angel of forgotten memories

once we were lost, like we almost were in love

[elysian-chaos]

❝wait for me,

stray from the nightly shore.❞

aria . twenty . they/them . ‧₊˚ ⋅

angel . writer . artist . yearner . ‧₊˚ ⋅❀˖°⋆.˚

⚲ passed out in the yard of angels

i. the archive ii. the rules

iii. about the angel iv. caard

v. pinterest vi. tagging system

❝my only,

nameless forevermore.❞

All rights reserved © 2026 elysian-chaos. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

dividers by @uzmacchiato

[gojoest]

no part of a woman’s body should be left unkissed

[ollypuro]

Spells of Mistria: Caldarus' Blessing v0.16.5

001: Full Restore | 002: Summon Rain | 003: Growth | 004: Dragon's Breath

[elysian-chaos]

i need to talk to someone about a topic but i do not know who to talk to

[novasintheroom]

waffling (for you)

♡ Pairing - Caldarus x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.9k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: When? When did you fall in love? Possibly in moments like these.

Also posted on AO3.

There's no telling when it happened. Though, you try to pinpoint it, the old historian in you kicking and screaming for an answer.

There is, of course, the first time you saw him—really saw him, as a mortal rather than the great dragon Caldarus is. Was. Attraction was instant on your end. His eyes were like two pieces of gold shining in candlelight. But no, you'd chalk that more to awe and respect than The Moment.

Maybe it was when he compared your hands together. Warm and soft were not how you'd describe your torn and dirty hands. Yet he had.

Perhaps it happened when you were remodeling your home—asking Ryis and Landen to make the doorways taller and wider, thinking of horns and a tail otherwise knocking into them.

"You got a giant coming over?" Landen laughs, looking at the blueprints.

Ryis looks more skeptical. "That or you're moving your animals through the rooms...?"

There is only a pinch to your stomach as you say: "Just thinking about the future."

Or maybe it was in moments like this that eventually built up to a quiet 'in love:' Caldarus leaning on your head and back, you safely in his lap. Both of you trying and failing to stay awake while reading the (frankly dull) historical romance novella Balor dropped off at the tree stump.

There must be a few minutes when you trade snores with each other, but one loud snort has Caldarus jumping and you scrambling for your sword. When there's obviously no danger, you relax back in his hold. Caldarus is only too pleased to press you into him again. He mumbles something, burrowing his head into the crook of your neck. 

The fire is still bright in the temple's hearth, but there are stars in the windows now and a mostly risen moon. It's tempting to fall back asleep. Crawl into Caldarus' bed and let the world fall away until morning. His thumb rubs your hip. You think of your animals, the dumb things waiting for you to allow them back into their barns and coops, how displeased they'll be if you stay out too long. 

With a sigh, you reach up and pat your dragon's cheek. "Time to go to bed."

Caldarus gives a quiet rumble. His tail flicks, languid, cat-like, but his nose presses further into your neck and breathes. "Must we...?"

You hum a laugh. Ignoring the chills and sudden heat in your body, you roll off his lap and away from grasping hands. The book is closed and put on the nearby table. 

Turning, you take a moment to look at him. Bleary-eyed and still reaching, Caldarus huffs and stretches himself before slowly standing. He leans against the table. "The story," he murmurs, shaking his head and yawning. "I did not realize how...dreadfully boring one could be until now." Marigold eyes look at you and crinkle. "My leg 'fell asleep' also. And tingles. How strange."

Warmth and a fierce fondness surges. So much so you look away and ball a fist up, willing the thumping of your heart to relax as it pulses your palm. Even as he orients himself, you wonder: when? When did I fall in love? Your finger taps the book. You've never been before. You've had infatuations, crushes, a kiss or two here and there. But in love? Is this what it is? 

There were butterflies, at first. Crickets too, jumping all over your stomach when you kissed Caldarus nearly a year ago. But those have settled. Now, it is calm that comes when you see him, when he holds you and wraps his tail around your ankle. You've never felt so safe with someone. Ma and Pa would tell you different; love is for people who have nothing else to gain from another. Their wealth and power were enough to keep them together, to bear you, to send you off and pretend their marriage was happy either way. 

But this? Caldarus toes his way over and wraps you in another embrace. You wrap your arms around his waist and stand there, breathing sandalwood and smoke. This is a cool river on a hot day. Slipping under the covers of a freshly-made bed. An extra dollop of whipped cream on your waffle.

"Have you ever heard of waffles?" You mumble into his chest.

His cheek leans against your head. An ear flicks. "Tell me."

"They're like pancakes, but better. More syrup." You sigh. "That's what this feels like to me."

You know he's confused, but still, his laugh tickles your cheek and he presses a kiss to your forehead—something he learned from one of the other novellas. "You shall have to teach me how to make them, then, so I may understand."

Maybe tomorrow. Or Sunday. Or when he finally leaves the Deep Woods and moves into the farmhouse with you. 

Waffles galore for that day. Rugs too, for that matter, and now you're thinking of how many bolts of cloth you'll need to get for the craft room you're setting up for him.

But for now, you separate. Caldarus tucks your hair behind your ears. Cups your cheeks and leans down for a long, slow kiss. Then another. When he tries for a third, you laugh and push him away. "I have to go. The cows."

The tip of his tail taps the stone floor. He sighs and lets go. "Yes. I understand."

You go on your tiptoes and kiss his chin. Spinning and walking away before he can try anything else, you call over your shoulder, "I'll be by tomorrow."

And the tomorrow after, and the one after that, too. Mistmare gallops home under you, but all you can think of is the mines. The need to give Caldarus his power back. To make a home for him.

Because you're in love.

A/N: in honor of the 1.0 release drop tomorrow (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) i have decided to post THIS.

Do with it what ye will.

Posted: 4 August 2026

[meepnesscombat]

slop dump number like 7, hey thats funny! woah!

didnt finish the signis one

stilkin gijinkas aweeeee no seeker bc i dont LIKE HIM

[elysian-chaos]

felt this stabbing pain go through my side someone help me

[elysian-chaos]

silksong is the only game that can make the act of killing hollow me out

[elysian-chaos]

does anyone want to hear my fields of mistria thoughts

[elysian-chaos]

caldarus makes me soooo fucking giddy

[elysian-chaos]

you are very dear to me.

you are very dear to me as well ☺️

[elysian-chaos]

i saw this and it made me think of arisho

awe :(

[elysian-chaos]

does anyone want to hear my fields of mistria thoughts

[novasintheroom]

For Good Luck

♡ Pairing - Caldarus x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.7k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: You get into the habit of kissing Caldarus' statue on the nose.

Also posted on AO3.

It must take a surprising amount of courage to reach up and peck the statue of Caldarus on the snout. 

He feels curious confusion almost immediately. Stepping back from his form, a nervous smile creeps onto your lips. You wait.

“A kiss?” Comes his question.

You nod, shy teeth reaching out to bite your lower lip. “For good l-luck,” you stumble over your words. 

It has only been two weeks since Caldarus awoke, declaring himself the ancient guardian of Mistria and only that, as far as his memory goes. The spring air is cool on his stone, petals from flowering fruit trees wafting down, some into your hair. 

Caldarus pauses, then says, “I have no memory of ever receiving one before.” He muses a moment. Then, “How would a kiss bring good luck?”

Your shoulders bunch up then down. “A lot of travellers rub statues on their toes or bellies for good luck or prosperity. I figured a kiss on the nose would be a bit more…mm…respectful, since you’re alive.”

His hum reverberates in your mind. “I see.”

Suddenly, you wave a hand to him. “I’ll see you later,” and you trot away before he can say anything more.

Despite your obvious nerves, you do it again the next day.

“Another?” His curiosity is piqued. “Did the one yesterday not bring luck?”

“Actually, it did!” You dig in your pocket and bring out a small, uncut ruby. It glistens dully in the sunlight. You wipe a bit of fuzz from it. “Found this in the mines, maybe an hour before I came back! This will buy me a few bags of seeds, I’m sure.”

“Hmm. Good. I have noticed your crops are growing remarkably well. Adding more will bring you good fortune, I am sure.”

A grin. “Kissing a living dragon statue also seems to bring good fortune.” Again, you wave your hand at him, calling out a goodbye before going about your day.

A week passes like this: you, wading through the thick, overgrown grass surrounding his shrine in the morning and pressing your lips to his snout. It is the barest of warmth he feels when you do, like distant sunlight in a cave. And at the end of each day, you come back to report on what luck he brought you: an extra bass caught on the same hook, an overgrown berry bush discovered at the edge of your farm, more rubies and forage from the mines you can sell to bolster your ventures.

“I believe,” he says one day, weeks later and the press of your kiss fading from his snout, “that it is your own doings that give you luck.”

Your head tilts. “What makes you say that?”

Caldarus takes a moment to think. “You are a remarkably determined individual. You carry through what you put your mind to. It is…admirable. And so may have nothing to do with me whatsoever.”

Your hands slap your hips. “Caldarus, are you saying you don’t enjoy my kisses?”

Something in him coils, like a shy snake being uncovered from a rock. His voice sounds a bit lighter and quieter than normal when he says, “On the contrary.”

Your laughter is bells and bird song to his ears.

And so it goes for days and weeks and months. Your farm grows, as does your friendship with Caldarus. Each day brings your soft or chapped or worn or bruised lips to his snout, claiming “good luck.” And he offers what wisdom he can in return. 

Until one winter day, you call out to him. One cold day, he cannot offer simple wisdom, and you a simple smile, to break the ancient, forbidden chains that hold you down outside the Fire Seal. One stark day, he breaks his own chains, desperate, clawing, trying and succeeding in saving you from a folly no one could foresee.

And now, Caldarus sits in his new body, his robes tracing the breeze that blows through the temple grounds. He feels weak. Tired, all the time. These new limbs are much smaller and more frail than he anticipated. Worn. He is also ravenously hungry all the time - a problem you often remedy by bringing by one good meal a day. Here you come now, dismounting your horse at the steps of the temple grounds. Caldarus has the sweetly sour taste of bell berries on his tongue, and he watches you walk up the temple steps to the right, eyes scanning for him. He calls your name, and your smile dazzles him.

“I brought curry and rice today,” you announce, hefting your backpack round your side and sitting next to him on the bench. Caldarus feels the heat of your leg against his. It is comforting. He wants to nestle into it, sap up the warmth for himself. The spring days are still cool, not yet turning over into summer. He is distracted by the clay bowl you bring out. A tight knot of twine keeps the lid firmly on. You undo it and take the lid off.

He is assaulted by the pungent smell of butter and cumin and garlic and onions. Immediately, his stomach growls, far fiercer than any dragon could utter himself. Your smile is telling, and you hand him the bowl. He takes it gently. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

As he eats, you stretch your calves, tell him about your day so far. You don’t use the dragon statue as much as you probably could, preferring still to ride your mount into Mistria and start your day there. Caldarus suspects his old statue makes you a trite uncomfortable without him in it anymore, but he has yet to ask. 

There is also the matter of your broken habit.

Again, he isn’t sure what you do in the mornings. Perhaps you still kiss the snout of that old statue for good luck. But, lately, as Caldarus regains his wits and strength, he has felt…he isn’t sure. It is a new emotion that spins like broken yarn in his chest whenever he thinks of it. Do you still kiss the statue, even though the true Caldarus sits next to you every day? Do you still believe in the good luck it brings?

“ - and I tripped over two rocks today. Not in the mines, just on the way to the mill!” Your huffy sigh brings him out of his thoughts, and he looks up. You’re pouting, examining your skidded knee, patched over with a few bandages. There is the faint brown splotch of dried blood underneath. “You’d think I’d be better at walking, having done it so long,” you laugh.

Caldarus swallows his food and says, “I think you have done remarkably well for how young you are.”

Your brows raise, and he finds himself smiling. He isn’t sure why. “How ‘young’ I am? I’m not a toddler, Cal.”

He blinks. “To someone as old as I, you may as well be.”

You bark out a laugh. “Right, I forget you’re a grandpa.”

He’s learned this is meant to be a ‘joking jab’ between friends. He smiles more. “Perhaps you could bring me a carved cane tomorrow. It would suit my ‘grandfatherly’ age.”

Your elbow lifts to nudge him gently in the ribs. There is that warmth again. He scoots closer to you, tail subtly wrapping around the leg of the bench, just behind your feet. You look at him and lean on his shoulder. “Have you been keeping warm at night?”

“Warm enough,” he answers. 

“Hm. I’ll see if my sheep can give me some more wool and make another blanket for you.”

He’d appreciate that. This body is much, much cooler than his dragon self. He is often wracked by shivers on even warm spring days. He wonders how summer will fair. 

Looking back at you, he sees you have retreated into your own thoughts. Your eyes are distant, and there is a small frown on your lips. Briefly, he flits through what you’ve told him: one of your peach trees is blooming late leaves, Balor’s prices have gone up, a cow of yours hasn’t given milk in three days, and you tripped twice today. Worries crease your brow. He wants to reach out and smooth the crease out with his thumb.

He places the bowl of mostly-eaten curry to the side, and places a hand to your cheek. It is warm and smooth, and suddenly very twitchy under his fingers. You’re out of your thoughts immediately, looking at him. Alert, like a warrior should be. “What are you doing?” you ask.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose - before he can back out, before he can take offense (embarrassment?) to the bewildered look on your face. It is shaky, and he knows his lips are cold. He feels quick heat under the palm of his hand from your cheek. 

You blink. “What was that for?” Your voice is shaky, like you want to laugh.

Caldarus leans back, but keeps his hand at your skin. Then, he intones the same phrase you’ve said every morning for the past year: “For good luck,” his rumbly, deep voice murmurs.

Recognition sparks in your eyes. A true laugh bursts out, and you reach up to take his hand in yours. “I thought you didn’t…well, I don’t know!”

His own smile reaches his eyes. Didn’t remember? Didn’t like it? Both untrue. “It is a good tradition to start your day, is it not? And it seems you need more luck.”

“That I do,” you say, and peck his nose in return. Caldarus feels a fire rush to his own cheeks; a curious, new sensation. His tail curls meekly around his feet. Far less ‘grandfatherly’ and more ‘shy adolescent’ now.

Still, you chuckle and lay your head on his shoulder, looping your arm through his. Another new sensation: he’s heard you describe it as ‘butterflies in the stomach.’ An apt description, he decides. You both continue to sit there for a while yet, watching the new birds fly through the air, the blossoms of fruit trees tangling in both of your hair.

A/N: Just something to help me keep my writing muscles flexed while I take a small break from my bigger project(s) 💪💪

[toastella-art]

cant believe npc studios robbed me of this scene

[flowers-in-book]

I need her in a way that creates a new sin in the bible

[gyarujo]

gym rat gf! maki’s dragged you to the gym with her every single morning since you moved in together. it doesn’t matter if you’re dead tired, every morning starts the same way — with her nudging your shoulder, tugging the blankets off you, and pressing kisses against your cheek until you finally crack an eye open.

gym rat gf! maki lets you pick out all of her workout clothes. she’ll stand there while you hold up different sports bras and shorts, pretending she couldn’t care less about your opinion. but somehow, she always ends up wearing the set you said looked best on her.

gym rat gf! maki has somehow managed to turn you into part of her workout routine. she’ll pat the mat behind her for you to sit on while she stretches, drape your legs across her lap during her cooldown, or have you climb onto her back so she can knock out a set of push-ups, acting like you don’t weigh a thing.

gym rat gf! maki hovers just enough to make sure you’re working out safely without ever making you feel incapable. she adjusts your form with a hand on your waist, steadies the bar before you even realize you need help, wipes down your bench before you can reach for the towel. and if anyone stares a little too long while you’re figuring out a machine ? one look from her is enough to send them somewhere else.

gym rat gf! maki insists your recovery is just as important as the workout itself and gives you “massages” after every workout together. they’re always wayyy too deep, bordering on painful, and she’ll be digging into a knot in your shoulder while saying, “see ? this is why you need to stretch more,” completely unfazed by your pitiful whimpers.

gym rat gf! maki refuses to let you carry anything. groceries ? she’s already holding every single bag. heavy boxes ? moved before you even notice them. furniture ? don’t even think about touching it. the second you reach down to help, she gives you a look like you’ve personally insulted her. “i’ve got it,” she says, matter-of-fact, taking whatever’s in your hands before you can argue. at this point, you’re convinced the heaviest thing you’ve carried since you started dating is a gallon of milk.

gym rat gf! maki uses everything she knows about nutrition to cook for you. protein pancakes, high-protein pasta, healthy homemade snacks. she’ll never admit it outright, but she loves watching you enjoy something she made with her own two hands.

gym rat gf! maki’s cheat days are never really about the food — they’re always about you. she lets you drag her wherever you want, lets you steal fries off her plate even though you ordered your own, and caves instantly when you insist on sharing dessert. she swears she doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but she never turns down a bite if you’re the one offering it to her.

gym rat gf! maki gets really clingy after dragging you through a particularly brutal workout. curled up beside you in bed, she traces the muscles along your arms, your stomach, your thighs with absent-minded fingers, quietly pointing out how much stronger you’ve gotten.

gym rat gf! maki never has to tell you why she pushes herself so hard. she says it in the way she catches you before you stumble, the way she keeps a protective hand at the small of your back through crowded streets, the way she carries you upstairs after leg day without so much as breaking a sweat. every early morning, every aching muscle, every hour spent becoming stronger has never been for the sake of strength itself. it’s always been for you. so she can be the one you lean on, the one who keeps you safe, and the one who gets to love you for the rest of her life.

© GYARUJO 2026. please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites. do not feed to ai

[kaiiswrld]

groupchat texts w older bf toji & his son megumi