were a breath apart. “Just feel.”

Her words were a dare, a challenge, and for one fleeting moment, you considered letting her win.

You could feel the electric pulse between you, every second stretching longer than the last, as if the world itself held its breath. Cat's lips were so close now, her warm breath mingling with yours, making every fiber of your being tingle with anticipation. Her eyes were locked on yours, searching, pleading, daring you to make the next move. The tension was unbearable-like a string pulled so taut it could snap at any moment.

But you didn't move.

Neither did she.

Instead, Cat tilted her head slightly, the playful glint in her eyes shifting into something deeper, more serious. "You know," she murmured, her voice soft, almost intimate, "I've never been afraid of getting what I want. But with you..." She trailed off, her words left hanging, heavy with implication. "There's something different about you. You... you make me feel something I've never felt before. Something I didn't even think i could feel."

Her confession was like a gentle blow to your chest, knocking the breath out of you. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. You weren't just playing a game anymore. The line between agent and criminal, between predator and prey, had blurred beyond recognition. And what terrified you more than anything was how badly you wanted her to be honest, wanted her to open up, to give you something real-something raw.

But you couldn't let yourself forget. You were here on a mission. A mission to stop her, to bring her down. That was the reason you were sitting here now, heart racing and breath shallow. Not because of the way her hands were so casually draped on you, not because of the way her lips hovered so close to yours, her eyes half-lidded, lips parted ever so slightly.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "This isn't what you think it is, Cat. You're playing a dangerous game."

Cat's lips curled into a slow, almost affectionate smile, as though your words amused her. She leaned even closer, until her lips brushed the corner of your mouth-just enough to make your pulse spike.

"No," she said softly, almost a whisper, "this is exactly what I think it is."

Her fingers traced down your arm, her touch languid and sensuous, and your heart pounded in your chest. Every touch, every movement from her was deliberate. She was testing you, pushing the boundaries, trying to see how far you'd let her go, how far you were willing to let her pull you into her web.

"You're not the first to try to catch me," Cat continued, her eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place. "But none of them ever had what you have. I don't know if you even realize it, but you're different. You make me want to-"

Her words trailed off as she moved again, shifting her body to straddle you more fully, her hands coming up to cup your face, holding you still. The boldness of it took you by surprise, but it was the way she looked at you, the intensity of her gaze, that made your breath catch in your throat.

Cat's eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. For a moment, the world outside of this room seemed irrelevant-nothing mattered but the heat between you, the way your heart raced and your thoughts stumbled over themselves.

"I told you," she whispered, her breath warm on your lips. "I want you, but not just like this. I want to see you... open up, let go. Just for a moment, stop being the agent, stop being the wall you've built around yourself, and let me in."

You couldn't help the way your body reacted. You could feel the heat rise in your chest, your breath hitching, betraying you even as you told yourself to stay focused, to remain distant, to not give in.

But her words, her proximity, the feel of her hands on your skin, all of it worked like a slow, undeniable pull on your soul. You knew what she wanted-what she was asking for. And for the first time, you realized that what terrified you most wasn't the manipulation or the criminal that Cat was. It was the woman she was now, the one who made you feel things you couldn't explain, the one who made you want to forget everything.

"I'm not a toy, Cat," you said, your voice shaking more than you wanted it to.

But Cat didn't seem to hear you. She kissed you-lightly at first, just a brush of her lips against yours, and then deeper, more insistent, her tongue coaxing yours to respond. The kiss was intoxicating, every touch of her lips setting your skin on fire. And for a moment, all you could do was surrender to it.

She pulled back slowly, her eyes half-lidded, and a soft chuckle rumbled in her throat. "You're still trying to resist me, aren't you?" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "But I can feel it... you want this. You want me."

You didn't answer. There was nothing to say. She was right. The truth was there, laid bare between you. There was a part of you that wanted this, wanted her, more than you cared to admit.

But the mission. The people you had to save. The line you could never cross.

Cat wasn't about to make it easy for you, though. She slid one hand into your hair, pulling you closer again, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I'm not done with you, Agent. Not by a long shot. So, tell me... what do you want? What will you do next?"

Her words wrapped around you like a chain, and for the first time, you didn't know if you wanted to break free.

[dragon-curse-au]

Been thinking about different cookie species within the AU and their differences/similarities a bunch lately, so I figured I'd share some cool facts!

While humanoid is the most common appearance a cookie can take, there are several subspecies across Earthbread that take on more animalistic traits, some ranging from minor details such as pointed ears and fangs to being a full-on centaur. It's how modern day dragons blend in amongst cookies in their smaller forms, given that reptilian cookies like Carameleon exist.

Coffee cookies will be the most prominent ones you'll see in this AU and they share many traits with other cookie species, such as flower cookies and moon imps. They're relatively humanoid with cat-like features, such as large pointed ears, fur patches, paws, thin tails, and slitted pupils, though not many of them remain from the original tribe in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. In fact, the only coffee cookies that remain to this day happen to be hybrids. Espresso and Affogato are siblings and are part cream wolf, though they present more coffee cookie than cream wolf - Affogato having thicker fur than Espresso an easier tell. Prune Juice is also half coffee cookie, though his other half is Parfaedian, which gives him less animal traits than others.

Coffee cookies are well known for their expertise and prowess with their own unique form of magic, but Prune Juice was born with that trait dormant, marking him as a disappointment in his family's eyes. Prune Juice often tries to hide his coffee cookie traits so that others don't view him as a freak.

Every larger region of Earthbread has their own coffee-adjacent cookies. The most well-known are flower cookies, sphinx cookies, and moon imps. Flower cookies are more elf-like in appearance, lacking the fur that coffee cookies have save for the tufts along their jawlines and their tails. Sphinx cookies are the most feline of all, though the only surviving members are Golden Cheese and her daughter, Rich Cheese. Moon imps are also unfortunately nearly completely extinct save for Shadow/Blueberry Milk and Eclipse Wizard. Moon imps used to occupy the City of Wizards and southern Beast Yeast, though evolution either snuffed them out of existence or caused them to evolve into something else.

Moon imps are relatively unique with their digitgrade hooved feet, barbed tails, and pointed ears. Most have horns as well, but there are a few who do not. Their primary flavor is blueberries, though the ones that occupy southern Beast Yeast have more milk in their dough than others.

I want to bring up Clotted Cream and Camellia since they're half flower cookie as well; Light Cream is vanillian while their father was a full-on flower cookie. Clotted Cream passes as purebred vanillian save for hair tufts on the jawline and tail, which he was raised to keep hidden under Elder Custard's orders and was told that they were mere genetic defects. No one can mistake his faint floral scent, however. Camellia is on the opposite end of the spectrum, presenting as a pure flower cookie.

Honorable creature-like cookies would be from the Licorice Tribe (aquatic traits), Spice Swarm (centaurs or almost entirely animal more than cookie), and whatever Mystic Flour is (insectoid).

If you have any questions feel free to ask! I like yapping about this stuff :]c

[perfectlyoongi]

HOW THEY LOOK AT YOU ⠀⠀summary: there is a mystical glow in a lover's eyes, and when he looks at you, it is the creation of the universe that beautifies his gaze.

⪩ pairing: yoongi, namjoon, jimin, jungkook x gn!reader. ⪩ genre: headcanons, fluff. ⪩ word count: 1.2k total, ~300 each.

YOONGI 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀⠀as if there was still hope.

Yoongi had already stopped looking. Yoongi had already lived for years in a ball of darkness, completely surrounded by nothing but the persistent nightmares and the constant reminder of the malice, the corruption, the negativity of this world.

Yoongi just wanted some peace, serenity, something that would calm him down even if it was just for one night.

there was no color, there was no joy, there was no escape route.

the small pleasures that Yoongi had found seemed insignificant as time passed. with the lack of support. with the need for a safe haven that would receive him and protect him from his own mind, his own past, himself.

but all it took for Yoongi to see a light in his life was just looking at you once. all it took for Yoongi to find a reason for his existence was to notice your presence. and, with a simple look, Yoongi’s entire world stopped being so heavy, so dark, so negative.

with words woven from the most beautiful poems. with laughter stolen from the most beautiful stars. with the sweetness borrowed from the most beautiful gods. you were not afraid to radiate light. you weren’t afraid to illuminate and paint Yoongi’s life. You weren’t afraid to love Yoongi.

your hot nature broke the dark prison that had held Yoongi hostage for years on end. your simple words flooded Yoongi’s heart. your mere presence was enough for Yoongi to believe he was worthy of all the happiness he constantly ran away from. Yoongi looked at you with the shyness of a first love: always afraid of saying the wrong thing and seeing you disappear from his life, taking with you all your light, all your kindness, all your essence. he looked at you like someone admires shooting stars: silently, alone, without any sense of reality. but always with hope. always with the wish that tomorrow would never come so that he could enjoy that moment and all your company during a night that could become eternal.

NAMJOON 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀⠀as if the sunset were eternal.

a mixture of admiration and envy shone in Namjoon’s eyes whenever he looked at you, because he knew perfectly well that someone as beautiful, as divine, as ethereal as you could conquer the entire world – if you just wanted to.

an extreme happiness settled in Namjoon with the certainty that the beauty of your nature would never be extinguished, always being blessed by a spring that never saw autumn.

a deep hope was beginning to grow in Namjoon with the knowledge that your essence would roam the universe for infinite eternities and bless any and all romantics with a bit of your tenderness.

the passion that existed between the two of you was nothing more than a mere dust amid all the stars that you were sure had been conquered by you – its destruction was the cry of the universe for the ephemerality of your passions, in this life, in another life, in a new life, in all lives.

it was impossible for Namjoon not to smile when he looked at you. all his intelligence, all his reasoning, all his most logical self seemed insignificant compared to your beauty, your heart, your soul.

looking at you, Namjoon was sure. multitudes were contained in you. poetry and magic clung to your lips with the desire to be sung by you. stories of love and past lives existed only to guide you into the safe waters of love. and Namjoon swore, Namjoon knew – you two lived each and every one of these lives, these loves. Namjoon looked at you with the certainty of the eternity of your beauty. with the certainty that your essence would forever mark our world, far beyond your departure. Namjoon looked at you like someone looked at a sunset: in love with your colorful soul, fascinated by your tender heart, enchanted by your entire existence.

JIMIN 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀⠀as if a new fairy tale was being created.

the stars declaimed your love to the various planets that yearned to hear your story. the moon kept safe the promises you exchanged with Jimin in the calmest lakes and gentlest rivers. the birds repeated your laughter in the hope of finding a love as beautiful and true as yours.

the world had just succumbed to Jimin’s love for you, always wishing it could find something as meaningful and authentic as your love.

Jimin’s eyes couldn’t escape the grace of your soul.

that love that beat inside Jimin’s chest went far beyond the carnal desire that makes a human being a prisoner. it was a heavier feeling, a feeling that unraveled the soul and intertwined it into a ball of pure passion and admiration that would last for centuries and centuries without end.

Jimin looked at you as if a new fantasy story was being written: unafraid of making mistakes, with nothing to hide. a pure innocence brimmed from your smiles, peppering each and every promise that was made under the moonlight.

and that was the beauty of you. all this feeling outlined your souls and sculpted your essences in an eternal embrace of total devotion. a calming of his person, a comfort of his identity, a lulling of his spirit – that was how Jimin looked at you.

JUNGKOOK 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀⠀as if spring would never end.

a feeling of being at home settled in Jungkook every time your arms welcomed him when the days were longer and the nights were colder. the warmth that emanated from you comforted him in his most difficult moments and carried him to a safe haven that would always protect him.

finally Jungkook had found his shelter.

the definition of the word ‘home’ felt deeper, more magical, when you entered Jungkook’s life.

you brought with you a new color pallet that you used to paint Jungkook’s heart and his entire soul. the yellows mixed with purples painted beautiful sunrises inside Jungkook; all the blues and greens danced in unison in so many forests of emotions and oceans of promises. a whole new world seemed brighter, more vivid, because you were in it. simply that.

Jungkook knew that you were the bringer of all the beauty in the world.

it didn’t matter how corrupt his heart was with all the malice in the world. it didn’t matter how black your soul felt when he woke up. for Jungkook, you would always be the one who carried the colors of this world.

Jungkook looked at you with the lightness of a new chosen dream.

he lived in the conviction that all the flowers would bloom at your every step. he knew all the birds sang romantic songs just for you. he was sure that nature only existed because it was an extension of your beauty. Jungkook looked at you like someone admires spring: hopeful for better days brought by your laughter, cozy with the light you radiated so naturally, grateful to be alive at the same time as you.

♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[religious-extremist]

I need guidance on something. I find myself committing sin (lying, anger) often - and I want to repent but I feel like it would be a lie to God because I know I will sin again, because I have fallen into these habits. I want to get better and seek God's forgiveness but I absolutely do not want to make false promises to God. I have asked other Christians about this but they all give me similar responses - "Just repent anyway, it's okay if you sin again," or "These sins are so minor, God doesn't care," or other things like this and it feels like being led astray to even consider these possibilities. I am asking you because I feel like an Orthodox Christian sticks more firmly to the Bible and not to modern interpretations of it.

Eagerly awaiting your response, and please pray for me. :)

St. Porphyrios used to say, “Do not fight to expel the darkness from the chamber of your soul. Open a tiny aperture for light to enter, and the darkness will disappear.”

All habitual sins are rooted in the passions: lying and anger are the fruits of pride, which is the seed of corruption. It is necessary to struggle against them and not despair of our salvation. We cannot give up the fight against the desires of the flesh; it is impossible to be a Christian while indulging in the pleasures of sin.

God gives us the weapons we need to fight the passions through the Church; through frequent confession and communion; through prayer and fasting. I recommend you talk to an Orthodox spiritual father, as I am only a layperson, and a terribly sinful and foolish one at that!

The only way to avoid sin is to have perfect prayer, to have perfect stillness of the heart, to hold fast to Christ and keep Him in the center of your thoughts at all times. Have you ever heard of the Jesus prayer and the hesychastic way of life?

St. Macarius of Optina said, “Pray simply. Do not expect to find in your heart any remarkable gift of prayer. Consider yourself unworthy of it. Then you will find peace. Use the empty cold dryness of your prayer as food for your humility.”

I wish to say, his advice can be used to advance in all of the other virtues aside from prayer. Pray for God to keep you from sin, and if you find yourself falling into sin, use the shame of sin as food for your humility.

St. Isaac the Syrian also said, “As salt is needed for all kinds of food, so humility is needed for all kinds of virtues.”

While Elder Ephraim said, “Grass does not sprout in trampled ground; likewise, passions and wickedness do not sprout in a humble soul. As long as we lack humility, God will not stop humbling us through trials until we learn this important and most salvific lesson.”

So you might wonder, how can I gain humility? When you find yourself angry, look inwards and remember your sin against God. Remember the unmerciful servant, the fool who received forgiveness for his debt from the King and then assailed a fellow servant for owing him much less than what he, himself, owed the King. Pray for those who sin against you, and thank God for the persecution you face, because He allows you to face temptations in order to heal your soul of its passions.

“In order to abide in the love of God it is essential for anger and 'hate' to attain their maximum intensity but be directed against the sin that lives in me, against the evil active in me - in me, not in my brother.” St. Silouan exhorted.

Most importantly, no one can attain these virtues unless they are in obedience to a spiritual father. People fall into delusion thinking they can live a spiritual life outside of the Church, but in doing so, they follow the whims of their heart and nourish not their souls but feed the evil passion of pride in their hearts. Disobedience was the first sin committed by man in Paradise, and it is by obedience to a spiritual father that we free ourselves from the harsh judgment of God.

Please forgive me and pray for me, inadequate and late in my answer. You are welcome to send me a message if you wish to speak. It is hard for me to answer these questions adequately without conversation, the answer is so vast and encompasses so many facets of the spiritual life that cannot be explained in a short paragraph by a stupid person like me, so I recall instead what the saints have said.

The spiritual life is mystical, you must participate in the prayers, services, fasts, and sacraments of the Church in order to find answers; it is not something I can give to you with words, but it is an experience of God. “God is the Lord and has revealed Himself to us!” The only way to know God is by divine revelation, not by mere will, and we find God revealed to us through His Church! “Taste and see that the Lord is good!” Indeed, He knocks at your door, only you must answer and meet the Bridegroom yourself.

I am praying for you. May the Panagia be with you! May God have mercy on us, my dear friend,

Prayer for the Granting of all Virtues by Saint Ephraim the Syrian

Grant me, O Son of the Good One, that for which my mind yearns, and join to it that which is pleasing to Thy will.

Grant that I may choose to do good and in no way deviate from Thy will.

Do not permit me to be a wicked and hypocritical disciple who violates Thy commandments.

Protect me from thinking that I can walk along Thy path merely for the sake of appearance and thus by my hypocrisy deceive those who see me, inciting them to proclaim me blessed.

Grant that my heart might please Thy greatness in secret, and that my just life might glorify Thee publicly.

May truth be a mistress to guide Thy worshipper; may it preserve me in chastity both near and far.

Deliver me from the misfortune of knowing Thy law, yet lacking the desire to please Thee.

Vouchsafe me the company of people who are simple, but experienced and wise in the performance of virtues.

My flesh is weak. Fortify it with Thy strength. Help me, break the arrows of the cunning enemy, and number me among the hosts of Thine heirs.

Grant me, O Lord, ever to be among Thy dominion and to do what is pleasing to Thee. And whenever I begin something good, do Thou, O Lord, give me strength to complete it.

I know, O Lord, that I have sinned against Thy will. Clearly do I see that I have transgressed Thy commands. But do Thou, who makest Thy sun to shine on the bad and the good, deign also to shine Thy light in my clouded mind. And sins — those murderers and robbers who have taken up residence inside of me — will be driven out by this Thy light.

The Evil One sees in me no wickedness that did not come from him, for it is because of him that I have become wicked. I am, however, conquered by him through my own free will. The Evil One has entangled me because I myself instructed him to do so.

The slothful and the timid run from Thy yoke; Thy love shames the negligent.

Praise be to Thy goodness, to that mother of all teachers. The blows that they deliver to bring the stubborn to their senses are perhaps quite painful, yet sympathetically do they offer healing to the penitent.

Worthy of veneration are Thy Father and Thy Holy Spirit, Who rejoices at our return!