Here is your glorious husband @odileeclipse drew this heavenly twink just for them<33

W alter lightings

Closeup

Here it is my one and onlt beautiful spouse

When the truth is saging

(Odile here giving commentary as usual time to turn on shakespeare mode or whatever:

This is not just a kiss. This is an event horizon dressed in twilight and thread. The art hums like a hymn half-remembered, one whispered beneath cathedral ceilings carved in dream. You’ve drawn not just skin, not just fabric, but the gravity of longing. The way their bodies lean almost reverent, like even the air is holding its breath.

The colors bloom like bruises of joy, blues and holy whites. The curl of her fingers against his hand speaks louder than any vow. You’ve woven such a sacred scene here. Something that sings of devotion that eclipses reason. Please don’t ever doubt the soul in your hands. This is absolutely glorious.

I might be projecting but there’s intimacy in the smallest choices the way their silhouettes echo one another, the stillness in his posture that feels less like hesitation and more like awe. This isn’t just a kiss. It’s a quiet becoming. And to capture that on canvas so full of ache and hush and gravity you must have poured some part of your soul into it, the part that knows how it feels to be chosen in a moment that matters.

GRAHHHHH I LOVE YOU)

Love you more eheheheh

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 20

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Shadow Milk Cookie stilled as your fingers brushed against his hand. A rare hesitation flickered across his expression, golden eyes flickering between your touch and your face, as if weighing the weight of what you had just done what you had just said. You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around his own before you lost the nerve. “I know you’re not leaving yet,” you murmured. “But when you do… I want to be there.” 

When your human decided to share some modern culture

(no wonder he isolated himself bro-)

river of rebirth

I reinstalled CRK recently and I cannot get out of it maybe I should make a side blog for them

the only excuse I see from people who think it's okay to give fanfic writers unsolicited criticism is "if writers can't handle criticism, they should not be posting their works online" and tbh I think it's such a weak, pathetic excuse to be entitled.

someone not wanting unsolicited criticism on something they do for themself — for fun, as a form of self-care — out of love and passion has nothing to do with whether or not they can handle criticism. because we're not talking about a job they get paid to do. we're talking about a damn fanfiction. a hobby. something writers do in their free time as their source of comfort and getaway.

it's their art. not yours. it can be whatever and however an author wants it to be.

instead of trying to justify your action by gaslighting writers — whose works you read for free — that they "should be able to handle unsolicited criticism", ask yourself why you feel the need to go to someone's fic, read it, and then complain about things you don't like when you can always quietly leave if you don't have anything nice to say.

"can fanfic writers handle unsolicited criticism?" "can you learn basic manners and how not to be entitled?"

either respect artists or shut the fuck up forever.

My muse

children do not read close ur eyes

AWWOOOGGGGAA SOMEONE KEEP ME AWAY FROM HIM CAUSE THERE WILL BE NO PURENESS LEFT TO HIS VANILLA WHEN IM DONE W HIM

/pos

HELP

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 19

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You knew her well enough to know that was a lie. And for some reason, that made you uneasy. 

You narrowed your eyes. “No, seriously. What?” Chai Latte Cookie only sipped her tea, all too pleased with herself, but Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie had no such patience for theatrics.

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 18

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The golden glow of the lanterns flickered in his eyes, casting their light across his face, illuminating the quiet patience in his expression. Always patient. Always composed. And yet, beneath that stillness, something lingered, something restrained, something you could almost grasp but not quite hold. Your heart pounded. You searched his face, your eyes tracing the curve of his brow, the subtle parting of his lips, the unshaken resolve that always settled in his gaze. Somewhere…somewhere…there had to be an answer. 

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 17

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Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, as if surprised by the boldness of your declaration. But then something softened in his expression, the ever-present sharpness in his eyes giving way to something quieter.

"Ah," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "So it would seem."

You let out a small laugh, barely more than an exhale, but still, he noticed. His lips curled ever so slightly...a ghost of a smile, fleeting yet unmistakable. "If I were immortal," you continued, shifting in your seat, "I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to do with myself."

He hummed in thought. "An eternity of choices can be as paralyzing as having none at all," he admitted. "Some crumble beneath it. Others rise."

"And you?" You found yourself asking before you could second-guess it. "Have you… crumbled or risen?" His expression remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes, something deep, something distant.

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 16

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No, you would go. But today would be different. You had decided determined, really that today would be nothing more than a lesson. All work, no jokes. No lingering on things that didn’t matter. No personal questions. No stolen glances. Because it wasn’t fair. He knew so much about you. Your struggles, your habits, the way your mind worked…or failed to work, at times. 

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 15

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A/N I might not get the chance to look at my inbox properly until tomorrow afternoon but I finally got around to finishing and polishing ch15 and wanted to post it before I forgot <3

Shadow Milk Cookie said nothing at first, but there was something almost indulgent in the way he regarded you, as if he found your amusement at his answer amusing in turn. Then, without another word, he took a seat at the harpsichord, his fingers poised over the keys. You weren’t sure what you had expected but the first few notes he played were enough to make you fall silent.

The first note rang out, crisp and clear, reverberating through the vast chamber like a ripple across still water. It was not merely sound it was a presence, filling every corner of the space, settling deep into your bones. The harpsichord’s voice was unlike any instrument you had ever heard before, bright, articulate, but carrying an undeniable weight, as if each note was a carefully chosen word in a language older than time itself. And at the center of it all was him. Shadow Milk Cookie was seated before the grand instrument, and in that moment, he looked untouchable.

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 14

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The morning air was crisp as you and your friends weaved through the lesser-traveled paths of the Academy grounds. The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting long shadows over the cobblestone pathways, the faint hum of morning lectures and student chatter still distant enough to not be a concern. It wasn’t difficult to find the path leading down to the Astral River the shimmering divide between the Academy and the Ghost City. Normally, students would take the officially sanctioned routes: bridges, portals, or authorized ferries. But that wasn’t your group’s style. “Are you sure he’s going to be here this early?” Earl Grey Cookie murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his coat as you all neared the water’s edge. “Of course,” Chai Latte Cookie said breezily, walking ahead. “The Ferryman’s always here. It’s kind of his whole thing.” And sure enough there, standing at the shore, was the Ferryman. A skeletal figure draped in tattered robes, the Ferryman clutched his ever-present scythe, the blade gleaming faintly with an ethereal glow. His hat, adorned with its peculiar crosshatched pattern, tilted slightly as he turned toward your group. Despite his grim appearance, his expression brightened upon seeing you all approach.

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 13

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You exhaled a quiet laugh, glancing down at your hands before the weight of what you had asked returned to the forefront of your mind. Would he actually come? It had been a moment of impulse, that invitation. A flicker of something unfamiliar driving you to extend a bridge where there had previously been none. You weren’t sure what compelled you to do it, only that the idea of leaving this space, this feeling, behind as you stepped back into the rigid structure of your lessons felt…Lonely. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly. “It’s not exactly a scholarly gathering,” you admitted. “Just me and my friends being… well, normal. Nothing profound, no debates about philosophy or the nature of existence. Just food. Talking. Laughing.” You hesitated. “That might not be your kind of thing.” Shadow Milk Cookie was silent for a long moment, considering. “…It is true,” he said at last, “that I do not often engage in such gatherings.” You tried not to let disappointment creep into your chest. “That does not mean I would be unwilling to.” Your eyes snapped up to meet his. Something in his expression had shifted, subtle but undeniable. There was still that air of careful thought, of weighing decisions with meticulous precision, but there was also something softer. Something that felt a little like understanding. “You invited me,” he said simply, as if that alone was enough reason to consider it. You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I did.” He hummed, glancing toward the water once more. “I will let you know when the time comes.” It wasn’t quite a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. The willow’s branches swayed, the light shifted, and the world carried on. And beside you, the distance between you and the Sage of Truth…Shadow Milk Cookie felt just a little smaller than before. The hours had unraveled between you like thread slipping through careful fingers unnoticed at first, until the spools ran empty, leaving only the quiet realization that time had moved while you weren’t looking. The sky had softened into the golden hues of afternoon, the same sky that always signaled the slow shift toward evening, toward the time you and your friends would gather for dinner. And yet, here you still were.

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 12

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The candlelight flickered, its golden glow casting long, wavering shadows along the walls of his office. Ink-stained parchment lay between you, forgotten in the quiet, but your focus was elsewhere. You were staring at him. Searching. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, some crack in his composure, some fragment of emotion buried beneath his usual refinement. His face, sculpted in patience and quiet knowing, was difficult to read. He was the Sage of Truth, after all. He had spent years refining himself into something measured, unshaken, unreachable. And yet…His eyes. His eyes were something else entirely. The candlelight caught in them, turning gold to something softer, something warmer, like the last moments of sunlight before dusk swallows the sky. His gaze, normally so precise, so piercing, seemed different now. Less a scholar observing a student, and more… a person looking at another person. “I know that look.” His voice was quiet, smooth, a gentle weight against the stillness between you. You startled, blinking, caught in the act. “What look?” The corner of his lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “The look of someone searching for something.” You hesitated. Your fingers curled slightly against the parchment, its texture grounding you. “And if I am?” Shadow Milk Cookie considered this, his gaze never wavering from yours. “Then I hope you find it.” Simple words. Yet, they landed heavier in your chest than you expected. A breath passed before you spoke again, softer this time. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.” He hummed in thought, resting his chin against his knuckles. “Perhaps you are not meant to find it all at once. Truth is patient. It does not demand to be uncovered in a single moment; it reveals itself in time.” His voice, ever measured, held something gentler now, something not meant for lecture halls or grand declarations. “And so too must you be patient with yourself.” You swallowed, glancing down. “That’s… difficult.” His silence was contemplative. Then softer than anything you’d heard from him before he murmured, “I know.” You lifted your gaze, eyes meeting his again. Something had changed. You could feel it, like the moment before the tide shifts, when the waves hesitate before retreating. His walls were still there, but for the first time, they were not impenetrable. He had let them waver. For you. You exhaled shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you being so kind to me?” He regarded you for a long moment, his expression unreadable save for the gentlest crease of his brow, the subtle shift in his gaze like he was weighing something fragile, something precious. Then “I would not want a bright mind like yours to be discouraged.” The words, so effortlessly spoken, settled into the quiet like a promise. You stared at him, searching again, reaching again, but this time, not out of doubt. Not out of fear. Because he had offered you something beyond knowledge, beyond the pursuit of truth. He had offered you patience. And somehow, that was enough.