In the lair, deep in the mountain range above the red sea of flowers lies a beast. It’s heart cold and unforgiving. In the stars above it looks for the memories of what was once its. Until a familiar melody sounds it sleeps.
Love and deepspace dumpster
ancient | Hunter ID: 83001295866 (EU) | be warned my hand my slip minors beware (MDNI) | AO3 |main: @asgardiancoffemaker
I am Pumpkin/Coffee and this is my Love and Deepspace dumpster (´∀｀•)
This lair of a fiend will very slowly (think snail but worse) fill up with whatever my head spawns.
I am not sure who will be the most common LI that I will write, it’s a Russian roulette | I do main Sylus and Rafayel in game, but that never stopped anyone before|
Will it be cute? Will it be sad?
I have no clue ┐(´∀｀)┌ - apparently I am bound to fluff...
I have few things slowly brewing in my cauldron, but I am a very slow writer, and sometimes I think and the I forget (ㆆ ᴗ ㆆ) On top of overthinking and rewriting things a thousand times… Pls be patient with me…
That said this post I assume will as well serve as a masterlist of sorts. Find the list below: :)
Quiz time
☆Which LI would romance you, if you were an option from Love and Deepspace?
☆Who will be your Valentine’s date? — Love and Deepspace Edition
☆Double Trouble - Which Lads Threesome do you fit in?
Longer story
☆Dragon's Flame - Fantasy AU, dragon Sylus, might contain violence, not too descriptive, might change in the future
In the world where dragons roam the mountain ranges, merfolk rules over seas and the sky is full of tengu only one race would be foolish enough to try to dominate them all. What would happen with a dragon caught into those attempts?
A story about long forgotten goddess finding her way to Linkon. Despite eons of death, and multiple universes she had witnessed she always looked over one other got.
☾ Chapter 1
☾ Chapter 2
☾ Chapter 3
☾ Chapter 4 First choice by the readers - where the story will go? (open until 5th June 26)
☾ Chapter 5 (will post after poll ends)
☾ Chapter 6
☾ Chapter 7
☾ Chapter 8
☾ Chapter 9
☾ Chapter 10
Semi head canons/short drabble of all LIs (all are fluff/comfort unless stated otherwise)
☆No battery left - When everything seems a bit too much
☆Nightmares - Dreams can be harsh
☆What morning brings - Waking up was never sweeter
☆Taste of your lips - Taste of their kisses
☆When insomnia hits there is only one solution - Secret on how to make them fight insomnia
☆When sickness strikes - When you get sick some is there to take care of you - Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb, Zayne, Xavier
☆Small lovely gestures - love can be found in small things
☆.exe stopped working - something you said/done makes hiss brain re-boot/be careful what you wish for - Sylus,
☆One year down, forever to go - first anniversary - Rafayel, Xavier,
☆Falling for you - How they fell in love and how they asked you out
Drabble Challanges You can find all LIs in there:
Drabble Challenge May 2025
Flufftober 2025
Drabble Challenge November 2025
Fluffspring2026
Drabble Challenge May 2026
In gods we trust
How you met a god that would make his presence permanent in your life.
☆Sylus - The Slayer of Men, The Bringer of Wealth
☆Xavier - Keeper of Time, The Unwavering End
☆Caleb - Watcher of All Paths, Lord of Heart’s Flame
☆Zayne - The Warder of Evil, The Godly Healer
Random drabbles/solo works
☆In your arms - When bullet storm finds its mark | mention of death
☆ Different kind of greed - second part to Sylus.exe stopped working - requested by anon ♡
☆Written in the future | mention of death, angst
☆ See you later kitten | school au, mention of bullies, school dread, and Sy to the rescue :)
☆ See you later… Kitten | Little crows | school au 2 , mention of bullies, school dread, and Sy Luke and Kieran to the rescue :)
☆Hanahaki disease | a bit of imagine, what if you were immune, but someone else was not, it is angsty, sad.
☆Second part of hanahaki - and more angst with the same setting.
☆An acquired taste | a bit suggestive I think, but not too badly (therefore not under the MDNI fully), vampire vibes, blood mentioned. ☆Tumbleweed-filled brain - we all need a break when writing is just a bit too hard. A reminder to slow down.
☆ Under the steam - Sylus adores every little habit of yours
☆Tragic Comedy - He trusted you, put his life in your hands. And what have you done? | Someone is dying - mention of death
☆Waiting for you / but on the other side - He found his love, his whole purpose, but finding and having are two different things.
☆ Finding a way to you - His love is still on the other side of the screen. But Rafayel is but a patient when he needs to.
☆ Moving with you - What moving in with Rafayel feels like
☆ Under the ice he waits - A trip for the holiday season should be relaxing and rejuvenating. Right? (horror story)
☆ Traveling together - On the way back home, Raf looses sight of you on the airport.
☆ Even stars cannot keep us apart - When the illusion of what is real and what is not us shattered, he wishes nothing more than to find a way to you.
☆ Puppy's Guide to Witch's Heart - A part of FoldedWishes2026 Caleb's event :). He didn’t have a 5-step guide on how to make her his — but if he would… he wouldn’t share it anyway.
☆ Packing Frenzy - everyone suffers from a little of travel panic, right?
☆ Crowfish Imagines - Magic academy and dragon riders
☆Warmth of a home - Fantasy AU vibe, Xavier comes back to you after a mission, a king of elves and a human / smut
☆Sleeping Beauty - Caleb needs only one thing to live, things change when an escape attempt happens and he looses it. / some warnings: rape/non-con / necrophilia / violence / character death /
Brewing slowly:
City of a Dragon ( few chapters maybe slow cooking by hand - don’t judge)
I have checked the drabbles that I did over May, and I feel I can continue few of them in a shorter/longer stories (or at least try my best to do so - live might get hectic)
So from all of those, I have selected few I want to do for now, but might need your help to choose which one to start with.
So here is a poll with the ones I selected. Please note there is a Xavi in there, I am not the strongest Xavi writer, but I will try my best, because the concept is too cute/scary to pass lolol (I tempted myself)
Please look at them before voting yea? :)
Caleb = Day 24 - Guard
Xavier = Day 23 - Meet or Day 21 - Friend
Rafayel = Day 30 - Rival
Sylus = Day 31 - Dragon or Day 20 - Paper
I am sorry but as much as I would love to continue Zayne's office au, he is as elusive as Xavier when it comes to me writing him, to the point I wouldn't be happy with it. (maybe later or with a sweet bribery)
I am counting days before I am going on my short bday weekend trip to Berlin :3 But before that, an in between Erased and thinking what to write next - a cute small thing with fishie! <3
“Rafayel…” you squirmed one more time, letting a heavy sigh out before admitting defeat. You couldn’t really do much more than accept your faith and simply roll your eyes as your barnacle of a boyfriend clung to you with his arm around your waist.
“Nu-uh, cutie. I am not making the same mistake again” he pouted, fingers flexing on the side of your hip, squeezing the love handle a bit too much to be just an adjustment.
“It won’t happen again, c’mon, Raf. It was just a second” you wiggled your hip, adjusting the grip on your wheeled travel pack to your side — a fish charm with a bell jingling with every bump in the airport’s floor.
You didn’t know if Rafayel was just extremely clingy today, or was it because of the last few weeks of intense travel — jumping from place to place, long hikes, even longer hours strolling around foreign towns and galleries and what felt like days spent on the road in a rental car.
He was fine this morning, teasing you as usual, making sure all your souvenirs are secured and packed, sea shells in small boxes, bottles of sand packed in socks (on your request which made Rafayel laugh full heartedly), postcards, magnets, albums of printed photographs and local art. You even had some time to get some food, so it wasn’t that he was hungry…
“For a second? I thought someone kidnapped you! Took you and sold you off! I was having a full blown monologue here thinking you were right by me!" he exclaimed, swaying dramatically, his voice telling you everything without the need to gesticulate as both of his hands were occupied.
“There was a photobook…” you pouted, trying to explain yourself, matching his look and making you both look like two pufferfishes clinging to each other by a thread of seaweed.
“Over a photobook…. Just say you hate me cutie. Abandon me for a piece of paper. I don’t know what’s worse, the thought that you THINK we didn’t take enough pictures, or that you think some random photographs are better.”
Your cheeks got warm thinking of the many memory cards filled with memories captured by his camera on this trip. Maybe it was just the holiday fever getting to you, the need to look at things that you could get to hold onto the moment a bit longer.
“I will make our own photobook once we are home, you don’t need another one” he squeezed your hip to get your attention and leaned in, expectation in his eyes. A sly fishie wanting a deposit payment — a two kiss per page you could bet — for his hard work at making a book worth for any publishing house. You shook your head ready to pay the high price for mister Rafayel’s latest artistic creation…
Zayne x NonMc reader where Zayne’s back and neck are killing him after so many surgeries without rest. On one of Zayne’s rare day off’s, you have a stay at home date at his place, but you notice how he keeps stretching and cracking his back. When you ask him what’s wrong and he says it’s, ‘just a little back pain,’ you offer him to give him a massage.
Although a little hesitant at first, he eventually caves and accepts your offer. You get your lotion and essential oils and make him take off his shirt, laying on his stomach on his bed. As you straddle his lower back and begin to massage the knots out of his spine and neck, Zayne lets out sounds you didn’t even know he was capable of.
Meanwhile outside the door…
Caleb and Mc’s faces are filled with mortification as they cover their mouths with their hands.
“Harder…please…”
“Harder? Are you sure you can take it?”
“Yes, so just- hngh! Just like ah-that. Don’t stop.”
Caleb turns the door handle as he yanks the door open aggressively. “Alright, what the hell is going on in here?! Is Zayne getting-”
The both of you turn your heads at the same time.
“Geez, ever heard of knocking?” You tut as you continue to rub Zayne’s back.
“What are the two of you doing here?” His voice holds a bit of annoyance at the sudden intrusion.
“Uhhh…” Mc begins, “we were just-”
Zayne doesn’t let her finish. “It seems I not only need to change the passcode to my door, but get a ‘do not disturb’ sign to put on the handle as well. Since the both of you clearly don’t know what personal space means.” He scolds, but since you’re straddling his lower back, only you can see the way his ears have turned the same shade of pink as the macarons the two of you ate earlier after lunch.
You smile fondly as you massage a particular spot on his back, Zayne groaning as you continue to knead the knot out of his spine. “I think we’d appreciate it if you finish whatever business you came here for, if you came here for anything at all. We would like a little more privacy next time.
Caleb and Mc leave with their tails between their legs, both embarrassed and ashamed for assuming what wasn’t happening.
But hey, if you heard the way he was groaning and moaning, you would probably think the same too.
Lol I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, I just had to write it.😂
Here's a completely unoriginal idea I've had the other day:
Zayne with a writer gf that's always asking him all about different types of injuries for the action/fighting scenes she writes
-🍮
"Are shock induced heart attacks a real thing?"
Zayne pauses his stirring of dinner, glancing over at you and your open laptop. You're waiting expectantly for the answer, which he promptly gives.
"Yes. In fact, an emotional or physical shock can even lead to broken heart syndrome. It's when a sudden surge of stress hormones essentially stuns the heart, weakening the main pumping chamber and causing chest pain and shortness of breath. Is that a sufficient answer?" He's gone back to cooking as you type up notes at a lightening speed.
"Uh huh. That's great. Now...what's the difference between a sprained ankle and a twisted ankle? She needs to be able to walk on it."
"They're the same injury. A twisted ankle just refers to the motion the ankle makes. The sprain is the specific injury. You should use that. It's fine to walk on, provided its' mild."
You nod along, still typing and having not glanced up once, even as he sets a plate next to you.
"One last thing...what's the best way to murder someone without leaving any evidence?"
"...I'm not answering that till you eat your dinner."
This is the first one that has choices, so pick your choice and we will see where we go :D Poll at the end!
Enjoy a story of goddess falling for someone who is out of reach until their paths cross again. All she ever wanted is to help and defy the puppeteer behind it all just to meet an end... But what is death for a goddess if another start?
Music choice from this part: Underworld vibes - Hollowed Frame, Rule #11 My dream my addiction - Fish in a birdcage
Or open a full playlist that I was listening to on Spotify - here
Warnings: bad humor, mentions of death, violence, a bit of Raf myths (I am not sure if all of them got in or not)
First time you saw him was unexpected, your chest felt lighter, like one piece of the puzzle just clicked, and few others followed suit without any action needed.
How fitting to find the god of the sea near his habitat.
Sun was setting, and no matter how good of a writer you were, you couldn’t quite describe the atmosphere of the scene.
Purple hair caressed by the breeze. Same breeze that left delicate kisses on his skin when he raised his face to the sun, soaking in the subtle warmth of the first summer day. Smile spread on his lips as he lazily opened his eyes, watching the waves in the distance. Pausing in his stroll just to move a moment later, and like a sunflower turning its core to the sun, he turned to her. His beloved bride. The flame of his heart, the woman who had his soul. Lemurian promise tying them together, no matter what.
You felt the lightness in your chest tighten, as if it were trying to make itself smaller. Still, the trace of it lingered. Such a tragedy lemurian heart is. You never truly understood the level of devotion. You understood sacrifice, loyalty, attachment but this. This was different.
You smiled watching them for a moment.
His teasing smile, relaxed posture, lazy stroll alongside her. It all disappeared when she turned her eyes to the shells on the beach. A conversation you didn’t hear, but something she said made him frown, proud eyes filled with desperation. Tension setting in his shoulders, just to disappear into a pout once her eyes shot to him.
A laughter followed once he pretended to be offended.
He was. He was more than offended. A master deceptionist, covering his insecurities and feelings with a veil of playfulness and poise. You saw it so many times, in so many lifetimes.
You turned shortly after. Finally you found him.
It was like fate wanted you to see the struggle. The shift from how she perceived him onto how he wanted to be seen. It was not profoundly visible, but just enough for your trained eye to notice.
You saw them again a few times. Once in a cafe you usually visit to do some leisure writing of short stories, then at an amusement park where you were checking some popular games to put into your work. It was like the fates really were pushing your hand.
You didn’t have a plan – yet. You didn’t figure out who was the player in this timeline, who was pulling the strings of the story you were in. You couldn’t act.
So you watched, like when you were above, the history repeating itself. You observed how his eyes filled with fear rooted deep in his heart, when she spoke a different man’s name while on a call as they waited in a cafe. The tone was so soft and warm, the one you knew from stories of deep affection. You saw a slight pause in his steps when she didn’t respond to something he asked, too engrossed with a message on her phone, a small smile on her lips. The little traces of someone else, small shells she didn’t accept, keychain she never used, desperation visible – still he was fighting to make her sway.
You couldn’t watch it, it pained you somewhere deep between the ribs. You made sure to not linger close to see how the encounter ended. You knew it.
Those feelings started to linger in your mind more often than needed. An ache you ignored, covered by stories that matched it. You were still searching for answers, looking for leads and evidence to Astra’s meddling. There were plenty if you knew where to look.
Summer was almost gone when Mika, your manager, waltzed into your flat rambling about an exhibition that was going on. She made it a habit when she wanted you to take part in something. Not to necessarily show yourself, but for connections sake. You rarely gave into her rambling, and if you did, you never engaged with people. You still had some tact to answer, and say your greetings to the host, or the organizers, but it was it. An eccentric brilliant shut in writer - this is how they described you as. A bit bleak to your writing standards, but not everyone can catch the words from the chaos of descriptions.
Honestly, you cared little; you had, after all, a bigger fish to catch.
This time, as you ignored her rambling – as usual – listening to every nth word to get the gist of what she wanted, your attention snapped to her upon hearing the name Rafayel.
“Now, I know you will turn your nose at it, too many people, not interested in exhibition–”
“I will go” slipped faster than she was able to get to insisting you show yourself.
“And it will be stuffy, you don’t like those s– what?” she paused it seemed her blinking was a secret morse code with a hidden message. You didn’t know morse code, so she was wasting dots and lines on you.
“I will go. The name of the exhibition seems like something fitting for a story I have in mind.”
She almost kneeled in front of you, looking like she won a lottery.
“I will get you a dress and–”
“No. I will be there, but the rest is up to me.”
Beggars can't be choosers and she was more than happy for dragging you out.
The idea was to blend and disappear as much as you could. You didn’t want him to know of you yet. But, the thought that he might notice you was not unpleasant. Nothing that you would normally wear, or maybe you would? You didn’t really pay much attention to it. You just wanted to see if that was him, and if yes, what kind of art he made. To see the creative part of his soul felt almost sacred.
‘Written in the tides’ was the name of the exhibition.
Even if it was a different person, you had to admit, mortals knew how to bring things to life. There was something eternal about the paintings, installations, sculptures that adorned the hall of the gallery. It was breathtaking. You could see the waves, and almost hear the low murmur of the sea.
You knew that it was him before you saw him. The sculptures had a trace of her. His muse. Adorable.
You saw the Lemurian and his “bodyguard” later that evening. He seemed off, distracted, distressed. Even if his composure didn’t reflect it, his eyes did – the way he stepped closer, just for her to pull back, his feet tapping when he was talking with someone, all smiles and polite nods. It was a torment for him. Worse, there was no support. Mika pulled you to meet someone moments later.
You stayed in front of one painting on the side of the exhibition for a long while now. It was quiet here, less crowded as people moved from the smaller pieces to the bigger, flashier ones. This one spoke to you more.
It held so much. Loneliness in the blues and dark greens of the storm coming from afar, yearning in the turquoise waves reflecting the delicate light of the sunset. The pinks and reds mixing in the sky and atop of the waves showed you all the hatred and undying love a heart could contain. Yes. This was chaos of a soul speaking through colors and strokes of paint.
You didn’t notice when someone stood near you, until they let a quiet sigh escape their lips.
“You’ve been standing here for ages, it is the least flashy one, just random strokes” they said, and you didn’t have the will to engage. You knew the voice anyway. A longer silence sounded before the person shifted.
“Don’t you think?“
You looked at him and you swore, your chest tightened. Maybe your body is slowly dying. Heart attack at such a young age.
“No.” Your mind was too scattered, a thousand little things that disagreed with the statement of the artist.
When there was no explanation he sounded annoyed, crossing his hands on his chest, and shifting his weight.
“Why not?”
You took a breath, organizing the mess in your mind. Your hand tracing the waves mid air, reaching to the painting even if there was no way you would be able to touch it.
“It shows a story that runs deeper than the surface of the water. There is the tragedy of a love that was left unfulfilled. A resentment that loses with love, but the owner of the feeling knows the doom that the waves will bring. It’s a confession, plea for help, and silent acceptance in one painting.” You smiled at him, finding that your voice almost shook with the last sentence.
His eyes showed surprise darting from you to the painting and to you again. Like you just cheated in a game of art interpretation. In a moment you might end on a witch trial.
“Just my thoughts.” Your gaze returned to the painting.
“Is this why you are standing here?”
“Shhh… it’s a great spot to hide as well.”
“Hide?” his eyebrows shot up.
“My manager will kill me for not socializing,” you shrugged.
He laughed softly. “I get it.”
You stood there a moment longer. You expected either your manager to come here, or her to show up. Neither did.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked, finally looking at you closer, hands crossed on his chest, like he tried to remember a fleeting memory.
“Nope,” you answered, maybe a second too fast.
A small humm followed,but you noticed the shift, caution filling the space.
“But I hope to get to talk to you in the future. If you ever open your commissions.” You smiled and waved before turning around. It was time to go, before you spill something you might not want to.
The cushions were softer today. Breeze from the mountains calmer – just enough to ease your irritated mind. You never realized that the only way to get rid of him was to write what he wanted. You promised yourself it was just this one time.
Their story should be different.
On top of that you lost one of the parchments. It was not only a disaster, but it filled you with shame that made you want to cry.
You had one purpose, one job. Yet you failed at it.
What happened to the perfection you were supposed to possess?
You stood up, the writing half finished.
You didn’t have the heart to do more right now. You knew you had to soon.
You touched the water basin, making the water ripple.
A scene of oceans and blue skies that you saw in the reflection was enchanting. How you wished to touch the cool waters. To know how the sand on the shore feels under your feet.
It was a dream for a different life. Maybe you will beg Dream to let you experience it when you rest.
You looked upon the small oasis you called yours. Mountain range to the right ended abruptly, the water of the lake before you falling down into nothingness – never drying, never stopping. Your island was your prison, as it was a prison of the goddess before you, and will be for the next one. If they ever came.
You will find a way to visit mortals one day. You yearned to meet those who prayed.
You wrote your commission request. You mentioned it to Mika and, after the brief meeting, your manager reached out to his. The plan was simple: you might as well observe what is happening. The commission would give you the chance to do so.
And it worked, the idea must have struck something in his mind to the level where he actually agreed.
You met a few times, trying your best to be only focused on the task at hand. It was hard, seeing as he still sometimes looked at you too long – like he almost knew something, but then gave up.
You saw that sometimes his thoughts were somewhere else. Looking at his phone when Thomas was talking to Mika about potential cooperation on a project. You have never heard anything about any project, but the scheming of managers is best left alone. You learned that the hard way.
You met normally at the studio, but from time to time the meeting was on the run, somewhere in Lincon City, mostly in cafes. They were really just checkups on progress; neither of you had to be there.
But here you were, ordering a cup of your favourite beverage, listening to Rafayel complaining about something generic, when he froze mid-sentence. A bell by the door rang and you looked over your shoulder. She walked in with a calm, almost lethargic looking man. Both had hunter uniforms, but seemed to be in no rush. She looked at Rafayel, but didn’t even wave, as the man asked something, and she answered with a light, full-hearted laugh.
You saw Rafayel holding his breath, brows knitted together, like deciding, does he want to make a scene or murder the man in his sleep.
You felt the air heating up. The indecision on his face was clearly visible.
“Rafayel–“ you called him in an attempt to catch his attention. He didn’t answer, eyes following her to the table. The man still with her leaned a bit too close to be just coworkers, their eyes too focused and warm, to be just friendly.
Should you even meddle?
Should you meddle?
You can distract him with sea cows, right?
You could just pass him his order and get back to the table.
Enjoy a story of goddess falling for someone who is out of reach until their paths cross again. All she ever wanted is to help and defy the puppeteer behind it all just to meet an end... But what is death for a goddess if another start?
Music choice from this part: Love and Deepspace instrumental
Or open a full playlist that I was listening to on Spotify - here
Warnings: bad humor, mentions of death, violence, a bit of Raf myths (I am not sure if all of them got in or not)
Time passed slowly, as it always does when you are waiting for something, searching for the one that you remembered.
With memories slowly creeping in your dreams your mind became clearer. There was so much you still didn’t know. So much that did not make sense yet. Flashes scattered through your mind like puzzles from too many different boxes.
This world was surprisingly accommodating to the chaos that you felt inside.
Evol it was called apparently – a power possessed only by a low percentage of the population. It made you smile, thinking of humans getting to experience slow changes. It was not as if they were becoming gods, but slowly creeping up to be close to them.
Your power was classified as an evol as well. Although you used it only once and only your manager witnessed it. It happened purely by accident, you really were wary of using your powers. You didn’t even remember what it really was.
The memory of you being a goddess of something still evaded you (unless it really was brain damage and you were just losing your mind with that assumption). You had a hunch what your power would cause…
Pure. Utter. Chaos.
Russian roulette.
Will something explode? Will it burn alive? Will it grow a flower crown? It will be a surprise!
Elemental evol – that is what your manager said after you ‘drowned’ the wanderer that attacked you on one of the field trips she insisted on going with you. ‘That could have been worse’, you thought as you were seeing her mild panic over the ordeal. It was quite amusing really.
The protocore left behind caught your eyes, you vaguely remembered them from your previous life, or maybe a life you saw. Inspecting the one in your hand under the moonlight was not something you planned for that day. Apparently those were highly appreciated and valuable in the world. Especially in the world of art.
Being a writer had its perks, freedom of travel and information gathering under the pretext of case study for the next book was quite handy. Especially when you started looking into the one that put you here. Not literally, but it is what it is.
A stroke of the quill in the air marked the wanderer that stood between you and the exit from the no hunting zone you had to take. One mark was all it took, to feel the warmth spreading through your body, mind getting pleasantly fuzzy in the afterwake of your powers filling your frame. You didn’t have all of it back, no, the body, even if still the same, had put a limit on you. One you will have to expand in due time if you wish to put an end to the tragedy you were a spectator in.
One dodge later you saw the mark solidify, burning into the skin of the wanderer with a quiet sizzle. Light filled the lines on its impression, and then you felt it, thousands of choices and powers surging in a second through your mind, and locking on a random one. And just like that, the wanderer exploded with a dull pop. Like a balloon. Sending you rolling on the grass, its flesh clinging for a moment to your clothes before disappearing.
Well that was disgusting. Next time, you need to stand further away and maybe an umbrella would be a good idea.
wanna introduce your mc and your LI? ٩(>ᴗ<)و
here's a cute little template you can use! 🌼note: i put two picture slots because lads has some variations that i wanna add |･ω･｀) (blobbu, ancient china, chibis, myths, etc) but you can put whatever in there LOL 🌼note 2: i changed it from yumeship to general ship chart if anyone wanted to use it for their other lads ship (ᵕ ´ ∇ ˋ ˶)
Enjoy a story of goddess falling for someone who is out of reach until their paths cross again. All she ever wanted is to help and defy the puppeteer behind it all just to meet an end... But what is death for a goddess if another start?
Music choice from this part: KIN part 1
Or open a full playlist that I was listening to on Spotify - here (some songs are not available on Spotify :/ )
Warnings: bad humor, mentions of death, violence, a bit of Raf myths (I am not sure if all of them got in or not)
This world you ended in confused you at first. Navigating between what you knew, what scraps of memory you had in you and what you saw and learned from your surroundings was hard.
Spinning a story worthy of a master teller got you on an even footing in a matter of a few months. The slow pace was more than welcomed. It allowed you to pick small details, to imitate the standards of what it was like to live in this foreign world.
It allowed you to gather your thoughts. With each passing night you dreamt of something familiar, like a breeze on your skin. A sweet melody setting deeply into your heart and mind.
At first it was a voice.
Something that started as a whisper when you were in the land of dreams, sand under your feet and breeze on your skin making you feel right, at ease.
Then came the vision, a blur. City far beyond the reach of humans, protected by depths and currents so crushing it could tear apart gods if those were not welcomed. It was fascinating. Even if dangerous, it felt inviting.
Other times the visions were colder, parts and pieces of stories that did not fit to the one bringing you comfort. Those, as quick as they came, were gone leaving their memory in your mind, but not igniting comforting warmth that spread through your veins.
The soft whisper of dreams of oceans’ waves, storms at sea, hunted you. You didn’t know why.
A year in this weird place passed before you could blink.
You were noticed by a publisher, for one of the stories, the old forgotten tale of the past that you witnessed being above in the stars. Before you knew it, you were writing a book. Words sipping through your fingers, the chaos of your mind clarifying with every stroke of the keyboard, retelling of things you saw in a past life.
Before you were able to write the ideas down, your mind was swarmed, loud and raw. A hurricane in making. You learned how to control it quickly. People around were not able to follow the thoughts that were escaping through your mouth into the world. You slowed down, learned to be patient, quiet. Your stories told a louder tale.
But you didn’t tell them all.
There was one special dream you kept to yourself. You saw another story, stories, like a mirage of other goddesses in a similar position that you were in. You decided to write them an aid. It was not really a story, just a notebook where you were writing down the situations you saw, making sure that each one of them would find something in their grave that would help. A book, it was an obvious choice – those are always full of surprise. You weren’t sure if that was changing anything, if those visions were of the past, future, or now in a different solar system. But, writing it didn't cost you anything, so you did.
Another secret was more dangerous. You remembered the god you were at war with. And you knew he might have remembered some stories as well. Especially those that he wrote in the blood and tears of others. You started with those which would not put you in the spotlight.
Or so you thought.
Success under a fake pen name chased you, and you escaped half heartedly. Let the name be known, but the person kept to the shadows.
Your agent, a nanny as you liked to call it internally, was nice enough. She was putting up with your quietness, passing it as eccentric tendencies, where one day you did not say a word, just to talk non stop the other, if there were familiar faces around.
This reawakening was becoming quite the story itself. Maybe you were no goddess, maybe it was just your imagination running wild.
Then the dreams returned, making you forget the doubt for some time.
They were stronger, clearer.
The city at the bottom of the sea illuminated by the never resting flame. Its citizens – proud and beautiful. Sirens, you thought. Lemurians, a whisper corrected. Not your voice but someone’s you had a feeling you should remember. Eyes of sky and setting sun. A fleeting feeling of a touch, scales under your fingertips. A scent of amber and sea. A burning warmth that fills your body with calmness. Then it clicked.
You saw him, you knew him.
The god of the seas.
The eternal flame of Lemuria.
The one who gave his heart, who suffered over and over again – who made his beloved forget him, just to save her life. The one who saw her die so many times while you watched. Too far to reach out.
He died for her out of love.
You died for him even if he didn’t know you. Fighting for his heart's release, touched by his devotion.
I am in the mood for mayhem 🤣 Hoping for the best but awaiting the worst (job hunting era 🤭) Soooo.... I decided to de-erase Erased (lol how bizzare it sounds)
Long story short, wrote it last year, posted on AO3 - deleted from AO3. Honestly, I don't care if it's badly written and that the plot is meh 🤭 It got me to writing in the first place :) Soooo In the spirit of write it badly but write it, I offer you Rafayel's road for Erased.
It will be interactive, so you get a path based on what is chosen along the way, I will probably not provide the alternative parts (yea it's a lot trust me I wrote it breaking my head). My writing prob changed, but such is life🤭🤭 I will also not proof read it again, or fix small issues that I might notice along the way. Well that's enough, I will post this and next part right after for getting into Raf, as 1st chapter was with a choice of LI (you randomly clicked on a symbol and LI choice was based on that randomly :) )
Enjoy a story of goddess falling for someone who is out of reach until their paths cross again. All she ever wanted is to help and defy the puppeteer behind it all just to meet an end... But what is death for a goddess if another start?
Warnings: bad humor, mentions of death, violence, a bit of Raf myths (I am not sure if all of them got in or not)
You were a goddess.
You saw every timeline, every tragedy, every jealous outburst of Astra that ever happened.
You sympathized, sending moments of serenity whenever you could — a clear patch of sky, a sea breeze, a soothing melody, a calming dream, a blooming field — trying to divert some of the rage whenever you could. Looking upon all of them, their doubts, pains, deaths, and rebirth.
Over, and over, and over again.
They inspired you, shook the stagnation from your bones, and put your resolve to the test. Something that was inevitably settling in the core when you are a god. They ignited the power that lay inside, gave you a purpose, and made you care once again.
They didn't stir your heart in a way mortals would know.
It was not pity that pushed you to action, nor was it a deeply rooted spark of hatred. Playing with souls that sacrificed themselves for another over, and over, and over like a violent ballad played on a rotting lire should not be tolerated. Be it created by god or the universe itself.
It was something else that made you care, something you couldn’t yet describe.
Something that grew with every tear shed, with every dying breath, with every drop of blood.
The life of a god is similar to the mortal one — whatever shape their souls take — but different at the same time.
Never with a happy ending; to kill a god, after all, was to kill a part of the universe. Just to make it reborn later, the never-ending cycle of creation remaking the balance it craved.
Death was only a temporary disequilibrium.
One you never expected to experience.
You were dead for a very long time. Dreaming of planets and stars, floating in the void that burned your skin, just to soothe it moments later with waves of coldness. Silent voyage on the river of stars between galaxies. It felt like forever, and probably was way longer than that. Time was a concept so easily broken when eternity of power was a given.
Your slumber ended one day when a rumble woke you up. There was no fanfare, no prophetic vision, nor a resemblance of rebirth. Just a gasp of air filling your lungs.
You felt weak and confused as you stumbled through the tunnels. Broken marbles and dust-covered cedar were the only things you saw once your eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Night skies and deep emerald canopies greeted you once you stepped out of the slim crack in what you assumed was your grave.
A deep, shaky breath escaped your lips, and you could swear it was the first full one you took in centuries.
Your mind was hazy, filled with scraps of memories and non-coherent pictures of the past. Faces you didn't recognize but seemed familiar, sounds you knew yet couldn’t place in space, smells that were foreign and felt like home. Your knees buckled under your weight, causing you to kneel, and tilting your face to the stars above. And just like that, a cold realization washed over you.
You joined a timeline you’ve never seen.
How did you die? What goddess were you? How did you end up here? Whose pawn, in a never-ending game of gods, were you?
So many questions flowed through your mind, you almost lost focus on what mattered — you still had your name. And what you knew was that no matter your role, you will regain yourself. You will show them, whoever they were, that killing you made you just stronger. Once you set your goal, neither heaven nor hell will stop you.
You knew as well the symbol that stood for who you were.
