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caramelarrowswife · 3 months ago

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PLEASE, A PART 2 FOR MOTHS TO A LIGHT, IT WAS SO GOOOOODDDDDD! Maybe where Dark Cacao makes it home, and introduces Pure Vanilla to his family? Or maybe Dark Cacao and his family and troops decided to vist pure vanilla kingdom under the guise of Treaty? Augh!! So many ideas!!!

LIKE MOTHS TO A LIGHT PT.2

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Months have passed since Pure Vanilla Cookie and Dark Cacao Cookie have last seen each other. Pure Vanilla hadn’t forgotten the promise with which Dark Cacao parted, and he could only hope he would live up to his pledge.

He did not know the Moth King was a man of his word.

A/N: @janayuga's wonderful AU again, grr, THESE INSECTS WON'T GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!! i blame you for making such wonderful art

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Pure Vanilla Cookie, the King of Faerie Kingdom, was patiently tending to a wounded youngling that had fallen from the trees, their wings too new and weak to save them. The damage wasn’t as bad as their relentless screeching might’ve suggested.

The healer was awakened from his peaceful thoughts at the sudden commotion outside his den, Faeries running left and right in wild panic. He made the little Faerie promise him to stay where he was, before rushing outside to see what was happening.

“Mercurial Knight!” Pure Vanilla called out, stopping one of the panicked knights, “What is happening?! Why are we running around like madmen?!”

“The Moths, sire!” Mercurial Knight shouted back. “They’ve finally decided to conquer the Faerie Kingdom! We’re preparing for war!”

Pure Vanilla blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. Impossible.

Dark Cacao had seemed so agreeable before… was he really planning to invade this kingdom? It just wasn’t that believable.

With a flap of his mighty wings, Pure Vanilla rose high above the crowd until he saw the one he was looking for; a cookie at least a head taller than everyone else, clothing in layers, armoured heavily.

“Dark Cacao Cookie!” Pure Vanilla cried out, diving towards the other. In an instant, twenty soldiers had their spears at his head.

“Halt!” Their leader shouted, a glint of panic in his eyes. “Do not attack the Faerie King! I repeat, DO NOT ATTACK PURE VANILLA COOKIE!”

The weapons were drawn back with slight reluctance, and Pure Vanilla found himself face-to-face with the Moth King, Dark Cacao Cookie.

“What in the world are you doing?!” Pure Vanilla put his hands on his hips, staring at Dark Cacao sternly. “Invading my kingdom, just like that? Hm?”

“I wasn’t,” Dark Cacao said, a little thrown off by the other’s strict tone. “I was planning to visit again and they just.. started screaming once we crossed the border.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really! It’s not my fault they’re so skittish!” Dark Cacao protested. “Why would I want to conquer this kingdom? It’s at least half a moon cycle flying from yours to mine.”

Pure Vanilla held his gaze for a little while longer, before sighing softly. “I believe you.”

Turning to his people, he continued, “Let us calm down! These are the people of Dark Cacao Cookie, a noble king I’ve had the pleasure of meeting before. Rest assured, his men will not harm us - treat the soldiers as you would treat your family!”

Dark Cacao nodded, allowing his soldiers to scurry off. He stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak, before cutting off and clearing his throat again. “I.. apologise.. for the intrusion.”

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow, but his eyes twinkled kindly. “It sounded like it hurt you to apologise, Cacao.”

The Moth King looked away, letting out a huff. “It was a long flight, pardon me for being sore.”

Laughter escaped Pure Vanilla’s lips, and Dark Cacao felt his face redden more than it already was. He wondered if the light coming from Pure Vanilla had anything to do with the rushing of blood to his face. It must have, because the Moth King did not blush. He just didn’t.

“Come, friend,” said Pure Vanilla, arms outstretched, “Join me in my chamber. It would be my pleasure.”

“You are too kind,” Dark Cacao murmured, following the Faerie to the den he had frantically departed from just moments ago.

“It’s a lot more spacious on the inside,” Dark Cacao observed, ducking his head to enter the house. “How did you manage to do it?”

“Magic,” Pure Vanilla said mysteriously, disappearing into the back of his house.

Dark Cacao’s eyes inspected every little part of the home he had entered, a survival instinct he had obtained when he was young. It was big, but cozy nonetheless. Scrolls and books were scattered over all of the surfaces, whether that be the floor, the desks or the bookshelves they were supposed to be in.

It had its charm.

Dark Cacao straightened his back. A mistake, apparently, because he immediately bumped his head into the ceiling. He hissed, turning around - only to immediately walk into a wooden beam.

Pure Vanilla, alerted by Dark Cacao’s agonised grunt, returned to find the Moth King sitting on the ground, rubbing his forehead with a pained expression on his face. “Your ceilings should not be this low.”

Pure Vanilla managed to keep his straight face, but Dark Cacao could tell by the sparkles in his eyes that he was trying his best not to laugh.

“Oh, go on, then,” Dark Cacao grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t let me stop you from laughing, I can tell you have trouble holding it in. You’ve got a terrible poker face, really.”

“Don’t tell me you actually like hearing me laugh?” Pure Vanilla teased, crouching down by Dark Cacao.

“You are twisting my words- eh?!” Dark Cacao’s hand instinctively reached for the sleek dagger on his belt when Pure Vanilla’s hands hovered over his head. “What in the world do you think-”

“Oh, hush,” Pure Vanilla tutted, his yellow glow spoiling his annoyed act, “Be a good soldier and let me heal you.”

Nobody had ever talked to Dark Cacao that way. Pure Vanilla used his stunned silence to heal the throb in his head.

“Hmph,” Dark Cacao turned his head away. They were way too close for his liking. “..thank you.”

Pure Vanilla cupped his cheeks, the glow surrounding him spotted with pink. “Don’t look away, Cacao. I’m not done yet.”

“Do you have to hold my face for that, or what?” Dark Cacao muttered, but he found he couldn’t pull his gaze away from those mismatched eyes.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, and Dark Cacao frowned. “What?”

Pure Vanilla didn’t answer.. Dark Cacao didn’t need to know how cute his fluttering wings were.

“How long are you planning to stay for..?” Pure Vanilla murmured, thumb stroking absentmindedly over a small scar on Dark Cacao’s jaw.

"Hm.. a week or two, perhaps.. I must discuss it with my men first. Crunchy Chip Cookie gets homesick easily,,” Dark Cacao said.

“It would be my honour if you’d remain here, during those weeks.”

Dark Cacao’s eyes still hadn’t found the courage to pull away. “..if you insist.”

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ch4rryc0smos · 5 months ago

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WHERE NATURE UNMAKES THE BOUNDARY / THE PILLAR OF MYTH STILL STANDS / NEVER BELONGED TO MEN ! — SWAN UPON LEDA | HOZIER.

── . ❀ ❝ R O S E M A R Y S A F F R O N E A R L . ❞

☾ — ∞ | cancer | infj | goddess 🪶

appearance ; pale skin, mole under right corner of her bottom lip, freckles on her back, scars on her thighs and hands, forest / jade green eyes, 5'11 [180 cm], softer features and body, dimples when she smiles, very long & wavy ombre [brown-blonde] hair, a few metres long probably.

beliefs ; there's good in the world, and everyone is granted the privilege to it, until they revoke that right. kindness deserves more credit for being the reason the world has thrived so far.

⋆ ─ first loves fundamentally change the way someone perceives love, and sometimes; it's cruel. ⋆ ─ redeeming oneself isn't as hard as it seems, all you need is the mindset; it's a type of healing too, right?

personality ; empathetic, vigilant, attuned to surroundings, gentle, kind, selfless, observant, diligent, meticulous, collected, intuitive, charismatic, nurturing, caring.

positive traits ; compassionate, selfless, empathetic, kind, voice of reason, accountable, notices other's emotions & fluctuations in behaviour[s].

negative traits ; anxious, bottles up her emotions, skeptic [has trust issues], struggles with boundaries, overworks, cares too hard, doesn't share when she's struggling [doesn't want to burden], far too independent.

likes ; nature, psychology, sociology, anthropology, freedom of expression, anarchy, deep conversations, late-night detours, coffee, biology, museums, gardens, lakes, deers, sculptures, art of living, elder faerie & mercurial knight.

dislikes ; arthropods, heights, loud noises, narrow-mindedness, extreme temperatures, snobby cookies, arrogance, dishonesty, being under pressure, confrontation, disorganised places, being treated like a slave, being belittled and invalidated, disrespect, conflicts.

deepest secrets ; always wanted to be more than just the embodiment of everything, because despite being everything, she always felt like nothing. at heart she wanted nothing more than to be uplifted rather than be walked all over.

⋆ ─ sometimes the weight of feeling everything all at once is more than she can bear and more than she can explain. ⋆ ─ there's days where she feels jealous of those that don't feel the way she does, don't think the way she does, and she wishes more than anything, that she was them.

── . ❀ ❝ B A C K S T O R Y . ❞

IF there was one thing that her many years on earthbread taught her, it's that kindness wouldn't have gotten her anywhere. rosemary saffron earl knew she should've been one of the best, if not the best of the creations. she knew she was created from the very base of creation, her ingredients were scavenged from the earth the witches tread on, she knew the soil like a fellow, and the leaves like their veins were her own. and yet, she'd been abandoned, considered lethal, powerful, but deemed useless.

she won't ever forget the day, the day she was thrown out, nearly crumbled, her frosting threatening to slip, her dough crumbling slightly as she dragged herself further down the paths she knew were stolen from to create her. maybe if she apologised for their wrongdoings, she'd be granted another chance at life by the gods who'd witnessed her exile.

and so, she prayed, she prayed as parts of her crumbled away that she'd be granted another chance at whatever life could offer a discarded cookie. for the longest time, she didn't know where she was, didn't know what crispia was, or where beast yeast could be, she didn't know a lot of things, but she did know how to take care. how to give herself to the world that the witches that created her took so much from. and the world took, oh the world took.

they took from her being, her soul, her wings, once being pearly white, glimmering golden as they flexed, now dusted with the softest graze of the soil that she trudged on. one another thing she learnt was that she really was different, that no, no one else felt everything, every sigh of the forest and the way roots of trees curled in on themselves when they heard their fellows lose their lives. no one was like her, no one was made from the soil they tarnished.

but she didn't mind, no, she learnt to love. she learned to accept what was made of her, and she learned to love other cookies for what she can't be, uplift them the way she won't ever get to be, and care for them in the ways they deserve. it's through her love that she found the travellers that offered to take her along to beast yeast, for the very first time. they warned her of the things that existed there, but she did not falter to that. she's seen worse, been through hell and back, and she can tolerate this too.

well, at least that's what she thought. but it didn't go exactly like that. when she finally reached beast yeast, she found it in shambles, to her, it was. she found new cookies, new creatures, but all of them were distressed, even the winged, the faeries, the cookies she'd heard and learnt so much about, they were hurt, they were fighting in a war. and that's when she promised to dedicate herself to protecting their cause, and them, by extension. that's the day she learnt more about the war that'd been tearing away at crispia, at those nights spent up consoling children while she hoped their parents would return safely. for so long, she didn't truly understand the brevity of it.

she didn't understand a lot, until she was asked to present herself to the king, the guardian of the silver tree. the tree she'd been diligently tending to, feeling the faint thrumming of souls within. she'd been asked to step up from the sidelines. that day, she realised that she wouldn't be admiring him or the king from afar. that's the first time she showed up to his castle, adorned in her intricately sewn dress, worked on by silverbell, looking at her feet as she counted every clink from the charms hanging off her antlers.

and then she heard his voice, a quiet clear of his throat, and she looked up. elder faerie looked even more majestic up close than she thought he did from a distance. and beside him stood his duty-bound second in command, mercurial knight. she doesn't think she'll ever forget the way her breath hitched that quiet night under the moon, the first moment of quiet after many weeks of war, of carnage, of fear, of knowing that a cookie she'd once met had turned into something much more vile, a creature too corrupted by the witches. but she couldn't think of that, not when elder faerie's voice gently asked her to sit down, to have a moment with him and mercurial.

she thinks that might've been the night her fate was sealed with them. it was every other night after that she spent with them. at the start it was strategy, her healing progress, the meticulous manner through which she'd been maintaning elder faerie's land, and then it got personal, then it was about her wings, the ones she barely used to fly, but mercurial said he liked.

their quiet nights of peace didn't last too long though, one of those quiet nights was what bled into a war-filled day, the day she got struck while protecting silverbell. it was that day she nearly lost her wings, the day she wouldn't ever feel them again, but he saved her. he found her when she couldn't feel her own dough, but had to tend to silverbell. that was also the last day he thought he'd see the faint glimmer of her otherworldly wings.

only a few hours later was when elder faerie found out about what happened on the battlefield. that was the start of the few months he'd spend awake with her, consoling her as she lost her voice most nights, tracing shapes on her back, patterns, asking her what she liked, shapes, colours.

what she didn't know was that he was planning much more than she'd expected. that even with the fear of the war taking away everything they loved, he wanted to give back to her what she'd offered to his world like it would've been nothing to her. that's when he made her wings, beautiful, translucent, colourful, like his. those were the nights he and mercurial told her about their fears of losing themselves in this war-torn earthbread.

it was also one of those days that they asked her for more than her devotion, asked her to seal her fate, and theirs in turn. in the quiet of the night elder faerie and mercurial knight to be theirs.

── . ❀ ❝ C U R R E N T . ❞

SHE doesn't remember a lot of things nowadays, but rosemary could never forget the day they got married. she would never forget the look of peace and contentment on his face despite the fear of something going wrong, she remembers the drag of her gown behind her, the way he looked at her like he might've devoured her on the spot. she doesn't think she'll ever forget.

not the (not so) quiet night that followed or the first month that felt like a fever dream. but she remembers the days even then that she spent, sitting the base of the silver tree, tracing her fingers over the ridges in the trunk, and trying to contain the beasts in this continent.

now she spends her days tending to her husbands, silverbell, the faerie kingdom, and letting the children braid garlands into her hair, whispering about her wings and how they wished they had wings like hers. or something like it. but through her husbands, she meets the ancients she thought were long gone, she meets the children that are leading themselves a path of great exertion, something that asks for too much, and gives not nearly enough in return; the path she'd been following for so long.

and she wants to stop them, but they don't want to be stopped. they want to make a change, make earthbread a better place, and so when they ask her to help them, assist them on their journey, who is she to not give herself to a world that won't give anything back?

her husbands weren't particularly happy, no, they won't ever be, when she'll put herself in danger just like that, like her life doesn't matter, but they also cannot, will not stop her. she's capable. she's the living embodiment of life.

and if there's anyone that can do something, they know it'll be her. they'll have her for the nights, sometimes during the day; but they'll let her make the change she wanted to, for so long. they won't stop her, not now, not ever.

their wife is capable, she is a goddess, she was crafted from the very soil which they walk on, and like it; she is strong, she is omnipresent everywhere. and she knows it too.

── . ❀ appears in francesca [wip].

★ ; my first crk self insert, i actually have three, so, make what you might of that :') i hope you like her, i'll work on the second after this, and honestly, not sure about the third, but maybe, hope you like her though ! <3

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