#luminous fragments

[laugtherhyena]

Wouldn't be Artfight without last minute additions 💥💥💥 shout out to the desert trio i like these guys a lot

(go read their character profiles for lore i'm too tired to restructre it all to fit the 3 in one gigantic explanation)

[kiruvry]

oc-tober day 1 !!

really could Not choose between any of these guys </3 i think this is my first time luminous fragments posting here actually ??

rejoice !!! ferenc elrod, ex-prince turned bard + isaiah levisay, desert kingdom prince & army head + dimitri ashford, commander of the desert kingdom rebellion + merric whitlocke resident grumpy werewolf be upon ye :}

[shisasan]

Nothing moves me like a heart full of warmth.

[remembering-the-future]

The Year Everything Changed

In 2035, the world stood still. A single breakthrough, deceptively simple, turned the concept of technology on its head. It was the Fragment—a device that manipulated luminance and velocity to shatter the boundaries of reality.

Imagine a world where light wasn't just a tool but the foundation of every interaction. The Fragment made this possible. By controlling luminance, it created interfaces of pure light, projecting images with clarity beyond comprehension. These images weren't just seen; they were felt, experienced. The difference? Velocity.

The Fragment didn’t just emit light; it played with its speed. By adjusting the velocity of photons, it allowed for objects to move through light as if it were a tangible substance. This led to the birth of Luminodynamics—a new field where engineers didn't design structures but sculpted them from beams of light.

Every industry transformed overnight. Construction? Gone. Buildings were assembled in hours from luminescent panels. Transportation? Revolutionized. Vehicles, crafted from pure light, moved at speeds dictated by the very velocity of their luminous frameworks.

The biggest shift? Human interaction. The Fragment allowed people to connect in ways previously impossible. Communication became an immersive experience, with holographic interfaces that responded to thoughts as quickly as spoken words. The line between the digital and physical worlds blurred until it vanished entirely.

By 2040, the Fragment was everywhere. Society had evolved, moving faster, shining brighter, all thanks to a small device that redefined the very fabric of existence.

Luminance and velocity—once simple concepts—became the cornerstones of a new world order. The Fragment wasn’t just a technological advancement; it was the dawn of a new era. A future where light was no longer a passive element but the driving force behind humanity's next leap forward.

[shotmrmiller]

dacryphilia baby!

simon's never really liked tears. people cry ugly, in his opinion. they get puffy-eyed, sclera bloodshot. their features twist ungracefully in their anguish, cheeks damp and ruddy. snot drips down their nose; clear, viscous. their mouths gape mid-sob, their shoulders tremble violently as they snort and gasp between fragmented words.

(never mind that the only time he's ever around a crying someone is when he stands in an interrogation room with a broken man who has crumbled under the pain he's inflicted, begging for mercy, coughing up anything and everything he needs to know.)

until he met you, with your bright eyes, soft lips, and gentle spirit.

tears suddenly make his cock throb. the first time he'd seen them, you'd been straddling his lap, wet heat struggling to stretch and accommodate to his size. your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you sank onto him, keening at feeling so full and he's barely halfway in. brave, little pet. sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. you'd looked a dream when your cunt finally swallowed him whole, thighs flush against his, looking up at him triumphantly with beads of moisture on your clumped lashes.

the second time, you'd been stressed from work, nerves raw and frayed, and patience nonexistent. nothing he couldn't fix with his head between your thighs. he plopped you on the kitchen counter, ignoring your snarling protests, and lapped up your slick with the thirst of a man lost in a desert. you came in minutes, hiccupping his name through sharp gasps of breath. you'd been spent after, body slumping with fatigue post torrent of cathartic release. he'd held your face in one hand, fingers dimpling your cheeks as he fucked your thighs, covering your cunt with his spend when a singular tear spilled from the corner of your eye.

and now. he clings to the idea of making you cry from overstimulation. he wants to see tears track down your dampened cheeks, yearns to taste salt on his tongue, aches to see your eyes glimmering under the warm glow of the bedroom lamp in the bedroom. the mere thought of your tears flowing down your face in rivulets leaves him momentarily unbalanced. he could burst in his pants untouched.

you're always so pliable beneath him, so giving when he wants to take. simon slides a finger through your wet folds, gently prodding your entrance, teasing. he knows exactly what to do to get you to the brink and keep you there— teetering that knife's sharpened edge of biting discomfort and searing ecstasy. "so close, m'so close," you garble as you try to buck your hips (he pins them down to the bed firmly, you will receive what he gives and nothing more) and he keeps at it until your throbbing pussy hurts from being held back from the edge. until you beg him with shimmering eyes to please, please, let you come. you'll be good, so good, just— please.

he gives it to you, satisfied with how delicious you look— all glossy-lipped and luminous eyes— swirling your swollen pearl under his thumb until you climax, pushing two fingers into your cunt so you can have something to clench around. your soul is barely coming back down from the heavens when he's pressing your thighs against your chest, knees almost to shoulders, feeling the air in your lungs being punched out of you when he bottoms out in one long stroke. the angle is on the verge of too much, feeling that deep pinch in your stomach you'd felt the very first time he rut his cock into you.

simon can see your eyes well with fresh tears, his throat drying at the sight. he starts to put his weight behind each thrust, hearing the squeaks that fall past your lips. you take what he gives you so well, pride prickling in the base of his skull. it tightens the coil that's spooling oh so ever tighter beneath his navel but it's not enough. he wants what he wants.

he weaves a hand down to your sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles on it until he feels your walls fluttering and squeeze him like a vicious vise. it rips the breath out of him, almost has him fucking his cum into you but he sharpens his focus— gritting his teeth to keep from ending the fun. his iron will has never been so useful. you're wriggling beneath him now as if trying to get away from him (as if you could) because he keeps touching your clit. your legs are shaking, your mewls are loud enough to cause a ringing in his ears but he quickly gets you to another orgasm. you're a sobbing mess now; hiccups, gasps, high-pitched squeals.

and tears. full-blown tears spill, roll down your pretty face, sticking strands of your hair to cheeks. he wants to see this forever. wants it etched behind his eyelids, wants it inked on his skin (what a thought. he just might, no one has to know.)

he relents, abandoning your over-sensitized clit to grab at your fleshy hips to piston into you until he comes with a groan (and salt on his lips)

[odileeclipse]

In Eyes I Almost Knew (In the Presence of Truth spin-off?)

(I just want to preface this is like a super old Idea of what I thought would happen of course, I love the amnesia trope but then I scrapped it but if I had stuck with it I wrote a small blurb for it just because I wanted to explore the idea before committing to the bit....I had the time so I polished it from the original. In this version I wanted for MC to walk alone with no friends which is why their friends don't appear but again scrapped it. I would prefer they don't walk the path alone)

It was odd, you thought, how the Faerie Kingdom felt at once completely familiar and utterly foreign. The silver pathways glistened beneath your feet, winding endlessly beneath canopies of strange, luminous flowers whose petals opened gently, glowing like captured moonlight. It was beautiful and utterly frustrating.

Frustrating because you couldn't remember anything.

Well, almost nothing. You remembered names, at least three of them: Chai Latte, warm laughter wrapped in mischief. Hazelnut Biscotti, solid and steady like stone walls. Earl Grey, quietly precise and annoyingly right, always.

But aside from them, your mind remained stubbornly blank. Elder Faerie Cookie had taken great care in cloaking you, hiding you away beneath enchantments that felt heavy and safe at once. He had murmured softly, eyes gentle yet burdened, as he'd draped the fabric over your shoulders.

"Keep your hood up, little one. Your safety depends upon secrecy."

He never elaborated, of course.

So here you were, hood drawn low over your eyes, following Elder Faerie quietly along silver paths. Your feet moved on instinct, careful yet curious, tracing the winding veins of the kingdom. You tried again to pry at your memories, nudging at them like bruises gentle but insistent. Still nothing. You huffed quietly in annoyance.

Just as you were readying yourself to protest Elder Faerie's quiet, mysterious guidance, you rounded a corner and nearly stumbled directly into a group of Cookies already deep in hushed conversation. You stopped abruptly, Elder Faerie’s gentle hand steadying at your back.

“Oh!” the loudest of the group said, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, a candy cane slung confidently over his shoulder. “Hello there!”

You blinked beneath your hood. He seemed friendly enough, if not a bit overly eager. Beside him, a wizard fiddled nervously with his oversized hat, mumbling something about sudden interruptions. A shy Cookie in a strawberry hoodie peeked from behind them, her eyes barely visible beneath the hood’s shadows.

Then, the fourth Cookie turned, and the quiet murmurings ceased entirely.

He wore robes of white and gold that shimmered softly like sunlight caught in honey. A soul jam, gentle and radiant, pulsed at his chest. But what stopped your heart was when he lifted his gaze to meet yours directly eyes gentle, patient, and achingly familiar.

One eye was golden like warm sunlit amber, the other as blue and deep as forgotten oceans.

Something deep within your chest shifted painfully. Your breath caught, lodging somewhere tight and burning in your throat. You didn't know him couldn't possibly know him. You searched your fragmented memory desperately, yet found only smoke and emptiness.

So why did those eyes look like something you’d once cherished, once trusted more than anything in the world?

Your fingers clenched tight at your sides beneath the cloak, as though gripping reality itself. The confusion must have shown, because Elder Faerie stepped forward quietly, his voice soft and low beside your ear.

“Do not fear, young one,” he murmured gently. “The ache you feel…it is not for Pure Vanilla Cookie. Though he may resemble one your heart once held close, it is not he.”

You blinked hard, barely breathing. “I don’t understand,” you whispered back, voice tight with something you couldn’t name. You had no choice but to trust him…Elder Faerie but it felt as though he was hiding the truth. There it was again that dull ache in your memory.

He only squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your heart knows what your mind does not. Let it rest for now.”

You inhaled slowly, deliberately. Fine. Logic dictated arguing was futile. If you couldn’t even recall why these eyes made your heart twist so sharply, there was no point fighting Elder Faerie’s cryptic warnings.

Pure Vanilla Cookie gentle, patient smiled softly, stepping forward. “It is wonderful to finally meet you. Elder Faerie Cookie speaks highly of you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your voice steady, cordial. “Thank you. Likewise.”

He inclined his head, eyes lingering with subtle curiosity, yet he asked nothing more. He seemed aware, somehow, of the careful lines you both danced around.

You turned slightly toward Elder Faerie again, unable to keep your question buried. “Can I ask...why exactly I need to stay hidden? I mean, is it a ‘dangerous assassin chasing me’ kind of thing, or more like an ‘ancient evil prophecy’ thing?” you asked lightly, using humor as a shield against the uncomfortable ache in your chest.

Elder Faerie Cookie looked briefly surprised then his expression softened slightly. He sighed, fond yet exasperated, and you felt a surge of pride in having cracked his serious demeanor, if only just a little.

“You remain hidden,” he explained carefully, “because who you were once mattered greatly. There are those who might seek you, yes…but not assassins, I assure you.”

You nodded solemnly. “So, an ancient evil prophecy, then.”

From behind Elder Faerie, GingerBrave laughed brightly, and even Pure Vanilla’s lips twitched in amusement.

“You have not changed entirely, it seems,” Elder Faerie murmured softly, shaking his head. But the corners of his mouth curled faintly upward, betraying quiet relief.

You smiled sheepishly beneath your hood, feeling just a little lighter. “Well, memory loss apparently hasn’t erased my impeccable comedic timing, at least.”

Wizard Cookie gave an exaggerated sigh, glancing aside dramatically. “Oh good. Another one who thinks they’re funny.”

Strawberry Cookie muffled a soft giggle behind her sleeve, peeking cautiously from beneath her hood. “I-I thought it was funny...”

“See?” you gestured triumphantly. “Clearly, I’m hilarious.”

Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckled gently, eyes warm with an unspoken fondness. “Indeed. We are lucky, then, that humor endures even when memories fail.”

Your smile faltered only slightly. He was right. Humor endured your favorite defense against pain you couldn’t yet face.

Your eyes lingered a moment longer on Pure Vanilla’s, still aching softly beneath your ribs. He was beautiful, gentle, kind but Elder Faerie was right. Your heart didn’t ache for him. No, the ache felt older, deeper. Whoever it was that Pure Vanilla reminded you of someone you’d lost and forgotten they still lingered just beyond your reach.

You looked away before the ache could sharpen, forcing a bright grin beneath your hood.

“So,” you began lightly, breaking the tension deliberately, “am I at least allowed snacks while in magical witness protection, or is the whole ‘mysterious-hooded-figure’ thing just for dramatic effect? I’m craving…” your heart ached for a minute. “Pineapples…?” Yeah you love pineapples don’t you?

Pure Vanilla’s smile widened, gentle amusement dancing softly in his mismatched eyes.

Elder Faerie sighed again but this time, openly amused. “You will have whatever you wish. Though if it quiets your humor, perhaps double portions.”

You beamed beneath your cloak, triumphant. “Perfect.”

And as laughter softened the lingering ache in your chest, you thought perhaps just perhaps you might be okay here in the kingdom of silver and secrets, hidden away until memories decided they were ready to return.

At least until then, you had your jokes.

A/N This isn't supposed to really even be angst it's a little confusing to me but I wanted to put it out there. I feel a little conflicted but ultimately when this does happen in canon, it will be a lot different and a lot more fleshed out than this.

[eelliotss]

— a whisper of what was

‼️Sylus x reader, angst

“May we forget the cruelest trace of all—the fracture of what could have been.”

word count = 0.7k

a short little thing, from the meme ‘im scared of marriage bc what if its not sylus’ 😔

ps. i should really stop writing and actually start finishing my work

Silver-white patterns weave through the fabric, cascading over your body in effortless elegance. The gown drapes and falls in perfect harmony, each fold a whisper of grace. Light filters through, catching on the soft shimmer of silk and lace, casting a celestial glow against your skin. Scattered petals lie at your feet, a quiet tribute to your presence. A translucent veil, weightless as morning mist, brushes against your cheeks—its delicate florals a veil of mystery, obscuring yet enhancing the beauty curated beneath.

The doors glide open, and you step forward, the soft notes of the piano curling through the air like a whispered promise. Petals drift from above, weightless and slow, settling gently around you, each step marking the path to something irrevocable. The fabric of your gown flows with you, catching the light, luminous in its quiet splendor.

And then, at the end of the path, the world stills. Hands reach forward, careful and deliberate, lifting the delicate veil that has cloaked you in mystery. The air is thick with breathless anticipation as your eyes meet his—steady, searching, warm, and filled to the brim with love and admiration.

Your lips curl up instinctively, a warmth blooming in your chest. The weight of the moment, the nerves that had tightened your breath, all dissolve the instant your eyes meet his. There’s something steady in the way he looks at you—something certain, as if this was always meant to be. The world outside blurs, the soft music and falling petals fading into the background. It’s just him now, standing before you, waiting.

But as you turn to the crowd, to the sea of faces witnessing this moment, your breath catches. Among them, just beyond the soft glow of candles and petals, you meet a gaze you know too well. Crimson. Vivid, piercing, and unmistakably his.

The world shifts. A tremor runs through you as a million fragments of memory surge forward, flooding your mind in an unstoppable tide. Laughter in the dark. Fingers brushing against your wrist. A whispered name. A promise—one you had long since buried. Yet, in this instant, with his eyes locked onto yours, it all comes rushing back.

The air around you feels thinner, the weight of the past pressing against your ribs. But it’s too late now. Isn’t it?

In his eyes, a million words crash into you—unspoken, yet deafening. Pleas, regrets, memories tangled in the crimson depths, unraveling like threads of a past you thought was lost.

In his eyes, you could feel everything. The weight of what was, the ache of what could have been. The fire that never truly died, smoldering beneath the surface, waiting—begging for you to remember.

And you do.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, the warmth of the hand in yours suddenly distant, barely there. The room is filled with music, with blessings, with the weight of a future set in stone. Yet for one fleeting second, as your world collides with his, time stands still.

And your lips curl up once more—a defeated smile, a quiet surrender. Not to the moment, nor to fate, but to the undeniable truth that lingers between you.

Your fingers rise instinctively, drawn to the delicate weight resting against your chest. The cool metal presses into your skin, a talisman of a time long past, yet never truly gone. A silent confession lingers at the edge of your breath, one you’ll never say aloud but know he understands:

Even after all these years, you still ghost my mind.

Even now, as I stand at the altar of a new beginning, I wear the proof of you against my heart.

A silent vow, a relic of what once was—of what will never be again.

But the world is cruel. Love itself, alone, is not enough to promise our destiny, nor to bind two souls beyond the limits of time.

So at the threshold of my new life, may our roads never cross again.

May the pain of our love get buried in the remnants of our memories.

And may we forget the cruelest trace of all—the fracture of what could have been.

And so you break the gaze, and turn to look at the man in front of you. His eyes holding the comfort you seek, though not the depth. Not like his.

Never like his.

But you keep your smile, steady and unwavering. Your fingers finally loosen, slipping away from the gem resting against your chest, as if releasing the past itself.

“I do.”

[acti-veg]

‘83 percent of people—and more than 99 percent of Americans and Europeans—are living under light-polluted skies. Every year, the proportion of the planet covered by artificial light gets 2 percent bigger and 2 percent brighter. A luminous fog now smothers a quarter of Earth's surface and is thick enough in many places to blot out the stars.

Over a third of humanity, and almost 80 percent of North Americans, can no longer see the Milky Way. "The thought of light traveling billions of years from distant galaxies only to be washed out in the last billionth of a second by the glow from the nearest strip mall depresses me no end," vision scientist Sonke Johnsen once wrote.

(…) Sensory pollution is the pollution of disconnection. It detaches us from the cosmos. It drowns out the stimuli that link animals to their surroundings and to each other. In making the planet brighter and louder, we have also fragmented it. While razing rainforests and bleaching coral reefs, we have also endangered sensory environments. That must now change. We have to save the quiet, and preserve the dark.’

-Ed Yong, An Immense World

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Of Monsters and Men

A List of Beautiful Words in Song Lyrics by Of Monsters and Men

Amends - compensation for a loss or injury

Creature - something created either animate or inanimate; such as: a lower animal, a human being, or a being of anomalous or uncertain aspect or nature

Crook - a person who engages in fraudulent or criminal practices

Discolor - to alter or change the hue or color of

Evaporate - to pass off in vapor or in minute particles; to pass off or away; disappear

Feral - of, relating to, or suggestive of a wild beast

Fractions - pieces broken off; fragments

Furrows - marked narrow depressions; grooves

Hummingbird - any of a family (Trochilidae) of tiny brightly colored nonpasserine American birds related to the swifts that have a very slender bill and an extensible tongue for sipping nectar and that usually hover rather than perch when feeding

Illuminate - to make luminous or shining

Indigo - a deep reddish blue

Lionheart - a lionhearted person (i.e., courageous, brave)

Odyssey - a long wandering or voyage usually marked by many changes of fortune

Pillars - supporting, integral, or upstanding members or parts

Puncture - a hole, wound, or perforation made by puncturing

Sheltered - to constitute or provide a shelter for; protected

Silhouettes - a likeness cut from dark material and mounted on a light ground or one sketched in outline and solidly colored in

Sleepers - one that sleeps; someone or something unpromising or unnoticed that suddenly attains prominence or value

Sloom - a light sleep; doze, slumber

Somber - so shaded as to be dark and gloomy; conveying gloomy suggestions or ideas

Soothsayer - a person who predicts the future by magical, intuitive, or more rational means; prognosticator

Temple - a building for religious practice

Uninviting - not appealing or attractive; not inviting

Vessel - a container for holding something; a person into whom some quality (such as grace) is infused

Wild-eyed - having a wild expression in the eyes; consisting of or favoring extreme or visionary ideas

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[laugtherhyena]

Info sheet on the lf werewolves i made ages ago but forgot to repost here.

(humans on panel 1 and guy on panel 4 belong to @iro-azayaka-kun arctic wolf on panel 2 belongs to @kiruvry

[kiruvry]

oc-tober day 3 !!

HELLOOOOO back again with FUCKINGGGG luminous FRAGMENTS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

auden ebersol !!!!!! my Silliest Soldier HES BEEN ARPUND FOR LIKE..???? SINCE THE START . OF LF AND I DONT POST OR SPEAK ABOUT HIM ENOUGH i love him so dearly .... a single mom (dad) (of four drastically different adoptive children) who works two jobs (a single (illegal) job) ❤❤❤❤❤❤

he's like 2 years old in terms of creation that's so insane to me ................ so glad he's mellowed out and moved on from his edgy >:( ness . he's my favourite 37 year old man with an abject misery in his eyes ❤

he's a character very close to my heart even if i don't speak about or show him off much, i love him very very much :]

[shisasan]

To live not loudly, but luminously To move in grace, and speak only what burns true To let beauty rise from the ordinary To heal the old wounds, as one touches sacred relics and craft the kind of magic that leaves the air different, fluid That is the pulse, and vow, of my soul 🜍 ⟡ ⟢ Spring 2025

[morialoe17]

Finally have my thoughts processed and here's what I think about chapter 208 (SPOILERS)

While DER is an apocalyptic world, it hasn't reached its conclusion yet, right? Contributors are still continuing to add onto the world's lore and all

Then what if... because of Soleum possessing whatever amalgamation Daydream/Cheerful Research Institute made, the apocalypse arc finally kickstarts? Like, he ends up becoming the key to the start of it.

And if he didn't possess the current body he has now, maybe it would've taken longer to or would never happen in the first place?

What if "Ireum/Name" is actually only just a place holder, and Daydream, who knew nothing and only based their experiments from surface knowledge of the Luminous Church's beliefs, ended up tapping on dangerous territory and accidentally created a supposed 'Ireum-nim' through irregular/incorrect means--resulting to an anomaly and start the apocalypse. If this is the case, maybe this arc will start with the formal introduction to the cult and significant figure from it.

Who knows, maybe this would result in a conflict between the Luminous Church and Daydream, and the Bureau would end up doing the damage control. If the Bureau does interfere, I'd assume Hyunmu Team 1 would be leading it.

As for the end scene of the chapter, someone pointed out on twt to reread chapter 50.

Here's an excerpt from the two chapters:

Chapter 208:

The body bulges out.

The tattoo is falling off.

I disappear. The human body disintegrates.

The self that has realized the truth rejects the form of the human body. The body tries to return to its original form.

A strange. bizarre, composite image of something unknown burst out from within me.

Scales and horns, hooves, thorns, piercing ribs.

Chapter 50:

The staff member looked at me briefly, then reached over to the desk and picked up something.

A post-it note.

Have a good evening.

'So they're surprisingly sociable, huh?'

Soleum mentions in this chapter the similarity of him using a post-it-note to converse when he first met Jaekwan.

"Thank you."

I bowed politely. The entirely black-clad desk worker gave me a slight nod in retum and stepped back to sit down at their desk.

The shattered fragments of what appeared to be the medium of the Darkness, likely some kind of glass, sparkled on the broken floor.

In the reflection of the shards, I briefly noticed the shadow of the staff member's leg twist unnaturally. making their foot appear like a cloven hoof...

...and then retum to a normal human form.

With the way the worker was described, and how Soleum found it to be similar to him, it's as if this was intended to be significant--a foreshadowing.

Then, did Soleum meet his version of self from ch208 in ch50? That's the confusing part.

The thing is, some readers interpretation of what happened with Soleum's wish is that it transported him through time and space, while others think he just got teleported. Personally, I think it's the former.

Chapter 206:

"Anyway, even if I went further underground... the same office hallway kept repeating Itself...." "Was it the exact same hallway?" "Yes. Same office. The structure, even the scratches were the same, so it's the same place, but... just a bit...the time zone seemed different.

This was Soleum's conversation with J3 about his investigation about the Cheerful Research Institute.

I'm led to think that the time within that space is warped, and since that place was considered a darkness from how Brown could talk to Soleum, it was possible that a force allowed him to see and interact with this version of himself, albeit without him knowing it's actually him.

But with how confusing it is, it's hard to determine if that really is the case or something else entirely. We can only rely on the release of the next part to know...

[remembering-the-future]

The Whisper Revolution Changed Everything.

In 2032, Whisper became the technology that altered the course of human history. It wasn’t just a leap—it was a boundless plunge into the future. With the launch of Whisper 2.0, communication as we knew it was rendered obsolete. The days of typing, tapping, and texting ended, replaced by the subtle magic of thought-driven interaction.

Whisper didn’t read your mind; it interpreted your intent. A fragment of thought was all it took to send a message, control devices, or even interact with Luminous, the ambient AI that became humanity’s most trusted companion. Luminous, in its omnipresent glow, powered by fragments of quantum computing, didn’t just answer questions—it anticipated them, guiding decisions with a foresight that seemed almost mystical.

The integration of Whisper and Luminous marked the Fragment Era, a time when technology became indistinguishable from thought. Information flowed seamlessly, like a river, between humans and machines. This revolution transcended the old ways, transforming society into a network of minds, connected not by wires, but by ideas.

The real marvel, however, was not in the technology itself, but in its implications. Barriers of language, distance, and even privacy crumbled. In a world where thoughts could be shared and understood instantly, collaboration reached unprecedented heights. The Whisper Revolution didn’t just make life easier; it redefined what it meant to be human.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hope your yard work went well and the heat wasn't too strong! On this not-but-still Wednesday, I would like to prompt either established Malec with one making flower crowns/bouquets for the other, or not-established Malec with pining Alec making courting flower bouquets but hesitating to give them to Magnus - basically I'd like to see our pretty boys with flowers, sfw/nsfw as you'd like 🌻

thank you!! I did conquer the yard!!! I think it may have also conquered me a bit but that's what happened when you're allergic and disabled and doing yard work ^_^ still worth it to do it myself rn tho. I like yard work, I just complain because its also hard and exhausting and I'm allergic to half of it. which means I just get more stubborn tbh.

this is in the petals vs. because Alec and Magnus love their flower crowns and their garden and each other in most verses but especially this verse. they're as soft as petals for each other.

and I hope you enjoy, it's just something soft and sweet between them

<3 lumine

in his wake petals fall

Alec normally lets Magnus make the flower crowns, however he’s been tempted by the star jasmine climbing up the trellis.

It’s delicate and fragrant and the vines tangle with his fingers, Magnus’ magic as eager for contact as Alec is.

It’s not a perfect crown, not like the ones Magnus makes, but it’s elegant enough and it will hold together and that’s all Alec needs.

One crown is for his own brow and the other he holds carefully, with a care normally reserved for adamas fragments and newly born babes.

Magnus is on the phone, voice terse and bordering angry and Alec hides the crown behind his back.  The last thing he wants is Magnus reacting to the sight of it and ruining his phone call.

There are two ways it could go.

One, Magnus is overly charmed and his anger disappears, thus letting some undeserving lout get away with wasting his time.

Or two, he will become even more enraged and eviscerate his client until there is nothing left of them before kissing Alec breathless.

As much as Alec enjoys the latter option, he doesn’t want to risk the first and also, the client might be important.

Not more important than Alec and his flower crowns — Alec knows better than to even think such a thing near Magnus who will then utterly prove him wrong — but still, important enough to be careful.

Alec shuffles to the side and places the crown behind the teakettle, easy to retrieve but where Magnus won’t be able to see it from where his magic is rippling through the air.

Alec watches it with delighted amusement, reaching out his fingers to pass through the vibrant red energy and charmed when it turns purple-blue and wreathes around his fingers. 

It catches Magnus’ attention enough that his anger wanes enough for a delighted smile and the blowing of a magical kiss that Alec catches.

It’s warm and soft and filled with adoration and Alec wishes he had the magic to send one back, but instead he simple walks over and presses a gentle kiss to Magnus’ jaw and then his forehead.

Magnus relaxes then, leaning back against Alec when he braces himself, letting Magnus use his strength.

—

“What would I do without you, hmm?” Magnus murmurs quietly, the words almost too soft to be heard and then the moment is broken by yet another tedious question.

Magnus is about to send magic through the phone and set the werewolf he’s dealing with on fire.

Alas, Magnus cannot go killing all the alpha’s in the East Coast no matter how much easier it would make his life.

Even Alexander’s kiss to his hair doesn’t calm him.  Not when he catches the gentle scent of jasmine and realizes just how long he’s been on the call.

Alexander made himself a flower crown!

He now dons it, soft and luxurious and entirely made without Magnus magic — except the fact that it was grown with his magic but still, it should have been twinned by his fingers and magic.

Not that Alexander didn’t do a lovely job, but it’s the pride of it.

Alexander is supposed to be crowned by Magnus’ hand and he feels as though his client has stolen a bit of peace and happiness away.

It’s with anger sparking that he verbally cuts down the werewolf’s pride to a more manageable degree and then hangs up.

He’ll call back tonight.

Or tomorrow.

Whenever he next thinks of it and once he has corrected his erroneous mistake.

“Darling, I’ve failed you.” Magnus murmurs, truly distraught despite the fact that Alexander is looking at him with nothing but charmed fondness and love.

“Actually, I wanted to surprise you. I just didn’t want to interrupt.” And then Alexander is leaving him — which is truly the most heinous of crimes.  

Except then he is forgiven.

Instantly, because he’s made Magnus a charming matching crown with the slightest bit of a lopsided vine and Magnus will crush stars and diamonds to ensure that this crown never fades.

“I love it.” 

Magnus doesn’t even let Alexander speak, motioning with an eager gesture and it gets him several kisses before the crown is placed gently on his coiffed hair.

It smells divine but it’s even better because Alexander’s angelic magic is delicate and intertwined with Magnus’ own magic and the vines.

A small gift of himself that has Magnus pulling him in for a kiss.

-

yes Alec weighs his choices based on whether or not he thinks it will help or deter. like sometimes its good that he can redirect Magnus and sometimes, it wont actually help in the long run and he needs to consider that because they make each other too happy

[talonabraxas]

☩ St Michael ☩ Talon Abraxas “Our Higher Self is perfect, Omniscient and Almighty. A fragment of God himself. A pure, transparent, luminous, Quintessence.” ― Omraam Mikhael Aivanhov