Marinette’s heart lurches painfully at his question. In the past several months she’s become expert at the Art of Reading Adrien, and the way that he nervously fiddles with the scarf belies the even voice she hears. She hopes he doesn’t think she’s going to deny him this.
“Close your eyes.”
He complies, and as she twists off the couch to face him, she hears his restrained breathing.
Scratch nervous, he was terrified. She puts a hand between his shirt collar and his scarf, hoping to ease his nerves as she leans closer and takes him in.
Framed in the red sunlight and his eyelashes grazing his cheeks, he looked serene. Had she not known him, the assumption would have been fair.
Her eyes slide along the strange patches of light thrown across his face and drift down to his mouth.
…How long had she really wanted to do this when she wasn’t busy lying to herself? She tries to push the thought out of her mind as the centimeters between them compress and her bangs mingle with his.
She’d dedicated to memory his laughter at the first stupid meme she’d shown him, the pride in his compliment when she made a bad pun to his face, the way he’d bear hug her at the end of her shift and try to stop her from making it to his door, and the pain that the gesture did little to mask.
She does her best to etch into her memory the brief hitch in his breath as she gently touches her lips to his.
When Padparadscha first appeared a lot of people noticed she had a very similar design to Princess Daisy of Mario fame. Yellow dress, poofy sleeves, long white gloves, spunky hair and even tiny crown-ey things. It didn’t exactly take an eagle eye to notice (though I somehow missed it at first anyway), but if anything Sugar’s early draft of her was even more obvious. Look! She even has a gem on her chest like Daisy does
The similarities are adorable, but believe it or not there may be more going on here than a simple design quirk. However, in order to understand the full body of evidence here we’re going to need to dig into something I never really expected to post about here: Early 2000′s gamer folklore
Ah the year 2001. I remember it like it was yesterday. Shrek had just been unleashed on an unsuspecting populace, Yu-gi-oh was all the rage, and JayJay the Jet Plane had just died in the deadliest drunk driving accident in recorded history , but in that year a small japanese business unveiled the greatest invention humanity has witnessed since the lighting of the first fire: Super Smash Bros. Melee
This game had everything: crossovers, ass-kicking, even an evil floating hand with cerebral palsy. it was the game on every kid’s shelves, so it’s no surprise that urban legends evolved around it, and not all of them were bullshit. One legend in particular revolved around the statues the player could collect, specifically it referred to the statue of Princess daisy
Looks pretty normal right? Well, not quite. The SSBM statue gallery allowed players to see that the statue from any angle or distance, even if it meant clipping through the textures. Most would use this for looking up character’s dressed, but rumor spread that Princess Daisy had a bizzarre feature in a place horny young gamers would never have thought to look. According to legend, anyone who dared zoom in on the back of Daisy’s head until they clipped through her hair would be treated to this: An eyeball on the back of her head!
Do you see where I’m going with this now?
This is Padparadscha we’re talking about now: A Sapphire who can only see behind her in time. Given her defect, what do you think the odds are that her mop of bangs is really covering her eye?
Don’t buy it? I don’t blame you if you don’t, but I’m not done talking just yet. Notice how Sugar moved Padparadscha’s gem from her chest to her hand? It’s now in almost the exact same place as Sapphire’s gem, but while Sapphire’s gem is on the front of her hand, Padparadscha’s is on the back.
So what do we have? Design parallels and 90′s nostalgia; hidden easter eggs and a backwards gem. Is Padparadscha’s eye on the back of her head?
Sorry for asking but you're okay with straight allies, right?
in my line of work, you eventually reach a point where you know when you’re being followed. you stop registering exactly what it is that tips you off. it’s one thing, or it’s the other; whether it was the snap of a twig, the skittering of an animal into hiding behind you, or an eerie silence drawn too long, it doesn’t matter. what matters is how you deal with it after you realise.
this is one of those moments i can’t dial back to figure out what set it off. i’m focused on the details of the present. i’m focused on making sure i don’t change my pace. making sure i don’t look like i suspect a thing. the rhythm of walking is familiar, almost casual. you don’t live this long if you’re not good at what you do, and accusations of ego be damned, i am one of the best.
the checklist in my head runs faster than the small hand of my watch, a blur of contingencies. marked: the gun readied in my grasp, the knife in my boot, the twinge of pain in my left shoulder. security got one good hit in before i was gone. some part of me thinks i let that happen. that i wasn’t entertained enough to bring flawlessness into tonight’s equation.
it’s an easy figure that i’ve been trailed since i left. the night is disturbingly still, even for what it is. in this part of the world, the darkness brings a cold that bites right into your bones.
the alley i turn into smells overwhelmingly of blood.
not willing to take chances, i don’t bother stopping to see where the scent’s coming from. i could be drowning in the stuff now and not know it. by the overpowering stench, i might well be. the minutes have been gauged down to the final heartbeat, and this is exactly when it’s about to turn. whoever is following me should know by now that i know. the only thing we have left to figure out is who wins this game.
it doesn’t take longer than a few seconds, drenched in vertigo. there is a resounding crack against the brick wall of the alleyway, and i whirl to take a step forward, handgun-first. my free hand has found its position at the switch on my earpiece, ensuring HQ will hear every second of what is about to ensue. the breath i’ll use to tell my attacker to stand down has already been taken by the time i realise there is no one there.
jerkily, as if witnessed under strobe lights, i lower my weapon. the quiet buzz of my earpiece seems muted underneath my suddenly racing heart. everything flickers. in the suffocated seconds between, i raise my hand to my face. the alley doesn’t smell like blood; my nose is bleeding. i search blearily for a solution. poison? that would explain the fogginess.
a swear under my breath gets filtered out and hidden underneath the sickly saccharine tone of a voice behind me. “sorry for asking,” it croons, “but…”
my vision is a flashing, afterimage-infested mess as i spin to try to track the source of the voice. what i see is something i’m not certain i really see at all, something i doubt you could find in daylight. something i doubt you could find anywhere that still holds life. i fumble for my gun again but the beast before me takes hold of my hand and stills it. it is so close to my face that i can see nothing else. an acrid smell, like petrol, covers up even the blood.
in my head i’m begging for something to happen, praying that my earpiece still works. someone has to hear this. someone has to help or snap me out of this nightmare. i’ve been here long enough to know how to show no fear, but it still catches up with me. i hear the twinge in my voice, spitting, “don’t touch me,” and pretending it is some kind of threat.
the beast doesn’t heed it. it leans in further, brushing against my cheek. i do not want to hear the question it has. i expect it to kill me.
“… you’re okay with straight allies, right?” the beast whispers, and i hear the remaining static from HQ fizzle out.
• The way Fenris’s hair is so fluffy over his pointed ears and how it sways when he teases about practicing his flattery
• The look he gives Hawke when he says that he’d never wanted anyone before Hawke and that things might be different with him
• The deadpan manner in which he jokes with Varric
• That heartbreakingly sad and vulnerable smile on his face when Hawke says, “I’m here, Fenris,” when Fenris thinks he’s all alone
• His adorable friendships with Sebastian, Donnic, and Aveline
• The way his ears glow (the way all of him glows, really, but look at his glowing ears in cutscenes! So cute!)
• The way he caresses Hawke’s face
• That look of hope on his face when he first sees Varania and recalls a fragment of a happy memory of her
• Those very full and very kissable lips of his
• Those bold, expressive eyebrows
• The way his bangs hide his eyes when he’s feeling vulnerable and self-conscious
• His dry sarcasm and wit
• The way his eyes light up and he smiles when Hawke suggests giving him a few more problems
• The way he finds happiness, love, and a home when he thought he never would
converts who have already been in the mikveh, converts who are almost ready to make things official, converts in the middle of their journey, converts who are just now starting to study seriously: you are Amazing!!! we are amazing!! how crazy is it that despite not being born Jewish, not growing up Jewish, we’re Here and learning things and growing and changing!
if you grew up surrounded by a jewish community and always felt like you should be a part of it, or you have jewish family and are rediscovering your connections to the tribe, or you read a book or watched a movie about judaism and fell in love a little bit, or you learned about judaism in school and wanted to know more, or you stumbled upon it completely by chance and knew there was Something there for you
if you’re firm in your beliefs, or you have your doubts or and concerns and wrestle with your spirituality, or you’re an atheist or agnostic but you recognize the beauty and value in these ancient words and rituals and culture, whether you were raised in another faith or grew up without one
whatever your first language is, the color of your skin, your nationality, your race, your culture
if you’re struggling to increase your levels of observance, if you’re not able to go to a synagogue every weekend or you’re there 15 minutes early, if you’re working with one rabbi or you’ve met with ten, if your mouth has trouble fitting around hebrew or it comes naturally to you, if you sing along every friday or if you’re still learning the words to songs and prayers and stay quiet, if you’re waking up with the sunrise to go through morning prayers or barely remembering to stumble through the shema as you’re falling asleep, if your family and friends have welcomed your decision with open arms or if they’re confused or worried or angry
if you’re converting orthodox, reform or conservative, if you get more excited with every new holiday, if you’re dreading not having a christmas tree, if you’re working through the breakup of your love affair with bacon-wrapped shrimp, if you feel like you’re glowing the first time you’re invited to a shabbat dinner, if you’re wondering if you can join your school’s hillel, if you’re imagining what it will be like to stand under a chuppah someday, if you’re excited about the idea of someday helping your daughter prepare for her bat mitzvah, if you’re just starting to be confident enough to give your own opinions at torah study, if you’re struggling and singing and learning and studying and arguing and loving
stay strong! you are (or will be) an amazing addition to the tribe. you are enough. this is meant for you. keep on learning and doing. your experiences are just as authentic as anyone else’s, and you are (or will be) just as Jewish as anyone else.
“Dearer to G-d is the stranger who has come of their own accord than all the crowds of Israelites who stood before Mount Sinai. For had the Israelites not witnessed the thunder, lighting, quaking mountains and sounding trumpets, they may not have accepted the Torah. But the stranger, who saw not one of those things, came and offered themselves to the Holy One, and took the yoke of Heaven upon themselves. Can anyone be dearer to G-d than this person?”
Series: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings: mentions of emotional abuse
‘Request: can I get protective Reid pls? Like over an abusive ex or something? Thanks’
Well, this request coincided well 😂💕
- - - - - -
Your phone vibrated on the desk beside the case file. The conference room was empty apart from you and Reid so far. You picked it up, glancing at the message before signing and placing it back down.
“Everything okay, Y/N?” Reid asked beside you.
“Yeah. It’s just, uhm, remember Y/E/N?” You saw Reid’s jaw clench for a brief second. You took that as a yes. “He keeps texting me saying he misses me lately and that he wants me back.”
“And do you? Want him back, I mean?”
“God, no. He was manipulative and selfish. I told him to piss off after the first string of texts but I’m just ignoring him now.”
“Good. You deserve so much better, Y/N.” Reid muttered under his breath as the rest of the team filled the room and took their places.
“Yesterday in Boston, the bodies of two women were found-”
As you focused on Garcia, Reid stared at you, looking for any traces of stress.
Spencer knew what your ex was like. He was the one who’d hold and comfort you on your bad days while your ex went out and partied and then got upset with you because Reid had his arms around you.
Spencer was there to witness the gas lighting, all the arguments that were Y/E/N’s fault but somehow ended up in you apologising.
Spencer was there when you doubted yourself because your ex made you feel guilty for speaking about something that made you uncomfortable and accused you of just being jealous or clingy or oversensitive.
Spencer was the one who helped you realise that when your ex cheated and ended the relationship, you were lucky. Lucky that you had managed to get out of a relationship that was extremely toxic.
Spencer was the one who helped you to never look back but he never once forgave what your ex had done and was worried that your ex might try to manipulate you back into his arms.
You and the rest of the team stepped out of the elevator after a successful case. You were happy. Spencer had made sure that your mind was off your ex, not that you had time to dwell while dealing with a serial killer.
You grabbed the handle and pulled open the door to the Bull Pen, looking over your shoulder as Morgan told a joke. You stopped in your tracks as your head turned towards your desk.
“Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.” You held your face in your hand and turned towards the others.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Hotch asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
JJ’s eyes widened as she looked over at your desk. “That’s not…? Is it?”
“God, he cannot just take a hint.” You groaned. Spencer put his arm around you protectively and stared daggers towards Y/E/N who was brazenly leaning against your desk waiting for you.
“Who can’t? JJ, who is that?” Morgan’s voice rose.
“Y/N’s ex. Excuse me.” Spencer cleared his throat and motioned for JJ to take his place before striding across the Bull Pen.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here, Y/E/N?” Spencer crossed his arms.
“Dr Reid. Long time, no see. Listen, I’m just here to show Y/N how sorry I am for the way our relationship ended. I was a jerk, I shouldn’t have cheated. I was drunk and stupid and Y/N didn’t give me sex when I wanted it-”
Spencer landed a punch to your ex’s face that sent him crashing to the ground before crouching down at eye level. “No, you listen. You were emotionally manipulative. You were abusive. You made Y/N feel like shit not only about having normal worries but about herself. She deserves so much better than that, deserves much better than you. You are an asshole. She deserves someone who’s going to give her the world.”
Your ex gave a humourless chuckle, a trail of blood dripping from his nose. “And you think she’s gonna find that with you? The bloke she only views as a best mate.”
Spencer’s jaw clenched as he grabbed your ex and pulled him up. “She doesn’t want you back. Take a hint and stop trying. Don’t go anywhere near her and if I hear that you’ve bothered her again, I will be forced to do something that will have my badge and gun taken away from me. Are we clear?”
Your ex stayed silent.
“Morgan, get him out of here.”
Morgan stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Y/E/N’s shirt, dragging him out of the building.
Spencer looked at the shock on your face and turned apologetic. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that-”
You cut him off by pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.”
Hellooo. So, I decided to not take a break after all. I figured the best thing to do after a break up is to keep busy so please keep hitting me up with requests, aha :’) Hope y'all are doing well 🌹 x
Sauer Castle, a 19th century Italianate mansion nestled on the top of a hill overlooking the Kansas River, was built in 1871 and is said to be the site of much paranormal activity. The first occupant was Anton Sauer, who moved to Kansas City following the death of his wife. He then began a relationship with 28-year-old widow, Mary Einhellig Messerschmidt. The couple married and Mary brought along her two daughters to live in the castle with Anton and his own five children. Mary went on to give birth to five more children, one of whom died in infancy and was buried on the grounds. Tragically, Anton died from tuberculosis the following month in the master bedroom.
A total of five generations of the Sauer family lived and died inside the castle, one of which was a suicide. It is said that every single member of the Sauer family is buried somewhere in the grounds of the castle. Today, the castle is shrouded in legends and rumours. They say that a woman hanged herself in the tower of the castle. Another legend says that a man murdered his entire family in the Sauer Castle before burying them on the grounds.
Whatever the truth may be, there have been a number of reports of ghastly and ghostly happenings in and around the castle. Neighbours often claim to witness floating lights and hear disembodied voices and laughter. They say that it’s quite common for folks to see the apparition of a man and woman dancing in the castle tower on Halloween and if you’re lucky, you can catch a glimpse of an apparition of a woman pacing back and forth throughout the gloomy nights.
A/N I’ve decided I’m going to do this in parts. It’s just easier and
otherwise it’ll end up pretty long. Requests for part 2?
“Please,” Baekhyun begged.
“No, Baekhyun. The whole idea’s ridiculous,” you snapped.
The two of you were sitting on Baekhyun’s double bed in his room, gripping
video game controllers with eyes glued to the screen. The pause screen suddenly
blared up on the screen. You sighed and turned to face your friend.
“Please, Y/N,” he
tried again. Baekhyun had proposed the idea of using you as a ‘fake girlfriend’
so he could make some other girl jealous, with an end result of attracting her.
The two of you were good friends, but he clearly had no idea quite how much
Baekhyun meant to you. In your eyes, he was more than a friend.
“You seriously invited me over to play video games and watch
movies to then sugar coat the fact you want me to pose as your girlfriend for
some other random girl? I won’t do it. We’re not in some stupid reality show.”
You uncrossed your legs and dropped the controller on his bed, standing up.
imagine a Temple of the Whills version of like, a confessional? but the Whills doesn’t strike me as a faith built on guilt and obedience, maybe it’s more like… an anonymous therapist you can speak to about all your spiritual woes, civilians can use it too
point is, who would be an appropriate candidate for such a job? Baze Malbus, once the most devoted of them all!
new initiate Chirrut going to the Faceless Guide and falling in love with the gentle, quietly funny advice and listening everywhere he goes for that rumbling VOICE
Baze desperately scanning the prayer hall and the lunch crowds every day for a face to match the wit and the light he hears, the one person he finds selfishly wishing turmoil upon just so they’ll come visit him again
Chirrut accidentally flirting when there’s another Guide on duty
finally being paired together for sparring for the first time and repeating the ceremonial pre-match mantra, and-
Chirrut won’t stop babbling and smushing his hands all over Baze’s hot-blush face, while Baze is just. dumbstruck. because stars, this man is incredible
the zama-shiwo master goes hoarse from clearing his throat, to no reaction. everyone in the temple soon gets used to this happening multiple times per day
Hey babe, could we get some headcannons on what kind of female s/o sebastian would be attracted to and actually go the trouble of courting? Characteristics: personality-wise and a few aesthetic-wise would be brilliant. Feel free to add on other characteristics you deem suitable! Thanks hun xxx
What kind of female S/O do you think Sebastian fall for? More character-wise but aesthetic related details can be included. Thank you! :)
I can tell you now that this is going to be a big one… Took me just over an hour!
As a demon, Sebastian is above the shallowness of some humans to base attraction off of something as impermanent as appearances. But I broke appearance down to four categories and answered them separately. I did say this was a big request.
He likes shedding his gloves after a long day and running his slender fingers through your hair, slowly and gently untangling any nicks. If he’s got time, he’ll braid and brush it for you.
For dark hair, he’ll compare it to starlight or the beauty of blood in the moonlight (reserved for those particularly morbid moods he gets into, usually after murdering someone or may or may not have deserved it).
For light hair, he’ll compare it to the sunlight or to having pure gold woven into your locks.
For unnatural colours, such as red, he’ll be fascinated by the true colour showing at the roots and will want to know all the reasons behind why you dyed it.
Length doesn’t bother him, but he’s usually pretty content if it’s long enough to braid. If you consent, he’ll find out your favourite styles, learn them within a day or two, and then replicate the chosen style of the day each morning for you, taking it out and brushing it before you go to bed.
Any eye colour. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and it’s for precisely this reason that he loves to look into them, his own magenta eyes boring into yours.
For genetic mutations such as heterochromia, he’s completely entranced and just loves commenting on the individuality of the two colours.
In any case, some baser part of him toys with the idea of gouging your eyes out surgically, so that they’re fully intact and carrying them around with him because of how much he loves them.
He always talks himself down from this, though, because they have that little spark of life that he so adores and if he removes them from your person, he’ll never witness them light up when you see him walk into the room, and he can’t have that now, can he?
Besides, he’s pretty sure that you’d like to keep your eyes exactly where they are.
Height doesn’t matter at all because everyone’s the same height when they’re laying down.
With clothes, it can go two ways: pastels or dark. Sebastian generally doesn’t pay too much attention to what you wear because it’s your body and you can wear what you like, but he may offer to choose your clothes for you each morning or to design/make/order clothes for you to wear, completely tailored to you and your tastes. You wouldn’t know about this beforehand because he won’t physically measure you. Just one look at you head to toe, and he already knows exactly what you should wear. He has an eye for these things.
I think, with pastel colours, he’d appreciate the difference between his stark black and white outfits with very little variation, to your different shades of pinks, purples, greens, blues, etc. He’d likely compare it to the fragility and delicacy of the human body, almost going off on a tangent about how easily humans are disposed of, before remembering that you’re a member of said species and that you may not be able to stomach what he’s talking about. He’d apologise and change the subject.
With dark colours, he’d appreciate the similarities with his own clothes and make the occasional comment about how what you’re wearing matches his thoughts, his nature; he’s the epitome of darkness and he never misses an opportunity to tell you this.
He lives in Victorian London, don’t forget, so he wouldn’t approve of too much revealing of your skin. He’d tell you that “it’s unseemly and might he recommend something else that may be to your taste, My Lady?”. This would be coupled with comments muttered into your ear that is designed to leave you blushing.
Makeup doesn’t bother him, though it intrigues him. Why do you cover your natural face? He’d make it clear that he prefers you fresh-faced, though. Makeup carries a certain connotation in this time period.
The most important thing is that you’re not afraid of him. He’s a demon and capable of the biggest monstrosities you can think of and is mostly unfeeling, but he cannot court someone (yes,court, not date, “a frankly ridiculous modern adaptation”) who fears him. So, his s/o’s love for him needs to override the fear of what he is in all situations.
Full acceptance and understanding that Sebastian cannot love to the same extent that humans can and do, but rather, he’s possessive. You’re his and as such, he will protect you and fight for you, with you, with his life, if need be. Don’t expect declarations of romance and romantic proposals, it’s not in his nature. He will not change for you and the very suggestion would be most insulting.
Someone who knows that Sebastian can and will play games with them. Tell him your fears, he will exploit them for his own amusement. Tell him your dreams, and he will crush them if you let him. Tell him your insecurities and he will shut them down with logic in just a few sentences. But, devilish though he may be, he is still your partner, and so he will refrain from doing these things. He may still play tricks on you, though, not nothing life threatening. It’s no good courting a dead person.
Independence. He’s very busy with his contract, running the Phantomhive estate and doing all the other things that he does, so he won’t always have time for you. His s/o would need to be able to fend for themselves. His ward is a child and he doesn’t need or want another one.
Confidence. He understands that this grows in humans, and he’d be willing to help you with that. He does care for you in his own way and will show you in every way he knows how that you’re a wonderful woman and that he loves you, again in his own way.
Someone who is okay with Sebastian being himself around them. So he moves a little faster, he speaks with a lower, more gravelly voice. If he realises that you enjoy that, or you tell him this yourself, then he’d be pleased and would make it a point to be a little less human around you. This links into not being scared of him.
Someone who is themselves. No false modesty, no façades, no masks or acts… just you. He won’t appreciate falsehoods, even if they’re meant with good intentions.
Someone who is strong-stomached. I don’t mean this in terms of gore, though that would help, I also mean someone who can hold their own. He will tease you on occasion about your weaknesses. For example, if you’re afraid fo the dark, he might grab your foot from under the bed. But that’s a different set of headcanons, which can be found on my masterlist.
Intellect. Enjoy books or writing, drawing. Plays an instrument or wants to learn one. Bi-lingual or wants to learn another language. An inherent appreciation of culture and class. Someone who appreciates the finer lifestyle. These things aren’t necessary but it would help your relationship, in that you have mutual interests.
This is such an important point that I left it for last, and it’s pretty self-explanatory: Maturity. Someone who loves Sebastian for exactly what he is, in all the right ways. No games, no competitions, no playing, just love. Love him for what he is, and he’ll return the affections in kind, though in a slightly different way. Respect him and he’ll respect you. That’s all there is to it.
Will Genji ever connect to any of his past lives before Korra? I know Korra lost all of them, but Korra did regain her bending just from crying on a cliff, so anything is possible.
Lol so let’s talk about this. I think it IS possible.This is going to be a very long post, so stick with me.
I’m going to go through a few points and then share my theory.
A) Watch the first 30 seconds of the video below.
Korra meditates in the Tree of Time and remembers that Raava told Wan that light
cannot exist without darkness etc. that Vaatu would always exist in her and she
Right before Korra meditates to the ethereal / astral plane where the Avatar Spirit is, you hear an older male voice say “Find the Light in the Dark.”
What is this voice? Who is it? I don’t think we’ve heard those words
spoken by Wan before, so how can Korra be remembering something she
B) Light cannot exist without darkness and vice versa. It’s canon that when Raava or Vaatu destroy the other, they will inevitably regenerate inside of the victor. There is always a little bit of light in Vaatu, always a little bit of darkness inside of Raava. Neither can truly be destroyed. In other words, there is a connection between the two beings that link their identities and destiny to one another for all of time.
C) Raava permanently fused her essence with Wan’s at the Harmonic Convergence before Korra. They became one entity- the Avatar Spirit. Yet, they maintained separate identities - Raava spoke to Wan and to Korra and had an idea that she was a separate being. Being fused with Raava meant the Avatar Spirit could never truly die, and it was reincarnated into humans for thousands of years after to create the Avatar Cycle we all know and love. But Raava’s spirit is inextricably linked to the tiny bit of light inside of Vaatu. In a way, Wan being linked to Raava meant he was tying his spirit and destiny with Vaatu as well.
D) Watch this video of Wan’s last moments - see how Raava / his spirit leaves his body? It’s a golden light that dissipates into the air.
Isn’t it similar to when Korra “purified” or “pacified” Vaatu? When Raava was destroyed by UnaVaatu?
golden light / essence stuff, what is it exactly? It’s apparently not
destruction, because we saw it when Wan died, and nothing died/was
destroyed then, right?
E) Now, brace yourself, and watch when Korra loses Raava and her connection to her past lives:
Raava was apparently torn from Korra’s essence or spirit, and she is now being attacked by Vaatu. Each strike appears to take away a connection to a past life - we watch the past Avatars dissolve into golden light.
But wait, if Korra was severed from Raava, how is it that she feels the links to past Avatars disappearing? How can she see them being destroyed/why does she visibly show signs of distress and pain? It’s clear she was still somehow connected to Raava or her past lives to SEE/FEEL them being destroyed. I.E. she was still somehow linked to Raava despite Raava being materialized outside of her body. F) What kind of crazy energybending is Korra doing? We’ve never seen ANYTHING like this before. One explanation is that spiritual energy is simply amplified during Harmonic Convergence, amplifying a person’s innate spiritual energy (see Jinora’s enhanced abilities). But also think about this - despite not being the Avatar anymore, she still meditated into that astral plane place.
We’ve only seen Aang get to this place before when he was trying to enter the Avatar State.
G) So what does it even mean to purify a spirit? Eventually, Jinora somehow did some crazy spirit shit and illuminated Raava’s energy inside of Vaatu. Korra managed to extract Raava from Vaatu, and then she purified Vaatu and his weird golden spirit bits floated into the sky. We’ve seen Korra use that technique to purify spirits before - Sometimes we saw them turn “happy” again and go on their merry way. Other times we saw that disappear into golden dust. It was said that pacifying spirits via waterbending actually meant altering and affecting their spiritual energy. The technique “involves changing a spirit’s
negative energy into positive energy, restoring its internal balance in
the process“ (Avatar Wikia). So what exactly does this do…? It obviously doesn’t “kill” anything… does this mean that spirit cannot die, but their energy can be transformed?
H) Vaatu was cleansed and is “gone”, but a bit of him is permanently inside of Raava regardless… Thus he is inside of Korra, regenerating slowly.
I) Despite being “destroyed”, the new Raava emerges from Vaatu with all of her memories intact. She remembers EVERYTHING! I.E. the little bit of her inside of Vaatu is connected to all things happening outside of Vaatu.
1) The human side of the Avatar (Wan, Korra, etc.) and the spirit side (Raava) were permanently fused togetherat the first Harmonic Convergence and formed the Avatar Spirit. I would argue this inherently changed the spirit/essence of Raava. Raava is always linked to the itty bit of herself inside of Vaatu, that bit of her was also permanently altered.
Think about it like the Cloud - changes to Raava’s spirit will always “update” inside of Vaatu.
Raava was separated from Korra and “destroyed”, but nothing about her CAN be destroyed because she ALWAYS exists inside of Vaatu. Raava’s memories, the Avatar Cycle, and the connections to past lives always simultaneously existed inside of Vaatu and could never be destroyed.
2) Spiritual energy / Spirits cannot die, but their energy can be transformed. The golden light we see when Vaatu is purified, when Raava is destroyed, when the past Avatars disappear? That’s not death or disappearing - it’s the energy being changed into something else.
3) When Korra meditated in the Tree of Time, she was connecting to her innate spiritual energy. While doing so, she heard that male voice. I think it was a past life, probably Wan, reaching out to her from the bit of Raava inside of Vaatu. Despite being separated, a bit of Korra/the Avatar Spirit still existed inside of Vaatu. Think about what the voice said:
“Find the Light in the Dark.”
It was advice. It was Wan encouraging Korra to reunite with the bit of Raava (AND the bit of herself/the Avatar connected to Raava) inside of Vaatu.
4) It’s clear that Korra and Raava CAN be pulled apart, but I think there is enough evidence to say the link between Raava and Korra transcends their physical forms - despite being separated there was still something there. Korra and Raava “reconnected” to each other after the battle with UnaVaatu to make themselves one whole entity again, but in reality, their separation was just an illusion. So, I think the Avatar’s past lives/Avatar Spirit was never actually destroyed. That information still exists in the world due to the nature of Vaatu and Raava’s very being, due to spirits never really dying, and because I think the Avatar Spirit is an indestructible force that binds Raava and Wan together for eternity. The separation of Raava/Korra was an illusion because Raava/Korra still existed inside of Vaatu. They can’t connect to past Avatars because neither of them know how to “reconnect” or “find” the past lives inside of them and they think they’ve been destroyed. (Raava’s never had this happen before, it makes sense she wouldn’t know how this works.)
This leaves it open - maybe Genji will be able to recover the connections after all.
full moon lunar eclipse tonight in leo (my sun) & upcoming new moon solar eclipse in pisces (my moon). feeling much needed good energy from this! i set intentions with the 1st new moon of the year in aquarius and i’m feeling the energy of power / warmth / peace which feels like a gentle reminder from the universe that my light is stronger than my fears & that it’s safe to trust in the flow.
leo full moon is a time to focus on the self. being mindful that ego is dependent on fear empowers us to work with our inner consciousness and cultivate strength & peace that radiate from within. we’re secure to ground ourselves and find solace in seeing & feeling the fire and light within us–even if we’ve forgotten it exists 🌙
pisces new moon: deepening our connection to our spiritual & emotional truth, focusing on intuitive energy, healing our karma to explore new ways of being, resetting ourselves / emptying our spirit of negativity and growing to be healthier versions of ourselves. pisces is an ocean of compassion and sensitivity; it is the end of the zodiac, representing change & releasing old (negative) concepts of ourself to generate a new consciousness. there is strength in flowing, in letting ourselves receive and witness our inner light, & finding comfort in the silence and gentleness of our connectedness to the universe. pisces new moon with a solar eclipse is a genesis of deeply positive, mystical change that will reflect to us what we can conjure when we commit our energy to understanding our own divinity ✨
◇ Colour means so much to Yuta, much more than meets the eye.
◇ Yuta x reader
◇ ???? This is like 3k words also 500 followers?? What??? Omg guys let me love u thank u so much, it feels like just yesterday i wrote a scenario to celebrate 400 followers ;u;
Grey upon black upon white upon grey. That was the faith thrown upon every person who had not found their soulmate. You were born looking into a monochrome world, you grew up learning about colours you’d never seen before.
Yuta had no idea what was so beautiful about colour. He didn’t get why his mother would describe his skin tone as beautifully golden. He didn’t know why his brother told him he has vivid chestnut brown hair. The grass was described as a bright, nice green and the sky varied, apparently.
He was in no hurry to find his soulmate. He had things to be worrying about - the upcoming football tournament, finals, his friends… His soulmate - and colour - could wait.
“Yuta!” Somebody calls - Yuta is flung from his reverie, gasping slightly as if he’s only learned how to breath. Blinking, he turns from staring out of the window, the tall trees turning to a dull classroom filled with chattering students, all rising from their seats and grabbing their bags to walk to lunch.
“Hey,” Johnny frowns, waving a hand in front of his friend’s face, “What’s with you?”
Inhaling deeply, Yuta shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, as if the idea was completely alien to him, fumbling with his books and shoving them into his bag,“This class is boring, is all.”
Yuta doesn’t think Johnny’s bought it, but his friend shrugs anyway, standing from where he was leaning against a desk and patting his shoulder encouragingly, strolling towards the door of the empty classroom.
“Whatever - just be on the ball for Friday!” The football pun makes Yuta cringe, laughing at the pure cheesiness of it, but he bites his lip, pushing out from his desk with his supplies and running after his friend.
“What if I meet my soulmate when I’m 80?” Jaehyun rants worriedly, the normally ‘manly’ man’s breath quickening as he shoves chopstick after chopstick of rice into his mouth, not even registering the taste of the steaming stew he was spooning into himself. “I - I can’t wait that long, man. Call me impatient, but-”
“Honestly,” Yuta scoffs loudly, leaning on his elbow boredly and taking in the image of his anxious friend who had turned to him. “What’s so great about colour? Or a soulmate? I’ve lived all my life so far without both of them, and I’m completely fine - and you will be, too, when you finally realize that you don’t need some stupid soulmate to make your life amazing.”
He doesn’t realize the whole table had gone completely silent at the end of his bitter speech until he looks up, a piece of chicken in his mouth. “What?”
Taeyong frowns at him, pushing his strawberry milk over to Winwin while shaking his head at Yuta. The blonde has that condescending look on his face that means he’s going to lecture somebody - Yuta must’ve offended him with his ‘soulmates are pointless’ rant. “I feel sorry for you, really.”
“Why?” Yuta narrows his eyes, raising an eyebrow challengingly, as if daring him to try and change his mind, “Because I don’t need somebody to complete me?”
“You don’t get it,” Taeyong groans in exasperation, “Having a soulmate isn’t about being completed, idiot. It’s about having somebody who will compliment your personality and help you get better as a person. The colour just comes with them - and it helps you identify them.”
He shakes his head. “Before I met Winwin, my grades were falling and I was barely scraping an F. I got detention every day. Now, I’m getting As easily, and I haven’t been in detention for the last few months!”
Yuta glowers at the sight of a blushing Winwin, stealing loving glances at Taeyong and sipping at the strawberry milk in an attempt to hide the bouqet of redness that had spread over his cheeks - or, at least he thinks it’s redness. He’s been told that the darker shade of gray spreading over a person’s face was called a blush, and that it was ‘red’.
Huffing, he pushes away his empty lunch tray and slips off of the benches, muttering a ‘whatever’ as he storms away.
He knows what was said was true. But Nakamoto Yuta is a stubborn boy, and he pushes the reassuring words from his brain as he angrily shoves books into his locker.
Yuta cared about football more than he cared about colour. Well, that was easy to guess, due to the fact that the stubborn boy cared about almost everything more than colour.
Football was comfort. Football was familiarity. It was adrenaline coursing through his veins, the grass beneath his feet, sharp breaths erupting from his lungs and shouts from the many people who would watch. It was seeing shades of black and gray and white whipping passed his face as he sprinted towards the goal, football expertly being steered towards the white goalpost.
Yuta doesn’t know where his fear of the unknown had sprouted from, not unlike a pesky weed that he couldn’t rid himself of. Maybe it was when he was 5, and he was informed that there was somebody in the world who could make him see something called ‘colour’. Maybe it was when he first started playschool with no friends and only a love for football, or maybe it was when he moved away from Japan and to Korea with his family, only a gentle grasp on the language and culture.
Yuta was normally confident - he knew how to deal with trivial things, like learning a new language or talking to new people. He’s used to it. But this - this, this colour - and the person who could bring it to him - they were both uncharted territory, and Yuta didn’t like that. He wasn’t fond of the idea of a person having so much control over him, a person who had the power to change his whole life.
They could be scared, too, the reasoning voice in Yuta’s head advises. You have the power to make them see colour as well. So why are you so reluctant? Why are you so scared?
The sound of frustration that escapes him echoes throughout the fresh air surrounding him. Why was he so scared? He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe - just maybe, he insists to himself - he doesn’t want to get hurt. Like he’s seen so many times before.
“How was school?” Yuta’s mother greets him from the kitchen, the delicious smell of dinner wafting through the house and making his mouth water.
“Fine,” he replies casually, slipping his bag off and pattering up the stairs to take off his uniform. The conversation from earlier echoes in his head over and over again like a broken record. After taking out his homework, he accidentally spends at least 10 minutes doodling on his desk - a closer look at the seemingly meaningless doodles showcase swirly words, intertwining with each other - red, green, blue, purple, orange, pink, yellow.
He brushes it off as his mind wandering, not bothering to think about why his mind would be shoving the thought of colours and soulmates to the front of his train of thought. He slips downstairs for dinner, hoping that the delicious food would prove a distraction, but even he knows that’ll be hard.
Yuta’s mother is beautiful. Really, she is. On the inside and out. She cooks, she’s smart and kind. Yuta has no idea why his father would leave her.
When Yuta was a baby, it happened. The soulmate bond started weakening, as it usually did with old age - but instead of working to strengthen the bond, as most did, his parents seemed to fall apart at the seams. His father stayed in Japan and the rest of his immediate family travelled to Korea after a few years, and he witnessed the light drain slowly from his mother’s eyes.
Her colours were draining from her. As the last of her love for his father was swept away with the wind, her colours, her amazing, vibrant colours, were leaving. Yuta never wanted to be in a position where his life is changed, eyes bursting with colour and happiness and love, and suddenly it’s snatched away from him. Suddenly, it’s like he never found the one person who’s made for him - and suddenly, all the hope is flung from your mind.
It was hard to say something so harsh and inconsiderate, especially with her sitting directly across from him, laughing gently at something his older brother had said - but Yuta didn’t want to end up like his mother. And he didn’t want to be his father, either.
Ji Hansol had always been Yuta’s best friend. He was a dork, but he was shy in front of others and he was convinced that he was a ‘real man’, all because he had picked up a bug one time and hadn’t burst out crying. Yuta wasn’t sure if he hated or loved the bond he shared with him - especially now.
“What d'you mean you’re scared?” Hansol frowns, leaning back with his tilted towards the beaming sun. It’s Thursday, one day before the big football game that Yuta was participating in, and the day Yuta finally came to terms with what was wrong with him.
It had taken a lot of meditation and self-reflection to realise that he was just scared. Yuta was stubborn, and had a fierce pride. He liked to prove everybody wrong, even himself, and trying to finally listen to his subconscious had taken a lot of will power and thought.
“About - about the soulmate thing,” Yuta lowered his voice, peering around for anyone who might be lurking, even though him and Hansol were the only two people on the rooftop. “I think that’s why I got so irritated the other day.”
Hansol sits up fully, and Yuta’s not sure if he appreciates the intimidating stature of his friend or if it makes him even more nervous and ashamed to talk so openly about his feelings. “Go on.”
Yuta shakes his head, sighing deeply and running a hand through his chestnut hair. “I - you know how it went with my parents. I told you before. And I don’t want that to be me - I don’t want to be my parents.”
Hansol shrugs as if his answer is the simplest thing in the universe. “Then don’t. Be yourself.” Yuta stares at him for a second. On one hand, the advice was so vague that it was stupid - but on the other hand, it was just easy enough for Yuta to consider.
“That… was surprisingly helpful,” Yuta murmurs, narrowing his eyes in fake suspicion and making his friend snort quietly.
“What exactly were you expecting?” Hansol questions, sighing as he stretches his arms above his head, abruptly standing from the stone bench they had been seated on after taking a sharp glance at the metal watch on his slender wrist. “Come on, lunch’ll be over in ten minutes.”
Yuta is almost glad that he almost missed lunch, because that stone in the pit of his stomach has dissolved, and he feels as if he can finally breath easily.
Football has never been your favorite sport - not at all. You didn’t get what was so appealing about kicking a ball of air and leather around, but to each their own, you guess.
Your dislike for football doesn’t seem to faze your older brother, who insists that you travel 20 minutes by bus just to see him play a neighbouring school. You want to object, really, you do, but the team goes for pizza after every game, and that’s something you’d travel 20 minutes alone for.
And so you spend 20 minutes staring out of the window of a bus, earphones plugged into your ears as you watch the monochrome world pass you by.
You’ve always wondered what it’d be like to see colour. To see the various shades of something other than gray, to discover the ugliness and the beauty of the vibrant colours, to find what was associated with what and what complimented you.
And when you wondered abour colour, you wondered about your soulmate. Who were they? A girl, boy, tall, short, thick, thin, sad, happy? Were they even in Korea? Would they be happy to see you as much as you’d be happy to see them? You felt impatient and needy seeing other couples walk around happily, the world available to them in colour but they were only focused on the world cuddled in their arms.
You wanted that. God, you wanted it so bad that your heart ached if you though about it for too long. You wanted, craved, needed somebody that you could love as much as they (hopefully) loved you. You wanted to point out colours to them, to experience each one together and have the type of love that would never die out.
Your daydream has you in the clouds as you step off of the bus at what you think is the right spot, pulling out your earphones as you start to stride towards the tall school - or, more specifically, the pitch beside it.
The stands are already filled with people by the time you get there, but luckily you’re spotted by a hyperactive member of your brother’s team, who smiles excitedly and grabs your hand, yanking you through crowds of people to the front of the stands, where the subs were sitting and conversing with some people from the other team that were sitting on the benches directly beside them.
You’re placed closest to the other team’s bench, fiddling awkwardly with your earphones and hoping nobody can see the discomfort rising in your body. You’re praying that the game will start soon so that you can focus on something other than your earphone and you won’t be forced to partake in awkward conversations.
“_____!” You hear your name, your head whipping towards the sound - your brother is running towards you, a smile painted on his face st the sight of you. “You came after all.”
“Well, you know me,” you tease as he stops in front of you, “I can’t turn down free food.” He narrows his eyes, a sarcastic laugh coming from him as he shakes his head.
“Funny, really. Well, the game’s about to start, so watch well, okay?” He raises his eyebrows, not waiting for you to reply before he was turning and running onto the pitch with the rest of the players.
Sighing, you vaguely wonder if this was a good idea - but it’s too late, and you covertly slip an earphone into your ear while you inspect the football match with a slight interest. It’s easy to spot your brother’s teammates among the other school’s players, with their light gray gear. However, even with the bright clothing, your attention is focused on the other team.
Or, specifically, Nakamoto. That’s his last name, his number is 7, and his gear is a darker shade of gray, but not as dark as his ruffled hair and furrowed eyebrows - you can see him, even from here, arms pumping as he twists his leg expertly around the leg of another player - your brother -, the ball suddenly in his possession before you can realize.
Maybe he feels your eyes on him, maybe he feels the need to take a look around with the ball so easily being kicked towards his destination, but his head snaps over to where you’re sitting - and suddenly his eyes are on yours. And they - they aren’t black, or gray, or white. They’re warm, and comforting, and you have no idea how to explain the colour of them, but they just are.
There’s a gasp heard throughout the crowd as Nakamoto stumbles, tumbling to the ground with his eyes wide open - he’s staring around him in wonder, ignoring the hands that are shaking him, ignoring the ball that had rolled away, ignoring the players asking if he’s okay - what happened, you were doing great?
But he’s not listening. He mutters something to the referee, who nods in understanding, pushing him off the field and sending in another person. Yuta doesn’t even notice - he’s too busy taking in the pure beauty that surrounds him.
The colour radiating from the sun can only be described as warmth - enveloping him and everyone else in its presence. He almost stops in the middle of the field to take in the colours bleeding into dull gray around him. The grass is such a bright, happy colour. He understands why it was called vivid, now.
As he collapses onto the steel bench next to the other subs, he doesn’t want to blink. He’s missed out on this - at one point, he feared this - but now he can’t get enough of it. He feels almost greedy, bis eyes feeding off the vibrant colours and flickering back and forth between everything. So caught up in his need to ingest all of the colours properly, his soulmate almost slips his mind.
The benches look so much more different than they did when they were dull grey. The colours are molding together but sharp and in contrast to each other. Yuta almost finds it hard to spot you - but when he does, trust me, he does.
You’re not too far, but Yuta’s sure it’s you - he hopes it’s you. He feels his heart pound as he notices the way your wide eyes are trying to take in everything around you. He worms himself in between the space between the two benches, raising his hand to tap on your shoulder nervously.
You jump a bit, and it makes Yuta flinch. God, he’s so nervous he has to stop his hand from shaking, especially as you finally face him, your cheeks flushed with 'red’. Your eyes widen, and you open your mouth to say something, buy nothing comes out.
“I - I’m Yuta,” he greets awkwardly, trying to smile in a friendly manner to calm your nerves (even though his own nerves were through the roof). “A - and you are?”
“I - I’m _____ ,” you breathe, yanking your earphone out of your ear to give him your full attention. The air is awkward but you’re ecstatic, especially when he gives you a bright smile.
“Not a fan of football?” He questions, making you stutter to answer his question. Your reaction has him chuckling, his own cheeks heating up in a blush. He already feels himself emerge from the nervous and cold shell he was surrounded by whenever he was anywhere except with his friends. Taeyong’s words really hit him at that moment.
“You know,” he bites his lip, staring down at you bashfully, “One of my friends said that a soulmate balances you out. And I think that can’t be anymore true.” Your face is confused but at the sight of Yuta, looking so perfectly loving and shy, you bite your lip to contain the squeal welling up inside you.
Yuta understands what colour is now. Colour is the warm yellow of the sun setting over your skin, his arms wrapped around you and kissing your forehead. Colour is the bright green grass underneath his feet when he plays football, your encouraging sounds making him even more persistent to win. Colour is the red that spreads over your cheeks when he kisses you suddenly, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.
Colour is the way your fingers tangle in his brown hair as you press your lips to his - colour is the blue of the sky you’re looking into, it’s the orange of a flower tucked behind your ear.
Colour is love, and emotion, and memories - and Yuta doesn’t know why he was so scared of it.