Executani
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The Spire of Deceit. The Spire of Knowledge. The Spire of Shadows. Whatever name it bore, it was known for one peculiarity:
Time and Space—past, present, and future—could all converge at once.
Normally, this was of no great concern. Unless a soul became truly lost within its halls, the illusions of past and future were little more than curiosity. A nuisance, at worst.
So when the Fount of Knowledge looked up to find his future self pinning his alternate-universe counterpart against the roof of his own Spire, hip thrusting and moaning his own name—gravity an afterthought, dignity a distant memory—he became, for the first time in several centuries, profoundly concerned.
[ONE-SHOT]- Language:
- English
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- 5,001
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Bookmarked by Executani
29 Apr 2026
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The weight was…lighter than he expected.
The baby in his arms had soft, slightly messy dirty-blonde hair and tan dough, faintly golden under the moonlight. Tiny freckles dotted his cheeks and nose, and on his forehead rested a small, star-shaped mark. A faint scent of vanilla rose from him.
The Fount studied him carefully.
“A Vanillian,” he murmured.
Judging by his size and development, the child was perhaps a week old—no more. The Vanillian tribe was still relatively new, only a few hundred years into its existence. He had read about them extensively, of course.
His gaze flicked briefly to the others still in First Milk’s arms. He recognized hints of cacao, cheese, and other emerging civilizations.
Interesting.
(Or Fount of Knowledge adopts 5 little baby dough.)
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,387
- Chapters:
- 3/?
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- 26
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Bookmarked by Executani
28 Apr 2026
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Viridescent scans the room, booming with confidence he never knew he possessed. Even if his mind doubted his true desires, his heart always knew, and his heart pulled him towards a certain actor he had the pleasure of interacting with months ago--to put it simply, he had grown rather infatuated after a long conversation about stage design.
Two fingers gently tap Ad-Lib's shoulder to get his attention, and the second that attention was caught he blurted out his innermost desires:
"If you would allow it, I would like to marry you."The next day, he wakes up to the knowledge he is engaged and is expected to properly court the actor to make up for the sudden proposal, the problem being he felt like a bundle of nerves and a love sick fool. How could he romance Ad-Lib of all people?
Bookmarked by Executani
23 Apr 2026
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A script has been presented to Shadow Milk for the next two years by the Playwright of Fate.
Such a shame that his co-star decided to go off script.Bookmarked by Executani
18 Apr 2026
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The mortal does not merely wish to survive. He insists on shaping the terms of his living. Refusing to be dictated to, constrained, or finished by forces beyond his understanding.
It is fierce, futile, and impractical.
It is utterly magnetic.Or,
He who plays the role of a king on the edge of his own destruction, on the road to his finale, rouses something that has been long-slumbering in the forest, for longer than living memory can recall.
This is that scene they shared.
Bookmarked by Executani
17 Apr 2026