My name is Nyx. I use she/her pronouns and I'm 19. MDNI!! Love and Deepspace inspired me to create my first blog. I write for fun and try not to take this too seriously :D
Making friends on Tumblr has been an absolute delight! Anyone who consumes my work, reblogs, or leaves a comment is all seen and deeply appreciated by me. I love meeting new people so please never feel like a bother for interacting! Come say hi <3
Requests are closed for now. My body is rotting around me (; ^ω^)
Please enjoy your stay ✶⋆.˚ Caleb's masterlist
Please enjoy your stay ✶⋆.˚ Caleb's masterlist 2.0
Please enjoy your stay ✶⋆.˚ Sylus, Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier
Divider credit to the wonderful Ivy @/asiatic-apple
Caleb doesn't drink often. It isn't good for your health. And, more importantly, life has demanded complete control over himself and his surroundings.
For one reason or another...
Through his long lashes, Caleb watches. Watches your fussing around him. Fetching water, blankets, hangover pills he'll certainly need by morning. Nagging him for being so careless under your breath, believing him to already be asleep.
Cute.
His days of training as a pilot, maintaining the fleet, being a Colonel. Caleb has carried himself through each of these challenges. He didn't have another option.
None of it has tested his control, his restraint, half as much as you. His only family. His reason; the source of his strength. His greatest weakness; the cause of all his pain.
"Wait."
When you begin to pull away, finished fretting about, he finally reaches. He manages to capture your wrist, grip light enough to let you pull away if you truly wish to leave his side. But tight enough to let you know that he doesn't want you to.
"Stay with me tonight." His thumb brushes along your wrist, pressing against the pulse point expertly.
"Don't leave me alone like this."
You startle when his fingers, warmer than they should be, curl over your skin. His hand completely engulfs the whole of your wrist.
Glancing at him, tucked into his bed with a glass of water at his nightstand, flushed head-to-toe from the drinks, you already know it's a poor idea.
"I shouldn't stay with you when you're like this."
These days, there's no one around to stop you. No shadows lingering in the corners of the house, keeping you and Caleb apart. The audience in your head is totally imaginary.
That doesn't make it any less real.
"Why? Is it because you're afraid," his thumb presses firmer into the groove of your wrist, "of what I might do to you?"
What about what he's already doing to you? He must know when he's nestled so close to your pulse.
"Who else has seen you like this?"
He's being such an honest drunk. Was this yet another part of your Caleb that has been hidden from you?
"Like this?" Disheveled as he was, Caleb has looked like a sloppy puppy this whole night. Leaning his weight against you with messy hair and wet eyes. That side of him isn't necessarily a lie. But it isn't the whole of him.
"No one. This part of me... Is for my little sister's eyes alone."
I love thinking about Caleb in an alternate universe who's playing LADS and maining Mc/us
Because WE are walking around yearning for a guy we know will take care of us, keep us safe, and love us with everything he has
But Caleb in this alternate universe is sitting there like "Yeah I want someone who bullies me takes advantage of me and also never listens to anything I say ever"
In absolutely NO mood to write so please accept the sludge scraped off the root of my brain ♡
Sylus is cursed (not that he sees it that way) to only have daughters. Maybe when he took Luke and Kieran in he used up all his karmatic luck of having a son ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Anyways whenever you and your daughters get your period he is on top of everything. All of you get to laze around the house because OF COURSE your children never feel pressured to hide the fact they're menstruating from their father
Huddled up with heating pads over your stomachs, mugs filled with warm teas, freshly cut fruits... When you get your period Sylus ignores the 'Do not touch!' notes on your ice cream but I have a feeling he wouldn't be that bold with his kids
I saw this in a post here and I wanna do it for us lads peepz too 🥹 please feel free to join, absolutely no pressure! I just thought it was super cute.
Find your pantone color with meee (tw: first page only has a flashing gif)
Does it fit? Mine does mehehe
(I realize I’m not a very approachable person lmao)
Gentle tags: @blessdunrest @feralkuromi @zukini-01 @unknown-ends @raendarkfaerie @xcalicox and anybody who wants to join 🌸
Here’s my result😌 I’d say it’s pretty accurate even though these kind of things never take disability/chronic pain/neurodivergence into consideration
AND LOOK WHAT IT SAID WAS A GOOD MATCH FOR ME:
@mapsthewanderer
My MBTI is ENFP, and that type is known for collecting introverts and taking them under their wing hehehe
soft tags (look at me finally answering a tag summon and not just leaving it to rot in my drafts woooo) @seastar-bunny @love-caleb @ormymarius @viridescentelf @xieron-draxin @regisky @hachisenshi and anyone else would like to join in (i can’t remember everyone off the too of my head without the risk of accidentally abandoning this post in search of moots to tag - pls forgive me)
I needed some whimsy in my life so here's a little drabble in which Zayne is a winter sprite who falls for a springtime faerie. Inspired by the Spring and Flowers event and @mythblossoms who planted this idea into my head xx
The first time he saw you, the snow was melting. Clinging to the edges of the awakening soil, exhaling its final whisper of frost across roots and buds that were ready to bloom.
He was behind the trunk of a beech tree, half-veiled by the smattering of unfurling leaves as Winter took His final breath and Spring exhaled Her first. He wove some final threads of hoarfrost into the bark as his power dwindled with the change of the season.
There was nothing particularly noticeable about your form when he caught the flutter of your movement. Like any Spring faerie, the snow hissed where the warmth of your bare feet touched the earth, retreating in small rivulets of water. Undoing the work of his people with each step.
That is, until you caught the sun's eye too.
He could almost see the icy blues and greys of winter washing away as the rays painted your skin with deep pinks and reflective golds and soft greens.
And your movement. It was nothing like the frantic faerie buzz he'd previously caught glimpses of. Instead, you moved with a soft reverence, taking the time to listen to the soil's murmurings. Gently coaxing it back from slumber.
Zayne went still as the last of his magic threaded through the bark beneath him. The frost glimmered and faded almost instantly, surrendering to the sound of your voice with him as the air shifted and filled with the scent of damp earth and flower petals.
It was the first time in his existence that he breathed that scent in without fear.
That's when he should have vanished, retreated to the wind-scoured peaks where his people went each year. Winter Folk were not meant to see Spring Folk. It was an unspoken rule, reinforced by the divine and etched into the fractals of each snowflake.
But you were something bright. Something alive. Something warm. Everything he was not.
And you were staring back at him.
Your curious gaze caught his. And.. there was no trace of fear. Only curiosity. Perhaps you, too, weren’t meant to see him?
Still, neither of you looked away. And then, you smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time someone smiled at him without shivering.
“You’re still here.”
He didn’t answer at first. Couldn’t. His throat, used for the howling of winter winds and the hush of snowfall, tightened against the unfamiliar warmth. Then, with a voice hoarse from disuse, he rasped, “I shouldn’t be.”
You stepped forward, and the world softened. Flowers opened behind you in your wake. Wildflowers, shy and colourful, bloomed where your skirt brushed the ground. "Who are you?"
He hesitated. Names were sacred to Astra. Identities, even more so. But he unfurled his palm, where a dusting of ice flecks still danced, and let them rise into the space between you. The frost shimmered until it morphed into a shape. A jasmine bloom, delicate and symmetrical. It hovered for a moment, glowing faintly. Then , he let it drift into your palm.
You stared at it with a mixture of wonder and understanding.
“I see,” you said softly.
In the second it took for your hand to close and re-open, the jasmine was brought to life, a flower with veins and petals. It started floating again and, before he realized what was happening, tucked itself into his hair without re-freezing.
And that's when he felt it: the pull, the beckon of the mountains. Winter's thaw was complete.
“I have to go,” he said, backing away a step. Hoping each word conveyed the depth of his regret. Already, the frost in his veins began to retreat.
His time was over.
Your expression faltered slightly, but changed to determination just as quickly when you extended an open palm toward his clenched one.
“Will I see you again?” you asked.
He wanted to say yes. But a sprite cannot lie, and an elusive promise was cruel.
Zayne stared at your outstretched hand, fingers painted in morning light and the hues of things he could never hold without destroying them.
“I don't know," he said quietly. "When I fade, I don’t remember."
Your brow furrowed, eyes scanning his face as it continued to disappear before you. “I’ll remind you,” you said simply.
The words struck something deep in him, something buried in permafrost and forgotten lifetimes. He reached out then, cold fingers grazing your palm. You didn’t recoil at the shock of cold. Instead, your hand folded gently around his.
When Zayne disappeared into the ether of winter, the jasmine in his hair was still alive.
And so it begins.
Every year, he waits for the last frost, silent and watchful. Every year, you arrive before the thaw, humming to the soil.
He never asks why you come early. You never ask why he lingers.
Because you both know what you have isn't meant to exist.
He is cold and silence and endings. You are warmth and laughter and beginnings.
But in that sliver of time each year between the melt and the bloom, the changing of seasons hesitates.
Wdym I'm joining a group chat where everyone already knows each other and is mid-conversation and I have to grow the balls to interrupt to say hi (⊙_◎)
Or they're all 15-16 and I'm not comfortable talking to them
To be frank I don't even need a diagnosis to know I've got a maladaptive daydreaming disorder. I've been immersing myself in fiction to cope since I was ten and I'm struggling to break free of it now that I'm an adult
It's a big reason I was so concerned by the reaction people had to Caleb's 'my baby sister' line. I would be SO hypocritical to judge someone for depending their mental health on fiction but I can say better than most people there might be an underlying issue
I really want to apologize for not being very interactive. There are so many incredible people who go out of their way to talk to me and I'm incredibly aware of how bad I've been at reciprocating.
I don't think I know how to be human anymore. So many parts of who I used to be are gone. I don't know how to speak or interact like a normal person. It's so hard to create how I used to because I've forgotten how to dream.
I hate being selfish. You're all a thousand times better than me and I'm deeply sorry I haven't shown it. If I ever find myself again I promise you'll be the first to know.
