#but i think moths would be a wonderful symbol of their love

[alabasterpeony]

re: fav mlp ships - here’s a maybe-too-long list of suggestions, mostly main 6 but a few others in there as well

TwiJack

TwiDash

AppleDash

AppleTwiDash

AppleShy

FlutterLuna

TwiLuna

TwiPie

StarTrix

StarMaudTrix

RariTwi

RariDash

I feel like I don't see much flutterluna?? But they would be so gentle to each other, especially since Luna hasn't really experienced that kind of love imo

loosely inspired by the butterfly couple by j.c. leyendecker

[raayllum]

ALRIGHT, time to talk about the poster in lovely HD.

First things first, I want to talk about these two ladies (?). The upper one closer to the moon looks more like an elf, and is gazing down at the second, closer woman. I've seen people speculate Ziard due to the hair, but none of this usual clothing appendages are there, so I lean towards a new character, and possibly being the human Aaravos had a special connection to. We see what looks like the arches of the Moon Nexus framed behind them, which was the case both when Rayla went through the portal in TTM and when Lujanne used historia viventum to show Callum the way things looked before. Souls of hate and love, maybe?

We see other Moon symbols throughout the posture sure as archangel lunarises, which seek out Moon magic (1x01) and can be used in illusion spells (2x03, 3x09). We also see the enchanted lotuses from 3x03, though for what purpose is unclear (more on that later).

Moving down, we have a fully celestial, quite happy Aaravos. He's in full flourish and clearly using Moon magic for someone, as begetting the moon behind him, though whether he's constructing lotuses or channeling energy into his Key (perhaps making it able to sense Moon magic) is unknown. While the lotuses in 3x03 were occasionally different colours, the deep purple here makes me think of dark magic. If he is channeling his cube, perhaps he's taking moon energy from the lotuses (or moths) surrounding him to put inside.

I don't think I need to scream much further than I already have about the Moon rune glowing on his Key and having it displayed with his usual star symbol (rune cube foreshadowing symbolism my beloved). This bodes well for theories in which 1) Callum goes too far and does something knowingly risky to free the Moon fam for Rayla's sake or 2) does something risky to help Aaravos to protect Rayla's life, each subsequently to being possessed and/or playing into Aaravos' hands. Thank you goodnight.

Then we have the book, which is deeply fascinating. It seems like a very Moon book, the fragments framing it similar to the ones we see on the lotuses and possibly evoking one of the archangel lunaris' flying around. It wouldn't surprise me if the book contains a variant of Deep moon magic of some kind, whatever that would look like. The crescent curved moon is also similar to the symbol we see on Aaravos' poem page for the Midnight Star in show (2x08). I do wonder why each side of the book looks so different though, with no actual visible moon in sight besides the tiny gemstones and the crescent moon, the other side being entirely dark (which, to be fair, is pretty moon-y).

We also sort of but don't quite see Aaravos' famous chest piece, though it is a-glowing. Whether it glowed all the time pre-Fall we just don't know, as the only time we've seen it glow/be filled in is 2x09 when he's channeling magic through Viren, but who knows. It does mean that the cube is even older than his banishment and that if it does hold his chest piece, it was placed after (if it's tangible at all, which has always been one of the biggest questions).

This is perhaps the weirdest thing that I am the most interested in, as alongside his crown and bangles, this is the biggest design difference between Aaravos in-show and out. In show, both in his mirror and even 'pre-Fall' (aka the timeline for the 1x01 shot is probably a lie anyway), Aaravos' hip thingy is a lot more simplistic.

However, Aaravos does have all his flowery (and I mean that literally, it looks like petals) adornment in his concept art.

The fact they have a lotus flower flair to them always felt interesting but ultimately like a coincidence, but perhaps not. Either way as pictured below, it seems like he's either constructing or dismantling the lotuses, which is Eyes Emoji either way.

The most... surely metaphorical / abstract portion of the poster, though, is I'd imagine the very bottom. I hesitate to read into things too literally (one of the S5 posters had Finnegrin's ship being blasted with lightning and Domina watching the waves, and while she featured in the season and played a role in Finnegrin's aims, the scene itself as portrayed did not come fully to fruition) so I'm gonna go with a more symbolic read, just as as disclaimer.

Lastly we have these two figures. I'm assuming the one in white is an elf and betting on young Aaravos or Leola, though it could be someone else connected to the Moon arcanum (the elven daughter who vouched for exiling rather than eliminating humanity?). The red and black shadow figure feels far more sinister (blood and stardust, anyone) but if you lighten the shadows, you get something even more... interesting, shall we say.

Rather than standing up straight, this figure almost seems to swoop down with a draconic like claw and a face that reminds me the most of Sir Sparklepuff's features, honestly, perhaps boasting a similar kind of blood (Viren's) and star (Aaravos) and dark magic (the staff?). It is also clearly moving toward the more humanoid figure on the bottom right, which gives a "corruption is reaching / coming for / offering things to you" sort of vibe.

[kentopedia]

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 6.3k words

PART IV ♰ MASTERLIST

The next evening came quickly, and for the first time in a long while, you were able to sleep through the day. Morning came and went, and the sun faded away without you lying awake, miserable, missing the light of day.

Although Dazai emitted no warmth, you still slept soundly on his chest, the feeling of his arms around you comforting in a way that was undeniable.

When you awoke to another starry sky, clouded over by a mist of smoke, the coffin was empty, and Dazai was gone. The thin blanket pooled at your feet, kicked aside, there for no other reason but for the semblance of a routine where you slept wrapped within soft covers. A beam of light sifted through the cracked coffin, lid pushed to the side, allowing the silver moonlight to caress you gently back to an air of life.

Sitting up, you pushed the coffin lid aside, swallowing the wave of regret that swam through your body. Atsushi’s gentle smile lit up your mind, and you shut your eyes briefly, trying to will it away.

This was a mistake—everything had been a mistake from the moment you’d found Dazai in that bar. It was a mistake to ever think you could drink from him without letting him drag you down with him. Never had you been able to deny yourself the indulgence of his lips, the taste of him so fond in your memories, and you’d been naïve to think this time would be different.

“You slept like the dead,” Dazai said with a cheeky smile, sauntering over to sit at the edge of the bed, staring at you from feet away. Your lips drew together, thin, unamused.

The shift in the air was palpable, the string of oxygen between you pulled tight. Though, you were grateful that Dazai was the one to break the silence, as you still mulled over something to say, observing the subtle little changes in his countenance.

For one, you couldn’t recall a time that he had ever looked so happy, so carefree. A brightness had resumed itself, as if only on pause for half of a century, erasing the resentment, the bitter hatred that had clouded it. The smile on his dark lips tugged upward easily, his eyes an ambered brown, rather than the black that they had once been.

Things were different—that much was certain. Whatever had transpired between the two of you couldn’t be erased, nor could you eradicate the guilt that had threatened to swallow you whole. The two options clashed against each other; a loss too great on both sides. At the end of it all, your feelings for both Atsushi and Dazai were overwhelming, and complicated.  

But you couldn’t think, not when Dazai was so close. Not when you were a moth, and he was the flame, burning bright, and only growing more vicious.

“I need to go home,” you said, gathering your shoes, the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. “I shouldn’t have even come here.”

A beat of silence lingered in the room, settling on the hardwood floors, the soles of your feet, before Dazai stood, his footsteps not making a single sound.

“After all that?” Dazai asked, and though he would never let his surprise show so openly, you knew he’d believed you’d been won over.

That’s all it would’ve taken, back then—a few sweet words, your lips on his, gentle hands across your skin. But you were not the woman you’d once been, and though you were still weak, you’d developed some strength.

“After everything, how can you still doubt that we are meant to be together?”

You pinched your face together, wondering if you were a fool for running back to Atsushi. If your love for the mortal man was only a means to an end, a way for you to forget the clutch that another vampire had around your heart. How Dazai’s fingers could squeeze their way around your arteries, and you would watch, blindly, as the blood trickled down his palm.

Was it love or hate you felt? Of both, you were uncertain.

“Osamu,” you said, shaking your head, your gaze drifting towards the window. What a mess you’d made. “I need some time to think.”

That relaxed him; the tautness of his frame slowly began to melt away. “Time.” He nodded, dark hair falling over even darker eyes. “Okay. I can give you that.”

“I love him, Osamu.”

“You love me too. You can deny it all you want, but I know that you do.”

You looked over at him, blinking from under your lashes. “I don’t know what I feel for you. It was not so long ago that you destroyed me. I have hated you as strongly as I once loved you.”

His face twitched, fingers flexing at his sides. The age old tells of his anger, just as prevalent as the stars in the sky, never ceasing to appear at the end of every day. “Will you never forgive me?” he asked, clenching his jaw, tongue appearing in his cheek. “I have given you everything I have to offer. Your life… my life.”

“You haven’t given me patience, Osamu. You haven’t given me the chance to believe that your love is worth the pain that comes with it.”

Dazai looked away, chest rising and falling with the air he didn’t breathe, but made himself anyway, keeping up the appearance of a human being. He had always been so much better at that – perhaps it was the reason he had lived this long. No one had doubted his place in the world, had mistaken him for a monster, unlike the innocent lives that had been lost to such a slaughter.

“Is patience really something I can offer when you are to wed another? Surely your fiancé will grow weary of waiting,” he said, stepping closer, expression serious, devoid of his usual smugness. “You want time, but it is slipping through my fingers.”

“You have nothing left but time.” You shook him off, ignoring the pulsating need that thrummed through your body, never satiated, always wanting more. Your gaze flicked to his vein, then away, as you pushed past him, headed to the door. “Don’t come after me. I will not give you any more chances.”

Dazai said nothing, irritated, but he let you go, and you escaped into the dark haze of the midnight.

Your meetings with Dazai stalled for a few days, as Atsushi returned, and you were left with a muddled mind and a mix of contradicting thoughts. It was best anyway, you figured, to put some distance between you and Dazai, in order for you to work out exactly what it was that was going on.

Despite the conflict you felt within yourself—for wanting to love Dazai once more, for wanting to hate him—you didn’t entirely trust him. Years of memories pointed to a Dazai that was so similar, yet vastly different from the version he presented to you. One that was just as manipulative, conniving, yet held a loyalty and a steadfast love for you that had since been unbroken.

Though, love was easily faked, especially for someone like Osamu. You, with your weak heart, were probably falling right into his trap. How foolish you would be to leave a perfectly good life behind for a man that you could never fully trust, despite how much you yearned for him.

Yet, he never left your mind, always lingering like a curse. Some part of you wondered if there was a deeper magic at play, if maybe, the bond between you as creation and maker had tied you so intricately together than you would always long for him.

But you knew nothing of that…if magic existed outside of the bloodsucking demons that you had joined, if there was a world out there of other supernatural entities you knew nothing about.

Still, it would explain nearly all of your everlasting woes. How Dazai could fuck up time and time again, and you would still crawl back to him, albeit reluctantly. How you craved his blood like a brainless addict, sacrificing your pride for just another hit.

You hoped, if even a little bit, that that was true. At least, that way, you could explain your desperation for him without it being something as complex as love. Something that you could avoid, if you really tried, rather than letting yourself indulge, thinking that you couldn’t help it.

It was cold when Atsushi returned, the weather already growing fickle as autumn bled into winter. He looked better, his eyes brighter, his skin less pale than it had been when he left. His hair seemed freshly scrubbed, clean from a bath at whatever hotel he’d visited for the few nights of escape.

Though, under his softer complexion, you could see the weight that still rested on Atsushi’s shoulders, and the burden that he’d worn for the past few weeks.

Smiling, you watched as he walked through the door, trudging in his heavy boots. There was certainly more life to him now, now that he wasn’t constantly sent on missions, awake for hours into the evening, until his eyes ran bloodshot.

“I missed you,” you said, stretching your arms over to him, body reacting to him, just as it did Dazai. The joy that spread across you was warm, despite the lack of utter feeling that something lingered in your chest.

Atsushi relaxed, then, tension falling from his shoulders. Almost like he’d expected you to start the conversation a different way – a thought that you instantly sequestered.

“I missed you too, honey,” Atsushi said, leaning down to peck your lips, his hair brushing across your forehead. “Everything okay while I was gone?”

Words of a dutiful husband, lover, friend – despite that fact that anyone who could have possibly hurt you wouldn’t be fazed by the presence of a human.

“Everything’s been fine,” you hummed, ignoring the vision of you on Dazai’s thighs that flashed into your mind, your teeth digging into the flesh of his neck. “How are you feeling?”

Atsushi looked at you for a moment longer, memorizing each of your features after just a few days away, and put on a gentle smile. His fingers grazed the sharp hollows of your cheeks, the coldness of your skin sending a shiver down his arm. Goosebumps trailed along his flesh, the hair standing straight up, but he didn’t seem bothered. Not after two years of the same routine.

“I’m better.” The words held little conviction, though, and you couldn’t help but feel that there was something bothering him still.

Or you were just paranoid that he had somehow found out you were protecting Dazai.

Protecting.

Was that the word? You’d been trying to protect Atsushi, hadn’t you? By keeping him away from Dazai. Yet, the more you lingered on it, the more you began to question if that was even the case at all.

Atsushi kissed the wrinkle that formed on your forehead, and you held his hand tightly against your cheek, grounding yourself. How much better things would be if Dazai had left in the first place, if he’d just stayed far away, and never approached you at your party. Had never killed anyone in your town, overworking your partner and murdering your neighbors.

“I’m glad,” you said, instead of focusing on things that could’ve been. You brushed Atsushi’s hair away from his face, his hair so much softer than you remembered—cleaner. “You look better. I’m glad you were able to get some rest.”

“Yeah, well,” Atsushi sighed, shrugging. “Honestly, I’m not sure how much of a difference it made. I’ll just be heading back into work tomorrow. They’ve found more bodies, I hear. I’m sure I’ll just be back to where I was before soon. Everyone’s exhausted.”

You frowned again, pausing your gentle caress against the back of Atsushi’s palm. So that was what was wrong with him. You’d been so busy with Dazai, that you hadn’t even stopped to think that he was still killing people. It seemed you’d been caring for little other than yourself, these days.

“Good thing they’ve got their best detective back, then,” you said, trying for a more light-hearted tone. “I’m sure you’ll be able to solve this in no time, Atsushi.”

Still, he seemed unconvinced—but he kissed your forehead one more time, relaxing. He left you, then, to change out of his day clothes before sliding back into bed. It had been days since you’d last fed off of Dazai’s blood, but you didn’t feel so reckless, so hungry, that this sort of proximity left you with an aching need to bite Atsushi. Instead, you felt warm, consoled by his presence, and reminded of how gentle you could be, despite your nature.

“I love you,” you said quietly, as he slowly began to drift off, his breathing turning into a snore. “I hope you never forget it.”

A little laugh left him, but something about it seemed nervous—had you really left Atsushi to doubt your affection for him? Though, after all the things you’d done, you probably deserved that sort of karma.

“I know,” Atsushi said, humming, squeezing your hand under the covers. “Sometimes, that’s the only thing that I’m certain of.”

The memory of Atsushi’s words left a sour taste in your mouth that lingered as you slept through the day, a palpable anger tensing your body. The rage ran rampant through you from all of Dazai’s lies, promises that he had not kept. At the truth that he’d admitted before – that everything he’d done was to keep Atsushi occupied and away from you.

Dazai was not at the bar when you went the next night, and Atsushi worked late, still out when you left your home after sundown. And when you returned, with a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied by the gutter rats, your fiancé slept, soundly, hardly alert enough to hear your footsteps against the creaky floors.

You sat in the corner of the room, staring at the cracks of moonlight that brightened into orange rays, wishing once more that you could brush your fingertips along them, if only for a moment, to remember what it was like to be alive.

The routine continued. Anger consumed you, but Dazai didn’t return to the bar the next night. Or the night after that.

“Are you eating enough?” Atsushi had said that morning, the sixth day that you had gone without Dazai’s blood. You’d become irritable, snapping at him over the smallest things.

Digging your nails into your arm, the scarlet warmth dripping down to your elbow as you tried to distract yourself from the thrumming through Atsushi’s veins, you’d nodded and changed the subject.

You knew that you looked awful, and your promises were not believed by Atsushi. Your faded complexion was ghastly, inhuman. How easy it would be to give yourself away to others, for them to see that your humanity and morality was but a farce – it was much too obvious now, that you walked around looking like you’d just crawled out of the grave.

Dazai did not show up at the bar again, and desperately, you went to his hotel, hopeful that he had not moved.

It was loud outside of the building, despite nearing midnight. A crowd of drunk men loitered outside of the building, cheering their glasses together. They sang a plethora of songs in untuned keys, stumbling over their feet to get to one another. Women lined the streets, silk dresses with revealing necklines, smiling for men who would never be able to deserve them.

Despite the scene outside, the hotel was relatively quiet, many of the tenants asleep for the night. The clerk at the front desk seemed unbothered that you waltzed in, already headed towards the stairs, without bothering to speak with him.

You had been in such a disoriented state the last time you’d been here that you’d forgotten to look around, take in the atmosphere of the hotel. It was, really, a miracle that you’d even found your way there.

It wasn’t much on the outside, modest and unassuming, and the interior was anything but. Bright colors of gold and green that you only vaguely remembered from your previous visit adorned the inside, leather couches circling a vast library of books. A pair of older men, smoking cigars, fumbled over a game of chess, their shadowy eyes revealing that they were both desperate to call it quits. A young woman, perhaps the same age that you’d been when you died, perched in a chair, wearing a beautiful gown of rose pink, soothed a crying infant.

It was certainly with its’ grandeur, though that was to be expected, with the centuries of wealth Dazai had lining his pockets. You couldn’t imagine he’d stay anywhere less than impressive.

The man at the desk smiled at you in recognition, and you realized that you must have spoken to him when you’d last been here – or, Dazai had told him to let you pass if you were to come. Just another way you’d fallen into his trap, an endless scheme that was nothing more than a game to him. You were being played, not the other way around.

Still, you trudged up the stairs like a wounded soldier, surrendering. The rage had settled deep within your chest, flattening. Even with the betrayal that encompassed your memories of Dazai, you would always turn into a different sort of person when you were hungry.

Before you could regret your actions, you knocked on the door, once, then again, running your hands along the smooth skin of your forearms. There was a noise from inside, a soft sort of giggle, before the door opened, revealing Dazai, eyes dark, but a smile on his face, nonetheless.

“There you are,” he said, closing his fingers around your wrists, pulling you through the threshold before anyone could see you. He seemed to be clouded over with affection, or lust—but of which, you weren’t certain. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

He kissed you, then, soft, and gently, the way that Atsushi greeted you when you returned home. It was too loving, the quick peck of Dazai’s lips, and you scowled, drawing backwards, the irritation resurfacing.

“Osamu,” you said, sharply, creating a clear division between you and him. “I told you –”

But the words died on your lips when you glanced behind him, noticing the pretty, young woman that was perched on the end of the bed. She laughed again, cheeks flushed red under her tanned skin, dark hair flat across her shoulders. The woman gave you a small little wave, not in the slightest embarrassed, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

You blinked, drawing your gaze slowly away from her, back to Dazai, who was still grinning, teeth glinting in the moonlight, predatory and wicked. His expression was a clear vision of all the reasons you should have stayed far away from him, why what little trust you had for him would continue to rise and fall, until you’d gone so many steps backwards that you would be right where you had been.

“What—” But you stopped yourself, trying to gather the right words, to not sound like a jealous fiend, while still demanding answers.

Dazai, to his credit, and all of his promises that things were different this time, did not give you a chance to finish your sentence. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said, gesturing back towards her, before licking his lips. “I’m not… Not like that.”

You stared at him; eyes hard as you searched for a lie. But he’d always been so talented at dishonesty, and you had never been very good at sorting the truth out of fraudulence. “Then what is it? You’re bringing your dinner back to your room now, for no reason? How do you plan to get rid of the body, Osamu? You’re going to have to leave, you know. Someone could see.”

Though, that thought should’ve made you happier, you realized that you almost sounded disappointed, that you were helping him, when you’d been telling yourself to expel him from your city for months.

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m certainly not worried about any of the detectives in this town,” he said, the jab at your fiancé not going unnoticed. “I’ve thrown them off my trail enough times at this point.”

You frowned, wrapping your arms around yourself in protection as Dazai led you forward, a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Besides, she’s not for me, darling.”

The words took a moment to sink in, as you stared at the woman, so peaceful, unassuming, despite everything that she’d clearly heard. You could hear her heart beating under her skin, the color in her cheeks so bright and warm, nothing even close to death. Long breaths escaped her, and she smiled at you, so sweetly, that for a moment, you were considering –

Before the reality of the situation dawned upon you, and you jerked out of Dazai’s hold, away from the young woman, and slapped your former lover across the cheek.

The sound resounded through the room, but the force did little to even jerk his cheek. He stayed still, amused, and held your wrist loosely in his palm once more. “Would you listen—”

“I don’t feed off humans anymore,” you said, your words sharp, eyes narrowed angrily. “I promised myself two years ago that I would not, and I have been true to my word. Yet, here you are, the vilest creature I have ever set my sights upon, trying to lead me back down a road that leads to nothing but emptiness.”

Dazai blinked, before erupting into a fit of laughter. “A tad dramatic, even for you, my love. This is but a manifestation of your very nature as a vampire.” His gaze drew across your features, the way your hunger was evident in the curl of your fangs over your lips, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep from lunging at the poor woman. “You cannot deny the hunger that you feel—”

“It’s wrong, Osamu,” you spat bitterly, thinking of your mortal fiancé back home, who would not deserve this sort of end. How easily he could’ve been the one lured to the wolves’ den by Dazai, sitting on the bed of a vampire, none the wiser to the fact that he was to be someone’s dinner. “I was once a human too, was I not?”

Dazai laughed once more, mocking you, this time. For clinging onto the little bit of humanity that you had left, even after all this time. “As was I. But how long has it been since you were human?”

You said nothing.

Dazai crept closer, eyes like a hawk, so sharp and pointed along every line of your body. They flashed a deep ebony, drowning out the sweet caramel colors that always lingered in his irises. “You have always deluded yourself, and you continue to do so.” His fingers were back against your cheek, like long, protruding icicles, against even your icy flesh. “You feel so much better when I’m the one doing the killing, that you can’t see that drinking from me is just as bad as doing the killing yourself.”

Your jaw slackened, falling open, and, despite your better judgement, you let him draw his fingertips across your lips, softly smiling at the delicate feeling of them. “What do you mean?”

“I kill twice as many humans to keep up with your ever-increasing appetite. You might as well have done the deed on your own.” Dazai drew the words out, bored, waving his hand dismissively. And though you had to have known that, could feel in the deepest depths of your soul that that was true, you’d been all too happy to ignore it.

To continue on believing that your choice to use him as a blood source was for the benefit of not only you, but the humans you refused to kill, to bleed to death.

Dazai pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the feeling of his lips, a touch so sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. “You can feed from her without killing her,” he said, drawing you closer and closer to the woman, though you felt stiff as your regret whirled under your skin. Dazai held you to his chest, and you let him, basking in the familiar touch, the familiar hatred and love baked into one emotion that had always confused you.

“You won’t stop me,” you said, mouth moving, though the words didn’t entirely feel your own. You stared at the girl over Dazai’s shoulder, who seemed in a drunk daze, Dazai’s manipulation working against her. “You’ll say you will, but you’re a liar, Dazai.”

“I will. I’ve stopped you before, haven’t I?” he pulled back, meeting your eyes, brushing your hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You began to object, to remind him of how little his promises meant to you, but you could feel the hunger multiplying, it’s claws deep inside of you. It felt like a physical force on its own, and you couldn’t remember a time when you had been so at its mercy, except when you were first reborn, a foolish child with Dazai’s blood coursing through your veins.

And though you wanted to hate him, to blame him for all of your troubles, to call him nothing but a deceiver, you wondered if he really had been telling the truth. If all your years of rejecting human blood had turned you back into the version of yourself that you had not been in a century, of a young vampire who had no control in the face of human blood.

“I’m stronger than you,” Dazai said, following the line of thought in your head, swiping his fingers across the wrinkle there. “It will help you. You won’t crave my blood so often.”

“It won’t taste as good.”

Dazai laughed at the small pout that puckered on your lips, and though you had meant to only think the words, they slipped out anyways. He kissed the frown away, startling you, and yet, you kissed him back, if only for a moment.

“I know it won’t, sweetheart.” Dazai licked his own lips, savoring the taste of you that remained. “But it’ll be better than those rats you’ve been eating, won’t it?”

Always so persuasive, that sharp tongue of his. How easily he could get you to cave with the promise of something so divine, and the lustful glint that coiled in his eyes. You held onto the single shred of morality that was slowly dissipating as you contemplated his sincerity. Then, you let it go, released, and nodded.

Satisfaction curled across Dazai’s expression, and he pulled you over to the bed, the woman, blinking up at you from under her thick lashes. She smiled, almost playful, and another giggle escaped her. “She’s prettier than you promised.”  

Dazai, eyes glued to you, softened. “Isn’t she? There’s no one else quite like her.”

For all your resentment towards Dazai, you felt the curl of warm satisfaction spread across your chest, and you glanced away bashfully, hating how he still looked at you with such love. How hard it was getting, every day, to ignore the fact that, maybe, everything he did really was for you and you alone.  

“Sit beside her, my love,” Dazai said, leading you to one side of the bed, guiding you into a seated position. Your knees brushed against the human’s, and she pressed it closer, tilting her head away to expose the vein that protruded along her neck.

“Osamu—” you said, glancing up at him with doubt. “I will kill her if you don’t stop me.”

“I know.”

“And if you don’t stop me, I will hate you forever.”

His smile widened, a grimace almost, but he acknowledged that with a nod, and waved his hand, urging you to continue.

You dragged your gaze away from him, back to the impatient woman, who was far too excited for you to slowly drain the life from her. She placed a soft hand on your thigh, the warmth seeping through your skirt, a reminder of the life she had swirling in her veins.

It was enough to propel you forward, and you breathed along her collarbone, ignoring the annoying pang of your heart that wished it was Dazai instead. Your fangs sunk into her neck, and the blood rushed along your tongue, down your throat, a flash of white snapping across your vision.

The thoughts drained from your mind, and you were no longer inside yourself, losing your senses in the sensation of the blood, and how warm it felt in your mouth as it settled in your body. Your fingers curled around her shoulders, and you dragged her closer, hearing a soft little moan leave her mouth as you sucked your lips harder.

It was nowhere near the exhilarating rush of Dazai’s blood, but it was warmer, more satisfying, similar to the fullness you’d received after eating a slab of red meat as a human. You weren’t tethered to the girl like you were your maker, but it was different getting the fresh human blood from the source.

You felt stupid, silly, for always rejecting the need to drink from mortals, when you could remember how good it felt. That was all it would take for you to not feel so empty, day in and day out, only longing for the days when you had never cared at all. It seemed nothing more than a daydream – those days when you were just as bad as Dazai, who had always killed and enjoyed it.

“Enough, my darling,” Dazai said, pinching your jaw, slowly coaxing you off of the woman, careful not to tear her throat while your teeth still latched on.

You tried to push him away, a deep sound reverberating in the back of your throat, but Dazai thrust his slit wrist in front of you, the smell overwhelming, better than the scent of the woman’s sweet blood and perfume.

“I have something better,” he smiled, running his hand over the top of your head as he stood before you, looking far too godly in the silver moonlight. “And I kept my promise, didn’t I?”

You didn’t answer, too busy swallowing the large gulps you had taken of his blood, softly kissing the skin that had broken there. Your nails curled into his forearm, pulling him close as his palm rested on the top of your head, fingertips lightly scratching against your scalp.

“Dazai—” the girl began, and though you were irritated that he’d even told her his name, the blood soothed you as it rushed down your throat.

“Thank you for your generosity, my dear.” Dazai said to her, in that deep, soothing voice of his that he used to compel humans. “You won’t be needed any longer. Go downstairs and forget any of this evening even happened.”

In a trance, the woman left, woozy, still full of laughter as she stumbled across the floor. Her hair had fallen from the clips, dress strap slipping off her shoulder, but Dazai didn’t bother to tell her. Instead, when you came off of his wrist, a gasp expelling from your lungs, Dazai pushed you back onto the bed, crawling over you, kissing all over your face.

Your eyes shot wide for just a moment, before you relaxed into him, threading your fingers through his hair, let him taste his own blood on your mouth. His tongue darted across your bottom lip, swiping the blood that had gathered there, before he moaned, the sound a vibration against your skin.

“Fuck,” he said, coaxing your hands from his scalp, pinning them to the bed. You could feel him straining against his pants, his clothed cock brushing up against your thigh. “The things you do to me.” Dazai kissed up your neck, across your jaw, lacing your fingers together. A soft sigh left you, and you let your head rest delicately on the bed. “I love you,” he whispered, just beneath your jaw, words so gentle that you began to believe them.

You glanced up as he backed away, hair falling down over his forehead as he stared at you, caressing your cheek. The haze of his blood still consumed you, but you felt so light under his hold, like the burdens of your entire life could fade away entirely from his touch. “Osamu,” you began, kissing his fingertips, though the smile didn’t pull entirely on your face, too uncertain.

He sighed, and then sat up, his knees still on either side of your hips, a frown furrowing his features. You crawled out from under him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, before he pushed you back, running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s the matter?” you said, reaching for him, even as he evaded your grasp.

Dazai sat at the edge of the bed, his hair mussed, expression vacant. He didn’t answer your question immediately, and swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You laughed, dizzy, as you crawled over to him. “What do you mean, Osamu?”

But once again, he evaded your touch, standing, stalking to the other side of the room, holding only a loose rope on his anger. “I miss you. So badly. I want you; I love you, but I don’t know how to make you come back to me.” He glanced at you, and you could see the hurt in his expression, before he sat at the table, arms crossed over his chest. “My blood… does that to you, and it makes me think that maybe, things can go back to the way they were before.” He sighed, dropping his head. “Instead, everything I do just seems to make you hate me more.”

You blinked, feeling discarded on the bed, and you slumped forward, before making your way to your feet. Your dress had wrinkled, and you smoothed it back out, straightened the straps, fixed your hair. Still, Dazai wouldn’t look at you, and you were struck by his vulnerability, the earnestness in his expression. “I just—” you began, but you had no idea where you were planning to take that statement, too focused on the cloudiness that lingered in his gaze. “Osamu…”

“Go home,” he said, jaw clenched, before he looked up at you, his features schooled into another neutral position. “You don’t know what you want right now.”

You frowned, fingers tensing at your sides before you relaxed them. “That’s not fair.”

Dazai glared. “What’s not fair is the fact that you only want me when I give you my blood. What’s not fair is me loving you with every ounce of my being, for centuries, only to find you again with a human. What’s not fair is—”

“You’re not innocent, Osamu,” you said quietly, lip quivering as you tried to think rationally, but you just couldn’t. Every part of you was pulsing with need for him, and though it had never been a problem when you were together, it was a problem now. “You hurt me. I’m trying. I don’t know how to forgive you, but at least I’m trying.”

He stared back at you, an entire minute passing before he spoke again. “You have always been the same as me. Always as awful as you want to claim I am,” he said lowly, sniffing back his indignation. “Every horrible thing I’ve done, you’ve done too. The blood on my hands is on yours also. For every woman I took to bed, you took twice as many men.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, aching, as you looked away. “You left me to die, Osamu. You left me. The vampire hunters came for us, and –”

“God,” he laughed, darkly, shaking his head. “Even now, you don’t believe a word I say. You think, I would’ve left you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“They told me you were dead. Everyone. I came back for you, but you were already gone. I mourned you for decades. And now I’ve found you again…” Dazai trailed off, realizing that you were staring at him curiously, the feeling of drunkenness slowly evaporating from your conscious. “You know what… It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?” A bitter laugh came out of your throat. “You never tell me anything,” you said pointedly, hugging yourself tightly and turning away. “Every time I think I understand you, we take one hundred steps backwards.”

He glared, jaw tight, though fleetingly. The tension smoothed back out, and he sat tall, looking bored, and annoyed by your very presence. “Would it make a difference?” he asked, shaking his head. “You’ll continue to hate me, just because it’s easier.”

You blinked, lips parting briefly before you decided not to even argue with him. Around and around you’d go, at the end of the day, talking each other in circles until you’d gotten so lost, you couldn’t even remember where the conversation had started. “I suppose.”

“Then you better go home. The sun will start to rise soon. I don’t think you’ll want to spend another night here.”

For a moment longer, you watched him, waiting for any slight change in his expression—and when there was none, you turned, and headed towards the door. As you pulled it shut behind you, escaping into the dim hallway, you took one look back at the old vampire, the man you didn’t want yourself to love. But he was ignoring you, easily, his gaze fixated on a point on the opposite side of the room.

You frowned and let the door latch shut.

PART V

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @osaemu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai @cheriiyaya @iluv-ace @kemis-world @pe4rl-diver @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia @yasu-masashige @umarureid @flourescentadolescent1 @seikouryuu @dazaiswife1 @kxmilia @chosos-mascara @lacunaanonymousd @vljiki @angelof-darkness @acacia-koi @foxydaydreamer

[lvrdrafts]

Guess my Lover Was A Snake

Summary : Bucky get a anonymous photo sent to him which shows you cheating on him

Bucky entered their shared apartment, his face etched with anguish. In his trembling hands, he clutched the manipulated photo that had fueled his doubts. Y/N looked up, noticing the distress in his eyes.

"Bucky, what's wrong?" Y/N asked, concern lacing their voice.

Bucky's voice was strained as he held out the photo, his voice barely above a whisper. "Explain this, Y/N. Is this not proof enough of your betrayal?"

Y/N's eyes widened as they examined the photo, their mind racing to find an explanation. "Bucky, please listen. This photo is fake. It's a setup. Someone is trying to tear us apart."

Bucky's frustration boiled over, his voice rising in anger. "Don't lie to me, Y/N! How can you expect me to believe you when everything points to your betrayal? I trusted you, and you've shattered that trust!"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as they desperately tried to reason with him. "Bucky, I would never cheat on you. I love you. Can't you see? This is a malicious attempt to destroy what we have."

Bucky's voice dripped with bitterness as he lashed out, unable to control his anger. "You expect me to believe some wild story? You've always been good at playing the innocent, haven't you?"

Y/N's voice cracked as they fought back tears. "I'm not playing anything, Bucky. I'm trying to tell you the truth. I thought you knew me better than this."

Bucky's eyes narrowed, his voice filled with accusation. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought. Maybe there have been secrets all along."

Y/N's heart shattered, their voice trembling with hurt. "How can you say that? You were my everything, Bucky. I trusted you with all my heart, and now you're accusing me without even giving me a chance to defend myself."

Bucky's voice turned cold and dismissive. "I've heard enough. Pack your things, Y/N. I don't want to see your face anymore. We're done."

Y/N's breath hitched, tears streaming down their face as they gathered their belongings, their voice choked with emotion. "After all we've been through, after standing by you for five years, you think I would betray you? How could you believe such a lie?"

But Bucky's anger consumed him, his voice laced with bitterness and accusation. "You're a liar! Get out! I don't want you here."

In a whirlwind of pain and confusion, Y/N was pushed out with their belongings, the door slamming shut behind them. They were left alone in the darkness, their heart shattered and their love discarded.

In the quiet solitude of the empty apartment, Bucky Barnes found himself engulfed in a whirlwind of remorse and regret. The weight of his actions settled upon him, causing his heart to ache with a profound sadness. He couldn't shake off the nagging doubts that crept into his mind, questioning the validity of his own judgment.

As he glanced around the silent space, his eyes were drawn to the remnants of an unfinished meal that had been lovingly prepared by Y/N. It was a painful reminder of the affection and care they had poured into their relationship. The scent of the dish still lingered in the air, a bittersweet fragrance that tugged at Bucky's senses.

A profound pang of sorrow coursed through Bucky as he contemplated the accusations he had hurled at Y/N, fueled by anger and mistrust. He wondered if he had acted impulsively, allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment. The doubt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him entirely.

The untouched meal before him became a symbol of what he had lost—precious moments shared with someone who had stood by his side through thick and thin. Regret weighed heavily upon Bucky's heart as he acknowledged the possibility that he may have pushed away the very person who loved him unconditionally, someone who would never dream of betraying him.

With a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his remorse, Bucky approached the table, drawn to the unfinished dish like a moth to a flame. The aroma enveloped him, triggering a sense of longing and nostalgia. He couldn't deny the significance of the affectionate gesture Y/N had made in preparing his favorite meal.

A tidal wave of guilt crashed over Bucky, washing away any remnants of stubborn pride that had clouded his judgment. The truth of Y/N's innocence began to seep into his consciousness, challenging the foundation of his doubts. He wondered if he had allowed his insecurities and fears to blind him, destroying the fragile bond they had built.

Bucky picked up the phone, his hands trembling as he dialed Y/N's number, ready to admit his error and seek forgiveness. But he thought of the photo again and he knew he wasn't good enough for you so it made sense if you cheated.

[jedimandalorian]

The Path to Peridea.

Baylan Skoll says that Peridea is from a fairy tale known to Jedi younglings, a children’s story, but in reality Baylan says this to remind us that Star Wars is exactly just that, a fairy tale, a children’s story.

What does “Peridea” mean?

peri: (in Persian mythology) a mythical superhuman being, originally represented as evil but subsequently as a good or graceful genie or fairy.

ASTRONOMY

peri: denoting the point nearest to a specified celestial body.

from Greek peri ‘about, around’.

dea: Latin for “goddess”

The descent into the underworld is one stage of the hero’s and the heroine’s journey.

As @better-call-mau1 pointed out, the Path to Peridea sounds a lot like the “path to perdition.”

perdition: (in Christian theology) a state of eternal punishment and damnation into which a sinful and unpenitent person passes after death.

Perhaps this is where Thrawn is, in a kind of hell.

But as in the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, a brave lover is willing to descend into Hades to rescue the beloved. This is Sabine Wren’s mission to find Ezra Bridger.

There’s another meaning to “Peridea” though.

It is a genus of moths from the family Notodontidae.

The moth in The Lord of the Rings films brought Gandalf the Grey hope when he was imprisoned in the Tower of Orthanc. When the moth appeared, it was a sign that Gandalf would soon be rescued by the giant eagles, which are used as symbols of divine intervention in Tolkien’s fiction.

Please note that the letters on the star-map to Peridea resemble the Viking runes Tolkien used in The Hobbit. Both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are stories of a hero’s journey filled with danger and wonder. The brave protagonists have to go “there and back again” just as Sabine will in the Ahsoka series.

I think that Baylan Skoll reminding us that Star Wars is a children’s story is significant. Consider this quote from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling.

“Of house-elves and children’s tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped.”

In all the great fairy tales, the love and loyalty of the protagonist is the key to the triumph of good over evil.

Although she isn’t strong in the Force, Sabine Wren’s love for and loyalty to Ezra Bridger will strengthen her resolve on her road of trials along the Path to Peridea. With Ahsoka the Grey by her side, Sabine is ready to leave the comfort of Lothal (her Shire) and go to Peridea to save the man she loves.

Update, post Ahsoka Episode 6:

Here’s Huyang reminding us that this is indeed a fairy tale, a children’s story.

And here’s Thrawn, showing us how the villain “knows and understands nothing.”

“You wouldn't understand,” says Sabine.

“Perhaps not,” Thrawn responds.

What he doesn’t understand is love. The love and devotion that Sabine and Ezra have for each other is the power the dark lord knows not, and it will be his undoing.

I have spoken.

[nilesmoon]

i frogot to ask the day it dropped but um. opinions on the amprule phantom illusions? 🎤

hi hello. I have. So Many thoughts about amprule phantoms it's not even funny. I don't know if it's my favoritism speaking or not but I do think that they have some of the best phantoms in paralive.

I'm gonna end up ramble A Lot so I'm putting it all under read more

first off, dongha. the sonboy of all time. a lot of elements here were Incredibly Predictable but that did not stop my jaw from dropping when they announced this lol. while stunning and gorgeous it is also heartbreaking. I think it's really good at showing how trapped he feels and how he is trying to fight back & stand on his own with amprule!! HUGE fan of everything that's happening here but especially the thorns on the throne. It's so Not Subtle in what it's trying to say but I appreciate it all the same. Like. the roses you admire so much has hindered your possibilities of achieving what you really, truly, want??? I wonder that could mean????

(I would also like to point out that one of the bird wings are caught up in the thorns. how can a bird fly, survive on the ground, when his wings are unusable??)

The red carpets I have chosen to interpret as "two carpets for both of them. one for donghas place on the throne and one for his butler who is meant to stand by his side". considering the supporting role chungsungs phantom plays in donghas, it feels Correct.

While we're on the topic of common points. I'm gonna be honest when chungsungs phantom dropped I fully blacked out for a second solely because of candles & chains being common objects in amprule phantoms. but then again, once you remember these lyrics,

then it's like Of Course these are the common elements!!

now Actually onto chungsung. the chains?? so predictable but also Very Good and Effective. I feel like many people do not realize that this man is trapped in and has been hurt by the yeon family as much as the brothers. this guy has been working as a butler in that mansion At Least since 13. there's absolutely no way he had a good time. That's what the chains are about.

But the other side of this is that with his phantom he can actually Control them!! I have a very specific "taking back control" narrative for chungsung that exists only in my brain, so him reclaiming something that was a symbol of pain and making his own and turning it into an object of love [as seen in lyrics mentioned before] is Very Good

The candles...... I think I saw a few ppl point this out on twitter too but they're used for protection!! It's yet another epic example of chungsungs role as a shield tbh. (on another note I would like to see the candles set fire to the roses. I think it'd look sick as hell)

The bats were so unexpected Im still unsure what to think of it exactly. Some bat species feed on bugs (specifically moths. which are prominent bugs in the amprule imagery department), some feed on nectar and pollen, some feed on blood. Either way there's some self destruction via self cannibalism happening here 👍🏻👍🏻

(quick shout out to my beloved amprule consult for pointing out the possibility of the bats being people that have hurt him. which makes perfect sense bc chungsung IS the guy to willingly to put himself in a prey animal situation)

when you put them together it only gets better I think. I simply adore the way their phantoms fit together like puzzle pieces. It has that imposing air to it but also unsettling as hell. It is perfectly them.

[simplepotatofarmer]

I'm going to try and do some doomsday trio stuff and I'm wondering what headcanon you have on the Dream's chat form (if you don't mind sharing your thoughts)?

(I hope you can understand what I mean (still translator sorry))

also love you🖤🖤

ooooh good question!

i think that it was @lookinghalfacorpse that has the headcanon of moths/butterflies? but i do like that idea!

personally, if we went with butterflies, i'd pick any of the green hairstreaks, particularly sheridan's hairstreak. or the sulphurs, particularly the yellow angled sulphur or maybe the pink-spot sulphur.

if we go with moths, the clear choice is lunar moth! but i also like the oleander-hawk moth.

however. keeping on the bug theme, i kinda like the idea of dragonflies the most. specifically either the eastern pondhawk or the green darner.

that's my personal headcanon, i guess. i have this love of dragonflies and they tend to be important symbols in my culture. a lot of self-growth which i like! plus they're quick and can be pretty brutal, i just think that's what i would pick, if i was coming up with something to represent his chat!

or just like. little blobs that look like fuzzy white silkie chicks because i love chickens but dragonflies make more sense.

also love you too! <3 <3

[sarcophagid]

hiii what do u think about morningstar visuals or lore

he's one of my favesss

visually it's a lot of fun, he looks good in all black! im a liiitle tired of them showing his face all the time but i do like the silly little golden face on the mask.

also think it's neat that one of the design sketches had feathers on it. i'm oscillating between bat/moth/bird as an ithaqua animal. but i see nathaniel as snake themed and i do like a good snake vs. bird symbolism.

lorewise, i think morningstar ithaqua was really a good parallel for his original story. although i wish they mentioned his mother since she's a major character his backstory. i do wonder if helel is supposed to be ithaqua if his motives were utterly devoid of love.

regardless, the way i saw it in the og, the norwell family (or at the very least magistrate norwell, although i doubt janet and nathaniel are ignorant enough to not know what they're doing.) likely didn't genuinely believe in demons or witchcraft. it was more of a means to manipulate the townspeople and gain social power, since cultivating a fear of accusation would benefit the judge. and this parallels how later on, ithaqua would use the same practice of leveraging fear and lies to manipulate the people and protect his mother.

and this is reflected in the way both nebuchadnezzar and helel used a false divine connection to claim their right as king. the line "new lies will be treated as the word of god." implying that nebu was also lying.

nebu posing as a vicarious voice of 'god' goes with how ithaqua calls the attackers "gods" due to the religious nature of their accusations. likewise, nebu condemns those below the tower as 'demons' similar to how ithaqua's mother was called a demon.

it's also neat that they used a fallen angel as inspo - as helel being nebu's twin, was originally a prince before his fake execution, like how og ithaqua was presumed dead and abandoned. (i do wonder why exactly nebu spared him. i know why for plot armour reasons but there's some interesting possibilities.)

and helel is a fun character! i liked the detail that people didn't obey helel that much out of loyalty or even fear but because they were mutually using each other. helel didn't gaf about being king and they didn't actually believe his claims of being the true king as long as everyone got what they wanted in the end.

"Yet they did not know that the new, sun-eating king was never interested in governing at all. He knew that the followers hated the corrupt royals from the kingdom that he fell, knew that a religion built on a foundation of lies would shatter easily at first touch. But that had nothing to do with him. His goal was always the king of the tower, Nebuchadnezzar, and this battle was all a selfish frenzy of revenge."

helel isn't power hungry, he's single mindedly focused on vengeance. i'll go as far as to say he's not truly an agent of just retribution, he's just willing to do anything if it helps him in his goal. it's like, almost funny how he just lets people take advantage of the political shift for their gain as long as nebuchadnezzar stays imprisoned. and helel's lack of moral inhibition when it comes to his goals is one of the key parts of ithaqua's character. i think that's one of the similarities between him and nebu, but nebu is the one who actually desires power and control, using violence to attain that, in an inversion of helel's motive+method.

speaking of similarities another thing i really liked was the "everything was turned upside down, yet everything still remained the same." line. despite how much he hates their sameness, helel has to become something of similar magnitude to the sun king to make any meaningful change, just as there are no bloodless ways for the nightwatch to command paranoia.

and i think the funniest bestest part of all this is that helel fails. his plan to indefinitely torture nebu gets cut short when one of his allies (based tracy) finds the supposedly dead king and makes good on the false claim by killing him for real. all of helel's concentrated effort and sacrifice was for nothing. and it does actually make sense when you think about it because nightwatch is present at the manor, and why would he leave his post to go there? despite killing nathaniel and creating the persona of 'ithaqua', his mother's still sick. and whatever happened afterwards, he had to leave. somewhere in ithaqua's story, he failed too.

anyways cool story yeah i like it a normal amount

[acourtcfmuses]

⭐️ ― convincing portrayal of a canon character

💻 ― excellent writing

📚 ― nice threads to read

📌 ― a staple on the dash

🏆 ― 10/10 blog, would recommend

(these in particular)

🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑻-𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑨𝑾𝑬𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺.  (  send in one or more of these symbols for me to pick one blog or multiple i wanna shout out that i think fit well into the category. explanations optional.  )

⭐️ ― convincing portrayal of a canon character

@bccksmarts - Anyone who hasn't witnessed Pom's Hermione is seriously missing out. The amount of time and effort that she puts into Hermione is evident in every single one of her replies and I'm so grateful for the opportunity to write with Pom and her Hermione!

@cruelprincae - Chrissie's Cardan???! Just wow, not only is Cardan spot on, Chrissie is an absolutely stellar writer and every time I get a reply back I just sit and stare at it in awe. Chrissie had put so much thought into the literature of Cardan and every headcanon is just perfection.

@fiercehearts - I absolutely love and adore all of Alex's muses, but I have to gush about Kenzi for a second. I know we haven't done too much with Kenzi and Dyson yet (mostly because I have the pace of a dead snail), but any post Alex make with Kenzi, I can hear her voice every time and Kenzi is just written so amazingly.!

💻 ― excellent writing

@isdeathlystill - TEA! Tea is honestly one of my favourite people and her threads always help push me to be a better writer! She has such an amazing talent for writing and is so creative with some really amazing OC muses as well as writing spot-on canon muses that are so varied and well written.

@dreamingonthedaily - Lulu here own my heart and soul, I should have that known firstly. Lulu is such an amazing writer and put so much thought into her writing it's unreal. Every thread fits in the world it's in perfectly and just makes so much sense. I get so excited for our threads honestly. Lulu normally gets me gushing to her over video call about our threads.

@lcveblossomed - Sage is such a talented writer! Their threads are always so amazing to read and has so many amazing OC's who I forget constantly aren't canon (Like Pepper and Lenny who are just *chef kiss*). I am beyond grateful to get to write with Sage and always look forward to all our threads!

📚 ― nice threads to read

@scarredfeathers - Moth always seems to have the loveliest OC's and Jewel is no exception. I love Jewel so much and will always find myself reading other Jewel posts because she'd the cutest and has such an amazing backstory regardless to the verse and Moth puts so much love and effort into Jewel.

@gentlepuff - While I don't have too much going with Mari and Odette yet, I always love to see Odette popping up on my dash and enjoy reading all the threads when I see them! I honestly can't wait to write more!

📌 ― a staple on the dash

@denydefeat - Nadia is the definition of a staple on the dash. She is a wonderful writer, with so many interesting muses and I'm always excited to see what is going to come up in our threads. Especially when we have so many muse combinations between us both to play with. I wouldn't be without Nadia on my dash!

@dynastymuses - Kate is one of those blogs I just constantly look at with heart eyes. Not only is she an insanely talented writer, but amazing with graphics and edits. You can tell in her writing that she loves and adores her muses because you can feel how much she understand them in how well they're written!

@twistedtangledfate - Bee is a sweetheart and not only is Bee a super talented writer but one of the kindest and most supportive writing partners you can have. I deeply enjoy all our threads and when we speak OOC and I look forward to all that we end up doing in the future. 100% a must follow if you aren't already!

🏆 ― 10/10 blog, would recommend

@3katanas - This woman right here is one of my bestest friends and puts up with my shit often. I love Kira a whole damn lot. She always puts so much time and effort into whatever muse she's writing whether OC or canon and into their backstory and their verses and into ensuring that the theme of the blog matches the muse and it always looks stunning and she's an amazing writer too.

@hellgiven - Charli is just so talented I can't. She had such a knack with taking canon muses from one fandom and moving them to new fandoms and making it fele as is they had always been there. I honestly need to remind myself at times that Caroline and Davina originated in different fandoms because Charli puts so much love and lore into any muse she writes and I adore Charli.

@ofblackskies - Jenna has been putting up with my weirdo self for over 7/8 years now and she is honestly just a fantastic writer and a fantastic friend and I love and adore her so damn much. and never mind 10/10, she is 10000000000/10 must follow. No matter what blog I have, or she has, I will follow her into fandoms I know zilch about just to see her perfection.

[a-d-nox]

I hesitated asking to participate in the Yuletide game you proposed, but I mustered up the courage to just go for it. So here goes nothing...

Hi, Nox!

I would like to start off by thanking you for providing the astro-community with this opportunity. This is a really sweet and thoughtful way to kick off the year. May '24 bless you with more opportunities to teach, learn, and mingle with more folx in this community and beyond. Admittedly, your blog is intimidating because of the vast information held within it. The information you provide is masterful, well researched, and well organized. Because of this, I think I am looking forward to what other topics you'll bring to the table. I've noticed you speak more on Raider-Waite tarot in relation to astro charts and the web of wyrd.

i. If you haven't already, I would love to see you speak more on the origin of the images on each card. I had a dream last night about the game being played with tarot cards, and wondered why each illustration is drawn the way they are drawn.

ii. 🕊️ S.N.

I felt called to choose the Animal Spirit deck over the tarot deck, but I don't have much of a question per se, more of a request.

I'm lost. If that isn't enough to go off of, I would like some guidance or motivation or some kind of sign that my Life is meant to be more than what it is now. I'm at rock bottom and I don't want to give up, but I am losing hope. I pray that maybe, this game can provide some clarity.

Excuse my rambling, I hope I've touched upon everything in the game. Thank you again for this opportunity. Best,

gift no. 32

i appreciate how sweet you are when talking about my blog - i am going on 2 years in 2024! there will definitely be more tarot and more astro ahead! i did start breaking down the imagery of the cards a while ago, but unfortunately it never really took off, so i reallocated my energy on the blog...

i am sorry to hear about how lost and low you feel. i truly hope i can help you out with this reading.

positive moth energy: "the grass is greener on the other side." don't get distracted by "easy solutions" - the moth tends to get distracted by any source of light. the more you focus on things that seem shiny and new to you, the more you are likely to feel disappointed and burnt out. a great lesson of a moth person: ITS AN ILLUSION. no one is exempt from trials and tribulations. practice seeing life as the mystery it is - stop wishing it was easier or different.

negative lizard energy: you aren't experiencing life with all your senses - see what is yet to manifest. stop focusing on what is happening around you. by focusing too much on what's around, you might find yourself over stimulated. it might also be time for you to return to your inner artist.

negative crow energy: crows are one of two symbols: magic or death. i think you are looking too much at the negatives and not enough at the positives of your situation. the crow can see all three realities: past, present, and future - open your eyes to all three. practice some meditation!

shufflemancy: "blue christmas" by elvis presley

-a.d.

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

In 1989, 52-year-old Long Island resident Joan Cook Carpenter passed away after succumbing to breast cancer — a battle which she had chosen to keep from her loved ones until her final days. In 1999, a decade after Joan’s death, her 29-year-old daughter, Karin, wrote her the following letter.

Dear Mom,

What time was I born?

When did I walk?

What was my first word?

My body has begun to look like yours. Suddenly I can see you in me. I have so many questions. I look for answers in the air. Listen for your voice. Anticipate. Find meaning in the example of your life. I imagine what you might have said or done. Sometimes I hear answers in the echo of your absence. The notion of mentor is always a little empty for me. Holding out for the hope of you. My identity has taken shape in spite of that absence. There are women I go to for advice. But advice comes from the outside. Knowing, from within. There is so much I don’t know.

What were your secrets?

What was your greatest source of strength?

When did you know you were dying?

I wish I had paid closer attention. The things that really matter you gave me early on—a way of being and loving and imagining. It’s the stuff of daily life that is often more challenging. I step unsure into a world of rules and etiquette, not knowing what is expected in many situations. I am lacking a certain kind of confidence. Decisions and departures are difficult. As are dinner parties. Celebrations and ceremony. Any kind of change. Small things become symbolic. Every object matters—that moth-eaten sweater, those photos. Suddenly I care about your silverware. My memory is an album of missed opportunities. The loss of you lingers.

Did you like yourself?

Who was your greatest love?

What did you fear most?

In the weeks before your death, I knew to ask questions. At nineteen, I needed to hear your hopes for me. On your deathbed, you said that you understood my love for women, just as you suggested you would have fought against it. In your absence, I have had to imagine your acceptance.

There are choices I have made that would not have been yours. Somehow that knowledge is harder for me than if I had you to fight with. My motions lack forcefulness. I back into decisions rather than forge ahead. This hesitancy leaves me wondering:

Did you ever doubt me?

Would you have accepted me?

What did you wish for me?

I know that my political choices threatened you. Your way was to keep things looking good on the outside, deny certain feelings, erase unpleasant actions. Since your death, I have exposed many of the things that you would have liked to keep hidden. I can no longer hold the family secrets for you.

I search for information about your life. Each scrapbook, letter, anecdote I come across is crucial to my desire to understand you and the choices you made. I have learned about affairs, abuse, all things you would not have wanted me to know. Yet they explain the missing blanks in my memory bank and round out your humanity.

Who did you dream you would be?

Did you ever live alone?

Why did you divorce?

Did you believe in God?

One thing you said haunts me still. When I asked about motherhood, you said that children don’t need as much as you gave. “Eighty percent is probably plenty.” I was shocked by your words. Did you regret having given so much of yourself? Now, those words seem like a gift. A way of offering me a model of motherhood, beyond even your own example.

Becoming a mother is something I think about a great deal, almost to the point of preoccupation. I have heard it said that constant dreaming about birth often signals a desire to birth one’s self, to come into one’s own. My process of grieving the loss of you has been as much about birthing myself as letting you go.

What were your last thoughts?

Were you proud?

Were you at peace?

What is it like to die?

How frightened you must have been shouldering so much of your illness alone. The level of your own isolation is a mystery to me. In my life, I try hard to reach out, to let others in. I fear loss more than anything. I turn on my computer. Make things up. I tell the truth. My daily work is toward connection. All these questions move me to search, less and less for your answers and increasingly for my own.

Love,

Karin

[sapphic-scylla]

Seasonal short story for Sera’s adventures. Season of the Witch has fed my Warlock’s soul and story so this is the culmination of her journeyings so far. @ebevkisk

Facade and Cruelty

Eris was finally worn out.

Sera had seen many hive gods and slayed just as many but Eris had done what many thought to be impossible. Not only had she outsmarted Savathûn, the Hive Queen of Trickery and Deception, but she had also been the first to defeat her in a VERY long time. Accumulating more power than any hive had ever held at one time, Eris severed Xivu Arath’s connection to her own throne world, leaving both Savathûn and Xivu without any connections to resurrections and leverage if they ever attempted to strike back against the Last city.

Sera had sealed Immaru in a soundproof transmat-proof box. The annoying little twit had spoken his peace and hell if she was going to ever let him drift back to his master. Ikora had taken him away and Eris, after a long hug with Sera and a cry, had left to go relax with some tea and silence, both well and truly deserved.

As Sera hung back and admired the corpse of the Leviathan-Eater she had just killed, a very familiar voice drifted throughout the corridors of the throne world.

“My, my, I thought they would never leave.”

Sera’s anger flared and ice crawled across her fingertips and gnawed at her senses as the tempting yet ever condescending voice of Savathûn manifested from somewhere in the room.

“Ever one to talk, moth. How does it feel to be beaten?” Sera yelled, trying to pinpoint where she was.

“Oh, darling, it wasn’t the first time. My brother and sister show love by besting each other in combat. I’ve died about as many times as you, lightbearer. I also count your shrewd perception as a loss, my dear. Don’t think I didn’t know that you had me pinned back when I borrowed that old warlock’s body. I’m just surprised you didn’t rat me out.”

Sera seethed as the hive rune on her wrist burned with a white heat in the presence of its maker. “Information is power. We both know that. I learned a lot about your tells, your flaws, and your missteps. Even an avatar of deception isn’t perfect. Plus, while I don’t believe in fate, I do know that someone with a plan such as you had a reason and the intelligence to follow through.”

Savathûn’s voice chuckled. “Clever girl. You remind me of my brother. He was just as shrewd if more arrogant and driven by emotion. He didn’t like you killing his son even if it did get you a shiny new tool that he could take from you.”

To Sera, this was all small talk. A meeting of the minds. Sera had outmatched the goddess of trickery before and none of this was anything new. Sera demanded answers.

“What is this marking and why did you give it to me? And, keep in mind, I know when you’re lying.” She said, revealing the glowing symbol that was still burning like coal on flesh.

Savathûn cackled again. “A mystery that the great Pale Shade can’t solve. Now I’ve seen everything.”

The voice then turned deadly serious. “To keep you on a leash. A tight one. You’re very dangerous and I don’t like unpredictable variables. You’re the first person to outsmart me and I don’t like when people can repel my chaos with logic. You’re also useful. Infusing you with hive magic gives you a deeper potential. Especially with ice in your veins and on your fingers.”

Sera looked at her hand to find it covered in frost. Savathûn continued. “Eris was a proof of concept, though an unexpected one due to me underestimating her capabilities. Humans can wield devastating hive magic and the mere fact that you can handle that rune tells me you could do it too if you applied yourself. You’re an experiment and a rival. And since you killed my brother and me, I just happened to be in the market for such a thing. We could be a wonderful duo albeit a very spiteful one. Neither of us die, so we’re doomed to do this forever.”

Sera snarled. “One toe out of line and I’ll make sure this throne world becomes rubble and ash.”

Savathûn cackled one last time, louder than she’d ever heard. “Poor wayward light. Honey, you don’t even realize how much you need me yet. Your title, your respect from the Eliksni, even your queen. All are important for you. But so am I. You crave a rival. An equal. Someone who will make you better. You don’t even know yet, but sword logic runs through your very body. But, you’ll understand in time. If you survive the Witness, who knows? As someone used to say, Pain is your oldest friend.”

As her voice disappeared, Sera’s blood ran chill. Sera had said that back when she had survived Crota’s Oversoul. As Sera left to return to the tower, she felt a deep uncertainty wash over her as she feared that not only had the Witch Queen gotten in her head, but that she was also right.

[spiderton]

following suite from the last anon... hcs about kharma or medarma..

i always reply late BUT HERE U GO ANON. probably smaller as well but we'll see - i love medarma forever although i feel like it wouldnt happen in an instant, itd be like. slowburn, basically. meden does find kharma gorgeous but if they were ever to be in a relationship meden would go "okay you have to go say sorry to everyone!" and kharma probably does because she doesnt wanna ruin this. if anything, meden makes kharma a better person - kharma herself i feel is mixed between two royal zigoton families (one representing a butterfly and another a moth. like representing as in symbols and literal sense, they are moth and butterfly based). her own relationships with each side of her family though isnt very great which is telling because she poisoned her dad and mom so she wouldnt get married - kharma is masking and is autistic idk what else to say outside of the fact that she spent like so much ka-ching and resources on making a garden with a giant shookle than like actually focus on her empire - kharma was the last zigoton royalty to also be a ruler, because the moment she was exiled a bunch of other noble zigotons decided to make a council and not let there be a monarchy again (and numerous zigotons very much disagreed with her actions) mostly her name is just. not well regarded anymore. gong in pata2 is sort of ashamed to think that he thought she was a wonderful ruler when she was anything but

[chim-aera]

I am not a woman.

I am not a woman. I never have been. it is but my mother's battle. I see her fight it, every day. I see her sisters. bloody, beaten, bruised. I see the hatred, I see the grief. It isn't fair. I am not a woman, but I want to fight their war for them.

I am not a woman, but I have tried to be. I covered my scars in gloss and satin, vermillion warpaint slashed my mouth. I tried so ardently. my mother fought her battles, she told me lies and bitter truths. I strove to be like her. and oh we are similar. but in very different ways. I am not the golden child of wheat and sunlight that she once knew. with a halo of copper and a mind of bronze. no, the sun never claimed me.

I am not a woman, perhaps I've never been. as a child, I was only me. ainsel. one could say. I looked for fellowship, and only found it in stories, myths, and legends. the creator that sat in churches like a hallow nesting screech owl never once paid me visit, but the old gods did. and they knew I was not a woman.

I look for answers, and long to ask who I always looked to for them. my grandfather, would he understand? or would he hate me and disown what little is left of my fragile bones. or would he simply let me be. I wear his overcoat, often. it is stiff and scratches my skin more so then it should. I wonder if it did the same to him. I only remember him wearing it when I was older. buttons are missing from it, I sewed one on, but only one. I cannot find the rest. but that is simply meant to be. it does not smell like him, but my aunts instead. a pity. but my heart remembers coffee stains, morning, and too sweet syrup ever so fondly. would he still love me? if he knew what I was, and what I wasn't? I still love gardens, and singing, and birds. my mind resides on his porch like a flickering torchlight. I am a ghost there. I visit. but little bits of my soul stay behind every time. my grandfather watches the sunrise, from his chair. he is content. his soul is made of soil and gunsmoke. i ask him what the stars are made of, he answers. i tell him he must know it all. he only laughs. somehow, I think he'd understand. but i can never ask him now. but for some reason, i still do.

my grandmother. would she also understand? she is made of vengeance, fury, poise, and love. a phoenix dyed in carnelian. she smells of moth balls and jasmine tea. her kitchen her kingdom. rice cakes and seaweed, and songs on her native tongue. she never did teach me, but I was never a fast learner at what was not freely spoken. was she ashamed of her heritage. i never will ask. I played at the floor on the carpet, she would sip her tea, jasmine. or oolong. I always liked it bitter. maybe that's why my life is too. I played with her daruma, both eyes were filled in. I wonder what she wished for. I am not my grandmother, but I too am made of lies, and cleverness, and courage, and poems. she wrote poetry. before her home was burned to the ground before her. mushroom clouds. she never liked feathers. I wonder if there's symbolism there. or she just didn't like them. she loved her father, but was not there when he died. I wonder if we both have that guilt in our souls. she believed in magic, but never shared it. It was always there. mermaid, my grandfather called her. and I was songbird. he liked singing too. his voice was rich and deep. I told my grandmother he looked like an old actor of their ages. hair so blonde is was white, he never smiled in his photographs. It sat on the piano. he looks like don knotts. I say to her, I have never seen her laugh that much. my grandfather laughed too. solace. I still am seeking it. we picked blueberries in the edge of morning. I wonder if she had a chance to grow up free, if she would be wild and sad like me. instead she was given war and loneliness. she was always fighting. I saw the thoughts flit through her mind. mother, grandmother is thinking again. I always noticed. she would still smile though. their attic was haunted, but the ghost would never harm me. neither would the beasts in the forest behind us. there, I was never a woman, I was a child. I was me. I simply was. I wonder if they saw that. I miss that. but life never stays the same no matter how much you plead.

I am my father's child, am I? like skin stretched too thin over wingbones. scales and serpent feathers. his teeth are crooked and fractured, mine are sharp and strange. he has so much fear now, he was stronger when i was young. he was never there, so now he tries to be. he tries. aren't we all trying. my mother is still fighting. I want to pick up her sword for her, no one ever has. but I cannot keep wearing armor that was never meant for me. I am not a woman. but I doubt she'll ever know. I see the glances in my family's eyes. wonder, fear, hatred. my mother sees a caged creature, my father sees himself. I see nothing. my bones already ache from phantom wings that were ripped off eons ago. what is stolen divinity? will I simply drown again? I am not a woman, but I wore the mask well. it has gotten looser, I take notice. it barely fits now. people can see my true skin beneath it. I see the invisible scars trace my body. years of screaming inside my head, howling in a snowstorm and I weeping alone. I want to hold my younger self. tell them I do not know the answers to infinity. but I still like owls, and learning, and stars. I looked for comfort in conformity. I found solace in chaos. I asked the goddesses what am I? they stroke my hair and smile. my eyes are weaker then before. how long have I been here? they don't divulge the answer. they know lifetimes more then I. I am old now, I am trying, I am searching. I am not a woman. I know that. the more time shifts through kronos's golden hourglass I see the small silver child who smiled at the moon and spoke prayers to the wolves and the dragons. owlet, you'll gain your wings again. why am I my greatest mentor? fear tries again to consume me, to make me consume myself like a snake with it's own tail. I am no ouroboros so I tell it good day. I have not burned this long to self destruct.

I am not a woman, perhaps I have said this before. nevertheless I am. I am. I am. I simply am. I simply am myself. is that not enough? what am I? oh darling, creatures don't give freely their names. but look close enough you might see the mischief in my nature. my grandmother compared me to a fox. maybe there was a metaphor in that. i feel like one sometimes. I'll wear broken glasses and a clever smile. my knuckles bleed, and my eyes go dark. I will find my happiness. I am not a woman. it is about time you figured that out.

[antiqueberry]

Berry Watches The Dragon Prince: 4x01, Rebirthday

Okay, so we’re just replaying the season three finale. Cool.

God, I forgot how creepy the blacked out eyes were.

Wow, that thing is so much bigger that I remember. Maybe they edited the scene?

I understand why the did the timeskip (fuck covid) but it’s so weird to watch it after the fact. Like, I just saw this man die last week.

I need to know the meaning of everything on here. What’s that snake moth thing? Who’s the elf on the bottom right? Is that kid on the left Aaravos? I know it’ll probably get explained later but I can’t stop but wondering.

I want that galaxy as a background so bad.

HUH

Getting heavy with the symbolism aren’t we?

Wonder what this “mystery of aaravos” is.

I forgot how pretty this show is.

I forgot that Viren left the mirror behind. Wonder what that’s going to mean later on.

aw Callum’s all grown up

Oh, so he’s the high mage now. Makes sense, since he’s the only one who knows primal magic. Good for him!

I love him so much, he’s such a dork.

This season is already fueling my autistic Callum theory.

That’s new. I’m guessing Ibis trained him?

Love to see that Soren has not changed a bit.

They are not beating the couple allegations. That is romantic banter at its finest.

Oh, so he’s trying to translate the mirror. Probably should have guessed that.

Half of this is just going to be me rambling about how cute Callum is.

EZRAN!!!!!! Look at him!!!! He’s all grown up now!!!!

Okay, so the council is Ezran, Soren, Corvus, Callum, Opeli, and the baker. Guess they really did kill that council guy Viren was working with.

I love that Bait has his own little chair.

THE SWORD AND SHEILD LESBIANS ARE BACK!!!! I love Janai’s new design so much.

I just noticed that Amaya has a new shield design. Cool.

Oh, so his name’s Barius. I don’t think we ever knew that before.

Zubeia! And Zym probably got a new design too!

Didn’t most of Katolis fight with the dragons? So why would that be a problem?

I love so much you guys.

Everyone in this family needs a massive amount of therapy. The kids especially.

[dirk-fucking-strider]

Transient Liveblog Pt.2

TT: Whoa, wait. New character alert. Who’s this Alice? Please be something other than “character’s girlfriend who only exists as a plot device.”

TT: Oh. Huh. Goodbye alien landscape, hello random futuristic city? I think those signs are in Chinese. Looks like a more run down version of one of those computer wallpapers. You know the ones. Neon pink futuristic city, anime girl in foreground may or may not be included.

TT: Ouroboros door opening puzzle…I hope that’s symbolic of some theme in the game. I love Ouroboros symbolism so much, so that’d be pretty fucking cool.

TT: Some graffiti. Panopticon mention! Chekov’s graffiti, with any luck. Wonder if they meant it as something that sees all, or as the actual type of building. Please be the second, I feel like everyone always means the first. Wait. Domed city. The intro said it was a domed city. It could be both. IT COULD BE BOTH.

TT: Holy shit, are those bodies? About time it got actually horror in here.

TT: Okay, those might’ve been statues, but there was this weird glitch with eyes superimposed so we’re still heading towards the horror segments anyway.

TT: Gab, I think that guy might be the tiniest bit dead. Also I don’t trust those moths, they’re hovering awfully close to him.

TT: Entry port? Is that the circle thing on the apparatus on his head? Seems awfully exposed, if that’s the case, and if that’s the case then it’s no wonder someone was able to shock it.

TT: Hackers overloading neural implants? See, this is why brain chips are a bad idea.

TT: Egyptian mythology reference? Younger Scribbles would lose his shit.

TT: Are they…growing people from trees?

TT: Oh hey, it’s Alice. And…there she goes again. Is the whole game going to be like this?