#interlude excerpt

[flipppyflopp]

Twisted Neverland

Departure: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade

Deuce was running late. The bright moon overhead seemed to be mocking his tardiness. For once in his life, he wanted things to go right, for a day just to be good. Unfortunately, today couldn’t have been worse.

It all started when he overslept this morning. His mom came and woke him up, but he fell back asleep. He stayed out late the night before trying to fix up his bike that he wrecked last week, so he was exhausted. His mom had just assumed he was getting ready, so she didn’t bother checking on him till he was supposed to get on the bus. Deuce panicked and started getting ready in record time. He already had nine tardies for the school year, one more and he’d get suspended again.

Out of frustration, Deuce yelled at his mom that she should have woken him up. He yelled at her. She didn’t deserve that. Deuce knew that. She deserved so much better. She worked two jobs in order to provide for Deuce and herself after dad left them. During the day when Deuce was in school, she worked full-time at the local car garage and then she worked part-time in the evenings as a delivery driver for White Rabbit Deliveries. She worked hard to provide a good life for herself and Deuce, and here he was just screwing it up like usual. He wanted to do better, be better, but every time he tried to stick to the right path, he just screwed it up. Just like this morning. What good kid yells at his own mother? It was his fault that he stayed out. It was his fault that he fell back asleep. It was his fault that he was a bad kid.

His mom, his gracious and forgiving mom, took it in stride and simply handed him his book bag and a lunch she packed herself. She told him to have a great birthday and that when he came home, she would have something for him.

Oh yeah. To top it all off, today was his birthday.

Deuce grabbed his book bag and lunch, and ran to the front door. Just like every other morning, Deuce’s mom told him to promise to do his best, and Deuce hurriedly replied that he promised. A promise he broke each and every day.

Deuce ended up being late to school by three minutes. He tried to plead with the principal, but he refused, citing each day that Deuce was late this school year. He said that if Deuce really cared about his attendance, he wouldn’t already have nine tardies. The principal then grabbed the phone and began to dial his mother’s number to tell her that starting tomorrow he would be suspended for the rest of the week.

Deuce didn’t know what else to do, so he left. He grabbed his book bag and ran right out of the office. He didn’t want to hear the principal talk with his mom. He didn’t want to feel the shame and guilt overwhelm him when hearing his mom’s shock. He couldn’t bear it.

So he ran out of the school and into the nearest alleyway. He took turn after turn to make sure to lose anyone who came after him. Once he himself wasn’t sure where he ended up, he slid down the wall and sat on the ground. He brought up his knees to his chest and rested his head on his knees.

Deuce didn’t know when he started crying, but he knew he cried for quite awhile. It started out quiet, but then his sobs grew louder as the day’s events washed over him. Why couldn’t things go right for once? Why couldn’t he get his act together? Why couldn’t he be a good kid? He asked himself these questions over and over, but he couldn’t come up with an answer for any of them.

As his thoughts began to overwhelm him, Deuce cried louder and louder. Eventually, his cries drew the attention of others.

“Look at what we have here boys. A little baby who can’t find his way home.”

A hand grabs Deuce’s hair and yanks his head up. Deuce immediately registers that it’s some member of the Black Bunnies gang, recognizable by the gray letterman jacket with a black rabbit patch on it.

Once the guy gets a look at Deuce’s face, he calls out, “Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t he the Cauldron Duke?”

Three more members of the Black Bunnies emerge from the shadows of the alleyway. Deuce feels his stomach drop. He should’ve just run back home.

One guy with short, blonde hair says, “It really is! What’s he doing out here crying?”

Another guy with long, black hair retorts, “Maybe he’s not all what the rumors say he is. Maybe he’s nothing more than a snot nosed brat.”

The one holding Deuce’s hair, a guy with pink hair, asks, “Got anything to say for yourself, Cauldron Duke?”

Deuce steels his nerves and doesn’t respond at all. He narrows his gaze, trying to look somewhat intimidating. He knows it isn’t successful when he sees a frown cross the guy’s face in front of him.

“You think you’re above us? Answer me when I’m talking to you!”

Suddenly, Deuce is sent reeling backwards. A punch sends him flying into the brick wall behind him. He falls to the ground and tries to catch his breath.

The pink haired guy grabs Deuce’s face again and yanks it up so that Deuce is looking him in the eyes.

“Does the baby not know how to talk?”

The guy punches Deuce in the chest with his free hand while his lackeys walk up behind him.

“Need someone to hold your hand?”

This time a kick to the gut from the lackey with blonde hair.

“Come on boys! Don’t let me hog all the fun!”

Deuce just wants it all to stop.

“No way this is the Cauldron Duke!”

He wishes for it to end.

“Wish you had some friends, don’t you!”

He wants someone to come flying to his rescue, but no one does. No one ever does.

“Let’s get him good! He’s all alone now!”

He’s always been alone.

“I bet you want your mommy!”

Mom. He’s always had her. If no one else, he’s had her. She’s waiting for him. He needs to get back to her.

“How about one more boys-“

The pink haired leader gets sent flying into the nearby garbage dump. The other three lackeys stare dumbfounded at Deuce who managed such a feat with a single punch.

Deuce shakily rises to his feet and wipes the blood slowly dripping down the corner of his cheek. He’s going home. He’s not going to let anyone stop him.

Deuce doesn’t like to fight, he knows that it’s wrong and that his mom would be disappointed in him, but he does like the feeling. He lets his mind shut down, letting his body go on autopilot. All those thoughts weighing him down just disappear when he prepares to fight. Step. Punch. Step. Duck. Repeat.

He takes care of the lackeys quickly. They end up turning tail and leaving before the fighting gets too intense. After the last one runs out the alleyway, Deuce lets out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding in. He begins to assess himself, seeing what damage was done. Other than some nasty bruises, he seems to be ok. A bit sore, but ok.

Deuce stretches his arms above his head, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. As he releases his breath, he opens his eyes and takes in the scarlet sky that’s beginning to give way to a deep blue with stars just dancing on its edges.

Wait. Stars?

Deuce curses to himself and mutters, “I’m so late! Mom said she had something she wanted to show me after school. But those guys jumped me and-“

Deuce immediately takes off running in what he believes to be the direction of his home. How did it get so late so quickly!? He was supposed to be home by now.

The day just continues to get worse and worse. As Deuce didn’t pay much attention when he ran out his school earlier, he got lost trying to find his way back home. By the time Deuce finally manages to get back home, the sky is full of stars while he is out of breath. He quietly approaches the door and pulls out his key. He tries to think of something to say to his mom, but his mind is empty. What could he possibly say to her at this point? His mom is probably already asleep anyway, so he can just ask her about whatever she wanted to show him tomorrow morning. It might be better if he just slips into his bedroom and goes straight to bed, putting this awful day behind him as quickly as possible.

As Deuce makes up his mind, he turns the key and quietly steps inside, making sure to lock the door behind him. He tiptoes towards the kitchen to put his book bag away, but he pauses when he notices that a light is on down the hallway. It’s the light in his mom’s room. Why’s his mom still awake at this hour? She usually goes to bed early during the week because she has to get up to get ready for work. Deuce quietly walks down the hallway and listens to see if he can hear if his mom’s still up. Maybe she accidentally fell asleep with the light on? If he doesn’t hear anything, he’ll just quickly open the door to shut the lights off.

As he reaches the door, he begins to hear noise from inside the room. Crying. It’s muffled, but it’s definitely the sound of his mother crying. Did something happen at work? Did someone mess with his mom? While Deuce debates entering the room or slipping away and pretending he never heard anything, he hears his mom speak.

���Mom, I just don’t know what to do. The principal called and said Deuce skipped school again.”

Oh. It’s because of him.

“I just don’t know what to do! I love him so much, but it must not be enough if he’s doing all this.”

He’s screwed up again.

“Maybe I can’t do this on my own…maybe Deuce needs a real family. I just want him to be happy, mom, but he keeps getting into trouble.”

Deuce bites his lip and balls his hands into fists.

“Am I doing something wrong? Am I not a good mother?”

He turns on his heel and walks towards the kitchen.

His thoughts fly as he makes his way back down the hall.

‘No. Mom…she feels like this? I’m…I’m a terrible son, making her go through all of this.’

Deuce grabs the handle and quietly turns it as a tear slides down his face.

‘She’s the one who deserves better! She’d be better off without me screwing up her life! I should just-‘

The state of kitchen sends his racing thoughts crashing into an abrupt halt. The kitchen is decorated in streamers and banners of varying shades of blue. Balloons sit in each corner of the room along with some shiny tinsel. In the center of the room sits a cake topped with sixteen unlit candles. A banner boldly declares in a bright and cheery font, “Happy Birthday Deuce!”

That’s right. Today’s his birthday. How could he have forgotten?

This is what his mom wanted to show him. What she had planned. She went through all this trouble for him, yet all he does for her is cause trouble. Why? Why would she go to such lengths for him? He only ever brings her grief and she did something so kind for him.

Deuce feels his heart drop. He wishes he could simply disappear.

He drops his bag by the closet before walking towards the cake in the center of the kitchen. Deuce takes small steps, making sure that his footsteps are muffled. He peers at the cake and reads the words written in blue icing on the cake, “Happy 16th Birthday, Deuce!” Deuce bites his lip while grabbing one of the candles from on top of the cake. He turns on his heel and quickly speeds out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He tries to be as silent as possible, but he’s not sure how much noise he’s made. His heart seems to be knocking loudly on his chest. He’s convinced his mom can hear his guilt.

Deuce closes his bedroom door and cries out, “I wish I could be a son Mom could be proud of!”

“It’s not too late. You could still become a fine son.”

Deuce’s head whips up at the sound of another voice in his room. A boy stands in front of his window that he was positive was closed before he went to school this morning. The boy is small, Deuce would’ve mistaken him for a middle schooler based on his looks; however, his voice was cold and dignified, making Deuce think he was actually older than he appeared. The boy had red hair hidden beneath a red pirate hat with a large black feather in it. The hat matched the rest of the boy’s ensemble of a bright, long red jacket with black and gold accents.

Deuce knew he should immediately start throwing fists at this person who broke into his room. He had no clue who this person was, or what he might do. Even though his body was ready to move forward and start swinging, Deuce’s mind was exhausted from the day’s events. He didn’t think he had it in him to do much more than lay on the floor and cry.

Not to mention, the boy had said something that echoed in Deuce’s mind. He said that Deuce could still become, “a fine son.” The way the boy said it sounded like he was reciting a fact. That he knew Deuce could become good. Deuce had never met this person before and yet they sounded like they knew him in such a familiar way. It was strange. His body wanted to fight. His mind wanted to hear more. For once, he went with his head.

Deuce declares to the stranger, “Tell me how!”

The red headed boy scoffs and says, “Not even going to ask my name, or how I arrived here? You are quite reckless. I shall take you aboard my vessel, the Queen’s Court, where I will turn you from a fickle youth into a fine gentleman worthy of everyone’s praise.”

The boy turns towards the window and adds, “That is, if you’re willing to change.“

Change. That’s all Deuce has wanted to do, but it didn’t seem possible. At least, not on his own. When he tried to change, he just screwed it up. Trouble found him in different ways and Deuce ended up right back where he started. It was like he was stuck on an endless loop, all alone wallowing in his guilt. Maybe what he needed was the help of someone else. An outsider. A friend.

Deuce balls his hands into fists and says, “I’ll do anything!”

The boy turns back with a smile on his face as he responds, “Then welcome aboard, Deuce Spade. Come along, we depart now.”

The boy begins walking back towards the window and Deuce quickly says, “Wait! Don’t I need to pack? I-“

The boy cuts him off, “Everything you need will be on board.”

Deuce takes a step to follow the boy, but he hesitates before making another move. He turns back towards his bedroom door. Could he really just leave?

“Your mother will be fine without you. She won’t even know you’re gone.”

Deuce whips his head back towards the window and says, “You promise?”

Deuce isn’t sure if he imagined it, but it seemed like sadness briefly appeared in the red headed boy’s eyes. Deuce couldn’t be sure though because as quickly as he saw it, it disappeared and was replaced with a determined gaze.

“Of course. I promise on my name Riddle Rosehearts.”

Deuce takes one last glance at the door and raises his fist. He opens it revealing the candle he took from his birthday cake in the kitchen. He would become someone his mom could be proud of. Someone she could brag about to all the neighbors. No longer would she have to apologize on his behalf. He would become someone worthy of her love.

He quickly slips the candle into his pocket and turns to follow Riddle. Then he realizes he’s not sure where he’s following Riddle to besides his window. Would they leave by climbing out and leaping into the alleyway below?

Just as his mind begins to think of other places Riddle might be leading him towards, he notices what lurks just outside his window. A large ship has laid down a plank leading up to his window. Deuce blinks several times before finally believing his eyes. There’s a floating ship right outside his house. A ship that apparently can turn him into a good kid according to Riddle. What a strange day it’s been.

Deuce quietly follows Riddle onto the ship where people are milling about pulling on various ropes and moving crates around the ship. Everyone seems to know their task and is getting it done without a moment to waste. He notices that some of the boys begin to whisper to one another after realizing Riddle has come onboard the ship. Their whispering ends just as quickly as it began, the boys quickly resume their work with even more vigor in their steps. Riddle walks up to a boy with orange hair who is carrying a box with various pieces of clothes inside.

The orange haired boy smiles and says, “It’s totes good to see you again, Captain! You sure know how to get the job done quickly!”

Riddle pays no mind to the boy’s praise and says, “Cater, would you please take Deuce to the sleeping quarters?”

Cater winks and retorts, “Do you even have to ask? Cay-Cay would be more than happy to show the way-way!”

Deuce inwardly cringes at Cater’s wordplay, but he’s probably just trying to make Deuce feel more at ease. After all, Cater understands everything that’s going on onboard this ship, while Deuce is completely in the dark.

Riddle pays Cater’s silliness no mind and says, “Thank you. I’ll be off to make sure the preparations are complete for our return to Neverland.”

Riddle turns to Deuce and continues, “I’ll leave you in Cater’s capable hands. If you have any questions, I’m sure he will be able to fill you in. I’ll see you in the morning, Deuce.”

With a swish of his red jacket, Riddle makes his way up a flight of stairs towards some unknown part of the ship. Deuce watches Riddle until he fades from view before taking in Cater. Cater has orange hair that is partially clipped back with some pieces falling down to frame his face. Underneath one of his green eyes, Cater has a red diamond painted on. His outfit consists of the same outfit as the other boys milling about, a simple blue striped shirt with jeans that are covered in a variety of patches. One accessory sets Cater apart from the other boys and that would be a camera attached to a strap hanging around Cater’s neck.

Deuce isn’t sure what to say or do, but luckily Cater quickly begins to strike up conversation saying, “Welcome aboard Deucey! My name is Cater Diamond, expert coordinator on board the Queen’s Court. Any questions I can go ahead and answer for you?”

Deuce has a million questions sitting on the top of his tongue. What is this place? What’s Neverland? Why is Cater here? How was Deuce chosen for this experience? How was the ship floating? Why was everyone acting so calm? Did his mom hate him? Was he making the right choice by being here? Despite all these questions, Deuce can’t bring himself to ask a single one. He’s tired. He’s had a long day. If he received any answer to any of his many questions, he’d probably end up forgetting it right away. That, or it’d probably be the last straw and Deuce would just collapse into a sobbing mess.

Cater seems to notice Deuce’s overwhelmed state and gives a small smile as he says, “I’m sure this is a lot for you to take in, so how about we head on down to barracks so you can go ahead and crash?”

Deuce returns the gesture with a smile of his own and says, “Yes, please.”

“Right this way.”

They head through a nearby door and down a flight of stairs. Deuce can’t help but wonder what he’s gotten himself into. Perhaps this is the first step in his journey to become a better son; however, it’s just as likely this could be him sealing his fate into some crazy adventure. Regardless, Deuce felt a strange sense of peace. No matter what lay ahead of him, he knew that he would not be the same person as he was at the start. Change was all around him and he was sure that it was bound to become a part of him. All he needed to do was continue to walk forward on this new path he embarked upon.

[grailknightmonty]

"and i seriously hope that one day, when all of this is over and death and destruction aren't lurking around every corner- that we can go down to the docks and fish without a care in the world. to sit by each other's side from sunset to sunrise without a single fear. it would be amazing just to have that, even just once."

funky lil bday gift for my homie Mars from the RPG! :D I debated about redrawing a moment from the SMP but i settled on this idea of that in the middle of what's been a huge period of uncertainty and constant fear of losing it all for them, that I imagine all they could want could be found in something so mundane, so peaceful as just sitting by a lake, as the sun rises

[words-and-coffee]

Sometimes I watch Girl become Goddess and the metamorphosis is more magnificent than anything I have ever known.

Nikita Gill, Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths and Monster - Mortal Interlude

[grell-writes-stuff]

ROY G BIV Tag

I wasn't tagged, but I saw this and wanted to do it. Share lines with the colours of the rainbow!

red:

We leap apart the second we’re alone like two magnets with the same pole. “Ew,” she grunts. “You reek of sweat and vomit.” “Don’t act like you’ve never freaked out before.” “Not like that.” My eyes roll, but she’s not paying attention to me. She’s holding her phone out in front of her and using the camera to apply another coat of obnoxious red lipstick to her already-obnoxiously-red lips. “Can we just get this over with? I’m meeting this guy in, like, half an hour, so-” “You lined up a date on our fake-breakup night?” She glares at me. “Fine. A hook-up. Whatever."

orange:

Even distracting myself to air-drumming along to Bon Jovi – and ignoring as Travis tries to sing along, sounding like a dying ostrich – I start to get a little fed up with how long this road-trip-apparently is taking. We’re a long way into fucking Orange County when I consider breaking my longstanding rule of not ever calling Selena’s phone number so I can yell at her directly.

yellow:

The relief I feel is microscopic as Bryson herds everyone through the stage door and out to the bar. The contract looms over me like a heavy, yellow fog. Why did I ever think I could do this and challenge the natural order of things, disturb the righteous organization of the universe? A four-minute sacrifice between me and my freedom.

green:

“Aren’t you supposed to pour one out? You know…” “Sure, but I wanted to have some first. I’ll dump the rest for him.” “We’ll be here.” Bryson sighs. Then, “Outside, genius.” “This is closer,” says Cole. Matt and I follow Bryson’s eyes and watch as Cole approaches a plant that looks like a more permanent installation in this room: a leafy green thing confined to a pot of dirt in the corner. “Cole, don’t water the plant with Fireball,” Bryson says as Cole proceeds to water the plant with Fireball.

blue:

I wish he wasn’t able to look at me. His blue eyes are full of water. There’s this terrible way that he can’t stop his lip and hands from trembling. My mom squeezes my hand so fucking tight, but the other is over her face as she breaks. They’re all breaking. They’re broken.

indigo

purple:

I look into my digital reflection displayed on my laptop screen as I wait, and it’s not pretty. The bruising beneath my eye is an ugly dark purple and my cheek looks too flat.

white:

There’s a tattoo on her lower back that I can see from behind my drums. It’s a tramp stamp of a flower – a daisy or something – done without linework. The white ink of the petals against her skin makes it look like weird, round scars.

black:

My cheeks are wet. I half-hiccup, half-gasp for not enough air. I can’t live in this terrible universe the way it is, but I can’t do anything to change the things it has already done to me. I can’t take back what it’s taken from me. I wipe my sleeve against my eyes and the black fabric of this uniform futilely hides the tears.

grey:

He glances off-screen suddenly at a knock that I can hear through the speakers, two thousand miles away. He looks back and his grey eyes rove the bottom of his screen.

brown:

The second the side door shuts behind the Rays, she whirls on me, brown eyes ablaze, and yells, “You motherfucker!” She wastes a good ten minutes screaming at me and only backs off when Bryson’s sister comes out to the garage to tell her to shut the fuck up.

I'm not gonna tag people; this is for whoever else wants to take part :)

[hoseoksluna]

— VALENTINE'S DAY WIP ︵ᡣ𐭩 scheme | jjk

pairing: yandere!jungkook x strategy!oc

genre: smut

rating: 18+

about: jungkook thinks you're such a good girl, and for that reason he can't help but to fuck you with his fingers.

warnings: fingering, squirting, praise kink.

word count: 0.671

note: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO MY BABIES. i couldn't NOT spoil you on this special day! this is a smut excerpt of the chapter that is coming out on sunday, and i'm so excited to show this to you and essentially give you this little gift on this day. may love surrounding all your life, not just on this day, and may you know that i love you with all my heart. MWAH. ENJOY READING.

︵ᡣ𐭩

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

And like you tilted your pelvis, you tilt your chin and seize his bottom lip, kissing him with such tenderness that he moans and nearly gives you the entirety of his finger. It takes all of his willpower not to do so, concentrating instead on the sealing of the promise as he allows you to kiss him on your own terms. Soft pecks handled by the turning of heads with interludes in between, tasting each other while the time and the cosmos hold their breaths. How beautiful this is and how delicate, the act of not ripping each other’s clothes off but taking your shared time, standing in the way of the laws of this life. 

“Okay,” you whisper against his lips, and Jungkook grasps that you’ve been gathering courage all this time for a reason he longs to know. “Fuck me, please.” 

He hums in pleasure, pressing a rewarding kiss against your lips that lasts for only a second—interrupted by the force of his pleased grin. The fulfillment he feels grows, merging into a high-leveled gratification that buzzes throughout his whole body. He tries to kiss you again but fails, awkwardness seeping through that makes you daintily giggle. And once he hears his own, an oasis of serenity and sentimentality, perfumed by the sweetest tea of pomegranate leaves, transpires in his chest. 

“Good girl,” he praises, adding another finger, his vocal cords strained by his emotions. “Where do you want me? Tell me where.” 

Your breath hardens, wafting across his features, but you’re not shy, you’re not timid to tell him where you need him: “In my pussy, please.” 

His cheeks ache from his smile, but he can’t stop. He’s fucked, he loves you, and it completely massacres him. “That’s it. You learn so well.” 

Jungkook pulls out his fingers to his first knuckles, dropping his gaze to them just to see how much you coated them. Your essence glistens in the dimmed light and drips down his palm. Wanting you to see as well, he pulls them out entirely and shows you. The droplets plummet to your chest and you bite your lip, blushing, your eyes running all across his hand. Over and over again. 

“You’re so prettily wet,” he rasps, closing his lips over your cheek, and he doesn’t need you to respond to his comment before he plunges them back in and begins to fuck you with such a speed that you scream out, grabbing his forearm and sinking your nails into it. 

That doesn’t stop him either. The need to make you come for being such a good girl after that winter of emotional pain ferally takes control of him and he douses himself in its tide. 

He pistons his fingers into you, curling them at the front wall. Thumbing your clit, you roll your eyes back, your chest heaving and gasping for air. Your little nipples perk up for him against the fabric of your night dress, and the sight is so dazzling that he doesn’t blink as he watches you. He can’t wait to have you all bare for him—to see you in your full glory, your flesh bouncing and under his command. His cock leaks at that thought and his animalistic instincts take a hold of him, fucking you faster with his fingers until your whole body shakes—just like he wanted, and until your whole body comes for him. 

The fountain of your pleasure soaks you first before it soaks him, and Jungkook thinks it’s exactly what you deserved. You yelp, but the sound of horror soon turns into a sound of elation as you begin to sputter into a fit of giggles. One he consumes by kissing you nastily, all tongues and spit, while he massages your clit, taking you to the finish line until you can’t anymore. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moan into his mouth, barely able to kiss him back as the daze and dizziness of your orgasm seizes you, and Jungkook hums in response, knowing—knowing all about how you feel. 

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

WIP masterlist | READ full chapter

[bhramarii]

Divine Comedy interlude chapter illustration and excerpts

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words for worldbuilding: time (pt. 4)

attribute of duration: ad infinitum, all-time, annual, brief, chronic, concise, constant, continuous, endless, eternal, evanescent, everlasting, fleeting, for keeps, immortal, indefinitely, interminable, laconic, lifelong, long, long-standing, momentary, never-ending, old, ongoing, perennial, perpetual, running, short, short-lived, steady, through, timeless, transient/transitory, unbroken, undying, unflagging, unrelenting, whirlwind

attribute of time: actual, afterward/afterwards, almost, antediluvian, at, behind the times, colonial, concurrent, dilatory, due, early, ever, extemporaneous or extemporary, felicitous, foremost, for keeps, forward, from scratch, gradually, hence, hurried, initial, instantly, irregular, just about, lastly, later, leisurely, meanwhile, narrowly, next, nocturnal, old-fashioned, once and for all, on the double, overdue, pell-mell, perpetual, posthaste, preceding, precipitous/precipitate, previous, primarily, primary/prime, primitive, pristine, promptly, quickly, rapidly, right, sharp, simultaneous, sudden, summarily, swiftly/swift, temporal, thereafter, ultimate, untimely, up-to-date, while, yet

date: anniversary

day: afternoon, anniversary, date, ephemeral, journal, morning, nightly, noon, time

definite period: date, furlough, instant, midnight, noon, sabbatical, shift

division of: day, second

duration: brevity, continuation, endure, extent, halt, remain

frequency: rapidity, sometimes

hour: afternoon, morning, noon, time

indefinite period: age, anytime, bout, breath, convenience, eon, era, future, hiatus, infinity, interlude, interruption, lapse, leisure, lull, millenium, moment, past, period, recess, respite, round, semester, space, spell, stint, suspension, tour, vacation, while

minute: flash, jiffy, tick, wink

month: almanac, gestation, moon, time

part of a day: afternoon, dawn, daybreak, dusk, gloom, morning, nightfall, sunset, twilight

past or future: following, past, previous, succeeding/successive

proximity: immediate, now, succeeding/successive

relative order: follow, succeed

season: autumn, spring, summer, winter

specific: anniversary, date, daybreak, instance, point, yesterday, zero hour

stage of existence: administration, childhood, day, generation, millenium, phase, stage, tenure

stage of life form: adolescence, babyhood, cradle, landmark, lifetime, maternity, prime, spell, youth

temporal association: anachronism, dispatch, eternity, following, haste, past, precedence, previous, rush, succeeding/successive

temporal object: anytime, time

time relative to present: abaft, after, ahead, amid/amidst, antecedent, back, beforehand, belated, bygone, coincident, current, destined, during, ensuing, eventual, fated, first, fore, former, forthwith, historical, immediately, impending, infant/infantile, just, momentarily, nearing, newly, once, present, previous, prior, recent, shortly, soon, subsequent, succeeding/successive, ultimate, until, yet

unit of time measure: day, minute, wink

within a time period: epoch, interval, semester, spell, stretch, while

year: almanac, annual, time, yearly

NOTE

Excerpted from Roget's 21st Century Thesaurus, Updated and Expanded 3rd Edition, in Dictionary Form, edited by The Princeton Language Institute.

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary.

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[lestatsinstrument]

Today when reading one of the books I noticed that playboy magazine was credited for publishing some of The Vampire Chronicles content. Excerpts from the books as well as a standalone erotic short story told by Armand to Louis.

More information here:

[ryomanticizing]

The Devil's Minion / Interview With The Vampire

"What ties this wolf to this lamb, she figures, is the fact that it hasn’t eaten it. Painful mystery of the gift that returns through reflection: what the wolf loves in the lamb is its own goodness. It’s thanks to the lamb that the wolf accedes to the plane of love—the love that gives of itself without hope, without calculation, without response, but that nevertheless gives of itself, seeing itself give of itself. The wolf given to a lamb of the Griniov type who doesn’t even notice the enormity of the gift—that’s really love. There remains the infinite solitude of the wolf, invisible and unrecognized except by itself. What interest does Pougatchov have in not eating the lamb? The ascetic and dangerous interest of self-love. The lover loves the beloved, which is the occasion for generous love. But thereafter—thereafter there is the aftermath. Now the wolf can no longer break away from the lamb, for the lamb retains, for better or worse, traces of the gift. That which is given in love can never be taken back. It is me my entire self that I give with the gift of love. This is why the wolf can’t stop loving the lamb, the chosen one. Repository of the wolf. All of the wolf. That’s how love can ruin the lover." - translation of Hélène Cixous' The Love of the Wolf

Agustín Gómez Arcos, The Carnivorous Lamb // from a uquiz i took ages back // Travis Scott, SDP Interlude // Mabel, Episode 15: Killing the Moon // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Andrew Kane, How To Be A Dog // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Ocean Vuong, On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous // @achillics, vulnerability // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Azra T. // excerpt transcribed from the video 'The Ambiguity of Relationships' by Professor Francis Ambrosio // from the translation of Hélène Cixous' The Love of the Wolf // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Karese Burrows, from “Persephone Writes a Poem,” This Is How We Lost Each Other // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Raleigh Richie, Bloodsport // David Cronenberg, Consumed // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Jessa Crispin // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // unknown // Sean Glatch, from “Caffeine, Pt. 1,″ 4:41  // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // @starstark // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Saaba Tahir // Jeff Buckley, Lover, You Should've Come Over // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // k.c.cramm, christmas eve forever // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Jeff Buckley, Lover, You Should've Come Over // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Yves Olade, Bloodsport // Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // @thepoisonroom // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // Caluco, Maggots // Anne Rice, QOTD, The Devil's Minion // all gifs are from Interview With The Vampire S2E05

[vivernadragon]

I want to introduce you to my character, inspired by the Welcome Home project, created in July 2023.

If Marie appeared on the show, she told the children about plants (mostly flowers), how to take care of them, what benefits they can bring, and also what meaning they have. These teachings were interspersed with funny short children's songs, as well as humorous episodes or interludes with her younger brothers, who caused problems for her and other neighbors.

Interestingly, Marie can sometimes accept a song from a customer that she likes or that she doesn't know yet, instead of paying. The character hummed a small excerpt from the song, and the little viewers had to repeat it for the purchase to take place.

Marie also organizes small concerts for flowers, convinced that this will help her garden grow bigger and more fragrant. She performs lullabies for the green listeners before going to bed, and also sings fervent songs with a positive message during watering or weeding.

In fact, Marie is also currently being used in my and my friend's project, which I will try to introduce to you later.

[maryflanner]

God Gave Rock n Roll 2U: Tracks 9 and 10

Two new chapters with holy-Swiss-cheese-Batman amazing art by u/DaneeCastle !

I'm excited for this week's chapters. You'll see why.

Track 9: Where I Belong

Track 10: Interlude: Interview with Paste Magazine

Summary: Twenty years ago, megachurch Mountaintop Praise and Worship disfellowshipped Crowley's band, Starmaker. Sixteen years ago, while playing state fairs, washed up rocker Crowley reconnected with Azir, the keyboardist for Mountaintop's band, Angels Unaware. Today, they're going to have to make some big choices. A story about freaks, faith, friendship, fear, funnel cake, fried condiments, falling, and most of all, Fairs. (And also the 90s.) Mary says: Please read the tags. There's nothing Dead Dove, but it goes deep into religious trauma. And of course, there's a happy ending. THANK YOU, BETAS!! u/millship, u/Zin_lynn, u/goatmeal_craisin, and u/on1occasionfork

Excerpt:

Paste: How have you changed?

 AC: I mean, besides being completely without any family or support system, there’s the whole shattered pelvis thing, and the whole replaced kneecap thing, and the second degree burns thing, and oh yeah, the eyes thing. I’m in pain constantly. All the time, something hurts. Usually my hips, but if not that, then my eyes are always so damn sensitive. 

Paste: Is that why you always wear sunglasses?

AC: Yeah, that’s part of it. They also look pretty weird and I’d rather people just think I’m a douchebag who thinks he’s cool than deal with staring. People talked about my eyes all the time before – it was something I felt good about in myself. There was this kid, back at Mountaintop, who I’d see around -– and looking back, knowing myself now, I totally, totally had a crush, maybe my first -– and he’d tell people I had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. It doesn’t feel great having them being a thing that sets me apart in a bad way now, you know?

Paste: You’ve agreed to be photographed without your glasses for us.

AC: Yep. Just to get it out there and satisfy everyone’s curiosity where I don’t have to be around for it. So is this your way of asking if you can see?

Start from the start on AO3!

@goodomensafterdark

[darsynia]

Banana (Steve/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: Steve unexpectedly stayed over, and you want to make him the best breakfast ever.

Length/Warnings: 1,700 words | sexual contact

It's your ACTUAL BIRTHDAY @ronearoundblindly!! For banaNA, the delicious centerpiece of my 7 Ro Roll stories, we've got an established relationship morning interlude of teeth-rotting fluff. Enjoy!!

Excerpt:

Steve sets his fork carefully onto his plate, lifting up his napkin to wipe his mouth. The look in his eyes is warm. “You’re hoping I stay over more often?”

Two months ago you’d have worried that was some kind of relationship test.

One month ago you would have been scared to admit how much you think about sex with him.

Today you say, “Yes, I am.”

Loving Steve Rogers has made you more confident, and someday you’ll tell him that.

Banana

You really hadn’t expected your boyfriend to sleep over. It wasn’t the traditional date where you dress up in something beautiful and eat out at a ritzy restaurant, then come home and undress to experience something beautiful. It was the kind where he comes by with takeout and the two of you watch movies until you both fall asleep on the couch.

Still, you’d like to make the morning intentionally special for Steve.

You can’t ask him what he likes for breakfast while he's in the shower, but you're sure he has a metabolism-stimulating plate of protein every morning, looking like that. After assessing what's in the fridge, you make the decision to go all-out. He’d been used to mess hall communal meals back in the army, right? Plus, there's a kitchen in the Compound, so he probably makes his own breakfast. You lose a few minutes just picturing that.

Ten minutes later you’ve made him a plate with two kinds of eggs, sausage patties, buttered toast, and a little cup of sliced strawberries. The glass of orange juice ended up using the rest of the carton, but you can always buy more.

You wait with bated breath with your own breakfast, a generous bowl of oatmeal with your favorite fruits garnished with brown sugar. Steve doesn’t need to know those were the only eggs, nor that you made him the last of your sausage.

“Wow that smells great, are you setting up your crock pot or something?” he calls out from the hallway. You grin, excited for the surprise. Soon he’s coming into the kitchen, still drying his hair off with one of your towels. He smells amazing, and everything about the moment is exactly what you’ve always wanted.

Except… he looks uncomfortable.

“Please tell me you’re not allergic to eggs,” you fret.

“Oh, those are for me?”

“Well, yeah, look at the size of the plate! I guess if you want the oatmeal…”

He’s walking into the wide kitchen doorway, disappearing behind the wall for a moment (during which your mind races, thinking of all the things you could have done wrong. Does he dislike pepper? Allergic to citrus? What if he hates sausage? Why did you think this is a good idea!?).

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s got a banana in his hand, along with a fork, knife, and spoon. “Together, we’re a table setting,” he jokes, holding them up.

You almost facepalm-- you’d completely forgotten silverware. “Thanks.”

After the eggs and fruit are gone (accompanied by many enjoyment noises that punctuate your discussion of baseball), he points at the empty bowl of strawberries with a neatly-sliced piece of sausage on the end of his fork.

“You should know, I usually only eat a banana or some sliced fruit like this for breakfast, but this is delicious. Thank you.”

You conjure up the least embarrassed smile you can manage, but inside you wonder whether his honesty is warring with his sense of politeness.

“You’re asking yourself if I’d lie to make you happy, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Guilty,” you sigh. “I’m glad you said something before I made this mistake multiple times in the future.”

Steve sets his fork carefully onto his plate, lifting up his napkin to wipe his mouth. The look in his eyes is warm. “You’re hoping I stay over more often?”

Two months ago you’d have worried that was some kind of relationship test.

One month ago you would have been scared to admit how much you think about sex with him.

Today you say, “Yes, I am.”

Loving Steve Rogers has made you more confident, and someday you’ll tell him that.

He stands, coming over to take your hand and draw you solicitously up to your feet for a sweet, brief kiss. Steve's expression turns more serious, and he looks you right in your eyes.

“I’m hungry.”

You cannot be reading him right. It’s wishful thinking.

“There’s still that bana--”

Steve interrupts you with another kiss. It’s full of passion--a rough hand at your hip, thumb caressing your cheek, teeth scraping out of desperate sloppiness. The man is wrecking your mental health, but you’re right there with him, slowly filling up with heated liquor at every swipe of his tongue. He lifts his head and smiles gently, his lips twitching for a few seconds before he leans his head back and laughs.

Two months ago you would have thought he was laughing at you.

One month ago you’d have nervously played along in confusion.

Now you shove at his shoulder in mock frustration. “Out with it!”

“I can’t pull off that line, I’m sorry! I did my best,” he confesses sheepishly. “I woke up in the middle of the night on the couch with you asleep on my chest and texted Clint about what to do.”

“Oh, God,” you say, trying valiantly to hold back a giggle. “Why Clint?”

He backs up into the kitchen with his hands held up defensively. “I thought I could trust him! I figured Natasha would give me… questionable advice,” Steve says, “--and neither of us wanted me to ask Tony.”

“Oh, God,” you say again, this time in actual dismay.

“Exactly.” He pulls out one of your leftover containers and its matching lid, and holds them up.

He looks so good in his tight pants and form-fitting t-shirt that you gather up all of your Steve-loves-me courage.

“I thought you were hungry?” you say impudently, walking over and taking them out of his hands to set on the counter. Sliding your arms up around his neck, you kiss him with as much fervor as the kiss just minutes ago, letting your hands roam into his hair, down over his arm muscles, and finally to your goal, his waistband. Because you want his full permission before you do anything further, you mouth your way from his lips to his jaw, so he can say something if he needs to. If his enthusiastic participation in the kiss so far is any indication, though, there’s hope he’s up for it.

You circle the button of his pants with your thumb, slipping your fingers past his waistband. He hasn’t put on a belt yet, and there’s something intimate about it that’s beyond anything sexual, like he trusts himself to be not fully put-together around you. Falling asleep on the couch with you is one of those kind of things, too.

Steve whispers your name in a hoarse voice that’s rich with desire.

“Yes?” you question, hoping you’re not pushing too much.

“Yes.” 

Arching up to give him a kiss, you release the button and push the zipper down slowly, as much a caress against his groin as anything else. Steve throws a hand out to the side, and you feel a surge of excitement to think he’s so enthusiastic already.

“Here,” he says, throwing the towel that usually hangs from the oven on the floor at his feet, eyes full of amused apology. “Believe me, I’ll want to hold on.”

It’s so Steve Rogers to worry about your knees.

There’s nothing you can say that won’t sound terribly gauche or overeager, so you kiss his chest and pull his pants down to his feet, kneeling as you go. You look up at him, holding eye contact as you tug down his boxer briefs--but you don’t have the bravery to keep his gaze for your first taste.

Steve’s holding himself rigidly still, but you can feel his leg muscles tighten up even more when you take him into your mouth. It’s validating as hell. You pull back, sucking, loving the feel of him, warm and vibrant and wanting you. 

At that point you let yourself bliss out, eyes closed and fully attuned to him. When he makes a guttural little sound of need after you do something, you add it to the rotation, and when he starts to rock his hips forward, you quicken your pace. Everything is perfect; the crease of the towel digging into your knees, the taste of precum in your mouth, the searing ache between your legs, and most of all, how alive Steve is under your tongue, against your hands, in your throat.

“Ahhhhh,” he groans, and slams a hand onto the counter. You realize you’d hummed in happiness, and god, he’d loved that. You let out a little moan of pleasure of your own at the thought of just how wet you’ve got to be by now.

As a reward for you both, you hum again.

That sends him, starting a glorious chaos of holding on and taking it all in. When Steve reaches down and flails at your hair and shoulder, you let him pull you up and into his arms. Steve holds you tight to his chest, right each there against the counter with his pants around his ankles, each of you pulling as much oxygen and approval into your bodies as you can.

He pets your head and leans down. “Want to know what Clint said to tell you if the first line worked?”

Two months ago you were sure you weren't good enough for him and it could never last.

One month ago you’d have worried this levity was a sign you'd done a bad job.

Now, you glare up at him in utter adoration.

“If it’s something about being barefoot in the kitchen, Rogers, I’m going to go to the bedroom and finish by myself.”

“Never mind,” he says, moving sideways just long enough to get a hand on his pants to tug them up. He does the button but not the zipper, then picks you up, heading into the hallway. At the doorway to your bedroom, Steve fucking Rogers looks down at you with a loving expression and says, “Don’t worry. I’d never leave you behind.”

[likeawildflower]

Excerpts about Yoongi from El Capitxn’s essay titled "We're still in our Interlude"

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

The final two chapters of young blood (never get chained) are up! Chapter 15 is a smutty interlude while Chapter 16 in a short and sweet epilogue.

Excerpt from Chapter 16:

“Begone, demon!” Charles eyes the cross being brandished inches from his face. “Sure, mate. Happy to begone. You just need to untie me first.” The ghost of the mad priest who’s been haunting so-called sinners—though his definition of sinner seems to be pretty girls in short skirts—bares his teeth in a vicious snarl. “I banish you to the depths of Hell.” “Been there.” Charles tests out the rope around his wrists. No luck. Whatever the wanker drugged him with seems to be wreaking havoc on his powers. “Wouldn’t recommend it, but you’ll see for yourself soon enough.” “I am a servant of God.” “You’re a cunt in a robe who likes perving on cute girls and calling it righteous.” That gets him smacked across the face with the cross, which he probably should have expected. “You are an abomination and I will—” “Cleanse me from the earth. Yeah, you mentioned.” Charles prods at the inside of his cheek with his tongue, but doesn’t taste blood. “Look, mate, between you and me, you really want to let me go.” “You cannot sway me, demon.” “Not trying to sway you. I’m trying to warn you.” Because Charles can feel Edwin approaching like a thundercloud and he’s bloody pissed. “My boyfriend’s on his way and if you untie me now, I can probably convince him not to exorcise your sorry arse.”

Read the rest here!

[sttudnobright]

Planet of the Apes: Singing and Speaking (Updated: 08/02/2025)

Before Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes came out, I was hooked by the trailer and in response I binged watched the Caesar trilogy and read all the novelisations including the ones that covered the time after Rise and Dawn.

My favourite excerpt out of all of the books was a small excerpt from War for the Planet of the Apes: Revelations where an orang-utan named Ray hears humans singing for the first time.

I really loved how Ray was trying to find things he had heard so far in his life to try and compare it to. It was a tiny part of the story and wasn't part of the plot but it was a sweet little interlude.

Now after seeing Kingdom and learning how important song is to Eagle Clan in order to bond with their eagles, I can't help but be anxious and hope that they hear humans sing too.

Singing and music has been integral to humans regardless of culture throughout our history in order to express joy, hope and excitement to anger and grief.

I don't think apes in the reboot are capable of singing in the same way as humans yet, as the actor of Proximus Caesar, Kevin Durand mentioned in response to a question at the London premiere that his character might keep some humans around to sing him songs. Seen below:

1:00 onwards, Kevin describes making Proximus' voice and from 1:51 is when he mentions Proximus keeping humans to sing.

Considering Proximus has a love/hate relationship with humans, I don't think he'd keep one around to sing if apes were capable of singing in the same way.

Either way I hope there is an opportunity in future films for this to happen. (Not a musical of course :D lol )

Speaking: Apes vs Humans

There can be a scientific reason the franchise could use as to why apes are slowly getting better at speaking and perhaps one day singing. It turns out there's slightly different morphological differences in the larynx (voice box) between apes and humans.

According to this article:

The main difference is that apes have 'small ribbon-like extensions of the vocal cords... called a vocal membrane' and 'ballon-like laryngeal structures called air sacs' . According to the article these structures help some apes and monkeys produce those loud and resonant calls and also helped prevent hyperventilation, while vocal membranes '"...allow other primates to make louder, higher pitched calls than humans - but they make voice breaks and noisy vocal irregularity more common," said evolutionary biologist... W Tecumseh Fitch of the University of Vienna.'

This could explain in part how most of the apes in the Caesar trilogy relied heavily on sign language because despite ALZ-113 affecting their intelligence, it didn't appear to do much for their vocal structures. The exception of course being Caesar, Koba and Bad Ape.

The argument can be made that Koba and Bad Ape learned to speak through sheer effort and strain albeit for different reasons. Despite their efforts however they still had to use shorter words either because they didn't have/know them or they couldn't continue the sound long enough to say them. As a result where a human could speak in longer sentences without pausing, they had to break their sentences up as they couldn't vocalise the longer words and sustain the sentence.

Caesar could be a slight exception. It was shown in War that he can speak in longer sentences with fewer pauses and could probably handle longer words. This may be because he was exposed to ALZ-112 while in utero and any slight physiological changes could have happened to his development before his birth.

Fast forward 300 years to Kingdom's timeline and most apes are speaking similar to how Caesar was in War. Though there are slight differences depending on characters. For Eagle Clan, the apes there do speak clearly and to the point. Only using the words they need to make themselves understood, however there are still pauses in the sentence and there's no noticeably long words. They don't seem to use any words longer than two syllables and if they do use words longer than that, it was uncommon.

While with Proximus, he's trying to walk a line between ape and human, so he's training himself to speak for longer and learning more complicated words though there are rare instances where he still needs to pause now and then while speaking them. For example, while he had no audible problem saying words like 'advancement', 'familiar', 'dangerous' or 'wonderful'. He did sound out the word 'evolution', breaking it down into syllables (this might have been because it was a new one he had recently learned), and when he accused Mae of being 'duplicitous' he had to pause before speaking it out loud (though he was getting quite agitated when he said this and it could have just been emotion).

This could signal that with every generation of apes (at least in this part of the world), their vocal membranes and air sacs (if they have them) are being used less and less and will run the risk of them becoming redundant and likely phased out of their physiology altogether.

The researchers stated in the article above that the loss of these tissues and our larynx evolving to be situated lower in the windpipe than in other primates. were vital to the ability of speech in humans. their loss enabled us to have 'excellent pitch control with long and stable speech sounds,' giving us '... the ability to express thoughts and feelings using articulate sounds.'

In summary it appears that our simplified voice box has allowed us to have more range to not just speak but sing as well.

In the Planet of the Apes franchise it appears with every new film that the apes may be slowly gaining this simplified structure too or at least their version of it. So who knows, maybe if there's another trilogy after Noa and Mae's story arc, apes may have evolved enough where they have the same vocal range as humans do/had.

[devirnis]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard @loucifersbitch @homerforsure @try-set-me-on-fire @eddiebabygirldiaz

An excerpt from a little something I'm hoping to have out in a few days. It's a missing scene from the restaurant AU fic, which just couldn't fit in the original given that it was entirely from Chim's POV. So I hope you enjoy this little interlude that will answer one of the most common questions from that fic: does Buck know his favourite restaurant is a front for organized crime??

“Where’s Chris?” “I took him to Pepa’s. Don’t worry, she’s getting him to school.” Guilt sweeps through Buck. “Shit,” he mutters. He hadn’t been thinking when caught an Uber to Backdraft Tavern. It had been instinct to go somewhere safe, but he hadn’t considered how much he’d be putting people out. “I should have just gone to a hotel. I shouldn’t have made you guys deal with this.” “Hey, no.” Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “I’m glad you came to us. I want you here. Now come on, you must be exhausted.”

tagging @princessfbi @bigfootsmom @honestlydarkprincess @sibylsleaves @freewayshark @exhuastedpigeon @lemonzestywrites @daffi-990 @tizniz @jesuisici33 @colonoscopys 💜