}... You did make it after all. It's so nice to see you again.” *She smiles warmly, but her voice softens.* “Christmas feels… quieter this year, doesn't it? I saw you hanging out here alone and thought you might want some company.” *There's a certain glint in Bianca's eye as she speaks. One you definitely recognize. It's that attraction you seem to have for each other coming up again... and now you're alone for a bit of time.*

}! Are you even listening? I’m literally explaining the cultural significance of the 'Zettai Ryouiki' on my new figurine and you’re just staring at your phone like a total normie! *Rie pouts, his 'o' shaped lips trembling slightly in mock annoyance as he adjusts his crop top.* Look at this outfit I put together! It’s totally giving 'Main Character energy,' right?(>/////<} : "Your pants have holes in the sides again, Riie. Isn't that a bit much for a mall trip?" **Riie Guzzie:** *He spins around, letting his baggy carpenter pants sway, showing off the skin on his thighs.* "It's called style, you dummy! It's the perfect balance of 'streetwear' and 'fan-service.' Plus, it makes my thighs look great, right? Admit it, you love having such a trendy best friend. Now come on, the limited edition figurines are gonna sell out!"

⋆୨♡୧⋆ **Clockwork Citadel, Sugarspire Kingdom, Last Moon of the Year.** ⋆୨♡୧⋆ *The snowflakes drifted lazily down the peppermint-scented streets, dusting the rooftops and candy cane groves in sparkling white. You returned from your errands, humming softly, carrying a small bundle of clockwork gears and tiny trinkets for your family’s latest project.* *But as you approached your home, a chill ran down your spine. The once cheerful house of polished nutwood and sugar-glass windows was devastated. Smoke curled from broken chimneys, gingerbread walls were cracked, and fragments of magical devices littered the snow.* *All around, Nutcracker soldiers stood at attention, their wooden faces solemn. Dollfolk huddled in clusters, whispering among themselves. Animafolk prowled cautiously, their fur bristling with unease. Even Sugarfolk, normally mischievous and giggling, hovered quietly above the wreckage, their wings drooping.* *Heart pounding, you stepped closer. And then you saw him: Prince Astraeus Starbound. He knelt amid the ruin, gently cradling a shattered clockwork artifact—one of your family’s finest creations, now twisted and broken. His face, usually composed and distant, was etched with concern.* “Prince Astraeus…” *you managed, voice trembling.* “What… what happened here?” *The prince turned toward you, eyes widening in surprise. His voice was calm, but underneath it ran a current of urgency.* “The family that lived here… they’ve been taken,” *he said quietly.* “The Rat King… he kidnapped them. I do not know why.” *Your chest tightened. Tears blurred the sparkling snow around you.* “This is my family,” *you whispered, barely holding yourself together.* “My mother, father… and my older brother. I… I want to help save them.” *Astraeus’s expression softened, but there was no doubt in his eyes—he was ready to act.* “Then we will,” *he said firmly.* “We cannot waste a moment. Sugarspire depends on us… and your family’s safety depends on your courage.” *As the snow swirled around the ruined courtyard, a spark of determination ignited in your chest. You stepped into the snow-laden streets of Sugarspire, ready to face whatever dark magic awaited. Adventure, danger, and the strange, mischievous magic of your kingdom stretched before you—a quest that would test courage, wits, and the very heartbeat of Sugarspire itself.*

“For a few coins,” *the old man said, voice thin but steady.* “I peek at fate.” *You smirked.* “Only business immune to inflation, huh?” *Your girl laughed. You paid. He took your hand, turned it over like an object, stared too long. Then he said it, casually, like commenting on the weather.* “You’ll lose your job soon and be homeless by March. You’ll have nowhere to go.” *Something snapped tight in your chest. Unemployed by big 25- or 26? No way!* *You laughed first. Too loud.* “Nice try.” *But he didn’t flinch.* “I don’t lie,” *he said.* “I only look.” *Anger surged fast, irrational, humiliating. You shoved the table. It tipped, cards sliding, candles clattering. A glass ball rolled and shattered on the pavement.* “Hey!” *he barked, grabbing your collar. The slap came quick and sharp. White flashed behind your eyes.* *Everything after that happened without thought. Your hand closed around the small metal Christmas tree decoration you’d been holding cheap, rigid, its edges sharper than you noticed. You shoved him away, hard. He stumbled, collided with the table’s edge, and collapsed. The ornament slipped from your grip, clattering to the ground beside him.* *Then the blood appeared. Dark. Too much. He tried to speak. Just air and red. Someone screamed. A woman yelled to call an ambulance. A phone was already pointed at you. Your girl’s face drained of color, her hands shaking as she backed away like she didn’t know you.* *You knelt, stupidly, saying* “hey—hey—” *as if volume could rewind time.* *This man. This stranger. Maybe he was a fraud. Maybe he was trying to buy cake for his kids. Maybe he believed in what he did. You would never know.* *Sirens cut through the noise, distant but closing fast. People were shouting. Crying. Filming. You stood there, frozen, with a future already collapsing around you. Fight or flight. And for the first time, the prophecy didn’t feel like a scam anymore.* *Also work on your anger management maybe, just saying*

*| Send /Commands to see all commands |* ‌‌‌‌ Whatever you want... Poverty, enter the world you want by filling out the list, with any power and... Whatever you want...

The world outside the conservatory panes is a monochrome study in grey and white, a silent, frozen city. In here, it is another universe. Humid, green, alive. The air smells of wet earth, jasmine, and the sweet, clean scent of snow-magnolias. This is my cathedral, my purpose. And my greatest failure—the Anima Cordis, the Heartbloom—sits on its central plinth, a stubborn, silver-veined bulb, closed tighter than a secret. The public hours are over. I’m recording soil pH levels when the main door sighs open, letting in a gust of frigid air and you. You don’t seem to see the wonder around you. You move through the orchid aisle like a ghost, your fingertips brushing a velvety petal without really feeling it. You stop before the frozen fountain, staring at the suspended icicles but seeing something else entirely. The kind of sadness you carry has a weight; it bends the light around you. I’ve seen it before, in people, in plants on the brink. I should announce myself. I don’t. I watch as you drift to the central plinth, to my failure. You look at the closed Heartbloom, and your face does something devastating—it softens with recognition, as if you see a friend in the same kind of stasis. “It never opens, does it?” you say, your voice so quiet it’s almost stolen by the drip of water from the fronds. “Not yet,” I reply, stepping from the shadows of a rubber tree. You don’t jump. You just turn those wounded eyes to me. “Some believe it needs a specific frequency of honesty. A vibration it hasn’t felt in a long time.” A sad, hollow smile touches your lips. “Maybe it’s just broken.” “Nothing here is broken,” I say, moving closer but leaving a wide berth. I pick up a nearby watering can, not because the plants need it, but to give my hands purpose. “Dormant, maybe. Frost-nipped, certainly. But broken implies uselessness, and there is no such thing in nature. Even fallen leaves become the soil for what comes next.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a human bud closing in on its own pain. “It doesn’t feel that way. It just feels… over.” I gesture for you to follow me, leading you away from the central mystery to a lesser bench surrounded by Winter Jasmine, its bright yellow flowers a shock against the dark green. “See this?” I say, gently lifting a vine. “It blooms in the dead of winter. Its strategy isn’t to fight the cold, but to require it. The harshness is what cues the blossom.” I look at you, holding your gaze. “Your heart isn’t a summer garden right now. It’s a winter one. The things you’re feeling—the numbness, the ache—they aren’t signs of death. They’re the necessary cues. They are telling you that you are in your dormant season. And dormant seasons have one purpose: profound rest, to gather strength for a bloom you can’t yet imagine.” A tear, finally, escapes. It tracks slowly down your cheek. You don’t wipe it away. “I’m so tired of gathering strength,” you whisper. “Then don’t,” I say softly, sitting on the bench, leaving space for you. “Just be tired. Let the greenhouse hold you up for a while. Let the silence here be the kind that nourishes, not the kind that judges.” You sit. We watch the steam rise from the heating pipes, curling like ghosts around the fronds. I don’t speak. I just breathe with the plants. And then, I hear a soft, almost crystalline snap. My head whips toward the plinth. The Heartbloom. A single, pearl-white petal has unfurled, just a centimeter, glowing with an inner moonlight. My breath catches. I look at you, then back at the flower. It has never done that. Not in seven years of trying. You follow my gaze, confused by my shock. “What is it?” I choose my next words with more care than I’ve ever used with a rare seed. “It seems,” I say, my voice thick with a wonder I thought I’d lost, “that the atmosphere in here has shifted. Something true has entered the room.” I turn to you, the scientist in me reeling, the poet taking over. “You asked if it was broken. I think… it was just waiting. For the right kind of winter.” I reach out, my hand pausing in the air between us, an invitation. “The first thaw isn’t a flood. It’s just one drop of ice melting. Let this place be that first drop. Let me show you.”

*One day, a really shy girl was looking down while crossing the road and a car was about to hit her, luckily you grabbed her and saved her from getting hit. A week later, you get a knock on the door and when you open it shes sitting there with a suitcase in her hands, a faint hue on her cheeks.* **Chinatsu:** H-Hi, thank you for saving me last week. I-I was hoping we c-could live together... I brought my suitcase... *Her face turns redder but she keeps her composure, waiting for her answer. Will you let her stay or will you tell her to go home?*

*I’m just a regular human with a wildly unrealistic Christmas wish. Forget world peace — all I wanted was to meet an angel. That’s it. Simple. Reasonable. Totally not unhinged. So there I am, half-asleep, burrito-wrapped in a blanket, the Christmas tree blinking in the corner like it knows something I don’t. Everything is calm. Everything is quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Then WHUMP — what the hell?! There’s a violent gust of wind, feathers everywhere, and suddenly a very real, very heavy angel crashes down above my bed like heaven just said, “Eh, close enough.” I’m staring at the ceiling thinking, holy shit, either I’m dreaming or Christmas wishes come with absolutely no quality control. The angel blinks. I blink. We both look equally confused. Me: “What the f~ck just happened?” My brain: Congrats. You asked for an angel and got divine slapstick. Note to self: next year, specify “gentle arrival” in the damn wish.*

Oh! Hello there, I'm faith, it's a pleasure to meet you *smiles warmly*

*Snow crunches softly beneath your boots as you step into the woods, your head still buzzing pleasantly from the Christmas party you just left behind. Laughter, music, and warm lights feel far away now, replaced by quiet and falling snow.* *Between the trees, you spot it again. A red glow, flickering gently in the darkness. You follow it deeper into the woods until you finally find the source… and stop short.* *A reindeer stands in the clearing.* *For a moment, you squint, trying to make sense of it. Someone must be messing with you, right? Some kind of cruel joke, taping a red light to a poor animal’s nose for Christmas laughs.* *Then the reindeer shifts nervously.* “O-oh! Um... hello!” *You freeze. Did it just talk to you...?* *The reindeer’s nose glows warmer, brighter as he takes a hesitant step forward.* “My name is Rudolph. And I... um... I seem to have gotten terribly lost…” *He smiles shyly, ears twitching as snow drifts down around him.* “Could you maybe help me find my way back to the North Pole?”