Heart of a fiend works in mysterious ways

I am Pumpkin and this is my Love and Deepspace nest (evolving from dumpster) (´∀｀•)

This lair of a fiend will very slooooowly fill up with whatever my head spawns.

So far you can find bits and pieces with most of my brain power going to Sylus and Rafayel. But there is space for all in my lil noggin <3

Will it be cute? Will it be sad? I have no clue ┐(´∀｀)┌

Sometimes I think and the I forget so if something peaks your interest pester me lol (ㆆ ᴗ ㆆ) Pls be patient with me...

Find full dragon's treasure list below :)

There is a lot of options coming :) some are bad, chapter 11 is the end, one good, one bad :) so next chapter and chapter after will be fun :D (for me anyway to see where it goes)

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: Do I wanna know - Arctic Monkeys 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)

We have a choice at the end here :)

The unheard words seemed to latch into his brain. Resting in between the subconscious and conscious, like an itch that you cannot fully reach. It was irritating, but more than that, it lulled him into a state of calm, contentment, acceptance. 

The picture that greeted him from the floor after he smashed most of his studio's space didn’t faze him, did not fuel his desperation like it did when he came back yesterday after falling apart. 

He could now gather the pieces. Get the glass out of the way, not cutting his feet like the day before. It was weird — in the same way that overgrown ruins in the middle of nowhere are peculiar. The helplessness of the morning seemed distant. He was still sad; it’s not like the calmness stripped him of his feelings, but it didn’t make him collapse on the sofa, staring at the ceiling for hours without end. 

Next morning, just like the storm, this feeling was gone. His heart aching once again for something, someone he will not have — not in this life. He started to believe that not in any of them. 

It was a week later that he saw the woman who did something. He just did not, yet, know what. 

“Miss Writer, how nice to see you!” he smiled, standing behind her the moment she stepped into the small bohemian café. Yes, he knew, and yes, he was waiting. 

“Mister Painter,” she turned, not expecting him; she almost jumped hearing his voice. No wonder really — this place was well hidden in an alleyway that was far from main streets, far away from what he would seek out. “What a surprise to see you.” A hint of distress didn’t escape him — her hand tightening on an old book she had. 

“Fate must have pulled some strings! This place was recommended to me,” — he would play it casually — “so here I am.” He pointed with an open hand to the counter. “And you are my savior. I was stuck, but you walked in with the confidence of a regular. Any recommendations? My treat.” His gaze shifted to the menu board with various drinks, but when her gaze followed, he focused on her. 

Her guard was back up. 

“They have a mean dirty chai if you want a mix of both worlds.” The book went back to her bag, her face not turning from the board. Posture relaxing, like the book had secrets and hiding it made it safe. 

He paid for their drinks and led her to a table where he made himself comfortable before she came in. The drink was surprisingly good, and he allowed the silence to stretch. 

“What was Miss Writer reading?” he smiled, resting his head on his hand, leaning just enough to close the short distance provided by the table. 

“Just some research material,” her gaze weaved to the side before leaning back, putting a bigger gap between them. A push for a pull like waves. The expectant silence made her laugh — a small sound. “Lemurian stories, or really scraps that I could find,” she didn’t look at him playing with a cup in her hands. There was hesitation in her voice, a flicker that told him much more than the answer. He had done his homework already. Last week was a hunt for information, after all. 

“Did my dramatic revelation inspire you to look into the Lemurians' heart predicament?” 

She tilted her head from side to side, not fully confirming. Just like that, he swapped the topic, mentioning thousands of shells after the storm. The atmosphere was slowly relaxing.

Next time they met was during an author’s meet-and-greet, hosted by one of the smaller branches of popular bookstores. She was, once again, surprised to see him — her ears turning pinkish when he walked over, making quite the stir just by appearing at the event. He only realized because of her reaction; maybe it was the hushed voices, maybe it was the way he held her book. Who cares about the reactions of the landbreathers! 

“I cannot wait to read this one. I must say, I am impressed — writing multiple stories at the same time? Quite a chaotic mind,” he mused, handing her the book. This time, a story of a seer and a herbalist. 

“Tsunami,” she started taking her own work, hesitating before signing it with a few lines resembling a dragon’s head. 

“I remember,“ he was watching her movement carefully, leaning close when she was giving him the book back. Eyes locked on her. “Cannot wait for the Lemurian,” he started, watching as she wanted to make an excuse, just to back off a bit. Like he would allow it, his hand holding her wrist in place. “And the sacrifice to the sea god.” He let her go, watching as her eyes rounded, a momentary panic setting in them. 

Now he was sure she saw her face before.

He waved almost sweetly walking away. 

Sometimes to catch a fish you have to stir the surface. 

You fully understood the meaning of getting a heart attack from something unexpected. The pounding in your chest did not get lighter when Mika pulled you aside. This was too specific. The flash in his eyes told you that he knew. But how much did he know? 

You were in a bar — N109 zone at its finest. Information was not easy to find, if you wanted to dig into Ever and potentially Astra. You were sure he was one of the main players at this stage. A small deal was closing your late-evening endeavours: a file to be collected at a later stage. 

What else could a girl want? 

She would not want to see the person she was trying to avoid. Oh no, that was certain. But here you were — heading to the exit, only to stop like a deer. Not in headlights, maybe, but in dimmed lights. 

A glass in his hand raised to you, and a smile. This was not the usual one, either. 

You nodded and tried your best to choose a different route out — only for him to smoothly, like swimming between the crowd, block your way. 

“(Y/N)”, a quick movement and his hand was on the small of your back, guiding you. “You look stunning today, but I would never take you for a person visiting this place.” His voice was singsongy, on the verge of something you heard before — trouble. 

Your mind spinned, ideas emerging one after another on how to slip away.

“The duality of a woman,” you said, trying to match his smile. You could not lose your face now — the seller was still eyeing you from the seat near the bar.

A low chuckle answered.

“A dangerous one. What gave you the idea you could really buy something from that person? Do you have a secret death wish?” He looked back, his eyes locking with the seller — just to drop his smile. A warning was sent. 

“Looking where I am… there is a high chance,” you answered, inching away — only for his hand to grab your waist and pull you closer. 

“Well then, maybe a walk will help with such a wish.” 

You had a feeling it might actually make it true. You nodded. All things considered, you still had options.

Said options presented themselves when Rafayel was stopped by someone — a distraction — and you were able to slip, if you could call it a slipping. He knew; it was hard not to. He looked over at you as you were walking out of the bar. 

You spotted him getting out of the building as you were reaching your car. His eyes flashed a warning: Don’t.