#or have it be a side thing for garden of spheres

[turndecassette2]

what are you gonna do with wolrd heist after october

let it marinate in its own juices for a few months (lots of stuff going on) then tidy it up, maybe add a few pages next spring/summer to make it something physically publishable

[veebeeboo109]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{The past you have lost.}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Violence

Chapter 20: The Story Erased

Dimensions are funny. They don’t have distinct shapes. Not spheres or ellipses. Their edges are not so easily defined, and as they float in a vacuous void they sometimes align. Intersect. They mingle. Tickling at each other with the edges of the undefined borders.

On the edge of creation itself, dimensions get funnier. More absurd. The timelines written and fates unfold in ways that don’t make sense. Absurd in every way– the words unreadable even to the author. 

It’s in this peripheral timeline that your past lies. Nestled in an indefinable polygonal universe where myths and stories overlap like the plaited upper crust of an apple pie.

The planet of your birthplace is a scorched, war-torn place. The surface is covered in vast towering forests filled with deep, ancient magic and monstrous creatures. Oceans with gluttonous waves that only the very bravest dare to sail lest they be swallowed up by its wrathful gods. Expanding deserts of scorching sand are broken up by wide rivers, giving birth to lush fertile valleys. 

Kingdoms rise and fall. Settlements and villages claim to be under the protection of kings are flattened and raided by insurgent clans. All vying for control of the planet. Powerful people willing to destroy the land beneath their feet, and then lose the people who would serve them if it means they get to sit on the throne. 

Zayne has been fleeing this war his whole life. Running from the call of the deity he is blood-bound to serve. Only through magic and arcane arts has he found some semblance of sanctuary. Through years of hard work and isolation, he’s carved out a place, safe from the plundering, the fighting, the brutality. 

A large hollow on the inside of a mountain. A cavernous space with only two entrances– one that is shadowed and hidden by an illusion deep within a darkened forest. And the other, only escapable through miles and miles of tunnels that leads out on the other side to a desert.

There are little vents, barely the size of a goat that leads up to the surface, letting beams of light in. Well-placed crystals reflect that light to bounce around and illuminate the vast cavern. 

There are pools along the southern side of the cavern for water, and enough exposed soil to have a garden. Zayne intends to spend the rest of his life hiding here. He uses magic to build himself a house. A single room cottage is just enough for him. That’s all he needs. He has to remind himself at least once a day. This is all he needs. 

But there’s some thread woven in the fabric of his soul that seeks to help others. He’s strong. He’s capable. The power he wields could save lives, and this haven he’s found could keep them safe for generations. 

So, he begins to plan. He carves runes into walls of the cavern, plies them with magic to make this place undetectable. To make it firm. Unmoveable. Unfindable. He uses the gift of foresight that he had thought lost to him to find his first group to save. 

Master of Fate. Foreseer. They call him names of fables and legends. A man who comes at the perfect time and brings them to his sanctuary. His little house is paired with others. His cavern becomes a settlement, and the plain folk work to make this place safe from the world outside. 

You stumble into his sanctuary one cold winter day, wrapped in a thin cloak and shoeless. You are with a small group of refugees, uprooted by a recent series of razes by a group of barbarians. Your village has been destroyed, and any family that you may have had is long gone. 

Zayne greets your group as he does all of them. Informs you of how things work in this place, and how to best put their skills to use. You don’t even look at him, shivering beneath the ochre colored threadbare cloak. He sees your shivering shoulders, your bare nearly frostbitten toes and something twists in his chest. 

He reaches out to you, offers to help you. He wraps your feet in bandages and speaks gently to you. He tells you that he can find you some shoes, and come spring, there will be enough hides to make some new ones. 

When you finally meet his eyes, Zayne feels his fate settle into place. Sealed with hot wax and pressed with the imprint of your fingerprint.

He doesn’t indulge in the desire to be close to you, no matter how much it may nag at home. However, you are not one to deny yourself, and you follow him. You follow him around like a kitten, padding behind him on your misfitting shoes one of the other women gave to you. 

You help him with his chores. You mimic the movements of his hands when he reinforces the magic that protects this place. You ask him what the symbols in the books mean, and he realizes you’re illiterate. 

Zayne resigns himself to his fate. His fate that results with the two of you sitting up late into the night, his little cottage illuminated with a single tallow candle and a small fire in the heart. He shows you the symbols you were so curious about, and gives you passages to practice until you’re reading with ease. 

Next comes the magic. The runes that he writes are an unnameable language, and they’re impossible to understand for someone without the gift of magic. You don’t understand it, but the runes still light up for you. It’s like watching someone pick up an instrument they’ve never touched before and play. It’s sloppy, but it works. The music you play when you write the runes doesn’t have to make sense to you, but the intention remains. And it’s strong. 

Unwittingly, you become secondary to Zayne. When you walk along the paths of the settlement, people associate you with him. They respect you, they adore you. They thank you for helping and offer you things like a deity receiving offerings.You deny them all, happy to help. 

It’s a sign of peace, when children get into mischief. Stories and rumors that spread through little lips to little ears mean they feel safe enough to make up nonsense. 

The story of one of the pools being haunted reaches your ears, and you tell Zayne the outlandish tale some of the children bestowed to you. That a shadow lives in the heart shaped pool at the very edge of the cavern. It pulled one of the teenagers into the depths when they’d started throwing rocks at it, and they have a bite mark on their leg from it!

Zayne gives you a disbelieving look before he turns his attention back to the mortar and pestle. Grinding beetle thoraxes into a mush to add to a poultice he’s been working on. He makes a comment that children can be creative and returns to his work. 

A few weeks later and more stories of the heart shaped pool, and your curiosity finally gets the better of you. You go to the pool, expecting a large fish or even a trapped seal– so you bring some dried fish with you. 

There is indeed a shadow in the pool. Swirling around in its inky depths, barely illuminated by a refracted beam from a crystal nearby. This is one of those that goes unfathomably deep, and you see the long, serpentine shadow spin around the limited space. 

You keep a few feet away from the edge and toss a dried fish onto the water’s surface. The desiccated carcass of the mackerel floats and sends tiny ripples across the crystal surface. You sit down onto your knees and wait, watching it float lazily until thwip! Faster than lightning the fish is snatched and the surface of the water is barely disturbed. 

With glee in your heart, you toss another. And watch as that one is snatched too. When you throw the third, it’s snatched but then tossed back at you. Hitting you squarely in the face with a wet, fishy slap.

Aghast, you stand and go to the edge of the water, and that is where you meet Rafayel. 

He’s an agitated thing. Hissing at you that you and the rest of your lot should be bowing to him. That he is the god of the tides and the swells!

You note that he’s in a little pool, and so he’s not the god of much right now. He splashes you with a wave that nearly knocks you off your feet and disappears beneath the water. 

You return to Zayne soaking wet, and you see the dark haired man laughing at you with his eyes. 

It takes you another month to convince the god of the tides to speak to you again. More mackerel is offered as well as some berries you’d found while out in the forest recently. The summer had made them fat and sweet, and Rafayel devoured them ravenously. 

You go to the pool once a day, in the evenings before bed. And eventually, Rafayel is there to meet you. Resting on the edge of the pool with his head on his crossed arms. He pesters you constantly, teasing you for dressing too plainly and for the lack of berries when you don’t bring any. 

He talks of his kingdom. A wondrous, luminous civilization at the bottom of the ocean untouched by the wars and desolation above for centuries. Only recently as the pollution begun to reach their waters, and Rafayel had set out to find its source. To recon and return. However, he got stuck. A leviathan chased him to these pools and in the battle that hollowed out this cavern decades ago, it sealed him inside. 

You don’t know if you believe his tale, because it would mean Rafayel has been here far longer than Zayne. That this sanctuary was carved by happenstance in a battle of deities. What an outlandish fable!

Late in the summer, when the heat has reached its peak, a band of armed soldiers comes rushing into your sanctuary. Some of the plain folk panic, because they recognize the colors of their cloaks and the sigils on their golden armor. 

Zayne intervenes, and the soldiers fall at his feet to beg for sanctuary. They have defected from their king and seek only peace. Peace, and aid for the one they carry on a rudimentary stretcher.

The man lies unconscious, heavily bleeding and his wounds poorly tended to. The sight of his ashen pallor makes your stomach twist, and you’re promising aid before Zayne can stop you. 

The Prince of Philos. That’s what the people whisper as you lead the knights and their unconscious ward to a tent. The others who usually tend to the wounded refuse to help you. They refuse to help him. The young man who’s the heir to the throne of a kingdom so hell bent on owning this planet that they’d sooner see it destroyed than in someone else’s hands. 

But a man shouldn’t suffer for the sins of his father, that’s what you tell yourself at least. You’re not a healer by any means, but Zayne has books and you’ve seen enough of war to know how to clean a wound. How to sew up separated flesh. How to wrap it tight, but not too tight. You know what infection smells like and how hot a body can get before it dies. 

Xavier is tough, and you learn his name when he wakes up on the third day. It’s a brief moment of clarity and he thinks he’s dead for the majority of it. In whisper-soft tones, he asks if you’re an angel, and you laugh and tell him no. 

It’s five days of tending to Xavier before Rafayel can’t take it anymore, and shows up at your door with a furrowed brow and human legs and demands to know where you’ve been. 

Overcoming the shock of his altered form is one thing, but he’s also very very naked. He scoffs at you when you try to cover him with a blanket, but eventually you're able to get to cover himself with one of your old cloaks. He wraps it around his waist and ties it, like it’s a favor he’s doing for you and not basic modesty. 

Rafayel is not pleased that you’ve been neglecting your daily visits to play sick nurse. He’s very nonchalant about the sorry state of the prince, nudging him with his foot and scoffing at him. He tells you it’s a waste of time, and that you’d have a much better time if you spent it with him. 

You make your disdain for such talk plain. Telling this so-called god that if he has no care in his heart for the wounded then he should return to his pools and stay there. You have no interest in spending time with such callous people. 

Rafayel huffs and leaves your tent, but he’s back in less than an hour. He plops himself down next to you, giving you the silent treatment for the remainder of the afternoon but sighing heavily. 

Eventually he starts to help you, bringing in washbasins of water to clean Xavier’s wounds, and even helping you apply some poultices and bandages. Even though he complains about it, Rafayel’s work is perfect and gentle. He whines about helping clean Xavier’s hair, but still holds the prince’s head with a cradling touch. 

Zayne visits often, and has to, on multiple occasions bring you to bed to prevent you from sleeping on the floor of the healing tent. He carries you some nights, and other nights Rafayel does. 

It’s not clear when Zayne’s house because your house too, and foggier still when it became Rafayels. The sea god returns to his pool often, but many nights he can be found next to you– claiming a necessity for body heat even in the midst of summer. 

It’s a full month before Xavier is lucid, and you’re not sure how to interact with him when he’s awake. He’s a quiet man. Soft-spoken but not docile in the slightest. He takes what you’ve done for him very seriously, and when he’s able to get out of bed, the first thing he does is kneel before you. 

There’s sweat on his brow from the pain of such movement, but determination set in his cerulean eyes. Then and there he swears his life to yours. Your sword. Your shield. His life is your, for you have spared him and brought him back from the brink of oblivion. 

It’s a lot to absorb. Being at the central point of such dedication makes you a little dizzy, and you try to deny him at first, but what’s done is done. The oath has been made. The exchange signed in blood. He is yours– now, and forever. 

The armored soldiers that had brought Xavier into the sanctuary have incorporated into the settlement well. They have joined in hunts for meat and game, and take turns in shifts guarding the entrance.When they hear Xavier has risen, they rush to his side. 

Xavier promptly informs them that their fealty now lies with you. You are their master, and it is up to you to decide what to do with them. Xavier is no longer a prince. No longer their liege. He is just a man– and he smiles softly like a man with sudden airy freedom when he says those words. 

After talking with Zayne, he appoints them to the rotation of guard and hunters. Letting them decide where they are most comfortable. This is a sanctuary– people should be free to do as they wish. Though, when Zayne tries to suggest Xavier join the watch or the patrols, the fair haired man informs the Foreseer that he will remain at your side. The others can protect the sanctuary, and he will protect you. 

Zayne consents to your new sworn shield, a part of his heart soothed by the idea that you have protection when he’s not there. For so long, it had just been the two of you. From dawn til dusk you were by his side, but it is as he feared. You are radiant. And all who come into contact cannot help but be drawn to your light. He was bound to have to share eventually. 

But you always return to him. At the end of the day it is his house you come back to. New rooms have been added on, and there is more space than there once was, but you always find him. Share meals with him. Share stories of the friends you’ve made and the antics the sea god and prince get into. 

Xavier and Rafayel pose issues for the sanctuary, in Zayne’s mind. They are powerful, and their loyalty is to you. There is nothing to guarantee that they would come to the sanctuary’s aid if it came under attack. This unsettles him slightly, wondering if– should the sanctuary somehow pose a risk to your life, what actions would your new companions take? 

It takes almost a year before Zayne opens up to the others. Before he offers to break bread with them and offers them more than a few words of conversation. Xavier is strikingly intelligent, and they share an affinity for the written word. Xavier’s knowledge of politics aids in Zayne’s management of the sanctuary, and, eventually, Zayne calls Xavier his friend– and not just your guard. 

Rafayel takes offense at the rudimentary way the sanctuary has been set up. No thought at all to the aesthetic or design of it all. When Zayne informs him of its utilitarian nature, the sea deity scoffs and says that it is fine. He is here now and can make this place as lovely as it deserves to be. 

Time and care is put into this place by all of them. Altered in ways like a signature, molded around their overlapping desire to keep this place hidden, safe, and self-sufficient. 

Men of great power seem incapable of leaving no trace. Something indelible in the way they walk. Footsteps branded into the earth leaving behind folklore and fable. Tales of heroism and danger to both teach and delight the young and the old. 

It is another story. A rumor. That brings the fourth of your lovers to your side. Like the whispers of Rafayel’s pool that drew you to him in the first place, another round of hushed stories told by the youth is spread. 

This time, the children whisper of the tunnel– the gully, as the plain folk name it. Carved once by a long winding river that cut through this place but has long since dried. It runs for miles and miles beneath this mountain and beyond, leading to the desert.

They say that there is a beast in there. Lying in wait in the darkness, waiting for the unfortunate day that the sanctuary is breached and the people try to escape. Maw opened and waiting for the people to run inside and swallow them whole. 

When you hear one of the older teenagers spooking the young ones with this far off tale, you interrupt them. Telling them no such beast exists, and that there is nothing in the gully. Nothing but darkness. They should be ashamed of scaring the children like that, and you promptly send them to the shallow pools to do laundry as punishment. 

Though, you hear it again. The group who tends to the gardens speak of rumblings. Vibrations beneath their very feet when they grow close to the gulley’s entrance. Could it be? The hydra come back once more? Waiting until it is strong enough to devour the lot of them?

You ask Rafayel, and he laughs at you. That hydra is long dead. Each and every head severed and rotted beneath the soil, giving nutrition to the very food you eat now.

Curiosity gets the better of you once again, and you venture to the mouth of the gully. It’s hard to find a time when you’re not being followed by Xavier or Rafayel– or both, but the very wee hours of the morning you have some time. 

Standing at the mouth of the gulley, you feel the vibrations beneath your feet. Not large, barely discernible, but there. The softest of rumblings and it’s rhythmic– like breathing. 

You come back the next morning, and it’s still there. Though sometimes, it gets stronger. Like something taking in a large inhale and exhaling. Snoring, maybe. Whatever it is, it’s large. Large enough to make the very earth around you tremble with its sleepy breath. 

You voice your concerns to Zayne. Something is in the gully, you tell him. Something big. Zayne gives you a look and laughs softly, telling you not to believe the excited tales of children. 

It’s nearly autumn, and there are herds of animals that traverse the forest. Grand hunts are planned with every capable hand being forced to attend. The sanctuary cannot waste this opportunity for a feast of game. The meat alone is undeniably precious, but the pelts. The bones. Every part of the animal is needed to get through another winter comfortably. 

So, you wait until the men have gone. They’ve brandished their bows and their arrows and set out. Xavier leaves you with his blade, and Rafayel with a scale. Telling you not to be foolish and that they will be gone for only a week. Zayne goes too, relying on you to keep the magic in place in his stead. A large honor and a show of his respect and trust in your abilities. 

The gulley is pitch black. There is no light reflected past the first ten feet, and so you wield an orb of starlight in your palm. A simple spell that Zayne taught you and Xavier helped you perfect. But it’s like the gulley swallows it, the light only emanating barely past your body. 

You call out softly, Hello? You whisper to the darkness and the darkness replies. A low, rumbling growl of warning. It rattles the walls around you, pebbles from disrupted earth falling from the ceiling. 

You press on, because you must. And you come up on a fiend. A beast of ebony and crimson. Resting curled like a cat, with its tail around its armored back. Thick as a soldier’s shield and sharper than any steel. A dragon lifts its head and bares its teeth at you, and the heat of its breath hits you like a flame. 

In your utter terror, the light in your palm vanishes, sending you both into the darkness.

By the time you scramble to conjure another, there is a man in place of the best. No longer sitting curled as wide as the gulley can hold, but mountainous tall. His claws reach out and grab your face and dig into your face, he demands to know why you intrude on his domain.

Foolishly, you reply that you didn’t. That this place is part of the sanctuary where you live. The dragon is amused by your terror and lets you go, telling you to turn away and to not come back. He disappears into the darkness, and you run for your life back the way you came. 

There’s a week until Zayne and the others return, a dragon could decimate this place. Rain fire and destruction like rain from above and leave nothing but rubble for them to return to. You have to do something. Appease the dragon and beg for him to spare your sanctuary. 

So, you steal the remaining dried meat from Zayne’s stores and pack it into a bag. You recall stories of dragons liking shiny things, and you pack another bag of crystals from the collection you’ve created over the years. The prettiest and most colorful born from the cracks of the cavern. 

When you return to the dragon, his laugh is dark and deadly. He asks you whether you long for death or simply too stupid to know when it stands before you. 

You throw the bags at his feet and fall to your knees, begging him to spare your sanctuary. You didn’t mean to disturb his sleep, and you’ll do anything for him to leave the sanctuary alone. 

The dragon seems neither impressed nor moved by your display of groveling. He calls you pathetic, but takes your offerings anyway. He tells you that a fiend is not satisfied by one meager sacrifice. To satiate a beast, you must feed it often and plenty. 

You ask what he wants, beg him to name a price. He laughs at you, and tells you to try again tomorrow. He wants to see what you come up with. 

The rest of that week, you go everyday to the dragon’s lair. Bringing him trinkets and things you can scrounge up that he might like. You bring him more food– fresh berries and baked tarts. You bring him a blanket you stitched, embroidered using thread Zayne had given to you. You bring him more crystals that you fashion into a bracelet for him, the way Rafayel taught you to keep the gems from falling.

The day before the others are set to return, you’re shaking with anxiety. Zayne could possibly reason with the dragon, but Rafayel will certainly try to fight him. Xavier too, if need be. 

Only blood and death awaits if you do nothing. So you do something you haven’t done since coming to the sanctuary, you arm yourself. You tae Xavier’s lightblade and some dusty armor and haphazardly tie it your chest. 

When the dragon sees you again, you look like a doll put together by child’s hands. The blade in your hands is too heavy, and the armor hanging off your body. But the fire in your eyes burns him the same as it would from any warrior. This display– gazing upon a woman with the determination to protect what she loves– is the best offering you’ve brought him yet. 

Amused, he asks what you intend to do with that sword, and you reply you will do what you must. The protectors of the sanctuary are to return within a day, and you will protect them. If the dragon desires destruction, he will have to kill you first. 

The dragon informs you that it is you that assumed he desired to destroy anything. You who begged on hands and knees for him to be merciful when he had done nothing but sleep too close to your home. Though he admires your effort, the sanctuary was never in danger from him.

He laughs at the shocked look on your face, and tells you that he has finally decided on his price. He shall have you. For the remainder of your mortal years, he shall have you at his beck and his call. Whenever he wishes to see you, you will come. For that is what he desires. 

You ask him if he plans to leave, and he says not far. This sanctuary is home to his pet now, and so it should be protected. He shall find a place higher up on the mountain, and the mere sight of him will ward off even the most bold of raiders. 

He leaves you feeling foolish, and you sit and wait for the others to return. 

When Zayne, Rafayel, and Xavier return, they’re in a hurry. Shedding filthy clothes from their hunt and searching for armor. For weapons. A dragon is circling over their mountain, and they must prepare. 

Sheepishly, you tell them what happened. That you met the dragon and he is here to stay. He won’t bother the sanctuary so long as you visit when he calls. There is quite the uproar– each one having their denials. It’s a night of yelling, from all of you. You argue that it’s the least you can do. If the dragon had wanted to kill you, he would have. You think he might just be lonely. 

The dragon doesn’t call for you until a month later, and it comes in the form of a raven. Flying into the sanctuary and finding you helping tan some of the many hides the hunters had brought. 

You follow the red eyed raven out of the sanctuary and into the forest, up a winding path and to a high up ledge. The wind is strong and the cave the dragon lives in is shallow. It’s cold and hardly a home, but you don’t comment. Not this time at least. 

This visit, you bring him a bag full of more crystals and some fresh meat this time. And in return, he gives you his name. It’s not pronounceable in your tongue and so you call him the closest name you can. Sylus. 

He preens when you name him, and you’re starting to think your assumption was right. He’s lonely. This fearsome beast did not make this wager for want of cruelty or sadism, but because he likes to be around you. 

Autumn brings with it harvests. Wild gourds to find, and nuts to gather. The leaves begin to change and the wind gets a little sharper. There are days when you venture out without Xavier, and you’re not sure how Sylus knows but he always seems to because he will find you. Sitting high up in the trees and watching you pick at fallen acorns.

Weeks go by and eventually you comment of Sylus’ living conditions. His bed is nothing but a couple furs, and he has nothing to protect him from rain coming in. Winter is approaching, and his little cave is hardly shelter from it. 

You form a plan, and it takes a while to get everything in order. Getting a reclusive dragon down from the mountain and into your sanctuary isn’t as simple as it sounds. This isn’t a puppy you found while wandering the forests, it’s a fiend. One that the people will fear if they aren’t properly prepared. 

So you start in a similar way to how you found him, with rumors. You use Rafayel and his way with words to weave stories of the dragon that protects your mountain. The sea god finds the dragon interesting, and desires to meet this other creature from legend. So, he helps you with this plan to bring the dragon down into the cavern below. 

Xavier is reluctant, he does not trust a dragon on principle alone. It takes him longer to warm up to the idea of him living in the sanctuary with you all, and you only convince him it’s to better protect everyone. If Sylus feels welcomed by the settlement, he’ll feel more inclined to protect it. 

Zayne is, oddly, the hardest to convince. He is so cautious and worries what adding yet another large personality will do to the mix. It’s bad enough having Rafayel here, who could level this place if his whim willed it. Having another man who could end everything they’ve worked so hard to build? No. 

You decide better to ask forgiveness than permission when it comes to Zayne. So, the very last thing to do before Sylus moves in, is tell Sylus that its happening. 

You wait until he calls on you again. Its the day after a heavy rain, and you nearly slip on the damp rock and the way up to his nest. The raven that accompanies him caws at you in aggravation when you slip again, and you’re clinging to the cliffside by the time you reach the top. 

Sylus never touches you. He avoids it as much as he can, but he grabs you the moment you’re close enough, and laughs at the way your knees tremble from the dangerous climb. You spy his cave, and it’s exactly as you feared. His nest is soaked, the little fire he’d built nothing but wet kindling, and you can see the way the rain poured in, pooling at the back. 

He notices you’ve come empty handed this time, and you tell him its because you have an offer for him. 

When you tell him to come back with you. That you have made room for him in the sanctuary he laughs at you the loudest yet. A fiend? Walking into your idyllic little cavern? The people will riot. They’ll flee, thinking it better to risk raiders than the maw of a dragon. 

It takes some convincing, and you have to hold his hand when you come down the mountain together. You can feel his hesitation, even if it doesn’t show on his face. He fears how the people will react when they see him. He cannot hide his horns, his tail, his claws, but you assure him he doesn’t need to. 

With you leading him, the people recognize the dragon. The stories you’ve spread have integrated themselves among the settlement that they people are overjoyed. They’re nervous, as Sylus is a tall and imposing figure, but they welcome him.

Zayne is not pleased when Sylus comes into his house, knocking his horns on the entryway. But you stand fast, saying that if he sends Sylus away, you will go with him. This only makes Zayne frown harder, and for a few days, he doesn’t speak to you. 

Things feel precarious, and winter sets in. Zayne feels distant, and Sylus is tense. Xavier is steadfast is his guard and his counsel. He offers you some advice that maybe, maybe they feel like you might be choosing one over the other. Declaring your intent to follow Sylus would have wounded Zayne, who values you highly.

You realize you’ve hurt Xavier too, when he tells you this. So you make efforts to make amends. You assure Xavier that you have no intention to leave the sanctuary, or him. Not for anything. 

Rafayel and Sylus form a tenuous friendship, The sea god is intrigued by the dragon, but Sylus, you learn, was not raised among his kin. He doesn’t know much about dragons beyond which he’s discovered himself. This intrigues Rafayel more and so they spend time comparing their…less human qualities. 

Making amends with Zayne is….tedious. It takes time for him to forgive you for threatening to leave, and for going against his command of ‘no dragons’. You dedicate more time to studying with him, learning the runes and getting up earlier than him to go through the rounds of reimplementing magic so he doesn’t have to. Even then, it’s a month before he speaks to you again with any length.

You keenly feel the loss of his companionship, and it frays you. So, one night you do something you haven’t in years. You silently enter his bedroom, and crawl into bed beside him. It’s cold, you mumble. And you and Zayne both know he’s a poor source of warmth. He doesn’t push you away, and holds you like he’s missed you. 

Winter is a time of huddling together. Forging bonds over fires and finding the way the pieces fit together. Sylus and Xavier have a competitive spirit with one another. They find themselves at odds. The five of you grow closer. And Zayne’s one room cottage becomes a proper house. With two floors, multiple rooms, and even little study filled with books. 

Their combined magic makes the sanctuary nearly impenetrable. No one, not even the strongest of sorcerers could detect the magic hiding the entrance in the forest. No one, not even the fiercest warrior, would dare tread upon a mountain circled by a dragon. And no one, not even the boldest of gods, would interfere upon the sea god’s new claim. 

The love between you is fragile. As fragile as the seedling sprouting in the spring. The winter passes by in a fever of feather-light affection and tentative kisses. You aren’t sure how to navigate this, and neither are they. It goes unspoken and unnamed, but there is a loyalty forged between the five of you that burns as hot as a dying star. Steadfast as steel, and hard as adamantium.

It’s summer again when the dream breaks. Nearly five years after Sylus had joined, he came rushing into the sanctuary after having patrolled the expanse of his domain. It startles the people he sprints by in his rush to reach your home. 

An army. He cries. An army approaches from the west with banners of white and silver. At least a thousand strong. They did not stop in their march when Sylus approached, and did not cow when he roared at them in warning. His draconic form was not frightening because they’d expected it. 

They’d been found. The sanctuary was in danger. Plans had been made for this occasion, but to actually have to use them? Your stomach turns with nausea as Zayne jumps into action. He and Xavier are the leaders in this, and they set to work immediately. 

They send scouts down through the gully, the people must be evacuated, and it’s the only way. A pair of their fastest runners are sent, but they return too soon. Barely a mile down, the gully hase caved in. There is no way out. 

When Rafayel goes to scout himself, he detects the remnants of magic. Stinking of destruction and sulfur. Someone caved it in on purpose, and made sure to do so with the rest of the tunnel too– there would be no digging out. 

The five of you try to avoid a panic in the people. They look to you and your group. With wide, fearful eyes they seek to find answers– for which you have few. 

Do you fight? Even with the strongest of warrior you have too few. Too many would be lost, and the sanctuary would be rubble. Fleeing is the only choice, but how? How to exapce with hundreds of people into the woods? They would be not only at the mercy of the elements, but the creatures that roam as well. 

An envoy arrives ahead of the army. A man clad in black armor with a silvery banner. His presence broaches the protective wards outside. There is much debate on who will meet him, and it’s eventually decided that Zayne and Xavier will. 

You, Rafayel, and Sylus stand at the very edge of the entrance out of sight. You hear the envoy hand Zayne a rolled parchment with demands. This settlement has not declared allegiance to any kingdom or god, and must do so to remain. 

Bend the knee to Astra, god of stars and stories. The envoy declares, Declare your allegiance to his service and his worship, and declare Astra the rightful ruler of Philos and the cosmos. Only then, will your settlement be spared. 

Zayne does not reply. The sound of parchment being unfolded could be heard and the terrible silence of it being read makes your heart pound. 

The scroll is crumpled and tossed to the grassy forest floor, Your message demands sacrifice. Payment for time unserved. Zayne’s voice is a deadly blade, and it’s a wonder it doesn’t kill the messenger. 

Astra demands your priestess. The one your people worship instead of him. The envoy informs, like he was going to go through this whole meeting without mentioning that tidbit of information. 

Zayne informs the messenger that no deal will be struck today, and to return to his master with a request for better terms. 

The three of you are caught eavesdropping when Zayne and Xavier return back to the shadows of the cavern, but no one speaks. 

Astra. One of the gods in this endless war. God of stories, he calls himself. Formless but with a handful of powerful priests as his agents to command his army. He seeks to control Philos and its kingdoms. To erect temples to his worship throughout the land– at least, that’s the story. 

He could just be a man. A man claiming godhood and enough people believed it to make it true. Rafayel is offended by the claim and says as much as you return home. 

You’re barely in the door before you say what they’re all fearing. That you’ll go. If it’s you that Astra’s demanding, then it’s what you have to do. 

Zayne’s sanity is on a knife’s edge, and he– along with the others– vehemently denies this. You won’t sacrifice yourself. They won’t allow it. 

What other choice is there? You say. The sanctuary. Everything you’ve built here. All the lives– the families that have been made here. The children born and raised in this safe haven. They are worth protecting. If your sacrifice keeps this place safe then it’s an easy bargain to make. 

Arguments ensue. Debates of morality and the worth of a single life. The option between giving allegiance to an evil god or attempting to flee is heavy. There isn’t a right answer, and there are too many wrong ones. A horrible game of rolling the dice and there’s no winners. Everyone is going to walk away from this table bloody and penniless if they don’t come up with something. 

Of course, it’s Zayne that comes up with an answer. After you’ve gone to bed, Zayne stays up through the night tearing through the tomes and texts he’s collected through the years. The book he stole from his birthplace– a city in service to Astra– that he’s refused to open all these years. 

He’ll use the god’s power against him. The god of stories will find his story rewritten. It’s a spell written only in theory, because in practice it cannot be done. Shouldn’t be done. It uses the user’s own life force to unravel the timeline they are in, to become nothing but an author to rewrite the word to their desire. A powerful, heinous spell. 

Sylus finds Zayne pouring over the texts and brings it to the attention of the others. While Zayne intended to do it alone, the others won’t let him. To truly unravel a thing like Astra, he will need more than his own mortality can provide. 

Sylus offers his own. Use his unnatural life. Use his soul. Undo this fate of almost love. Keep you safe. Keep the others safe. The sanctuary could burn for all he cares, but you….you have to live. 

Rafayel inserts himself saying that it would take the life of a god to kill another. That only Rafayel’s life force will be enough. Use him, and rewrite a world without this war entirely. Write a story where the world is peaceful and lovely. Where no one has to die. 

There is no agreement when it comes to these things. Whose life is worth losing? Who’s soul is worth sacrificing? It is an unanswerable question, and it is clever Xavier that finds an answer they can agree to.

Zayne must be the one to enact the spell. Only he, as a former agent of Astra can work the runes and weave the magic needed to do this dastardly thing. He puts you, Sylus, Rafayel, and Xavier into an unnatural sleep before he sets to work. He doesn’t say goodbye, none of you do– because if it works, then you’ll meet again. 

It is no simple trick, unweaving the tapestry of a universe. And more than a simple life is cost by the caster. The very threads of the universe they exist in are untied. They are stripped down to the barest of silk with the power of Zayne’s magic. 

Rewrite this story. Zayne sets the intention, and the runes he writes burn away the molecules of his flesh. Reality around him shifts, matter comes undone, Time stopped and rewound.

A new story is written. One without war. Without Philos and its greedy king. A timeline cleaned up of the filth this one was filled with. No Astra. No raiders. Not even a sanctuary, because it never had to be. The people that filled it are free to live lives full of choice and sunlight. No caverns and scrounging for food. 

A better life. A better story. 

Zayne signed his name and sealed his fate. Relinquishing the last of his memory to the demands of the spell. He was able to preserve the minds of those he loves, but he won’t remember any of it. In this new universe, he will be just as unaware as the rest of them. 

However, just before the supernova. Before the final page. Another line is written. Another hand writing in lines unintended by Zayne and the others. Another name was signed, and the story….changed. 

<- Previous Next ->

[aettuddae]

high garden academy — chapter 79.

⟢ synopsis: a new school year begins at the high garden academy boarding school, bringing with it new students, and among them, the new center of attention for the drama-thirsty student body: the hong sisters. eunchae and her mysterious and unsympathetic older sister, daein, who oddly seem uninterested in the secrets, legends, and gossip of their new school. winter, the institution's top student, and karina, the popular girl and promising pianist, never imagined they would end up so closely involved with hong daein.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

daein was good at sports, the deplorable state she was usually in had never been an obstacle to the girl's rampant competitive spirit, she might end up crawling and with barely any air, but she would always go for the win in any situation, and if she didn't get it, at least she wouldn't give up. daein also had a tendency to do things wrong, but she wouldn't allow it at this point.

she couldn't bear the thought of losing to kai.

with a powerful serve from below, jongin hit the ball that flew through the air over the net and hit daein who met it with a spike and returned it to the other side. she wasn't a big fan of volleyball, she knew the rules, but she had never been enthusiastic about it. at her old school they played field hockey and polo, at which she always excelled, but that day that ball wouldn't touch her side of the floor even if she had to injure all her fingers stopping it.

it was a particular volleyball dynamic mixed with dodgeball: they started in teams and if you dropped the ball, you were eliminated, and so on until one of the two teams had no more members. the scenario where there were six on each side was in the past and now only two figures were standing opposite to the net, daein on the blue team and jongin on the red team.

jongin received the ball with such force that he sent it outside the lines of the court, indicating that daein should serve this time. with her right hand, she threw it in the air, then jumped to catch it and hit it hard with her left sending it to where her opponent was, who caught it with his hands one on top of the other, bending down in a squat to prevent it from touching the ground and hitting it over the net.

kai's face bothered daein, he had the arrogance that rich kids used to have, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his lips were always tilted in a confident smile, in the way he was so sure he would win that confrontation just because it was him. karina used to correct her when she talked badly about the boy, according to her he was tender and charming, but daein didn't see it.

—tender and charming my ass. —she thought to herself as she hit the ball back into the air with the tips of her fingers with both hands open.

it didn't help her desire to win that they had a combined class with the freshmen and sophomores that day, which meant that karina was sitting on the sidelines watching everything. her eyes followed the white sphere intently even though she was crestfallen, pretending that she wasn't tense when she saw who was in the final of that so-called friendly match.

there was nothing friendly about it, daein wanted to smash jongin's face and ego.

she didn't quite understand why the boy with the big lips and brown eyes bothered her so much, in her head he was stupid and maybe he was in reality too, but that was none of her business,

she hated that it was karina's business, though.

she hit the ball again. angrily.

she didn't understand what she saw in the boy, but if she didn't like him so much she wouldn't be in the situation she was in with the blackhaired. maybe if karina didn't like that idiot, daein would have a lot fewer problems.

besides, what did she like about him? he was no big deal.

or maybe her anger that was driving her to hit the ball harder and harder was because minjeong was only a few people away from karina, sitting with her arms folded and pretending to be bored while she chatted disinterestedly with jennie who had been eliminated about five minutes ago. daein had learned that minjeong, as normal, calm and friendly as she was, was also the kind of girl who liked to tease when she was annoyed with her, which was just what she was doing now.

she pretended that she didn't care what daein did with her life because she was mad at her, but already more than once the older girl had caught her jumping in place because of the tension when it looked like she would lose to the brunette guy.

and daein was angry that things were like that, that she had to pretend to not care about what she did instead of cheering for her explicitly, proudly. daein hated that minjeong hated her, that she thought she was lying to her or playing with her feelings, that she wouldn't talk to her, she hated it. she missed minjeong, ever since they had started their innocent romance they had they had kept in touch almost all the time, and that was good for daein.

minjeong was good for her.

she whipped the damn ball to stop it from trying to land on her damn side of the net.

it bothered her that karina was with kai. she topped the sphere to the other side.

she hated having to pretend she was karina's girlfriend. she gave an open-handed slap back at it.

she couldn't stand that minjeong didn't want to listen or talk to her. jongin went outside, serving for daein.

she hated that minjeong was mad at her. she propelled the ball with her hands on top of each other and hit it angrily from below.

and that's not to mention that eunchae still hated her. she leaped into the air so high that she could have simply kicked kai's chest if she wanted to, but instead she took advantage of the height she had reached to block the ball from reaching her side and hold it in the contrary field with such power that when it landed in the boy's face, it knocked him to the ground.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" he shouted altered from the floor, his nose bleeding and the ball on the ground rolling into the distance.

she had won. she couldn't contain the grin that took over her mouth, a small show of victory that in daein's lack-of-expressiveness face was brutally obvious, so she lowered her head and turned on her heels trying to hide it, but she ended up facing the stands where the students were spectating it all, she raised her gaze a little and found a jimin who cocked her head at her with a reprimanding face, as if asking her if it was necessary to go to such an extent with the boy, but when the younger one saw the grimace of realization of the older one she couldn't help but laugh with her.

daein passed the ball to minjeong, yet still karina won the match.

yu aggressively tossed the ball towards the ground as she made her way slowly out of exhaustion towards where she was sitting earlier with her friends, coming to where daein was and pausing for a moment next to her.

"you can't be jealous of jongin and me and then pass the ball to her." she muttered in an annoyed tone, taking her arm between her fingers.

"i'm not jealous." the older girl quickly denied, her face disgusted at the thought of feeling that kind of thing for the girl.

"say that to jongin's nose." she rebutted, leaving the opposite with nothing more to say, then leaving a kiss on her cheek and walking away.

behind her came minjeong, her body slumped and barely moving after the game she just had against karina, her mouth slightly open trying to catch the air she had lost. she walked with her eyes focused on her seat where she wanted to throw herself so she wouldn't have to strain her legs anymore, passing by daein without giving her a single glance.

"minjeong-" hong tried to speak.

"of course she's not your girlfriend." she interrupted her without stopping walking "she only kisses you because you're so nice." she said sarcastically as she passed by.

(!)

— taglist [open] : @yoontoonwhs @hwm1hyun @jisooftme @gornoi @linnnsworld @xen248 @rinapomu @myouiiiiiiii @blaymine @chaewoni3 @aliceiwk @gfriendsapple @sewiouslyz @multiliker @cwpiqwon @pandafuriosa60 @gtfoiydlyj

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hi, if it's alright to ask, I wanna know exactly what solarpunk is. I have just come across this and have read some definitions about it, and I kinda get the gist of it, but I still don't fully understand it. I also want to know if it is just a literary thing, or if its an actual punk movement.

So sorry to bother, but I am pretty confused about it and don't know where else to ask

🌱 Hey there Sprout! I'm more then happy to answer dw!

The reason your finding multiple definitions is due to the fact that Solarpunk is as diverse as the values we hold. This is also a kinda a Chicken Or The Egg question.

Life inspires art, Art inspires life. Yk?

A little history lesson though, rising in massive popularity in early 2000s within the literary sphere along side Steampunk as the more hopeful, less gritty first notably showing up within Brazil.

But even as early at 2012 it had taken a life of its own beyond the Sci-fi stories it sprung up from. Websites, tumblrs, fashion, etc.. start going strong.

As of right now, Solarpunk is as baked into the real world as it is within Sci-fi.

Things like guerilla gardening, fiber arts, sticker bombing, mutual aid in the form of thing Libraries (tools, seeds, art commons, etc..) all start to be added into Solarpunk as a genre and as IRL activities for punks to do!

Though I find other social media to make it seem like it's a far off future (glaring at U Instagram...) it is very much alive and well amongst us.

Personally, I am more active in person as I believe in going from my household>neighborhood> city style model of change. But there is something for everyone.

There is even a ranking system now! Solarpunk dawn/noon/dusk to help us rate what is a Today activity/story vs a future beautifully imagined.

If you wanna learn more about specifics feel free to DM *I may be slow to reply due to parenting but I will I promise* I will give you my full arsenal of activities and media to watch/read!!

Hopefully this helps you out Sprout 🌱💕

[mleprae]

Alot of people ask me how I come up with the angel names (and how to pronounce them mostly), I've written a few posts about it but never here on tumblr, this might be a loooong one.

Angels have one universal language; Craeumlic, which evolved from Arcanus long ago, there is low craeumlic and high craeumlic, the former hardly being used as angels dialect tend to be very standard and formalised.

Craeumlic is very concerned with 'cycles' and cronological events, it's a strongly visual language and not very spoken, speakers of Craeumlic rely more on stimuli, body language and expressions but mostly written language. This isn't to say they don't use spoken language much, you know how some cultures are more likely to gesture while speaking? It's something to that, they tend to use gestures to finish their phrases, it's not quite signal language though, there is also some physical contact between participants, especially in same species. When I say they're focused on 'cycles' it means that their alphabet represent events more than sounds, an 'O' for example may mean a complete cycle of life, the sphere being one of the most stable shapes in the universe makes it mean peace, harmony, stability.

WHICH MEANS, other letters such as G, C and U can mean a broken letter 'O', a disruptment of the cycle, instability, destruction, etc. What each letter means is up to interpretation, but they all have some sort of conection to destiny, time or looping events. Some interpretations for example;

T - A crossroad, can mean incertainity, two-faced, indecise or someone who looks at two sides before judging. X - The death of the cycle itself, apocalypse, armageddon, culling. K - 'Many faced'

And of course there's G, C, U and Q, all who are some alteration of 'O', some can see them meaning the same thing while others interpret them as each meaning something different...

This letter, is the 'Word of power' which defines an angel main characteristic, it differs from the rest of the name and is separated by a 'Knife' (the apostrophe)

In this example, we have O'nekataniel, the 'O' here can mean; - Eternal - Infinite - Stable

'Ne' meaning one (as in, to refer to someone not the number) and Kataniel, meaning 'White', which means her name roughly translates to 'Eternal white one' or 'Great white one' or 'Infinite white one'

Here's some more names we can use as example! But also to mention another aspect, the proccess of condensation. Angel names aren't usually translated literally, though you can do that sometimes, they're mostly simplified, a literal translation of an Angel's name is called 'Roman name'

Starting with O'bloodus, since you already saw what the 'O' means, bloodus means 'hunger', 'abyss', or 'loneliness', her name would be 'Eternal hunger' or 'Eternal abyss' or 'Eternal loneliness', but in this case, we're taking her name literally. You can interpret her name differently, and this mostly requires a knowledge of Angel history unfortunately, but the 'O' next to bloodus can mean a strong desire, reaching and a cycle of tragedy, her name is more likely to translate to 'Yearning abyss' though if you were to say her name is 'Hunger hunger' you wouldn't be wrong either.

Q'wilqilth is a bit more complicated, the 'Q', an 'O' with a parallel line, often meaning a broken cycle, a barrier at the end, in many ways, you can translate it to 'There once was' or 'Broken', Wilqilth meaning 'Beauty' or 'Garden', his roman name would be 'There once was beauty' or 'There once was a garden', knowing a bit of angel history tells you his name is likely a reference to the Garden of Eden, his name is probably... well, 'Garden of Eden' or just 'Eden' ( Garden of Eden in craeumlic would roughly translate to 'Q'wilqilth-theo-socraphilia')

And K'yeboo-roo is.. there for a challenge! yeboo meaning 'Golden' and 'Roo' means claw, good luck translating that one.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed my lil language rant!

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 29

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

smau + written (2.0k words)

❥･• episode 29 — the garden is full of surprises

"Y/N," you hear Jungwon's voice, and you squint your eyes playfully as he approaches you from his group of friends.

It's funny, fascinating even, how despite Jake endlessly speculating about the possible questions on today's paper, Sunoo complaining about not having enough study time, and Sunghoon who came to school with a singular pencil declaring that he hadn't studied at all (even though everyone knows he probably pulled an all-nighter), Jungwon remains entirely focused on you.

It’s a peculiar thing, how the world around him seems to fade away when you’re near; his eyes and ears attuned to your every move.

He watches as you anxiously pick at your nails, a nervous habit that he took notice of over the past week. He observes how you close your eyes and silently recite the formulas that have been etched into your brain since the beginning of the school year, just in the slightest case you forget. And most importantly, he notices how your eyes light up when you confidently answer a question, one that either Chanelle or Yunjin has quizzed you on.

It's as though, in the midst of the chaotic pre-exam chatter, Jungwon has the unique ability to filter out the world, focusing solely on the sphere you occupy.

Just before you make your way into the exam room, he leans in and gently pats your head in a reassuring gesture. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, reminiscent of the night he walked you home and how that small gesture kept you awake the entire night. His eyes are determined, silently encouraging you and assuring you that, no matter what happens, he's there for you just as you are for him.

"Good luck, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice laced with a spring-like warmth despite the approaching winter chill.

With a renewed sense of determination, you stride into the exam room, your heart fortified by his presence and the whispered encouragement still echoing in your head. As you take your respective seats, you exchange one more glance with Jungwon—a glance that nearly convinced you nothing in this world could possibly go wrong, as long as you had him by your side.

Friday comes around rather quickly (contrary to your liking), and your final English Literature paper proves to be a tad more challenging than you had expected. Having been more proficient at it compared to other students, you chose to put it aside, focusing on other core subjects (and Jungwon). Before you knew it, you had completely neglected it by the time the exam rolled around.

Completing the paper is one thing; however, whether you're confident in your performance is a question to be pondered on another day. Or at least, that's what you attempt to tell yourself.  On the other hand, you're glad to see that your friends seem to have a huge weight lifted off their shoulders as they discuss activities they could do over the two-week break before the final term.

More pressing matters, this final literature paper also marks the conclusion of your and Jungwon’s daily study sessions that stretch into the wee hours of the night—the end of an excuse you used way too often to see him over the weekend.

"Now that mid-terms are over, I say we celebrate," Yunjin pipes up among your friends who are discussing the answers to the literature paper, the scarred look on Beomgyu’s face telling you everything you need to know about how it went for him. 

Yunjin's proposal sends a ripple of excitement through the group. "Celebrate? Sounds like a plan," Sunoo says, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkle with anticipation, mirroring the glimmer of excitement that's now contagious.

“We deserve it after all that studying," Chanelle adds, her tone reflecting a mix of relief and enthusiasm, and Judging by the collective nods, it's a sentiment that resonates with everyone.

As plans for the celebration unfold, Jungwon leans in, and with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he whispers, “I think I deserve a present for my hard work and dedication in the last month or so, what do you think?”

Your response comes in the form of a mock scoff. “Pulled a few all-nighters, and you think you’re all that, huh, Yang Jungwon?” He's about to offer a witty retort when Sunghoon interjects.

“I know, let’s all go to Jay’s. I’m one-hundred percent sure Mrs. Park would love to have us over,” Sunghoon suggests, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Yeah, she would, everyone but you.” Jay sends Sunghoon a playful glare, causing the latter to chuckle sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck. The room fills with laughter, and you just know the man is up to no good. One thing that these boys have reiterated over and over is to NOT let Sunghoon into your home, especially the kitchen. You didn’t question the advice, but knowing him, it’s probably best to heed it.

You can almost taste the excitement in the air, a sweet residue of relief, joy, and the sweet anticipation of post-exam celebrations. As the discussion continues, plans solidify. The prospect of visiting Jay’s house brings a collective sense of anticipation. But of course, it’s not going to happen without Jay sitting Sunghoon down, in the corner of the classroom, drilling the notion that his kitchen is most definitely not a kid's toy. 

When the whole lot of you poured into the living quarters of the Park family, the look on Mrs. Park’s face was almost comical. Yet, she just as quickly concedes to the pleas of her son, knowing he worked his ass off the past few weeks studying. And like mother, like son, Mrs. Park didn’t miss the chance to shoot a playful glare, or more like a warning, at Sunghoon.

The living room was transformed into a cosy haven, with blankets strewn across the floor, creating makeshift seating areas. The walls were adorned with Polaroid snapshots capturing moments from Jay’s high school journey—a testament to the bonds he had forged over the years. As the evening unfolds, you and your friends find yourselves immersed in a delightful mix of activities. 

Chanelle and Sunoo engage in a passionate debate over Twilight, their banter infusing the room with infectious energy. Beomgyu, perhaps the most spirited of the bunch, erupts in cheers or protests with every twist and turn in his game against Heeseung in League of Legends. Gyuvin and Riki, mischievous as ever, playfully assault you all by pouring ice down your shirts. Yunjin, Jake, Jay, and Ryujin immerse themselves in the hot wing challenge, courtesy of Mrs. Park's culinary prowess. Sunghoon remains mysteriously absent, leaving you and Jungwon on the porch, seeking refuge from the lively chaos that ensues behind the glass barrier.

Seated on a bench nestled amidst the bushes, you and Jungwon face the entrance leading back to the area where Gyuvin is presently in hot pursuit of Beomgyu, presumably over something stupid. The gentle flicker of the lanterns strung up along the trees cast a soft glow on your faces as you shared a moment of tranquillity. 

Neither you nor Jungwon initiates conversation, yet the silence is comfortable, reminiscent of the many study sessions you shared with the boy. The realisation dawns that with the reopening of the new term, there's no longer a reason for Jungwon to accompany you to the library or for you to attend his practices. The two of you will no longer be tied down by the documentary, returning your lives to the way they were over a month ago. The only difference being you no longer despise one another. Strangely, this revelation brings a touch of sadness, a sentiment you find surprising given that, not long ago, you'd have celebrated the prospect of no longer having to associate with him.

You share a silent laugh at the antics of your friends. As you reflect on the night, another thought hovers—soon, you'll part ways with these people as graduation approaches, and each will embark on their own set path. The bittersweet realisation lingers, casting a subtle shadow over the otherwise joyous celebration.

You're so caught up in your own overthinking that you don’t even realise Jungwon inching closer to you on the bench, closer than he was over a minute ago. He is apprehensive when he realises the expression on your face shifting into a mix of lethargy and melancholy. In a spontaneous move, he closes his eyes and lays his head on your shoulder, a silent attempt to divert your thoughts from whatever troubles you. Unsurprisingly, it works like a charm.

"What are you doing?" Your shoulder tenses as you try not to shift too much under his weight. Clearly, intimate skinship isn't your forte, evident by the awkwardness in your posture. Yunjin would probably find it amusing to see you in this state.

"I'm recharging. It's been a really long week, and I'm exhausted. Let's stay like this for a few more minutes," Jungwon says, his voice dropping an entire octave lower than usual. You don't protest, finding yourself enjoying the unexpected intimacy of the moment. You make the bold decision to rest your own head atop Jungwon’s, shifting around to find a comfortable spot to settle in. Unseen by you, a smile slowly creeps up on the boy's lips.

"I can't believe mid-terms are finally over," you remark, a genuine smile gracing your face. The scent of the blooming flowers in the garden envelops the air, adding a touch of sweetness to the moment. Jungwon nods against your shoulder, and you feel the soft bristles of his hair tickling your face. His gaze fixates on the lone firefly that somehow found its way into Jay’s garden, its gentle glow dancing in the night. 

"It feels like a weight has been lifted, doesn't it?" He says, almost absentmindedly. The soft murmur of laughter from your friends in the background creates a soundtrack to this serene evening.

You chuckle, your gaze falling onto the same firefly, “Not really, your head is actually pretty heavy." You hear him silently let out a 'tch' and you snicker.

Jungwon's expression softens, and he takes a moment before speaking. "You know, I was thinking about our late-night study sessions. I'll miss them." A playful glint enters your eyes. "Oh, are you going to miss me, or just me helping you with trigonometry?"

Jungwon laughs and you can feel the subtle vibration beneath you, the sound of his laughter carrying a warmth that echoes the sentiment between you. "Maybe a bit of both."

The gentle breeze carries a faint fragrance of jasmine, creating an atmosphere of quiet intimacy. The silence this time around is more anticipative than comfortable. There is an unspoken notion that hangs in the air, and neither of you is sure of how to approach it. That is until Jungwon does.

“It doesn’t have to end,” he starts as he lifts his head from your shoulder, hanging it low to avoid looking into your eyes.

“What do you mean?” 

“As in whatever we have, frankly the past month was one of the best months I’ve had in high school. You’re a really good friend, Y/N. And I don’t wish for us to go back to how we were before.” You notice the panicked language of his body, and you know Jungwon meant every single word he said. There's something about this boy that feels precious, so precious that it makes you want to hold onto every single thing, every single memory. And you already know that you, too, don’t want to lose this friendship, or whatever Jungwon calls it.

You rise from the bench and gracefully lower yourself to kneel in front of him, your eyes meeting his, which were avoiding yours just moments before. The vulnerability in his gaze reveals the fear of losing you, teardrops barely concealed behind his eyelashes. 

So, when he expresses his reluctance for anything to change, you confidently tell him, “I wouldn’t want anything else.” as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: i am so so so so sorry for this late chapter istg the writer’s block goes crazy 💀 as always i apologise for any typos or grammatical errors, i literally finished this at 2am in the morning 🤧

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taglist open! @uuzhanggggggg @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @hoey2k @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @beomsbeanie @sloobydooburmomjungwon @sweetkeiji @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life

*white = cannot tag

[cl0udam0rsea]

Y O U—

HOW THE HELL DID YOU MAKE AIDEN SO CHARMING- I’VE BEEN THINKING SO MUCH ABOUT THAT SILLY BOTANTIST RECENTLY AND EVERY DRAWING OF HIM MAKES ME FEEL GIDDY AND BLUSH ALOT AAAA- HES SO ADORBZ- PLEASE, GREAT CREATOR… I CRAVE MORE KNOWLEDGE ABOUT HIM!!!!!

You don’t have to if you’d like, I just happen to have a thing for him hehshehehe

ALSKALALSL

I love him too >< Im happy you like him too!!! :oD

Ill give his more miscellaneous details for the funsies!

Aiden is Chilean! Hes Trans and Bisexual :oD

Aiden loves his garden! He likes to talk to them and give them the best he can give!

That includes his upstairs garden, where he houses his poisonous and carnivorous plants (these are his absolute babies, but don't tell the others!)

And above all is his pitcher plant, Chamomile! They are about 6 to 7 feet tall but acts like an absolute baby to Aiden! They are VERY protective of him and finds it funny to pretend like shes gonna eat his guest, but he wont!

Aiden loves taking notes on his plants, how they digest, what they like to eat, everything he can learn! That goes for his neighbors too! He likes to be well versed and so he'll scribble notes on his neighbors so that he doesn't forget! Mathew calls it creepy, Aiden calls it being a good neighbor and friend!

He hardly talks outside his garden, most of the neighbors for a long while (lets say months even) didn't hear his voice. Howdy was the first to hear him talk and that was during his deliveries to the Bodega!

Howdy is really the first one Aiden gets close to before he talks to Wendy and the others! He supplies Howdy with his harvest as soon as they're ready!

As a funny I like to think Howdy chews on Aidens leafs when he's not paying attention or even funnier that Howdy plucked a leaf from him and thats how the neighborhood found out about his leaf growing back on top of his head!

Thats another thing!

If you pluck the leafs from Aidens hair, one will grow at the top of his head! Pluck that one, the other two come back ^^ pluck one side and the top one will still grow! Keep plucking and Aiden will trying running away!

Aiden is very strong, he carries those crates of fruits and vegetables by himself after all! Him and Eddie jokingly arm wrestle!

Mathew is only scared of making one neighbor mad and it's Aiden! Something about not wanting to be fertilizer to his freaky plants?

Aiden does not like sweets X, he likes fruits! And hell like a pastry if its subtle in sweetness. But sugary stuff are a no go! He likes savory and spicy in fact!

He also loves climbing and hiding around, hes not the fastest at running around but hes agile!

He does not know how to swim ><

He knows how to cook! His drawings are... not the best! Ha-ha!

The flowers in his hair react with him! When hes very happy, they bloom and sprout petals! When hes upset they lower! And when hes in a real bad mental spot, theyll wilt

This also slightly apply to his leafs! His leafs will wilt and when hes angry, I like to imagine they fray ><

Aiden works very hard, he hardly takes breaks! He can sleep standing up! Which is very funny when you happen to his garden and see him standing there motionless with a hose at night!

He likes to stare but only when no one is looking! You look at him and hes avoiding eye contact.

He has a hard time registering emotions within himself and others. But he tries real hard to be a good friend so he often airs in the side of caution. With that, he has a hard time saying no if you need his help, even if his hands are full ><

Oh! And he can speak spanish!

His favorite color is green and his favorite fruit are strawberries, pomegranate, and mangos!!

I like to represent him with either strawberries, or pomegranates in terms of fruit ><

I think thats all I have for now? Thats all that popped into my head sphere....

[weird-dere-writes]

OMEGAVERSE MYDIRA?!?!?!?! HELLOOOOOOO tell me more about that please. i love a modern au too this sounds amazing already

Post that inspired this ask~

Okay so when you first sent this ask a few days ago, I really had no lore whatsoever for it. Was just imagining modern au alpha Mydei n omega Sadira gettin' freaky ngl LMAO.

BUT, since that day I have been thinking and building and plotting >:3. So thank you for inspiring this!! 💋💋💋

This is still not a completely put together thing, but just me stringing together some ideas uwu <33333. Prepare for SO MUCH YAPPING. Some a/b/o related, some world building for the modern au part lol.

Warnings: mentions of death (mydei parental lore) and death in childbirth (sadira parental lore)

**Note: scent matrix = The base/bulk of one's scent. The undertones that are always there. Though scent matrices can fall into similar categories, everyone's is unique.

So first, let's talk about Mydei.

Secondary sex: Alpha (Α)

Scent matrix: the hearth - a broad range of warm and earthy scents including wood smoke, vanilla bean, stone, and evergreen trees

Secondary notes: pomegranate, honey, and bready scents

Interesting fact: In general, Mydei's scent tends to be very muted. But there's this weird thing about it, where once you get to know him it behaves differently. But like strictly with people he is familiar. (i.e. if you are a friend of his in a crowd of strangers, others will not pay much attention to his scent, but you alone will be able to notice this interesting quality amongst them.) For the people close to him, his scent doesn't become super strong/overbearing or anything, but moreso very permeating to the senses. Like you will smell him coming from a good ways away. But not in a way where the scent is so strong you know it's him from whatever distance away. It's almost like a second sight, where even if he's coming from behind, his scent meanders it's way to you in the air, slowly becoming more and more potent as he gets closer. Like you can almost tell just how close he's getting and how fast he's moving via his scent alone. You can tell if he starts taking a different direction or if he stops, etc.

Y'know that art of biker Mydei? Yeah, that's him in this AU.

He is the son of a rich CEO/chef (his father, Eurypon) that runs a chain of fine dining establishments. His mother, Gorgo, was simply a gardener that loved food. She grew fruits, veggies, herbs, you name it, and did a little down to earth catering on the side. She often challenged her husband in his views on food and cooking etc. It was something healthy and beautiful that Mydei saw when he was very young, that sprouted his love and interest for food.

When Mydei was a kid, his mother died of a sudden illness. That death changed his father for the worst. It ended up with Mydei being pigeonholed by his father into following in his footsteps in the restaurant industry. Eurypon would lose the whimsy, the warmth, and the experimentation in his relationship with cooking that ultimately made his stewarding of Mydei both ruthless and soulless. The classic tale of "you will succeed me and take over this business I've built, but simultaneously, everything you do or try, despite your talents and creativity, will never be good enough because it is not my cooking or to my standard."

Mydei does genuinely have a fondness and a gift for the cullinary arts, but as you can imagine, this years long contention between him and his dad makes him rather jaded to the "upper echelons" of cooking and all it entails. He craves something less formal, with more personality, that is just fun and delicious. So to seek that out for himself, he tries to distance himself from his father and that sphere of cooking as much as possible. Basically ghosts the restaurant location he works at, ditches his next formal evaluation with his father, cuts off all contact, and moves to another city with nothing but the fund his mom left him and his bike.

One of his father's restaurant locations does still happen to be in this city he moved to, unfortunately, but it is on the far opposite end from where he will be looking at staying. So he's not super worried about it.

He ends up choosing a luxury apartment building that has a few vacancies on the 10th floor. He had hoped to get the room right next to the elevator with a stunning view, but it was taken by another soon-to-be tenant an hour or so before he got there. So he would end up with one of the rooms all the way down the hall with a very comparably beautiful view.

Over the next few months he settles into his new home, gathering furnishings, figuring out places to do his shopping in the city, places to visit etc. He did go looking for jobs in the industry that would challenge him, but despite his skills and experience he finds nowhere will accept him. Even places that said they would be moving him forward in the process of employment. They suddenly have a change of heart. He has a feeling his father had probably gotten him blacklisted for the stunt he's pulled. But he keeps looking.

In the mean time, he kinda just exists. Some stuff that just starts as little things to do become hobbies, and those hobbies in turn kinda become lucrative for him in the end. To where he doesn't really need an employer anymore.

He starts a blog writing about food trucks he visits in the city. He talks about their food, their menu concepts, quality of the trucks themselves and their cooking setups, and recommends improvements in different areas regarding it all. It kinda stirs up a buzz in the city with that particular market, and people really come to value his opinion.

He also starts making little videos on what started as a throwaway account of him just cooking stuff. He never shows his face. Always has on the same (1) getup (2) for his videos. Just makes stuff and ends the video. He quickly finds though, that these videos get traction too. Separate from the attention he gets on his blog, as he does not insinuate any connection between the two online (as of yet). Gets him sponsors n such that help him fund his cost of living fr. He does desire to keep what's left of his mother's fund for him for something more meaningful, after all.

He often wonders if the person that managed to get the apartment he originally wanted had a similar hobby but was more inclined to do baking? He swore every time he passed by their door it smelled like apple pie.

Anyways about his BIKE. That thang is his BABY. A passion project outside of his time cooking that he put his heart and soul into modifying himself. It is his only means of transportation and he monitors it with the same precision he uses in cooking fr. He will be able to tell if the slightest thing is off about it or needs attention and will act accordingly.

He always parks in the same spot in the apartment garage, between a wall near the elevator and a dark gray minivan that, similarly, always parks in the same spot. When it's not there, he lowkey feels like a layer of protection is gone. He always hopes for it to return soon if it isn't there when he returns from somewhere.

Also also, despite all the cooking he does, he mostly eats out/keeps his fridge empty 🧍🏾‍♀️. The nature of his bike makes it so he can only really shop for a few days at a time at most, and he isn't a big fan of having groceries delivered to him. Wants to use his eyes to get the best quality of stuff he can, minimize the possibility of mistakes or nasty mishaps in transit on the part of the person delivering and all that.

Now for Sadira:

Secondary sex: Omega (Ω)

Scent matrix: seasonings - a broad range of herbs and spices including cinnamon, lavender, pepper, and mint

Secondary notes: apple, rose, and parchment

Interesting fact: Sadira never leaves her abode without a scent blocking band around her neck. Even if it is for but a few minutes to go downstairs and get her mail. Sometimes she even wears it in her own home when she has company over. For events where she needs to dress up a little more, she wears one with a little pearl on it. Really, she likes to keep it simple. Why she does this, you ask? A few reasons. One: she is just an omega girl in a scary world. Two: lowers chances of discrimination if people have to guess what her secondary sex is. The third and most substantial reason, is that it has always seemed people find her scent... offensive. People have crinkled their noses, glared at her, straight up asked her to leave certain areas, or even had genuine like pseudoallergic reactions to her scent before. It's not that the scent itself is bad, but that it's so complex and can often be a little much for others to process. It registers to them as this muddled amalgam of notes that clouds their senses in a rather unpleasant way. Very few people know what she smells like these days. No one in this new city she's moving to will know. It does makes her a little sad that such a major part of her existence as an omega is her biggest insecurity, but c'est la vie...

Sadira comes from a long line of titans of the book industry. Authors, publishers, editors, booksellers, researchers, etc. Her dad is one such publisher, with connections and reach far and wide. That being such, he is going everywhere, all the time, all across the country. He does reach out every once in a while, but ultimately remains rather distant. It's been that way since the death of her mother, who lost her life in childbirth when Sadira was younger. Her mother, Maelani, was a beloved children's storybook author/artist before she passed. Touched the hearts of many and taught many children valuable things through her works.

It has always inspired Sadira, but she doesn't know if that is what she's meant to do. She doesn't really know what she is meant to do. She does want to stay in the same field her parents have for generations, but wants to do something new, something special, something of her own. So she's moved from her home in which her father no longer resides and into this new city to explore herself. She'd managed to snag a position consulting different public libraries in the area before moving, so she was pretty set for income once she'd arrived.

This was a big city, and it was more convenient for her job that she don't live on the outskirts in a neighborhood somewhere. That, and a house is a rather big commitment for her to just be finding her bearings. So she figured a luxury apartment was the closest thing she could get that would fit for what she needed it for. She was able to find a nice building surrounded by some useful places with some open spots on it's 10th floor. Lucky her, her apartment was right by the elevator. Oh the sweet relief of being able to slip inside her abode as soon as she put the world behind her with the close of the elevator doors. She imagined that'd be so lovely after a long day. Could rip off her scent blocking band as soon as possible and just vibe.

She'd managed to claim a pretty good spot near the elevator for the garage too, thank goodness. Would be a little spooky to have to walk around that place at night. Though she supposed if she didn't have this spot and was a little too scared to leave her car, she could just put the seats down and sleep there. She's got spare pillows and blankets in there and everything stashed away. How, you ask? Or why? Well, her choice of vehicle happens to be a dark dray minivan with stowaway seats. People always asked why she would choose such a thing if she doesn't have kids or a big family to drive around. And the simple answer is that it's practical. Could carry a lot of people, could carry a lot of groceries, could transport large things like furniture, tools, tvs. It just made sense. And it definitely came in handy with her move. She found with her new job, she was transporting a lot of stuff for the libraries too, so life was made easy peasy with her ride!!

Though, the longer she lives there, she does wonder what it must feel like to kind of do the complete opposite? To simply want to carry yourself and not worry about extra factors? To truly feel the speed of what you ride in a different way? The clearly well cared for motorcycle always parked next to her, that always smelled faintly of pomegranate, made her wonder... She had never managed to see its rider.

Anyways, the longer she was in the city, the more she began to see a path that she found interesting that she could focus on in her work. She found that integrating more spheres of online niches in with physical libraries might be an interesting venture! Something that would maybe bring more people into libraries. Possibly in the future she could arrange events inviting different writers and creators with an online presence to these places?

One of the blogs she had been enjoying visiting often lately, was this one where someone provided commentary on their experiences with food trucks in the city. And it's CRAZY but lowkey silly because it feels like somehow this person is always reading her mind. She swears every time she goes to read a new entry about a different food truck, it JUST so happens to be one that's selling food she was craving recently. So obviously, she has to make a visit to them herself, and compare her experiences and thoughts to what she read from the blogger once she eats.

HEHE and I have even more ideas, but I do believe I will have to be saving them for future posts 🤭. To expand them more and connect them to these thoughts mmm. Besides, this post is plenty long enough LMAO. But I hope you enjoyed reading, lovely!! 🥰

[mcytadventevent]

@hn-undercover-9503 is creating for Day Twenty!

Prompt: Snowmen

Their piece is written, featuring various members of the Rats 2 SMP!

Credit Links:

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hn-undercover-9503

https://archiveofourown.org/users/hn_undercover/profile

(Piece below the cut!)

In the grand old City of Lights, there stands a grand old building on a busy street. Le Terriere, an aparthotel whose residents aim to experience all that the glorious city has to offer to them. People roam up and down the halls, stroll the streets, talking amongst themselves and taking in the sights around them. 

If you look past the stately exterior, though, you might begin to notice some things amiss. There are tiny holes in some of the windows, just small enough for a tiny creature to squeeze through. There are chunks taken from some of the large pillars and spandrels, the impressions of tiny teeth embedded into the walls. And hidden behind beds and bookcases and boxes and bathtubs, you might find little tunnels leading all throughout the building, much too small for a human to even think of traversing.

Every so often, if you're paying attention, you might catch a quick glimpse of the tiny inhabitants responsible as they run down the hallways, scale the walls, and climb up to the rafters. And if you happened to look into the expansive attic, you would see all the little spaces they've created for themselves. Homes and offices and galleries–whatever the tiny inhabitants could imagine and create, it is up there.

Today, however, if you looked into the attic, you would be sorely disappointed to find no little residents inside. Rather, you should turn to the ledge overlooking the garden. Here, you would find all twenty of them gathered up, each looking over the edge with varying degrees of intrigue. Some of them have yet to take their eyes off of what's happening below, while others are busy whispering among themselves or complaining about all the commotion.

“This is so boring!” One of them in particular cries. A little rat called Tubbo, smaller than most of them in a red plaid shirt, head thrown back mid-tantrum and repeatedly hitting a fist against the ledge.

“Shh, Tubrat!” Another of them calls back to him, a little white rat by the name of Shebly, her gaze locked on the events going on beneath them. “We’re trying to listen!”

“Can’t believe I’m about to agree with Tubrat, but what are we doing here?” Another demands, a rat with shaggy blond hair and an eyepatch over one eye called Martyn, standing just behind one of the rats in a red coat–the pirate captain, Ren–who is knelt over the ledge looking down.“It’s just a bunch of humans being weird. I see no reason for us to care about it.”

“Don’t you think it’s interesting, Martyn?” Asks the rat in the post hat, Water, poking her head over the side.

“Not one bit,”

“Guys, look! They're putting a carrot on it now.” The rat in the sweater–Sniff–comments, frowning. “What do you think it's for?”

“Well it's obviously a nose.” Says the rat in the red dress, called Korva. “Although if the humans think a carrot will help that thing smell, they must be rather dim.”

“Oh, but they’re so cute!” Shelby squeals, her tail swishing faster in her excitement. “They look just like the little humans!”

“They just look bloody creepy to me,” Martyn scoffs. “Why’ve they gone and put faces on them?”

“Maybe they’re supposed to keep away the bad things?” Water muses, still staring intently down into the courtyard where, currently, several of the younger humans and a few older ones are standing around. What’s captured the attention of this little mischief of rats is the center of the yard, where some of the children have come together to stack snow in large spheres and decorate it with various items they’d grabbed from throughout the house.

“Oh, like a scarecrow!” A rat with braided hair and no shirt, called Bekyamon, announces with a smile. “I know those!”

“I think those are usually put around plants, though, aren’t they?” Asks the rat with the white fur and colorful stains, the one called Scott. “And won’t these melt?”

“Maybe they’re to ward off the evil spirits!” The little purple rat called Ros gasps, garnering several odd looks from the rest of the group. “Wh-What?” She squeaks, seeming sheepish now. “Humans do that sort of thing all the time! In the fall, they cut up pumpkins and make them glow and it makes the evil spirits stay away! It’s true!”

“In that case, why don’t we do it too?” The rat in the dark hood, simply known as Ratman, suggests with a cheerful giggle. “If there’s evil spirits coming, we can’t have them getting up into the rattic. Besides, it’ll be fun!”

“Ooh, that sounds amazing!” Ros cheers, getting up immediately and practically bouncing on her heels. “How do we start, Ratman?”

“Hm, well…we need snow.”

Martyn rolls his eyes. “Never would have guessed that.”

“Alright alright, there’s no need to be fighting.” The rat with the ear piercing, called Owen, speaks up for the first time in a while, climbing down from the edge of the roof where he’d been perched before. “It sounds like it could be fun, but whoever doesn’t want to can sit out.”

“I want to help make the snow wards!” Ros throws her hand up immediately, still bouncing in place. “Who’s coming with us?”

“I believe creating these snow wards could be rather entertaining, not to mention extremely practical, Lady Ros!” Ren cries, standing up from his spot and moving to stand beside her and Ratman with a bright smile. Begrudgingly, his lieutenant follows, arms crossed and frowning but right beside him nonetheless.

“Anyone not want to help?” Owen asks, looking around at the group. Only a few of them elect to stay behind in the end, leaving the rest of them to decide how they are going to tackle their newfound quest.

“Okay, let’s figure out what we’re going to need.” The rat with the paintbrush–Eloise–says, her wife hanging over her shoulder to watch as she begins scribbling on a ripped piece of paper. “The wards are made of snow, and they used a bunch of different stuff to decorate them. Are we making ours that big?”

“That doesn’t seem very practical.” Owen says.

“Let’s make them our size, then!” Shelby says. “They’ll look just like us!”

“Right, so we need snow and the bits to decorate.”

“What can we use to decorate?” Ros questions. “Everything the humans use is too big…”

“I’ve got an idea.” Korva steps forward. “One of the women in the west wing keeps rolls of yarn. We can take some pieces of it to use as decorations.”

“There’s all those pebbles outside we can use for eyes!” Bekyamon shouts, raising her paws to cover over her own eyes with a big grin.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Bek!” Eloise praises, and the wide rat’s smile only grows brighter.

“I’m sure the humans will have something in the kitchen that could be used for a nose.” Captain Ren comments, humming to himself in thought.

“I’ll go with the captain, then.” Martyn says with a sigh. “Can’t have him going alone with how much he gets himself caught.”

“L-Lieutenant!”

“I want to go with Korva to get the yarn!” Ros cries, grabbing onto its arm.

“Then Eloise and I will head to the garden and start getting the pebbles!” Bek cries, clinging to her wife’s hand.

“And I’ll join you.” Ratman tells them, ignoring the irritated look Bek shoots his direction. “Gathering all those rocks is more than a two rat job, you know!”

“I’ll join the captain’s team, I guess.” The rat in the red hood, known as Apo, says with a heavy sigh. It’s the first time he’s spoken since the plans were made, and he doesn’t miss the annoyed scoff Martyn gives at his announcement. 

“I think I’ll go with Ros and Korva,” Scott says, standing up and moving to join the two of them.

“Oooh, me too!” Shelby volunteers.

“Why don’t the rest of us help with the snow?” Water asks, looking around at their little group.

“That’s a great idea, Water. Well? Shall we get going?”

“Yes!” Ren cries, pointing in the direction of the way down into the main house. “Let us go forth and forge our magical snow wards, rats! Onward!”

All the lights of the house are just turning off for the night when the group of four little rats turn the corner into the west wing of the building. Korva stands at the front, leading the group down the hallway and to one of the many doors. “I believe it's this one,” it whispers, placing a single paw on the door. “Seems like it's locked, though.”

“Has she gone to bed already?” Ros asks, trying to peek through the tiny gaps between the wall and the door.

“But it's so early!” Shelby cries, feeling around the door hinges. “Is there another way inside?”

“I don't believe–”

“Guys!” Scott suddenly shouts, and all four of them look up at the sound of incoming footsteps.

“Hide!” Scott squeaks, and they all scramble for a hiding spot as a human woman with long brown hair approaches the very door they'd been poking at. She produces a key and unlocks it, stepping in and miraculously leaving the door open behind her.

They run inside, unwilling to let the opportunity pass. Luckily for them, she stops to grab a pair of shoes from the floor and goes to leave again. And in her hurry, she fails to notice the little rat pressing against the door to keep it open. As soon as she's gone, the four of them breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“That was close!” Ros exclaims, smiling brightly. “But we're in now! What colors should we get?”

“Red, obviously.” Korva says, already climbing on top of the stately desk in the corner where a large basket filled with all different colors of yarn sits.

“I want purple!” Ros shouts, climbing after it. Scott and Shelby do the same, until all four of them are standing around the basket.

“We should bring every color!” Shelby suggests cheerfully. “That way everyone can pick their favorite!”

“I don't think we have enough hands for that, Shelby.” Scott says, pulling himself up to rummage in the basket alongside Korva.

“Fine, then I want yellow!”

“We'll grab as many as we can.” Korva promises as Scott withdraws his trusty knife and starts cutting away at different colors of yarn. Korva helps by handing the pieces down to Shelby and Ros, who toss yarn over their shoulders and into their packs to carry it all.

When they’ve grabbed as much as they all can carry, Korva and Scott climb down from the basket and start getting ready to leave the room to meet up with the rest of their friends in the garden. However, just as they’re about to hop down, a new noise makes all four of them freeze in place, eyes traveling to the doorway in unison. 

Crouched in the doorway is one of every rat’s worst nightmares–a cat as black as night, with glowing green eyes and pupils blown wide. It’s already looking right at them, a low rumbling the only warning seconds before it pounces at the table to attack.

“RUN!” Scott shouts as all four rats scatter in different directions. The cat yowls in anger, knocking the basket from the desk as it scrambles after the closest rat, which happens to be Shelby. She manages to duck under the swipe of the feline’s claws and grab onto the windowsill, scurrying her way all the way to the top.

While the cat remains distracted tracking her every move, Korva, Ros, and Scott gather up underneath the desk, breathing hard. “What do we do?” Korva whispers frantically, staring up at where Shelby is still desperately clinging onto the curtains.

“Shelby’s gonna be eaten!” Ros squeaks, fists bunching up in her dress.

“Calm down, we can get out of this!” Scott attempts to cajole their group, looking over at the cat rather than up at Shelby. “We’ve just got to outsmart it.”

“Outsmart it?” Korva demands, placing its hands on its hips with a huff. “It’s got Shelby cornered!”

“Just trust me, okay?” Scott tries, creeping out from under the desk. Both Ros and Korva share incredulous looks before reluctantly trailing behind him, keeping their heads low as Scott makes his way all the way to the door before turning around.

Shelby is watching them with wide eyes, scrabbling for hold on the top of the curtains. “Guys?!” She cries, and the cat yowls again, clawing at the bottom of the curtains and looking about ready to start climbing. “What are you doing?”

Scott raises a single paw and gives her a thumbs up before dashing around the other side of the door. Korva sputters in disbelief for a moment, rushing after him to berate him only to find that he’s stopped on the other side. He’s taken the strings of yarn tossed over his shoulder and is tying them together hastily. Spotting Korva, he holds out one side of the makeshift rope and shakes it frantically.

“Help me!” He whispers, and Korva takes the other end of the rope and starts tying its own strings onto it. When Scott deems it long enough, he grabs onto the edge of the door and scrambles up to the doorknob. He tosses one end of the string over it, and only then does Korva understand his plan.

“Help me tie it off!” Scott hisses, and Korva scrambles to assist. Meanwhile, Ros stands nervously in the doorway, glancing frantically between them and Shelby. 

“Ros, we need you to get her attention!” Korva says. “When we give the signal, she’s got to run!”

Ros nods, turning towards Shelby fully and jumping onto the end of the bed, waving her arms wildly to catch her attention. When Shelby finally notices her, she makes a series of exaggerated gestures involving the door and a lot of running. But Shelby understands her, nodding to show as much. 

Scott and Korva each grab on tight to their ends of the rope, and Ros raises up three little fingers for Shelby to see. As soon as she sees Scott nod, she begins counting.

“One…two…three!” She shrieks the final word, catching the attention of the cat again, who immediately trades its focus for the easier target. Ros squeaks and takes off towards the door with the cat right at her heels, giving Shelby the opportunity she needed to climb down and race after her.

“Go!” Korva shouts, the two of them pulling as hard as they can on their ends of the rope. The door creaks, swinging shut only a little bit at a time. They keep pulling, trying to get the door shut with enough time to let Ros and Shelby escape.

Ros gets there first, slipping between the crack in the door and throwing herself out the other side with a shout of relief. The cat yowls from inside the room, one paw swiping through the open crack. Korva and Scott strain to keep the door shut while Shelby takes a jump for the side of the door, slipping through right above the cat’s head. It continues to yowl and screech, tearing at the wall and doorway while Ros and Shelby both hurry to help their friends pull the door shut. After lots of heaving and pulling, they finally hear the door click shut. The cat keeps yelling from inside, clawing at the flooring underneath the door, but unable to reach the rats outside.

The four of them sit there for a while, catching their breaths and letting their racing hearts slow down. After some time, though, Ros releases her hold on her side of the rope and lets out a breathy laugh. “That was close!” She walks closer, carefully avoiding the swiping paws of the cat trapped inside. “Do you think we can still use these?” She asks, pointing up at the pieces of yarn tied to the doorknob.

“Absolutely!” Korva agrees with a smile, walking over to join her. “Let’s get to work untying these, and then we’ll head out to go meet the rest of our friends. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good to me.” Scott concurs, moving to the other side to join them. Shelby hops to her feet to join him, and together the four little rats begin working out the knots in their colorful rope. All the while, the pesky cat continues to yowl, mourning its chance at a tasty midnight snack.

Elsewhere in the house, three different rats are making their way down the main hallway towards the kitchen. All of them are intimately familiar with this space, having to run down on practically a daily basis to replenish their store of food stashed in the attic above the humans’ heads. At the front of the group stands Captain Jacques Levy La’rat–or Ren, as he is known by the other rats.

Moving along behind the captain is his trusty lieutenant, Martyn. The lieutenant seems especially irritated tonight, although his mood goes unnoticed by his captain. Slipping alongside of him is Apo, the newest addition to their ragtag group–and one that the lieutenant remains wary of. The three of them sneak silently down the corridor until they finally arrive at their destination–the kitchen.

“We have arrived, gentlemen!” Ren announces with a flourish, turning over his shoulder to grin at his companions. “Shall we spread out our efforts for finding noses for our glorious wards?”

“The ones the humans made were using…carrots?” Apo muses. “Should we do that, too?”

“Carrots are too big, genius.” Martyn snipes, earning himself a glare from Apo.

“Then we’ll use baby carrots, jerk!”

“Those are as tall as us!”

“Well then maybe–”

“Um, gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt, but–” The two of them cease their squabbling immediately and turn to face whatever has made Ren stop in his tracks. Their eyes follow all the way towards the back of the kitchen, to where a human stands–directly in the middle of the path towards the refrigerator and the pantry.

“How are we supposed to grab anything like this?” Apo complains in a whisper, crossing his arms with a huff.

“We’ll just have to maneuver around them!” Ren says, peeking around the corner behind the cabinet out at the human. They’re standing with their back turned towards the rats, humming under their breath.”

“It’s the middle of the night, what’s one of them doing in here this late anyway?” Martyn wonders, peering over his captain’s shoulders. “Is she…cutting something?”

“What’s that?”

“She’s got a knife!” Apo reaches to grab for their thumbtack, but Martyn grabs their wrist before they can draw it.

“Calm down, you idiot!” Martyn snaps, pushing him back. “Look at what she’s cutting!”

The other two pause, craning their necks to look as far as possible. The human is, sure enough, using a knife to cut something into a bowl. After a few moments, Ren lets out a small gasp.

“Why, Lieutenant, those are…carrots! And they’re so small!”

“Must be for a cake.” Apo mutters.

“Let’s take some!” Martyn cries, grinning maniacally. “We’ll grab us a handful, and that should be more than enough to make these wards.”

“But how are we supposed to do that when she’s right there?”

“I suppose we’ll just have to create a distraction, then!” Ren announces, turning around. “Lieutenant, take this!” He empties his satchel, which was only full of sticks and a couple extra potato chips, before thrusting it into the shorter rat’s paws. “Apo, my good sir, come with me!”

“Wh-What, why?”

“We are going to create a distraction, of course!” And before either one of them can protest his decision, the captain takes off running, headed straight for the cabinet where the human stands.

Martyn curses silently to himself, taking the opportunity to scurry up the side of the cabinet they’d been hiding behind and finding himself a sugar jar to hide behind instead. He peers out from the side, watching as his captain and crewmate race over the tiled floor until they’re only a few steps away from the human’s feet.

“What are you even planning on doing?!” Apo demands in a whisper-shout, trailing behind Ren’s much faster gait. “Captain!”

“You must simply trust my judgement, Apo sir!” Ren tells him, not so much as bothering to turn around.

They get to the end of the cabinet and pause, watching as the human continues their work. While Apo is distracted watching, Ren bumps his arm and points to a spot just next to them. Laying right there is a readied and primed mousetrap, with a fresh cube of cheese waiting on top.

Apo shakes his head immediately. “No, nope–no way! Not a chance, buddy! Not doing it!”

“It is for the greater good, Apo! And I will free you myself!”

“Then how about you do it?”

“W-Well, I would, but my joints are quite bothersome today–”

“Oh, gimme a break! If you want to go through with this crazy idea so bad, then you do it!”

Ren huffs indignantly, reaching a paw up to adjust his glasses. “I simply cannot allow such insubordination, Apo sir! As your captain, should you wish to remain a part of this crew, then–”

The captain is cut off by a sudden shout, and when they turn to look the human is looking directly at them. Immediately, both of them squeak and take off running. The human runs after them, shouting about filthy rats in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Martyn slips out from behind the sugar jar and dashes over the rest of the countertops to where the human has left her bowl of cut carrots unattended. As he’s busy filling up the satchel with as many of the tiny carrot shavings as he can, he hears two unearthly loud squeaks from down the hall, followed by a set of stomping footsteps coming back towards the kitchen.

With a sigh, the lieutenant pulls the bag shut and hops down from the counter, right before the human comes storming back into the kitchen with a huff. She grabs the carrot bowl from the counter and crosses over to the fridge, mumbling under her breath the whole way. While she’s distracted with cleaning up her mess, Martyn dashes his way out of the kitchen and back down the hall to free his captain and his crewmate from the cage they’ve inevitably found themselves locked in.

“All in a day’s work…”

Out in the garden, three little rats have taken their bags and are scurrying about the gravel-lined path searching for only the best among them to use. The wide rat with the pigtails grumbles under her breath as she picks through the rocks, tossing any that are too jagged or slightly too large. She keeps shooting glances over towards Ratman just to her left, who hums to himself while he sorts, either unaware of her irritation or uncaring.

“Bek! Bek, look what I've found!” From across the way, the third rat in their group comes running over. She's carrying in her paws a small flower, just the right size to sit in the flat of her palm. She stops in front of her wife with a smile. “It matches your hair, see?”

Despite her sour mood, Bek can't help but smile back at her. “Does it?”

“Yes, it's perfect! Let me–” She pauses, raising up on her toes to tuck the tiny flower into her braid before stepping back. “There, see? It looks wonderful!”

“Aw, El–”

“Hey guys!” She huffs, all of her irritation flooding back at once at the sound of Ratman’s exclamation. “Look at all these ones! Perfect for eyes, dontcha think?”

“Good work, Ratman!” Eloise calls back, walking over to examine them for herself. Bek begrudgingly follows along behind her.

“Help me bag ‘em up, then!” He sings, already crouched to get as many of them into his bag as he can.

“How about El and I get these and you check on the others, Ratman?” Bek suggests, hardly even bothering to disguise the agitation in her tone.

“Hm…nope! I'm good!” Ratman giggles, tail swaying back and forth as he collects. “They'll be fine–this is more fun!”

Bek huffs, certain by now that the other is only doing this just to get on her nerves. Eloise reaches over and pats her hand with a smile before moving to join him.

“How many of these do you think we're going to need?” Bek asks, bending down to fill her own bag.

“As much as we can grab! We'll find somewhere to use them!” Ratman says, which only serves to make her roll her eyes.

“It can't hurt to have some extra, Bek.” Eloise attempts to placate her. “We'll head over to the others when our bags are full.”

Bek huffs, still irritated as she wanders off to start filling her own bag. This isn't how she'd been expecting things to happen today–it had been her suggestion to come down here to gather up the pebbles, specifically to get a moment alone with Eloise. It's as though ever since they arrived, they've barely had more than a few minutes at a time to themselves. And if she didn't know any better, she might assume Ratman knew as much as and was intentionally trying to butt in on her plan.

It's as she is crouched down looking over a few more of the little pebbles that she hears a loud squeal. Her head shoots up just in time to see Eloise scramble away from the hedge bush she'd been crouched near, the contents of her bag scattered in the grass. “S-S-Spider!” She squeals again, turning tail and running to the other side of the path. “It's huge!”

Immediately, Bek drops her bag and rushes over to where she'd run from. “I've got it! I can handle it!” But before she can make a dive into the bushes, she feels Ratman grab onto her tail. She hisses, turning back around to slap his hand away.

“What do you think you're doing, huh?” She demands, resorting to shoving his shoulder when he continues to ignore it. He pokes his head into the bushes to look for himself. Bek does the same, blinking as her eyes adjust to the dark before she spots it. It definitely is huge, and it’s looking right at them. She squeaks, but Ratman isn't running, so neither will she.

“Fear not!” Ratman exclaims, drawing his dagger and lowering into a fighting stance. “These foul beasts don't hold a candle to the amazing Ratman!”

“It's gonna jump!” Eloise warns a split second before the spider lets out a nasty hiss and leaps straight for Ratman’s face.

He screeches, flailing wildly with the dagger as he scrambles backwards, nearly crashing into El. And as funny as Bek feels it would be watching the nosy little rat get tossed around by a giant spider, she also doesn't want to risk getting her wife in the crossfire.

“I'll save you, El!” She cries, launching herself between Ratman and the spider. Only for it to immediately switch its focus to her instead.

“Oh, no…”

“Guys! The hose!” Eloise shouts, but Bek is a little preoccupied diving for her life. She doesn't notice when El takes off running to the left, making a grab for the length of green plastic that's lying on the grass. “We can use the garden hose to scare it away!”

“Brilliant idea, Eloise!” Ratman praises before Bek has a chance to. “Wide rat, help me turn the water on!”

He's already making a run for the other side of the path, following the trail of thick green plastic back to the metal spout hidden on the side of the building. Bek follows him, leaping up to the handle on top.

Ratman grips it with both paws and heaves, straining to turn the old metal. Bek adds her own strength, and together they manage to get it just far enough for water to start flowing.

At the end of the hose, Eloise squeaks in alarm. Bek hurries to get down and join her, but by the time she does she's already managed to direct the spray of water back across at the spider, which lets out a hiss and retreats almost immediately.

Behind her, Ratman starts pushing the handle in the opposite direction, much easier to turn off than to turn on. Bek lets him handle that and instead runs over the grass until she can throw her arms around her wife. “Are you alright?!” She demands instantly, pulling back to look her over. The artist rat smiles, slightly dirty and wet, but fine.

“I'm good, Bek. And hey…that was incredible!”

Bek beams wide. “You really think so?”

“I do! That was great–thanks for saving us, Be–”

“Anytime!” Bek contains herself as Ratman comes back to join them, the water shut off now. “It's all a part of the job…of Ratman!”

Eloise giggles, turning a look over to Bek that she can't help but smile at too. The two of them link hands before reaching down to pick up the other two full bags of rocks. “Yes, thank you, Ratman.” Eloise deadpans. “Let's go find the others, shall we?”

Eventually, all three groups of rats make their way back to the center of the garden, where the humans had set up their special snow wards. The rest of the rats had been hard at work too, collecting snow into small stacked spheres, one for each little rat in the rattic.

And come morning, when the gardener comes out to care for their plants and the children come outside to play again, they will find twenty little figures built in the snow. Decorated with yarn of all different colors, little shavings of carrot, and pieces of gravel from the garden path. None of the humans will know quite what to make of them, but that's alright. Because the rats know, and that's good enough.

[rebornologist]

I'm back! Delivering what I promised, just a few thoughts. Enjoy xx

୨୧ ⁺˳₊ pomegranate tea; at what point did they know they loved their s/o? ✧ characters: Giotto, Daemon Spade warnings: mentions of Daemon's willingness to do anything for his s/o

♡ Giotto knew that he loved his s/o when he wanted to marry them. He’s not a traditional man  by any sense, but he was quite formal in courting them, and is traditional in this one aspect of his life—wanting to live the rest of his life deeply intertwined with his s/o, and maybe even have a family down the line.. not just the mafia kind.

Giotto seemed a bit stressed lately. He's overworked, as usual, and not particularly sunny, which was a bummer, because the spring wildflowers were in full bloom.

୨୧ ˳⁺✧

The radio plays quietly as the two of you drive out to your favorite picnic spot. Despite everything, he makes time for you. You appreciate every minute with him because of it. The silent is cut by the sweet sound of his voice.

“Hypothetically, when do you think is a good time to get married?”

You blink, wide eyes pausing your leisure activity of taking in the beautiful gardens you were currently being driven through.

"Par..don..?" You turn your head around to see your partner's stoic face still facing the road.

He chuckles lightly, "oh.. is it.. too early to ask? Even hypothetically-"

"No, no, it's not too early for us to be talking about this kind of thing," you insist, shifting fully in your seat to face him. "You aren't asking because you're going to propose to me on our picnic, right?"

He blinks, once, twice. You stifle a giggle at his blank expression. He's as readable as ever, he didn't plan on it, he didn't even think of it. He might steal that idea for the future, though.

♡ Daemon Spade knew that he loved his s/o when he felt completely under their spell—something not common for a man like him, it’s usually the other way around. He went to sleep every night with the realization gnawing at his insides, growing, practically festering, knowing that he would absolutely kill and die for them.

Your partner is not a peaceful sleeper, and often lies awake in the middle of the night next to you. He does not usually sleep well, but at least he doesn't get as many nightmares when he's with you. You've recently begin to wonder what your significant other is up to when you're asleep and he is awake. Even more when you are asleep and he is not even by your side.

୨୧ ˳⁺✧

"Daemon-"

"Yes, precious thing?" He answers without missing a beat. The two of you were getting ready for a dinner party. You enjoyed going out with him, meeting all types of people in every sphere of life and observing your enigmatic boyfriend in some pretty strange social situations.

You snort quietly, amused at his quick response.

"Have you ever killed for me?"

He pauses, expression unreadable. "Isn't the question usually, would you..." he turns to gaze curiously at his lover, who is currently shrugging a long coat on over their evening attire. You adjust their hair casually, looking into the large vanity mirror in front of you.

"I know the answer to that already. Whether you've done it yet, is the question," you make eye contact with him in the reflection. He feels an indescribable tightness in his chest.

"If you were aware of the former matter, I can guarantee.. you already know the latter," he sighs, wondering what magic string of fate brought him to such an otherworldly being.

I don't love DS at all, and I find 1st gen really difficult to write for, but I'm fascinated by the concept of Daemon Spade, or any of the immoral, downright nasty characters, with a partner that are also mysterious and morally grey. Not a common ship dynamic to fight angst and evil w/ more angst and evil.

[neyswxrld]

do you wanna build a snowman?

Wrecker x reader (gn)

summary: Building a snowman with Wrecker!

warnings: mostly fluff, a slight "misunderstanding", some kisses at the end

word count: ~930

advent calendar masterlist

a/n: this is the thirteenth fic for my advent calendar! for my favorite muscle man!

p.s. english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for misspellings! 

"You have never built a snowman?" you ask Wrecker, confused.

"Well, never saw that much snow before," he explains, scratching his neck.

With big eyes, you look him up and down before shaking your head and pulling Wrecker over to your wardrobe.

"We need to change that! Come on, you'll have to wear something warm, and then we can go outside," you tell him, grabbing another pair of pants to put on.

A few minutes later, you're wrapped in the most comfortable and warm clothes, standing in your garden.

"Look, it all starts with a small snowball. You form it, put it on the ground, and then you start rolling it. The snow from the ground sticks to the ball and it'll grow," you explain and show him how to do it right.

Wrecker nods once. He forms another small ball and starts to do what you said.

You roll and roll, watching the ball grow.

When you're satisfied with the size of your first ball, you look up to see how Wrecker is doing. Instead of one, he already had built two huge sections and is about to staple them.

You have absolutely no idea how he did it, but you're surely impressed by their size.

While your basement is so big that you wouldn't be able to lift it, it is barely big enough to be the head of Wrecker's snowman.

"Wow, Wrecker! How did you do that so fast?" you ask with big eyes, and walk over to him.

"I just did what you told me," he grins proudly and is about to make another ball when you stop him.

"Wait! I've got mine left. If you make another one that big, there wouldn't be enough for two snowmen," you tell him and run back to your ball, starting to move it over to him.

The thing is heavy, and with time, you even have problems rolling it.

Luckily, Wrecker comes to your help and starts to help you handle it, getting it closer to his creation.

"Can you lift it, Mesh'la?" he asks, already a mocking grin on his face. He exactly knows that he will be able to play your favorite muscle man, who has to come to your help in a few seconds.

But it's something you love him for, so you'll play along.

"Yeah, yeah. So funny," you roll your eyes, smiling, starting to grip the huge package of snow, trying to lift it up.

Nothing happens. Just like expected.

"Ahww, okay. Come on, big guy. Show me your muscles!" you laugh, stepping aside.

Wrecker nods happily and starts to lift the ball on top of the other two.

"It's huge!" you say, looking up at the snow figure that almost tops Wrecker in height.

"Thank you, Wrecker. Now we have to decorate it!" you say and start explaining to him what you would need.

After some time, you have found all the required things and start to make some stone buttons, while Wrecker puts arms made out of some sticks into the middle section.

Then you start to build a face, put a carrot in the highest snow sphere, and put a small plant pod on its head, so it looks like a little hat. Or, well, maybe it's more like Wrecker is following your instructions because you can't reach the head that well.

Satisfied, Wrecker and you both take a step back and look at your snowman together.

"It looks great!" you smile and lean into his side, enjoying his warmth.

"Yeah, think so, too," Wrecker mumbles, not as enthusiastically as you, and suddenly, you have a feeling that he didn't enjoy the whole process like you did.

Concerned, you turn around to him and look at his face, which has a troubled expression on it.

"Hey, what's up? Are you okay?" you ask, now seriously worried.

"I-... You wanted to build that snowman, but I was too fast and- and needed too much snow. And now you couldn't build your own snowman," Wrecker says, playing with his fingers uncertainly.

You look at him confused before realization hits you, and the corners of your lips start to rise automatically.

"Oh, Wrecker! Stop thinking like that. You wanted to build one, too. And you've never even built one before. Of course, you have priority," you start to explain, stepping in front of him and taking his hands into yours.

"Besides, it's just snow. It won't be the last time we can build a snowman. And on top of that, I think it was really lovely to build one with you together. I'd rather build a hundred of them together with you than a single one on my own," you smile at him, squeezing his hands a little tighter.

Wrecker nods slightly.

"Yeah, it really was fun to do that together," he says and starts to smile, too.

Happily, you come a little bit closer and stand on your toes, leaning into him.

Wrecker's grin grows wider when he sees what you're up to. He leans down a bit and meets you in the middle.

Your lips touch, and in an instant, small butterflies start to rise in your chest. Everything gets warm and you sigh a little bit before leaning in closer, putting your hands on his cold cheeks, and deepening the kiss.

Wrecker puts his strong arms around you and pulls you closer to his chest.

And while you're standing there, sharing sweet kisses, quiet whispers and shy smiles, you almost don't notice how the clouds thicken and the snow starts to fall again.

It definitely won't be the last snowman you'll build together.

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023

[fountainpenguin]

"Pretend to be sweet! Speak with a smile... Even if you're mad, play it cool for a while..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 15 - “Scald (Ren, Jimmy, Scar)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

While Impulse prowls in search of Bdubs, life goes on. Ren, Joel, Jimmy, Tango, and Cleo get along in their respective spheres. And Scar? ... Well, since Etho never showed up for Session 2, Scar's teamed with a bunch of other explorers to tackle a cave adventure. With a group that large, it's only a matter of time before hunters turn on quarries...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Renthedog - Chicken

Quarry: ZombieCleo

Hunter: Smajor1995

Allegiance: Unaffiliated

💚  💛  ❤️

"Hey." Is that a weird thing to say to a guy you haven't seen since his particles dissolved? He looks better now, standing with his hands in his hoodie pockets. In traditional Joel fashion, he got a new outfit for Session 2. The hoodie's sky blue. Puffy pastel letters spell out Glitch Survivor down the front, surrounded by four hearts, several azaleas, and little sparkles.

Skizzleman stole the traits of Tropical Fish

Actually, the whole thing looks glittery. It's childish and goofy and he looks snug and content, like Ren didn't catch him staring at his reflection for a little too long while they changed in the shower house. Ren has questions (which will go unanswered) regarding what went on between Joel's boss and the skin designers in the community mere days ago.

Not that I'm one to talk. I'm going all-in on the farmer's aesthetic this time around. It just sort of happened to him. Honestly? Can't complain, dude. The flannel shirt is comfy, the jeans aren't so bad, and the whole vibe fits his familiar suspenders pretty well. He's half worried he'll overheat, so he keeps rolling the sleeves back to his elbows.

If he were to put it into words, he's playing into that vibe of all the world in chaos while he serves smiles and escapism in his pretty little garden. In fact, Ren gets up from the muck, taking out a handkerchief to wipe dirt form his hands, and walks over to join Joel by the fence. He leans against it. Joel tilts his head. He's got little panda ears.

"'Hey' yourself, Ren. Ooh, look at you working hard in the chaos game."

"Thanks, man. You're looking good on green again; nice, nice- A+ material."

Skizzleman stole the traits of Salmon

"Yeah, Grian kicked me back up since, y'know… the whole 'creeper glitch' wasn't meant to happen and I did get my proper quarry kill." Joel points two thumbs at the bubbly text across his chest. "He'd better watch his ruddy little backend, though, because I intend to hit purple before I see yellow again. This order is tall, but so am I." His eyes roam behind Ren, wandering the other side of the fence. His fingers tap together inside his hoodie pocket. "Got quite a bit of wheat there, haven't you?"

"Wheat?" He keeps his tone light and friendly, but repeats the word 'wheat' to make it undeniable what he's referring to. "Take a bit if you like; leave something if you want. It's my community garden. This, my friend, is a safe space." He glances left and right, then leans forward, dipping his voice. He even lifts one hand to catch his words, though no one seems to be around eavesdropping. "Seems to me like you're less likely to get sniped off if your would-be murderer knows you'll respawn a few blocks away to have your revenge! And lay waste to them completely where they stand!"

Joel lifts both brows, curious but flat-mouthed. "Eeeh… Not the most exciting content for you, is it? I mean… You could achieve the same thing by lurking near your base. Or plopping your bed down anytime you anticipate a fight, if you wanna be some sort of freak… Also, I'm pretty sure you can't strike your hunter back if you drop from green life to yellow? You're still yellow, right? That's a passive color."

bigbst4tz2 stole the traits of Creeper Skizzleman stole the traits of Turtle

"… Look, it's cool, okay? Spawn's cool." Ren gestures sideways, flapping the handkerchief. "I'm in my peaceful arc right now. Spawn shall be the most beautiful place to rest one's head!"

Joel looks around, skeptic impatience dancing on his lips. Spawn isn't technically a peninsula, but it stands on a raised, flat bit of land overlooking the rushing river. The wind's gusty up here, bamboo and jungle trees swishing. Ren's got his hidden chickens and pigs.

Thus far, his play session consists mostly of bartering with Scott and Skizz for the right to breed their sheep. They helped him lead the sheep back in return for the right to take two chickens, and the haughty stare in Scott's gaze warned Ren that he wouldn't hesitate to kill every animal in his underground hidey-hole, regardless of what killing so many and swapping traits that many times in a row would do to his stomach. He needs to move them. The Sushi Boys know where they are right now and that's not a good strat.

GoodTimesWithScar stole the traits of Enderman

"Peaceful, yeah," Joel says. He leans against the fencepost, cupping his cheek in one hand. Well, one panda paw. "Say… Any chance I could pull you away from your work for a couple hours, mate? Promise it'll be worth your while."

"Oh?"

"You got shovels?" Joel summons his own to his hand with a flick of the wrist. It's stone, unimpressive, but he taps it against the edge of the fence like it's made of netherite. "I'm thinking we go about digging up sand. It won't be a monopoly, but Grian always makes a grab at it, and I think yoinking it before he tries will be the best strat."

"… Seems like he'll come after you once he realizes you've got it."

"Hope he does. I want him-" Joel makes a shhhhluck! sound, gliding the shovel scoop across his own throat. "You get me? Come on; we'll make a game of it."

Ren frowns, one ear twitching like he's got a flea. He tries not to glance at the place he hid his animals, though that means jerking his eyes back to Joel as they start to drift sideways. "Well… It sounds like you might be luring me away for a bit of thievery-"

"Oh, like you've got better plans today. You and your smelly little farm, your smelly little livestock…"

So he's already aware of them. He's not trying to fake me out. Ren lifts his hands. "All right; you've convinced me. Let's have ourselves a dig, my friend." For the sake of content creation. For the sake of getting out of his own head, too… Apart from his visit to Scott and Skizz, he's pretty much been gardening all day long. He's got an inventory full of bread and a back-up chest to boot.

And I know I'm not his quarry…

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[t-posing-ibuki]

Alright, so I've finally gotten around to playing Project: Eden's Garden Chapter 1 with some pals of mine.

We haven't started the first trial yet, so PLEASE no spoilers, but I'm gonna give my thoughts of everything up until that point.

I'll make a follow-up once I've fully completed it. There will still be spoilers below.

So first off, Eva. Her spritework is great; especially the sad/scared ones. I'm surprised at the twist of her talent, but I'm not ready to take it at face value just yet. I think there's something more waiting further down the road.

Second, I love all the little references. Cassidy's blackmail being a Jerma joke, the "Game Sphere" console, and Mark's song being a remix of a UDG track was a really nice touch.

On the topic of blackmail, Desmond's seems like it's gonna be important. If his room really is stocked with weapons, then things are gonna get hairy once he dies; everyone's gonna know, and everyone will have easy access to weapons.

Also the biggest spoiler so far: I KNEW IT! I called that Wolfgang was gonna die in chapter 1, and that's definitely come true. His blackmail is probably gonna be expanded upon in chapter 5 or 6... he gives big Rantaro energy now.

And now, my prediction for the killer. Diana kinda seems the most suspicious; I remember someone mentioned her using her makeup skills to hide an injury; and the evidence suggests she might have.

Also, I'm curious about that secret door in the pharmacy. I suspect Wolfgang has actually found the code and seen thought the other side, but it's entirely possible it's not related to the murder. Too soon for me to say.

[mycosmicsage]

Elements in the Signs: Air - Lesson Three

Welcome to lesson three in our element series- Elements in the Signs: Air

We are continuing our lessons the four building blocks of astrology:

Elements

House

Modalities

Energy

Air

The zodiac signs belonging to this triad are:

Gemini

Libra

Aquarius

Air is the element of the pursuit of the mind, communication, and socialization. These signs all work within the field of socialization, and more relationship focused pursuits. They help breath the life into humanity, and try to keep things on the fun and more playful side of life. These signs are very much into big picture and looking out for the future. Never really seeming that grounded in reality and oftentimes getting lost in ideals. This, as seen with Earth, and Fire, takes place in different levels of the societal sphere. So let's get into decoding the air sign ideals and what makes these up-in-the-air signs tick.

Gemini

Gemini the twins, the great communicator. This sign is the talker of the zodiac. Often being able to place themselves within any conversation, or group and breathe life into it. They breathe life into their speech, often coming forth and being able to speak about anything without worry holding them back.

A Gemini oftentimes shows their best traits when in Mercury. Mercury being the planet of communication. Gemini often takes this and runs with it. Unlike their partner sign in Mercury, Virgo, Gemini doesn't get lost in the mind and is able to express their ideas clearly.

However, they find their fall in Jupiter just like Virgo. Unlike Virgo though, they don't have an issue with dreaming and luck- it's that they go overboard with it. They can become incredibly flighty, and too idealistic in their thoughts.

Gemini is a flighty sign, breathing life into everything they touch. No matter where you find a Gemini placement, you will find that quality of excitement.

A Gemini is a warm spring wind, carrying the promises of summer within it. They are the energy in which life is made, bringing the grass beneath your feet to sprout and the flowers to bloom.

Libra

We come around Libra right as the first leaves begin to drop, and the autumnal equinox balances the day and night. Libra is who kicks off the fall, and as the sign of balance they oftentimes look at the one-on-one aspects of human interaction. They look for balance and ease of communication between interpersonal relationships.

A Libra finds its prosperity when in Venus, like Taurus, however instead of focusing on the material side of love- Libra focus' on the intangible. They are sweet whispered words, compromises, and the idea of love itself. They are soft, and easy- giving their heart and soul to the person they care about.

Exactly like Taurus, a Libra finds detriment in Mars. Mars' aggression is too much for a Libra. They are a sign about compromise and finding balance, where Mars wants them to take what they want for themselves. Unfortunately, Libra is very indecisive, and typically can't cooperate well within this planet.

The scales often search for a balance, and Libra is here to ensure that you have that in your life. Any placement will have you finding the middle of the road, and balancing life before any final calls.

Libra is the smell of perfume on your shirt, and the roses in a garden. They breathe the very qualities of romance into your life, and make everything seem more approachable. They are the feeling in your heart when you know you've made the right choice.

Aquarius

I've said it in many posts, but Aquarius is the alien of the zodiac. That's because they are obsessed with the very idea of humanity. The water bearer is all about innovation, and the betterment of people as a whole. They are revolutionists at heart, and will do whatever they can to ensure their ideas are communicated effectively.

Aquarius has two planetary rulers, Saturn and Uranus. In Saturn you will find an Aquarius who looks at the tradition, norms, and rules of society and figures out how they need to change. How to bring the rules to a new standing and bolster them. In Uranus you will find the revolutionist. The one who has seen the damage of humanity, and is constantly innovating to take unjust systems down.

This sign, and another reason why it's so alien, is that it finds it's hardest spot to be in the Sun. They never asked for the spotlight. They have a hard time finding their own passions and desires, and this can lead to internal struggle between what they want and what the people around them want. Never feeling quite right.

Aquarius is a sign about ideas, innovation, and thinking for oneself. While open to change, they aren't open to change themselves. So wherever they are found in a chart, you will find a sign about challenging the status quo.

Aquarius is a hurricane. They flood the world with their ideas, and bring about change. Whether you want them to- or not.

When You Can't Breathe

When an air sign can no longer think, it's taking away their oxygen of life. They seem flighty, detached, aloof, and cold. Which is difficult about signs that are all about humanity, and needing socialization. A Gemini may seem more and more two-faced, not the confidant you thought them to be. A Libra may come across as more manipulative to tip the scales their way. Aquarius becomes detached and withdrawn.

So they often need a bit of CPR, get the air coursing through their system again. Get the negative energy flushed out, and the ideas flowing once more. Reattach them back to the planet and the people that they care about.

Again, I don't know you- or your situations. So take my advice with caution, and what is safe and healthy for you to do.

What Can I Do?

The best diuretic for air, is movement. It's when air becomes stale that it becomes harder and harder for us to breathe. So, move. Leave town for the weekend, or day, or just a few hours- or just leave the house. Force yourself to go and speak with people. Go see a show, go to an art gallery, experience something new. Get MOVED. Movement of ideas, and movement of body is one of the most important things that an air sign can do. It helps to ignite the mind, and get your mind sparking again.

But air isn't just stale is it? It can also be way too harsh- moving too quickly, where you feel like you can't catch your breath. In moments like that- take a minute. Pause the projects, pause the mind. Go out and get a massage, a walk through a park, take a moment to be alone. Speak with yourself- a conversation that may have needed to happen awhile ago and reconnect with your roots. Air signs are just that, up in the air so long that the forget they walk on the ground. Maybe reach out to your favorite Earth or Water sign, and reconnect a bit. Emotionally or physically. It's never a bad idea to take a step back for a moment and re-evaluate.

Wrap-Up- Elements in the Signs: Air

Now to a close. Air signs are energy, the life of- well, life. They can be cold and stinging, or warm and comforting. Dry and arid, or hot and humid. They are our minds, our hearts, and what we live in everyday. They can be destructive, and they can create. There is so much duality within the air signs, and they are here to make sure that you get a look at all sides of a situation. Here to make sure you explore every topic. Encouraging you to face those terryfing thoughts head on. So remember to breathe deep, and take it just one day at a time.

Keep your eyes out for the last installment of Elements in the Signs: Water, coming within the next week or so.

Stay groovy, and I'll catch you on the flip,

Cosmic Sage

Check out my other internet spaces:

https://www.instagram.com/mycosmicsage

[fangirlinglikeabus]

[..]a garden,—once stocked with such hard plants and flowers as could best brook the soil and climate, and such trees and shrubs as could best endure the gardener’s torturing shears, and most readily assume the shapes he chose to give them,—now, having been left so many years untilled and untrimmed, abandoned to the weeds and the grass, to the frost and the wind, the rain and the drought, it presented a very singular appearance indeed. The close green walls of privet, that had bordered the principal walk, were two-thirds withered away, and the rest grown beyond all reasonable bounds; the old boxwood swan, that sat beside the scraper, had lost its neck and half its body: the castellated towers of laurel in the middle of the garden, the gigantic warrior that stood on one side of the gateway, and the lion that guarded the other, were sprouted into such fantastic shapes as resembled nothing either in heaven or earth, or in the waters under the earth; but, to my young imagination, they presented all of them a goblinish appearance, that harmonised well with the ghostly legions and dark traditions our old nurse had told us respecting the haunted hall and its departed occupants.

so i did a fair bit of reading on garden symbolism for an essay i wrote on the yellow wallpaper last year, and - with the caveat that this was about colonial america, not england - one of the things that did firmly crop up was the garden as a site of patriarchal control. and just looking at the word torturing i wonder how exactly we're meant to read an overrun garden in this context. like on the one hand it was stocked with hard plants, appropriate to the climate, and on the other it also contained soft plants that would submit to and be shaped easily by a man's guiding hand. i'm certain there's a deliberate tension there. also relevant, i think, is the way the name of the house seems to reflect this unruly garden: wildfell. anyway, there's a decent amount of really fascinating stuff going on with nature in this novel which imo shows that anne bronte did have a clear capital-r-romantic influence even if she's usually shunted into a different category from her sisters, and i think it's worth paying attention to.

this is incidentally what stevie davies has to say on it in her notes:

the topiary details add a unique twist to the theme of recidivism played out both by Wildfell Hall and Wuthering Heights (see S. Davies, Emily Brontë (Harvester Wheatsheaf, etc., 1988), pp.130-54). Nature, 'tortured' to an art which represents nature (the boxwood swan, the lion) is in process of reverting to nature. However, swan and lion belong with laurel towers and fabricated warrior as armorial tributes to dynasty - a dynasty which has died out, subverted by nature. For Emily Brontë's mystery, Anne Brontë substitutes grotesquerie, in a chaotic vision in which human aspirations are in process of recrudescence, paralleling the disintegration in the ethical sphere of the novel: but the author fails to develop these implications.

[oumaheroes]

WIP

Digging through my folders found me this, a WIP I'd started for Cake's birtday before spiralling off into other ones. I had vague notions for it, and although I don't have plans to continue anytime soon it deserves to have a spot in my archives just in case I lose it again

----------------------------

‘Sorry, were you-?’

‘No no, go ahead.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Oh no, I shouldn’t have been there anyway. Just waiting for someone.’

‘Ah.’ Gabriel slides up to the coffee machine and sticks out his hand to the man he just moved, ‘Gabriel. Hello, by the way.’

‘Arthur.’

Arthur’s hands are rough. His handshake is firm, a solid squeeze of Gabriel’s fingers and a single jerk down that feels familiar in its assuredness. He knew someone who shook like that before, he thinks. Someone long, long ago.

‘Lovely to meet you.’

‘Likewise.’

----------------------------

‘So, how did it go?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Your interview.’

‘Ah, that.’ Gabriel smiles and leans against the counter, ‘I’m surprised you remembered.’

Arthur shrugs dismissively but looks pleased, ‘Labouring, wasn’t it?’

‘Building, specifically.’ Gabriel looks out of the communal dining hall’s windows to the grassy flatlands beyond. Perfect location, perfect weather- there was a whole estate planned. Two men jog in the distance around the marked-out area, one thin one thick and both almost white blonde, and Gabriel watches the steady pump pump pump of their arms, ‘I wanted to try for site manager but I went for regular construction in the end.’

Arthur hesitates, ‘And?’

‘I got it. Start tomorrow.’

‘Congrats.’ Arthur does not do public displays of emotion. Gabriel has known him long enough to know this, and easily catches Arthur’s arm twitch as if to reach for him. It is over in a second and it stays safely where it is, crossed over his chest. ‘I said you had no reason to be nervous. They always need people.’

Gabriel laughs, ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘And you’re really good.’

‘Thanks, Art.’

‘What are you thanking me for? It’s true. Should have gone for the manager like I told you to.’

Gabriel snorts and looks down into his mug. Coffee still tastes the same, still wrong. ‘I don’t mind. All I really wanted has already happened.’

----------------------------

‘When did you decide to come to Earth?’ Gabriel’s hands are in the grass, knuckles curled down to the soil. It is hard and cool, the earth shaded by the tall, thick tree at his back, ‘Was it long?’

On his ladder, Arthur lets out a breath and looks up at the sky. ‘I don’t know. It feels like forever.’

 They are in his gardens, the ones he keeps just for fun. Outside of the crop fields and orchards which take up most of his time, as wide and long as they could go and lined with glittering greenhouses, Arthur is to be found here: small scrabbled patches of the beautifully useless. Green islands along the edges, filled with flowers that would poison, bushes that would not bear fruit. Things that were grown for the sake of it alone, plants which had no purpose other than to please. Done in his own time the colony leaders could not argue with him doing so.

Gabriel had a feeling that even if they did, Arthur wouldn’t listen.

‘We learnt about Earth at school.’ Arthur adds, returning to his work. He stretches his arms into the heart of the branches and continues to prune, ‘My planet isn’t all that far away in the grand scheme of the Diaspora. But I didn’t want to go truly until I was fifteen.’

‘What happened then?’

Arthur looks embarrassed. He touches the outdated e-tab he always keeps by his side, hung in a sling at his waist. ‘My home city sphere was quite large, enough so for a botanical garden. It was my first time seeing anything like this outside of a tab.’

‘Must have been nice.’

‘It was unlike anything I’d ever seen.’

Gabriel understands. Everyone on the colony does.

He shuts his eyes and breaths in deep and slow. The clouds and the leaves above create a sea of moving shadows across the inside of his eyelids, quick flashes of red like small fish. As the warm wind ruffles his hair, the start of his first ever real summer, Gabriel presses his back against the tree and lets his imagination go.